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whatifxwereyou · 4 years ago

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Ashes Chapter 7: The Sea

Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader

With time comes understanding, to a point. At the very least comes understanding. You have some revelations and in the ocean, you find some peace. Also- you are take the worst selfie ever.

A/N: This story had been heartbreaking to write, but also a ton of fun? There's a tiny little reprieve in this chapter and the next and then right back to sadsville! Thanks for reading. I appreciate you guys and would give you all hugs and smooches if I could and it wasn't a pandemic Lol. Did you know that USBs can disintegrate? So, you know, back up your work in more than one place.

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You barely slept. Liu had come in a little while after you and hadn’t said a word though you had caught his eyes on you at least a dozen times. Neither of you had really slept, you supposed. Before sunrise you’d given up on sleep and got up. You cleaned up in the small washroom and then went outside to meditate.

The woods were peaceful.

The mountains were peaceful.

You were not. But you had time to reflect.

You tried to think about literally anything else besides the arguments with Liu Kang from the past two nights, but it was nearly impossible.

Wasn’t it unhealthy of you to even consider what Liu Kang was suggesting? Your long-term very serious relationship had just ended, and it had only ended because he had died. Then again, you weren’t sure what would have happened with Liu if he hadn’t put himself in a place of lesser significance than Kung Lao.

Because with reflection, you’d realized that was what he had done. And it was something that he had always done ever since you’d known him.

Kung Lao. Descendant of the Great Kung Lao. The Chosen One. A man who had been raised since his youth to embody the spirit of the champion who had saved Earthrealm many years ago. Liu Kang had put him on a pedestal. He’d been taught to.

He was just a filthy orphan. He’d even used those exact words to describe himself. Liu Kang was second place- even to himself. Then when Kung Lao had come to him regarding you, he’d done the same thing. Put himself in second place. He’d even said that he hadn’t deserved you.

Your meditation was ruined.

Dammit.

Why hadn’t you noticed before? If he had just told you any part of the truth all those years ago, then you would have grabbed his shoulders, shaken him, and told him he was just as worthy of love and praise as Kung Lao was. But that wasn’t what he’d done. He’d chosen to put a wedge between you.

“The past is just that.” You had to remind yourself. You couldn’t go back in time and erase what had happened. There was no way to know what would have become of you if you had pushed Liu Kang a little further than you had back then. It had been so unlike him to behave that way but you’d also been terrified that he would say exactly what he’d said. He’d fulfilled your self-doubt and fears without realizing.

It had broken you. You hadn’t had it in you to push him.

You’d instead agreed to go out with Kung Lao and that had started a wonderful relationship. But you had also started it when you’d been broken. It had taken time for you to open up to Kung Lao about anything, to be intimate with him, to connect and all because you had been broken up about Liu Kang. Kung Lao had been patient with you and you supposed that was because he had known that Liu Kang was stepping out of the way for him.

Hindsight was everything in this instance.

An unfamiliar energy joined you nearby, seated a few feet away from you. Nightwolf. He was calming. You sat in silence and watched as the sun rose beyond the trees, spreading its radiance over unfamiliar but still beautiful terrain. You cleared your mixed thoughts of Liu Kang, of Kung Lao, and of guilt.

You were there to work, not to sort out your baggage. Part of you considered that Raiden had sent you together to work out your baggage but who knew anymore? It didn’t matter. You quieted your brain and focused only on the sunrise.

Nightwolf had something to say. You could feel it but you would also allow him the time to find the words that suited him. You hoped it was soon. Silence was unkind.

Finally, he turned to you.

Thank god. If he talked then your brain would stop filling the silence.

“I’ve decided meet your Lord Raiden at your request.”

“Really?” You made no effort to hide your surprise. Honestly, you and Liu were making all the wrong impressions on people lately so you wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d said no or needed more time. If that had been the case then Liu Kang would have… you stopped your thought. You had no idea what Liu Kang would have done. He wasn’t himself those past few weeks.

It stung to think that.

You wanted him to be okay. You wanted him to be okay more than you wanted yourself to be okay. If you had to suffer every day in grief for the rest of your life for him to be okay, then you would have. So much for your brain shutting up.

“Like you said last night, it’s the right thing to do. I don’t wish to leave my home but if doing so means protecting it? Then it’s worth it.”

“Thank you.” You breathed a sigh of relief. He was so reasonable and kind. You hoped that you got to know him a bit better when you got back to China. He seemed like a good guy. At least this one thing had gone right, though you were certain that it was because Nightwolf was a good man and not because you and Liu had done an exceptionally good job of convincing him. You’d spent time with him, of course, but your collective energy was a total mess. “Do you need time to make arrangements for your home?” Honestly, you were ready to leave right now. Then you could head to Hollywood.

Maybe Liu wouldn’t come with you and you could have some space and time to think. Then again, you were now incredibly concerned about Liu Kang and wanted to make sure that he was okay. Your handling of the arguments had been poor, at best. It was difficult to be kind to yourself and remind yourself that you were struggling too.

“I packed all that I should need.” He smiled as if reading your thoughts and you nodded.

“Thank you, Nightwolf.”

“The decision was an easy one when I thought about it. What was the alternative, really? To ignore the truth? Live life knowing that I could have done something great for my people? For our world?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” You drifted off with a smile and watched the sun as it settled just amongst the trees. Perhaps today would be a good day.

“Just say the word and we can head on our way. The hike will take us another three days and…”

“Yeah, about that.” You explained briefly that you would be summoned to Raiden’s Temple and that you didn’t have to worry about typical means of travel. It was difficult to explain why you had hiked to see him but wouldn’t be hiking back. Raiden could have very well done many of the things you’d done himself but the reasons he didn’t were his own. You could guess but your brain was exhausted by speculation right now and there was no point.

Liu Kang joined you partway through your explanation and sat politely after greeting you both. He was more like himself that morning and you were glad for that. He didn’t jump down anyone’s throat or interrupt you even once. He even offered you a soft smile and gave words of gratitude to Nightwolf. You left them to gather your things and soon enough, you were having breakfast and then going on your way.

Back outside, Liu Kang stood before you and with a flourish of fire that startled Nightwolf he prayed for safe passage. A crack of lightning burst blindingly before you, offering you passage through.

“You can stay for the moment if you like.” Liu placed a gentle hand on your forearm and then escorted an impressed and surprised Nightwolf into the lightning. You were surprised that he hadn’t hesitated to walk into it. Your first time had been Liu Kang practically carrying you through it while you rattled off the reasons it was a terrible and impractical means of travel.

“Good luck.” You bowed politely to Nightwolf who wished you well. They disappeared into the bolt of lightning, leaving you alone again with only your thoughts to keep you company. God, you were tired of your thoughts. They were exhausting. You wished you could have a break from your brain.

The woods were still and silent minus the wind rustling through the trees. You sat atop one of the logs surrounding the abandoned firepit and considered that it felt lonely there without Nightwolf’s presence. You hoped that whatever came next regarding Outworld and Mortal Kombat, that he would be okay. He was a good man.

Lightning struck behind you and you half-expected Raiden to be the one to greet you but instead it was Liu Kang. He walked to join you after the lightning had disappeared and sat next to you. The tension was instantly awkward and nervous between you. You had so many things that you wanted to say to him, to ask him, but you said none of them.

Liu Kang was a wonderful man.

A good man. A brilliant and studious disciple. A skilled and dazzling warrior. An excellent listener. A good friend. A tremendous lover. And still he seemed to think that his place was in the service of others. Another outstanding trait, except that it meant he thought he was worthy of very little. Then he’d finally thought of himself enough to tell you truths that he’d hidden and you’d panicked.

Worse than that? You were too exhausted to say any of that to him. You expected it to be a fight if you did.

It appeared that Liu Kang was exhausted too. When you caught his face in the morning sun, you could see his weariness and the depths of thought behind his dark eyes. He turned as if feeling you studying him and you locked eyes briefly before both turning away. There were volumes left unsaid between you but you took his hand without thinking and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

You would be okay.

One way or another, you would be okay.

Time was what you needed. But you also thought that was what you’d needed with Kung Lao too and then that time had been stolen from you. You didn’t want that to happen again either but you didn’t know how to fix what had broken with Liu Kang. You wanted to fix it so badly but you didn’t even know what fixing it meant.

You only knew that you wanted him to be okay.

He squeezed your hand in return before letting go and standing. You joined him, urging your bag onto your back. “To Hollywood?” Your voice felt dusty, creaky, like a door that hadn’t been opened in eons. Only minutes had passed but it was enough time for the mood to have shifted.

“Yes.” Liu bowed his head but avoided your eyes. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Nightwolf was okay without us being there?”

“Yes. You were right. He made the right choice for the right reasons. I should have given him the time and explanation he deserved.” He walked away from you and you watched him go. “I didn’t want to go to Hollywood. I asked Raiden just to send you.”

Oh.

That was fair, you supposed.

It hurt for a second before you could picture him in your head telling Raiden that he didn’t want to hurt you anymore so he would stay behind. Falling on his sword again and again to protect the interests of everyone but himself.

“He insisted?”

“Yes. Apparently, this actor is a handful.”

“Didn’t think I could do it alone? Jax and Sonya are already there.”

“And Cole.”

Ah, yes. The man that Kung Lao had died to protect. You hadn’t met him in person yet. He’d rallied your friends when they had needed it and had saved Liu Kang from his grief. You dreaded seeing them. Seeing new people meant that they would walk on eggshells around you. They would ask you how you were coping. You’d have to explain for the millionth time that grief was something you learned to live alongside rather than overcame. Then the tremendous guilt that came with the attention of it all. Liu Kang had lost his brother. You were sure that he was going through something similar but people seemed to act more sympathetically toward you.

“You ready?” You didn’t know what else to ask. He didn’t want to be there and whether the reason was you, the others, or just disliking California, you felt awkward. You wanted him to have his space and to grieve the way he needed to. That was all you wanted. But Raiden, apparently, had other ideas.

You admired the sunny sky one last time before you joined him as he summoned the lightning that would take you across the country.

You arrived on the beach.

You could hear people chattering in the distance. It was amazing that no one had seen you. You supposed that Raiden was a god and knew where to put you but the whole thing still dazzled you. Years of traveling by his hand and you had never once gotten used to it. You hoped that it always surprised you.

Liu walked toward the water instead of toward the road on the other side. You were still a bit away from Hollywood and you didn’t know where you were going. You assumed that Raiden had told Liu but you also imagined that where you were headed wasn’t toward the water. There was nothing there but dark ocean under gray skies.

You watched as he made his way down the wooden steps of the boardwalk and onto the beach and then hung your head back toward the sky and prayed. You prayed for peace for Liu Kang, prayed for the patience to get through whatever came after your last horrible confrontation. He’d said you’d owed it to yourselves to figure it out. Figure whatout? If you still had feelings for him? It was clear that he did for you and the very thought gave you goosebumps that you had to mentally work to shake off before following him into the sand. You took off your shoes and followed him.

The sand was warm between your toes despite the overcast skies and chilly breeze. Pulling the smartphone from your pocket, you took a picture of Liu Kang standing just before the water line in the sand where the waves were currently lapping at low tide. He was beautiful and so you turned away and put the phone back in your pocket. You were grateful now for the camera in the phone. That was one thing that you regretted not having over the years.

How many pictures did you have of Kung Lao?

One.

From your first date. He’d asked someone on the street after dinner to take a photo for you on a throwaway camera you’d bought on a whim during your previous trip. Most of those photos had been of random things that had made you laugh, sites you’d visited, or important things that you’d had to show Raiden but couldn’t bring with you. Except for the one photograph from your date, that was.

You wouldn’t let that happen again. Even if you and Liu were in a complex place, you wanted pictures of him. Of you together. You decided to steal another one and as you were admiring it on the screen, Liu Kang joined you at your side. You fumbled with the phone, dropped it in the sand, and before you picked it up, Liu was doing it for you.

He dusted off the screen and handed it back to you. He didn’t ask you why you’d been admiring a photo of him, but you swore you caught just the slightest hint of a smile on his lips. “I missed the ocean.” He gestured toward the water. “Didn’t mean to sidetrack us.”

“Do you think Raiden would be furious with us if we just… sat on the beach all day?”

“Maybe. Are you going to tell him if we did?”

“…only if I’m mad at you.” You smiled and he shook his head before turning his gaze back toward the water. He’d earned the shore. The waves. Even just for putting up with you the night before.

Liu Kang sat in the sand, legs folded. You sat next to him, careful to make sure there was a little distance between you. Maybe you could be at peace next to each other if neither one of you opened your mouths. You took a picture of the ocean.

He watched you curiously as if to silently ask why you were suddenly taking so many pictures. So much for not talking. You just hoped that you didn’t end up screaming at each other on the beach. This place was peaceful and you so rarely had peace. You were sure that soon enough you would be amidst chaos. You had earned this moment.

“I didn’t have any pictures of Kung Lao.” You explained when he didn’t let it go. He nodded as if to understand but you saw his brow furrow, as though he wondered whether or not he had any pictures of him either. “I have one, I guess. But it’s old and poorly shot and I… I don’t want to forget his face. I don’t want to forget anyone’s faces. You enjoyed the ocean so much just now and now… now I have that picture forever.” You’d said too much which was just like you.

“Can I see?” He held his hand out for the phone and you offered it reluctantly. What if he deleted them? Maybe he didn’t want pictures of him. It was a silly thing, but you had been desperate to see Kung Lao’s face one more time and all you’d had was one blurry picture where you’d gone on your first date and your damn heart had been broken after Liu Kang so you hadn’t even looked happy in the picture. Kung Lao, however, had looked incredibly happy, even if his face had been blurry.

Kung Lao was rarely the type to sit still, especially when you were out and about in the world. The picture was an accurate portrayal of him at the time.

“You look sad.” Liu Kang handed the phone back to you and much to your surprise, he’d taken a picture of you. You definitely did look sad. You hadn’t meant to wear your heart so obviously on your sleeve. “I don’t want to forget your face either, Y/N.” In a gut reaction, you covered your mouth and stared back at the water and felt your eyes burn with tears. They were threatening to turn into sobs but you refused to cry. You were sure that you looked ridiculous, contorted, and trying to hold back tears. “I don’t want you to look sad.”

It took you a solid few minutes to keep yourself from just bursting into tears. “Well, I’m sad.” You decided there was no point in lying when you’d been broken up about it so obviously. “But so are you. Maybe it’s okay to have pictures where we look sad.”

“Maybe.” He scooted closer to you in the sand. “Take a picture with me.”

“Why? To have proof of how miserable we’ve made each other in the last week?” You turned the camera around on the phone after struggling to figure out the buttons.

“What? You don’t want to relive us screaming at each other every time you look at it?” His smile was weary.

“Already reliving it pretty consistently without photographic proof, Liu.”

“We should talk.”

“I know.”

“I’m afraid of what you’ll say.”

“Yeah, that scares me too.”

“What you’ll say? Or what I’ll say because I feel like we’re doing a lot of talking without thinking lately which is unlike both of us.”

“I have always had a hard time with that. You maybe think too much before you talk.” You tried to lighten the mood and he at least laughed a little, even if it was just beneath his breath. You adjusted the camera and Liu carefully took it from your hand before aiming the screen toward you both.

“…how do I do this?” He tried to adjust his hand so he could take the picture while he held it and so you reached to do so instead and took the least flattering picture that either one of you had ever taken. “Try that again.”

“That isn’t how you want to remember us?” You pointed to the little preview in the bottom corner of the screen.

“Not at all.”

You were terrible with technology, it turned out, but together you figured it out and took a nicer picture. “…we both look sad.” You sighed and put the phone back into your pocket, pulling your jacket tighter around your shoulders. The ocean breeze was surprisingly chilled. He nodded to agree and you watched him for longer than you should have. Even sad, he was handsome.

Even when he’d been fighting with you the night before, he’d accused you of thinking more about the memory of Kung Lao than your own feelings. But your feelings had been terrified of him and you had run and hid instead of confronting him. Hadn’t that been selfish? A thing he had not accused you of being. Your heart hurt.

He was right. You should talk. You hadto talk. Even if you locked yourselves in a room and screamed at each other until you broke or talked it out calmly, you had to find a way. But you weren’t ready to. For now, the sound of the waves breaking onto shore were soothing mixed with the sounds of families out for a stormy day on the beach. There was plenty of chaos to come, but for now, you sat side by side in relative peace.

Peace was a strong word.

You sat together troubled and sad but without judgment. You suffered separately but together.

Next Chapter >>

#liu kang x reader #self insert #reader insert #liu kang #mk liu kang #mortal kombat movie #mortal kombat 2021 #ludi lin #liu kang/reader #liu kang x you #liu kang/you #fanfic #fanfiction #angst #romance #death #tension #grief #beauty through ash

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quicksilversquared · 4 years ago

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Move to Safety

After Adrien just happens to spy Nooroo in his father's office, he's sent into an panic. His father is Hawkmoth, which means that Adrien is in serious danger.

Thankfully the Dupain-Chengs are more than willing to step up to the plate and lend a helping hand.

links in the reblog

Adrien didn't know what he was going to do. He paced, he grabbed at his hair, he made a couple stabs at making plans to run away but found big, gaping holes in his plans almost immediately when he actually managed to take a half-step back and look at them again.

His father was Hawkmoth, and Adrien Was Not Dealing.

"I can't sleep here, what if he finds out about me?" Adrien asked frantically for the twenty-fifth time, carding his fingers through his hair. "Or what if he already knows? What if he suspects something and decides to put up a camera on my window? What if-"

"Okay, first of all, I do check for things like cameras and hidden microphones all the time," Plagg said loudly, cutting through Adrien's panicked fog for the first time in- well, for the first time in however many minutes it had been that Adrien had been freaking out. "There aren't any over here or any even pointed in this direction, which is a bit odd considering how often you sneak out but maybe it's because people can't really sneak in this way. Second of all- can't you move out? You were planning on doing that when you went to university anyway, right?"

Adrien nodded, then shook his head. "I'm too young to move out yet, I still have a few months before I'll even be able to sign a lease. And if I move out right away- then he'll know that something is up. It's better not to arouse any suspicions, but I don't want to be close enough for him to get any suspicions about me."

"He's had years to get suspicious about you, though," Plagg countered. "It's not like you just started being Chat Noir."

"Yeah, well, I've had years to get suspicious about him, too, and look at where we are now!"

Plagg looked. His usually picture-perfect Chosen was a frazzled mess in the middle of his room, hair sticking up oddly from him pulling at it so much. He could see where Adrien had been pacing in the carpet, the little loops scuffed more than the ones around them. Scattered pages of notes from his half-baked plans covered the top of the desk, some things circled and others crossed out (and some circled and then crossed out).

It was a somewhat unsettling picture.

"Okay, so first of all, don't let on that anything is different," Plagg said, because apparently he had to be the cool-headed thinker between the two of them now. "If you do, your father will investigate. Second of all, you have locks on your doors, right? Lock them at night."

Adrien shook his head. "It won't make a difference. Father has the keys to all of the rooms. At best, I could set an alarm so that I would wake up if someone came in, but that would be hard to do without anyone noticing. What if I set it at night, had to go out for a morning akuma attack and forgot about it, and one of the maids tried to come in? Then the alarm would go off and Father would be so confused and annoyed and would investigate and-"

Plagg watched, unimpressed. "I think pigtails is wearing off on you with the over-the-top unrealistic panic scenarios."

"They aren't unrealistic! You've seen what Father is like. Paranoid and controlling and- he's a supervillain, Plagg, it's not unrealistic for him to notice something off in the room and wonder about it and then he would try to lock me down even more while he tries to figure out what's going on and why I have an alarm system set up on the interior doors of my room."

...his Chosen had a good point. So Plagg sighed, floated down to desk level, and actually gave it some more thought.

Tikki would be so proud of him right now.

"Okay, so you'll definitely have to tell Ladybug sooner rather than later," Plagg started, because while the discovery was earth-shattering for Adrien, he still had to think like a superhero. "And then, uh..."

Yeah, so maybe he was coming up a little blank.

"Yeah, that was about as far as I got, too," Adrien said moodily, flopping down in his desk chair and spinning around. "I mean, once I turn eighteen and can rent a place, I could just escape at night and run over there to sleep. As long as I set an alarm every night, I should be able to get back here before anyone notices that I'm gone. And I would only need to buy a mattress to keep over there, at least until I move out for good. And at least I can afford it," he added. "All of the money from my modeling and commercials and all the other stuff that I've done- that's in my account, and no one can take it from me. I made sure that the account was entirely in my name last year, when I started thinking about moving out. Neither Father nor Nathalie can touch the money in there, I made sure of that."

That still left several months between now and then which- well, again, not ideal. Maybe they would defeat his father before then, since they knew where to find him now, but if they didn't...

"Lots of sleepovers with friends, maybe?" Plagg suggested weakly. Adrien laughed, then sighed.

"Yeah, I wish. I think Nino might start to wonder if I showed up at his house every night for three and a half months, though. And his parents might call Father, and I don't want that." Adrien slumped in his chair again, then straightened with a yelp when he caught sight of the time. "Oh! Crud, I'm meant to be going over to Marinette's house today so we can all hang out today. I don't want to be late for that. C'mon, Plagg, let's go!"

Adrien was undeniably, irrefutably, most definitely feeling off. And it was showing. He had lost the last three games of Mecha Strike to Nino, of all people- and he had lost badly. Thankfully his friends seemed willing enough to write it off to exhaustion from too many photoshoots instead of interrogating him on his distraction, and so Adrien got off scot-free.

That wasn't good if he was so obviously distracted, though. Nathalie would see through his squirrely behavior in an instant. She knew that he didn't have an overly loaded schedule- well, no more loaded than it usually was, at least- and she would be more likely to ask question.

He wondered if she knew about his father. She had to, right? There was no way that she could miss it when she was working in the same room as him day in and day out-

-she was Mayura, wasn't she. The thought hit Adrien like a brick wall, and he swallowed hard, feeling a little ill. His father was his family and Nathalie had been like family and they were the supervillains terrorizing Paris, the ones that he had to fight against almost every other day.

He was going to be sick.

How Adrien made it through the rest of his get-together with his friends, he didn't know. It seemed like time flashed by in an instant and then Nino and Alya were leaving, headed out the door together arm-in-arm and without a care in the world. Adrien was about to follow them- now that he was nearly eighteen, he was actually allowed to walk between Marinette's house and his own instead of having the Gorilla drive him for the few short blocks- when a slender hand slid around his wrist, stopping him before he could get more than a couple steps. Confused, Adrien blinked and turned around to see Marinette staring up at him, concern written across her face.

"Something is bothering you, isn't it?" Marinette asked, tugging Adrien gently away from the door and letting it close. "You've been off the entire time that you've been here."

Adrien tried for a smile. "It's nothing, just photoshoots-"

"You haven't had a photoshoot in three days, and you were just fine after the last one," Marinette shot back, and belatedly Adrien remembered that oh, right, Marinette had an open invitation to all of his photoshoots and knew when they were. "And if you were tired, you would have passed out on the couch while we were playing games. Instead, you were almost fidgeting out of your skin. And you suddenly got more distracted partway through- you looked like you were about to be sick."

"Start-of-summer cold?" Adrien offered up weakly. Marinette looked even less convinced, brow furrowed with concern as she gazed up at him. All of a sudden, Adrien couldn't do it anymore.

"My father is Hawkmoth," Adrien confessed in a rush, practically collapsing in on himself. "I was passing by his office today and I saw him talking to Noor- to his kwami, and it was a butterfly, and then he pulled off his necktie and was rubbing this brooch underneath it and why would he hide any jewelry if it weren't the Miraculous? And Nathalie knows, she has to, she's in the same office all day and she has to be Mayura and I'm living in the same house as two supervillains and I can't move out for a year without them getting suspicious and what am I meant to do?"

Marinette looked rather as though she had been hit by a truck, she was so surprised. Adrien winced.

...he definitely could have broken the news better. Maybe she wouldn't want to be near him now, because it would be dangerous to be near the son of a supervillain even though he wasn't a supervillain, he was a superhero, and wasn't that ironic? He had to fight against his own father.

That was really, really messed up.

Marinette's expression shifted from startled to confused, and Adrien heard her mumble "But how does he know what-?" before her grip suddenly tightened around his wrist and she turned his hand, just enough to see his ring glinting in the sun. She let a tiny oh, and suddenly Adrien knew without question that somehow she had just figured out his secret identity.

A soft thud behind them caught Adrien's attention next, and both he and Marinette swung around in time to see Mr. Dupain startle, righting his tray before another loaf of bread could fall off. His gaze returned to Adrien as soon as he had ensured that all of the bread was safe, and- okay, apparently Marinette's dad had overheard him.

He hadn't planned on letting people know, let alone this many. Marinette's family was perfectly normal and completely functional and he shouldn't be burdening them with his family's problems. But now Mr. Dupain was setting down his tray to come over and wrap Adrien up in a hug, and when had Marinette started hugging him? Adrien couldn't help but stiffen up in surprise at first, before practically collapsing into the hug.

Adrien hadn't been hugged like this for so long. Two sets of arms wrapped around him, and Marinette's hands were rubbing up and down his back. It was absolute unquestioning acceptance, and Adrien couldn't even manage to be embarrassed about the tears that he could definitely feel starting to leak down his cheeks. Marinette's cheek was pressed against his, and she clearly had no reservations about holding him close.

"Does your father know that you found out about him?" Mr. Dupain asked, pulling back but only enough so that he could see Adrien. "Or doesn't he know?"

"He doesn't know," Adrien said at once. After all, he hadn't lingered much in the atrium once he saw the kwami- Nooroo, Plagg had called him- before making a hasty (and quiet) escape to his room. In fact, he wouldn't be 100% sure of what he had seen if it weren't for the fact that Plagg had seen it, too, and had even zipped back to try to eavesdrop for a bit. "I left right away, and he wasn't facing the door. But I just- I can't believe that I've been sleeping under the same roof as a supervillain. Two supervillains, if you count Nathalie."

"You don't feel safe sleeping there anymore, do you?" Mr. Dupain asked at once. He was frowning. "I know that I wouldn't."

Adrien nodded, burying his face in Marinette's hair and trying not to sound like he was about to cry. He was pretty certain that he wasn't succeeding. Also, he was definitely getting snot all over her hair, and he would have to apologize for that later. "Yeah. I was planning on moving out once I started university, and of course I can get an apartment once I reach my birthday and then just sneak out to sleep there, but I would have to wait for that."

"And it's very possible that your landlord would still reach out to your father," Mr. Dupain said, and Adrien's head flew up in alarm to stare at him in alarm. He had only done a little research on apartments, enough to figure out that he had to legally be an adult to rent without a guardian's signature, but he had a source of income and a savings account of his own and surely that would be enough, right?

Marinette was frowning, too. "But surely if he asked the landlord not to say anything, they wouldn't?"

Her dad shook his head. "Not necessarily. I assume that you would pick something small and relatively cheap, at least for the time being," he said to Adrien, and Adrien nodded in confirmation. He didn't want to spend too much money right away, after all. "Right. Some of those landlords- well, they're not the best, to say the least. They would know that you come from money and they might try to exploit that. It's not legal, and all you would have to do to get them to back off if they were trying to push for more than what's in the lease is report it, but if something like that happens or you forget to pay on time they might go to your father, and once is all you need for him to find out."

Adrien nodded, his heart sinking.

"And frankly- Adrien, you're still a teenager. You're still a kid. You shouldn't have to be spending your money on essentials yet, and I'm not comfortable with letting you do that." Mr. Dupain glanced towards the bakery, where Mrs. Cheng was still working the front counter. "I'd have to discuss it with Sabine, of course, but- Adrien, we do have a guest room that rarely ever gets used."

Adrien's jaw was practically on the floor at the implied offer as soon as it sunk in. "I- I mean, that would be- are you sure?"

Mr. Dupain smiled, clapping Adrien on the shoulder. "You're a kind young man, Adrien. If you don't feel safe at home, we'd be more than happy to help. I will have to tell Sabine about your father, though, to convince her that we're actually helping and not just trying to steal you away from your family. Not that she would be entirely opposed to that, of course."

If it would get him a place to stay at night, that was fine. He would just have to trust that the Dupain-Chengs wouldn't get akumatized before he and Ladybug could take Hawkmoth down. "Of course."

"Good, good." Mr. Dupain gave Adrien's shoulder a squeeze before stepping back and picking up his tray of bread again. "Why don't you two head back upstairs then? If you can stay for dinner, Adrien, then maybe we can discuss how this is all going to work out?"

Adrien nodded obediently, glancing back towards Marinette. He certainly wouldn't mind staying longer- the Dupain-Cheng home was so warm and friendly, so very unlike his own- and he also had a few things that he needed to discuss with Marinette. Namely, the fact that she had figured out that he was Chat Noir.

Somehow.

Adrien's mind was racing as he and Marinette headed back upstairs. He was trying to figure out where to start. Should he try to deny her discovery? Would she even believe him if he tried? Something told him no.

"We're going to have to figure out how to time things so that your father doesn't catch on," Marinette said as she ushered Adrien back upstairs towards their living room. She sent him a sharp look. "Though I suppose that you being able to just slip in and out from your window makes things easier."

...yeah, he wasn't even going to try to deny his secret identity. Marinette hadn't phrased it as a question. She knew.

Adrien sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Ladybug wasn't going to be happy about someone finding out his secret identity, but at least- well, at least they knew Hawkmoth's identity, too, so an end to this whole fight was in sight. Hopefully. "Yeah, it makes things a lot easier. But speaking of that..."

Marinette glanced up at him. "Yes?"

"We really need to talk."

#Miraculous Ladybug #my writing #Move to Safety #adrien agreste

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matildainmotion · 3 years ago

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All That We Carry - and the launch of the MWM Peer Mentoring Programme.

Image by Zoe Gardner @limberdoodle

“How are you?”

“Oh, you know, surviving,” I say.

“Taking it a day at a time.”

“Just about upright!”

Or sometimes I say nothing but describe a hilly landscape with my hand - “Up and down,” I might add.

Over the last ten years, since my son was born, I have accrued a ready-made stock of replies when someone - at the school gate, the shops, on a zoom call- asks the generic “how are you?” I can’t bring myself to smile gaily and say, “Great, thank you!” so my responses are designed to indicate just enough of the truth not to make the questioner worried or burdened, but do not tip me into the territory of barefaced lying. Because, the fact is, it’s hard.

‘It’ means everything - my son, my daughter, their school, my mother, time for my husband, the house, my work, my health, my sleep, the world.

‘It’ is a tiny word. In this context ‘it’ makes me think of an ant - the way they clamber across the dirt track by our house, carrying a stick, twice their size and weight. We do this. Parents and carers do it. Women do it. Non-binary people too. We carry A LOT, and often we do it in relative silence, either because we are too exhausted to shout about it, or even to notice or fully acknowledged it to ourselves, or because we do not know who to tell or how to tell them.

This is not new. Not news. We have been doing this - carrying a lot - for a long, long time. In fact, there is even a well-researched theory that the first thing that a mother ever made was probably a net or sling* - a thing to put things in, to enable her to carry more than she could manage to hold with just her hands, just her arms. We have been carrying stuff around in nets, slings, sacks, pots, on our heads, on our backs, in our bellies, in our hearts, we have had loads on our minds for millennia. The act that is less well documented, because it happens less, is that of us setting things down. Of course, some brave pioneers have done it, through acts of radical art, or resistance: Hildegard of Bingen, Rosa Parks, Mary Wollstonecraft. But all too often when we hear of someone ceasing to carry it all, it is a story of crisis - of dropping the lot, out of exhaustion, ill health, burn out. Because mostly, as a carer, there are so few opportunities to set things down, we just carry on carrying.

Six months into motherhood, when I was feeling the hardness of it already, I enrolled on a support course for parents and I still remember the phrase that the course facilitator used: most parents, she said, walk around with “a huge empathy deficit.” Empathy, I believe, involves someone else bearing witness to all you are carrying, acknowledging its full weight. It is a miraculous thing, but this acknowledgment in itself lightens the load, or perhaps, more accurately, the load gets no lighter but we feel stronger, better able to bear it. Earlier this year - still feeling the struggle - I enrolled on another course, a Hand in Hand Parenting one. The founder of Hand in Hand, Patty Wifler, did so out of a recognition of the severe lack of support that parents receive in our culture to do the enormous task of raising children. A cornerstone of her approach, her answer to the ‘empathy deficit’ is the idea of Listening Partnerships - a peer support arrangement that enables parents to offload regularly, safely, with another adult.

For a long time now, I have wanted to run something like this within Mothers Who Make- a way to provide one another with support, encouragement and accountability, as we do the almighty work of caring and creating. It is the same impulse that informs our peer support groups, but there is something vitally different that can take place in a one to one exchange - a more precise sharing of the weight of what you are carrying, a chance, for however brief a time, to set it down and take a good look at it. This month then, I am delighted to announce the launch of the MWM Peer Mentoring Programme. I ran a trial in July and it was everything I hoped it could be, so I am very excited to offer it again now. Please read about the programme below - what it is, how it works, how to enroll. Before you do, however, I want to use this moment as I might a peer-mentoring session, to set down what I am carrying, not because I need empathy (though, like everyone else, I do!) but because I hope it will give you permission to do the same. One thing I love about writing is that, despite the distances of time and space it traverses, it is strangely intimate, like a one on one exchange - just me, telling this to just you.

So, in answer to the question, “How are you?” here is the fuller response, which I do not give most of the time:

I am tired, always, and tired of being tired. The nights feel like dark imprints of the days, a negative image, not restful but grainy, smudge. Last night I slept on the children’s bedroom floor because it was easier to relax without the pressure of being in a bed, with the hardness of the floor against me. Today my breasts are tender even though I am only partway through my cycle - I googled it - another symptom of the perimenopause. Next door, as I write, my son is playing Lego Star Wars on the TV and my daughter is watching Lego Friends on Granny’s iPad - their daily dose of screen time so that I can have my daily dose of this, but it never sits easy. I dread the week ahead, of dressing them in bed, still half-asleep, readying them for school, where it is uncertain how their day will go, how long they will stay before I get a call asking me to pick them up, how they will be when they come home - it is a shock, although it shouldn’t be, to realise that both my children are neurodiverse. This is a trendy term nowadays, one to celebrate, and I do, but it is also a weight, to carry all the not-fitting-in-ness that goes with it. The last two nights my son has thrown up with anxiety, from the fear of anything bad happening to any one of us. I managed to get the potty-as-sick-bowl there in time, on to his top bunk, calmed him at last, till he fell asleep just before midnight. I went downstairs to turn off the lights - I always stop at this moment, to look through the back window into the tiny dark of the garden, to Granny’s room, or shed, at the end of it, and wonder how long my mother will live and if it will be long enough to see my novel published - apparently it takes two years even once you’ve got a publisher. I told her this yesterday and she frowned, said she would have a word with God, thought she ought to be able to manage it. I am wondering, though, how I will manage it - manage to do the rewrites the book needs, to do the work MWM requires, and the work I have taken on for Improbable, the finding of a new home for the company, but also for us, a new school, a place for us to be. And meanwhile, the house is overspilling – every room - with toys, books, dvds, with plastic trinkets from the inside of Kinder eggs, dried up felt tip pens and stale biscuits, stored in tins too late, which I should throw away but I can’t face the waste and so I continue to pretend that one day they may get eaten.

That’s me. And all the short answers are still true - I am surviving, I am still upright, taking it a day at a time, through all the ups and downs, and I am, actually, in a position of great privilege, on many levels.

And you? How are you? That’s my question for the month. And I’m interested in the long answer. Here are some ways you can respond:

You can post below this.

You can participate in the MWM Peer Mentoring Programme - read all about it and apply here: https://motherswhomake.org/peer-mentoring

You can attend a peer support meeting - read all about that and book your space here: https://motherswhomake.org/international

*The Carrier Bag Theory of Evolution by Elizabeth Fisher in Women’s Creation (McGraw-Hill 1973)

Image by Zoe Gardner @Limberdoodle

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ourflagmeansgayrights · 7 months ago

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man this post was not originally intended to be abt takes i think are wrong i was originally adding on “anyway here are my criticisms abt s2 that i haven’t been yelled at for” and then partway through i was like hang on i should first list some criticisms abt s2 that aren’t valid criticisms and are just wrong. and then i went down the “s2 criticisms that suck” rabbit hole got too tired to type up what i meant to say in the first place. i will not be writing my criticisms right now tho i am trying so hard to sleep. tossing and turning for hours now

i love the dynamic of “it seems like the ofmd fandom is an echo chamber of negativity and s2 hate, im scared to say that i rlly liked s2” posts vs “why do ppl act like it’s groundbreaking if they liked ofmd s2, all i see is relentless forced positivity and whenever i try to talk abt a criticism i have abt the season i get dogpiled” posts bc i don’t know what the fuck you guys are talking about. im here in a secret third camp like “my dashboard is very positive towards ofmd s2 and personally i also really liked s2 but the writing is objectively not nearly as tight as it was in s1 and while i’m like 99% certain that the shortcomings are mostly due to factors outside of the creative team’s control i have still spent time unpacking the criticisms i have of s2 on multiple occasions and i have never been dogpiled for these critiques.” idk what ofmd circles y’all are in but ive been enjoying the season and discussing its flaws with no problem for months now

#i didn’t actually want to talk abt bad ofmd takes lol i just wanted to talk abt how it’s possible to both love s2 and critique it #i got sidetracked. unfortch #it’s the exhaustion probably #tag later

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dorksndisasters · 4 years ago

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Session 2

[[<PREV]] | [[NEXT>]]

Let’s pretend I didn’t almost forget about this, ok? Cool? Good stuff.

episode 4 went up on patreon.com/scmalarky, if you want ahead!

players involved: Siana, Ophibwynn, Carric, Uriel

“Should we – we should take this back to the city. Right?” Ophibwynn asks, pausing in the act of cleaning her new golden flute.

Carric shrugs. “I guess?”

“But why?” Uriel sighs. “They’ve already lost it, we could just... make it stay lost?”

“No!” Ophibwynn shakes her head. “No, we’re definitely taking it back. We can’t just keep it all.”

“Oh?” Carric raises an eyebrow, glancing at the flute in Ophibwynn’s hands.

“Finder’s fee,” Ophibwynn replies, after a pause.

Carric laughs. “Alright.”

They find a handcart and load the rest of the stolen goods onto it, and pile Siana in on the top of it all, since she hasn’t yet woken up.

“How long does that mushroom effect last?” Ophi nods at Siana.

“Uhhh...” Carric shrugs. “She’ll be fine. Probably.”

“Alright...”

“Come on,” Uriel says, stalking out of the camp. “If I do not get to keep everything, I would at least like to be in a proper bed tonight.”

Carric and Ophi share a glance and, between them, create a magic sending that will pull the cart for them.

When they arrive at the citadel, the gates are closed and Rarder, the human in charge of the guards at the gate, is leaning over the wall atop it.

“Any chance you can let us in?” Carric calls up.

“Depends,” Rarder yells back down. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

“The... missing items?” Ophi says. “We found the bandits that had stolen them.”

Rarder whistles, sounding impressed. “Well.” He turns to yell – roar, maybe, is the better word – down to whoever’s below to open the gate.

He meets them inside and glances over the group, gaze resting on Siana’s sleeping form for a moment. “You’d best take all that over to Captain Aewyth. Annan, you show ‘em the way.”

One of his guards – a human, tanned skin, blonde hair tied back in a ponytail – nods to Rarder as she steps up to the group. “This way.”

They follow her away from the gate.

“So,” Annan says, seeming to relax as they get further from Rarder’s watchful gaze. “Bandits, huh? How did you find them?”

“I took-”

“We found a map,” Carric says quickly, talking over Uriel. “And we thought we’d check it out.”

Annan nods, glancing at Uriel. “Where was it?”

“Out in the woods. Not too far off the path, honestly. Nice little clearing.”

Annan nods again, and the whisper of a frown passes across her face, too quickly for the group to notice.

She leads them to a local command post which, despite the late hour, is still fairly busy with guards coming and going.

“Can we leave – oh, Siana! You’re awake.” Carric looks back to see her sitting up, still fairly groggy.

Annan whistles over a guard. “Keep an eye on this cart until Aewyth works out what needs doing, alright?”

She walks into the building without waiting, and the four hurry in after her.

Annan leads them past the first two doors – one of which is slightly ajar, and sounds of training can be heard coming through it – and to a closed door just off the main hallway. She raps her knuckles against it, and the conversation behind it halts.

“Yes?”

“Rarder sent me,” Annan says, opening the door. “This group found the stolen items.”

“Send them in.”

Annan opens the door and lets the group file in past her.

The office is mostly neat. The desk is not quite covered in small piles of loose notes and empty cups. There‘s a long table along one side with a couple of plants and a small shelf of books on it, upon which a kobold sits, practically bouncing with badly restrained energy.

A magelight hovers in the corner next to the covered window, which seems to be the only source of light in the room. It’s dim, casting a comforting sort of glow.

Annan doesn’t wait to be dismissed before she’s closed the door and left them there.

“So. You found the stolen goods?” Aewyth scans the group.

“Yeah.” Ophi nods. “They were, um, just... outside the city...?

Carric and Uriel engaged in a minor tussle, in which Carric is victorious and holds out the map.

“Found this,” she says, and passes it over. “But we brought them back in, they’re in a cart just outside.”

The kobold shifts to sitting cross-legged, leaning forward with his hands on his ankles, studying the group with unabashed curiosity.

“Who are you?” Carric asks.

“Bituin,” he replies, grinning.

“You don’t... need to pay him any attention,” Aewyth says.

“Wrong, you should pay me lots of attention. I know things.”

“Yeah?” Carric smiles. “What do you know? Anything interesting happen recently?”

Bituin hesitates, appearing to think. “Oh!” He smacks his tail off the table beside him. “Yeah! There was someone new in the city last night. They came in near the waygate, but not through it. That interesting?”

“Did you see them?”

“Yeah, they were all dark ‘n’ mysterious! Wearing a cloak that reached the ground, I couldn’t see their feet at all.”

“Bituin.” Aewyth casts him a slightly tired look.

He giggles and pulls back against the wall.

“I am. sorry about him.” She rubs her fingers against the bridge of her nose. “Tell me – was the Hanging of the Empress amongst the stolen items?”

“The Hanging... I don’t think so.” Ophi shakes her head.

Siana sits upon the floor and pulls out a bag of runemarks. “It wasn’t, but if I just...” She passes them from hand to hand and then pools them across the floor.

The others move back, giving her space to work.

Bituin rocks forward onto his knees and peers down, and his eyes seem to glow briefly before he blinks.

“It’s... it’s the reason everything was stolen,” Siana says. “It’s long gone.”

Aewyth leans back in her chair, sighing. “Right. Thank you. I... will pass that on. And get everything back to its original owners.”

“Ok, uh – we'll... be at the Knave and Cauldron? I guess?”

Ophi winces. “I am so late for my shift.” She turns to hurry from the room and the building.

The other three follow her, Siana hurriedly picking up her runes and piling them back into their pouch.

They’re partway across the square in front of the command post when Bituin comes running after them.

“You dropped this!” He holds out a note to them.

“Thanks?” Carric takes it. “I don’t think we did, but – he's gone.”

Bituin has darted off down a side street, disappearing in an instant.

She unfolds the note and squints at the elegant writing.

This is the last of the items from Malpha that we need you to acquire. Once this is completed, we no longer require your services; your reward is on its way. Keep out of sight, and await any further orders.

It is unsigned, but the front of the note is addressed to “Aelfswild”.

“That’s... that’s the guy we bought the gems from,” Carric says. “Right?”

“Think so.” Siana shrugs. “It doesn’t say who it’s from?”

“No.” Carric passes the note to Uriel, who inspects it closely.

“Well, he might be at the Knave and Cauldron,” Ophi says, all but running ahead of them. “So come on!”

The sun is mostly set by the time they arrive.

Aldehrt, the owner of the inn, grunts at them as they arrive, and gestures Ophi to the small stage.

She dives up there, shedding her bag and coat on the way, and stumble to a halt at the seat, pulling out her carrot flute to start up a jaunty tune.

“Do you know Aelfswild?” Siana asks. “He was in here last night, with an elf.”

Aldehrt frowns. “You think I know everyone that comes in here?”

“Well-” Siana starts.

“I don’t, alright? Don’t know the name.”

“Maybe we could jog your memory?” Uriel asks, before Carric can quiet her. She’s spinning a knife between her fingers, and her tarantula is sitting on her shoulder.

“She doesn’t - she doesn’t mean that,” Carric says, pushing Uriel’s hand down. “But do you know someone who might know where to find him?”

Aldehrt narrows his eyes, drawing his shoulders up like he’s squaring for a fight.

Ophi, from the stage, bleeds a little bit of magic into her flute playing, and a calming sensation takes over the room.

“Bondua,” Aldehrt says, still a little gruff. “He’s not here tonight, but he knows everyone.”

“Thank you,” Carric replies. “Appreciated.”

She pulls Uriel with her and Siana to a table out of the way. “So.”

Siana pulls out her runes again, placing the note on the table and tipping them over it. “Looks like this is from an elf sorcerer.”

“Not from here, I’m guessing. Not if everything’s going out of town.”

Siana nods and tosses her runes again, but doesn’t get anything new.

As Ophi finishes her shift, she talks to a few of the regulars, asking some questions. When she sits down with the group, a tray of drinks in hand, she announces that the Hanging of the Empress – a tapestry depicting one of the Elder Gods in their high form – was formerly displayed in the Scriptorium, before it was stolen.

The group decide to head there in the morning, and proceed to down their drinks and find their rooms to crash in.

Over breakfast, the four decide to put together disguises and fake their way into the Scriptorium as religious personages from out of town.

The Scriptorium is an imposing building. It’s taller than the others around it, and built of heavy stone blocks, without any kind of intricate moulding or design.

Siana stares up at the slanted roof and thinks about climbing up there to see across the city.

Ophi tugs her attention back to the door of the Scriptorium as they reach it, and Carric knocks.

The doors are closed; it’s early, maybe even too early.

Carric knocks again, and Uriel gleefully calls out, “Open up, or we’ll kill you!”

“No we won’t,” Carric hisses.

Uriel shrugs.

The door opens, just a crack, and Uriel brightens up.

“See? I knew it would work!”

“Can I... help you?” The kobold squints up at them and pulls back into the shadow of the door, out of the soft morning light.

“We’d like to talk with... with whoever’s in charge,” Carric says. “Important matters.”

“And you are?”

“Visiting dignitaries?” Ophi suggests. “I mean – we're. From a religious branch. Out of town.”

“Yes,” Siana says, her eyes still on the roof. “We’d like to talk things over. About the heights we can reach.”

The kobold squints at them and hums. “You two.” He points at Carric and Uriel. “You can come in.”

“What did we do?” Ophi looks affronted.

“Limited visitors,” the kobold replies. “I’m sure you understand.”

Carric glances back and shrugs at Ophi and Siana as she follows Uriel and the kobold in.

Ophi tries to follow, but gets the door shut in her face. “Huh.” She turns to Siana. “So... what should we do?”

“I can climb it.” Siana was still staring up at the roof.

“I think... I think that might make it worse.” Ophi crouches to pick up Gordon. “But if we can get Gordon through a window, maybe he can help. Somehow.”

Siana nods and circles around the corner of the building and into the slim alley. “Here, pass him over.” She looks up at a window, a little above the low building next to them.

Ophi passes over the rabbit and steps back as Siana scales the side of the building with relative ease.

She sets Gordon on the window ledge while she jimmies the window open, and leans in to drop the rabbit onto the floor.

“Alright,” Siana murmurs, as she drops back to the ground. “He’s in.”

Ophi nods. “Back to the inn?”

Siana glances up at the roof again, and sighs. “Alright.”

Inside the Scriptorium, Carric and Uriel are led through tall, straight corridors with only a few off shooting paths.

He knocks at an unadorned door and waits for the person inside to call him to enter. “I have visiting dignitaries. They’re like to speak to you.”

“Let them in, then.”

As they enter, Gordon comes hopping down the corridor, and Carric crouches to pick him up. Her own familiar, a wren, hops down her arm to greet Gordon, and something seems to pass between the two of them.

All the grandiose austerity of the scriptorium comes to a head in this room, which seems too large for the person sitting behind the slab of a desk.

She seems young. Lightly tanned skin, round glasses, auburn hair that almost impossibly fades to purple at the ends. She’s already watching them as they enter the room. There’s only a few things on the desk that she could have been paying attention to before they entered, but it isn’t clear which held her attention.

“Visiting dignitaries? We weren’t informed of any visitors coming our way.” She doesn’t stand up to greet them.

“Surprise visit,” Carric replies, smiling. “You are...?”

“Autag. I run the manuscriptorium. That will be all.” She flicks long fingers in the kobold’s direction.

The kobold leaves them, closing the door in his wake.

“We’re investigating the thefts,” Carric says. “I believe the Hanging of the Empress was taken from here?”

Autag stiffens, almost imperceptibly. She spreads out her fingers, like she’s merely stretching them. “Where did you hear that?”

“Aewyth,” Uriel says, and Autag almost frowns. “We managed to find some of the stolen goods on our way into the city. I am sorry that the hanging wasn’t amongst them.”

“I suspect it is long gone. It has been two weeks, after all.”

Carric clears her throat. “Have you any clues? About how it might have been taken.”

Distaste flashes across Autag’s face. “I suspect an inside job. There was a kobold who was more interested in it than his work.”

“What happened to him?”

“He disappeared, not long after the Hanging was stolen. I should have known. He was hired as a favour to someone, but he wasn’t quite so particular about the job as I was told.” She lets out a chuckle. “Well; he wasn’t particular about the job I gave him.”

“Do you remember who asked you to hire him?” Uriel is stalking the room, studying the edges of it like she’ll find something out of place.

“... No.” Autag watches her, face carefully blank.

Carric closes her eyes, focusing. Her familiar stands on her shoulder and whistles an odd, fluting tune.

Its eyes glow, its feathers darkening into a swirling sort of implacable void as her patron speaks through it.

“Į̵̪͚͚͈͙̦̝̓̀̐͌ ̸̡̢̮̯̖̙͌̎̑̃̌̊́́͛͌̿͐͠͠͠à̶̡̧̭̣̮̥̠̠̲͉̥̘́̉̋̚m̸̧̘͚̜͍̰̭̳̼͔͌̌̈́͑̏̔̊͘ͅ ̷̨̛̥͉͇͖̉̅͂̄̎͋͗͜l̵͓̇͐̋í̵̧̦̭̠͍͚̲͕̙͍͇̕͜ͅs̷̢̧̭̠͚̖͙͈̱̹͍̤̝͍̋̐͘͝t̶̳̯̪́̿̈̒̑̑̏̈́̀̕͝ȩ̵̛̰̞̣̭̤̝̫͉̞̜̺͆̍͌̋̍̋̓̔́͋͒͝͝ͅͅn̵̡̧̳̝̪̭̪̬̰̾̀́̚ì̷̢̻̩̜̬̹n̸̢̛͇̝̺̯̗̱͍͙͓̍͆́̀͂̚g̴̟̳̞̖̪͉̙̦̭̱̮̤̈́̒͛̓̉̎͌̚͘.”

“Can you tell me who hired this kobold?” Carric asks.

Autag is watching, curious.

The wren tilts its head, and after a pause, “T̴̨̧̞̬̭̲̯̣̰̥̲̙͒̇̌̉̎̂̈́̎̇͛̂͋̍ĥ̸̞̻̣̬͚̟̝̟̞̩̈́͂͂͘͜e̶̜̓̓́́̀̉i̸̹̬̗̙͎̳͉̙̫̞̹̐̇̄̈́́̽̊́̒͌͗ͅr̵̠͔͇͗ ̷̡̡̢̡̨̘͚̬̬̠̹͕̞̂̀̒̅̽̾͋̏̓̕̕͝ņ̷̘̜̥͎͈̟̰̈̂̄ą̶̛̖̼̫̫̦̳̗͈̓̋̎̈͑͒̈́̓̈͘m̵̯͓͔͈̰̘̤̖̝̙̜͉̾̉̌̓̓̇̀̃̀̀͘͠ě̶̢̨͉̠̳̭̝͚͖̻̫̓̆̌͐̋̒͗̀̿͑̕͝͝ ̸̬̭̻̦̥̱̿͆͌̈̾̅͂̕̕͝ȉ̵͙̜̣͈̯̰͚͎̍͋̒̇̂̊̐̕ͅͅs̶̡̡̢͉͇͙̝̞͚͚̦̿̌͋̈̄́̆̀̔͋̅̈́̐͝ͅ ̴̢̛͉̠̟͎͇̒̍̐̏̿̅͂̂͑̒̐̄Ǐ̷̩̗͓̗̲̫̰̜͍̜̪̹́͊̀̄͋͆̓̐̇̽̏͝͝l̴̡̧̬̘̰̲͎̝̖̬̖̥̙̂̿́̓̋̀̽̎͛͜͝r̵̛͖͈̭̝̱͕͚̟͎͎͚͆͛̀̌̋̅̿́̔̓͗̀̎͠ͅǫ̵͖̹̝̦̗̮̱̤̦̤̦̥̟̫͐͂̍̉̀̋̀̉̄̊̽̊m̷̡̳̟̞̬̞̬̳͚̻͈̖͛͛̊̄͒͜͝ͅĭ̵̢͈̮̻̖͍͓̲̟̱̫̇̓̋͂̂̍͒̃̓̃.”

Gordon shifts like he wants down.

“Nothing more?” Carric asks, relaxing her arms.

Gordon drops onto the ground and lollops over to where Uriel is trailing the room.

“Ouch.” Carric presses a hand to her head. “Ok. Thank you.”

The wren whistles again, and returns to normal.

“Uriel.”

Uriel puts down the heavy paperweight – a solid orb of wood – and looks over. “What?”

“We should find the others.” Carric turns to Autag. “Thank you. Are you hiring? To cover the loss of Driany?”

“Are you looking for a job?” Autag’s lip curls. “No. There are no openings.”

“Alright. Thanks.” Carric hefts Gordon back into her arms, and nudges Uriel towards the door. “We’ll not take up any more of your time.”

Autag watches them leave, inscrutable.

They find Ophibwynn and Siana in the Knave and Cauldron; Ophibwynn brightens up considerably as she sees Gordon in Carric’s arms.

“I have an idea,” she says, and takes Gordon back.

Gordon is almost instantly lined with an unearthly glow, becoming less a rabbit and more a rabbit shaped window into the void, much like Carric’s bird had done.

“Where can we find Bondua?”

Uriel almost scoffs, but she falls silent when Carric raises a hand to stop her.

“W̸̨̛̪̠̠̽̄̔͌̌͒̌͐i̴̳̣̍͊̋̾ẗ̴͔̦̫͉̦̖̘̪̯́h̸̙̤̖̹̫͆̌̀͗̈́̃̐́̅̚i̸̧͚̟̼̔n̶̤̤͖̝̥̟̭̞̻̩͇̍̽͆̿ ̷̭̠̬͖͔̘̬̙̠͎́́t̴͎͕͚̠̺̙̘̜̹͔̯̻̯̳̐͑̊̍̒̉̓̎̓̽̓ͅh̶̙̲̠͕̮͛͆͆́̂̐͒̐̑ȩ̸̡̡͖̤͍̦̭̱͚̣̭̿̿̏̈͐̎̇͌͜͜͠ͅ ̷̡̛̰̮̣̱̟̋̎͆͠w̸̛͉͌̚ą̶̰̩̟̘̦̞̭͉͖̪͈̐́̎͌̒͑̅̀͋͝l̷̡̧̡̘̲͈̭͚̳̠̀͑͋͊̊̊̿̑̌̋̅͑̆͠l̸̛̙̦̦͌͆́͛̏̌̅̕s̷̫̀͑͊̓͂̈́͊͆ ̵̡̢͕̹̰̺̱͖̦̀̀̂̽̚o̴̡̤͍̪̥͚͈͓͔̻̔̊f̵̺͒̿͋̊̇̑̊̎͆ ̴̱͓͍́̆̃̊́̍̽̅͂t̵̠̗̪̲̥͖͍͇̮͈͌h̸̙̜̮̗̫̯̥̎̒̇̌̚��͙͉͈͈̫͉e̷͎̹̻̻͝ ̸̡͕̞̞͚̣̙͕̬͍̟̺̈́̀͜͜S̴̺̖̜̜͇̅̌̌̌̽͐͒̆̈́̈̀͠e̴͇͎̬̊͊̌͂̓͋̒̓͑ř̴̨̧͖̤̗͙͎̻̽͐̀̓̒̒̔̏̕͝ͅp̵̨̪̙̳̟̼̗͍̱͔̺͛̇͌̓̔̚e̴͈̮̤̭̘͉̗̤͙̝̩̫̎̔̎̒̀̔͊͌̃͂͐͘n̴̡̛͙̐̂́́̽̽͋̋̐͠͝͠ͅt̷̡̖̦̲͚͔̲̤̯̲̯̻̫̄̏̽͗̓͛̑̀͆̈́̂͋͑ͅ ̵̢̞̪̜̈̓̇̎́̑̀͒̒͌̚͘͠I̶̫̬͍͉̎̅͒̂̈̋̿̈́͆́̈n̶̪̲̱͈͎̙̙͇̻̟͇̪͋̅̐̌͗̇̋̾̈̎͐̿̃̾͜n̴̨̡̢̛̛̤̥͕̝͍̮̎̍̈́͐̔͆̓́̿̊̋.”

“Is that a... wise way to find out?” Siana asks.

“Thank you.” Ophibwynn strokes Gordon’s ears.

“We’ve already made the deals with them,” Carric says. “So we might as well use what we’ve got, you know?”

“The Serpent Inn...” Ophi frowns. “Aldehrt, do you know it?”

He’s walking past their table as she asks. “Sure. It’s in Highlamp. Will you be back for your shift tonight?”

“Probably?” Ophi shrugs. “We... might be onto something here.”

Aldehrt grunts. “Alright.”

Uriel looks up as the rest stand and make their way towards the door. “We just got here!”

“And now we’re going somewhere else. Come on. There’s another inn with drinks at the end of it.”

Uriel stands, grumbling, and follows.

The Serpent Inn is a strange place. They say it was built by an elf in the early days of the stabilised waygate, as either a peace offering or a levelling of the field. It still has those marks of elvish creation, most notably the spells laid like carvings into the woodwork that allow everyone to know each other’s names from the minute they walk past the threshold. Those same spells also prevent offensive magic from being used within the walls.

Elfgild – the current owner, a half-orc – is working on pulling the magic from the walls, but until then, the spells remains.

It is almost noon; the inn is quiet, but for Elfgild behind the bar, and two patrons sitting at a low table in front of one of the arched windows. These are Bondua, an elf, and Coirpre, a half-elf. They’re deep in conversation as the group come closer.

“You really think I can get in, this time?” Coirpre is asking. He seems younger, in attitude and face. Middling brown skin, amber eyes, glasses that half conceal the glyph mark burnt into his skin. His hair is almost amber, shaved close on the sides and swept back on the top.

“Of course,” Bondua replies. His skin is almost ashen grey, his hair piled on the top of his head in a bun of coils, leaving his long ears free to move. “I truly think the Scriptorium is the place you should be.”

“Oh, good luck getting in there, mate,” Carric says, dropping into a seat. “They aren’t hiring.”

Coirpre’s face falls. “Oh.”

Bondua frowns. “Where did you get that information?”

“From Autag. Talked to her this morning.”

“I - uh, I should be going.” Coirpre gets to his feet. “Thank you. I think.”

“Any time, little one.” Bondua smiles almost fondly at Coirpre. There’s something just slightly threatening behind it, like a spider eyeing a fly.

“Let’s get drinks,” Ophi says, attempting to catch Elfgild’s notice.

“What can I do for you?” Bondua sketches his gaze over the four of them as they shuffle seats about.

“We were hoping you could tell us about this,” Carric pulls the note from her pocket and passes it across the table.

He takes it, examines it. “Since none of you are Aelfswild, I do have to wonder where you picked this up.”

“Handed to us by mistake. Do you know who it’s from?”

Bondua shakes his head, accepting one of the drinks that Elfgild brings over.

“Look, we just want to return it to Aelfswild. Seems important, right?” Carric takes a tankard and drinks first.

Bondua hums. “I think I can get it to him, if you like.”

“We’d rather meet him ourselves,” Ophi says.

“Do you know where to find him?” Carric asks, as she casts the smallest truth spell she can, trying to avoid detection.

“I don’t know where he stays. But I know someone who does.”

“T̶̺̣̰̑̋̉̌͛̍r̷̡͐͋̆̎͋̿̃̐̿̐̈u̵̡̱̪̟̟̖̼͉͖͍͇̮̺͂̍̋̈̉̆̂̾t̷̡͕͖̼̜̟͍͉́͊̑̊̍́̕͜ͅh̴̢̧̨̺͙̪͇̹̝̼̩̬̝̮̾̍̃̏͛.”

“Can you... get them to meet us?”

“Why are you trying to get Coirpre into the Scriptorium?” Uriel asks, leaning over. “Did you help to steal-”

“Nothing like that.” Bondua laughs. “I simply think it would be... prudent to have a man on the inside.”

“T̶̺̣̰̑̋̉̌͛̍r̷̡͐͋̆̎͋̿̃̐̿̐̈u̵̡̱̪̟̟̖̼͉͖͍͇̮̺͂̍̋̈̉̆̂̾t̷̡͕͖̼̜̟͍͉́͊̑̊̍́̕͜ͅh̴̢̧̨̺͙̪͇̹̝̼̩̬̝̮̾̍̃̏͛.”

Bondua stands. “I will send for my friend, shall I?”

“Please.”

As Bondua leaves, the group lean in.

“Ok,” Opih says. “What else did you find out in the Scriptorium?”

Carric and Uriel fill them in as they wait for Bondua to return.

They’re eating, when Bondua arrives with Annan in tow, and drinking a little heavily.

There are more patrons now, the place filling up as the afternoon draws on. The influx of names as each one crossed the threshold takes some getting used to, but after a while it becomes easier to tune out. The drinking helps a little.

Annan tenses as she crosses the threshold, whipping her head around to stare at the group.

“Oh, it’s you!” Uriel grins. “Hello again.”

“... Hi.” Annan slips into a seat beside them. “Bondua said you wanted to meet Aelfswild.”

“How do you know him?” Ophi pushes a tankard over to Annan.

“Old friends,” she replies, taking it up.

“And you can take us to see him?” Ophi smiles, leaning back against the chair, head lolling slightly onto Siana.

“... Sure. It’ll have to wait until I’ve finished my shift.”

“Ugh, night shift.” Ophi wrinkles her nose. “The worst.”

Annan laughs, slightly awkwardly. “As long as it pays, right?”

Ophibwynn hums, taking out her current flute and beginning to play half notes.

“In the morning?” Carric asks. “The Knave and Cauldron?”

Annan shakes her head. “The market between Orchard and Crystalfane.”

“Alright.”

Annan glances at Bondua, who smiles cryptically at her. “I’d best be going.”

“Tell your boss not to be such a hardass,” Ophi mumbles past her flute.

Annan laughs, and leaves them to it.

“You won’t be playing your shift tonight, will you?” Siana asks Ophibwynn.

“I can play it here,” says Ophi, and returns to shakily playing her flute.

#dnd #homebrew #campaign

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youarejesting · 5 years ago

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Quarantine.21

[Masterlist] Pairing: BTS x reader Friends2Lovers But as slow as you can go until the anticipation kills us all… Genres: friendship, drama, romance SLOWEST OF BURNS BUT IT WILL BE BURNING AN ETERNAL FLAME!!! Rating: PG-13 and above Summary: Your brother works with a few BigHit dance teams and whilst having permission to accompany him at work the city shuts down banning anyone from stepping outside for a whole WEEK while they disinfect the streets. If you step outside you might get arrested, shot or poisoned by the chemicals they are emitting through the city. Words: 1.7k Announcement: This one is a little longer and I didn’t get to explore as much as I wanted with the boys but, I think it will get there. But trust me there will be some talking next chapter. The boys are trying to distract themselves while they are feeling pretty rotten and it isn’t going as well as they hoped.

[Part 1] [Part 20] [Part 22] [Tag Yourself Here]

Yoongi had been spending his time in the laundry listening to the constant churn of the machines, he moved the clothes from the washing machine to the dryer. Once they were finished he ironed and folded each piece, at some point he even learned how to hand stitch a few holes in items. He couldn’t stand being alone in his studio, which was such a strange notion and he didn’t know what else to do. It seemed the whir of the machines and the constant moving of his hands, gave him enough time to think. That dreaded conversation overlapping in his head again and again. He cried at some point as embarrassing as it was for him to admit but his words so brutal cut even him when he remembered the tone in which they were spoken.

Taehyung was taking his frustration out on the saxophone, he had locked himself in Jungkook’s studio and was playing obnoxiously loud until his lungs felt like they would give out. He was angry and wanted nothing more than to start a fight but he found this tired him out without bringing the conflict to the group.

Jimin and Hoseok we’re keeping themselves busy online turning themselves out with posts and lives and people kept asking where the others had gone and why they looked so sad but no matter how hard they tried to deny it they knew they were just trying to escape their problems by focusing on the army.

Each boy was overextending themselves, Namjoon putting himself into his writing and getting thoroughly pissed at the result of his work. He had stayed up through the night something he didn’t really like to do, walking to their dance lesson both on edge and exhausted.

The boys were practicing their dance routines, not that they had to perform any time soon but with nothing else to do they just kept going over the choreography making sure it was ingrained into their memory. They were partway through the routine when Namjoon turned too quickly his arms held out a fraction further than intended. Smacking Jungkook to the ground. Jungkook felt a pop and he laid there in intense pain, they were worried crowding around.

“Jungkook, I am so sorry, are you okay?” Namjoon asked the younger boy, who was laying on the ground trying to muffle his pain.

“I’m okay Hyung?” Jungkook spoke through gritted teeth. They tried to help him up despite his yelp and protest. They looked him over trying to examine him for damage when they noticed how his arm was hanging limply from his body.

“It looks worse than it really is” Wincing as he spoke wasn’t exactly convincing them. They contacted their health equivalent within the building who called the hospital for someone to collect him and perform proper care. They didn’t want to damage the shoulder further.

“Please tell me if you feel the urge to push okay, or a stinging sensation” Asking for her clinic book you took pictures sending it to the doctor for him to translate and explain if there were any possible complications. Encouraging her to lean on her couch on her knees, you rubbed her back and helped her breathe through it.

Her husband’s phone died about four hours in and she was crying for him. “He will be back okay” you assured her, “you are doing so well, this is your special moment between you and your baby.”

“I can’t do it without my husband” she cried “You can do it, you are tough, you are a beautiful powerful woman and you don’t need a man to prove how strong you are, Myunghee you got this okay, can I check to see if you are progressing?”

You asked nervously, she didn’t want to move and you knew it had to be time. Helping her to get into a comfortable position, Myunghee allowed you to check once more, according to the doctor she was ready and the baby was crowning. She had entered the second stage of labour and was ready to push.

“Okay on your next contraction I want you to try to push, if it doesn’t feel right I want you to stop but pushing should almost feel relieving. When you push remember to breathe okay your baby needs oxygen. I will count for you each contraction you push for ten seconds okay” She nodded and the next contraction came and she started to push.

“Breathe out two three four five in seven eight nine ten, okay how did that feel,” you said she nodded pushing continued for twenty minutes and Baby’s head was almost out “okay I need to check that the chord isn’t around the baby's neck so if I tell you to stop pushing, you have to stop, it will be hard but think about your baby okay at that moment think about how strong you are okay”

She nodded pushing again and you told her to stop, she did her body shaking as she cried out. “The cord is around the baby’s neck, let me move it okay”

You unraveled the cord while she was whimpering in pain. “Okay next push and I think your baby will be out. So big push okay use all your muscles okay” she nodded and you had moved everything you had sterilized in hot water. You didn’t have to wait long but you took a deep breath and got ready.

The baby came out and you caught it in a towel using a sterilized turkey baster to suction any fluid from the nose and the baby cried instantly. Taking the clamps from the bag and clamping the umbilical cord either side to be safe you cut it. In the middle, you wiped the baby down and smiled “it’s a little girl” you grinned and she held her baby in her arms. She began breastfeeding and you did a quick amount of research on breastfeeding and gave her some tips.

You relayed the tips and she seemed grateful for the help, you waited to help her deliver the afterbirth and checked that it was completely whole and you smiled helping her into the shower and getting dressed. She laid on the bed and you handed the baby over.

“I will stay and watch over you both until the other doctor comes” you measured and weighed the baby. You prepared some food for Myunghee and checked she was okay every few hours and you smiled telling the father his wife was sleeping and showed him his daughter telling him how much she weighed and how tall she was and the time she was born.

He was ecstatic, “I will get her to call you the moment she wakes up” he continued to thank you. She woke later to the baby’s cries and you smiled. “How are you feeling, your so tough, your daughter will definitely be proud of her mother”

Myunghee smiled “I couldn’t have done it without you, you were really amazing you made me feel safe” “Yes you could have done it on your own, you got a call while you were asleep, I told him everything went well and you were both resting, tell him about how good you were”

She smiled talking on the phone with her husband and showing off their daughter, the walkie talkie went off. You moved away from her to answer, “this is Y/N. Miss Bu Myunghee has successfully given birth to a baby girl weighing 7 pounds 2 ounces and 48 centimeters long, both mother and baby seem quite well and are being monitored, there was no tearing or major bleeding from mother and baby is eating well. I can stay until the doctor comes out?”

“That would be ideal, please keep on the lookout for any signs of regression” they explained what to look out for and you nodded heading back inside. “Come here” Myunghee beckoned and you rushed over alarmed. “Is something wrong?”

“Miss we would like you to be our baby’s godmother,” the father asked in English and you looked shocked. “Really?” You searched their expressions, they smiled nodding back. “If you want to, you have done so much for is already” “I would love to, what is her name?”

“Choonhee, it means born in spring” “Little Choonhee, you are so cute” “Would you like to hold her?” You held your arm out and gently took the baby and smiled she was so small and your heart warmed with a feeling you thought lost, you tilted your head back crying”

Everything you said to Myunghee, about being strong and tough and that she didn’t need a man that all stemmed from you, that was your subconscious talking to you. You smiled wiping your eyes with your clean sleeve. You felt like you were rebuilding like an epiphany began that this was the pivotal moment. You had been tossing around back and forth your self worth about being nothing and something and it not mattering but now you were sure you were worth it, you always were in the ups and the downs you were worth it”

It took guiding someone else through there fears and suffering to realise you weren’t lacking anything.

“We will try to send someone over as soon as possible, Please ice the wound and call back if the situation changes or the issue worsens” The doctor from the clinic hung up feeling light-headed, he turned to the receptionist with a pale face. Staring at her while he dialed your number.

“What seems to be the problem?” Your voice coming through the phone seems to have more color than he had heard in a long time” “We got a call, for a possible dislocation, there is too much swelling to re-position the joint safely but the problem is, it’s from that building”

“Which building?” “BigHit” “Oh ok, I will head over, do you know who got hurt?” he blinked, surprised you didn’t completely collapse in on yourself at the mere mention of the company they came from. “I think it was Jeon Jungkook”

“I will be around as soon as I can, will Myunghee be okay alone here, after just having a baby?” “You have been reporting her and her baby are in excellent condition and the ambulance will be collecting her and her child the moment the sun is out. I will notify the husband to call if anything seems to have gone wrong” “Okay I will let her know and then I will head straight over”

[Part 1] [Part 20] [Part 22] [Tag Yourself Here]

Tags:@bubbletae7 @lovemusicandotps @taetaebq @seveniefive @w0lfqu33n @anaiss97 @moccahobi @maddymal @lilacdreams-00 @lethargicalyssa @knjkitten @pieislife @bunnyboyenthusiast @vividwoosan @seesawsmin-flower @tinyunknownflower @gguksfilter

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komaeda-nagayto · 5 years ago

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Komahina Week Day 2

Prompt: Soulmate AU

Rating: T

Summary: The first words your soulmate says to you are imprinted on your body. Sometimes, you have two phrases. (Both Kamukoma and Komahina)

AO3 link

@komahinaisle

------

“Hey. Can you hear me?”

Hajime blinked a couple of times. He recognised those words, had read them over and over on his arm. Maybe he was dreaming.

“Hey. Are you alright?” the voice continued, “You sure look exhausted. I am too, you know. We all are. I mean… with all the crazy stuff that happened.”

Hajime opened his eyes to see a boy about his age standing over him, white fluffy hair, a concerned look on his face.

“Hey, are you listening?”

Hajime sat up, looking around as he remembered everything that had happened.

“You are OK, right?” the boy asked.

“I… just leave me alone,” Hajime said. The boy took a startled step back.

“No. I couldn’t possibly leave someone who looks as sick as you alone. Besides,” he rolled up his left sleeve, showing his arm, “I never thought this was the context I would hear that.” Hajime stood up and grabbed the boy's arm, staring at the words. The words Hajime had just spoken staring up at him. Mimicking the boy, he held out his arm, showing the words on his skin.

“This is not how I wanted to meet you,” Hajime said softly. The boy shrugged a little, looking carefree.

“I don’t think we get to choose that.” He gave an open laugh.

“Right.” Hajime was still uncomfortable.

“Anyway, we should introduce ourselves! I’m Nagito Komaeda, I’m the Ultimate Lucky Student.” He had a wide smile as he introduced himself.

“Oh. Right, yeah. I’m Hajime Hinata,” Hajime said, forcing himself to smile, as much as he didn’t want to. Nagito nodded, and looked Hajime up and down, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

“Hmm… I just can’t place what your talent is. Won’t you tell me, Hinata-kun?”

“Oh, I’m… well…” Hajime paused, shaking his head. Why couldn’t he remember? He was part of Hope’s Peak now, so why couldn’t he remember his talent?

“Hinata-kun?” Nagito’s voice was full of concern.

“I… can’t remember.” Hajime said quietly, putting a hand to his head. His head was burning.

“You don’t remember?” Nagito repeated, before his look of concern turned cheerful again. “Well I’m sure your talent is amazing! Nothing like luck! I’m sure you’ll remember!” Hajime nodded, not sure he agreed.

“I… I hope so,” Hajime muttered.

“We should get you introduced to everyone else!” Nagito said, still cheerful. “Come on!” Hajime nodded, at a loss to do anything but go along with this strange boy who was apparently his soulmate.

After the first trial, Hajime couldn’t sleep. Nagito’s manic laughter was ringing in his head. How could someone like that be his soulmate?

He didn’t understand. Why would Nagito try to kill someone? For hope? He wanted to see their hope grow? That didn’t make sense!

Leading up to the murder, he thought he and Nagito had been getting along well. They’d spent time together. Hajime felt calm in his company, like things would be okay. He had enjoyed spending his time with Nagito. He had wanted to be around him. Now, the thought made him sick.

Not that he let it stop him from knocking on Nagito’s cabin door in the middle of the night. Not that it mattered. There was no answer. Nagito was either sleeping deeply, or ignoring the knock.

He returned to his own cabin, the sight of Nagito’s mania still running through his mind.

Nagito was more affected by the Despair disease than the other two, and it had Hajime a little worried. Even though he had spent a few days trying not to care about Nagito, after the bullshit he pulled that led to the first trial, he couldn’t exactly forget that it was Nagito that had spoken the words that marked Hajime’s arm. That Nagito was his soulmate.

While he knew Tsumiki was with Mioda, he made his way into Nagito’s hospital room. He was actually awake, unlike the last time Hajime had seen him.

Nagito’s eyes lit up when he was Hajime.

“I don’t want to see Hinata-kun!” Nagito proclaimed. Hajime took a step back.

“I-I’m sorry. I’ll leave,” Hajime said.

“Hurry up and get out of here!” Nagito said as Hajime put his hand on the doorknob, ready to leave.

Rejected by his soulmate. That stung.

“Yeah, I get it,” Hajime murmured. He opened the door, ignoring the somewhat panicked sounds from Nagito. He was partway down the hallway when he stopped in his tracks.

He had the Liars disease.

How could he have forgotten? Everything out of Nagito’s mouth was a lie.

Did that mean he didn’t want Hajime to leave?

Hajime immediately turned around and went back to Nagito’s room. Nagito was sitting up on his hospital bed, holding his knees up to his chest.

“I’m sorry. I forgot you had the Liars disease,” Hajime said softly.

“No I don’t. Everything I say is the truth,” Nagito said. Hajime moved closer to the bed, inspecting Nagito closer. He was sweating, and when Hajime put a hand to his forehead, he still had a fever.

“You’re not doing too well, are you?” Hajime asked rhetorically.

“I’m great! Never felt better!” Nagito exclaimed, before letting out a soft groan. Hajime sighed, and moved the chair closer to Nagito’s bed, sitting down. Nagito yawned, and it was clear he was getting quite tired, the small amount of interaction that he and Hajime had over-exerting him.

“I don’t want Hinata-kun near me,” Nagito said tiredly. Hajime smiled a little, and patted his arm. He was having a better time understanding Nagito now than he ever had before.

“I’ll sit with you until nighttime,” Hajime said. Nagito yawned again.

“I don’t want you to touch me,” he murmured. Hajime said nothing in response, and simply traced the words on Nagito’s left arm softly as Nagito fell back to sleep.

Hajime felt like he was going to throw up. Nagito was dead. He was dead. He was dead he was dead hewasdeadhewasdeadhewasdead…

“Hey! Hinata!”

Hajime looked up to see Kuzuryu trying to get his attention. Right. They had to solve this murder. They had to find the person who had killed Nagito. The person who had killed his soulmate.

He inspected the body for clues, being gentle. He pulled up Nagito’s sleeve, looking to see the words that Hajime had spoken to him, but they had been cut into. They were gone.

He closed his eyes, a teardrop falling and splashing onto the knife wound on Nagito’s arm, vowing to find who had done this. It was the only promise he could make.

Discreetly, he wiped his eyes before returning to the investigation.

The rocking was calming. Not that Izuru wasn’t calm in the first place, but he could see how it would be calming. A nice feeling. Familiar over time, even boring.

“Do you… like ships?”

Izuru looked over at the person occupying this room with him. He cocked his head slightly.

“…Ships?”

He looks around, glancing out the small window.

“Ah, that’s right… that’s it. This is a ship.”

There was no response from the white haired man. Just a blank stare until a burble of manic laughter escaped his mouth. Izuru waited for it to ease off. It would.

“Ha, sorry for laughing,” the man said. “It’s just, you’re one of us, right? But I’ve never met you before,. Aand you just said my words. Well, one of my words.” He rolled up his right sleeve, to show a simple ‘ships?’ in elegant writing. Izuru looked at it for a moment. He glanced down to his right arm, and looked at the words he’d never paid much attention to.

‘Do you like ships?’

“Oh.”

“Did you not realise?” the man said. Izuru shrugged, and now, interest somewhat piqued, looked at his other arm. ‘Hey can you hear me?’ was scrawled across, in the same handwriting as the other. He couldn’t be certain, the word ‘you’ and the letters ‘h’ and ‘e’ the only things in common, but they certainly looked like the same handwriting.

“Did you ever meet someone called Hajime Hinata?” Izuru asked. The man shook his head with a confused expression.

“Should I have?” he asked. Izuru chose not to answer, instead returning to looking out the window.

“Well, since we’re soulmates, I’m Nagito Komaeda,” the man said, getting closer to Izuru. As he did so, Izuru took a moment to inspect Komaeda. He looked sick. Around his neck, Izuru could see a mark, showing that he’d recently been chained. Ah, so he’d been the Servant to the Warriors of Hope. Izuru had seen him from a distance before, never having a need to talk to him.

He still didn’t have a need to talk to him.

His left arm was not what one would expect. Izuru knew it immediately as Junko Enoshima’s arm.

Komaeda must have caught him looking at the arm, and spoke up.

“Ahaha, I took her power! The one I hate most, my sworn enemy!” Komaeda said, looking crazed.

“How boring,” was Izuru’s only response. Taking parts from Enoshima, how typical of a Remnant. How dull. He didn’t pay any attention to Komaeda’s reaction to his words. It didn’t matter.

“How unlucky for my soulmate to think I’m boring! Ahaha, just my luck! I meet him, and then he thinks I’m boring! Ahaha!” Komaeda started to devolve into manic laughter again.

How predictable.

“Look, that’s it,” Komaeda said after his laughter stopped, “That’s Jabberwock Island right? I wonder what will happen to us.” Izuru said nothing. He knew exactly what would happen, but there was no reason to share it with Komaeda.

Komaeda turned to look back at Izuru, speaking again, “Will we talk when we’re there?”

“There will be no reason for us to meet again,” Izuru replied, watching the hopeful look on Komaeda’s face disappear in a flash. Soulmates were for the ordinary people. Something to give them hope. Izuru didn’t need one, didn’t care.

He didn’t even hesitate to put the virus into the simulation, soulmate there or not.

Hajime was working hard to wake everyone up, of course. He cared about all of these people, he wanted them all to wake.

But when he wasn’t working on that, he was sitting at Nagito’s pod.

He got a few questioning looks from the others about his choice, but no questions for a few days. It was Souda who finally broke that silence.

“Why do you keep hanging out at his pod?” he asked, gesturing towards the pod. Hajime glanced down at Nagito before looking up to meet Souda’s eyes.

“He’s my soulmate,” Hajime said quietly. Souda opened his mouth, looking stunned.

“What? Komaeda?” Souda asked, shaking his head, “Did you – did you know when – in there?” He gestured around him, towards the main computer of the Neo World Program. Hajime nodded.

“Yeah. We hadn’t met before. That was our first meeting,” Hajime said, then gave a small laugh, “Though he met Kamukura. They’re soulmates too. Well, both of me is Nagito’s soulmate. Does that even make sense?” He shakes his head. Waking up had been a shock, a force of memories shoved on to him, so many from Izuru. The one he held onto was Izuru and Nagito meeting.

“Shit. I’m sorry. When he was – well. That must have been hard,” Souda said, a surprising amount of sympathy coming from him. Of course, he didn’t actually say the words ‘when he was dead’, but Hajime knew what he meant.

“Yeah.” Hajime confirmed before turning back to Nagito. He looked so peaceful in the pod. Looking at him you would never know the violent death he had experienced in the simulation.

His eyes moved down to look at Junko’s arm still attached. He wanted desperately to remove it, but knew it would be best to wait until Nagito woke. He didn’t know what would happen if they did anything while they were still connected to the program. It wasn’t worth the risk, no matter how much it hurt to know that Nagito had replaced his words with Junko’s arm.

When Nagito was awake, Hajime would make him a new arm. One with his words on them. He should have that.

Nagito was avoiding Hajime. That was the only explanation for why Hajime had barely seen Nagito since waking from the Neo World Program. He didn’t know why. He wanted to confront Nagito, do something about it, but instead he poured his time and effort into making a new arm for him. Izuru’s talents were really useful for that.

That was the only way Izuru was useful. That part of him didn’t want to bother Nagito. Thought it would be best to leave him alone. Didn’t even want him.

The two halves of him weren’t working together, but he was trying. Trying to work with Izuru and Hajime, trying to reconcile them into who he was now. Trying to move forward, and trying to figure out a way to sort things out with Nagito.

It didn’t take Hajime long to finish the arm (or was it Izuru? Hajizuru? Hajime didn’t know who he was anymore), the words ‘I… just leave me alone’ marked into it. Maybe he didn’t like that those were his first words to Nagito, but they were important. They were their words. Nagito should have them.

Hajime was nervous as he approached Nagito’s room. He held the arm gently, almost lovingly as he knocked on the door, hoping that Nagito would answer. He let out a slight sigh of relief when Nagito opened the door.

“Oh. Hinata-kun,” Nagito said quietly.

“I… uh… have something for you,” Hajime said, holding up the mechanical arm just as he realised how strange that probably looked. Nagito looked at the arm and then at the stump of his own arm, the Junko arm having been removed almost immediately after Nagito woke.

“I don’t deserve something like that,” Nagito said, avoiding looking at Hajime’s face.

“Well, I made it for you. Would you let my work be a waste?” Hajime asked. He glanced behind Nagito into his room. It was fairly bare still, nothing added to make it Nagito’s. “Can I come in? We – we should talk.”

Nagito shrugged, and stepped aside to let Hajime in. Hajime sat on the chair against the window while Nagito stayed standing, leaning against the wall next to the door.

“I-I’m glad you’re not dead,” Hajime said, immediately closing his eyes and flushing, wondering why the hell he had said that.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” Nagito repeated Hajime’s words.

“I… um… god I don’t know what to say,” Hajime said.

“You’re the one who said we need to talk,” Nagito pointed out, sounding entirely unamused.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Hajime said. Nagito shrugged in response, and Hajime sighed. Great. So it was going to be like this.

“Please, Nagito, whatever it is, you can talk to me. You don’t have to avoid me,” Hajime said, pleading slightly.

“I should avoid you. I don’t deserve to breathe the same air as you,” Nagito said. Hajime stood up, crossing the room.

“What are you talking about?” Hajime asked softly.

“I’m worthless garbage, and you – you’re incredible,” Nagito said, his eyes lighting up slightly, “You’re the most amazing person on earth. How could I – why should I get to be near you, let alone be your soulmate?”

Hajime sighed. He knew Nagito’s self-deprecating tendencies were going to be an issue for them to work through. This was just the beginning.

“Forget about that then,” Hajime said, placing the mechanical arm on the bed and moving closer to Nagito, “Forget about the soulmates thing, and we can just move on together. You think I don’t have my own issues? I don't even know who I am anymore.” He gave a small, bitter laugh.

“How?” Nagito whispered, “How can I forget when Kamukura’s words are still there? How can I forget when every time I look at my arm stump I remember Hinata’s words? I can’t forget that. Even though I don’t deserve it.”

Hajime turned around and took the prosthetic off the bed, and held it out towards Nagito so that he could read the words so carefully printed on to it. Nagito looked at it for a long moment before meeting Hajime’s eyes, a tear running down his cheek.

“Why?” Nagito choked out.

“Because it’s important. It’s – it’s us. Ours. And I wanted you to still have it. Even if the words are the opposite of how I feel,” Hajime said.

“’Opposite’?” Nagito questioned.

“I don’t want you to leave me alone. I want you to be close. I – I saw you dead. I lost you. I want you with me, always,” Hajime said. His eyes were burning with an intensity he hadn’t felt since waking from the Neo World Program.

Nagito stared at Hajime for a moment before falling into Hajime’s arms, hugging him and starting to sob heavily. Hajime ran his hand up and down Nagito’s back, trying to soothe him.

Despite the circumstances, there was something just right about having Nagito in his arms.

Hajime didn’t know how long he held Nagito, how long he comforted him. They both had a lot of trauma, but they would work through it. Together.

#komahina #komahinaweek2020 #my fics #my fic #kamukoma #hajime hinata #nagito komaeda #izuru kamukura

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totally-incorrect-theatre-quotes · 5 years ago

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Sick Day (fanfic)

While the votes were very close the sick day prompt won out last night, and I was kinda grateful because I had already started writing some of it before I got most of the votes. I’m sure you guys were looking for something more fluffy since my last fic was nothing but sadness and while I delivered some what this is still gonna be kinda sad, but I promise it has a sweet ending! I’m not sure if I’ll post this one to Ao3 but we’ll see :)

TW: sickness, mentions of death, mentions of Nosocomephobia

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The one thing that makes getting the flu even worse is getting the flu during spring break. No missing school because school is already out, so the days off just get wasted laying in bed with one stuffed up nostril, a pile of tissues sprawled on the bed, and the blankets half n and half off because it’s somehow both too hot and too cold. Lydia didn’t get sick often, but when she did it was never fun. Two days before she had felt a fever coming on but decided not to say anything because she still wanted to hang out with Wendy that night, but the next morning she woke up shivering and turns out she had a temperature of one hundred and two. Not the end of the world, but to say Lydia was annoyed was an understatement. Growing up her dad was always paranoid about germs, something Lydia thankfully didn’t inherit, but she still didn’t want to deal with him, lovingly, quarantining her. She took the thermometer, wrapped herself in a blanket, and went to seek the guidance of the ghosts. Ghosts can’t get sick, so they should have nothing to worry about.

Barbara instantly pulled Lydia over to the couch while Adam ran around frantically trying to think of what sick people need, even though all Lydia asked for was a drink of water and maybe some Tylenol to bring her fever down. She ended up with a bowl of chicken noodle soup, slippers, about four different kinds of flu medication, and a cold compress. The first night she just slept on their couch, begrudgingly comfortable as a result of all the stuff Adam brought up to the attic. She would wake up every hour or so feeling crappy but she did get some sleep that night, hoping that maybe she was just tired and not actually sick, she read that online somewhere before. Unfortunately, when she woke up the next morning she definitely was still sick and it was not getting better as quickly as she would have liked. Her throat was all scratchy, she had a terrible headache, and she felt her body burning up under the blankets. She kicked the blankets off her and winced when her warm feet touched the freezing cold ground, she forgot that the Maitland’s couldn’t really feel the temperature so it was always a guess if it would be a sauna or the arctic up there. She coughed into her arm and shuffled downstairs to grab something small to eat, even though she was sick to her stomach she knew that she couldn’t take any medicine on an empty stomach. She managed to eat about half a piece of toast before feeling like she was going to puke, and she quickly swallowed down two pills. She sat down at the table with her head in her hands.

“Not feeling good?” Delia asked form behind her, Lydia simply groaned in response her throat too sore to even speak at this point, “Yeah I heard the flu was going around, I thought you got your flu shot though?”

She rolled her eyes not wanting to get into the debate of how the flu shot isn’t 100% effective and if she hadn’t gotten it she would be much sicker than she was right now. Instead, she just let Delia ramble on about what essential oils and crystals she thought might help ease the symptoms. It was almost soothing monotony as Lydia downed her second glass of orange juice hoping that maybe the extra vitamin C would destroy whatever virus was wreaking havoc on her immune system. Instead, it just made her stomach feel worse. By the time her father came down for the morning Lydia was almost passed out leaning on the table despite the fact she had just woken up maybe fifteen minutes before. Charles walked up to his unusually pale daughter and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead.

“Honey, you’re burning up.”

“I‘ve got a fever.” she mumbled, “Barbara thinks it’s the flu.”

Charles stopped dead in his tracks, he didn’t mean too but he couldn’t help himself from thinking about the past, and what signs he had missed, and now he was starting to overreact. This was a flu, people get the flu all the time, not every fever is a death sentence. Not every stomach bug is a sign of...he wasn’t going to let himself get sucked into it again. He didn’t want to frighten Lydia. Besides she knew as much about the whole ordeal as he did, if she thought something more besides a flu was wrong she would have told him. He forced himself to put on a sympathetic smile, “I’m sorry sweetheart, I hope you feel better soon. Will you be okay if I go to work?”

Lydia nodded knowing fully well that even when Delia and her dad went to work she still had the Maitland’s in the attic if she needed them. Her plan for the day was to either pass out on the couch or in her bed under all the blankets and preferably with her cats to keep her company so she didn’t feel obligated to make conversation. The first day or two of the flu was usually the worst, so she just wanted to sleep through it. She could see the look in her dad’s eyes though, he was worried about her. It would have come off to most people as fatherly or even endearing but to Lydia, it was nothing but a source of anxiety when her father worried about her like that. She sighed a breath of relief when he did eventually go off to work. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, scooped up Cation in her arms and figured if Kraken was roaming somewhere around the house and would come join them whenever she saw fit. She had just about settled on her bed when her phone went off and she saw a text from her father asking if she was alright. She replied with a quick yes, hoping it would satisfy him for now, but she was rewarded with a series of four more texts asking if she needed anything, if she wanted to go to the doctor, if he should come home, and once more asking if she was feeling okay. Not wanting to fuel his compulsive questions but not wanting to make him even more worried she tried to reassure him that if something bad was happening he would be the first to know, she did also gave to his one question and requested some popsicles for her sore throat.

She put her phone on silent, started watching a movie on her laptop and drifted off to sleep after about forty-five minutes. She wasn’t sure if it was the fever or the flu medication she had taken but she had the strangest dream, and that was a statement coming from the girl who lived with ghosts, and had been to the underworld before. It was nothing out of the ordinary at first, she was at school but instead of all the uniforms being white button-up shirts and black plaid skirts/ black pants they were an ugly green and yellow color. The details were fuzzy but the dream ended with her math teacher marrying the Sandworm and somehow Lydia was the maid of honor. It was very confusing but also entertaining so Lydia was slightly annoyed when she was woken up by a particular demon whom she had forgotten she had promised to hang out with the afternoon.

“Sorry BJ, I can’t really hang out today unless your idea of hanging out was sitting on the couch and watching TV while I pretty much sleep the whole day.”

“What the hell is wrong with you kid? You look like you saw a ghost.” BJ laughed very hard at his own joke and even though she was super out of it she still had it within her to fake gag at his lame attempt at comedy.

“I’m sick.”

“Well, that’s pretty pathetic. I were you and I was still a living human I simply wouldn’t be incapacitated because of some bitch-ass virus Like RIP to you but I’m different.”

“You’re also already dead and didn’t you live like during the black plague?”

“And that sure as hell didn’t kill me. It would take a lot more so some dumb virus to take me now.”

“I think the plague was bacterial,” Lydia replied, straining her voice to argue with him. Under no circumstances would she not argue with Beetlejuice.

“Same difference,” he waved his hand dismissively, “Anyway since you aren’t going to be any fun today while you milk this fake illness I’m going to go bug the Maitland’s. And while you’re at it...can you tell that bastard cat of yours to stop staring at me? It gives me the creeps.”

“Don’t be a jerk, Kraken loves you!” Lydia snapped defensively, pulling her cat up and presenting it to BJ, “She’s just a baby…”

“Look, there’s only room for one bastard in this house and that role is already taken.” BJ glared once more at the cat who seemed utterly indifferent to the presence of the demon. He walked through Lydia’s door but just to be a prick when he was outside of it he opened it partway and flipped her off. Grumbling Lydia got up to shut the door, hoping she’d be able to fall asleep again. She couldn’t, her cough was getting worse and it was making it impossible to lay down comfortably without feeling like she couldn’t breathe. She had to compromise and sit up in bed with her pillows stacked up behind her. She watched the clock with an almost obsession counting down the minutes before she could take another dose of the cough medicine and get some kind of relief from the symptoms. By the evening it felt as though she had been hit by a bus. Her muscles ached, she could hardly keep her eyes open, and her whole body felt like it was on fire. Barbara had tried to make her something for lunch but she could only manage a few bites before pushing the rest of it away, even the smell making her feel like she was going to throw up.

“Maybe you should see a doctor when your dad gets home.” Adam suggested, “Not much they can do for the flu but maybe the can give you something stronger for your cough just so you can get some sleep tonight.”

“I’ll be fine!” Lydia snapped a little too harshly, “I’ll be fine, it’s just the flu. I don’t need to go to the doctor.” Adam backed off and left Lydia alone in her room. She couldn’t stop shivering even though she was boiling under the blankets. Her teeth clattered against each other and she felt a dizzying pressure building up in her forehead and sinuses. The hours in the day seemed to drag on with cruelty, she tried to distract herself with videos on her phone but she couldn’t keep focused on them long enough. She wanted to sleep but every time she was about to drift she would need to cough or her stomach would get upset, or her head would start pounding. She would alternate between her bedroom and the attic but nothing was comfortable. By the time her father and Delia got home from work Lydia was huddled out on the couch, her knees tucked into her chest and she was muttering feverishly in her half-awake half-asleep daze.

Charles rushed over to Lydia and his heart sank down to his stomach as images of Emily flashed through his head. He felt Lydia’s forehead and quickly grabbed the thermometer to check her temperature. He was devastated to read out that Lydia had a temperature of one hundred and three. Instantly fearing the worst he shook Lydia awake and told her that they were going to the hospital.

“Wait, what?” Lydia mumbled, still not completely aware

“The hospital, you’re burning up. You look like you’re about to faint, come on get your coat and shoes on. Can you walk?”

“Can I wh-? What are you talking about, of course, I can walk. Dad for god sake I have the flu. I feel like crap but I am not dying!” Charles tensed at those words and Lydia glared at him, shakily standing up with the blanket still draped around her shoulders

“Lydia, you’re not making sense. Please, just for me. Can we just please go to the hospital, I’m worried about you.”

“Dad you’re being ridiculous right now! You’re always worried about me!”

“I’m your father! It is my job to worry about you, now can you please get in the car so I can take you.” He was begging her at that point, he didn’t know what overcame him and Lydia wasn’t sure why she was so opposed. She felt awful, a fever at high was not a good thing, she logically knew that there was nothing wrong with going to a doctor but some part of her was shouting at her not to. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and she didn’t understand why, she wasn’t upset she was annoyed. She was annoyed at him for being so overbearing. Charles noticed this and went over to her, she slumped into his arms just taking in the much-needed hug. Lydia just kept repeating that she didn’t want to go to the hospital, and he nodded, “Okay, okay no hospital alright? But can we please go to the doctor or the urgent care? Honey, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

After a brief and silent car ride Lydia was sitting in the urgent care waiting room with a mask over her mouth and nose to keep her from contaminating anybody else in the waiting room. It was already dark outside and Lydia leaned up against her father’s shoulder while they waited to be called back. She stared blankly at the wall trying to ignore the fact he was staring at her, even though we was pretending to scroll through his phone. He had one arm wrapped around her, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly and while she wanted to be stubborn and pull away she really did find comfort in him holding her. He was never unaffectionate while she was growing up, he would give piggyback rides and carry her, and hug her but he was slightly more distant since her mother had died, any kind of affection she got from him was cherished, even if she wanted to be a sullen teenager.

“Deetz?” the male nurse called out

Charles helped steady Lydia while they walked into the examination room. They took her temperature and Charles explained a list of symptoms after Lydia tried too but couldn’t speak as clearly as she was trying to. The nurse scribbled some notes down, swabbed the inside of Lydia’s mouth and said that the doctor would be in shortly

“Man they take you from one waiting room to another huh?” Charles tried to joke in an attempt to ease the tension. Lydia was having none of it and she kept her eyes down on her phone while she was ranting to Barbara about how annoyed at her father she was. Though Barbara quickly proved to not be the ideal ranting partner in this situation so she turned to BJ who she knew would always agree with her no matter was as long as he got to complain too. After another twenty minutes of waiting the doctor came in holding a sheet of paper in her hands, “Bad news, you definitely have the flu young lady. Luckily it looks like it’s a mild strain even though I know it sure doesn’t feel like it huh? I’m going to prescribe you something to help you with that cough and something to work on killing the infection. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

Lydia was about to shake her head no when Charles interjected, “Are you sure it’s just the flu?”

“Pretty positive, flu swabs are fairly accurate why?”

“But you’re sure it’s not something else, like something I don't know..” “He wants to know if you think I have cancer.” Charles jolted his head and looked at Lydia with such disbelief that she had to scoff, “Don’t act so shocked dad, that’s what you want to know. You want to know if I have what mom had.” She turned her attention back to the doctor and in her strained and scratchy voice, she said, “My mom she had non-Hodgkins lymphoma and apparently she started out with just flu symptoms too, she died. He’s worried that I’m going to die too, so can you just tell me if I do or don’t have cancer?”

Stunned the doctor fumbled a response, “Mr. Deetz Lydia has the flu. I am truly sorry for your loss and while I cannot say for absolute certain without doing blood tests I am fairly confident that Lydia simply has the flu. She doesn’t have any of the other tell-tale symptoms of the condition that your wife had. Now, do you have any other questions?”

“Yeah can I go home now?” Lydia demanded

The whole ride back home Lydia sat with her arms crossed and her head leaned against the car window. Her father wouldn’t talk to her, she wouldn’t talk to him. It was obvious to everybody else that something happened between them the minute they walked in the door. Lydia instantly went towards the stairs but Charles went after her, insisting that they need to talk. She waved her hand and slammed her door shut, complaining that she didn’t feel good and wanted to go to bed. She didn’t lock the door though, she knew it made everybody in the house angry if she locked the door when they were fighting. They respected not to come in if she didn’t invite them, but the rule was not door locking. She curled back up on her bed, cuddling with a chatty Kraken who was already lounging on her mattress. Within thirty seconds there was a knock at her door, and she threw her pillow at it in response.

“Lydia we need to talk about this, we need to talk about what you said at the doctor today.”

“What I said?” She laughed shaking her head, “Just come in dad, I know you’re not going to go away until you do and I feel like shit and want to go to bed so let’s get this over with.”

Charles cautiously opened the door and sat down on the edge of Lydia’s bed, mindful of the collection of tissues and bottles accumulating throughout the room. Having felt better since taking the medication the doctor prescribed she sat up in her bed and looked at her dad, waiting for him to scold her for behaving like a child in the doctors. She wouldn’t deny it, she acted very immaturely but she was so sick of how he was treating her that day.

“Can we talk about it?” she questioned, “That’s what you wanted isn’t it?”

“I wanted to say I was sorry, Lydia. I know that I probably made things a lot worse for you. I know you aren’t feeling good and I didn’t mean to scare you with the whole...anyway it doesn’t matter the details. I shouldn’t have overreacted when you told me it was the flu, I trust you to know your body. I just don’t know what came over me, seeing you looking so sick and pale, it had me terrified. I just couldn’t imagine losing you too.”

“Dad I’m okay.” she tried to explain, “I’m fine.”

“I just, I don’t understand why you got so worried when I suggested you go to the hospital, you had a really high fever. Lydia, I understand that our relationship is going to require a certain give and take but when it comes to safety I think we need to make some more compromises. I was probably jumping to conclusions when I thought the worst but even the nurse was concerned when he saw how high it was, we should have gone to the hospital.”

“I didn’t want to go to the hospital.”

“But I don’t understand why.”

“Yes, you do! And it kills me that you can’t understand it, you think it scares you when you see me getting sick and having the same symptoms mom did, imagine how I feel! I am terrified any time I get a cold or I have a stomach bug or even a bad headache because I worry that the same thing that happened to mom is gonna happen to me. I know there’s a genetic link, it’s not a high one but it scares me too dad but the thing is you’re supposed to be the calm one. You’re supposed to be the one convincing me it’s just the flu and that I’ll be okay in a few days, I shouldn’t have to convince not only me but my father too. Any time I’m sick I dread telling you because I know exaclty how you’re going to react. That’s not good dad! It’s making me afraid to come to you and god forbid I do get sick like that how long am I going to unintentionally ignore the symptoms because I’m afraid to tell you! I don’t want to go to the hospital dad because I’m afraid I might not come back, and I know that’s crazy. I know I’m being dramatic but that’s what happened with mom. She was fine one day and the next day you’re driving me to the hospital and she tells me she has maybe a few weeks to live? Can’t you get why I might not like hospitals so much anymore?” Lydia was trembling slightly now weak from the flu and the medication she was on, “There’s a line in the sand dad, there has to be because the worst part about being sick right now is that you looking at me like you might blink and I’ll be dead. Do you no understand how stressful that is?”

He bowed his head, “Lydia I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you but it’s been so hard since Emily died to not go right to the worst-case scenario.”

“And I do the exact same thing, but the difference dad is that I’m your kid. I need you to have a level head about this, and I don’t mean to just attack you because you all kind of do it. You all smother me with attention when I’m sick or hurt, I love you all but it’s suffocating sometimes when all I need is to stay in bed and take some Tylenol.”

“I’m sorry, I’m going to try harder to be better about it, alright? I promise, but I need you to promise me that you won’t hide things from me. Your mom tried to mask the signs, tell me she was okay, and not that it would have saved her but you can’t lie to me alright? We’re in this together, okay?”

Lydia nodded and hugged her father, rubbing at her eyes both in fatigue and in an attempt to clear away the tears welling up in her eyes. For the rest of the night, she and Charles sat in the living room wrapped in blankets, watching reruns of old movies on the television. Lydia burrowed her head the crook of his arms and eventually dozed off into the first peaceful sleep she managed to get that day. Though he was incredibly uncomfortable in that position he just relished in the closeness he felt in that moment. He couldn’t help but to remember when Lydia was small and he and Emily would spend hours trying to soothe the fussy baby, both of them completely exhausted when she would finally fall asleep but neither of them able to look away from the tiny human they had created. She was so grown up now, so funny and intelligent, wise beyond her years, but despite all of that when he looked down at his sleeping daughter’s face he could still see that little baby he cradled all those years ago.

#lydia deetz #delia deetz #adam maitland #barbara maitland #charles deetz #lawrence beetlejuice shoggoth #presley ryan #sophia anne caruso #dana steingold #leslie kritzer #kerry butler #rob mcclure #alex brightman #incorrect beetlejuice quotes #beetlejuice #beetlegeuse #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice fanfic #beetlejuice fanfiction

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irate-pirate-bi-27 · 5 years ago

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Quarantine tag game

Thanks for the tag @tyty-blackthorn <3 <3 <3

are you staying home from school/work?

Yes, i am officially on quarantine as of today. My school’s got a pupil free week next week and after that is Easter holidays!

if you're staying home, who's there with you?

My sister and sometimes my mum, cause she works part time. Also my cat, two dogs, bird, many fish, and tarantula :)

are you a homebody?

Yes, but I do enjoy going out on hikes and doing stuff with friends during the holidays, which I can't really do now

an event that you were looking forward to that got cancelled?

Not really an event but I was hoping me and my friends could go out to a gay bar for my 18th birthday in July, but if things stay the way they are then that might not happen. I’ll just have my birthday party in Minecraft instead

what movies have you watched recently?

Not many because of school, but I did watch this movie from the 70′s that I loved when I was a kid called Dot And The Kangaroo. On reassessment, I think it’s a little bit (just a tiny bit) racist to aboriginal culture, but tbh it’s still better than most movies from that time and it was trying it’s best. I still like it for its good parts but recognise it was a little problematic

what shows are you watching?

I’m catching up on Last Week Tonight with John Oliver and I started watching I Am Not Okay With This but am yet to finish it. Also a whole bunch of true crime documentaries because I am very white and they are easy to watch while doing assignments.

what are you reading?

I just finished Animal Farm by George Orwell about an hour ago (what a fucking book, btw), I’m partway through This Present Darkness by Frank E. Perreti for this school bookclub thing I’m in (but I probably won't finish it because It Is So Fucking Bad, Y’all. The characters are boring, it’s a “thriller” but has absolutely no suspense, the dialogue is terrible, all the important main characters are men, and the only women are... well it’s very clear they were written by a man, I’ll say that. Anyway, rant over), and I’ve just started The Book Of M by Peng Shepherd. There’s also about 3-5 more books on my shelf that I’ve started but haven't gotten around to finishing yet.

what are you doing for self-care?

What the fuck is self-care? Looking after yourself in order to stay ““happy””? Sounds fake but okay. jk I’ve been trying to keep my sleep schedule in check and doing things that keep my creativity up like craft and writing. Other than that tho, not much. But I’ll try to do better in the next few weeks ig

tagging:

@tallulalusa @tired-and-dumb @bruxatriz @someonewilldietoday @skateth-fasteth-eateth-assteth @ronnie-loves-bees @mercrutiodidntdieforthis @foreverasidecharacter @too-many-fandoms-too-count @birdo-wants-die and anyone else who sees this and wants to join in. I'm sorry I barely interact with most of you guys, honestly i just went through my notifications and whoever showed up a lot I tagged. i know i don't talk to y'all but i wanna let u know that you're seen and i love you :))))))

#tag game #quarantine

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janelevy · 5 years ago

Note

"If you don't want to talk about what happened, then say so. Don't just lie and say it's fine" + your choice

feel free to send me an ask/message me with any ava bekker related prompts! i’ll take anything sfw, platonic or romantic, with or without any other med characters.

summary: sarah’s acting weird late one night after work, and ava can’t get to the bottom of it. ((since it was left to my choice, i went with reesker because i wanted to try my hand at writing them. thanks for the request camila!

warnings: implied assault at the very end

It only became apparent something was amiss when Sarah refused to walk through the hospital parking lot at night anymore.

Ava had driven them to work that morning, and her girlfriend had been fine then. Sarah was flashing that smile of hers, but flashing wasn’t even the right word to describe it because her smile was too sweet and gentle to be flashy. Sarah had talked to her that morning in the car, sitting in the passenger seat, messing with the radio until she found the soft rock station she liked.

But now it was night and dripping shadows dappled the parking lot like puddles of oil. A handful of weak lampposts dotted the path to where Ava’s red Volkswagen was parked, and in the distance Ava could see her car waiting for them behind a cloak of dim, uninviting light. She could certainly understand the creepiness this scene gave off - but everyone at Gaffney was used to it, had accepted the fact that any broken or failing light bulbs would take weeks to be replaced. The staff parking lot was dimly lit and a bit unsettling at night, and that was that.

So why was Sarah now next to her, shuddering and hugging herself like they stood before a haunted house? Ava frowned and lightly rested a hand on her shoulder, only to be violently shrugged off.

“Reese cup, what is it?” Ava asked softly. “Reese cup” was a silly pet name she had thought of a million years ago when they got together. It was based on the candy, of course, because Sarah was the sweetest girl Ava had ever been with, and the only one who contrasted her bitterness so well. Sarah usually groaned when the name came up, and liked to point out that Ava disliked peanut butter (and Ava would then remind her she would choke down a thousand Reese’s peanut butter cups for her sake, and that would shut Sarah up); so Ava only saved it for certain occasions. This seemed as good an occasion as any.

Sarah barely acknowledged her, though. “Nothing,” she muttered. “I just... um... do you think you could, like, bring the car up here?” Brown eyes darted up to Ava’s face, where the concerned wrinkles in her forehead only deepened.

“Why?”

“I- I don’t want to walk all that distance. I’m sorry,” Sarah said.

Ava rolled her eyes, hoping to cut into some of the tension with teasing. “So you’re going to make me walk all that distance alone?”

That only appeared to make things worse. Sarah shifted her weight and tugged at the strap of her bag. She looked everywhere else but her girlfriend, and that was enough to convince Ava. She was too tired to provoke any conflict tonight. It had been a long shift with three back-to-back surgeries and she just wanted to go home and fall into bed with Sarah in her arms. If Sarah wanted Ava to bring the car right up to her Uber-style, then she sure as hell would do it.

“Okay, fine, hon. I’ll be back in a minute.” Ava lowered her head a little and captured Sarah’s eyes so they couldn’t wander off again. “Will you be alright here by yourself?”

Sarah nodded rapidly, relief coloring a blush into her cheeks. “Yes... as long as I’m in the light, I’ll be okay.”

Ava furrowed her brow at her, but she wasn’t offering any other info, so Ava turned and started toward the car. As she walked away, she could’ve sworn she heard Sarah repeat the phrase. “As long as I’m in the light...” What did that mean?

She made it to the car without incident, tossing her bag in the backseat. She would’ve offered to bring Sarah’s things with her too, but the younger woman had looked quite comfortable clinging to her bag for dear life as if it was the only thing keeping her from being sucked away by some invisible force. Ava had noticed that about her girlfriend; Sarah always liked having something to hold. If Ava’s hands weren’t immediately available to be clasped, or her hair wasn’t free to be stroked and loosely braided, Sarah needed something else to do with her hands. A clipboard to hold, a keyboard to type on, thighs to drum on absently.

Ava had been that way growing up, and she liked to think that was part of what made her a good surgeon - years of picking at pencil erasers in class had led up to nimble fingers on the operating table. Maybe, Ava thought as she backed out of the parking space and drove slowly up to the curb, the ghost of a surgeon’s fingers lived in Sarah’s hands. (Both of them knew how to use their fingers to melt the other into useless, blubbering puddles, after all.)

She braked and unlocked the door, allowing Sarah to hop inside. The second she was in and the door was closed again, Ava wasted no time getting out of there. She had one thing in mind, and it started with a bed and ended with the sweet, sweet release of REM sleep.

Well, no, she quickly reminded herself; she had two things in mind. She glanced over at Sarah, who was gazing out her window and picking at the lock on the door, because those hands could never stay still.

“Do you... want the radio on?” Ava asked hesitantly. She received a silent headshake in response.

“Sweetheart,” Ava implored. The silence was eating her alive like locusts. “Seriously, what’s the matter?”

Sarah bit her lip and picked off balls of lint from her sweater. “Nothing,” she said. “I’m fine.”

At this point they were just a few blocks away from Sarah’s apartment. The car rolled to a halt at a red light, and Ava turned on her. “Sarah, please listen to me. I don’t know what happened between the last time we drove to work together and now. But this isn’t you. Since when are you scared of the dark in the parking lot? Everyone knows it’s creepy there.”

“Because I just am!” Sarah snapped. It was so uncharacteristic of her, and Ava reeled back for a moment, grasping for words in empty air. Sarah wasn’t done, though. “I’m not your patient, Ava, you don’t have to question me! Why can’t I just tell you I’m fine and leave it at that?”

“I’m a surgeon, not a psychiatrist,” Ava said, her voice low, “but even a goldfish could tell you’re not acting yourself right now. I know you’re not telling me something important, Sarah, and I know you’re not okay.” The traffic light changed to green, and Ava floored the gas pedal a little more than she meant to. Over the roar of the car engine, she growled, “If you don’t want to talk about what happened, then say so. Don’t just lie and say it’s fine. Because I know that’s not the truth. If not all of it, then don’t I at least deserve some of the truth, rather than none of it?”

“Did I not make it obvious that I don’t want to talk about it?” Sarah whined, voice breaking partway through.

They were silent the entire rest of the way to the apartment. By the time Ava had parked a few minutes later, though, she recovered enough to say, “Baby, I’m sorry. I... shouldn’t have pushed you so much.”

Sarah wasn’t smiling, but she was once more softened again. Ava was relieved; she hadn’t liked the spiked edge to Sarah’s words earlier.

“It’s how you are. I get it,” Sarah murmured. Ava reached out to twist some of those irresistible curls around her index finger.

“I’m sorry,” she told her again, the apology feather-light.

Sarah nodded. “I’m not ready right now. But I’ll tell you... I’ll tell you what happened one day. I promise.”

They both leaned over the console, collapsing into a sniffling hug. Ava inhaled the scents of the hospital that had sunk into her girlfriend’s hair and clothes: stale coffee, faded hand sanitizer. Then an image was projected into her brain, something she hadn’t thought about in nearly a week. Sarah coming home later than expected last Wednesday, her sweater rumpled, jacket hanging off her hunched frame crookedly, and frizzed hair falling over a bruise that seemed to fade before Ava could find time to point it out.

And Ava realized she should have asked then.

#chicago med #ava bekker #sarah reese #reesker #fanfic

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bitletsanddrabbles · 5 years ago

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Downton Court: Out of Order

My main problem with sequential writing is that my brain will jam up on the scene/chapter/whatever that I’m on and skip merrily ahead to the next scene/chapter/whatever and never you mind that I can’t do that until I’ve finished what I’m on. It’s very annoying and the main reason I usually don’t start posting a piece until it’s 100% finished, betaed, etc.

As there are two scenes between where I left off and this thing that simply popped into my head earlier today, I normally wouldn’t put it up. However, I’m feeling blocked to the point I’m actually getting a bit of a headache over it, so maybe posting this will help jar things loose?

Especially since it’s a sort of “Meanwhile, back at the ranch...” sort of scene anyway, except we aren’t back on the ranch. We aren’t even in the hotel. We are, despite this being a Team Downstairs AU, in Lady Mary’s bedroom.

Oops.

There will undoubtedly be a few minor changes before the official version goes up.

Fandom: Downton Abbey

Characters: Mary Crawley, Matthew Crawley

Relationships: Mary Crawley/MatthewCrawley, Mary Crawley..... & Henry Talbot? /Henry Talbot? %Henry Talbot? Who knows?

Warnings: Married People Flirting Like Little Flirts, discussion of tabloids. Jokes about keeping a harem. Mary is horrid. Nothing in this scene is serious.

“I’m home!”

Mary looked in the mirror, still working her left earring into her ear, and smiled as her husband appeared in the reflection. “There you are! We were beginning to wonder if you’d make it back for dinner.”

“Traffic was hell,” Matthew replied, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it negligently on the bed. He waited until she’d gotten the earring in, then walked over and wrapped his arms around her from behind, planting a kiss against her cheek. “I swear, it took me an hour just to get out of London.” He released her, then went over to sit on the bed, as that was a better arrangement for talking.

“Next time you really should take the train. I know, it doesn’t allow you as much freedom to stop off somewhere if you like, but at least you don’t have to deal with traffic jams.” She gave him a smirk. “And I don’t know what we’d have done if you hadn’t made it in time. George has missed you so.” She emphasized their son’s name playfully.

“Only George?” Matthew asked, eyebrow raising, smiling back at her. “Well, in that case, maybe I should spend the time between now and dinner in the nursery.”

Mary laughed, reaching for the right earring. “Don’t you dare. After abandoning me for three days, leaving me to face Peter’s art show by myself, you had better stay here and make up for it by listening to me complain.”

“I can think of better ways to make up for it.”

That earned him an almost predatory look. “Not enough time. We can do that after dinner,” Mary purred.

“Fair enough. Was it truly dreadful? I figured you’d take Henry with you.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “I would have done, but there was a race somewhere and Charlie had gotten him tickets for his birthday ages ago, so I had to go alone. It was so annoying to be the only single one in the party, especially when I’m the only one who’s married!” Done with her dressing, she stood, smoothing down the front of her dress.

With a genuine wince, Matthew held out his arms to her. “I’m sorry, Darling. If it helps, we won the case.”

“If you hadn’t, I might have been forced to make you sleep on the sofa tonight.” Mary’s tone was teasing, but she still pressed her lips into a grim line as she walked over and let him wrap his arms around her waist. “It wasn’t too bad, though. We lost Peter partway through due to the champagne, so I got to chat with Adela a bit. And the paparazzi was absent, for the most part.”

Matthew nearly cringed. “For the most part?”

“Mmm. One weaseled her way in, but the staff got her by the scruff and threw her out again before she could say anything to me.” With a bit of a smirk, she ran her fingers up into his hair. “Perhaps it’s better that Henry wasn’t there. If he had been, we’d probably make headlines again.”

“What do you think it would be this time?” It had quickly become something of a game with them when the tabloids had, rather inexplicably they both thought, fallen in love with Mary - or at least her love life, guessing what scenario the writers would dream up next go around. “Our marriage is on it’s last leg, holding on by a thread and you’re going to leave me? Or we’re sharing him as our boy toy?”

“I’d like to think we were having a threesome, but they went with that last go around, so it would probably be the fight.” Mary shrugged. “Then again, at one point I swallowed a bit of champagne wrong and wound up a bit teary eyed. If they’d seen that, you might have been pronounced dead again. Probably a car wreck or something like that.” Growing tired of standing, she carefully perched on his lap, moving her arms to wrap around his waist the way his wrapped around hers. “There are days I want to just write them and announce that we have an open relationship. See what they do with that. Perhaps we could even send an advertisement with it. All interested parties contact Mary and Matthew Crawley, Downton, Yorkshire.”

“Mary!” Matthew managed a scandalized tone, but it was ruined by laughter. “You’re horrid! Can you imagine a bunch of poor, gullible men writing letters, asking to join your harem?”

“You’re just jealous because you think my harem would be bigger than yours,” she grinned at him, then kissed his nose. “You needn’t be, though. I’m certain you’d have just as many gullible young men writing you.”

“Mary-”

“And don’t forget the gullible young women.” She made a show of pausing, thinking things through. “We should come up with some guidelines, though. Make certain we agree on our harem standards in advance.”

“Mary!”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not picky about hair colour with men, but I could never date a woman with red hair. No matter how pretty or interesting she were, I’d always be reminded of Aunt Rosamund and I couldn’t do-” The sentence ended in an undignified squeak of protest and her husband rolled, pinning her between himself and the mattress, and kissed her. She half halfheartedly slapped his arm and as the the kiss came to an end, she scolded, “You’ll wrinkle my dress!”

“I suppose you’d have to punish me for that.”

“After dinner!”

#downton abbey #downton abbey fanfiction #downton court #mary crawley #lady mary #matthew crawley #no i don't like tabloids #why do you ask?#no clue what a percent sign would be in regards to relationships #which is why i used it

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the-everlasting-dream · 6 years ago

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The Way To Love Me (Part 2/2) - Drake

A/N: Once again, stemming from @ooo-barff-ooo and my extensive conversations about love languages, here is Drake’s version at long last. Tru be gentle, it was very late when I got to writing this.

Elizabeth’s Part

Word Count: 3800+

Warnings: Swearing

Permatags: @chantelle-x0x , @choicessa, @meeraaverywalker , @drakewalkerwhipped , @thewolvesss , @mfackenthal , @srawesleyghuewrites , @topsyturvy-dream , @enmchoices , @gardeningourmet @debramcg1106 , @alesana45 , @meladoridarcy, @blackcatkita , @tmarie82 , @annekebbphotography , @lizk77 , @jayjay879 , @tornbetween2loves , @akrenich , @theroyalweisme , @likethetailofacomet , @sleepwalkingelite , @littleblossom-18 , @ooo-barff-ooo , @drakewalker04 , @mkatschoicesblog , TRR only: @speedyoperarascalparty , @carabeth ,

Drake: @fairydustandsarcasm , @drakewalkerisreal

The sound of an alarm on a Saturday morning would always be the single most annoying sound a person could ever hear, Drake Walker concluded as he groggily reached for the tiny clock on the nightstand, jabbing the off button roughly before collapsing back onto the bed. He took a contented deep breath now that the annoyance had been apprehended and rolled onto his other side.

His hand snaked onto the other side of the bed, searching for his wife of five months, knowing how much she loved to sleep in. Usually he’d be the one gently shaking her awake, reminding her not to be late, cajoling her and using every method at his disposal to make sure she woke up and stayed up but not today. Today, for once he could join her instead of being called away by their many priorities and way too many easy starts, he seemed out her warmth, ready to pull her in close to his chest like he knew she loved being held and they would slowly wake up together maybe eve- His fingers brushed on empty air and his eyes slid open to find Elizabeth’s side of the bed bare, covers ripped back, sheets cold in her absence. Drake sat up in confusion, rubbing his sleepy eyes as he scanned the rest of the room.

‘Walker?’

There was no response so he called again.

‘Walker? Elizabeth?’

He frowned. It was highly unlike her to be up and out of the room before him and just for good measure he went to check the ensuite they shared, in case she might be in there but nope. There was no sign of her.

‘Huh,’ Drake thought to himself, running a hand through his messy hair, feeling a little odd at her absence as he shuffled back to grab his phone from the bedside table, checking to see if she’d left a message but the last message in their chat was him asking what time she’d be home the night before. Frowning he pushed the call button and held the phone to his ear as it began to dial. The phone kept ringing and ringing and just as Drake was getting suspicious, Elizabeth picked up.

‘… yep, those are the one’s I mean. Put them on my desk and I’ll go through them,’ he heard her voice, obviously preoccupied with something else before she turned her attention to him. ‘Hello?’

‘Walker, where are you?’ He questioned, unable to fathom where she could be at this hour of — he glanced at the clock — barely 8am.

‘I’m at the palace, Drake,’ she replied, sounding far away. ‘I told you last night, I needed to get in early today to reorganise the plans for the charity ball.’

‘On a Sunday?’

Elizabeth chuckled slightly,’You said the exact same thing last night. Do you need something? I thought you’d want to sleep in on your day off?’

He was about to answer when he heard her talking to someone else again. ‘Liz?’

‘Yeah, sorry I’m here. What were you saying?’

‘You asked why I wasn’t sleeping in,’ Drake reminded her lamely.

‘Hmm?’

He sighed, feeling like she was barely even paying attention to him as he could hear things being shuffled around on her side of the phone. ‘Forget about it. What time will you be back? I thought we could take a ride down to the lake today.’

‘Sounds great babe. I’ll try get off early and we can hang out,’ she answered him vaguely. ‘I’ll text you. I gotta go. Love you.’

Drake barely had a chance to reply before she clicked off the call and he was left alone in the empty bedroom. He sighed, running a hand over his face. Elizabeth was a passionate woman, especially when it came to education. Drake knew it held a very special place in her mind that Cordonian children could have full and equal access to education and be able to pursue the careers they wanted, a sentiment stemming from her own experience with her father and the four years of medical school she’d suffered through at his behest. Drake couldn’t be prouder at the changes his wife was already installing her short time as duchess, she’d found her niche, something she was good at that would make a real difference in the lives of every day people — the real reason she said yes to being a duchess in the first place.

But that passion often found her so caught up in her work with that intense razor sharp focus, she often forgot about everything else when she was stuck into a task. He knew he shouldn’t complain, she was doing a good thing but ever since she’d started on this particular initiative, Elizabeth barely seemed to have time for them. Fuelled with inspiration, she’d start earlier at the palace like today and be back late. In the few times, they managed to have a meal together, she always seemed to be preoccupied, never paying him her full attention, physically present but mentally she was worlds away.

Its fine, he told himself. She promised she’d be back early today.

Drake decided to use the rest of the time until his wife got home attending to the tiny jobs around their estate in Atlantea, Working with his hands always made him feel better, there was something so pleasantly grounding to see the fruits of his labour. He’d just fixed up the last of a broken fence on the border of their land when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He wiped his hands on his jeans, expecting it to be a text from Elizabeth saying she was back but one glance was enough to dash his hopes.

Caught up at work. Will be back late. I’ll make it up to you. Promise xx

He sighed in dejection, dropping down onto a nearby stump, emotions warring in him. He knew he shouldn’t complain. Elizabeth wouldn’t just blow him off if it wasn’t something really important right? He chased the doubt from his mind, recalling the promise they’d made together on their honeymoon to always put each other first, no matter what. They didn’t have to do anything fancy or extravagant, just being with her was enough for him. Riding down to the river, curled up on the couch watching a movie, hell he’d even take a mushy talk about feelings and stuff. But how could he do that if she was never around. He knew the duchess life was demanding, he knew that they’d both have to make sacrifices sometimes but surely…

Drake shook his head again. He was never good with words but he resolved to bring this up with Elizabeth the next time they were together because it was killing him to be apart from her and in the time that they did have together, he felt like she wasn’t even fully with him. All he could do was wait..

Hours later, after the sun had long set, Drake finally heard the key turn in the front door. Gulping down the last of his whiskey, he made his way to the foyer to find Elizabeth just getting in after a long day. The smile on her face, though tired, was enough to smooth over his ruffled feathers and in an instant her lips were on his.

‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured between kisses, her body moulding to his immediately. ‘Things ran late and-‘

‘Its fine, you’re here now,’ He whispered back, just happy to have her with him again.

Elizabeth pulled back to grin mischievously at him, hands sliding down his torso provocatively. ‘I believe I promised to make it up to you.’

‘Liz you don’t-‘

She placed a manicured finger over his lips, the heated look in her eyes spreading to his. ‘Shhh baby. No talking, I’m gonna make you feel so good.’

After they were finished, Drake lay back on the pillows with Elizabeth tucked tightly against his chest. The sex had been fantastic as usual and while he was physically sated, his emotions were still lacking the same attention. It had been a habit of theirs lately to pillow talk just before bed, where they’d just lay there in each other’s arms and talk about everything and nothing. Elizabeth was a great listener, often knowing what he meant even before he did, filling in the gaps where needed and providing her advice when he asked for it. In exchange he loved to hear about her day and the many things she was doing and together they’d make a game plan of sorts for the next day. Ready to do that now, he ran a tender hand across her back.

‘Liz?’

‘Mmhmm,’ she hummed sleepily.

‘How was your day?’

‘It was good baby, how was yours?’ Her question ended with a gigantic yawn as Drake could feel her head getting heavy against his chest, tired out from the day — and night — she’d had. He couldn’t help feeling crestfallen, she was obviously too tired to give him the attention he was craving and while part of him was desperate to get her talking again, he knew she should rest.

‘It was okay.’

The sound of the alarm forcefully pierced through his sleep and Drake winced again at the sound, jabbing the button down for the second day in a row.

‘What did that alarm clock ever do to you?’

He sat up suddenly to see his wife grinning at him, already showered and dressed, putting on a pair of earrings.

‘You’re still here.’ The words came out partway between a question and a statement as he pushed himself off the bed, walking to her.

‘If you have plans to stall me with that,’ Elizabeth glanced down to where he had an impressive case of morning wood. ‘Think again. I’ve got to leave soon.’

‘Enough time for a cup of coffee?’ He asked hopefully as she glanced at her watch, screwing up her nose.

‘Five minutes.’

Drake forced a smile. ‘I can work with that.’

He headed straight down to their kitchen after a quick visit to the bathroom and set on making coffee for them both — one sugar and a dash of milk for her and a long black for himself. Just as he set the pair of mugs on the countertop, Elizabeth meandered into the kitchen, eyes glued to her phone as she tapped out a message.

‘Thanks babe,'she murmured, wandering over to him to plant a kiss on his cheek, barely glancing up from the screen as she reached for the mug.

‘So what time will you be home?’ Drake asked, hands cupping his own drink as he watched her raise her to her lips.

‘I’ll text you,’ she mumbled, mug pausing just before reaching mouth as her phone began to buzz and she lowered it to the table to pick up the call. ‘This is Elizabeth… Yes…. No it should have been finalised yesterday… What?…’ She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her hand. ‘Alright just sit tight, I’ll be right there.’

She clicked off the call, hands already reaching for her purse as the apologetic look appeared in her eyes, one that Drake was getting reluctantly familiar with. ‘I gotta go.’

‘Yeah,’ he spat out, hoping she wouldn’t hear the venom in his tone, or maybe that she would, he didn’t know. ‘I get it. Go.’

If he was expecting her to notice his dejected tone, he was disappointed as Elizabeth merely grabbed her purse and keys and was out the door after pressing another kiss to his cheek, leaving her mug untouched.

Drake readjusted his grip on the picnic basket he was holding as he weaved his way through the palace halls towards Elizabeth’s office. In her rush to get out of the house this morning, he realised she’d left her lunch behind and had taken it upon himself to prepare a picnic lunch to surprise her, hoping that by the time he reached her, some of the chaos of her job would had been alleviated. Unfortunately this was not the case he soon learned as he paused outside the door other office, hearing her reprimand one of the staff. He winced, knowing that Elizabeth did not like to yell, much less at someone who was supposed to be working with her, usually trying and succeeding to resolve the matter over a civilised conversation. When the staff member, a slender Caucasian girl with a permanent attitude came out, he took his chance to slip in, hoping that he could take her away from all the stress that was weighing on her.

‘Hey Walker.’

Elizabeth picked her head up from her hands and looked at him suspiciously. ‘Drake? Why are you here?’

The comment hurt more than it should have, for though she did not say it aloud, he knew that he was out of place and unwanted. Still he tried to brush it off. ‘Jeez Liz don’t look so happy to see me or anything.’

‘What do you need? I’m busy and I’m sure you heard me telling Zoe off for her incompetence yet again. She can’t seem to do anything I tell her and now I’ve got a whole mess to clean up.’

‘I come in peace,’ he declared, holding up the picnic basket. ‘I thought we could sneak off for lunch together.’

She regarded him for a long moment and he felt his smile grow uneasy under her calculating gaze. ‘I don’t think I can Drake. Not today. There’s just too much I have to do, things to sign, meetings to attend…’ She trailed off gesturing to the piles of paperwork around her.

‘You need a break Liz,’ he tried again, coming around to her side of the desk. ‘I’m sure Cordonia won’t collapse if you take the afternoon off?’

She rolled her eyes, barely acknowledging his poor attempt at humour. ‘I can’t okay. It was a nice idea but I can’t afford to take any time off. Maybe later.’

‘Yeah that’s what you always say,’ Drake grumbled, not bothering to hold back the venom this time. ‘Can’t wait to be let down… again.'

'Stop acting like a baby Drake its just one picnic.’ Elizabeth replied sharply, looking up at him in annoyance.

‘No its not just one picnic,’ he retorted, anger bubbling to the surface, anger that stemmed from a deep sense of neglect. 'Ever since you’ve taken on this new job, You come home late, you’re gone early, I feel like I don’t even see you anymore.’

‘ What do you fucking mean?’ She questioned, getting riled up herself. 'We had sex just last night'

'What does that have to do with anything?'

'For us to have had sex it means you would have seen me Drake,’ she enunciated each word slowly, as if talking to a child. Thats how it works. That was time spent together. So don’t say I haven’t been there when I clearly was.’

'Its not just that..’ he burst out in frustration, unable to find the words to accurately voice his turbulent emotions. ‘Its everything else Elizabeth. I just want you but you’re always rushing off to some meeting, we can’t go five minutes without your goddamn phone interrupting us with another really important call -'

'Those calls are important Drake! I’m trying to make a real change here and the least you can do is support me.’

'How am I supposed to support you if I barely see you? I just want you but you don’t seem to be interested’ He shot back, turning on her, eyes blazing.

She rose to her feet, matching his glare. 'So what if you don’t see me once in a while? It comes with the territory, you knew what you were getting into when you married me.'

'Well lately I feel like the only person who’s putting any effort into this marriage!’ He exclaimed angrily. ‘If we can even call it that when you spend more time at that fucking desk than with me.’

‘What are you saying Drake?’

‘I’m… I’m saying,’ he fumbled for words that refused to come, keenly aware of her expectant expression. ‘You know what? Forget it. It was a stupid idea anyway.’

Grabbing the picnic basket, he stalked out, slamming the door behind him, leaving Elizabeth in the room by herself. She let out a small scream of frustration, stamping her foot and regretting it instantly when an arc of pain darted up from her heel.

‘Ouch fuck!’ She stomped back to her desk, plopping into the chair, anger at Drake’s childishness bubbling in her as her mind went over her side of the argument, unable to see it from his point of view in her rage. As her breathing calmed down, Elizabeth’s rational side began to kick in and she sighed loudly, feeling mentally exhausted. After a while she heard a sound at her door.

‘Knock knock.’

Elizabeth glanced up to see Liam standing in the doorway of her office looking apologetic.

She dropped her head back into her hands. ‘How much of that did you hear?’

‘Do you really want the answer to that one?’ He asked, taking a seat opposite her.

She sighed. ‘I messed up didn’t I?’

‘I hate to be the one to say this but yes you kind of did.’

‘Gee you give a real great pep talk Your Majesty,’ she replied sarcastically, remnants of her anger from argument not quite disappeared yet.

‘He’s right Elizabeth, you’re too stressed, you’ve taken on a whole department and while I have no reason to question your dedication or tenacity, its impacting the other parts of your life.’

Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply but Liam held a hand up, gesturing for her to let him speak. ‘I’ll take it from here, you take the rest of the day off and tomorrow we’ll look into getting you a secretary.'

This time she was unable to stop her protest. 'But Liam you’re the king, you literally have a whole kingdom to run… If I can’t run a department myself then-’

‘As your king I am ordering you to take the rest of the day off, and tomorrow too,’ he held a hand up again, seeing as she was about to argue. ‘I’ll can handle it, don’t worry.’

‘Even if I do go back now, he’s still gonna be mad.’

‘True,’ Liam mused. ‘Let him let off some steam then go to him.’

‘What am I going to say? I have no idea where to begin,’ she admitted, running a hand through her hair at the harsh words they'd exchanged.

Liam smiled. ‘Thats the thing about Drake. You don’t have to say or do anything fancy, you know that by now. All you need to give him is your time. Just being there will mean the world to him.’

Elizabeth glanced up, feeling the weight in her chest lessen a little and eventually a smile began to form. ‘Did anyone ever tell you, you’d make a good diplomat?’

‘I’m sure they recognised that,’ Liam chuckled. ‘That’s why they made me king. Now go.’

Needing no further encouragement, Elizabeth leapt out of her chair, giving him a small squeeze on the shoulder. ‘Thanks Liam. I’ve got the perfect idea.’

When Drake returned home a few hours later, having taken a drive to clear his head after the argument with his wife, upon unlocking the door to their residence wing of Atlantea, he almost swore as something hit him lightly in the face. Glancing up in confusion, he saw a note tied to the string of a yellow balloon.

In order to find me, you must first mount a noble steed.

‘What the fuck?’ He whispered under his breath, more confused at ever at the cryptic message. It was obviously leading to the stables but for what? He turned on his heel and was out the door again, making his way down to the expansive building that housed the horses he cared for. Peeking in, he found it empty except for an identical yellow balloon floating in the far corner. He grabbed the note attached to it and read.

The quest continues, you shall find what you seek through the valley and down the creek.

He raised his eyebrow at the terrible pun, beginning to catch on before a horse whinnied and Flame the gelding he’d rescued nudged his arm. Getting the message, Drake quickly saddled him up and set down the old trail into the forest. He’s almost thought he’d been played, lead on a wild goose chase as the sun was beginning to dip under the horizon when he spotted a light in the trees. Urging Flame into a trot, he rounded the bend to find the gazebo he’d built there lit up with gentle fairy lights, the breeze ruffling the curtains gently.

Elizabeth stepped out, looking at him apologetically and he noted that she was dressed more casually in a summer dress and cardigan that matched the yellow balloon she was holding. Drake dismounted, brow furrowed as he looked past her to find a romantic dinner set up for the two of them inside the structure before he turned his questioning gaze back to her.

‘I’m sorry,’ Elizabeth began, gesturing at their surroundings. ‘I got too caught up in work and didn’t make enough time for you… for us. I shouldn’t have yelled this afternoon. You were only trying to help me destress and I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have yelled.’

She kept talking as he began to approach, eyes trained on him. 'You were right. I did neglect you and I’m sorry. I want this… I want us to work out. And I’m not going to let work get in the way of us ever again.'

Drake was almost in front of her when she spoke again, just within arms reach but his eyes still doubted her. 'You said earlier you didn't want all the pomp and circumstance, you just wanted me. Well now you have me.’

‘What about your projects and stuff?’ He asked finally, still holding his reservations.

Elizabeth noted that and was already nodding. 'For the next 48 hours I am completely and totally yours, no phones, no interruptions and we can spend as much time together as you want. Following that 48 hours I promise to make time for you, no matter how busy our lives get, I promise to always make time for us Drake. I-I love you. A lot. And I just want you too.’

Those were the words he needed to hear and Drake had no hesitation to wrap her in his arms and pull her close, voice reverent as he gazed deeply into her eyes. ‘You’re all I ever wanted Elizabeth. And I love you too.’

He caught her lips in a long slow kiss that tingled out from her mouth to the rest of her body and she responded eagerly, relieved that he’d forgiven her. His hand reached up to cup her cheeks he deepened the kiss and finally her mind was set at ease.

They would be okay. Everything else could wait, for now it was just the two of them. As it should be.

#drake walker #drake x mc #trr drake #Drake x Elizabeth #elizabeth richmond #The Royal Romance #trr #choices #playchoices #choices fandom #choices fanfiction #PURE FLUFF RIGHT HERE #ARE YOU HAPPY TRU #YOU GOT YOUR QT FIC #sorry if the ending was crap #i was falling alseep at my laptop so just deal with it

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my-last-words07 · 6 years ago

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The Storm

If y’all know me, you know that I work at a summer camp, and this year I came back early because of a huge storm that shut down my camp. I’ve tried and tried to write about it, but understandably, It’s hard to recover from something of that magnitude. Y’all may understand more if I ever manage to write it. But here’s a try.

July 19, 2019, it was the night of the closing campfire. We were in the Dining Hall, thank God, because we knew a storm was coming. About halfway through some skits, the power went out. A few minutes later, part of the roof broke and let in some water. No big deal, in the grand scheme of things.

After skits and stories, we learned about a small extent of the damage, through whispers and messages. An office staff stood up in front of everyone and said, “We’re still checking the damage, so everyone will be here a little bit longer.”

True heroes of the night were my friend Stark, who told a story for almost an hour, to keep everyone distracted. All of the staff that passed out cups and carried water pitchers so everyone could be hydrated. The office staff, that were responsible for keeping everyone safe and calm inside the hall. The staff that stood up and lead songs to keep campers entertained.

An hour later, the camp director stood up, and that’s how you know shit is real. He said, “I need everyone’s attention. Because of the damage, we’ve decided that everyone is going to spend the night in the Dining Hall. It’s too dangerous to leave now.”

Some people, like myself, were a little more anxious at that news. True hero was the camp director, that led me and a friend to the office to stay alone and calm down.

Once he got us to the office, he leveled with us. He said, “Everyone is safe, and that’s the important part. The way I see it, there’ll be a few work days, and then... Everyone will be sent home. We can’t open camp like this.”

That was the straw that broke my back. Camp is where most of my friends are. If we’re not at camp, I live several states away from most of them. So the news that I’d be leaving them... After you hear everyone is safe, it’s okay to be upset about the selfish things.

So me and another close friend were in the office, arms around each other, holding hands, crying at the news, trying to calm ourselves down, trying to feel any semblance of okay. Spoiler alert, we didn’t succeed.

There was a quick meeting for the director to fill us all in, and he asked for volunteers to stay up all night to watch the Scouts. I remember the pride I felt, and the pride our director showed, when every single hand went up to volunteer to help, in any way that they could. The real heroes were the staff that were willing to give up sleep, in the middle of this disaster, to watch over the campers and keep them safe.

Myself and a few other friends fell asleep in the office. One person prepped his drone, because he’d volunteered to use it to take pictures, and assess the damage.

We woke up four hours after we’d fallen asleep, at 5:30 am, and started to do whatever we could. Some of us went down to the firebowl, where we saw the boat coming from the camp on the other side of the lake. They pulled up, the boat half full of lake water, and said, “Can we get a bucket line going? We’re out of running water.”

Some staff hauled and ferried water all morning, without even stopping for breakfast.

Myself and two other people, Stark and Skylar served breakfast. We didn’t know just how much food we had, or if there’d be enough of it, but we knew we needed to feed these kids. So, for 45 minutes we sat in line, serving cinnamon rolls, bagels, and milk to 200+ people, some of which wanted answers that we didn’t have.

Partway through serving, a staff member comes up behind us. “Spread the word, the showerhouse is closed. We’re out of running water.”

Imagine, if you will, standing in line, trying to feed hundreds of people. You’re dead tired, you’re trying to look happy but failing, and everyone knows that this is an emergency situation.

Then it gets worse. You have 200+ people, and no more water. And you can’t do anything except keep serving your burnt cinnamon rolls and frozen bagels. Imagine the terror. I don’t have to imagine it, I was there. We all kept serving, and kept calm. True heroes are the ones that worked twice as hard so no one else had to work or worry.

I found out later that a few younger staff had been helping run the ferry, getting people to the other side of the lake so that they could drive out. Fourteen and fifteen year olds had been so quick to volunteer that not many others had realized. They worked tirelessly for hours, and when the ferry stopped for the day, they walked a mile back to main camp and worked some more. They’re the real heroes.

I played almost 3 hours of Mau with some friends to keep campers entertained. Mau is the worst card game in the universe, if you didn’t know. Quite a few of us, on a few hours of sleep, elected to stay awake longer to make sure campers had fun. You already know what I’ll say about that.

That night we got all of the campers out of camp, and some roads started to clear. We couldn’t do anything else, except wait. Pack up camp. People worked tirelessly wherever they were needed to make sure camp got properly packed up. No one sat idle. That very night, someone drove up with cases upon cases of water for us. People heard about our plight and, without a second thought, packed their cars and asked to help. Disaster really brings out the best in people.

And then on Monday, after a few days of the worst possible things happening, we went home.

All of us went home. Just one week ago, I said goodbye to my home that had been destroyed, and my friends that I so sorely needed during this time... And I drove back to Michigan. While this was the worst experience I’ve ever had in my life, let’s concentrate on the people that I’ve been pointing out through this whole post.

The true heroes. Stark, who distracted people with her story for almost an hour, to keep everyone calm. The staff members that led songs, and played games. Nate, who lent his drone to the cause. The office staff that had to deal with keeping everyone safe. All of the people that volunteered to stay up all night, everyone that stayed out all day with chainsaws, clearing our trails. The people that served food, and brought us water and ran the ferry, and kept everyone safe and calm.

This was the worst experience of my life, but that’s not what I can concentrate on. I have to concentrate on the heroes that shone through, and did everything in their power to keep people safe and calm, and get us out safely and quickly. That’s what you have to pay attention to in these trying times.

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estelofimladris · 6 years ago

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My Longest Day Ever in Fandom

This has been one of the hardest 48 hours for me as a fan. Really they’ve been pretty bad in the scope of me being a person, but in my fandom experience, this shit takes the cake.

** WARNING: THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR The Magicians as well as some minor spoilers for Pirates of the Caribbean, Harry Potter, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Avengers: Infinity War, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, The Flash, and Supergirl. **

** ALSO: This shit gets super personal. Don’t read if it makes you uncomfortable. **

I get that I’m specifically interested in stories of struggle and triumph. I thrive with stories about how the things worth having aren’t easily obtained. And sometimes people fail and sometimes people lie. There are horrible obstacles and things to conquer.

A bit of my fandom-inflicted past:

Will Turner was my favorite Pirates character. We had tickets not only to the three-movie marathon on opening day, but then the midnight screening. I nearly didn’t go to the second screening.

Sirius Black is why I got into Harry Potter. I got into it at the weird middle place when the books were still coming out and the movies were being made. I had been forced to read the first book when it was first published and it had left a very bad taste for me so the fact that anything could draw me into the fandom was insane. I watched Prisoner of Azkaban entirely by chance while hanging with my cousins and had read all the books by the time Goblet of Fire was released. I lived in and loved a fandom where my favorite character was dead before I even got a chance to know him.

Grant Ward was one of my two my favorite Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. characters. I rushed a Ward cosplay for WonderCon, which happened to be scheduled about a week after the release of Captain America: The Winter Soldier and less than a week after the AoS episode “Turn, Turn, Turn” aired, revealing that Ward was a brainwashed and abused Hydra sleeper agent the whole time. I then nearly scrapped the entirely completed cosplay. Instead I wore it to WonderCon and had people whispering “Hail Hydra” to me all weekend.

I spent at least three years living with a TV curse. Every show that I watched before its renewal for a second season was cancelled. To this day, I struggle to watch new shows because I fear that I will fall in love with a show only for it to be cancelled.

In the past year, I have lost 5 of my favorite characters to sudden deaths/departures:

Bucky Barnes (Avengers: Infinity War)

Harry Wells (The Flash)

Leo Fitz (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.)

Winn Schott (Supergirl)

And this is about the most recent one, Quentin Coldwater (The Magicians)

I also know that there are more to come:

Avengers: Endgame comes out next week.

Arrow is ending at the end of this year.

There are more stories of woe and uncomfortable spaces in which we want to see our favorites succeed and they fail or lose or die. But this, this is more than just someone failing or losing or dying.

I survived all that other shit. I was a little off for a few days following or weeks or months or even years. But we always come back to Fandom. Maybe not the same fandom, but the big idea of Fandom. Being a fan isn’t something you can really just stop.

I got into The Magicians because of serendipity. Two of my closest friends got into the show at some point last year and had mentioned that I’d liked it, but it was one in a malaise of fandoms that I’d been told that about and I only have so many hours in the day and space in my heart. One of the people I was rooming with at SDCC this last year had freshly gotten into the show and was going to the panel. Another of my friends was going to the panel as well who had freshly gotten into the show. When I asked about it afterwards, the lovely human said they’d met a lovely other new fan. My friends had met entirely by chance at the panel and I got to hear all about how lovely the fandom was and that it was a really great panel with a lot of promise for the new season.

I got home from SDCC and, one day while curious, watched the pilot of The Magicians.

I finished the show in less than three weeks. I watched it again. I’ve probably watched this show more than any other media since August.

A bit of background about me and why this show struck a very deep chord with me:

I met my entire close group of friends, my found family, because of Lord of the Rings. I learned Sindarin (elvish) in high school. Every screen name I have is related to my love and foundation of loving Lord of the Rings. I have a tattoo in elvish.

I grew up around a lot of mental illness. I myself have been diagnosed and treated for adolescent/adult ADD, but members of my family as well as every best friend I’ve ever had, has been depressed and most were suicidal. I had to confront my best friend over suicide attempts at 13. My brother was treated for extremely aggressive childhood depression when I was a kid.

I’m also queer. Still working to unstick myself from some definitions I’ve given myself, but I’m definitely genderqueer and androphilic and exploring my romantic identity in part because of this show.

I’ve delt with death my whole life. My first grandparent (maternal grandfather) died when I was 5 or 6. My last grandparent (paternal grandmother) died when I was 22. I had a dear friend die in a motorcycle accident in 2015. I’ve been there for people who have lost loved ones suddenly and held people’s hands through the deaths of parents, loved ones, and children.

I also am about to complete my third and final year of an insanely rigorous graduate costume design program.

This show felt like it was made for me to love it. It made it so easy.

The fandom was a loving community that welcomed me immediately and I have thrived there. I would come home from a crazy day at school, put on an episode of the show, and get lost in the lovely fandom that I’d found myself in. I mean that both ways. Yes, I tripped and fell and found myself among excellent people. But more importantly, I found myself in ways I didn’t expect through The Magicians.

Through a series of very unfortunate events, I stopped reading Fan Fiction about 7 or 8 years ago. I would occasionally write something, but nothing that I cared about what anyone thought about it. It was only writing that had to be written not writing for an audience in any way.

The Magicians got me reading Fan Fiction again. I drew fan art. I participated in discussions on the meta. I joined in when I don’t really have the free time, but it felt so good.

In Quentin in particular, I found a part of myself that was seldom voiced. This melancholy nerd who was Doing His Very Best™ all the time tapped into the kid who loved something so much it transformed their life. It spoke to the parts of me that I don’t talk about that feel like a fraud and a floundering fool. The Magicians told me that I’m not some pathetic thing. That I’m part of my world and that I belong. That it’s ok to re-think about sexuality and romance as an adult. It spoke to my struggles with school and creating something from absolutely fucking nothing.

Something that I’ve not told many people: I’ve struggled with feeling worthy of love. I’ve had some really big relationships that ended poorly and ever since coming out as genderqueer and living my truth, I’ve been single. Watching Quentin be so worthy of love and struggle with that himself, he really shifted my views on relationships.

So, Wednesday was, needless to say, rough.

The fun twist though, I have a mandatory class on Thursday mornings. I had a lot of anxiety about this finale already because I had a notion that something horrible was going to happen because its a Magicians finale. I really struggled to work on homework for the past week. (I texted a friend on Wednesday “How am I supposed to work under these conditions!?” partway through the day.)

This anxiety resulted in not all of my homework being done by the time I had set aside to cook a delicious dinner and settle in to watch the episode with friends. So at the end, after I had cried, drank, nearly threw up from being upset, and was all-in-all a complete wreck, I then proceeded to work on homework until I couldn’t, then I put myself to bed with an alarm set to wake up early and finish, but woke up with a nearly-vomiting anxiety attack (which I don’t get ever) an hour before my alarm.

I finished my homework on my 1.5 hours of sleep, went to class, tried to be eloquent and not burst into tears. I sorta succeeded at both, thankfully. My work was... sub-par, but present, which was the only real requirement. Despite some close calls, I didn’t cry until I was in my car driving home.

I got home, cried a lot, tried to eat and sleep (and failed at both) and ended up having a second wake with another friend and drinking, which finally made me fall asleep.

Throughout the day, I seriously considered deleting every Magicians post from my queue and even my Tumblr as a whole. I thought about dropping out of fandom entirely, including conventions, cosplay - all of it. I thought about selling or donating all of the considerable amount of Magicians merch and related items (cosplay, decor, fan-made merch) that I’ve accumulated in the past few months. I thought about shaving off the hair that I grew out specifically for Quentin that helped me re-shape my queer identity over the past few months.

I woke up in the middle of the night again with more panic attacks. It took sitting with my best friend to make me really fall asleep and stay asleep.

Today, I’m looking back at this whole experience up to this point and I’m so exhausted. I’m tired of crying over something that just brought me so much deep joy. I miss my fandom. We’re all in mourning and its chilling.

I decided somewhere in my insanity yesterday that I need to reclaim The Magicians that I loved. I posted about how it will take time, but they can’t kill the love that transformed my life.

I’m still not sure how to get out of this horrible raw place, but I know time will help. And actually eating a real meal.

I’m sharing all of this because I’m not the only one in this place. If you’re struggling, you are not alone.

I see you. I feel you.

Thank you for being a part of this fandom that has so heavily enriched my life. You are loved. We will find ourselves again.

#personal #but also about the magicians #fandom #the magicians #quentin coldwater #i'm a fucking disaster right now

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upthenorthmountain · 6 years ago

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A First Time For Everything

Happy birthday @kristanna!

For you I have a story! Or the first part of one. I started this waaaay back in April, after Charis was talking about the idea a lot and I just started writing. Then I was ill for months and then I picked it up again and here it is! I hope you like it.

Big thanks to @karis-the-fangirl as always x

Rating: MA, 6462 words (I KNOW)

A First Time For Everything

“Hi, are you Anna?”

She turned, prepared to deny it if necessary, but the man asking looked, well, normal. He was six-foot-something, blond with brown eyes, wearing a nice shirt and jeans, and he was smiling.

“Um, yes?”

“I’m Kristoff. Can I get you a drink?”

“Sure, of course.”

“Lindsay sent me your picture,” Kristoff said as they sat down in the corner of the bar, “So I knew who I was looking for.”

“She said you’ve - done this before?”

“Few times, yeah.”

“So it’s okay? Do we, do we go to yours, or -”

“Hey. Anna.” She looked up, and caught his eye. His gaze was steady, and she took a deep breath to calm herself down. “I think we have a drink together,” he said, “And then we can decide what we want to do. Okay?”

She nodded.

“And if you’ve changed your mind, then that’s cool,” he said. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

Anna took a drink to steady herself. “Can I ask a question?”

“Of course, yeah.”

“How do you get into - this line of work? Oh no, not work, I don’t mean work, I mean -”

He laughed. “I know what you mean. It’s a fair question. OK. Well you know Lindsay’s my ex?”

“Yes, of course.”

“We were together a couple of years, and then we kinda grew apart so we split up but we stayed friends. And she was my first but I wasn’t hers, but she said a few times that she wished I had been because her first experience was, not good. I mean not awful but, yeah. She didn’t really enjoy it.”

Anna nodded. Kristoff was so matter-of-fact that she was quickly forgetting to feel awkward; she’d spent most of the day psyching herself up to come tonight, convinced it would go terribly and wondering why she was bothering, but it was fine so far.

“So after we broke up,” Kristoff continued, “A few months after, she rang me up and she said she had a friend who was complaining that her virginity seemed to be scaring the men away, and she asked me if I would sleep with her because, and I quote, ‘I know you’d do a proper job.’ Obviously I said no,” he added quickly. “Because, what the hell, but then I did agree to meet her friend for a drink and I thought….”

“What the hell,” Anna said. Kristoff smiled.

“Well, yeah,” he said. “And I guess I did do a proper job, because she recommended me to her cousin, and I suppose at some point I got a reputation.”

Anna nodded solemnly. “I’ve heard that can happen,” she said.

“Right. I suppose it probably all sounds really weird,” he said. “It all made sense at the time.”

“A little weird,” Anna said, fiddling with the stem of her wine glass. “I mean, I was just complaining to Alison - I don’t know if you know Alison - I didn’t expect her to actually come up with a solution! But I told her, you know, and she said, you need to speak to Linds, she knows a guy.” Kristoff laughed.

“How many times have you done this?” Anna asked.

“You are number five. Will be number five. No pressure.”

“I’m not going to change my mind. Once I decide to do something, I do it.” She drained her drink. “Your place or mine?”

-----

You’re so innocent, Anna, Henry said. It’s sweet, but it’s hard on me, sometimes. Having to teach you everything about how the world works, show you everything. It’s a heavy responsibility, knowing I’d be the only man you’d been with. And I don’t want you to wake up one day and realise you missed out.

Hadn’t she always done everything he wanted? Always agreed with him, had her hair done the way he liked, wore the jewellery he gave her (even if, privately, she found the earrings too heavy, the necklaces too showy). Didn’t she deserve the thing that she wanted? A ring. Jewellery, again. But this time she’d be happy to let him choose it.

She wanted to be married. It wasn’t about his money, it really wasn’t; she wanted the security, she wanted to know that he’d chosen her, someone always on her side, forever. That was what she wanted. Forever.

This was just a blip. She just needed to do this, rid herself of this pesky virginity, and she’d get him back.

-----

They went to his place.

Anna felt her nerves coming back as they walked down the street, and the only way she knew to get over them was to talk over them.

“This is a one-off, right?” she said.

“Hmm? Yeah. It’s not, like,” he smiled at her, “An ongoing course.”

That made Anna laugh. “You don’t have a syllabus? No powerpoint?”

“Just the practical.” He unlocked his front door. “Do you want another drink first?”

“No, I’d better not. Complete lightweight,” she explained. “Two drinks and I’m tipsy, three and I’m under the table.”

“Okay, fair enough.”

The front door to the flat led into an ordinary-looking hall. As Kristoff shut the door behind them, Anna fell silent, unsure what to do now. She didn’t know how these things - got started. “Where’s your bedroom?” she heard herself say, then froze, afraid he was going to laugh at her.

But he didn’t; just smiled, and said “It’s right here,” and leant past her to open a door. Beyond it, sure enough, was a perfectly ordinary bedroom, with a neatly made bed and the bedside lamp already lit.

He waited behind her, and Anna took a deep breath and a few steps forward. This was fine. She was in a man’s bedroom, a man she’d just met that evening, and it was fine. Lots of people did this all the time, and she even had references. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off her shoes. Her heart was drumming.

Kristoff opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but after a second he closed it again and walked over to sit next to her. Anna’s head burst with a million questions - should she undress? Or did he want to do it? Or should she undress him? Or maybe it would be quicker if they didn’t, maybe she should just lie down and -

Her train of thought was thrown from the track by the warmth of Kristoff’s hand on the side of her face. She jumped slightly - not quite a flinch - and he paused, still; then leant in until his lips were a breath away from hers.

It was Anna that closed the gap, in a sudden movement that was almost jerky. She was so used to kissing Henry, it felt strange - this was different, so different, warmer and softer and she didn’t know what to do with her hands, it felt strange leaving them in her lap, when he was running his fingers through her hair to cup the back of her head - should she do that? She put one hand hesitantly on his shoulder.

But maybe it felt more like she was pushing him away, because Kristoff withdrew, moving his own hand down to her arm. “Relax, Anna,” he said. “If you’ve changed your mind, it’s okay.”

“I haven’t. I’m fine. I am!” she said at his sceptical expression. “I am, I want - this, I want…”

He was still looking at her, thoughtful. “Tell you what,” he said.

“What?”

“How about we lower the pressure a bit - go into the lounge and watch a film or something, see how we get on. It’s barely nine, we’ve got plenty of time.”

“Watch a film?”

“Sure, sit next to each other, kiss a bit if we want, see what happens.”

“...okay.”

He stood and Anna followed him through to his living room, which was also very tidy. Kristoff sat on the sofa and picked up a couple of remotes; once he’d brought up the Netflix screen he held out one of them to her, and she sat next to him to take it. “Whatever you like,” he said. “Nothing too gory.”

“Or too girly?”

“Whatever you like. I have sisters, girly doesn’t bother me.”

Anna scrolled down until she found a rom-com she liked, an old favourite. She hesitated on the selection, but Kristoff put his hand over hers on the remote and pressed the OK. “Sure, why not.”

He leant back and put his arm out. Anna shuffled across to him and let him pull her closer.

----

“Anna.”

“Hmmph?”

“Anna. Film’s finished. Let me walk you home.”

Anna blinked, puzzled. No, the film was only partway through, they were only at the scene where….although she’d got a bit distracted, because Kristoff kept kissing her, and it was nice, very nice once she got used to it. And then at one point she’d sort of snuggled up next to him and it was very cosy and now the film was over and also she seemed to have drooled on his t-shirt.

“I can’t go home,” she said. “We didn’t, you know.”

“It’s late, you’re obviously tired. Come on,” he said, standing up, “Where did you leave your shoes?”

“In the bedroom. Where we should go, because, I came here on a mission, and I shaved my legs all the way up and everything, and I want to get it done -”

“Anna, come on,” Kristoff said. “It’s not some horrible ordeal to get through, okay? If you’re not ready today, that’s fine. I’ll walk you home.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” He left the room and returned with her shoes. She put them on.

“For - leading you on. And, um, for falling asleep on you.”

“You’re always allowed to change your mind,” was all he said.

-----

He walked her home, but neither of them said much - it was only a short walk, anyway. When they parted, Anna said “Thanks anyway. Even if it didn’t work out.”

“Well - if you want another try, give me a bell,” Kristoff said.

“Really? You didn’t find it - frustrating?”

“We didn’t really get far enough for that to be a problem - and, sure. You’re gorgeous,” he said, as if it was a simple statement of fact. “Think about it, okay? Up to you. Goodnight,” and he walked away.

-----

“Hello?”

“Hi, Kris - um, you know you said if I wanted to try again, I should phone you?”

“Sure.”

“Are you still - interested?”

“Of course.”

“Okay.” And she hung up, and rang the doorbell.

“I’m ready,” she said when he answered the door. “I’m ready this time. Honest.”

Kristoff put his hands in his pockets and looked her up and down. “If you say so. Come in, then.”

Anna went through and shut the door behind her. She kicked off her shoes and, determined, walked straight through to the bedroom. Kristoff followed her, his hands still in his pockets, an expression of mild amusement on her face. Anna sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at him. “Come on, then.”

He sat next to her. “Why the sudden enthusiasm?”

“Just - you know.”

“Do I?”

“Want to get it over with.”

“That’s extremely flattering, thank you.”

“Don’t you want to?”

He didn’t answer her. Instead, he looked her up and down in a way that made her blush; then he cupped the side of her face with his hand, stroked his thumb over her cheek, and kissed her.

She was a bit more used to kissing him, this time. It felt more natural, and she could relax into it and enjoy it. After a few minutes, Kristoff pulled away and climbed up properly onto the bed; he held out an arm to her and she followed, then let him gently pull her down until they were lying facing, his arm around her. He kissed her again.

It was nice. He was so warm, and solid, and while he certainly wasn’t holding her down, his hand against her back was almost comforting, almost safe, and she didn’t want anything else but to be lying here kissing him. She wriggled closer.

Kristoff slid his hand down her back and stroked her bottom over her jeans for a minute, then he moved it back up again and slipped it under her t-shirt. The warmth against her bare skin made her shiver pleasantly, and after a second he moved his hand still higher and brought it round to the front.

Then three things happened, one after the other. Kristoff ran his thumb inside her bra cup and over her nipple; Anna reflexively bucked her hips against his, and felt the hard ridge of his erection against her thigh; and she gasped and let out a moan against his mouth.

And it all felt so good but also it was too much, and her body had never wanted anything this badly, and as she realised that she gasped again but this time her reflexive movement was away from him. She pushed him away and sat up, still out of breath and her heart racing.

“Sorry,” Kristoff said. “Shit. Sorry, Anna.” He sat up and ran a hand over his hair.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’ll be okay, just - just give me a minute.”

“Okay.” They sat in silence for a minute.

“Anna,” Kristoff said, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Okay. I know you’ve never actually had sex before, but - what have you done? I mean, you’ve kissed someone before, right?”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“Okay, good.”

“I was with Henry two years! Of course we kissed.”

“That’s what I was thinking, right.”

“But not kissing like that, you know. With hands and things.”

“Really?”

“Yes, he was always - very respectful, you know.”

“Never went for the boob.”

“No! No.”

Kristoff looked thoughtful for a minute. “And you didn’t want him to?”

“I - I don’t know.”

He looked at her. Anna was looking down, twisting her hands together. Kristoff cleared his throat. “Tell you what,” he said, “I was about to make dinner. Would you like to join me?”

“What? Really?”

“Sure. Be nice to have some company.”

“Okay. Yes. Thank you.”

Kristoff stood and walked over to the door. “For what it’s worth,” he said, “I think you can be perfectly respectful and put your hand on someone’s…well, anywhere.”

-----

“So what do you do?” Anna asked, following him through to the kitchen. “Like, for a job.”

“I’m an electrician.”

“Oh, cool.”

“New builds, mainly.”

“Do you have all your certificates and stuff.”

“Well, I’m legally required to, so, yes. Come here.”

Anna had sat down at the table, but now she stood obediently and came over to the counter. Kristoff put a chopping board and knife down in front of her, then handed her an onion. She looked at him. “Chop it up,” he said. “Spag bol okay?”

“Oh, yes, lovely.”

Kristoff got out some pans and started taking things out of cupboards and the fridge. Anna looked at her onion. She didn’t want to admit to never having chopped an onion before. The brown skin needed to come off first, right? How hard could it be.

The doorbell rang. Kristoff looked puzzled, and went to open it; Anna listened to him having a conversation, then he came back through to the kitchen accompanied by a young woman. “...it’s in the big cupboard, I think,” he said. “Ah, Anna, this is Katja. My sister. Our mother wants to borrow a dish -” he opened the cupboard, rummaged for a moment, and pulled out a serving dish - “so she’s sent Kat. Kat, this is Anna.”

“Oh, goodness, I’m sorry, Kris!” Katja said. “If I’d known you had a date I’d have come another time.” She took the dish and hugged it, grinning at them both.

“It’s not -” Anna started, turning back to her onion, sure she was blushing. Kristoff had frozen with his mouth open. Katja flapped her free hand.

“Oh, well, whatever you call it - I’ll get out of your way, don’t worry.” She leant comfortably against the edge of the worktop. “It’s so nice to see, though, how long has it been since you’ve had a girlfriend, Kris? Or even been out with someone -”

“I don’t tell you everything I do,” he muttered, taking jars off the spice rack and lining them up. “I thought you were leaving?”

“Oh, I am. I am. How did you two meet?”

“Friend of a friend. Goodbye, Katja.”

“Mm. Well.” Katja sighed, stood upright and took one half-step to the door. “It was lovely meeting you, Anna! Perhaps we’ll all see you again sometime -“

Kristoff put one hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle push back out to the hall. “Give my love to our mother, when you see her and discuss this two-minute encounter in extravagant detail.”

“Oh, Kris, why are you always so -” The door shut. Anna fiddled with the handle of her knife. Kristoff came back into the room. “Sorry,” he said. “She’s just, you know. My whole family is like that.”

“Friendly?”

“Don’t know when to shut up. Is that onion done?”

“Um, yes.” She pushed the chopping board towards him. The onion looked pretty mangled to her eyes, but he didn’t comment, just lifted the board and slid the pieces into the hot pan.

“And now she’ll go straight to Mum’s,” he continued, “And describe you and what we were doing, and they’ll talk about it all evening and have us married off by the time they part. They all refuse to believe that I’m quite happy living by myself. When I split up with Lindsey it broke my mother’s heart. She’s obsessed with me Finding Someone. An actual woman in my flat after 7pm will drive her into a frenzy.”

“It’s fine,” Anna said. “I don’t mind - I mean, if she does think it’s a date, it doesn’t matter, does it?”

“I suppose not.”

“You can always just say it didn’t work out or we split up or whatever.”

“Yeah.”

She watched him cook. He looked tense, and she couldn’t bear the silence. “How long have you been single?”

“You know Lindsey.”

“Yes, but - you haven’t had a girlfriend since then? But that was years ago!”

“Mmhmm.”

“Linds is married.”

“Sure is.”

Now he looked even tenser. “Well, I’m sure you’ll meet someone soon.”

“I’m not looking, but thanks.”

“Really? But -”

“Anna, leave it, okay? I’m no good at relationships, I’d rather just be - me.” He stirred the saucepan, his jaw set. “I know that’s what you want but not everyone is built for that.”

“You’ve done it before - okay, okay, I’m sorry,” she said at his expression. “It just sounds - lonely.”

“Not everyone is the falling-in-love type.”

“Of course they are, everyone can fall in love -”

He sighed. “Of course they aren’t. Look, I was very fond of Lindsey - don’t tell her I said this, because I said I loved her, but I never really knew what I was supposed to mean by that. I was very fond of her and I liked spending time with her and I enjoy sex. But I don’t do falling in love. That’s just how I am, you don’t need to try and persuade me.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

He turned back to his saucepans and apparently the conversation was over.

-----

hey kris

hey what’s up

you not busy? at home

yes and yes, why?

The doorbell rang. When Kristoff answered it, Anna was standing there with a determined expression on her face. “I really mean it this time,” she said. “Honest.”

He stood back and let her in, taking her coat. “You know the way,” he said. “On your back, knickers off.”

At Anna’s face, he added “That was a joke. Can I get you a drink, or...”

“I’m good. And I can’t take my knickers off, because I’m not wearing any.” She plumped down on the side of his bed and grinned at him.

“Was that a joke?”

“Why don’t you come here and find out.”

He stood watching her, arms folded.

“I worked it out,” she said. “I worked out what the problem was.”

“And?”

“Oh, god, usual stuff I guess.I felt bad. For liking it? Because I felt like I shouldn’t. Because I’m a, a nice girl.”

“I didn’t realise you were brought up in the 1950s.”

“I know, I know...but. Once I realised that was the problem, it stopped being a problem! You know?”

“I guess.”

“I mean it. It is the twenty-first century, I am a grown woman, I am allowed to enjoy this. I will enjoy it.” She fell onto her back, arms above her head. “Come here and deflower me.”

He didn’t say anything, and Anna was about to sit up and argue her case again; but then suddenly he was on the bed, right above her, holding himself up with his hands on either side of her shoulders. Her heart thumped alarmingly.

He held her gaze for a long moment, then flicked his eyes to her lips and back up again. She closed her eyes a second before he kissed her; a deep, intense kiss, that was only broken when he pulled back a fraction of a centimetre to murmur “Ready?” against her mouth.

Anna wasn’t sure she could speak and she only had space to give the tiniest nod. She kept her eyes closed as he kissed her, again and again, his body still hovering a centimetre above her own.

When he shifted his weight onto his side next to her she must have tensed up slightly, because he said quietly “We’re just having fun, okay?”

“Mmhmm,” she managed, as he kissed her neck.

“And if you’re not having fun, at any point,” he murmured right by her ear, “You just say and we’ll do something else. Okay?”

“Okay…”

He kissed her again, then leant back further to pull his t-shirt off over his head. It was the first time either of them had actually removed any clothing and Anna felt herself blushing - to cover it, she pulled off her own top, and threw it on the floor. Kristoff looked her up and down, and now she was definitely blushing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

He shrugged. “Only the ones that are beautiful. Now,” he said, hooking a thumb under the waistband of her jeans, “let’s see if you were telling the truth.”

She hesitated, expecting him to undo her trousers, but he didn’t. He just ran his thumb under the waistband, and when he didn’t find anything underneath, he grinned at her and pulled her closer to kiss her.

Kissing felt even better with her bare skin against his. She let him unclip her bra, and wriggled her arms out of the straps; then was surprised when he rolled away, but it was only to shed the rest of his clothes and rummage in his bedside drawer.

Anna watched him, not sure what she should be doing, not wanting to stare but at the same time not knowing where else to look. She shrugged her bra off completely, then remembered her socks and pulled them off as well. Kristoff found what he was looking for, put the condom down on the bedside table and shut the drawer. He smiled when he turned back to her.

“I hope you’ve at least had an orgasm before,” he said.

“Yes, but not - in company. And it’s okay, we can just….”

But he was already kissing her again, and flicking open the button of her jeans as he did so. Anna shivered, and he moved to draw her body against his, keeping her warm as he pushed her jeans over her hips. She wriggled and kicked the trousers off. She could feel his erection now, hot and hard against her thigh, and when he moved his hand to her breast she moaned loudly and involuntarily against his mouth.

He gently pushed on her shoulder until she was lying on her back. “Okay?” he said, and she nodded. “How about now?” he said, sliding his hand over her thigh and between her legs, “How’s that?”

“Good,” she managed. “That’s - um, a bit lower -“ Anna stopped - she was being rude, she shouldn’t correct him - but then he did move his fingers a little lower, and she gasped. Kristoff smiled. “Relax,” he said softly, “We’re having fun, remember?”

Anna tried to nod, but she couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t think of anything except his hand between her legs - his mouth now on her nipple, his tongue stroking - Relax, she told herself. She clutched at his shoulder, blindly, and he looked up. “Okay?” he said.

“Yes - yes, please, don’t stop -”

He didn’t, but he did move a little so that he could hold her at the same time. She buried her head in his shoulder, trying to muffle the sounds she knew she was making, and when she came he pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head as her breathing slowed.

Then he moved away, and she couldn’t think why, until she saw him reaching for the condom packet on the side. Oh, yes. That. She bit her lip.

He must have seen, because he said “We can stop now, if you want.”

“But that’s not fair.”

He shrugged.

“And anyway, I want to,” she added quickly. Because she did - and not just, any more, in the sense of wanting it to be done. She was curious, and also...she just wanted to. She didn’t need to analyse it. She settled herself comfortably on her back and reached out an arm to him.

He kissed her again, gently, and and she felt herself relaxing into it. She closed her eyes and wrapped an arm around his neck, and let him gently move her legs so that he could position himself above her. She kept her eyes closed as he carefully guided himself into her - and then stopped. “I’m okay,” she said firmly before he could ask, and he huffed a laugh and started to move again.

And it was - nice. It didn’t hurt, and it felt somehow satisfying, almost. Anna shifted her hips to get more comfortable and Kristoff groaned in her ear. “You’re amazing,” he muttered. “God, I’ve been thinking about this for so long, ever since I saw you -”

“Really?”

“Of course.” He paused, breathing heavily, and she felt him throbbing inside her. “I didn’t want to pressure you into coming back, after the first time, but god, I wanted you -”

He wrapped an arm around her then, and pressed his lips to hers, and she felt him thrust against her three, four more times. Then he broke the kiss to groan and bury his head in her neck, and she felt him throbbing deep inside her and realised that she liked it. She was suddenly fiercely glad she’d come back tonight and that she hadn’t given up.

After a moment Kristoff kissed her quickly on the lips, then gently withdrew and sat on the edge of the bed. Anna lay there, thoughtful, while he dealt with the condom. Did she feel any different? A little. Did she feel older, wiser, more mature? Not really.

“I guess….I should go,” she said, “Shouldn’t I.”

“Mmm.”

“I should get dressed.”

“If you don’t want to catch cold, yes.”

“But now I’m sleeeeeepy.” She pulled at the duvet underneath her. “I’ll just have a little nap.”

“Come on, Anna,” he said, standing up and reaching for his trousers.

He dressed quickly, said “I’ll let you get on,” and went out of the room. He was smiling, perfectly friendly, but Anna felt a little let down. She found her clothes and dressed.

When she went through into the hall, Kristoff came out of the living room. “You okay?” he said.

“Yes, sure.”

“Just thought we’d better get up before we fell asleep.”

“No, you’re right. I should be getting back before it gets too late.”

“Do you want me to walk you home?”

“No, I’m okay. It’s only half a mile, and it’s not late.”

She walked over to the door and opened it. “Bye, then.”

He smiled. “Bye, Anna.”

Kristoff shut the door behind her. Anna stood on the pavement for a moment, before giving herself a little shake and heading for home. Anyone watching would have seen me go in and then come out a while later, she thought. They wouldn’t know what happened. They wouldn’t know I’m a woman now. Then she had to laugh at herself for being so ridiculous. She didn’t look any different, or she didn’t think she did; she felt a tiny bit sore, maybe, but the fresh air was waking her up out of her post-coital sleepiness.

She took her phone out of her pocket and quickly typed a text. Definitely a proper job. Thx for your help x

He replied a few seconds later. No problem. Take care

And that was that, she supposed. Problem solved.

——-

Henry handed her a glass. “To us,” he said.

“To us,” Anna said, and sipped the champagne. She took another surreptitious glance at her left hand. The ring was as bright and sparkly as she could ever have imagined.

He’d already had the ring, when she came back and told him what she’d done. She didn’t tell him all the details, of course; she’d described it more as a brief fling, insisted that it had made her more certain of what she really wanted. And he’d already had the ring, ready.

It was strange, though, being back here with Henry. Part of her seemed to be looking at him with new eyes. This is what you’ve wanted for years, she told herself firmly. Be happy.

But suddenly she couldn’t think what to say. She drained her champagne flute instead.

“I’ve got work in the morning,” she said, “So I’d better get going soon.”

“You know you don’t need to worry about that,” Henry said. “Once we’re married you won’t need to work.”

“I know.”

“You could give it up now if you like. Move in here.”

“Really?”

“Yes, of course. You can have the blue room.” He smiled at her indulgently. “It has a lovely view. I’ll make sure you have everything you need, my darling.”

Anna opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. Why wouldn’t she sleep in his bedroom? But obviously he didn’t want to, or he’d have suggested it. Surely when they were married…

Then she looked around the room, and noticed something she hadn’t before. There was no sofa, or anything resembling one. All the chairs were for one person only. Each person sitting by themself, individually, not touching. When was the last time Henry had touched her? She couldn’t remember. He hadn’t even put the ring on her finger - he’d waited until she took it from the box and put it on herself.

Henry cleared his throat, and Anna looked up. “Perhaps we should go there now,” he said, “And you can show me what you learnt - while we were apart.”

He leant down to kiss her, and Anna lifted her face to his obediently. She knew how to do this, now; she could do it. It was easy.

-----

ONE MONTH LATER

It was funny. When Kristoff had suggested meeting at that bar, she’d been pleased because it was just round the corner from her flat. But that meant, of course, that she found herself walking past it all the time, and it had started to give her - a little pang, almost. That had been fun, hadn’t it? The whole thing. And now it was irrevocably in the past. And the future was looking pretty bleak.

She’d worked late. It was half eight by the time Anna was walking along the road the bar was on, and as she was its door ahead of her it opened, and two people came out, chatting.

One of them was Kristoff, and her heart leapt into her throat. And the other was a young woman, and her heart sank back down again into her boots.

You are number five. Will be number five. No pressure.

Anna stopped. And then started again, because she needed to walk down the road here, and it was silly to hide. What did it matter who he was with, and why? Maybe it was a friend. Maybe it was his sister - no, as the couple walked under a streetlight ahead of her she could see that it wasn’t Katja. Anna thought a bad word, and then told herself off.

She kept walking, steadily. Kristoff would turn right, here, to get to his flat, and she would keep walking straight on, and he wouldn’t even see her. She was concentrating so hard on this that she almost walked straight into him.

Kristoff and the woman he was with had stopped, for some reason, right by the bus stop. He saw her and said “Anna!” with a smile, and then she had to stop too, and say “Hi,” and this was so awkward. The last time he saw her, almost, she was naked in his bed.

“So this is Anna!” the other woman said, stepping sideways to hold her arm out into the road. “Hello!”

Kristoff rolled his eyes. “Yes. Anna, this is my sister, who I’m sure has heard all about you.”

Anna felt a brief surge of anger. She didn’t care who he was with, or why, she didn’t, but there was no need for him to lie. “I’ve met your sister,” she said.

“He has two. That was Katja, I’m Heidi. And here’s my bus! Lovely to meet you,”

“And you,” Anna said automatically. Heidi smiled at them both and boarded the bus. Anna and Kristoff stood in silence as it pulled away.

After a moment Kristoff coughed. “I heard you got engaged,” he said. “Congrats. That worked out, then, glad I could help.”

“Oh, no,” Anna said. “Well - yes, I did. But we broke up.”

“Really, already? I mean, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay - well, I’m mean it’s not okay, but it’s for the best. I realised - it wasn’t what I wanted. I tried, but - well. I gave him the ring back and everything. So, yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“The problem I have now is that I gave notice on my flat and the landlord found new tenants right away, and I have to move out in two days and all my stuff is in boxes and I’m going to be sleeping on my friend’s sofa and it’s not great but, you know. I’ll find somewhere new, I guess, though I’m not having much luck….I don’t know why I’m telling you this, I’m sorry…” She rubbed at her eyes, then looked up in surprise - Kristoff had put his hands on her shoulders, and she could feel the warmth of his hands even through her winter coat.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, but this time there was more sympathy in his voice. “It must be rough.”

He was standing so close. Anna wondered if, if she leant into him, he would hug her, and then realised with a shade of alarm that what she really wanted to do was kiss him.

“Um,” she said. “Maybe, if you’re not busy, we could go back to yours, and...or is it still a one-off…”

“A one-off. Sorry.”

“OK.” She sniffed. “Sure.”

“But if you want, we could - just hang out? Watch a film or something?”

“Really?”

“Sure.”

“I don’t want to impose…”

“I’m the one who offered.”

“Oh, so you did.”

They walked down the street together.

“You’ll find somewhere,” Kristoff said. “Somewhere even better, I bet.”

“Thanks. I hope so. It’s just, you know. And he didn’t even seem that bothered?” Anna added. “I was like, I’m really sorry Henry but I don’t think I can marry you, and he was all ‘oh okay fair enough, thanks for letting me know’.”

“Right decision, then.”

“Oh, I know it was the right decision...you know when something is just suddenly obviously the thing to do?”

“Sure.”

“Elsa always says - that’s my sister - she says I act without thinking but that’s not true, I just think quicker than her so I act quicker. But, maybe I shouldn’t have acted so quickly before, when I gave up my flat….oh, I don’t know. What’s done is done.”

“Can’t you live with your sister? Is she not local?”

Anna smiled. “She’s not local, no. She’s a microbiologist and she’s in Antarctica over the winter.”

“Antarctica? Really?”

“Uh-huh. Something to do with ice and bacteria and goodness knows what.”

“Wow.”

They’d reached Kristoff’s flat and he unlocked the door and let them in. “Have you eaten?” he said.

“Yeah, I had something at work. Why, are you going to cook for me again?”

“No. But you can make some toast if you want.”

“I’m good.”

Anna sat on the sofa. Suddenly she felt exhausted. Maybe she should just have gone home.

Kristoff say down next to her and picked up the remotes. “What do you want to watch?”

“Don’t care.”

He gave her a look, then pressed buttons until he’d selected the film they’d been watching before. “You missed most of it,” he said.

“I guess so.”

The film started. All Anna could think about was when they’d watched it before, when she’d been full of anticipation. When she’d been looking forward, to getting what she wanted out of life, to love and marriage and happiness. Now she didn’t have anything. Or anyone.

Her mood must have shown on her face, because Kristoff lifted his arm and waited for her to move underneath it. He was such a good hugger.

“It’ll work out,” he said quietly. “Things generally do.” Anna sighed and snuggled up further against his chest. Kristoff lifted his hand and gently stroked her hair.

“S’funny,” Anna said into his jumper.

“What is?”

“I had it all wrong. I thought being in love with someone would be - like this. Warm and safe and comfortable and not having to - perform, all the time. But it wasn’t. I was wrong. Kristoff?”

His hand had stopped moving on her hair, and when she looked up he was staring at the ceiling. After a second he blinked and focussed on her again. “Nothing,” he said. “I think - these things can be complicated. You don’t always feel the way you’d expect to.”

“Maybe the person I am now is different from the person I was two years ago, and we want different things.”

“Sure, probably.”

“Or maybe I was wrong all along.”

Kristoff said nothing, just started stroking her hair again. When Anna also stayed silent he said her name softly, and realised she had fallen asleep.

[TO BE CONTINUED]

#kristanna #fanfic #fanfiction #sara #you get the banner again because you get it every year #actually remembered to save it in my tumblr folder this year so maybe next time I won't have to go searching for it

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