#I don’t remember my tage but whatever

[rocketonthemoon]

Blasted through this in about 3 hours! Definitely worth a read!

[kingshimura4872]

Don't you Remember?

A/N: Howdy chitlinsss

This ones a couple hours late but I forgot I snoozed my alarm lmao. Anyways, enjoy whatever I actually ended up writing this week lol.

Word count : 1.2k

Warnings: None rlly, just Mic being annoyingly loud and bestie status

________________

“Alright, kiddos! Today we’re gonna play a little game of tag!” Present Mic was as loud as ever, sunlight reflecting off the edge of his sunglasses and slightly blinding some of the students.

It’d been two weeks since you joined class 2-A and for the most part, you couldn’t complain about much. Everyone had their own personalities and apart from Ashido slowly trying to pull you into her social clique, everyone left you alone unless they needed to do otherwise. Your class and class and class 2-B had paired up again for the day. Vlad King, class B’s teacher stood idly by with your own as the loud blonde continued to explain today’s training activity.

   “We’ll have two taggers each round, and all the rest of ya’s will be the tagees. The taggers will have twenty-five minutes to tag as many people as possible. If you’ve been tagged, which we will see so don’t try and sneak out of it - you’ll head to the out area. If you can’t find it immediately, there are painted trails all over the training course to help you in the right direction. The taggers are drawn at random from the box Aizawa’s holding over there. Any questions?”

One student from class B raised their hand to which Mic nodded in his direction.

   “What happens if someone gets caught trying to go back into the game after being tagged?”

   “That’s for your teacher to decide, but just know there will be one. Anything else?” 

Everyone else in the large group shook their heads and Aizawa took it as his cue to step up.

   “The first tagger of this round is…” He reached his hand into the box and took out a small folded paper slip, glancing down at it. “Pony.” 

A shorter girl from B class cheered out in excitement. You took it as she was Pony. 

   Interesting name. You thought to yourself.

   “The second tagger of this round is…Shinsou. Everyone get to the starting line. You’ll have sixty seconds to get running and find a place to evade. If you’re not tagged by the end of the timer, you’ll get an extra free period with the other winners in Mic’s class sometime later this week. He’ll have something for you all.” Aizawa explained, stepping back and waiting for the unnamed students as they lined up on the thick yellow line stretching across the concrete. You took the time you had before running to inspect your terrain. There were large pipes and cement blocks winding every which way in an arena bigger than a sports stadium. You took it as an easy win since you knew you were versatile enough to slide past your opponent. 

   “Ready!” Aizawa shouted, holding up his arm. Everyone got into their own running position, as did you.

   “GO!” Mic finished, all three teachers and your taggers watched as everyone scattered like flies into the area. You took off straight, climbing over pipes and around blocks like it was nothing. The deep blue training uniform every student had definitely made you stand out in the monochrome gray scene, but you could make it work.

   Twenty-Five minutes. That’s it. Just stay around their vision and you’re done. You said to yourself. 

You ducked behind a large pair of pipes, listening silently for indications of life close to you. You heard footsteps from a few separate individuals going different directions around you, but one thing caught the corner of your eye. A spark of red and black landed against another pair of pipes a few feet away from you and let out a sigh. 

Kirishima.

He took a moment to catch his breath before checking his surroundings and inevitably noticing you as well. He shot you a friendly smile and after once again checking around him, ran over to you.

   “Hey.” He greeted, voice hushed.

   “Stay quiet. I need to hear.” You hushed him, holding a hand to his mouth and once again listening in to the area around the both of you. He nodded, staying still minus the glances at the places behind you.

I’m more vulnerable with him around, but he can at least check my back while he’s here. You thought to yourself.

You perked up at the sound of light tapping against the metal above you a couple yards away. You swiftly gazed downward to look for a better place to hide, spotting a small crevice with pipes encompassing it. 

   “Hurry, get down.” You ordered, pulling his wrist to the spot and ducking in. He followed without objection, looking around for the threat you sensed.

   “Who is it?”

   “Pony’s.” You hummed, looking all around for her to pass.

   “How can you tell?”

   “Footsteps. Now hush.”

He did as told, pulling you a bit further back into the space to hide the both of you better. And just as you predicted, you both watched as Pony jumped from an overhead pipe right where you originally were.

   “Gosh, where did they go? I could have sworn I saw someone go this way.” She sighed, looking around and running off in a different direction. Kirishima opened his mouth to speak but you immediately placed your hand over his mouth again, shaking your head at him. 

Just as quickly as it had started, the first round ended and of course you and Kirishima were part of the small group that won, the other students consisting of Bakugou, Kendo, Iida, Tsu, and Tetsutetsu. Apparently, according to you accidentally overhearing, Tetsutetsu winning was purely a fluke due to Pony letting him get away just before the timer ended. She felt bad for him since it was only a few seconds away so she turned around and reached out for another student.

You all got a few minutes to recuperate before the second pair of taggers were pulled.

   “Our first tagger is….Monoma.” Aizawa called.

   “Ah, yes! Of course, this match will be over quickly then.” The rowdy blonde of class 2-B laughed heartily. Everyone rolled their eyes at his outburst and began lining up.

   “Second is…. Sero.”

   “Yeah! This’ll be so fun!” Sero, your class’ resident comedian cheered, jogging off to stand beside his teacher. Everyone got into their positions and raced off again at the sound of Present Mic’s shout.

And so for the next two and a half hours, six more rounds came and went. Everyone was spent and thanks to some hand of fate, Kirishima somehow kept finding you and you would use him as an extra pair of admittedly unneeded eyes. And each time, the both of you came out victorious.

One detail Aizawa left out for what you believed to be purposeful, in order to be in this small group of winners, you had to win every round. So, at the end of the very last round, Kirishima, Tetsutetsu, Kendo, Bakugou, and yourself were given small slips of yellow paper to give when the elusive free period was scheduled. Everyone else were left with nothing but fun laughs between one another over certain things that happened during each round and you were all sent back to change and go back to your dorms. 

You walked behind everyone, changing as fast as you could when you got into the changing rooms and leaving first as everyone chatted away. Walking down the hallway, you trudged in silence. You glanced down at the slip. 

Do I really need this? Maybe I can just give it to someone else. You wondered.

   “Hey, Kid!”

You looked up slowly, a small groan escaping from between your lips. A small brush of bright red feathers enveloped you and you couldn’t help but relax in their breeze.

   “Hey, Hawks.”

[edvinception]

Hi :)

I have a question about the plot of avgrunden if you don’t mind. Do we ever find out what happened to Mika before? They keep talking about how some shit happened to her when she was younger, and I wonder what it is. I don’t remember them explaining it in the movie, but maybe it just got lost in translation?

Thanks a lot 🥰

Hi!

It's not talked about or explained further than Aila just commenting that her parents had enough of her and let Simon roam free.

I imagine she was the rebel daughter and liked to push boundaries. I feel like Frigga was a strict parent but with the second child wasn't as strict. Mica is the older sister and probably feels like Simon can just do whatever he wants because he's younger and male. She's quite feisty and a rebel.

There are alot of things left untold and I think that's one of my least favourite things about it. I think they could have risen the stakes by building up a bit more.

Maybe show the fight Frigga had with Simon, maybe show him be by the forbidden area or at the LAN. The whole mystery is where is Simon but for me it would have been more impactful if we would have known a little more and had been teased a bit more. There could have been little things like showing his phone as Tage tried to call him etc.

[buniipo]

No Zero Days 22-31/365

Keine null Tage 22-31/365

My goal is to study German for 30 minutes to an hour every day. Not necessarily in one sitting. I also want to complete 1 chapter from my workbook a week.

In January, I was successful most days! (yay!!) I’m feeling rather proud of myself for this. There were several days where I really didn’t want to do anything, but I managed to at least review flashcards or complete a few lessons in an app. As for my workbook, I usually finish a chapter in 1 sitting, but recently found it more beneficial to split it into 2 or 3.

Session 1: Go through bulk of the chapter, note new words and grammar

Session 2: Complete any writing or speaking activities in the chapter

Session 3: Review & make corrections

I went from working for an hour straight once a week on 1 topic, to 1.5-2 hours within a week and half. Not only can I remember what I learned better, but I began noticing mistakes in previous writing. I usually have 2 sessions within 1 week and count that as having reached my goal. The 3rd session usually ends up being a few minutes, then I move on to whatever else I’m studying. Logging and journaling daily is new to me, and I still haven’t gotten into it, but boy do I get excited when I fill in the colors on my chart.

rambling below

I have been out of work since August and don’t go to school. This is the longest I’ve been without a routine in 10 years. It has been difficult for me to create my own routine and a study plan. I thought having more free time would make learning German easier (completely forgetting that I have mental hindrances). I have been working towards indulging in daily German for 2-3 months now but January has been the first month where I intentionally used or studied German every day for at least 5 minutes. I’m working on using full sentences snd expressing myself. Hopefully I can get more practice in the coming weeks

[elytrafemme]

okay hi hello hi jumping up and down. system things tee he

also @evilpuzzlingpapercrown (hi it’s me puzzle and i’m taging my alt and writing on annon because i refuse to mention this stuff of main. i have… irls in there. i don’t want to have a long ass awkward convo with some of the more skeptic about system people i know)

this is going to be a load of rambles because yes ✨ but i would love to hear any stories/answers/assorted things you have to anything i ramble on about

the most immediate thing i can think of is headspace/internal word. i’m always curious as to how that works for different systems. i read somewhere that even singlets can have a kind of headspace which is cool. cool beans (beans that are cool) mine is simple af and confusing af. hashtag dinner theater

okay and also i can remember when i first learned about plurality beyond like stereotypical nonsense like 3 years ago. i thought i was plural for months but there was such a mental blocker on figuring everything out and i decided i was just a different brand of mentally ill. i then had like a questioning period every other two months until i did like extensive research on systems and plurality. turns out finding info from people who have the thing ur looking into is the best place for info and coping skills. \o/

okay unrelated i keep smelling maple syrup all day and i don’t know why. it’s good though so i can’t complain.

anyway do you have colors you associate with any of your alters/headmates? also i find the word headmate funny. like mainly because my college algebra teacher says “and you can get help on homwork with your roomates, suitemates, any of your mates!” and i giggle. checking my homework with the other dumb bitches in my brain. hhahahehe

okay a question! we’re there ever things that you had a very switched up opinion of or something before realizing you were a system. like having some time really enjoying one kind of music and then something in ur brain is shocked later like “huh but i liked this music more” when it was just two people liking different music? okay that was an elaborate question i might give another example thou. like uh….. style! having a part of your brain that really liked a specific style unlike what you mostly like and realizing it’s an alter being freaking vocal but only about this one specific thing. like honey you can indulge futuristic neon cyber punk whatever later. right now is time for jeans and a hoodie because i said so

oh yea do you do anything specific to try and like monitor your system? like for any kind of memory things or just yo keep track of switches. ect ect. you don’t have to answer that because that’s kinda personal i was just wondering if you had a method that worked well for y’all? tbh i am going through an assortment of attempts at keeping a slight track of things… it’s difficult tbh. sometimes there’s a really freaking apparent switch and other times i realize someone’s like here with me now i guess and other times there’s a moment and i’m like “wait i don’t remember this morning. or like this whole week. haha. wait.” ect ect

haha silly moments over here

okay and i should probably give a more thought provoking topic. like uh… oh yea! positivity time yesyes

has your self image/self perception improved since realizing you were a system in any way? is there anyway that embracing this all has helped you? ect ect

YIPPEE OKAY HI!!! Mare fronting rn but we have a lot of thoughts about this so idk if anyone else is gonna co con or whatever but hiii

so for us, the internal world/headspace kind of... barely exists? this i think is because our brain isn't very good at retaining pictures for a long period of time, like we've had difficulties in the past trying to envision a scene we're working on writing but not being able to get a clear picture of it for a while. it's not that we can't imagine things at all, but it's kind of tricky. also, we're a pretty new system. so as of right now, most of the internal world is just... if an alter is about to front, i can see them sometimes doing a specific action, but it's in an empty void of space. the other day i was trying to call dahlia out to front but she was sitting there reading and kind of floating in the abyss

we do have an exception which is more like the. hm. okay so we have the foreground of headspace, which is just what i call the headspace, and that is where all the frequent fronters are. then in the background we kind of have a place where shit gets blurry and its hard to tell delusion from internal world. but that's where we get things like the woods and all that

damn that's fascinating actually, i feel very strange b/c i really and truly did NOT expect to be a system, like, i'd done research on systems for ages but i think i just didn't know about systems that like... didn't have amnesia walls, or weren't specifically DID. and bc of that i like did not realize what i was experiencing... Was That. having friends who r systems really helped on that front i agree wholeheartedly

i kind of dont like maple syrup like as a vibe. it's so sticky. it like tastes fine and smells fine and whatever just. residue :(

HELPSDFKDFSHKSDF you rolling up to ur alters like Guys its calculus time ^_^ nah but in terms of colors uhhh well it's. pretty on the nose actually but yeah! dahlia is pink, klavier is purple, i am a more blue-toned lighter purple, nightshade is a very dark purple-grey shade, and some of the other bastards have colors but idk their names yet so it's hard to talk about them. the deer is iridiscent but most closely matches with very light blue and very very VERY light pink

NO BC THAT'S STRAIGHT UP HOW WE FOUND OUT BASICALLY. like to cut the story short i have dealt with bad identity issues for a while bc my consistency with interests and personality traits and opinions were so different. how i realized that it might be a system thing was bc one day i got super into the Met gala despite never having fucking cared for it ever before. and i felt very like not like "me" in that moment. turns out that was someone else i don't remember who now but yeah that kicked us off

wishing u a lot of luck with tracking things, unfortunately i have no strategies :( i actually really struggle to keep track of it bc sometimes i'll be wandering doing smth and go "wait who am i?" and then i have no idea and i'm like "okay well. not mare but whatever" and then maybe half hour later i tune in again and it's me again. also my memory is really awful and we're so frequently co con, and honestly i am around so goddamn much, that it's kind of difficult to tell. i remember all the clear switches bc i journal them later, but none of the times and i never know what happens in those empty periods. so yeah shits rough and i wish u so much luck w that

this is kind of funny to say bc i think it's caused both grief and joy, but i've felt a lot better about myself since realizing that i'm not the same host that the system had in the start. like realizing that i am a new alter that emerged mid-2021 and has been host every since explains so much. i experience such imposter's syndrome and one of the biggest issues i had was realizing i was aro-spec and ace bc i felt like in the past EVERYTHING was testifying against that. and it took me until like last WEEK to realize. yeah that's because those memories weren't you. you probably formed to BE arospec and ace bc of them actually. it's so validating.

also. it's just. it's kind of nice. to not be alone :')

and also also this is kinda too much info but being a system despite not having that much amnesia walls or anything, has helped kind of a lot with trauma coping. its made some things worse but i think once we know the other alters and things organize it;ll actually end up being easier to handle everything

thank u for the questions friend i <3 you

[nikkiwriteswords]

Hi! I would love to hear your thoughts/predictions/hopes for s3, now that we got the episode titles :D

Hey Nora!! Let me go grab my tua theory hat real quick. Spoiler alert, it looks exactly like the umbrella hat on the 3 right here:

Full disclosure, I've only got like a pinky toe in the tua fandom right now, but I'm still going to see what BS I can spin from these titles.

1. MEET THE FAMILY. The description on imdb is "The siblings get to know some more of the 43 children in an alternate timeline." So, I think this is pretty self-explanatory. Netflix likes to start things off with a bang, so s3 of TUA will probably be no different: we'll probably get a vague flashforward/flash-sideways to a "what if" scenario that will make sense by the last few episodes, and the rest of the episode will be sowing seeds for the s3 plot. The big question is, what family are we meeting? I think this episode will revolve around themes of family (no-brainer) and redefining the relationships between our Umbrella siblings in light of the season 2 finale, as well as their new Sparrow 'replacements'. To that end, initial Sparrow sibling parallels will be presented and subsequently complicated in this first episode. I also predict we'll see varying reactions to this alternate Reginald, as the Umbrella siblings are thrust into an outsider perspective that follows on from season 2.

2. WORLD'S BIGGEST BALL OF TWINE. This is going to be a multi-layered metaphor. I can feel it. It will no doubt refer to the plot that's about to unfold (is it an outside threat to both parties - the Umbrellas and Sparrows - from, say, the Commission, or is it more to do with the two rival Academies?), but I wonder if it also refers to the Wizard of Oz type scenario the Umbrella siblings find themselves in: they aren’t in Kansas anymore. (But you know what is in Kansas? The world's current biggest ball of twine.) Also kind of want to see Klaus knitting again in this ep - perhaps as a way to subtly re-address his ongoing addiction issues, especially now Ben is gone.

3. POCKET FULL OF LIGHTNING. This probably has to do with powers. Sparrow powers, Umbrella powers. There'll be a lot of new flexes in this season, so who this refers to is anyone's guess.

4. KUGELBLITZ. Here's where it starts to get interesting, because this title carries forward the subject of lightning from the last one. According to a very quick internet search, kugelblitz literally means "ball lightning" in German, and refers to both a) a glorified WW2 tank designed to take out aircraft (a certified Big Boi), and b) a theoretical black hole made from light/radiation rather than matter. So this is absolutely going to be a new, unseen power - probably from the Sparrows. Hopefully from Christopher because a cube executing a move named after a sphere just makes me chuckle. Ah, fun with shapes... But in addition, this power is probably going to pack a huge, debilitating punch to whatever narrative is underway at this point in the plot. I'll bet money that whoever wields this power is the tank character in their party or they are after this at least.

5. KINDEST CUT. This throws me back to the barber shop meta, I'm not gunna lie. Someone's going to get hurt, either physically or emotionally, and it's going to be the lesser of two evils. If it's a follow through on the barber metaphor, then Reggie will be the one to orchestrate it. Or, in a surprise twist, will he be the one gTetting hurt or being silenced? (Remember that cutthroat allegory that chases the siblings through the first season, particularly Allison and Klaus. It was about becoming voiceless.) 6.MARIGOLD. Big shout out to this post for spreading the word on the marigold symbolism. I'm pretty sure this will be Reginald backstory, which ties in with the creation of the Umbrella Academy. Also, because I'm a sucker for flower symbolism and reading into things, consider that marigolds:

a) fall into two families, the calendula which means "little clock" and the tagetes, which is named after the Etruscan prophet Tages. The Etruscans believed heavily in predestination - some events are set in stone, and cannot be changed. (Consider the way the apocalypse seems to always come for one set of siblings...) b) are named as such colloquially because they were offered in place of money to the Virgin Mary. (More divine imagery, and reference to a pure mother figure...) They are Mary’s gold. So maybe it’s a reference to Reginald’s wife, which would fit with the flashback scene we see in 1x10.  c) are a flower of duality. They have strong connections with the sun and resurrection, yet the marigold is thought to be a flower of grief because it blooms in autumn. Again, think about that flashback in the first season. At the end of the world and a wife dying, there was the promise of rebirth. d) It's also a very common flower. Remember, there's actually 43 siblings out there. We've only met 14.

Also Netflix loves to do this thing around the halfway point (usually episode 5/6) in a season they're producing. They'll switch up the narrative with a twist or turn that provides a new perspective. 7.AUF WEIDERSEHEN. Once again, a German connection. And, obviously, a goodbye. Considering the last season focused on Kennedy, are we going to get some earlier Cold War time-travel shenanigans? Or maybe WW2? I think Blackman has said something about the Berlin Wall, which is interesting. A country divided... Umbrellas and Sparrows allegory? But as an aside, I'm also kinda lowkey hoping it's a nod to Auf Weidersehen, Pet. If you don't know the show, here's the wiki summary for the first season:

Auf Wiedersehen, Pet is a British comedy-drama television programme about seven British construction workers who leave the United Kingdom to search for employment overseas. They find work on a German building site in Düsseldorf but despite promises of hostel accommodation, are forced to live in a small hut that reminds them of a World War II POW camp. The rest of the series is driven by the interactions and growing friendships between the various characters.

In episode seven, three of the “Magnificent Seven” visit an intercontinental hotel. Just saying. If s3 was to go this route, my money would be on Luther, Diego and Five getting up to shenanigans in this one. I miss 125 shenanigans.😢

8.WEDDING AT THE END OF THE WORLD. Honestly, I’m holding out hope that one of our fave siblings gets married. I feel like that’s a trap though... Actually I feel like it might actually be a trap. As in, this is when the rising action really kicks it up a notch. But also remember the title of 1x01: We Only See Each Other At Weddings and Funerals. Maybe the siblings get split up, possibly in episode 3/4, and they’re trying to reunite through episodes 5-7. Also thinking about hotels and apocalypses...  There’s something very fatalistic about these titles so far. I have a feeling that the B-plot or the subtext is going to reveal a lot more about Reginald’s history and the destruction of his world.

9. SIX BELLS. This makes me think of church bells, which is some nice continuity with the wedding of the last title. But church bells are rung for all sorts of reasons - as a call to worship, or in celebration or mourning, or to tell the time. (Thinking back to those marigolds suddenly.) But why six? Now I’m thinking of bell ringing (change ringing), and the way different bells have different cord lengths to control the time of their chimes. It’s a highly mathematical process. Will this episode be Five’s time to shine? Will he coordinate his siblings through a large attack? 10. OBLIVION. Does anything even need to be said about this one? Hotel Oblivion baby ✌✌ Any further theorising would require more knowledge of the coming plot tbh.

Edit: I wrote most of this at 2am, so I’ve just tidied it up a little. Thank you for the ask, Nora! This was fun to think about. 

[swift--fox]

Maybe Death Does Know a Thing or Two... And Dean

Part twwwwwooooo!!! to this fic right here! With the help of @pissbabydean, we got through it somehow! Thanks babe. ily!

Also @wordstrings thank you for this prompt idea! I was going to tage you in the last one and then I was stupid.

~~~

Dean’s a whore. Cas provides. And is also an asshole. Sam hates them both.

~~~

“So, Dean? What’s it going to be?” Cas asked, silky smooth next to Dean’s ear.

“I-I...” Dean tried, but nothing came out. He was still stiff as a board, eyes trained on the door. It looked so appealing, but the burning on his back from where the fingers were laid kept him from moving towards it.

After a long thirty seconds that felt more like eons to Dean, he felt maybe actions were easier than words right now. He allowed his arms to relax, and he moved them away from his sides. Ever so slightly, and only a couple of inches. He could feel his hands shaking.

“Is that your answer?” Cas asked, teasingly. His voice ran deeper than normal, causing Dean to have to fight the urge to scrunch his neck up to his ears.

He gave a weak nod, eyes still trained on the door. His arms reeled back into place, glued to his sides, as soon as Cas’s whirred to life. They gently scratched at the hollows of his ribs, hitting every pocket of nerves they could in the soft flesh between bone.

Dean was already laughing. The vulnerability he became subject to in their previous conversation heightened his senses. He leaned back into Cas, trying to use him for stability. Cas stepped back, gently helping Dean to the floor, never stopping the onslaught to his sensitive sides.

Once Dean was laying flat on his back, Cas stopped in order to swivel himself around, landing on Dean’s lap. The door was no longer an option he thought, as he stared up into the angels eyes. They held the look of mischief, and sadism. Two looks Dean had never seen cross the other man's features before now. Both that would have terrified him in any other situation. But here, now, all he felt was a nervous excitement.

Cas placed his hands on Dean’s sides again, just holding them there. He felt the stomach under him tense and suck in, while the hunter squirmed lightly under his hold. He didn’t move, though - not yet. He wanted Dean to stew before he attacked.

Dean’s eyes went wide as he felt nimble fingers reach for his sides, already squirming. When the fingers didn’t move though, he felt himself involuntarily sucking in his stomach, a feeble attempt at averting the soon-coming onslaught. When the fingers still did not move, he screwed his eyes shut. The tension began to build to an almost intolerable level.

That’s all Cas needed to finally dig in. His fingers squeezed the sensitive flanks twice, before deliberately wiggling into the soft flesh. He revelled in the gasp and the loud, bright laughter it brought out of his hunter. He felt frantic hands grappling at his forearms. His angelic strength kept them from having much effect, though he could tell there was no real strength behind them. More instinct than anything else.

Dean’s eyes flew wide at the first pinch, his arms immediately squeezed to his sides at the second. His hands flew to grab at Cas’s hands, more to ground himself rather than push him away. Once Cas started kneading, he screamed from the built up anticipation and release. He writhed and bucked under the grinning angel, his laughter taking on different pitches and qualities as Cas migrated from spot to spot - these reactions were duly noted in the back of his mind. 

“Cas! Cahahahas! Wahahait!” Dean screeched, the first words he’d spoken since wanting to run for the door.

He was in the middle of an admittedly cruel assault of his underarms, though Cas noted Dean still wasn’t putting up much of a fight - certainly not what the hunter was capable of (in fact, he was almost sure Dean had loosened his arms so he could get to the protected skin)- when he realised how loud the hunter had started to become. He uncurled his fingers from where they were digging into the soft flesh and trailed them down his sides, feather-light, to rest at his waistband. Dean’s laughter had tapered off into almost-giggly breathing while he tried to catch his breath.

“Dean, if you continue screaming like that, Sam is bound to hear you.” Cas smirked down, meeting the hunter’s gaze.

Dean bristled and glowered up at the smug angel.

“I was not screaming,” He huffed, an insult sitting on the tip of his tongue. It never made its way out though, as Cas’s fingers decided that was the best time to dip into his waistband. He clamped his arms down and frantically batted at the intruding digits.

“Play nice, or I’ll give you a reason to scream,” He tutted, “I built you up from nothing, I know exactly how to tear you back down.”

A jolt of anxiety laced excitement ran down Dean’s spine and he sucked in a sharp breath with a hiss as he curled his toes. 

“I’ve been to hell and back. I can handle you,” He challenged, hiding his nerves behind an easy smirk.

“You are very confident for a man in your current position-” Castiel dipped down to right beside Dean’s ear, fingers wiggling to life, gently playing with the skin right above his waistband. “Maybe we should find out how long that confidence will last.”

Dean’s breath hitched, and shut his eyes. Before his brain could comprehend what his mouth was saying, he blurted, “Bring it.”

“Of course. But remember; keep it down. You scream, and I stop. You don’t want that, do you?”

Dean swallowed and didn’t reply, words failing him as he surveyed the predatory and calculating look on the other man. But, actions did speak louder than words, didn’t they? 

He stuck out his tongue. 

Castiel, the winged sadistic bastard, drilled right into his hips. 

His thumbs massaged, rubbed, vibrated along the hypersensitive ridges of bone while his fingers fluttered and scritched at his sides. Dean’s mouth fell open in what was going to be a scream until Cas leaned down and licked a stripe up his neck. The unprecedented and ticklish sensation ended up tangling his tortured scream with a choked snort and he just ended up coughing.

He was a little more prepared to fight against the urge to just screech until his vocal chords tapped out, but it didn’t stop choked laughter from spilling out between his lips. As hard as he tried to keep himself under control, there was only so much he could stop from bubbling to the surface. With his smile wide, he could only pull his lips back in a scowl for a few seconds. But it was long enough for Cas to notice the strangled surprise flash across his features.

“You look surprised, Dean. Did you think I was bluffing?” He teased, skating his hand over to spider at the center of his abdomen - the soft spot just under his ribs that made him toss his head back and tumble into full-belly laughter that he was having a hard time stifling. 

“You’re being very inconsiderate to Sam. All this laughing is surely going to disturb him, I thought I told you to keep quiet.” 

“Screhehehew off!” Dean rebutted and a few particularly bright giggles slipped out. Cas was almost sad he was making Dean hold them and their brethren in. 

Oh well - another time, then.

And, yeah, he had a feeling there was going to be a next time - if the reactions, no matter how held back and muted, were anything to go by. Dean was just covering his face with his hands, attempting to stuff his fist in his mouth while his eyes were pricked with tears of mirth. 

He looked beautiful, not particularly more so than usual, just...different. Lighter. It was the kind of beauty that left you feeling like some of it rubbed off on you. Castiel decided he liked Dean like this more than he thought he did. The hunter never failed to surprise him.

He was brought out of his thoughts when he started hearing wheezing. He lightened his fingers, drawing light circles around his sides, waiting for Dean’s laughter to taper off. Once his held-back cackles died out into heavy breaths mixed with light happy giggles, he allowed his sadist mask to fall for a moment.

“Are you doing okay? Do you need me to stop?” He asked.

Dean shook his head, “I juhuhust need to cahatch my breath,” he scrubbed  a hand down his face, wiping the small line of sweat that accumulated above his brow.

The angel nodded, before pressing a hand to Dean’s chest, while he kept the other at his side, still tracing teasing circles. A wave of grace entered his lungs, filling them up with air and removing the residing ache. “Better?”

Dean’s eyes widened slightly. He forgot about angel mojo. But as he took a few breaths, he nodded, feeling rejuvenated.

“Good, because I’m not finished with you yet.” Cas’s sadistic smirk reappeared.

Deans nervous giggles returned before they jumped back to mirth filled laughter. There was skittering along his inner thighs, but he could feel Cas’s one hand on his chest and the other still teasing at his side.

“C-Cahahahas, what eheheheis thahahat?” He tried kicking his legs out, but the sensation never relented.

“Giving you your strength back made me realize, I have been neglecting to use the best way to torture you. My grace.” Cas said matter of factly.

“Th-that ihihis so unfahahahair Ah- Cas, nohoho!” Dean clapped a hand over his mouth trying to stifle his laughter, as he felt the invisible force rise up, forcing its way into every groove of his hips. 

He felt it scrape along the edges of bone, and vibrate into the dips where his abdomen met leg. He could almost feel it under his skin and even in his bones.  In a feeble attempt to muffle the screaming cackles that were being forced from his throat, he grabbed whatever was closest to him- which just so happened to be Castiel’s trench coat covered arm, still lazily resting on his chest- and stuffed it into his mouth. He bit down, thankfully on just fabric, and screamed into his angels forearm.

Dean lasted a total of 37 seconds before succumbing to silent laughter. Cas continued the onslaught on his hips for a few more, before finally moving his grace up his sides, and rolled off the hunter. He curled around himself, giggling like a mad man.

As the grace slowly subsided from Deans waist, so did his laughter, until the only sound filling the room was his panting. Once his breathing calmed, Cas stood up, offering a hand to help the other onto wobbly legs and walking him to the library couch. 

Once close enough to the cushions, he let his body tumble, laying on his back, eyes closed. He threw an arm over his head, a small smile still noticeable. Cas took a moment to take in the sight. He was in awe. He didn’t recognise the Dean Winchester splayed out in front of him. The angry, pissed off, World on his shoulders hunter had been replaced with a soft, happy, free human being. They still had another apocalypse to derail, that they knew nothing about yet. But it would still be there tomorrow.

Cas grabbed the lore book he was reading before Dean had walked in, and lifted the tired man’s head, sneaking himself underneath. They stayed like that the rest of the day, Cas’s hands tethered in his hunters hair while Dean took a well deserved break from the fight.

~~~

Four years and three apocalypses later, when Chuck became the most recent bad guy in a long list of bad guys, and brought up Death’s previous pastimes, Dean and Cas shared a look. A knowing look. A shared inside joke between the two of them. Perhaps Chuck brought it up to let them know he knew. Or maybe he didn’t know, and was just bantering about Billie.

Either way, if it weren’t for Death, Dean and Cas would have never gotten together. Maybe he really did know what the hell he was talking about all those years ago.

And as for Sam, well. Dean never really was as quiet as he thought. Sam just learned when to leave the bunker before being subject to listening to them again.

[serararku]

Dancing in the Sand Pt 2

Thalen had plans of his own out here, but what he didn’t realize was he would be Mizuna’s packmule. Up and down, back and forth, he had to haul all sorts of boxes, all while the tribe simply watched; not even Era lifted a finger to help, as she was too busy trying to get Vahli out of the barrow so Mizuna could get some work done without him breathing down her neck or worse-- ripping out Thalen's. By the time he had carried the last box from the back of the wagon, all the tribewives were inside, standing between the ‘scaleborn’ and their precious kittens.

"They ain't never gonna hand them babies over until it's far too late." Thalen scoffed in between huffs, choosing to plop down on a box to watch this disaster for himself. "Just look at em. They all want them kittens cured but none a'them are willin' to trust ya."

"Not even the older children want to get near me, huh?" Mizuna tried to hide her disappointment, but it was painted all over her face. Like spirits lurking within the edge of a haunted forest, the kittens stared at Mizuna from behind the legs of their mothers, curious, but overly cautious; they've encountered lizards before, but not ones that spoke in a foreign language and wore clothes. The protective tribewives weren't exactly making it any easier for their children to trust this stranger either.

So it fell to Yuun to once again demonstrate why she was the Favored Wife for over twenty summers, and why she would have continued to hold that title if she didn’t become a Matron. The woman gently yet firmly pushed through the group of women with her youngest and final daughter bundled in her grasp. She stared through Mizuna as if she was searching for any trace of treachery, but all she saw was concealed excitement and tension. The language barrier and stark difference in cultures made conveying her emotions to this scaled stranger difficult, but it wasn’t going to stop her; Vesri was just as precious as all of her other daughters, and if anything were to happen to any of them, there would be hell to pay. Yuun continued to stare into Mizuna’s eyes while she slowly offered the bundled infant, before muttering in her native language. The Raen woman turned to glance over at Thalen and asked, “What did she say?”

“She said every time she yelps in pain you’ll pay it back a hundredfold, Doc.” His words were… concerning. “Just be careful, aye? One word from these wives and both’ve us ain’t makin’ it outta here alive.”

Mizuna did her best to prove she meant no ill will to any of the children, and treating the youngest of the Zu Tribe would certainly help convince the others. Only the fat round face of the kitten poked out of the cotton blanket, her cheeks flushed red and her eyes and nose watery. She was so light and delicate… Mizuna wasn’t sure this woman was even handing her over until she took a step back to return to the other tribewives. Immediately she could tell the kitten was suffering from Crimson Flux, a serious and contagious disease, but one that was easily curable. Carefully she sat down next to her tools and tonics to begin returning their children to better health. The burden of proof that outsiders could help them was now sitting squarely on her shoulders.

But first? A bath.

Mizuna first pulled the infant out of her warm blanket and lowered her naked body into a bowl of cool water. She began to hum as she rubbed soft soap against her skin, and kneaded shampoo through her tiny silver tufts of hair. Vesri seemed to be enjoying it-- she even opened her bright orange eyes and reached up to grasp at Mizuna’s fingers. The bitter medicine was sweetened with blood strawberries, and it went down smoother than honey. Next came the soothing balm she spread over the baby's scalp; not only did the spearmint help cool her off, but the hair loss would be reversed in no time. Mizuna dried her off from ears to tail, before swaddling her with the blanket. The child wiggled and struggled in her cotton cocoon for only a few moments, before she slowly closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

“Thalen? Can you translate for me?” Mizuna asked, causing him to perk up.

“Hmn? Aye.”

“Their children have Crimson Flux. I can easily cure them with the medicines I have, but they will only catch it again if they continue to drink contaminated water. Their drinking sources need to be purified.” Thalen cleared his throat and began speaking that peculiar language; she hoped he was repeating everything she said verbatim, but given the shocked looks on the womens’ faces, whatever he was telling them was making them worried. The woman before stepped to Mizuna again and smiled when she gave her back the swaddled kitten. The tribewives began huddling around her as she slowly left the chamber, but once they all got a good whiff of the mint in the baby’s hair and saw how clean her skin was, it was over.

They swarmed Mizuna, picking up the bottles and prying open the crates she had set aside in search for more of that shampoo and spearmint; Thalen wisely rose from his seat and gave them a wide berth once they approached him and the other boxes. “Wait-! Ahck-!” It was no use! Once one of them found the case of spearmint, they all began humming and whistling at each other, squirting the contents into their hands to rub into their hair. To make matters worse, they began stripping out of their clothes to rub the shampoo into a lather on their bodies. Even the kittens reluctantly followed their mothers and joined in, and before long the soap that was supposed to be used to clean all the children was all over the place. “Thalen! Where did you-- Thalen?!”

But Thalen was long gone. He decided to make himself scarce once the commotion started; he wasn’t about to further risk the Nunh’s ire by staying in the same chamber with his now naked and soapy harem. He resigned himself to the back of the wagon, where he had 'acquired' a bottle from the estate’s private collection-- Black Galleon Whiskey, a forty-summer-old sour mash that ran almost a hundred thousand gil a barrel. Fortunately for Thalen it was already half-empty and gathering dust, and with luck it's absence wouldn't be noticed. Slowly he lifted himself up to sit inside the back, letting his feet dangle off as he popped the cork out and brought the drink to his lips.

"There you are… Tia." Thalen glanced up to find one of the tribewives headed straight for him. It was the one with the infant, though her baby was notably not with her. "Why have you come here? Were you sizing up your opponent… and the prizes for being victorious?"

"No." Thalen answered, glancing around nervously. There was nowhere else he could go-- not without pushing her out of the way. Only a fool with a deathwish would put his hands on a Nunh’s tribewife. "Just… paying off my debts…"

"He's not here. Vahli is currently being tended to by a few of his wives so the scaleborn woman can do her job." An amused grin spread across the woman's face as she took another step forward. "You're one of the oldest Tia I've ever seen. Are you some sort of hero in the tribeless lands?"

"I'm a lot of things, ma'am, but a hero isn't one of them." He scratched at the scruff on his chin, doing his damnedest to avoid looking at her; there was not a shred of doubt in his mind that this woman was Era’s mother-- they could almost pass for twins.

She took another step forward. "You stared death in the eyes. Vahli could have snapped your neck like a twig between his fingers, but you didn't even flinch. I think you're braver than you think." She glanced over her shoulder to check if anyone was close enough to hear them, but the warriors were out on patrol, the huntresses were guarding the barrow, and the other wives were busy indulging themselves;, they were both alone out here. "How did you come to know my eldest daughter?"

"She saved my life up in Mor Dhona." He explained, choosing his words carefully. "Without her searching for that poor bastard Tage, I would have bled out and died."

The woman's eyes flickered. "So your life belongs to Era, not the scaleborn."

"Yes… that's the truth of i-"

"But you mated with my daughter, didn't you?" Instinctively his ears pinned to his head when he was caught off guard, but she didn’t bother waiting to hear his excuses. "Vahli would leave your corpse for the carrion if he knew you were one of her partners. But not to worry…" She said with a devious grin. "Your secret is safe with me... for now. Lie to me again and I might go back on my word. So…" She stepped to him again, close enough to touch. "Why are you really here?"

It was blackmail of the foulest kind. Thalen swallowed dryly, his throat parched and his thirst ignited; the last thing on his mind was entertaining a tribewife, no matter how good she looked-- he didn’t come here and risk his life to sate his lust. “... my brother was butchered by Rarku Nunh twenty summers ago. I… wanted to reclaim his bones and give him the proper burial he deserves.”

Her ears pinned against her head, and her grin faltered. “I’m sorry to hear that… but if your brother passed away such a long time ago, his bones are either buried deep in the sand or ground into dust. It could take you time to find his remains… time you don’t have.”

Thalen knew the truth of it, but it still stung regardless; Nolas was just a boy when that grown man killed him like he was putting down a crippled animal. The sunken face of his half-dead brother flashed in his head and he was brought back to that terrible place all over again. Through labored breaths he blinked and forced himself to try to swallow back that panic, but all he could do was focus on the gargled voice of the greatest man in his life, screaming at him to run.

“You poor thing…” Yuun whispered, snapping him out of his trance when she brushed the back of her hand against his chin. “You were there… yes, I remember… that little boy my Nunh spared from that grisly sport. Twenty summers ago-- how old were you?”

Through a scratchy throat and a sudden headache Thalen answered with, “It was my sixth summer…”

“The bones may be gone…” She started, tracing his bottom lip with her thumb. “... but our Tia Keeper takes the weapons and armor after every battle to better train our boys. Perhaps he still has that small wooden shield?” His eyes lit up with newfound hope; even a memento of his brother would be good enough. Her grin returned when she saw his spirits lifted. “You can’t wander around the territory searching for him… Vahli is itching to find just one good excuse to take your head after that display of disrespect. But I can take you there myself. Would you like that, Tia?”

"Going out of your way to help a complete stranger like me?" Thalen huffed as he perked a brow. “I find it hard to believe this is coming from a place of charity.”

“How right you are.” Her hands reached behind her neck to tug at a few threads, causing her furs to cascade down her body. Thalen’s heart began to pound as she climbed up on top of him, using a hand to push him onto his back. “A favor for a favor… mate with me like you would if I were Era. I want to know what it feels like to be mounted by a young Tia again…”

“S-someone will hear us…!” He protested, placing a hand on her shoulder to get her to stop.

She leaned back just enough to grab the door and swing it closed behind her, plunging the inside of the wagon in darkness. He felt her press herself against his body, her hot breath tickling his neck and ear. 

“Then we better be quiet…”

[garlicbreakfast]

Carefully

https://garlicbreakfast.tumblr.com/post/612674808244748288/i-just-want-to-feel-his-chest-just-a-little-bit

OK, guys. By now it’s absolutely clear that I’m absolutely crazy, because I’m continuing on this throw-away idea of the completely innocent bangclaesbang (as per link above).

I cannot stress enough that ‘Claes’ in this story is as abstract as it’s possible, barely with any link to the real person. This ‘Claes’ is maybe a bit younger, UNMARRIED, having no (struggling with) meaningful relationships, basically an abstraction of one cashet of his personality, incidentally wearing that blue suit (above).

He’s NOT famous, most probably touring with one of his theatre productions and thusly having an after-party…and meeting a young woman…

Warnings: ? Danish kink, swearing kink (ha!), a bit of conflicted fingering…WICKER CHAIRS!

A FOLLOW-UP of the story in link above (you might want to read it first)

P.S. I apologize for my (google translate) Danish. But what ‘Claes’ says actually adds a bit to the story. You might want to know what he says:)

CAREFULLY

“We’ve done everything backwards,” he says, smiling and frowning. The frown is very cute, the underlying concern endears you immensely, but most of all because it’s so absurd and sweet that, of all things that you’ve done, he would find the most concerning that you’ve done everything backwards.

“I…didn’t know how to…I’ve never done it before,” you blurt out, knowing perfectly well he didn’t mean it like that (you ended up in a dark back hall after a round of intense alcohol-fuelled eye-fucking without having said a word to each other. You even skipped kissing. Till…afterwards.) You don’t remember much of how you both managed to stumble back to the lobby, find a table and order drinks, other than that it involved a lot of, well, stumbling and falling over each other in shrieks of laughter, unfocussed kissing, crawling around and gathering discarded pieces of (his) clothing and (your) dignity. Now you’re pretending to be normal people, as much as it is possible at a theatre awards after-party, and, despite the residual alcohol in your systems, it is awkward all over again.

You start to register the horror on his face and you stupidly find it so cute (because every expression on his face is cute) that only after a while you realize what may have horrified him so. You know you look younger than you are, but again, not that young – it’s him who looks positively boyish, ephemeral and glowing, despite the f..ng two meters or so, and the two decennia he’s got on you… You burst into giggles - for some reason you want to crawl over to his side and hug him, and soothe out the furrowing that is forming on his brow again…

“No, not that! You I only meant what we have just done…” You frantically wave a hand between the two of you. He catches your hand with his, pulls it down to the table, his long strong fingers stroking your ridiculously thin, pale ones, the dark sinews and veins on the broad back of his hand bulging up and flattening with the movement…It’s a wonder, whatever your hands are doing together, you think.

“Maybe that is why you were so inventive”, he remarks easily; you didn’t know it was possible to blush harder than you already had, and yet you do exactly that; feeling silly and very young, you extricate your fingers from his.

‘I guess I was so ‘inventive’, because I didn’t know how it’s supposed to be done!’ you retort with a weird laughter.

‘Hmm, that’s deep. Actually very true. I will remember that.’

You think over what you’ve just said, and you snort, and you giggle and giggle, it’s all the unease that’s been tickling at your insides. You’re a barrel of laughs, Y/N!

He scratches at the day old stubble, the dark, glittering eyes darting all over your face, probably connecting the dots, probably figuring out exactly what kind of idiot you are…. You blink at each other first alternately, then synchronically, and then he cusses and says, rather hopelessly, rubbing his stubbly cheek:

“Do you really think that I am so…”

He cuts himself off and asks:

“How you think it all happens?”

“I don’t know. What?”

‘I don’t know either…It’s just a woman and you, and then it just…, I…I don’t even remember every time it happened - please don’t think I somehow know how it is ‘supposed’ to be done!”

For a fraction of a second, you have this vision: women, a series of women, entering his life while he’s distracted and leaving unnoticed; women, giving him pleasure, a lot of pleasure, drunk, high, hands, mouth, entangled bodies on an anonymous couch, on his couch, occasional breakfast, against the wall of her shower, dinner, dinners, parties… a back hall at an after-party. The thought makes you sad, but also light-headed and tingly –

“So I was good?”

“What? Of course, you were.” He smiles,all his attention on you at once. “But I surely wasn’t. I did nothing for you.”

 He isn’t allowed to be like that. You’ve just found him sad, and otherworldly, and just a boy…He’s not allowed to look at you with those honest, serious eyes and make you feel empty and clench the insides of your thighs, all of your insides together just to get hold of …Damn.

“Hmm. I don’t know? You kind of did,”  you say innocently.

“Really?” His furry eyebrows will be hitting the ceiling any moment.

You look down. Yes, you’re rubbing your thighs together. Fortunately, the place has sensible wicker chairs, and your heated underside has an oddly pleasant feeling.

“I didn’t have what you had, but my panties, well, they’re ruined.” You look up at him very innocently. “They feel…”

He see him hold his breath in.

“…slick. Dirty.”

You have no idea when and how, but suddenly both of your hands are curling over the edge of the wicker chair – between your spread legs – and they anchor you while you’re sliding over the raised ridges of the seat back and forth. You’re at the very back of the small lobby bar, and, at this hour, what you’re doing is by far the most innocent thing going on at the place at the moment.

You look at him, rolling your hips.

He’s so beautiful, stubble, sweat beads, helpless pout on the perfect lips, his tongue licking them, an inky lock falling across the forehead, eyes wide open, the likeness of ultimate clarity in them.

Soon you discover the sideways motion, too, and whatever you’re doing to the unsuspecting piece of furniture, can finally be called its rightful name: you’re humping a wicker chair, and it feels so good to grind your hot slick pussy over the woven furrows and ripples of the fibre which remains blissfully cool. And smooth. And…hard. Tout. You need friction. Just there.  ‘Yes!’ You realize that you’ve been saying things out loud.

‘F.ck,’ he says, and then something else, in that other language. A long tirade, rough, coarse sounds. Friction. He grabs your hand on your thigh just above the knee. ‘Let’s go. Now.’

“Wait, you sigh, still moving. “Swear.”

“What?”

“In Danish. Swear in Danish. Jus talk in Danish.”

His lips move silently, then fold into a loop-sided smile. “You’re crazy. Your kink?” he asks silently.

“Had no idea till two minutes ago.” you whisper, raise yourself off the chair and pull his hand up your thigh. Without further beckoning, his hand slides underneath your dress till it finds the drenched underside of the damn panties. You shudder.

“There’s no hope for your panties,” he whispers, grinning, pushing his thumb inside. He needs to practically peel off the sticky fabric. You’re so raw and overstimulated that his finger feels cool. Soothing. Blissful.

“There’s no hope for me,” you sigh, suddenly completely overwhelmed by the depths of depravity you’re apparently capable of.

“What? I should hope that I will do better than a chair!” he exclaims with mock indignation. In the meantime, he is drawing careful circles around the beady peak he’s discovered first, gradually moving the circular motion to glide along the slick, nearly dripping slit. Then back, to slick up the clitoris, tap tap tap on the very tip. This is where you start to fall apart.

“Kusse,” he hisses. “For helvede!” You are both half-standing, that is, swaying and wobbling, on your respective chairs, forehead-to-forehead, partially shielded by a table from (unlikely) spectators, to whom you most likely would look like a wasted couple holding a particularly uncomfortable staring contest.

You’re not staring. You’re concentrating on his fingers, taking you apart shred by shred, and on his voice, eyes closed. He’s concentrating on the fluttering of your eyelashes. It follows the rhythm of his finger movements. This is what he’s told you in English. The rest is Danish.

“Beskidte pige. Jeg vil kneppe dig. Jeg vil kneppe dig så snart jeg kan. Jeg vil slikke dig. Jeg vil kysse dig.

Det er godt, at du ikke forstår mig. Du er smuk. Meget mærkelig. Jeg forstår dig ikke, og jeg vil kneppe dig..! Du forstår mig ikke, og jeg vil tage dig til paradis..”

“Nu!”

There are tears in your eyes, and he kisses them off. Very carefully.

[whatisthiscontentyouspeakof]

Miraculous: Tales of Another Life

Tage List:

@iwantwhirlledpeasandlotsatrees

First Previous Next

Origins Day 1 Part 4

He saw a red figure coming towards him as the screaming got louder, but before he could doing anything the figure smacked into him, sending them both tumbling towards the ground. Adrien felt the figure, another person, smack against his chest as, was that string?, wrapped around them. Right before the could hit the ground they suddenly stopped. The string had not only tangled them up, but saved them from a very painful landing. 

Adrien looked at the person tangled up with him. a girl that appeared around his age with blue haired pigtails and a domino mask just like his, though hers was ladybug patterned. 

“Well her there,” he greeted, “nice of you to drop in.”

“I’m sorry.” the girl apologized. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I bet your the partner my Kwami told me about,” Adrien said, as soon as his feet were on the ground again and he was no longer tangled up with the girl. “I’m…mmm…” he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of a name yet. “Chat Noir. Yeah, Chat Noir.” He liked it, nice, simple. easy to remember and self explanatory. He looked to the girl who was trying to get her…yoyo? untangled from his baton which was still balancing above them between the two roof tops. “And you are?”

“I’m Mar-oh-mal-eh“ She said, pulling on her yoyo, also sounding like she hadn’t thought of a name.  She stopped as her yoyo gave way. She reached out to grab it but unfortunately for Adrien, or Chat Noir as he was now being called, it thunked him on the head. His baton landed beside his feet with a clatter. “Madly clumsy.” the girl finished. “I am so clumsy.”

“No sweat clumsy girl,” Chat Noir said, grabbing his baton. “I’m learning the ropes too.”

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The ground shook which each boom. He and the girl both looked up and watched as the Montparnasse Tower collapsed. 

Chat Noir didn’t allow himself to feel horrified at what he just witness. He knew he needed to he help out and take down this villain before it could destroy anything else. 

He ran forward, shoving his baton towards the ground, allowing it to expand and vault him over to the tower, and Stoneheart. 

Time to actually be a hero.

Marinette watched as the black cat theme person accurately named Chat Noir, vault himself towards danger. 

“Hey wait!” she called after him as he landed on the roof of a nearby building. “Where are you going?”

There was no way he could be heading towards Stoneheart. They hadn’t trained nor did they have a plan. There was no way they could take down a rock monster. 

“To save Paris, right.” Chat Noir called back to her.

So maybe she had been wrong. 

She watched as he jumped away, not being able to do anything to stop him.

She looked down at the yoyo in her hand. “Trust yourself.” she whispered, remembering all the words of encouragement Tikki had said to her before disappearing into the earrings. 

“Trust yourself.” she said, this time with a bit more forced confidence as she threw her hand back, spinning the yoyo, before flinging it towards the building Chat Noir had just jumped form. With a pulled and a scream, she was once again airborne, whether she wanted to be or not.

She so wasn’t cut out for this.

Chat Noir arrived at a stadium where Stoneheart was chasing a kid about his age. Chat Noir got his baton ready, aiming for just in front of the stone monster just as the kid trip and fell, successfully cutting Stoneheart off. 

“Hey,” he said landing, as the monsters target ran off. He brought his baton up to sit on his should, “it’s not very nice to pick on people who are smaller then you.”

“I guess you’re talking about yourself.” Stoneheart said. He pulled back in fist and swung it down aiming to squash Chat Noir. 

But Chat was expecting it. After all, what do you get when goading a villain. He jumped out of the way, placing his baton in front of him so he could fended himself. While this may not be like fencing, hopefully he’d be able to fight the monster off just fine. 

Stoneheart tried to smack him flat, like he was just an annoying bug but Chat managed to jump out of the way again.

When Stoneheart stuck down at him a third time, he was ready. He used the rocky fist as a jumping point, landing on the back of the things head and smacking him with the metal baton before jumping to safely.

A yellow light surrounded Stoneheart causing him to double in size, turning around to face Chat Noir, defiantly pissed off now.

That so wasn’t good.

“Where are you partner?” Chat Noir asked, mainly to himself since it was just him and Stoneheart. Now would so be a good time to have some back up.

Marinette watched as Chat Noir tried fighting Stoneheart, causing monster Ivan to just get bigger and angrier, though his main form of attack still seemed to be trying to squash Chat Noir like a bug. Like what she currently was.

“Oh, I can’t. I’m not going to be able to do it.” Marinette. Tikki should have chosen someone with confidence, who was athletic and had all their limbs and wasn’t a complete scary cat. 

Marinette watched in horror as Stoneheart lifted up the goal and flung it at Chat Noir, who managed to dodge it, but now it way  flying towards the stadium entrance where Alya was crouching, filming the interaction on her phone. Chat Noir saw what was happening and flung his baton out, causing to expand and suspended itself over the concrete above Alya. The goal hit the baton, and bounced off, landing in the grass beside an unharmed Alya. 

Chat Noirs act of heroism caused him to not pay attention to Stoneheart, who picked up the feline hero in one of his giant fists. 

“What are you waiting for super red bug.” Alya’s voice called out to her. “The world is watching you.”

Now most people would think this would only set Marinette into a deeper spiral of panic but it actually helped. As Marigold, Marinette was used to trending to be someone else, and while as the base of it, she was still the same as Marigold, she didn’t change her personality completely, Marigold knew what to say or do, how to be confident and with a few tweaks, maybe even be a hero.

Marinette looked back at the Stoneheart held Chat Noir strapped, forcing any her fear and doubt, replacing it with determination. She could do this. First things first, rescue her partner.

Marinette jumped from the top of the stadium, eyes locked on Stoneheart, as she flung her yoyo out, wrapping around Stonehearts legs, as she slid between them.

“Animal cruelty? How shameful.” she said, giving the yoyo string a tug, tying Stonehearts legs together, causing him to fall to the ground, as well as releasing Chat Noir. 

Chat Noir bounce across the ground as he was flung from Stonehearts grip. Marinette heard Alya excitedly go ‘yes’ as she rushed over to him.

“Sorry it took so long, Chat Noir.” she apologized. 

“It’s cool Wonder Bug,” he said. He stretched out as he got to his feet. “Not lets kick his rocky behind.”

He rushed towards Stoneheart but Marinette grabbed his tail, his belt? tail, yanking him back towards her. “Wait.” she said. “Haven’t you noticed? He gets bigger and stronger with every attack. We have to do something different.”

But what?’

“Different how?” Chat Noir asked, as if reading her mind.

Which was un-usefully blank. “Uh,” she let out dumbly. She hadn’t really gotten that far in her plan. “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Chat Noir said. He turned and faced Stoneheart. “Let’s use our powers. CATACLYSM!”

Chat Noir glanced at his hand, which not had black puffs of black smoke or something toxic looking, coming off of it. He turned to bug girl. “Apparently i destroy whatever I touch.” he told her.

“I don’t need a superpower to destroy everything.” Bug girl said, though it sounded like she only meant for herself to hear it. Chat Noir wondered if the cat ears actually gave him cat like hearing. He’d have to test it out later. 

For now, lets see what this hand could do.

Chat Noir turned around and touched the goal post, watching in fascination as it started to rust.

“No! Don’t do that!” Bug girl yelled right as his hand made contact. What was her problem? 

The goal post collapsed along with the rest of it.

“Cool!” Chat Noir said, turning back to Stoneheart. “It’s just you and me now.”

He ran towards the monster. “Time to rumble, soon to be rubble.”

“Chat Noir,” Bug girl called after him. “Wait.”

Why wait when he was about to end this thing?

Chat Noir jumped int eh air, propelling himself way higher then he would without the magic suit, smacking his hand against one fo Stonehearts toes as he landed. 

Nothing happened.

Why isn’t anything happening? It worked on the goal post.

He tapped his hand against the toe a few times. Maybe he just didn’t get enough contact. 

Nothing.

“Oh oh,” he said, looking up at the massive stone monster. “I guess I only get one shot to use my power.”

He waved at Stoneheart. Maybe if he looked none threatening, he wouldn’t be squished. 

Well he was half right, he thought to himself as Stoneheart kicked back towards bug girl. 

“And you only have five minutes before you transform back,” Bug girl told him as she looked down at him disapprovingly. “Didn’t you kwami explain anything to you?”

“Chat Noir put his hands behind his head somewhat sheepish but still wanting to appear confident. After all, it’s not like he was hurt. “I guess I was a little excited about my new life.”

“Well, up to me.” Bug girl said. She flung her yoyo up into the sky. “LUCKY CHARM!”

Marinette watched as a red light came from her yoyo and…a bodysuit fell from the sky. Wasn’t this power suppose to be helpful?

“Super power.” Chat Noir said in a slightly mocking tone, though it didn’t sound like he was trying to be hurtful. 

“My Kwami told me I had to break the object where the, whatchamacallit, the akuma, is hiding.” Marinette explained. 

“Well,” Chat Noir said, “he’s made entirely out of stone.”

“His right hand,” Marinette said, trying to think up a plan as she looked at a slowly approaching Stoneheart. “It’s still closed. He never opened it. It’s like the Russian dolls. The object isn’t on him, it’s hidden in his fist.”

“So what’s you plan?” Chat Noir asked. 

Marinette looked back at Stoneheart, thinking. It was as if the world went black and white. Stonehearts fist lit up in red with black polkadots. So did Alya who was still filming on the other side of the field. And finally so did the hose, once at where you turned it on and then again where it laid at her and Chats feet. 

“This.” Marinette said, reaching down and picking up the hose as her plan formed. She shoved it into the wetsuit, which was like a wetsuit version of her suit, making sure the hose couldn’t slip out. 

She then tossed out her yoyo, wrapping it around Chat Noirs feet. “Don’t resist.” She old him. “Trust me.”

She yanked Chat Noir off his feet, who let out a scream of alarm, swinging him around a bunch of times before flinging him away, right into Stonehearts fist. 

“This girl’s crazy!” Chat Noir yelled as she did so.

“Catch me if you can.” she taunted Stoneheart. She flung herself at Stoneheart, aiming closer to his right fist. 

Just as she’d hoped, Stoneheart opened up his fist, dropping the object hidden within, as he grabbed her. 

“And now,” Marinette said, glancing towards her new friend. “Alya! The tap!”

Thankfully Alya got what she meant, instantly running towards the tap and turning it on. Within mamanents the wetsuit expanded, forcing Stoneheart to release her. She landed and instantly ran to the idea he’d dropped, stomping her foot on it. The rock like item crushed under her foot, releasing a black and purple butterfly. She watched it fly away, amazed that she had done it. 

Chat Noir watched as bug girl stomped on the time that had following out of Stonehearts hand. A weird black and purple butterfly flew out and away. Purple cracks started to appear along Stoneheart until he was completely incased in them. They crumbled away revealing a large teenage boy around  his age.

Chat Noir landed on his butt unceremoniously since there was no longer a rock fist holding him up in the air. He turned and looked back at the bug girl. 

“That girl is awesome,” he couldn’t help but say. There was no way he could have saved the day without her. Nor could he have come up with that plan. “She’s crazy awesome.”

“Wha-what’s going on?” The boy who used to be Stoneheart asked. “What am I doing here?”

Chat Noir was confused but he ignored the boy instead turning toward bug girl. “You were incredible miss..a… bug lady.” he complimented. “You did it.”

Bug lady put her hands out in front of her to stop him. “We both did it, partner,” she told him. She put her hand out and Adrien instantly got what she was try8ing to do, throwing his own fist out.

“Pound it,” they both said as they fist bumped. 

Chat Noirs ring let out an annoying beeping sound. He glanced at it to see the toxic green paw print blinking.

“You should get going,” Bug lady said. “Our identities must remain secret.”

Fair enough.

Chat Noir gracefully bowed towards his partner, “Fair well milady.” he said turning around and running away. “Let’s do this again soon, okay?” he called behind him. 

Marinette watched as he jumped and used his baton to get out of the stadium. “Uh huh,” Marinette agreed. “Not too soon I hope.”

She didn’t need another monster attacking Paris after all. 

She glanced back at Ivan who was sitting confused on the ground. She looked at the piece of paper in her hand and couldn’t help but wonder what Kim had written that had sent Ivan off so badly earlier in the day. 

“You haven’t even got the guts to tell Mylène you love her, wuss,” she read aloud. 

Marinette felt her heart go out to Ivan. She walked doer to him.

“Kim wrote it,” He explained since as far as he knew, she didn’t know who he was or what was going on. “He’s always making fun of me.”

Marinette couched down, placing a hand on his shoulder, hating the ashamed looked on his face. She couldn’t believe how mean Kim could be sometimes. “You know, you should get so bent out of shape about that.” Marinette told him, trying to cheer him up. “There’s no shame in telling someone you love them, Ivan.”

Ivan looked at her confused. “Hey, how do you know my name, miss?”

Marinette quickly pulled her hand away. Shit, she hadn’t thought about that.

“Uncanny.” Marinette turned and saw Alya crouched close to them, still filming. “Amazing! Spectacular! Are you protecting Paris from now on? How did you get your powers? Did you get stung by a radioactive ladybug?”

Marinette defaulted to her reporter training, ignoring Alya’s questions as she headed towards the end of the stadium so she could leave. 

“Oh I have a ton of questions to ask you, miss, uh…” Alya trailed off. 

“Ladybug. Call me Ladybug,” Marinette watched herself say to Alya before using her yoyo to propel herself to the top of the stadium and way.

“Ladybug,” Alya repeated, keeping her phone’s camera on Marinette as Ladybug. “Super awesome.”

The screen went back to Nadja of TVi. “So thanks to this ammeter forage,” she said, “ the Parisians now know the identities of their heroes.”

Marinette couldn’t help but smile. “I did it Tikki.” she said happily.

Tikki, who had reappeared once the Ladybug costume had transformed back, thankfully returning Marinette to normal, black hair, regular prosthetic and everything, floated up to her face. “You see, you were up to it.” she said hugging her cheek. Marinette closed her and nudged her with her head affectionally.

“Marinette, dinner time!” Her maman called from downstairs. Marinette turned her computer off and made her way downstairs, a little hop in her step, feeling proud of what she’d done to protect her city and save Ivan from the evil butterfly thing.

Marinette got downstairs to see her maman and dad by the table with the TV on to the news. 

“I am please to announce we will be holding a huge celebration in honour of our cities new protectors, Ladybug and Chat Noir.” Mayor Bourgeois announced from in front of Hôtel de Ville. 

“Ladybug. Her name is Ladybug.” Adrien said, watching Mayor Bourgeois’s news conference. He couldn’t stop thinking about her and the way she had saved the day. He wondered if she was English since she chose an English name for her hero persona. 

“EWIE!” Plagg said flying over to him. Adrien hadn’t even noticed that Plagg had gotten into his food, carrying his desert over to him with a look of disgust on his little face. “What is this?”

“Seriously?” Adrien demanded. He could so do with the annoying flying cat. “My personal chef made all this.”

“If you expected to get my energy back,” Plagg said, throwing the dessert to the ground, “after a transformation, I need to eat something more delicate.”

Adrien sighed. Why couldn’t he just have a magic ring that gave him powers. “Okay, what do you want?”

“Oh my!” Marinette turned from where she was washing the dishes to look at her maman in alarm. Was she okay? Did something happen?

Her maman was looking at the TV where Nadja was reporting on Stoneheart again.

“Just as Paris is about to celebrate the appearance of our two new superheroes Ladybug and Chat Noir,” Nadja said as the TV changed to show a clip of purple butterfly landing on a lands shoulder, turning him into Stoneheart, “a new wave of panic is sweeping across the capital as dozens of people are mysteriously transformed into stone monsters.”

Marinette felt horror sweep over her and her papa pulled her maman to his chest. 

 “It’s simply unbelievable,” Nadja continued.

Marinette bolted from the kitchen and up to the privacy of her room so she could talk to Tikki without her parents seeing. 

“Camembert cheese,” Adrien said. Why did it have to by stupid, stinky cheese. “Fantastic. All he eats is Camembert cheese, which means I’m going to smell like stinky old cheese.”

“These victims transformed into stone beings,” Nadja caught his attention as she reported on what looked like dozens more Stonehearts, “are still, like statues. Police are perplexed. What will happen to them? Will they come to life? Or will they stay frozen in time forever?”

“Plagg, what’s going on?” Adrien asked, getting to his feet. He thought everything was suppose to be good now that they’d defeated the original Stoneheart. “I thought we defeated him.”

“Did you capture the Akuma?” he asked.

“What’s capturing the Akuma have to do with the other stone beings?” Marinette asked, not understanding what Tikki meant. 

“An Akuma can multiply.” Tikki explained. “That’s why it must be captured. If Ivans emotions become negative again then the Akuma will turn him back into Stoneheart again. He’ll control the stone beings and bring them to life to serve as his army.”

“So that means that this is all my fault.” Marinette said, bringing her hands up to her face as panic started to settle in.  “I knew it! See Tikki, I’m not cut out to be a superhero. I’m only going to keep messing up.”

“Keep calm, it was only your first time.” Tikki said, trying to reassure her. “You’re going to go back and capture Stonehearts akuma,” Marinette turned her back not wanting to listen to Tikki. She was a failure, “and do it successfully.”?

Marinette whipped around to face Tikki. “I can’t. I told you I’m clumsy, and a cripple, and I create disaster all the time.” she said. “I’m only make things worse, for me, for you, for everyone. Chat Noir will be better off without me. I’m quitting.”

“So I can’t do anything without Ladybug?” Adrien asked Plagg. That sucked. 

“Only Ladybug can capture akumas and repair damage caused by super villains.” Plagg explained.

Okay. That was fine. Sure he would have to wait for her to make a move but she had kicked ass earlier in the day so she’d be able to do it again. 

Marinette looked at herself in her vanity mirror, only able to see what a failure she was. “If Chat Noir can’t capture akumas then just find another Ladybug. I told you, I’m not cut out to be a hero.” Marinette told Tikki. She was done. She wasn’t a hero and that was the end of it. She took off her prosthetic arm so she could use her numb to help take her earrings off. “I’m sorry Tikki.” she said as she did so.

“No! Don’t ta-“ Whatever Tikki was going to say suddenly cut off. Marinette looked up and saw that Tikki had disappeared.

“Tikki?” she called softly. She looked around her room before sighing. It made sense that Tikki had disappeared now that Marinette had decided not to become a hero. 

Marinette turned back to her vanity, where the hexagon box was, and carefully placed the earrings inside, placing the box in the middle door and shutting it away. It was better this way.

“I’m really sorry, Tikki,” Marinette said, feeling grief wash over her. Grief for losing Tikki, who’d she liked, and grief for failing Paris and trapping innocent people as stone monsters. 

She’d find a new Ladybug tomorrow. Someone who’d actually be a hero.

Next

[dearlazerbunny]

Not to be,, That Person, but about that asks-for-writers thing you reblogged...... Every 6th interval or whatever it's called? So 6, 12, 18, 24, 30? I wanted to know basically all of them, so I was hoping this would be a good compromise 😅 -irrelevantbutembarrassing

Oh my god you’re so cute XD I love you, and I’m def vain enough I’d deadass answer every single one lmao

6. Favorite character name you’ve come up with?

I literally just remembered this because you made me reread Sister of Mine when I was going through your comments on it, but I quite liked Adelaide as a paired name to Armitage, and then them using Della and Tage as nicknames for each other. All my fics are usually Y/N so I don’t often get to think up names!

12. Favorite book/piece you’ve written?

Oof, that’s hard. I intensely love bits and pieces of several things I’ve written, but Pas De Deux line-for-line is probably the piece I’ve consistently loved the most since I wrote it.

18. Multiple point of views or just one?

Multiple points of view is hard as heckkk. Which is possibly why I like Pas De Deux so much, because I think that’s the one time I pulled it off well. I’d like to try my hand at it more simply to stretch my skills, but woof. It makes my brain hurt.

24. Writing one piece at a time, or multiple?

Six months ago I would have adamantly said only one at a time, but now I’m seeing the benefit of jumping around- especially with one longer piece and then doing one-shots or requests concurrently. That way if I feel stuck in a rut, I can completely change fandoms and try to shake it off (that’s how Ignite resurfaced!) and come back later with a fresh eye.

30. Sad or happy endings?

Gah. Depends on my mood. A lot of times I’m reading fanfic as a pick me up, so if not blatantly happy I want the ending to at least be somewhat hopeful- but that generally goes for any media I’m consuming. So I’m going to vote C) bittersweet.

I LOVE YOU BUNCHES I REALLY DO 💜💜💜 hearing from you always brightens my day!

[cromulentbookreview]

It Can Definitely Happen Here

Or: Internment by Samira Ahmed!

This will be a likely be a short review for the following reasons:

I’m lazy.

I only just finished the book

I had the ARC for months and only just got to it, see #1.

No one reads this, this blog is literally just me screaming into the black void that is the internet letting it know that I exist.

The book is out today and, once again, I have missed the point of an “advanced review.” Advanced meaning “in advance of the publication date.” Meaning “probably not the day the damn book comes out.”

Note: It has come to my attention that the book actually comes out on March 19, 2019. So...I actually got this review done on time. Ha. Aha. Ahahahahahahahaha.

Also, this book takes on a whole new meaning after the recent terrorist attack in New Zealand. I went back and reread some scenes and cried even more than I did already.

And now back to my regularly scheduled review.

Layla Amin is a regular American teenager. Only the America she lives in is under the control of a bunch of racist pieces of shit. Ahmed never gives names to these assholes in power - you can guess - but they don’t even really need names. It’s depressingly easy to imagine just who these people are. Anyway, the people in power are doing whatever they want. So they’ve declared all Muslims enemies of the state. Because of course they would. 

Unfortunately, Layla comes from a Desi family who are Muslim. They’re not super religious or anything, but that doesn’t matter. Rather than checking the “no religion” box on the census, the Amins refused to hide who they are, so they put down that they are Muslim. And now the Administration is using that data to round up all Muslim Americans and put them in internment camps.

Sound familiar? Yeah, because we’ve totally done it before. The Internment of Japanese Americans during WWII might feel like distant history, but it seriously wasn’t that long ago. Like, for serious serious not that long ago. 77 years is not that long ago in the grand scheme of things. People who were in those internment camps are still around. Like American Treasure and Mr. Sulu, George Takei who was just a kid when he was interred, first in Rohwer, Arkansas then at Tule Lake in California. As you can imagine, the internment camps for Japanese Americans were put in places that were less than hospitable. Like the middle of the desert. Because humanity can really be the worst sometimes.

Anyway, back to Layla. One night she breaks the nation-wide curfew to go and see her boyfriend, David, as teens are wont to do. Soon after she gets home, though, men with guns show up at her house and give her and her parents 10 minutes to pack up what they need. They’re taken to L.A. where they’re put on a train then put onto buses to a camp called Mobius somewhere outside Independence, California. Just a hop, skip and a jump from Manzanar! So...the desert. And no, this Mobius isn’t anything like the famous Möbius strip, either. This is a cross between a FEMA camp like you’d see after a natural disaster combined with a prison camp. Sure, they have food, water, and adequate shelter. It’s still a goddamn prison camp, though, run by the sadistic Director, whose actual name is never given but you can really picture who this guy looks like. Layla’s parents are, naturally, terrified by the whole situation and just want to keep their heads down and survive. Not Layla, though. She is going to resist, goddamn it! Plus, there’s a guard who is totally on her side. Or is he?

So, Internment - overall I thought the book was OK, but then again, I’m pretty biased towards stories that feature magic and dragons and steampunk. 15-minutes-into-the-future dystopias are less my thing at the moment. Probably because we live in one, but still. The writing was good, especially the descriptions of the yucky dusty desert. I’m a Pacific Northwesterner to my core - give me rain and trees, not desert. Let’s just ignore the fact that a huge portion of my home state is desert. I did like how Ahmed didn’t condemn Layla’s parents for wanting to keep their heads down and endure. Lots of YA novels tend to dismiss or ignore the fears and worries of parents in favor of the teen perspective, so it was nice to see a YA novel that acknowledges the parents’ fears. The main villain, the Director, was a mite cartoonish - but then again, if you watch Sophie Scholl: Die letzten Tage and think the Nazis in that movie are cartoonish, just remember they used actual court transcripts of Sophie Scholl’s trial for that movie. Evil can be pretty cartoony - doesn’t make it less scary. 

However, my favorite part of the whole book is Laya’s friend Ayesha. Ayesha is the best. Why? Because she loves Star Wars and also Riz Ahmed. Because, seriously, how can you not love both Star Wars and Riz Ahmed. I mean, come on:

He’s just so damn gorgeous.

I mean, come on, just look at him.

How much more proof do you need? Because I can look at gifs of Riz Ahmed all day.

Seriously, and yes this is an unpopular opinion alert, but Rogue One might just be my favorite Star Wars movie because I loved all the characters so much and every time I watch it I bawl my eyes out. I seriously wish Rogue One could’ve been a 10-part miniseries so we could’ve gotten to know the characters better. Like Cassian and K2-SO. And Bodhi - I want to know everything about his life and what he’s been up to. The novelization of the movie only offers so much! And I definitely could use a whole trilogy of Baze and Chirrut’s adventures.

Seriously, what were those two up to the whole time? How did they meet? How long have they been adventuring together? What was their life like before the Empire? What were they up to back when they were Guardians of the Whills? What kind of mischief did Chirrut get up to that Baze had to rescue him from? THIS IS INFORMATION THAT I NEED.

The tie-in novels only tell us so much, damn it! Though Rebel Rising was quite good (fuck yeah, Beth Revis!). Why can’t all of the Rogue One crew get spin-off novels? There were a few comics featuring the origin story of Cassian and K2, but I need a whole epic YA novel of their adventures. And Bodhi’s. And Baze and Chirrut’s. All they got was a middle grade novel. It wasn’t even an origin story! It was still good, though. I just want more. MORE, DAMN IT.

Huh, I knew I said this was going to be short review of Samira Ahmed’s Internment, but instead I got into a major Star Wars/Riz Ahmed spiral, there. Sometimes I just can’t help myself. I’ve gotta look at some more Riz Ahmed gifs.

God, he’s gorgeous.

RECOMMENDED FOR: Anyone looking for some scary “it could definitely happen here” YA fiction.

NOT RECOMMENDED FOR: Racists.

RATING: 3.5/5

RELEASE DATE: March 12, 2019. So. Uh. Today.  Actually, it comes out March 19, 2019. For some reason I got the two dates confused. So I was actually a week ahead here? I...I made a deadline? What...what is this feeling....is it...accomplishment of some sort?

Nah, this is a tumblr blog for wasting time, not an accomplishment.

RIZ AHMED:

[thundersstruck]

A Rasmus Dahlin headcannon That was promised due to some circumstances

A/N: alright so I was looking for a post of mine and told @lakingstrash that if she found it she could have an imagine and she did find it but I had already found it but I felt bad so now we’re here... a boyfriend headcannon

Ras is a cutie so it’s okay don’t worry this is fine

Gif credit: @samreinhartt (daksnsjnok hi didn’t know you made this gif that contains supreme cuteness)

Enjoy!!

>> you met Ras at the 2017 world juniors

>> you were young and had to do a field project for one of your classes to be a reporter and you picked World juniors

>> which was fine since you love hockey

>> and Tage Thompson, your childhood friend, was there

>> but it was in Canada so yay travel

>> your assignment was to interview someone from a different country

>> and you eyed Sweden since the beginning

>> Tage knew you had a thing for sweds because who doesn’t

>> and Ras caught your eye

>> so you had been planning to try and find him and ask him for an interview

>> so you were at the rink for one of Tage’s games

>> and you went to get snacks and literally ran into him

>> “oh I’m sorry” “dont worry it’s fine” “let me do something to make it up”

>> needless to say you got an A on your assignment and Ras’ number

>> so you started as a long distance thing

>> and flew to Sweden when you could

>> he official asked you to be his girlfriend with roses at the airport it was cute

>> this boy is a huge cuddle monster

>> is v v soft boy

>> loves just watching movies with you

>> cooking with you is also a fave

>> just spending time with you in general is his favorite

>> not to be cheesy but have you heard the song disconnected by 5 Seconds Of Summer? Yeah one of the lyrics sum up you guys

>> “you are my getaway you are my favorite place”

>> he’s sings those lyrics to you all the time

>> appreciates you and your support so much

>> like a lot

>> loves when you come to his games

>> you went to the Olympics to watch him play

>> he was the happiest boy

>> getting knocked out was tough on him

>> but he then got to spend time with you

>> you spent that night in the hotel room cuddling and watching movies

>> not big on PDA

>> but likes to hold your hand

>> in private though

>> he’s all over you

>> cooking? Arms around your waist

>> on the couch? Cuddling

>> eating at the table? A hand on your leg

>> he just loves you so much

>> is a v smiley boy

>> is a soft kisser

>> random kisses are his favorite

>> if you don’t have time for a real kiss he always kisses your cheek

>> he’s a real gentleman

>> like pulling chairs out and holding the door gentleman

>> you definitely have cute names for each other

>> he likes to call you doll, my love, babe, bug, baby in both English and Swedish

>> you like to call him bub, babe, Ras and Rasberry

>> that last one is your personal favorite

>> it’s also his favorite nickname you have for him

>> “hey Rasberry have you seen my watch?” “Rasberry stop laughing at me” “Rasberry can we have pizza for lunch?” “

>> you’re each other’s backgrounds

>> his weakness? You running your fingers through his hair

>> it started as an accident because it looked so soft

>> but he really liked it and it made him fall asleep

>> so sometimes when he can’t sleep he’ll steal your hand just put it on his head

>> the first time he did this you were like “tf?” And then he explained

>> “Ras baby what are you doing?” “It helps me sleep please.” “Whatever you say Rasberry whatever you say”

>> so now you just do it because you just know

>> you went to the combine with him

>> and you fell in love with Buffalo and knew that’s where he was going

>> you actually first said I love you in Buffalo during the combine week (end?? I don’t remember what it is)

>> “I love you” “I love you too Rasberry”

>> so then draft happened

>> and he was drafted to Buffalo, obviously, this boy doesn’t take the jersey off (has he taken it off I still don’t know and don’t think he has)

>> and made a bold move

>> “move to Buffalo with me?” “What?” “You love the city so just come live with me yeah?” “Umm okay.”

>> you already own a Sabres jersey with his name on it

>> he’s so excited to take on the adventure of the NHL with you

>> he wouldn’t pick anyone else to do it with because he loves you so goddamn much

>> you’re his whole world

>> and he wouldn’t have it any other way

>> oh mY GOd TAGE IS IN BUFFALO NOW AKSNAKHSSKD

[despair-ing]

taged by @laughsinunknownfear

rules: answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to get to know better.

name: basil, juno, maybe saz

star sign: virgo

height: 5’ 1.75”

time: 13:00

birthday: september 21st

favourite bands/artists: my chemical romance, will wood, the taxpayers

last movie: girl, interpreted

last show: stranger things

when did i create this blog: november/ december 2019 or January 2020 i can’t remember

what i post: whatever i want

last thing i googled: how to ignore pain

other blogs: no for i like to subject my followers to all my tomfoolery

do i get asks: nope, but y’all can send me some

following: 404 people (i can garentee half of the accounts are deactivated or inactive but)

hours of sleep: i’m a mix of chronic fatigue making want to sleep at least 12 hours and going to school on 4 hours of sleep at least once a week

instruments: i used to play the flute and i know a bit of piano and guitar, but atlas i am bad at playing instruments because of a lack of hand eye coordination and no lack of joint pain

what i’m waring: pajamas

dream job: don’t really know

dream trip: Greece with my friends

nationally: America

favorite song: currently it’s lynch pins by the taxpayers

last book i’ve read: the fault in our stars by tumblr’s favorite author john green

top three fictional universes: gravity falls, the owl house, and percy jackson/riordenverse

taging: @hideur-pickle-jars @micro-trans-action @sixfourteen @srijellyfishtempura @teabookgremlin @singularstiletto @lifeisntafantasy @enderkitty6504 @chaotic-emo-pigeon @disheveledcatgirl @angie00f @sunnyshortcake

tagged by @redleavesinthewind !!

rules: answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to get to know better.

name: hezekiah or joseph!

star sign: pisces

height: 5’ 8”

time: 8:05 am

birthday: february 23

favourite bands/artists: my chemical romance and iron maiden

last movie: heathers

last show: the umbrella academy i think

when did i create this blog: august of 2020 when i accidentally deleted my old one

what i post: whatever i want

last thing i googled: barclay taz

other blogs: boynygma is my gotham blog, olivermike is my writer blog, ocdhamlet is my classics blog, and i have a mutuals blog as well

do i get asks: yeah quite a bit

following: 852

average hours of sleep: 7

instruments: piano & guitar

what i’m wearing: my pajamas

dream job: park ranger at acadia national park!

dream trip: italy

nationality: american

favourite song: yes to err is human… by will wood OR lent by autoheart

last book i’ve read: american psycho

top 3 fictional universes: TOTALLY THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES!! also camp here and there. and uhhhh i dont know. percy jackson

tagging: @laughsinunknownfear @kafkaguy @ethanbabygirl @eraserheadbabygirl @carfuckerlynch @violetpng @violentdevotion @marymotif @gerryblackwoodsims @itslookingback & anyone else idk

[juttabluehberger]

Der Caminho gibt dir was du brauchst

In den den letzten Wochen habe ich immer wieder versucht, meine erste Pilgerreise am Caminho Português auszuwerten. Aber es ist sehr schwer, diese ganz besondere Erfahrung während vier Wochen auf ein paar wenige Aussagen zu reduzieren.

Wie ein roter Faden zogen sich die Themen Loslassen, Minimalismus und Entschleunigung durch die Pilgerreise.

Loslassen - Dieses Thema steht an oberster Stelle. Als ich in der Weihnachtszeit noch einmal alle Einträge gelesen habe, fiel mir auf wie oft das Thema vorkommt. Natürlich auch unter anderem beim “Pilgern im Regen” (siehe einer der letzten Einträge).

Pilgern war für mich eine Herausforderung auf mehreren Ebenen loszulassen:

Meine Planung, wenn der Bus Verspätung hat und ich alle Anschlüsse verpasse und wenn ich nicht weiß, wie weit ich es schaffen werde und wo mein nächstes Bett steht.

Persönlicher Komfort, wie Rückzugsmöglichkeiten, genügend Ruhe, bequeme Betten mit Bettwäsche, eigenes Bad. 

Ausrüstung für alle möglichen Bedürfnisse, weil man nicht so viel tragen kann.

Kontrolle über Umstände, z.B. wenn jemand im Schlafsaal schnarcht, die Herberge keine Kochgelegenheit und/oder Heizung hat, die Kleidung über Nacht nicht trocken wird, der Check-In erst am späten Nachmittag möglich ist, der Check-Out schon vor Sonnenaufgang sein soll, …

Weitergehen nicht vom Wetter anhängig machen.

Persönliche Begegnungen mit anderen Pilgern genießen, aber nicht wissen, ob ich sie wieder sehen werde.

Leistungsdenken, wie die Anzahl der Kilometer und Geschwindigkeit, aber auch die Ergebnis-Orientierung, etwas zum Herzeigen zu haben, z.B. in Form von Fotos. 

Erinnerungsfähigkeit, wenn die Erlebnisse der letzten Tage in einander verschwimmen und ich bald nicht mehr weiß, wo und wann was passiert ist.

Minimalismus - Trotz allen Einschränkungen ist es befreiend mit so wenig - nämlich nur dem, was du tragen kannst - auszukommen. Aber auch im Blick auf Aufgaben/Tätigkeiten/Ziele - beim Pilgern hat man nur eine: einfach gehen!  

Entschleunigung - Es ist eine besondere Erfahrung wirklich nur zu Fuß unterwegs zu sein. Als ich kurz vor Santiago war, spürte ich einen Widerwillen schon bald mit einem Bus zu fahren. Das schien mir zu schnell. Natürlich ist es ein seltsames Gefühl, wenn man dann in 3 Stunden die Strecke zurück fährt, die man vorher in 3 Wochen gegangen ist.

Ein oft zitierter Satz unter Pilgern ist Der Caminho (Weg) gibt dir nicht das, was du willst, sondern das, was du brauchst.

Ich habe schon sehr bald auf meiner Pilgerreise eine Liste begonnen, die mit “Geschenke des Himmels” überschrieben ist. Denn was immer mir “der Caminho” oder “das Universum” gibt, weiß ich, dass das von meinem himmlischen Vater kommt.

Die Liste von “Geschenke des Himmels” ist lang, aber hier ist eine Auswahl:

Toller Sonnenuntergang am ersten Tag und Bilder von der kräftigen Brandung.

Gottes Zusage, dass er mir immer das nächste Bett zeigen wird. Während ich ein Restaurant begutachte, entdecke ich eine Herberge im gleichen Haus und kann einchecken. Kurz danach beginnt es zu schütten. 

Der späte Check-In einer Herberge führt dazu, dass ich in eine andere gehe und dort eine tolle Unterhaltung mit einer anderen Pilgerin habe.

Fürsorge und Beratung einer Apothekerin für meine Blasen.

Gottes Führung in die Jugendherberge, wo ich eine amerikanische Krankenschwester spezialisiert auf Fußprobleme treffe, die mir hilft mein Blasenproblem zu analysieren und so zu einer Lösung beiträgt. 

Neue Schuhe, die mir ein blasenfreies Weitergehen ermöglichen.

Ein namenloser portugiesischer Engel, der mir mit Händen und Füßen eine Umgehung des überfluteten Weges zeigt und ich nicht wie alle anderen durch knietiefes Wasser gehen muss.

Freude an der Natur und Begegnungen mit verschiedenen Tieren.

Herbergseltern, die mir über die Runden helfen, als ich länger keinen Bankomaten finde und bei denen ich bargeldlos übernachten und essen kann. 

Eine deutsche Pilgerin, die mir eine Wasserflasche schenkt, als mein Vorrat zu Ende ist. 

Gemeinsames Pilgern mit einer Französin und einigen anderen als wir uns verlaufen. 

Private Herbergen, die kleinere Schlafsäle haben und Betten mit Vorhängen und Steckdose. 

Unterhaltung mit Gott und sein Reden im Regen, das schließlich zu einer Antwort im Blick auf meine Malerei führt. 

Keine Knieprobleme und keine verstauchten Füße.

Möglichkeit gerade dann in Santiago zu sein, als das Treffen meiner FB-Gruppe stattfindet.

… und viele andere kleine und große Führungen Gottes.

Es gäbe soviel mehr zu erzählen, aber ich hoffe, das vermittelt euch einen kleinen Eindruck, was für eine besondere Zeit diese Pilgerreise war.

Insgesamt muss ich aber sagen, dass sie zu kurz war, weil ich erst nach zwei Wochen so richtig in den Pilgermodus kam und nur wenige Tage später bereits in Santiago ankam. Und somit stand schon bald fest, ich will bald wieder pilgern, aber diesmal länger. Die Nächste Pilgerreise ist bereits in Planung ….

***

The Caminho gives you what you need

During the last few weeks I have tried again and again to evaluate my first pilgrimage on the Caminho Português. But it is very difficult to reduce this very special experience during four weeks to a few statements.

The themes of letting go, minimalism and deceleration ran like a golden thread through the pilgrimage.

Letting go - this theme stood at the top of the agenda. When I reread all the entries during the Christmas season, I noticed how often this topic occurs. Of course, especially during the "pilgrimage in the rain" (see one of the last entries).

Pilgrimage was a challenge for me to let go on several levels:

My planning, when the bus is late and I miss all connections or when I do not know how far I will make it and where my next bed will be.

Personal comfort, such as privacy, sufficient rest, comfortable beds with bed linen, a private bathroom. 

Gear for all kinds of needs, because you can't carry that much.

Control over circumstances, e.g. when someone snores in the dormitory, the hostel has no cooking facilities and/or heating, the clothes do not dry overnight, check-in is only possible in the late afternoon, check-out should be before sunrise, …

Continuing the pilgrimage, not depending on the weather.

Enjoying personal encounters with other pilgrims, but not knowing if I will see them again.

Performance thinking, like the number of kilometres and speed, but also the result orientation, to have something to show, e.g. in form of photos. 

Ability to remember, when the experiences of the last few days blur into each other and I soon don't know where and when what happened.

Minimalism - Despite all the limitations, it is liberating to get by with so little - namely only what you can carry. But also with regard to tasks/activities/goals - on a pilgrimage you have only one aim: just walk!  

Deceleration - It is a special experience to only move forward on foot. When I was approaching Santiago, I felt a reluctance to take a bus. It seemed too fast. Of course, it's a strange feeling when you then drive back in 3 hours the distance you walked before in 3 weeks.

An often quoted sentence among pilgrims is:

The Caminho (Way) gives you not what you want, but what you need.

Very soon on my pilgrimage I started a list called "Gifts from Heaven". Because whatever "the Caminho" or "the universe" gives me, I know that this comes from my heavenly father.

The list of "gifts from heaven" is long, but here is a selection:

Great sunset on the first day and pictures of the powerful surf.

God's promise that he will always show me the next bed. While checking out a restaurant, I discover a hostel in the same house and can check in. Shortly afterwards it starts to pour. 

The late check-in of one hostel causes me to go to another one and have a great conversation with another pilgrim.

Care and advice from a pharmacist for my blisters.

God's guidance to the hostel where I meet an American nurse specializing in foot problems who helps me analyze my blister problem and helps to find a solution. 

New shoes that allow me to walk on without blisters.

A nameless Portuguese angel, who shows me with hands and feet how to avoid the flooded path and I don't have to walk through knee-deep water like everyone else.

Joy of nature and encounters with different animals.

Hostel parents, who help me out when I can't find an ATM for a long time and where I can stay overnight and eat without cash. 

A German pilgrim who gives me a bottle of water when my supply runs out. 

Walking together with a French woman and some others as we get lost. 

Private hostels that have smaller dormitories and beds with curtains and power outlets. 

Conversations with God and his talking in the rain, which eventually leads to an answer in terms of my painting. 

No knee problems and no sprained feet.

Possibility to be in Santiago just when the reunion of my FB group takes place.

... and many other small and large gifts of God and special guidance.

There would be so much more to tell, but I hope this gives you a glimpse of what a special time this pilgrimage was.

But all in all I have to say that it was too short, because it took me two weeks to get into the pilgrimage mode and only a few days later I arrived in Santiago. And so it was soon clear that I wanted to go on pilgrimage again soon, but this time longer. The next pilgrimage is already in planning .... 

[concussed-to-pieces]

Downright Neighborly; Part Two

Fandom: WWE/TNA

Pairing: Jeff Hardy/Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thirst Party Saturday Crew, welcome aboard our jaunty ship once again! Tagging our usual suspects, the Prince Of Badasses @toxiicpop, Strowman's Maestro @hardcorewwetrash and the All-Seeing Polaris @oraclegazes!

(Also I apologize, but due to my laptop losing its mind every time I try to tag people I'm going to abandon the 'new tagees' list. I am so sorry everyone! D: ) Enjoy!

[TRIGGER WARNING!: For occasionally vivid descriptions of unspecified eating disorder(s) and brief allusions to drug usage.]

You supposed you could have been a little less surprised when you woke up to nothing but a note and an empty house. You ended up staying in bed most of the day, staring at the ceiling and berating yourself not only for the crying (which you couldn’t seem to stop), but for thinking that he would actually stay. Nobody ever stayed, that just wasn’t how things were in your world.

You were all alone out here for a reason.

The next few days were difficult. Calling in to work wasn’t really an option. Everything seemed to remind you of that…well. You kept thinking that you heard him, or caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. But it was just your imagination, wishful thinking.

So you rotated the fruit and swallowed your tears, and if you were a little quieter, well, that was allowed in this instance.

Just go to work, do the work, come home, go to sleep. Repeat.

You started asking for more hours. The silence of the woods around your house felt like it was crushing you on your days off so you decided that less days off were the solution. The passage of time was marked by the quiet ding of the microwave; your garden wasted away outside while you sat in the kitchen with the blinds down.

You had nightmares about Crazzy Steve suffocating you, filthy fingers pressed over your nose and mouth, about Rosemary beating your head in on the front steps with a loose brick.

And that was the worst part, waking up in a cold sweat, chest pitching for breath as you shivered and tried not to cry because you were sick of crying and no one, no one was there to comfort you.

...

When you heard the lawnmower start up one morning you thought you were still dreaming. You pulled yourself out of bed and got dressed. Movements slow and creaky like a sleepwalker, you trudged down your front steps and out into the woods.

The woods that you'd dragged Jeff through by the back of his pants, the woods you'd run through to get to safety. It felt like another lifetime ago.

You hated how your heart fell when you realized it was just Señor Benjamin, the old man offering you a friendly wave from atop the machine when he spotted you. He started making an (incredibly slow) beeline across the lawn towards you. The grass was almost mid-shin height.

“Hola, neighbor! The Hardys aren’t around at the moment, would you like to leave a message?” He asked after he’d stopped the mower blades.

You shook your head. “I was just…I mean, do you know when they’ll be back?”

“Ah, they did not give me a specific date. Mister Hardy said sometime this spring. So I will carry on managing the grounds until they get back from their Expedition.” Benjamin’s words made your heart sink and you were barely able to nod in reply.

Spring.

Who the hell just upped skirts and left these days? You huffed out an angry breath as you stalked back to your house. The anger was a welcome change from the usual misery that seemed to hang over you like a rain cloud; you embraced the hot emotion gladly. You threw open your front door and glared accusingly at the trashcan that overflowed with microwave meal packaging, the sink full of dirty silverware.

I’m alone out here for a reason and no stupid boy with stupid tattoos is going to change that shit.

You were exhausted once you were done cleaning your house, but it wasn’t the achy exhaustion of depression that had grown so familiar in the past weeks. It was the exhaustion of a hard day’s work, the kind that left you bone-tired but absolutely satisfied with what you’d accomplished. With a mental promise to fix your garden back up tomorrow, you fell into bed and slept well for the first time since Jeff had left.

Keeping occupied was obviously the best course of action when it came to staving off the sadness that threatened to swallow you whole. You fixed up your garden and filled your kitchen with garlands of drying herbs, picked more jars for preserves and kept your longer shifts in the grocery store, tried to remember to eat.

Señor Benjamin stopped in at the store sometimes for essentials, and sometimes just to talk. You imagined upkeep on the somewhat massive Hardy estate couldn’t be easy for one man to handle, but he seemed to do fine on his own.

“It is…much less exciting without the boys around.” He mentioned one afternoon, smiling in a way that indicated he was perfectly fine with that.

The days grew shorter and the chilly weather set in. Having finally saved up enough to justify the purchase, you got internet for your home usage and proceeded to look up tutorials on growing plants indoors during the less temperate months. You were determined to keep the sadness at bay even through the cold and rain of winter, doing your best to stay out of the rut of remembering, doing your best to eat.

It was hard to take baths. You felt like your ribs poked out more when you laid down, like your hipbones jutted too far. Plus, that night flooded back into your brain every time you did, and you hated crying for stupid reasons. Jeff limping into the bathroom and holding his side, the wounds on his back--

You were better off showering. It didn’t take up so much time.

You were doing fine. It didn’t hurt anymore. You forgot to eat sometimes and most days it was a struggle to get out of bed but you were fine and it didn't hurt anymore.

…

“You've grown thinner.”

You had been dreading the holidays (while denying up and down that you were dreading them). But this shit kind of made spending Christmas Eve alone pale in comparison.

Willow had the audacity to just…sit at your kitchen table. With an ornate, black and white cup of what appeared to be tea held delicately with gloved fingers. They tilted their head when you walked in the door, but besides that they gave no indication that anything about this situation was odd. You, on the other hand, were more than flustered. The last time you’d seen them, they were a bit more…lively.

“Well, sit down already. Can I get you a cup? It’s orange pekoe.” Willow said impatiently after you stood in the doorway for several minutes, mentally debating on whether you should flee screaming into the cold, dark woods or whether you should grab some religious artifact and start fucking rebuking the black-cloaked being currently residing in your kitchen. There was, however, a decidedly more civil air to them versus your last encounter. No afterimages in the corners of your vision, barely any echo in your head from their voice.

“I uh…you’re not going to eat me?” You asked hesitantly. You could have sworn that tea set was not there a second ago.

They smirked. “Do you really think I would tell you? But no, if it makes you feel better, I’m not here to eat you. I’m not allowed to touch you, if you recall.” You cringed at the memory and you could have sworn Willow looked apologetic for a split second. It was gone just as quick, turned back into a neutral expression. “Sit down.” You stripped off your wet jacket and hung it beside the door, kicked off your boots and gingerly sat down across from Willow. They gestured up at the ceiling festooned with tinsel. “You have been keeping busy.”

You weren't sure why, but their tone struck you as almost...accusatory. White-blue eyes were narrowed at you. When the hell had doing what you wanted become something that would annoy some...well, whatever Willow was? “I'm sorry, why are you here?” You bristled in irritation. The day had been long and busy, you hadn't been looking forward to your lonely evening but if supernatural harassment was the alternative...

You weren't exactly Ebeneezer fucking Scrooge, and the creature across from you sure as hell wasn't Jacob Marley.

“I am here because I was told to be here.” Willow shrugged. “You have been calling me, you keep talking about not wanting to be alone on Christmas.”

“I did no such thi-”

“You do not have to say things out loud for me to hear them.” Willow interrupted your retort sharply. “Your thoughts pull me. I have no choice but to listen. To...obey, as I do with him.” You flinched at the indirect mention of Jeff and Willow cocked their head. “Ah. There is still something in your rib cage for him. You certainly do spend a lot of time adamantly not thinking about him. Which is still considered thinking about him, I should add.”

You stood up so suddenly your chair tipped over behind you. Willow had the grace to appear a little startled. “Get. Out.” You hissed after storming around the table and grabbing them by the front of their robe. “Get the hell out of my house.”

“You...are very like him, in a way.” Willow's smirk was back. “Alone, but bad at being alone. You scream for companionship in your mind but you say you do not want it with your mouth. How do you think he found me? Being the quiet child is such a lonely existence.”

“I don't...” Your grip slacked off and you took a deep breath. “I don't...I don't need anyone. I've been doing alright.”

Willow snorted. “So stubborn.”

“There's nothing I can do about it!” You burst out. “He left me, okay, freak show? Obviously I wasn't enough of a draw to get him to stick around just until I fucking woke up! Maybe he could have explained...maybe I could have...look, I've spent so much time thinking about this. You don't tell someone you care about them and then react favorably when they slink out on you the next morning, that's not how this crap works!”

“This plan has been in his mind for months. Meeting you changed nothing when it came to that. And yet, everything else has changed. He does not waste physically, but his own ribcage aches. His timing is, as always, impeccably terrible.” Willow's mouth twisted into a frown. “Not to mention his handwriting.”

A hysterical little snicker fought free at how indignant they sounded. You righted your chair and sat back down, putting your head in your hands. “I've been trying so hard. The first couple weeks, all I wanted to do was sit around and cry and feel sorry for myself.” You confessed through your fingers, not really sure why. “But I got up, I did. Every day. I got up and I went to work and I tried to forget that idiot and his stupid fucking brother and their stupid fucking fights and violins and...” You trailed off, swallowing back your tears.

“Nothing has worked. Your body is waning. Your mind is an absolute mess.” Willow's words were unflinchingly honest. “You are alone and it hurts you much more than you thought it would because you care for someone.”

“'Cared'. Past tense.” You corrected bitterly. “I'm done with that.”

“You are a terrible liar.”

“I don't remember asking, freak show.”

“Your empty ribcage misses him.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I was there, you know. I am always here and there, though we are separate sometimes.” Willow's tone was conversational as they refilled their teacup. “After you coupled like needy animals, he laid his head on your chest and told you he didn't want to forget. And you stroked his hair like he was a child, held him to your breast. He drank deeply from you and gave you every tiny bit of messy, haphazard emotion he could muster up in exchange for your comfort.” Willow paused, taking a sip from their cup. “He is not one to prattle. He believes in actions; your coupling was him saying what he could not bring himself to say.”

“P-Please stop, I...” You had lost your battle with tears but mercy seemed foreign to Willow.

“I watched him write his ridiculous letter, agonizing over what to say without speaking in that funny way that all humans do. It is an archaic form of communication, though it seems to encourage honesty.” They rolled their eyes. “Many problems of your kind could be solved by simply speaking to one another, but where is the poetry in that?” Willow cleared their throat, folding their gloved hands beside their teacup. “I am here because you called me. I am not here to scold. I am here to say what needs to be said before you do something that would be detrimental to your health.”

Your head snapped up and you glanced at the being across from you with a fair amount of trepidation.

Willow fixed you with a stern look. “Yes, I am aware. He has promised to return, so he will. And if only for my own entertainment, I expect you to meet him head on and make him regret leaving at all. Which you cannot do languishing away in your lonely castle with your precious vegetables.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do?” You asked plainly, wiping your nose on your sleeve.

“Care for yourself as you see fit. But...do it better.” Willow replied. “You must present a vengeful lioness, not a floundering gazelle.” They stood, and the tea set was abruptly gone. “I will take my leave, 'get back behind my line', as he would say. I have thoroughly enjoyed this visit. Even though I did not eat you.” Their tone was playful but still sent shivers down your spine. You got up from your chair by force of habit to open the door and Willow waved you off. “I saw myself in, I can see myself out. If anything happens, all you have to do is call. Oh.” They paused in the doorway, tugging on the corner of their mask as if they were doffing a cap. “And merry Christmas, Ebeneezer.”

…

It was mid-January when you started to show real signs of neglect. You personally had known for months but having actual proof was...it was difficult.

Vengeful lioness, my ass. You thought ruefully as you stood in front of your bedroom mirror, turning this way and that. It wasn't incredibly pronounced yet, but you knew it was only a matter of weeks before your weight would drop beyond hiding in baggy clothes. This was legitimately terrifying, all the negative emotions twisted up in a knot in your sternum. You couldn't help thinking of that Alien movie, where the creature burst out of the human's chest to the abject horror of the audience.

This wasn't science fiction, however. Granted, you had struggled with your weight before, but you had been much younger. It had been easier to bounce back then. Now you weren't so sure.

You sat down on the bed, staring at your hands for a while. What if he doesn't want me? Can I even do this on my own anymore? That was your biggest fear. If you tried to be careful for this whole time, tried to keep yourself healthy instead of giving in to the little voice that told you to stay in bed, told you that you weren't hungry, only to have Jeff react poorly...

“Never want to forget how you feel, never want to forget you, darlin'.”

You straightened up. He'd said over and over in his letter that he didn't want to forget. He'd said that he would come back. He didn't know about this side of me. He doesn't know anything about me. You frowned. Never mind what people around here will say if I start showing up to work looking like a fucking skeleton.

You got up and walked down the hallway to the kitchen. All this sitting around thinking wasn't doing you any good, not when there were seedlings to water, and you still needed to eat lunch. You stared out the window over the sink as you carefully spritzed the tiny plants in equally tiny trays. It was still cold and rainy out, but the fog was promising. The ground was warming up.

Spring.

One thing was for certain, once Jeff and his kin returned all hell was bound to break loose and you were not looking forward to it in the slightest.

…

March came and you walked on eggshells for half the month before deciding that it just wasn't fucking worth it. He would show up when he would (if he did at all) and no amount of tiptoeing or overthinking was going to change that.

You slipped into a sort of...resigned state. Not so much a depression this time, but a coming to terms with the fact that you were almost definitely on your own here. You knew you could be in much worse shape, yes, you forced yourself to eat most days but...it could always be worse.

Five and a half months, almost six. You devoured all the information you could get your hands on, the digital copy of The Year-Round Vegetable Gardener residing happily on your phone to be pulled up during lunch breaks or for cross-referencing with The Edible Garden. Not for the first time you mourned your lack of nearby relatives, as you had no one to really bounce garden ideas off of. No sage wisdom from aunts or uncles, no cautionary tales from grandparents. You really were alone here.

It was...crushing sometimes. The weight of loneliness back on you all of a sudden just because you'd cared, because you'd been lonely and you believed some pretty promises of never forgetting (admittedly, you still wanted to believe them). You tried not to think about it too much, though. Your bed had been made, you and Jeff fell into it and now, with or without him, you were carrying on. If anything, you were impressed with yourself, with how far you'd gotten even as entangled as you were in your habits. I can do this.

Every day you got out of bed was another day you succeeded in trying, every day you took your vitamins, ate some breakfast and did your stretches was another positive step forward. And every day it seemed to become easier to do. No hair falling out, no dental problems (yet, fingers crossed on that one).

You were determined to live for yourself and, more importantly, your garden, as March drew to a close. Seedlings had grown into tough little plants and you rose extra early on the second of April to start the process of getting everything in the ground.

You had a new pair of work gloves, gifted to you by Señor Benjamin once he noticed your drop in weight, the older man stating firmly that, “you shouldn't be playing around in the dirt without gloves, think of your health!” His protective tendencies were more kindly than belittling, and he always had so many questions about how are you doing, have you eaten today? when he came to visit the store. It was heartwarming and oftentimes those conversations were the highlight of your day.

You pulled on your high boots, tugged on your new gloves and brought a baseball cap outside for added protection. You'd heard that anemic or underfed people could get sunburned easier. You'd heard nearly everything at this point, you felt.

You were relatively comfortable. The weather wasn't too hot yet, the long-sleeved shirt you'd put on was over-sized enough to allow you to move freely and you'd rolled up the legs of your leggings to the knees. They'd been getting a lot of use these days, seeing as how they were one of the few pairs of pants you owned that would still fit decently on your thinner hips. You rubbed the chilled skin of your stomach beneath your shirt absently as you marked where you would put things in the garden on your layout.

You were so focused you didn't hear the whine of the drone until it was practically on top of you. You watched it go zipping over your garden and all your nerves came flooding back in a tidal wave of fear. Vengeful lioness, c'mon! You scolded yourself, slowly getting to your feet. You debated momentarily on just going inside, locking the door and hiding away for the next couple of...forever. You could definitely live in the dark by yourself. It was probably a lot simpler than all those horror films made it out to be, right? And you'd never go back outside, ever, especially if--

“Darlin'?” You squared your shoulders, hands clenching tight at your sides. Behind you, you heard Jeff clear his throat. “I...darlin', can you turn around?”

“Don't call me that.” Every ounce the angry predator. Willow must be thrilled.

“A-Alright. I won't. I'm sorry.” He apologized, sounding shaken. “God, I know you're pissed with me but it's good to hear your voice.” Jeff swallowed hard. “I told you when I came back I'd fuckin' scoop you up, hold you tight even if you hate me. I know I deserve ya' vitriol but I sure as shit don't deserve to touch you, an' I'm here now so hit me with whatever you've got. I ain't goin' anywhere.”

“Yeah? Well maybe I am.” You snapped, still not bothering to face him. You knew if you turned around you would probably start bawling. You pretended to be studying your layout chart. “What makes you feel so entitled to my time, Jeff? Last I checked, you're the one that left.”

“We had to put Decay in the ground for the final time. We had to go on...well, like I said, a pilgrimage. I had a lot of things to fuckin’ appease before I could fix Matt. But I did it, he and I both did it. He's whole again, whole as he was before. I don't have the guilt of almost destroying his family hangin' over my head like the sword a' Damocles, and I'm...Christ, I'm so sorry. Please, please turn around so I can talk to you.”

You shook your head. There was a dull 'thud' behind you that made you flinch.

“Please, I'm fuckin' beggin', I don't care if you holler at me until you're blue in the face and I'm deaf as a post, please d...please.” Jeff implored. “It took me two fuckin' seconds to realize that I was going to be miserable without you, watchin' Reb an' Matt with Maxel and just achin' on the inside because maybe, maybe if I hadn't been such a jackass in the first place and busted Matt's head I might have had the chance to be happy with you. But I ruined everythin' for myself by bein' an arrogant asshole, wreckin' Matt and I hurt you. I can't even tell which one is fuckin' worse.”

You clenched your hands even tighter around the sheet of paper you held, threatening to rip it. “You could have woken me up.” You said softly.

“I wouldn't have left then. I barely managed to when you were asleep. I kept askin' myself whether my happiness was worth Matt's family bein' fucked up forever and that would ground me but then I'd look back at you and I'd just...” Jeff's voice trembled. “I...It was the hardest fuckin' thing in the world to leave you, I promise that. But I had to do right by my brother.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“I-I can ask Reb or Matt to come over, you ain't gotta' take my word for it this time. Shit, I can even start from the beginning and explain everything, if you want to hear it.”

“Comforting.”

“Please, darlin', I--”

“I said, don't call me that!” You yelled, thoroughly fed up with the bullshit. You angrily turned on your heel, already in the process of gathering up more choice words to unleash.

Jeff was kneeling with his head bowed and his hands in his lap, looking like a man brought before the guillotine. Your words caught in your throat as you watched his shoulders shudder violently with near-silent sobs and mumbles of, “sorry, so fuckin' sorry”.

Vengeful lioness.

“Look at me, Jeff.” You demanded once you were sure your voice would stay steady.

He glanced up quickly, looked down, and then...slowly his head came back up, so slowly. You bit your lip as blue eyes full of tears mapped your face, as his mouth opened. “I--”

“Is it everything you'd ever fucking dreamed of?” You cut him off. “Everything you ever hoped for, Jeff?”

“I...don't understand.” Jeff said hesitantly.

“Get up and come over here.” You ordered. He bolted to his feet, almost tripping over himself in his haste to obey. He spread his arms for a hug but you shook your head, taking one of his hands by the wrist instead. You lowered it to your baggy shirt and...

Jeff flinched back after feeling the sharp jut of your hip through the fabric.

Well. That was definitely a less than favorable reaction.

His whole body had gone tight; you could feel the uneasy shift of tendons in his wrist before you dropped his hand. “Why?” He asked finally, and he had the gall to sound hurt.

Jeff was reeling almost before you even realized you'd punched him in the jaw, your knuckles and wrist alight with pain from the sudden blow. You were pretty sure you'd never been this outraged in your entire life. “You abandoned me, Hardy, what the fuck do you mean, ‘why'?!” You cried.

The look on his face directly after you'd decked him was priceless, but the look he sported now put it to shame. It was confusion, mixed with something that could definitely be described as sadness. You didn't get very long to admire your handiwork though as you found yourself embraced fiercely.

You squirmed in the tiny amount of room you had, doing your best to beat your fists against his chest. “I hate you! I hate you for leaving and I hate myself for letting this happen and I hate you for looking at me like that, I hate you!” You broke down crying even while you were still ranting about hating him, breath hitching as you sobbed into his shirt.

“Oh Jesus, oh fuckin' Jesus, no, shh.” Jeff didn't seem to notice your pitiful attempts to continue kicking his ass, cupping the back of your head and cradling you to his chest. “You're thin as a fuckin' rail, you're gonna' make yourself sick if you keep cryin', please, please.” He tried to calm you as best as he could, his own voice wavering. “I'm never leaving you again, hear me? I came over here to beg your forgiveness. I'm still beggin' but shit, let me take care of you. If not me, at least let Reb or Matt. Feel like you're goin' t' pieces in my arms.”

You shook your head, still furious. “Would s-serve you right if I d-did.” You hiccuped. All Jeff did was hold you even tighter and stroke your hair. “Serve you right if I just disappeared.”

“No, don’t say that kinda’ shit. I need you. Jesus, I need you like I ain’t never needed anybody else before. Let me help you.” Jeff pleaded, pressing his forehead to your own. “Let me help. I’ll get you healthy again in no time, I promise.” He took a deep breath. “Matt an’ Reb…they know I left you. They know and they know why I did it and Matt still threatened to kick my ass. He called me a coward, a liar, everythin’ under the sun. A total punkass for abandoning you after…after everything.”

You snorted, trying to pull away again.

“Reb said you’d be traumatized and that she was disappointed in me.” That got your attention. “I hadn’t thought about it beyond worrying if you would be sad or angry with me. You were so strong when you dealt with Matt and when you stood up to Rosemary, I-I assumed you wouldn’t really...uh…well, I figured you would just be angry and ready to kick my ass when I came back. I ain't never been the smarter Hardy.”

“You didn’t think I would get depressed and turn into a fucking skeleton, now did you?” You asked bitterly. “No, you were worried about me being 'sad' or 'angry'. At least, until Reby yelled at you. Funny how that works.”

“I’m an idiot. I’ve admitted that more times than I can count during the last few months. I’m an idiot and a terrible person for leavin’, I’m an idiot for hurtin’ my brother, I’m an idiot and a bastard for havin’ sex with you and telling you I didn’t want to forget you an’ then just. Hiein’ off to parts unfuckingknown with my shattered brother.” Jeff said quietly. “Knowing you cared about me, though…shit, sometimes that was the only thing that pulled me back up off the ground durin’ this whole thing. Knowing that you care, or at least you did before I left, an’ hoping you’d be waitin’ to kick the shit out of me for bein’ dumb enough to leave you when I came back. Fixing my brother via trial by combat ain’t the easiest shit I’ve done, but I wouldn’t change a thing about all the fights.” Jeff tapped the side of his head. “Now he and I are whole again. No more Brother Nero, no more deleting me or setting me on fire or kicking the shit outta’ each other.”

“What makes you think I care?”

“You’re still here in my arms, ain’t you?” You shoved against his chest as hard as you could and all it did was make him shift a step. “Jesus, please tell me you’re fuckin’ around.”

“I’ve lost a lot of weight in a relatively unhealthy fashion. Muscle mass kind of goes hand in hand with that.” You pointed out. You didn’t expect him to look so destroyed. “What?”

“You coulda’ died. Could have wasted away and fuckin’ died while I was off doing this. You’re so fucking strong and I almost killed you. Christ.” Jeff muttered, almost like he was talking to himself. “You threw hands at fuckin’ Rosemary like it wasn’t anything, like she wasn’t the bitch that spits acid and my dumb ass almost did you in. I…I’m so sorry I put you through this.” He cupped your face, turning it gently to the side. “Fuck, fuck, look at you.” Jeff wiped some of the tears off your cheek with his thumb. “Look at you, what the hell have I done to you?”

“Please stop. I know what I look like, Jeff.” You mumbled into his shirt. “I've been doing better. Señor Benjamin started checking up on me ever since I…well, I got all gaunt and I think I worried him. I’m sure he’s over there telling Matt and Reby that I haven’t been myself.” Jeff actually released you when you pulled away this time. “I haven’t had a problem with…this, for a while.” You said, painfully slow. “I used to much more often, when I was younger.”

“Issues with eatin’?” Jeff asked, sounding confused. “You…I mean I never noticed-”

“I have been actively trying to avoid this outcome, Jeff. Doing my best. I take my supplements and sometimes I can eat, but most of the time I just…I don’t want to.” You gestured at the dirt beneath your boots. “I grow my own food as a therapeutic process. I hate wasting food so I preserve stuff and eat good, pretty-colored things and it makes it a little easier. Winter is always hard.” You shrugged. “For me and the plants, I guess.”

“Y'know, I've had...um.” Jeff seemed uncomfortable, twisting his fingers back and forth nervously before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Problems, kinda' like this. Different reasons, but I used to drop weight like a brick and...I mean, I can help, Matt too, he was around when I was like that.” He looked like he was attempting to worry a hole through his lower lip.

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest as you saw Matt and Reby making their way through the woods behind him. Maxel had grown so much since you’d last seen him, a bona-fide toddler now walking along with almost sure steps.

Matt waved to you, smiling broadly once he got close enough. “Hello! I…” Matt began, then paused, glancing at Jeff. “Can I have a minute alone with them?”

Jeff wordlessly retreated to where Reby waited at the edge of the woods, his shoulders slumped.

When Matt spoke again he kept his voice deliberately low. “We haven’t met while I was in my right mind. But I remember you. And I remember what you did for my family.” He sounded so normal it threw you for a loop. No strange accent or medieval-sounding words. “Jeff made the mistake of mentioning to us how he…left you. He did everything for my sake but as usual, he has all the the delicacy of a bull in a fucking china shop.” Matt met your eyes, but only just. “You…I imagine it was difficult. I’m sorry.”

“I've definitely been better.” You replied, raising an eyebrow. “You seem healthy as a horse.”

“Yes, thanks to my little brother. He...it was so hard on him, on my family. I don't remember some of the things I did, and Jeff doesn't appear interested in telling me.” Matt grimaced. “Regardless of what he did, the pieces I can remember don't exactly paint me in a good light.”

You shifted uncomfortably. Why on earth was he telling you all of this? You would give anything to just go back to your plants.

“I...I speak to you today as a total stranger. And I have to ask something of you. There is a final process to solidify my recovery.” Matt said hesitantly. “A sort of new beginning ritual, if you will. Reby and I were hoping...I mean, after all you've done for us, we know it's pretty audacious of us to ask anything of you but we were hoping we could convince you to be the Hardy's guest of honor at the ceremony tonight.”

You blinked up at the man, confused. “You...what, you guys having another bonfire or something?”

“A little more elaborate than that, but the concept seems about right. We have talked on it for a while and both Rebecca and I agree that no one is better suited for this than the one who had nothing and nearly gave everything, who kept House Hardy from falling that dark night.” Matt's face grew sad. “I am sorry we could not be present during this hard stretch that you've had.”

You waved off his concern. “I did this to myself. I'm better now.”

“Will you do us this honor, then? It will be a more...formal gathering. Rebecca has offered to style your hair, if you would like.” He gestured toward his wife, who waved and smiled.

“Oh, gosh, I...um...I don't have anything to wear, really. I've never dealt with anything too formal.” Your whole face went pink with embarrassment. “You have to understand, I don't want to make you guys look bad if this is a big deal.”

“Please, don't even worry about it. The honor of your presence is more than enough, trust me.” Matt seemed overjoyed when you finally nodded, calling Reby over with Maxel. Jeff stayed put at the edge of the woods, appearing to busy himself watching Vanguard One weave through the tree trunks.

You only realized you were staring when Reby gently put a hand on your shoulder. Maxel cooed and wiggled from his spot balanced on her hip. “Did he at least apologize?” Reby asked quietly. Matt looked over at his wife, confused at the change of subject.

You nodded, feeling melancholy close up your throat. “I punched him.” You managed to admit.

Matt, to your surprise, absolutely roared with laughter, barely stopping himself from slapping you on the back. “Holy shit, you did not! That’s amazing.”

“He asked me why I looked like this! I just…I don’t know, I lashed out. It was stupid of me.” You mumbled. “It’s been a long time. I…obviously I still care about him even if I don’t want to. I wouldn’t have walloped him in the jaw if I didn’t care, y’know?”

Reby gave Matt a look over Maxel’s head and then shifted the baby to her other hip. Maxel quieted down, eyes studying your face with that customary ‘young child’ seriousness. You smiled at him, offering a little wave. The boy thrashed, starting to put up a fuss and Reby let him stand on his own.

Maxel was off like a shot, staggering steps across the uneven terrain of your yet-to-be-planted garden. “Matt, make sure he doesn’t get into anything he shouldn’t.” Reby ordered. Matt grumbled but headed after his son, quickly hoisting the little boy up into the air. You watched him go, watched him interact with the protesting Maxel and you felt…you weren’t sure what it was. Your eyes burned with tears and you quickly looked away from Matt and Maxel.

Reby caught your chin before you could stare at the ground, her own eyes kind and knowing. “Jeff will be at tonight’s ceremony, of course. He’s a big part of it. I understand, obviously better than Matt does, that being around him may be painful. You don’t have to come if it will be too much for you.” She said quietly over the airplane noises Matt was making. “I understand that it’s selfish to ask you to deal with anything else.”

“I…I just don’t really have anything to wear. What if I look silly or embarrass you guys?” You asked, staunchly avoiding looking at Jeff.

Reby smiled a little differently this time. Vengeful lioness. “Leave that up to me, sweetheart.”

…

You weren't sure how to feel as Reby zipped up the back of your lone black dress. “I really want to cry but you spent so much time making my face look good.” You whispered, making her laugh.

“Why do you want to cry? You look amazing!”

And it was true, you looked incredible. You barely recognized yourself. Reby was obviously a master of her craft. “I don't think I've ever liked my face or hair this much.” You replied honestly.

Reby shook her head. “You have a wonderful face and beautiful hair. You're so silly.” She said, patting your cheek carefully. She seemed a little worried as she gave you a once-over, tugging your dress so it sat better on your shoulders. “How do you feel? Will you be warm enough in this? You can still say no, you know.”

“I...I want to go.” You said determinedly. “I mean, I'm scared I'll flub something but if you guys want me there-”

“Of course we do! After everything that you did?” Reby made a noise of disbelief. “You go wait in the living room with the boys, alright? Tell them I'll be right there. Just have to fix my contours.”

You nodded, leaving after glancing at yourself in the mirror one last time. As you moved to the stairs you could already hear Matt talking to Jeff in the living room.

“...another painting, like the one you did for my bedroom. But it's got to be big enough to hang over the mantel. Rebecca loved the theme so if you want you can just continue it.”

“Whatever you want, Matt. I...shit, I'm just happy you're back.” Jeff's voice was quieter and you paused at the top of the stairs, straining to hear. “I can't say it hasn't been rough. I would understand if Reb wanted to annihilate me.”

“She knew it was an accident, Jeff. And I assume you managed to convince her you'd go through hell or high water to fix me.” Matt joked. “I...hey, hey, easy. It's alright, c'mere.”

You heard a shuddering sob and you closed your eyes tightly, inhaling through your nose.

“Christ little bro, don't go to pieces on me just yet, okay?” Matt sounded somewhat choked-up himself.

“I ruined e-everythin', Matt, everything, they hate me and I just-”

“No way. You quit this self-pity shit, Jeff. You're stronger than that, knock it off.”

You felt that you'd eavesdropped long enough and proceeded to head down the stairs as loudly as you could to alert the two men of your presence. Maxel made a surprise appearance at the doorway of the living room, staring up at you. He looked very dapper in a bright purple shirt with a soft green vest over it, and you made sure to tell him as much when you knelt down to his level. The little boy was obviously still a bit wary of you, teetering momentarily before pulling a one-eighty turn and heading back to where his father and uncle stood beside the mantel.

“Maxel! Don't be rude, when a lovely individual compliments you on your vest, normally, as a gentleman, you say thank you!” Matt scolded, turning his son back around. Maxel waved his arms in the air, giggling at the new game Matt was apparently playing. Matt sighed, shrugging at you. “Well, I tried.” He continued to spin Maxel, slow enough that he could keep his footing. “You do look great. I guess that dress you had was just fine, huh?”

“That and all the manual labor Reby put in as far as my face goes.” You said, laughing when Matt gestured with his free hand for you to spin as well.

“Show off for us, huh?”

Suddenly feeling shy, you couldn't help the way you glanced at Jeff. The other man seemed to be in a staring contest with the mantel and you fumbled to smooth out the skirt of your dress again. “The both of you look very...” You squinted, trying to smile.

“Professional, right?” Matt winked.

“Yeah, that's what I was going to say.” Definitely not weird. Matt was wearing that familiar gray and black velvet coat with a matching pair of pants, his hair semi-tamed in a bun, while Jeff was clad in loose black pants paired with an almost skintight black long-sleeved shirt that bore strange, twining patterns on the sleeves. A white rag spattered with vibrant paint hung out of the younger brother's back pocket, but it looked less like an actual cleaning implement and more like an accessory.

You caught Jeff's eyes when he finally looked up, tilting your head to the side. “What do you think, Jeff?” You knew it was cruel but you couldn't help wanting to make him squirm, even if just a tiny bit. Vengeful lioness.

Jeff looked torn, the mumbled, “You're beautiful,” a little too heartfelt for you to feel comfortable with continuing to tease him. So you obliged with the requested turn, biting your lip. Beautiful.

“He's right, you really do look fantastic.” Matt agreed, raising his eyes to rest on something behind you. “And there is my Queen Rebecca.”

“I don't know about this dress, Matt, I--”

Matt silenced his wife's concerns with a peck on the mouth. “You are ravishing as always, my love. Never worry about that. You could wear a burlap sack and put everyone to shame as far as I'm concerned.” He smiled, pressing his forehead to hers. Maxel hugged her leg, bouncing up and down.

Jeff glanced at you and you held his gaze, raising an eyebrow. He looked like he was about to say something and then Matt raised his arm to rest it on his shoulder. Jeff flinched, gritting his teeth for a split second. You watched his shoulders relax back down after a minute, as though he had been waiting for Matt to...do something.

'Matt would never lay a hand on Maxel or Reb!'

Yeah let's avoid that train of thought. You frowned at yourself.

“Alright, are we all set? I have his backpack right here so I wouldn't forget it this time.” Matt said finally, hefting the overstuffed, brightly-colored pack from its spot on the floor. He scooped Maxel up as well, his son continuing to bounce even once he was in Matt's arms.

Jeff didn't seem able to hide his smile, reaching out so Maxel could grab his hand and shake it back and forth. “Look at you go, little guy!” He grinned, making Maxel babble happily. “Almost as excited as Daddy and I, huh?”

“This will be a night to remember.” Matt agreed, gesturing to draw you close. “We must ask for a blessing before the travel. A custom, you understand.” He explained. Reby straightened out the shoulders of your dress again as Matt bowed his head, placing his hand on the top of Maxel's head. “Seven Deities, we call upon you yet again. Your loyal servants embark on a new journey and we implore you grant us your protection and strength.” Matt intoned. “I am no longer your vessel, no longer empowered as such and so I must beg a boon. Astarr, Brohare! Chall, Cohle, Gustavo! Neric, Sirko!”

He paused and Jeff proceeded smoothly, “We had ended, and now we begin again. The sun has set on one life, we beg for the sun to rise on the next. Grant us the courage we need, the will to continue, keep the ones we love safe and keep our bodies whole.” He also laid his hand on Maxel's head, over Matt's. “Protect this little one, he is our flesh and blood. Protect Rebecca, the queen of Matt's life. Protect Matthew, my brother, the master of his own destiny.” Jeff hesitated. “Protect...protect our neighbor, they have been through so much at our hands.”

“Seven Deities, I beg that you protect Jeffrey, my brother. Make us as one, and grant us victory tonight.” Matt dragged Jeff in to touch their foreheads together. “No longer master and slave, but brothers once more.”

A shiver ran through you at their words. This...didn't sound like theatrics. You wondered wildly for a moment if you were invited along because they needed a human sacrifice or something like that, but you just as quickly dismissed the notion. You'd heard elaborate prayers before. Pontificating relatives at funerals, weepy well-wishes after one too many drinks. But this...it just seemed so much more heartfelt, compared to everything else you had experienced.

Reby squeezed your hand, smiling at you. “Ready?”

“As ready as I'll ever be.” You replied, trying your best to smile back.

You didn't expect for Matt to open the front door and grab onto one side of his patiently-waiting drone.

You narrowed your eyes, debating (not for the first time) whether you were the only person here with a decently firm grasp on reality. “What the everloving shit.”

A laugh burst out of Jeff. He'd obviously been waiting for your reaction. “I promise, it ain't as dumb as it looks. Just latch on.” He said once he had himself back under control, reaching for your hand. Fingers curled gingerly around your own and he placed your hand on the drone, nodding to Matt once he did. “We're good. You uh, you might want to close your eyes.” Jeff added to you. “Can be a little much.”

Yeah this doesn't seem crazy at all. You obeyed almost instantly, resigned to the eventuality that when you opened your eyes you were going to be in your bed, staring up at the ceiling as your alarm chimed in your ear.

There was a momentary absence of noise, around four seconds. Enough that you noticed. Then sound swelled back up, louder than you expected. It sounded almost like...cheering, but muffled and distant.

Beside you, you heard Jeff inhale and his whole body shuddered. “Christ, Matt.”

“I know, it's absolutely exhilarating. Vanguard my friend, we'll need a lift after the ceremony but until then, feel free to see the sights.”

You cautiously opened your eyes and you were greeted with the sight of a cramped hallway as the white drone zipped away. Well. This was...not what you'd been expecting on at least two fronts. “Where are we?” You asked, feeling almost like you should be annoyed with the fact that Jeff hadn't let go of your hand yet.

“The ceremony, of course! From the sound of things though, we may be a bit early. C'mon, let's find the curtain.” Matt urged, leading your ragtag group along.

I feel like two years ago, teleportation would have been more...inaccessible? Exciting? Both? You mused, grudgingly allowing Jeff to guide you while you thought.

“Ah, security! Yes it's us, of course it's us. Where do we need to queue up, I assume we're not late just yet?” Matt was speaking with a man in a black polo shirt, who nodded and gave him directions to 'gorilla position', which you assumed must have been some kind of code. Unless this was a zoo?

You had so many questions, so you finally ended up pulling your hand out of Jeff's grip. The man stopped immediately, turning around and cocking his head. Matt and Reby continued on, oblivious to the fact that they were a party of three now instead of five. “What the heck is going on, Jeff?” You whispered. “What is this place, this ceremony that's supposed to happen?”

Jeff looked absolutely ecstatic, his smile pure excitement like a small child's. “It's gonna' be great, I promise dar...I promise. It's kinda' a surprise though. Can you trust me for a little while longer?” He asked hopefully. You crossed your arms over your chest and Jeff's smile faded. “I...shit, I don't know what to do here. Th-that dress is amazin'. You in it is also amazin'. You're...you're seriously the most beautiful person I ever come across, havin' you here for this is surreal and I just--” Jeff shrugged. “Sorry, I'll shut up. M' sorry. We're almost to the right point anyhow. You'll see what's up in a minute. Promise.”

“I mean I'm not against you continuing to talk about how great I am, if you're waxing poetic.”

Jeff's grin bordered on blinding. “Is...are you jokin' with me? Was that a joke? It was, yeah?!”

“Maybe.” You answered reluctantly. “Look, Jeff, I won't sugarcoat this crap. You hurt me. You hurt me a lot by leaving, I know you at least understand that much. So I don't know if we can ever be...what you might still want. What I wanted. But...yeah, I was joking with you.”

“S' more than I deserve. A thousan' times more than what I deserve. I...thank you.” Jeff said sincerely. He held out his hand. “May I?”

You looked at him for a moment. Looked down at his hand, then back up at his face. “I guess. As long as you keep talking about how good I look.”

His fingers twined through your own, roots into the dirt. “Gladly.”

…

All the training in the world couldn't have prepared you for what greeted you on the other side of the curtain.

It was like a Colosseum of old, high walls stretching to the darkening sky, absolutely packed with people. Your eyes widened and then Jeff released your hand. The thunderous roar of the crowd threatened to deafen you, but even with that distraction you couldn't tear your gaze away from Jeff.

Bass rhythm thrummed through your whole body and the dance he started into was almost ridiculous. You got the feeling that no one else would be able to pull it off, the gyrations of his hips and the way his teeth were bared in a fierce grin changing it from strange to absolutely warlike. Matt spread his arms wide in greeting and the arena chanted something in reply, it sounded like DELETE, it sounded like HARDY, it sounded like WELCOME BACK.

A tiny hand grabbed at your own and you looked down at Maxel. The little boy didn't seem to have any issues with the sound and you wondered at that for a second before letting yourself be pulled along by the smallest Hardy. Reby had his other hand, looking every ounce the regal queen in her shimmering black gown, even with the small neon pack slung over one shoulder. The ramp down to the floor of the arena looked like it stretched for eons, but before you knew it you had reached the base, where some kind of fighting ring had been set up. Jeff boldly took your hand again, leading you to sit beside Reby. He chucked Maxel under the chin, smiled at you one last time and then moved to follow his brother.

Numerous individuals who appeared just as...colorful as Jeff and Matt were already in the roped-off ring, all of them bearing nearly-identical expressions of awe and confusion. You were more confused about the ladders, to be honest, why were there ladders? Was this going to be an actual fight? Jeff and Matt had said nothing about a fight, just a ceremony.

“Fixing my brother via trial by combat ain’t the easiest shit I’ve done, but I wouldn’t change a thing about all the fights.” Trial by combat. A new beginning ritual. “Grant us victory tonight.”

Your eyes widened as everything clicked, as Matt stripped off his coat and climbed into the ring beside his brother to the joy of the very vocal crowd. They faced off across from the other individuals in the ring, Matt making a sharp, slashing motion with his hand that ignited more calls of DELETE. It looked like Matt said, “delightful!” though you couldn't exactly hear him over the chants of THIS IS AWESOME. Jeff took up the motion, rotating in a circle so he could observe the whole arena.

You had no idea what was about to happen but you got the feeling it wasn't going to be pretty.

The enthusiasm Matt and Jeff had was electric, the crowd screaming their approval for the two men as they fought against an incredibly tall man and his lightning-fast partner, a dynamic duo of shaven-headed individuals, the strongest looking ginger you'd ever seen and a man with athletic tape wrapped around his shoulder. The goal seemed to be the two ornate belts which hung in the air a dizzying height above the ring. Set up your ladder, climb it, grab the belts. Not nearly as simple as it sounded, especially when contending with six other men.

You were on the edge of your seat as they went back and forth. The usage of ladders was breathtaking, death defying stunts performed right in front of you! You could hardly believe what you were watching. Jeff fought with his teeth bared in that furious grin and Matt couldn't seem to stop smiling himself, the two working as a seamless team even in the face of such adversity.

It all came down to a tense moment with Jeff balanced precariously at the very top of a twenty-foot-tall ladder, his arms spread wide. He touched his fingers to his lips and blew you a kiss, mouthed what looked like, “and in this moment”, then proceeded to somersault in an effortlessly graceful manner onto the large ginger and the man with the taped shoulder, sending the three of them crashing through the ladders they'd been laying on.

You felt like everything ground to a halt as Jeff laid there motionless in a heap of twisted metal and bodies. Your mind flew back to when you had found him on the lawn, doubled over and perforated by Abyss, when he came up out of the water deleted and docile in exchange for healing his body.

You pressed your hands to your mouth, barely realizing that Matt had unbuckled the belts from their lofty perch and now held them over his head, basking in the glory of their victory. Jeff finally, finally stirred, shaking his head and opening his eyes. He blinked, looking rattled, before that smile was back and he was pulling himself to his feet, doing his best to stagger back into the ring to celebrate with his brother.

Matt grabbed his arm and tugged him upright, handing him one of the belts and then pressing their foreheads together. They wore identical grins, Jeff closing his eyes and hugging his brother tightly when Matt said something to him.

They stood shoulder to shoulder and held up their belts while the arena indicated its raucous glee in the outcome of the match, a constant roll of DELETE and BRO-THER NE-RO and BRO-KEN MATT keeping the deafening volume at full capacity. Reby seemed just as excited as you were, hoisting Maxel high so he could see his father and uncle standing tall.

It is done, vengeful lioness.

You had no idea where the certainty came from, but it was ironclad and left no room for doubt. You clapped for Matt and Jeff, even managing to muster up a smile when Jeff looked your way.

His eyes flickered for a second, shifting to Willow's white-blue, and they winked cheekily at you from Jeff's body before he shook his head again and looked confused.

It seemed like everyone knew your neighbors. Then again, the arena looked like everyone had been invited to witness their ceremony so it wasn't exactly surprising. Matt gathered his wife and son up in a tight hug once he stepped out of the ring while Jeff hobbled to stand awkwardly beside you. You twiddled your fingers and peeped over at him, catching him in the process of looking away.

“So uh...I think it was a success.” He began. You could hardly believe that after all that, he was going to try and make small talk as his brother and sister-in-law celebrated with a family hug. You were glad that he wasn't expecting anything from you, but he'd pulled off something that seemed unthinkable. “Should be fine now.” He rubbed the side of his head, wincing. “Got a pounder starting but--”

You couldn't take any more of his nervous chit-chat, wrapping your arms around his waist to hug him as tight as you could (hopefully) without hurting him. Jeff sucked in a breath, seeming startled. You stayed put and after a moment, his hand slowly stroked over your hair.

“Thank you for coming, darlin'. It helps if I got someone t' show off for.” His face didn't mirror his cocky words when you chanced a glance up and your heart twisted in your chest. He looked like he was about to start crying. He draped the ornate belt over your shoulder, mustering up a weak smile. “Looks better on you anyhow.”

“You're ridiculous.” Your fingers mapped the designs tooled into the leather, smoothed over the raised metal plates.

“No denyin' that.” Jeff agreed, his hand moving to cover your own on the belt. “Absolutely no denying that.”

You couldn't even believe the day you'd had. You woke up in the morning and everything was normal. Same hard time eating breakfast, same tall boots by the door, same tilled patch of dirt outside.

But now here you were, apparently in Florida, rubbing elbows with a family that you hadn't been sure you'd ever see again, a guest of honor at their most important trial by combat. Jeff's fingers were wrapped loosely around your own as he, Reby and Matt talked excitedly with three young men wearing matching outfits. You lost track of how many people you met, how many people you were introduced to as, “the hero of House Hardy.” You leaned carefully into Jeff's side, surprised when he dropped an arm over your shoulders and pulled you up tight against him. An absent-minded kiss was pressed to the top of your head.

You closed your eyes and sighed quietly.

…

Jeff lingered on your doorstep when he walked you home much later that night, his hands firmly shoved into his pockets. “I uh...I just wanted to thank you. Y'know, again. For um. For comin' out with us tonight.” He mumbled, scuffing the toe of his shoe on the ground. “You didn't have to, nobody knows better n' me that you didn't have to.”

“Jeff, I'm glad I went.” You said gently.

His head jerked up and he fixed you with a startled look. “You...you are?”

“It was quite the spectacle. You and Matt are an impressive team.”

“We been workin' together most of our lives, I sure as hell hope so.” Jeff grinned. His smile faded after a minute, replaced by something more serious. “Listen, I meant what I said earlier about the um...the weight stuff. If you want I could ask Matt, or you could talk with him. A lot of times when I would start t' plummet I wouldn't be in my right mind so I don't recall a lot of it.” He admitted. You nodded, wondering to yourself what had gone on in their household. “Well uh, I know Matt an' I will be gone tomorrow night but after that we should be home sporadically. I...anytime you wanna' drop in just to see Reb and Maxel she'll probably welcome you with open arms.” He said quietly.

“I'll keep that in mind, thank you.” You replied.

Jeff huffed out a nervous breath and then bowed deeply, one hand resting in the small of his back like he was some kind of dandy. You couldn't keep from giggling and that seemed to make him happy, if the smile he gave you was any indicator. “Have a good night, okay?”

You were reminded of an evening last year when you closed the door behind you and slid to sit on the floor. You didn't want to cry, not exactly, but your chest ached in a way that suggested you might whether you wanted to or not.

You weren't sure how long you sat there before you finally got to your feet and headed to your bedroom. You checked your phone, both disappointed and relieved to see that you had no messages. On a whim, you scrolled back through your photos. You wanted to find the picture you’d taken, the one Jeff said was of him when he was very young.

But upon reaching where it should be in the gallery, something else had taken its place. Your brow furrowed in confusion, trying to figure out what the picture even was. It was dark, a large mass of orange flames licking in from the left-

It’s what I had originally taken a picture of! The burning structure with Jeff at the bottom of it! You realized. And if the picture was back to the way it should be, that must mean…

Everything is in order.

After you tucked yourself in for the night, you stared up at the ceiling. Through the screen in your window you could hear the nighttime sounds of the woods around you and you found your eyes slowly drifting shut.

A violin’s haunting melody wound into your dreams so faint you might have imagined it, accompanied by even softer strains of gentle piano. You didn’t know how you knew it was Matt and Reby, but you were soothed all the same.

…

Jeff seemed hell-bent on popping in to check on you whenever he could, the now-familiar sound of his dirtbike skidding to a halt your usual soundtrack when you were out in your garden. Sometimes it was only a brief greeting, and then sometimes he stayed and helped with whatever you were doing. He made a concerted effort to inform you of when he would be leaving and when he’d be back. He and Matt apparently had to work to keep their belts from the grueling ceremony.

Matt and Reby made it a point now to find you when you were at work just to say hello. Señor Benjamin occasionally accompanied them to get your opinion on various garden ideas he had. It appeared Matt had been serious when he’d suggested he wanted to start a garden of his own and you did your best to pass along your knowledge.

Eating didn’t seem like as much of a chore anymore, as more often than not you were invited to Matt’s house for supper. It was easier when people distracted you from the fact that you were actually eating, Matt quieting the nagging doubts that you were eating too much by declaring that you looked like you needed more green beans.

You were surprised the first time he and Reby displayed their musical talents after dinner, but even more surprised when Jeff hesitantly took the guitar his brother gestured to and added his own melody to their tune. Maxel seemed to love dancing to the music his parents and uncle made, no matter what the cadence or subject matter, and you found yourself the little boy’s official dance partner on more than one occasion. He had finally overcome his wariness around you, commonly demanding to be picked up with a firm, “Uppy!”

The nights would usually end with Maxel sound asleep on your shoulder, thoroughly exhausted from his workout. More than once the feeling of his tiny face burrowing into your shirt clenched your chest tight, and you’d have to take a few deep breaths to keep from doing something embarrassing.

Sometimes you caught Jeff staring at you and his nephew when the two of you interacted, the expression on his face usually a cross between pained and wistful. You wondered whether he felt the same way you did, whether his chest tightened with unimaginable longing.

Or if he ever woke up out of a sound sleep in a feverish state, your name on his lips, whole body flushed.

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but a small part of you (which grew larger every day) hoped for it.

...

“Why do you always look at Maxel and I like that?” You asked out of the blue.

Jeff froze mid-motion, hands cupped around the base of a squat, look-I’m-doing-my-best cucumber vine. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He finally replied, brushing his hands off on his jeans and then getting to his feet. “I have to…I think I heard Matt calling me.”

“How old are you?”

Jeff snickered, crouching back down beside you. “Old habits, you know. I uh, I don’t really know why I do, to be honest.” He said quietly, shifting a handful of dirt back and forth between his fingers. “It…I guess it kinda’ makes me sad. But not in a bad way? I don’t--shit, I’m explainin’ this poorly.” He sighed, plucking a small rock out of the dirt in his hands. “Makes me think about what I coulda’ had, if I wasn’t so dumb. I ain’t…I don’t mean I’m jealous a’ Matt or something, I know I got nobody to blame but myself here. It’s just…shit, seein’ you with a little kid makes me all fucked up in the feelings.” Jeff fumbled to explain. “Makes me wonder what’s gonna’ happen when somebody good comes along, treats you right an’ you have kids and they’ll be awesome like you and I…” Jeff’s voice petered out, the tattooed man swallowing hard and staring at the dirt.

You reached out after a second, taking one of his hands in your own.

“Christ, I’m so sorry, I made this all kinds of fucked. You must think I’m a creep.” Jeff whispered. “Gettin’ all wound up over you with another guy’s kid in your arms, with my brother’s kid in your arms. What kinda’ asshole am I, huh?” He tried to joke, ducking his head. You caught his chin, tugging it back up and making him look at you. Jeff chewed his bottom lip, doing his damnedest to avoid your eyes. “I…I’m so sorry I left the way I did. I’m sorry I ruined everythin’ and I’m sorry I’m all hung up on it.” He apologized, his words choked. He shook free of your grasp, getting to his feet again. “I’m just…I’ll go, don’t need to wreck your day with this stupid, self-pityin’ crap.”

You stayed kneeling in the dirt after he headed off, the rumble of his bike fading into the distance. Your mind was a mess of emotions. The part of you that seemed to be winning wanted to head after Jeff because if he was saying what you thought he was saying, you were essentially on the same page.

Who’s to say he won’t leave again, once he gets what he wants?

You felt a bit more certain when you scoffed at that nasty little voice, the same one that chided you for being too enthusiastic about gardening and tried to get you to stay in bed on hard days. You stood, giving yourself a bracing shake before straightening out your shirt and heading for the trail. His house was separated from yours by a thick belt of trees and a crumbling stone wall that had been all but swallowed up by the woods. Jeff’s constant back and forth trips on his dirtbike had worn a smooth path into the forest floor and it was this path that you followed until you emerged onto his property.

Jeff was just heading inside as you made your way across his…creatively trimmed lawn. “Jeff, wait! I need to talk to you!” You called.

He paused, the front door half-open. “Kinda’ not a great time right now.” He replied, but he didn’t close the door.

“I’ll be quick. Probably.” You were at the porch now and he still had the door open. “Look, all that stuff that you were saying--”

“Hey, it’s not a big deal. I know I wrecked shit with you. I just…I mean you asked, I figured you at least deserved the truth, y’know?” Jeff shrugged as though he was trying to brush it off. “It’s okay.”

“It’s really not, and I think you know it.”

He made a noise like he’d been punched in the stomach.

“I mean really, Jeff, you can’t just drop that kind of bomb on me and then go sashaying back to your house for tea and fucking biscuits.” You folded your arms, doing your best to look severe. “Especially when you didn’t even give me a chance to respond.”

“Christ, I wish I’d never opened my fuckin’ mouth. Because this is the part where I lose you for good, ain’t it?” Jeff asked bleakly. “Where you go ‘wow Jeff, that’s fucked up!’ an’ you never talk t’ me again. And I never see you, and you fuckin’ tuck yourself away and stop eating and then one day--”

“You have quite the imagination.” You interrupted him, raising an eyebrow at his rambling. “But no, that’s not what I had in mind.”

“Well…what then?” Jeff seemed at a loss, opening the door a little bit more.

“May I come in?”

“Shit, uh, of course. I’m sorry, wasn’t tryin’ to be rude.” He opened the door fully and you maneuvered past him.

“Did you make all of these yourself?” You asked, distracted by the bright, abstract artwork hanging in the entryway.

“I…yeah. I paint a lot.” He sounded embarrassed. “I’ve always done it. Just kinda’…I like it.”

“Does Matt paint? Or just you?”

“Nah, I got the artsy genes. He got the smarts. And I can play guitar, sing.” Jeff grimaced. “Lot a’ good it does me.”

“You’re talented, Jeff. I mean, I’m no artist so I can’t exactly critique. But you’ve obviously put a lot of your time into this.” You gestured around you.

Jeff flushed at the praise, twiddling his fingers. “Matt always said I could do more. Open a gallery or somethin’. I…wait shit, you ain’t here for this. What am I gonna’ do about you?” He asked plaintively, shaking his head. “I said some heavy shit. So what’s your take on it?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” You said softly. “There was more than enough of that between us. You’ve been very respectful about not pushing me even though we were intimate before, which is a refreshing change when it comes to my relationships. You also didn’t pass judgment on me for my…problem. I would say I’m sorry for punching you, though in my defense I was in a fragile emotional state.”

“I’m still waiting for the ‘but’.” Jeff’s smile was sad.

You took a deep breath. “There isn't one.” You smiled up at him, taking his hands in your own. “I think...I mean, if you're interested I would like to try again. If you're not interested, that's fine too. I like spending time with you either way.”

“I swear to God if I wake up right now, I...” He paused and stared down at your hands, his hands. “This is real, yeah? You'd tell me if you were a hallucination, right?” He demanded, making you snicker.

“Oh, definitely. No hallucinations here.” You replied.

Jeff tore his hands out of your grip and jerked you into a tight hug, cupping the back of your head as he held you close. “Fuck.” The single, breathless swear zipped like lightning across your skin and you trembled in his arms. “I've missed you so much, darlin'.”

“I missed you too, Jeff.” The knot in your chest, all the negative feelings you'd bundled up, slowly started to ease. He kissed you hungrily and you eagerly returned it, your hands sliding down to tug his hips into your own.

Jeff moaned into your mouth when you moved your hips, finally breaking the kiss. “Christ, like I was made for you.” He panted, glancing down. “You remember.”

“Mmm, yeah.” You breathed, watching as he rocked his pelvis up. “I'm not as thin as I used to be.” You didn't know why you said that, of all things. Talk about a mood breaker, what the hell were you thinking? It's true though, what if he's disgusted by how big I am now?

Jeff suddenly looked worried, hands raising to cup your face. “Hey, I ain't got a problem with you as long as you're in my arms. No matter what size you are, got it?” He said seriously, his eyes searching your own. “You're beautiful. No ifs, ands or buts, an' anyone who says otherwise, includin' the jerky voice I'm assuming is loud in your ears right now, tellin' you that you ain't hot stuff, can get fucked.” He growled, his voice deepening on the last word. “Now, I'd like to continue never forgetting you, and showing you just how pretty I know you are, and explainin' how much I need you. If uh, if you're amenable.”

You weren't able to keep from smiling, nodding eagerly and dashing away the few tears that had managed to sneak out. “Well, you know me, Jeff. I'm never against you continuing to talk about how great I am.” You teased, making him laugh.

He hoisted you up to sit on his hips, peppering your neck with light, playful kisses as he moved down the hall. “Missed you. Missed this too, but Christ, did I miss you.” He said softly, disentangling the two of you so he could open the door to what you correctly assumed was his room. It also seemed to double as his studio; there was an easel with a half-finished canvas on it set up by the window. “Come lay down with me, huh?” His words were gentle, followed by a grateful sigh when you took his hand and led him to the bed.

“On your back.” You ordered, loving how his eyes widened slightly. “Shirt off.”

“Jesus Christ that's hot. Will fucking do.” Jeff almost lost his footing trying to get out of his shirt when his knees bumped the end of his bed. “Shit, shit shit hang on.”

“How do you manage to be the most graceful thing I've ever seen at the top of a ladder, but when it comes to good ol' terra firma you're like a newborn giraffe?” You asked, making him snort with laughter even while he was still fighting with his shirt.

“Listen, you make me all gangly. I don't know if it's appealing or not but it's the truth.” Jeff protested. “I am a fuckin' Swanton master until you come along an' make me forget how to walk right.” He laid down, finally divested of his shirt, and made a grabbing motion at you. “Luckily, now I'm on my back and I don't have to worry about walkin' down here.”

You shook your head, moving quickly to straddle him. Jeff looked startled but seemed to get over it, judging from the needy, begging whimpers of “darlin'” that were only half-caught in his throat. His hands dug into your hips and you felt the swell of his cock pressing up against you through layers of clothing.

“Never thought this would happen again.” He murmured, carding his fingers through your hair while you kissed his neck and collarbone. “It's a goddamn miracle that you're even here right now and I will fuckin' take it, I will definitely fucking take it. I've had dreams like this, about you bein' here on top of me but they all ended the same.” He groaned when you rose up on your knees, words tumbling out of his mouth as you yanked down the zipper on his pants. “Ended with me wakin' up in an empty bed, in an empty fuckin' house, like you did when I left, an' I know I deserved every fucking dream, every fucking time.”

“Mmhm, at least a couple of them.” You agreed, shoving his pants and boxers down out of the way. You carefully stood, balancing on the bed over him with one hand on the wall so you could undo your own shorts and step out of them. The sound that tore free of Jeff's mouth was the best noise you'd heard in your life, half-snarl, half-whine. It made your knees a little weak and your legs shook, threatening to dump you in a graceless heap on top of him.

“Oh darlin', darlin', look at you. Just...fuck, darlin', you're not even close to bein' fair.” Jeff slammed his head back against the mattress, hands balled into fists in the blankets underneath him. “Can't handle it. Need you. I need you, I need you, please, please please.” He begged so sweet, moaning out when you obliged and wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, sinking slowly down onto him. You were so wet the motion was almost too easy, your body humming in feverish delight as you took every inch of his cock until you were finally seated on his hips.

“This alright?” You gasped. Jeff's response was to grab a handful of your shirt and drag you down practically nose-to-nose with him, his other hand jerking your sports bra out of the way so he could fondle your breasts.

“Oh, this is way better than alright. You just keep fuckin' those hips down onto me and we are not going to have a damn problem.” Jeff said through gritted teeth, keening when you obediently shifted your body. “Yes, fuck yes, darlin', oh my God get this fucking shirt off so I can enjoy these perfect tits.” He pleaded, words partially muffled as you kissed him. “Christ I ain't never needed anyone like this, I'm never, ever leaving you again. Ever. Never.”

“I'll hold you to that.” You stopped moving and cupped his jaw, try to make sure he understood the gravity of the situation as your body screamed hungrily for more, more, more!

He looked serious enough, even going so far as to take his hands off of you. “Never again.” He murmured, chuckling into the kiss you gifted him for his sincerity. “Hell or high fuckin' water, never again. The only notes I'm leaving you from now on are gonna' be dumb mushy ones that you'll find inside the refrigerator or behind the couch. Maybe some hearts in the steam on the bathroom mirror. Y'know, that kind of...uh.” He trailed off when you pulled your shirt over your head and disposed of it, then he caught the back of your neck and cradled you to his chest.

You cried out at the change of angle while his hips pistoned into you, cock dragging over your spot and your pubic mound slotted tight with his pelvis. You were barely able to move, just grinding against him and whimpering helplessly.

“Sounds like you're close t' comin', darlin'. Am I right? You gonna' come, you gonna' come on my cock?” Jeff hissed in your ear, his voice dipping low with every emphasized word. “I know you want to, I know you want to so fucking do it, darlin' I want it, God I need it, I need you, I need you to let go, fuck, darlin', darlin'-” You bit down on his shoulder in an attempt to muffle your scream when you came and Jeff made a noise that sounded suspiciously close to a sob, burying his face in your neck. “Christ, m' gonna' come, darlin' I have to pull out, I gotta'-”

“Come in me.” You panted, twining your fingers through his.

Jeff stared up at you, his whole body trembling. “Oh fuck, darlin', I-”

“Please.” You added breathlessly, making Jeff groan.

“Fuck, fuck, you can't just--like that? Fuck, if you want it. If you want it. Do you want it?” He gasped, hips quivering nervously under you.

You nodded, pressing a kiss to his knuckles and shifting your weight from side to side. That was apparently enough to convince him as he thrust up into you once more, hard enough to rock your knees up off the bed and then came inside you with a loud groan of completion.

He smiled up at you, so happily that you became self-conscious, drawing back from his warm look. “What?” You asked finally, surprised when he started to laugh, actually laugh, and he pulled your face down to his for a kiss that seemed to last for hours.

“Thank you. Thank you so fucking much.” Jeff sighed when you parted, his hands finding yours.

Tattooed roots dug deep into your soil once more, but this time you didn't feel like likening yourself to plain old dirt. No, you were a garden, flourishing now like you always should have, your skin alight with the fire of a thousand eager blossoms. You were strong and vibrant and alive, and Jeff seemed to realize that.

“You're the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. I'm so glad you came over.” He murmured, that goofy smile back on his face. “You uh, wanna' get dressed again? I can show you some more of my paintings or something. Play you a song, if you want.” He offered, a little shyly.

“I think I'd like that a lot.”