#I���ve been thinking about remnant again

[corviisquire]

I’ve read the comments on my post abt soulsborne sleep token thing! Here’s some concept art I tried. More is on the way just… HW ew. Tagging people who were interested/encouraging this idea: @sleep-token @wingedinsect @moonchild-in-blue @foundationsofdecay @madsthenightowl @a-s-levynn

Undercut is me mindlessly rambling about what’s going on in my brain about this. Don’t read unless you like torturing yourself with reading.

I guess to start, I have only played Elden Ring (crucible knight more like crucible kill yours-IM JOKING), I’ve watched some lore videos on Elden Ring Bloodborne and DS1, haven’t played DS1 yet, and have all the art books except DS2 (cause nobody likes DS2). I’ve played very limited DND games. I’ve read lots of weaponry wiki pages but I have bad memory. If any information I say below is incorrect (like I say this sword is two-handed but it’s not or I misspell spauldor… spalder? Spauldron?) please correct me. I’m just using information I know and I’m always open to suggestions and feedback!

Random Lore Bits: Sleep and the Whale lived in peace but Sleep was always the higher deity. It created all that lives on the land and the TMBTE creatures. Sleep had many worhsippers but Vessel and the rest stood out. They were appointed as the highest knights of sleep. Vessel always had Sleep’s favor and therefore became Sleep’s vessel. Confusing I’m aware lmao. Sleep and Whale became enemies somehow and Sleep injured the whale, causing it to die. This time period before the Whale’s death was called Eden. NPCs speak of Eden all the time about how, “Peace and day has never been restored since Eden” “Eden is over” “If the whale were here, Eden would still be here”. All followers of Sleep become corrupt.

Bosses: Once killed, all bosses turn into statues and have branches grow out of them. They aren’t dead, just dormant. You can fight them again but returning to their fight area and making an offering of a certain amount of tokens. Once defeated again they return to being dormant. If you defeat all resurrected bosses (fought each one twice) you get smth called a Talisman of Blood (important later).

Regular enemies: Idk skeletons???? Giant birds??? Snakes???? Giant insectoids Idk bro???

Location: Like Elden Ring lands between, it’s called Fields of Elation. The capital city is either Nazareth or Jericho. I’ll try to incorporate Calcutta somehow. Geography is a mix of frigid coast, deep dark forest, large cavernous cave strictures, old ruined castles with mysterious rusty machinery inside, sparatic temples to sleep (all whale temples were destroyed), and the remnants of towns. Large trade road that goes through the entirety of the land is called the Path of Reason??? Idk bro I’m spitballing.

Currency: Tokens. Killing enemies and bosses earns you large amounts of tokens and like how runes work, you can level up you and your armaments with them.

Waypoints: Sites of grace, bonfires, more like RITUALS (I am not funny). I think calling waypoints rituals makes sense.

Flasks HP/FP: Estus Flask, Flask of Crimson/Cruelean Tears…. How about Flssk of H I G H W A T E R. Nah I’m kidding. No idea! Suggestions are open! I’m reading lyrics and nothings jumping out.

Incantations/Spells: Can be equipped to magic armaments and weapons! Kinda like you can choose between spell sword or just being a wizard.

Player Character: Tarnished, undead, hunter…. No idea what to call them. Robes and garments Very inspired by TPWBYT. Thinking the whale was an ancient god defeated by Sleep. Player Character is gifted with a certain power of the whale and was resurrected to defeat Sleep. Game opens with epic cutscene and player charter emerges from a cavern (TLYW) and goes through it before finding themselves on the coast of a freezing raging sea and an inviting forest. There’s probably one class you play as cause I’m lazy and you just collect armor and new weapons on the journey. TLYW style robes with greaves, hood, and gauntlets. Basic longsword.

Vessel: I’ve read the feedback and I agree that staff needs to stay. Live laugh staff. I’ve seen a few Elden ring builds where it’s right armament is staff for casting the long range stuff and left armament is a short sword, miséricorde (mercy dagger), scimitar(?), or other various short weapons. I like the image of this because I imagine him having somewhat light armor so if you’re far away, he spell. If you’re close, he stab. Spells are gonna be red. Change my mind. I like the Elden Ring boss Maliketh’s magic attacks so I imagine something like that. I imagine his boss fight starts with epic cut scene with him kneeled in a big arching cathedral temple type place and he’s like, “you seek to defeat the vessel of Sleep, foolish warrior? I have not known defeat against those of the sea nor those of Sleep” or some crazy bs like that. Half health, hands of Sleep show up and swipe and grab and Player Character. Just giant spindly hands that appear and float around. Attempts to break away form Sleep control but fails so that why he evil >:}

II: Dual wielding… what? No idea. I want him to dual wild some sort of straight weapon cause like drumsticks but honestly… sickles are so badass… Med. to light armor so he can move around a lot. Some sort of helmet with feather Mohawk. Boss area is probably in a fort outside of the main city. Just you and this guy. Get ready for a stamina check.

III: I’m torn between frenzied flame/black flame style magic user or spell sword. If magic, light armor. If spell sword, med. armor. Boss fight in a large old temple, candlelit and torn tapestries everywhere. Better have some fire immunity talismans on you.

IV: Halbert. All the way. Heavy armor my guy. Idk not much to say. Thinking banished knight ornstein inspo?? Boss fight Outside the gates to Vessel/Sleep’s castle. Vigor check time!!!

Chokehold: large dark cavern with webs strung about. It appears from above like, “A traitor to Sleep, hm? Pity. You seemed like you would be a good asset to the Vessel’s artillery.” Big axe time. High HP high strength boss. Vulnerable spot is probably its stomach area. Gives you armor, weapon, talisman, and incantation “Branches in a Flood” (roots sprout from the ground and entangle enemy).

The Summoning: Player probably stumbles upon the fight after meeting Aqua Regia and Granite. Mean killing machine. Idk what else to say erm… maybe player interacts with a sleep token symbol on a pillar with runes and it summons (pun intended) the summoning creature??? Stonehenge lookin boss area. Armor, weapons, talisman, and incantations are dropped.

Granite: Relatively peaceful NPC. Dialogue options are cool and it probably raises stats and alters your armaments. Quest line ends with Granite maybe just becoming dormant or it becomes a member of sleep again and sad boss fight initiates. Drops its armor, axes, root/weed talisman that increases stamina and immunity.

Aqua Regia: Chill and never ends in boss fight. Probably lets you summon them during other boss fights. Spear and sword. Gifts you new armor and talismans. Quest line maybe ends with them becoming too weak to keep battling and becomes dormsnt. You get their armor, spear, sword, rose talisman that raises FP, and a spell/incantation that shoots gold acid rays called Gold Rush or smth similar (Like Aqua Regia? Get it?)

Vore: Awesome boss. Inflicts poison damage for sure. I think we can all imagine how fighting Vore would be. In a poison lake haha it wants you to suffer. Armor, weapons, talisman, and incantations are dropped.

Ascensionism: Swords swords swords. Pulls a Starscourge Radahn and turns a meteor and player has to dodge lmao (cause yk ascending). Boss area is probably in a giant colosseum that’s old and crumbling. Armor, weapons, talisman, and incantations are dropped.

Are You Really Okay?: Player character pulls a stupid and decides to touch and inspect the strange incubator with a fetus inside and AYRO appears and is like “DONT TOUCH MY CHILD” initiate boss fight. Small castle is the boss fight area. Armor, weapons, talisman, and incantations are dropped.

The Apparition: Big guy, big hammer. Boss fight is somewhere in a forest clearing. No other ideas for it. Drops weapons, armor, talisman, incantations like everyone else.

DYWTYLM: Chokehold but with tiny dagger and looks like a giant engine. Probably shoots fire from the pipes on its body? Chokehold is PISSED if you defeat this guy first. Brothers fr fr. Boss fight in an old building filled with machinery. Speed is low but HP is super high. Drops armor, weapons, incantations, and talisman.

Rain: Your magic immunity better be HIGH. Renala style fight: Crazy hits, bad defense. Probably drops some crazy cool incantations, armor (really bad armor), and a talisman of fire immunity and raises your FP. Boss fight area is in a shiny crystaly forest area surrounded by weeping willow/wisteria like trees.

Take Me Back To Eden: The last boss before Vessel. Killer fight. Armor is also fire??? Difficult but probably super dope. Boss fight is in a SUPER large hallway in the castle of Sleep. Drops weapons, armor, talisman of resistance against airborne attacks.

Euclid: NPC that’s probably cranky and hesitant to befriend you at first. Still a follower of Sleep but respects the players fate to defeat the sleepmiester (I’m so tired bro—). Might fight you idk.Once dormant, drops and old mask of Vessel, a few incantations, and armor.

Endings: Endings one: You defeat vessel, sleep becomes dormant and no gods rule over the land. Creatures and vessels are resurrected. Endings 2: You defeat vessel and become the new Vessel of Sleep. No difference from first ending, you just chose if ya wanna be evil or not. Endings 3: If you acquire the Talisman of Blood, Sleep sees you worthy to fight them without using a vessel. Radagon Elden Beast situation. When you defeat sleep, the whale is resurrected.

[cyberdragoninfinity]

Oh I think I saw the post u meam and (u can delete/ignore this is its too far from the point and shit) the "The only yusei I like is a depressed one" is so. Idk? Harsh? Hes allowed to ve happy and still be written well, he doesnt need to be shoved onto other peoples sins when the series already has him doing that. He can have an implied decently peaceful life until death. Sometimes! You do so much and oull so much weight that you become something intangible and divine to someone whos never met but still thinks of u! And sometimes its one guy and sometimes its them and the last remnants of the human race out of a desperate love for both!

Idk, just let yusei be like, not suffering 24/7, they forbid him from even entering the WGRP for fun bc ig thats bad to so many characters, let him have a scrap

YEAH. YEAH. god ive been thinkin about this all day, this is so good anon you get it you're Logged In you see the Intent of it all...

again like. if the 'z-one isnt yusei' thing isnt someone's favorite narrative choice, whatever, thats your journey, but every time i see this "well he was ACTUALLY supposed to be yusei from the future for real!!!!" rumormongering i want to groan into my hands, it just feels like this desperate grasping at straws because they really wanted Sick and Twisted Evil Yusei Real and then when that didn't happen they had to make up some grand production conspiracy instead of just taking the "welp, cant win 'em all" with this one and acknowledging that's just not the story the 5D's writers wanted to tell.

i LIKE a good protagonist corruption/evil!protag AU, they're really fun, but you're so right, this sort of Insistence I see when people are like "no, it was GOING to be true, z-one WAS dark and depressed and hopeless future yusei," i just cant wrap my head around it. there's just this sort of miserable harshness to it that i'm not personally very into. (in general i cant really vibe with this idea of "i need my favorite character to constantly be suffering." just really not my thing, ESPECIALLY WITH YUGIOH CHARACTERS??) (also. like. we already did have that. with jaden. and honestly yuma also is fucking Suffering too. it's cool seeing a different spin on things. idfk!!)

i just want to like. grab people really gungho about this thing by the shoulders and ask "why do you want a Yusei who willfully betrays and gets his friends killed SO BADLY? why do you want to see a Yusei who hurts people THIS much?" I feel like it would have just been so jarring and unearned. it doesn't feel like Yusei even in his darkest hours (which imo is part of why Z-one is such an interesting character to me--the concept of someone who thinks if they can wear a fabled hero like a pelt, if he can Become them, then that will fix everything, then They can fix everything. that's so fascinating and fucked up to me!!!! i love thinking about it!!!)

this idea that in the far future Yusei's become this sort of folk hero, this "something intangible and divine" like you said, just from saving the world and doing good and helping people, that's just SO neat and has so much merit and is worth discussing!! and it's unfortunate that you have a Not Insignificant amount of people who just wont even consider the potential narrative weight in it, who are so sore Their Trope of Choice wasn't canon theyre out here weaving madeup production stories to back up their personal disappointment. just. idk. you can give the 5D's writers a lot of rightful flak for stuff in s2, but i do very much think there was great intent from the beginning to have z-one be Just Some Guy who's rotting in a body that isnt his own, and to have him reflect yusei in ways without Actually Just Being Him.

[butterflydustsarchive]

here they were again, just like the last time they were together, with a countdown hanging over their heads. it’s so eerily similar to before that a chill runs down her spine, lost in a sense of deja vu. can feel that familiar ache of her heart, too, trying to capture all of this to memory before time runs out. it’s why she’s merely sipping her drink, taking it slow, because even though she wants to commiserate with him, she wants to make sure he’s okay, too. her gaze is settled on her glass, fingertips tracing around the rim as she tries to reassure herself that she could do this, that she could be around him, and not completely word vomit a year's worth of feelings out into the open air. it’s only when that word, inconvenience, slips past his lips that her eyes instantly settle on him, shaking her head. “ you’ve never been an inconvenience to me, ” she says softly, each word genuine, tearing directly from the depths of her heart. she could never see him that way; his presence would never be a burden, only a gift. “ you’re more than welcome to stay with me, if you want. i don’t mind crashing on the couch, instead, if you want the bed, ” and maybe she shouldn’t offer it up so easily, but how couldn’t she, at a time like this ? it didn’t have to be more, or weird–– it was a friendly gesture. weren’t they still friends ? and it’s for that reason she finds herself nodding at his suggestion, that they could both have one question to ask each other, at least, instead of rehashing everything, bit by painful bit. “ one question, ” she repeats, affirming that yes, that would be okay, that one question was fair. she just didn’t want to spend all their time asking questions and saying things that would only further the pain come tomorrow, because truthfully, she’s not sure she could live through it, again. once was more than enough. there’s plenty she could ask, though, so much she wants to ask, but she’s holding back, content just to listen to him, to be here, in whatever capacity necessary. she’s known him long enough, however, that she can tell, instantly, he’s not as okay as he describes–– neither could hide anything from one another still, it seems. their connection was far too strong, not even distance could alter its power. it’s so strong that she’s physically aching to see the pain riddled across his features as he describes how he’s feeling, how he never really knew his dad well at all. she didn’t know him, either, just enough that she didn’t have anything kind to say. doesn’t invalidate any of miller’s feelings, though, not to her. “ i know you’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, or whatever, but i… i don’t think he deserved to know you. he never knew how fucking lucky he was. ” she murmurs, shaking her head before throwing back the rest of her drink. “ but i think you’re allowed to be upset, regardless. ” she adds softly, reaching out once again to squeeze his knee, trying to comfort him as best she can. it’s at his question that she bristles, slightly, unsure of how to answer, if he really wanted to hear the truth of how she’s actually been, how she’s felt this past year since everything ended. she precedes her answer with a shrug, once again tracing the rim of her glass. “ i’’ve been… okay. sometimes. sometimes not. ” follows it with a laugh, before continuing. “ i’m really glad to see you, though. i mean, it’s shitty circumstances, but… ” but i missed you so fucking much and i thought about you every single day. those words catch right on the tip of her tongue, biting down on her lower lip to stop them from falling. it’s then that she realizes maybe she’s already feeling some slight effects from the alcohol, as she’s unable to stop the next sentence that leaves her lips. “ you look good, though–– tears and all. ” she teases, hand reaching up to wipe at his cheek, at any remnants of tears that may remain from before. maybe her hand lingers for a little too long against his skin, pulling it away as she clears her throat. “ how have you been ? wait–– that doesn’t count as my question, does it ? ”

he'll follow her to the end of the earth, he thinks. that no matter where she takes him, he'll follow blindly, like it's the only path he's ever known. it's why it doesn't matter, to him, as he falls into step beside her— navigating the place he once knew like the back of his hand, that's failed him, over the recent months, that he hasn't had to recount, since he last lived here. and it doesn't fail him, that it was just over a year ago, that he knew his place like the back of his own hand, like it was his own home, still, even though it's far from it, a lot could change within that time, and upon settling in across from her, with a small but grim smile across his face, proving that not much has changed, at all. that it's still exactly as he left it— that she was just as he remembered, his eyes scanning over he featuresl, re-accustoming himself with the familiarity of her. dawns on him, then, that there hasn't been a feeling hasn't come as close as this, over the past year— that nothing felt as thrilling as settling in beside her, in the stool against the bar, nothing's felt as right, before. suddenly, it didn't matter how much time had passed between them, now that he's now focused on the fact that they're together, after all this time. couldn't deny that she's crossed his every thought, since they parted, crossed over into every dream. it's apparent over his face, as he settles in beside her, the procession of his dad's funeral far from his mind, as he observes her, all that he's missed. and he wants to verbalise it, to tell her just how good he thinks she looks, since he last saw her, but her insistence to keep that part of their lives separate, secret, only has him nodding in agreement. because maybe she was right, maybe they shouldn't be sharing anything of such, when this moment right here, no matter how real it became, was fleeting. " yeah, my, uh— my flight home is in the morning, " he agrees with a nod, glass raised to his lips, taking a sip of the whiskey she knew he needed, somehow. doesn't fail him, that no one else knows him quite as well, that nobody else would know his order off by heart, like she does. and he can't quite pin it, the feelings that travels throughout his bloodstream, his bones, certain that she could pick up on the grief that circulates, the relief, that she was here, to be by his side through it all. " i'm staying at a, uh, motel, or whatever— didn't want to be an inconvenience, to anyone, " both her and his mom was included in that, based on the obvious sigh that departs his lips, that rattles his chest. even then, he could agree that her suggestion was for the better, that neither of them needed to disclose the events that unfolded over the span of time they'd been apart. " maybe we could have one question each, " he counters, not wanting to reveal his own, just yet. " one question to ask, to see how we are, to ensure that we're both okay, " finds that he downs the rest of the contents of his drink, then, before signalling the bartender for another round, flagging them down, ordering each of their drinks of choice. even during that, he can't ignore the fluctuation of questions that swarm his head, that beg to be asked, though he chooses to ignore them, for now, to focus on the moment that lays ahead of them, with her hand on his leg, his own manoeuvring until it rests atop her own with a small squeeze. " i'm... okay, " he answers with a shaky sigh, knowing full and well that she sees right through him, just as she always has. " don't know why i'm so upset, actually— it's not like i knew him well, or anything, " in fact, the contact he had beyond they time they both visited together had been minimal at best. " it's not like i knew him well, or anything, " in fact, miller barely knew him at all, emphasised by that night they spent together, when the older male had expressed that he wanted nothing to do with him. " i'm just... fuck, i'm so glad that you're here, really, " proves that with a slight squeeze to he hand, her knee, where his own hand rests. " how have you been? "

[sassyabbs]

hi bestie, feel like writing a Fred hc? maybe how he would react to his sub trying to dom him?

Smut headcanons: Fred Weasley's sub tries to dominate him.

[Notes: oh Lord, you made my imagination fly so fast that I-

Btw, stimulating lubricant is inspired by stimulating gels, try them.

So let me know if you liked and it's what you have been thinking ;) that's for you all, and also tell me if there something wrong with the grammar, English isn't my first language and if forgot some tw ]

TW: NSFW CONTENT!, dom! Fred, sub! reader dirty talk, bondage, waxplay, overstimulation, denied orgasm, cumplay, crying, use of stimulating products, mentions of the war and accidents, subs training, oral sex (female receiving) and someone grabs the other by the neck but it's not suffocation (I think that's it).

Fred Weasley was a simple man, he knew what he liked and was attached to it. There were limits that weren't written, but that he had clear in his mind. Things that he for practicality he didn't bother to try, knowing himself as he knows himself, he knew he wouldn't like them.

As well the things that he loved were his safe place, like the joke shop he built with his brother, his mother's food and intimacy with you.

Your relationship was everything that Fred needed after the war. After the accident he had in the battle of Hogwarts when a wall almost crushed him, but luckily he only hurt his foot, he had a long time recovering. And having you by his side, following his orders as if you were the goodest girl in the world was comforting to him.

Your sex life took a deeper direction 3 months after you two became official. Everything was playful and passionate but then, one day you were telling him that you were just about to come and he demanded "Hold it up, babe, you don't have my permission" while keeping you all over the edge.

It was certainly unexpected, but you both had time to explore each other, build trust and try all the things that now were part of your daily sex life.

However switch your roles was never one of the things that you both have tried. It was always him with his hoarse voice ordering and demanding as he pleased and you following his wishes.

So it was a surprise to him when you interrupted his order to undress to tell him that this time you were the one in charge.

At first he laughed, incredulity palpable in his tone and the tautness of his shoulders.

"Good joke, puppet, do you want a kiss as a reward for thinking something so funny? Is this your way of trying to impress me?"

Of course, he started to get angry when you say that you weren´t joking.

He was the dom and you were the sub, why that would change?

He licked his lips and crossed his arms, rubbing himself a little when you didn´t stop.

"Stop this tantrum now, only brats do things like this and I have trained you well."

Part of him was wondering if you really wanted to switch roles, but you would have said your safe word if that was the case, or it had been spoken before. But it wasn't like that, so you were just being a brat, which infuriated him.

Of course, you didn´t stop provoking him.

That´s when he couldn´t control himself anymore. He walked to you, tall and intimidating thanks to his angry face, and grabed your neck to put your face in front of his.

"You want a punishiment? all right, that´s what you´re gonna get."

He led you by his grip on your neck to the bed, it didn't take much for him to bend you over the edge and give you the first slap on your butt.

"You know, you don´t expect this attitude from the pup that you´ve been taking care of all this time, but I guess I can remind you your place."

He spanked your ass some more with your clothes on, until he got tired of the fabric cushioning his hand and made it disappear with his wand.

He also took advantage of the moment and cast a spell to tie you up, so you had no escape and the hand on your neck disappeared.

"There and just like this is were you belong."

He stared at your red cheeks, his erection pulse in his pants at the sight, his anger lowering just enough for him to think what would be the next step.

The answer came from his pocket, he had designed lubricants and this one in particular was finished. He had brought it to talk about it, but now it seemed like a good time to use it wih you.

"Brats like you don´t deserve my time but I´ve got this lube that I´ve designed for you. It will make you feel warm and it will stimulate you almost to your orgasm, do you wanna use it in your punishment? Yes or no, are the only good answers."

You said yes, and with your consent he lubricated your entire area, without bothering to give you pleasure, and then put two digits in your entrance. The teasing about how wet you were beforehand was not long in coming.

Fred was starting to enjoy the punishment, now that he had calmed down, but there was one thing that he knew and it was that you were not cumming tonigh.

You ruined the scene tonight, disrespected him and continued to give him a bad attitude despite his warnings, this had to be something you regretted.

When you started to feel the stimulation from the lube, Fred laughed and spread your legs and ordered to keep them open "just as they should always be for him."

He stared at your pussy with a devil grint, knowing that it wouldn't take to much for you to start crying and moaning for his permission to cum. It would be great when he denied you.

He also decided that he could add something else to it, to make the matter more interesting. He fetched one of the red candles that you kept on the nightstand, lit it, and prepared to stain your entire back with it.

Meanwhile you were suffering the lube a little too much more than you expected. It was warm and it made you try to touch yourself to ease some of the pain. You even thought you could just come from that, but it always left you there, on the edge.

He warned you from the wax, and when you didn't say your safe word, instead you moaned loudly, he let a couple hot drops on your ass. Now you felt a little overwhelmed, but it was so good that it almost put you in sub space.

He unbuttoned his pants and released his erection, sat next to your body on the bed and jerked into a tight fist while painting your back.

When you couldn't keep you legs open from the overstimulation, he summoned two soft ropes and tied your legs to the bedposts, keeping them separate.

Now a couple of tears were gathering in your eyes and Fred held back his words of comfort, but he put down the candle and stroked your hair until the last stains of wax dried. It was a punishment, he could 't spoil you more than he already did, he couldn't stop punishing you for a few tears, damn you had not even said your word to stop, you were clearly handling it well.

"You look beautiful like this, too bad you made me so mad just to get this, puppet."

He positioned himself behind you and entered you with a long, deep thrust. He kept pushing, slowly so that you couldn't come and the excitement only accumulated in your belly.

"I took care of you so well, puppet, I tied you with precious knots, I ripped you orgasms one after the other, I devoured your little pussy everytime but you were a brat today, so this is your punishment. I decided that you can't come tonight, after what you did I want you to regret it and remember it and not try again. Now say you understand it."

After you could match the words in your mouth between moans, Fred accelerated his thrusts but he came out of you and let his climax paint on the wax of your ass before you could even think of cumming without his permission.

"Well that's a really good view isn't it?"

And it was, your skin was red from the spanks, then the wax of the same color dripped from your cheeks to the beginning of your thighs and Fred's white stripes on top of it all made a memorable image.

After that, he untied your bindings and wiped the wax off your back, but let the remnant of the lube stay inside you.

"You better not cum while you're sleeping, pup." He said before hugging you and start the aftercare.

"That was amazing babe, I'm sorry that you have to feel like that now, but is part of your punishment."

[isirumarin]

Summoned Souls

Episode 2, Bladebinder

Isira, Rumarin, and the wolf-dog Rontu set out down the mountainside together. Ice cold wind slashed at them through the trees. It would be a very cold night indeed. Isira considered herself lucky to have found shelter without rude nords and without having to suffer in an inadequate camp.

"That's a nice.....dog." Rumarin said accusingly as he watched graceful Rontu cut through the snow silently, the large wolf-dog's bright white fur blended effortlessly in the snow.

"He's my best friend." Isira smiled.

"WHAT?! I thought I was your best friend.." Rumarin playfully lamented.

Isira laughed again at his absurd antics. She hadn't laughed this much in a very long time. "We will see, Master Rumarin." She smiled at him warmly and he returned in kind.

Unfortunately, the moment didn't last. A menacing scream pierced the air and morphed eerily into a terrifying yowl. A whoosh and a hum filed Isira's ears over the growling. She was so disoriented that she only just realized she had been knocked to the ground. The giant cat tearing at her fur cloak and pack. She kept herself from screaming, but whimpered under the weight of the great cat. It then flung her onto her back and she saw Rumarin fighting it with luminous swords. She had never seen such things, but instantly knew what he had meant earlier: bound weapons! She rolled to her feet and cast a protective ward over both of them as he spun around like an acrobat and finished the cat off. They both breathed heavily in silence for a few moments. Rumarin sent his swords away and offered his hand to her. Isira didn't even notice that she had sat down in the snow.

"Thank you... where's Rontu?" She whispered. She was too spooked to call out for him, for fear of other predators in the twilight. "Are you alright?" It was Rumarin's turn to ask. There was no joking in his voice now. He inspected her face and turned her gently to look at her tattered bag and cloak.

"Yes... I'm okay.." she whispered..."oh! my things..." she muttered, stooping to pick up bits and baubles, supplies, food, and herbs that had been strewn about during the cat's attack. Rumarin helped her pick up her things and wrap them up in a bundle with the remnants of her cloak. "Let's get to the stables." He said solemnly. "I'm sure Rontu will follow our scent there."

"True." Isira rubbed her temples. "He is always such a coward."

Rumarin smiled to himself with his ever characteristic smirk, for he could be a coward sometimes too.

When they arrived at the stable house, Isira was surprised to see an older Altmer couple there, running the enterprise, and they seemed just as surprised to see Rumarin return from adventuring with an Altmer she-elf. Rumarin explained that they would be staying the night and departing in the morning.

Ulundil the hostler, didn't outright say anything but he did ask Rumarin outside for a word, leaving Isira inside alone with Arivanya.

"So", Arivanya chirped as she offered a seat to Isira, "You and Rumarin are headed out together to the college? He did tell you that his....robes are less than authentic?" She chortled, thinking herself sneaky. "Yes, he did." Isira laughed softly in kind, amused. Arivanya seemed genuinely shocked. "Rumarin? Honest? He must have definitely caught some disease in those ruins causing him to be infirm. The Rumarin I know would lie about the color of the sky as you stand next to him under it!" She scoffed.

"He seemed very healthy to me when he was killing that sabercat..." Isira trailed off into thought as she remembered the frightening experience. She was surprised as well. She had underestimated him by virtue of his fool's temperament... but he was no fool. He was a hero. He saved her. She felt herself blushing and suddenly remembered Arivanya sitting across from her. Arivanya's eyes were wide, and her mouth was open. "I'll get you some warm tea." She finally said getting up.

The two men came in together, first Ulundil with a large venison haunch, and Rumarin after, with a large bundle of wood for the fire.

Isira didn't know why, but she felt embarrassed, and hid behind her mug as she sipped the wonderfully fragrant herbal tea.

"You had a harrowing experience." Remarked Ulundil. "We will get you good and fed. You are welcome to stay here with us tonight, and before you set off, we will set you up with some supplies. The least I can do for you since you are taking this layabout off my hands." Ulundil added gruffly.

"Thank you for your hospitality and generosity." Isira nodded respectfully.

"Ari, help me a moment would you?" Ulundil and Arivanya went outside, leaving Isira and Rumarin alone.

Neither of them said anything for a long while. Rumarin bolstered the fire, stooping in front of it, carefully placing logs in their correct places for maximum effeciency. Isira watched him. Sipping her tea. With the last sip she set the mug down. 'Nowhere to hide now.' She thought. 'Why do I feel like hiding anyway?' She felt strangely warm and began removing her fur hood and woolen cloak. The fur cloak would have to be repaired. She fidgeted with the tatters, thinking about how close she came to death that day.

"I can fix it for you." Rumarin said softly, with his proper Summerset accent. "One of many talents." He looked at her.

"I'm sure." She smiled. "I underestimated you and I'm sorry."

"Psshhhtt!" Rumarin waved a hand. "Don't get carried away. I'll have to live up to....expectations.." He said drearily.

"I owe you my life." She said solemnly, looking down at her ripped cloak.

"Now, now. It's my job to be dramatic." He said quietly, standing up. "But if you insist, one meal a day, plus dessert. As long as we live." He stretched his arms behind his back, looking down at her with that mischievous smirk of his.

Isira laughed. "Very well then."

[wolf-and-bard]

Resigned To Fate

Prompt: Memory Alteration / Gaslighting

Relationships: Guxart/Vesemir (from one of the witcher-centric cards), Lambert/Aiden (background)

Rating: M

Content Warnings: heavy angst, suicidal tendencies, grief, mild gore, self-harm allusions

Summary: In the aftermath of the betrayal of the Cat school, Vesemir has not only his own school to hold together, but also a traumatised lover to care for. In which: Vesemir is strong and Guxart is weak and they find it hard to meet in the middle.

Word Count: ~2k

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo​

I.

Witchers survive.

Witchers endure.

Witchers outlast.

No matter the tragedy that befalls them or how difficult the contract. When they're being persecuted and beaten, starved and denied basic human decency. There's always a way forward.

Survive. Endure. Outlast.

Those are the thoughts Vesemir clings to, each sentiment falling as a whisper from his cracked and splintered lips to puddle at his blood- and gut-soaked feet, each word accompanied by the low wheeze of his shovel penetrating dry earth.

He couldn't fight for them, has to bury them. All of them.

He doesn't cry like the pups do, they haven't yet understood.

This is no genocide. This is merely a manifestation of what has been a long time coming, a natural course of history.

Vesemir cradles that truth tight to his chest. He survives, endures, outlasts. It's his birthright, duty, privilege, honour, burden, curse, cure, calling, punishment. It's a law of nature, the first one the new recruits learn when coming to the keep.

Nothing breaks Vesemir.

II.

When the wolves all sleep, the living in bed rolls pushed together in the great hall, the dead in their forever resting places of hard-packed dirt, the new day is already sloshing over the horizon in waves of muted scarlet. Vesemir finds no beauty in that, he doesn't think he will find any beauty in and around Kaer Morhen ever again. All that was tranquil about this place has been soaked in blood and so, it seems, has the sky. He fills a pack with their sorry dinner's leftovers - stale bread, hard cheese, dried berries - foregoes the soup and the spirits. Two deerskins of water and a faded quilt blanket. It smells like cinnamon and honey, like comfort he hopes. It's not cold enough to warrant any kind of coat yet, but halfway across the courtyard, Vesemir finds himself shivering. He unpacks the blanket and wraps it around his own shoulders, then briskly walks out of the keep's enclosures, the sun a cool caress on his stained cheeks. He's never hated her more than in that moment.

III.

She follows him even into the dingy half-dark of the outpost's only bedroom. The curtains are drawn, the room lit by a single artificial torch, but Vesemir finds another echo of the red horizon in Guxart's eyes as they meet his across the few paces that separate them. Seeing him is somehow still a bit of a surprise.

Guxart doesn't look haggard and wrung-out the way Vesemir knows he himself does. In the wake of their shared misery - the imprisonment, the wait, the release to find their schools in ruin and their charges mostly dead or mutilated - Vesemir aged a century while Guxart is frozen in time, barely more than a shell of the witcher Vesemir begrudgingly fell in love with.

His salt-and-pepper hair falls in curls just below his ears and his greyed beard looks freshly groomed, obscuring the permanent tremble of his lips, pressed together to contain the creature of mourning that grows in his chest. His slitted pupils are constantly thin so that they nearly drown in the red hue of his irises. There are but two things about Guxart that have changed in their trudge through agony - in physicality that is. He is pale now - almost as pale as Vesemir, who always used to look like a wraith next to Guxart's light-brown skin - and his voice has lost all its natural thunder. A husk, yes. But not irrevocably so.

Guxart may be broken, but Vesemir is barely more than cracked and he can hold it together for the two of them.

"Ves," Guxart croaks from his perch on the bed and Vesemir doesn't pretend like this is a happy meeting. He draws the door shut behind himself and opens the curtains with a precise blast of Aard. The light that filters in is grimy still and Guxart turns his back on it. It's the only thing he can do. In an act of protection, born from love, Vesemir had to shackle Guxart's wrists and ankles, just so the other witcher wouldn't hurt himself. Last time, Vesemir was nearly too late and that is not something he will stand to experience again. It's a precarious arrangement, temporary, but Vesemir didn't know how else to help either Guxart of himself. Bringing him to the keep would have been certain death for them both.

"I brought food."

"I'm not hungry."

Vesemir puts the pack down by the window and slips out of his boots, then crawls up on the bed and drapes the quilt over both their legs. The sight of it puts his gut in a twist.

This is where he used to let go. Relax his shoulders and drop the teacher, the torturer. Just be. Guxart gave that to him and he to Guxart. Had he any imagination, he would let his head fall to the brick behind himself and close his eyes, imagine it's just another morning after a night spent tangled up in each other, relishing dawn's kiss and each other's presence.

Vesemir is exceptionally bad at self-delusion.

"Will you have water?" he asks. Guxart shakes his head, remaining in his strained position, even when Vesemir jerks his chin to the side in an invitation to sidle up to him.

Guxart, for his part, is exceptionally bad at accepting love and pain at the same time.

"I'm not thirsty."

"Fine," Vesemir replies and they look at each other. It's not a staring contest like they sometimes held across the training fields when their students were locked in combat. It's searching for some remnant of joy and coming up short.

"There's dirt under your nails," Guxart murmurs without breaking the eye contact. "You buried them."

"I did."

"Mine also?"

"They took them back to the Camp."

Vesemir can still hear the hisses of cats, wolves, and swords alike as the witchers collected the bodies of their fallen comrades to separate and honour them. Vesemir suspects that what he feels for Guxart will be the last love ever lost between the two schools.

"It's all my fault."

"Come here," Vesemir says, keeping his tone levelled, understanding. He opens his arms a fraction, a more blatant invitation.

Finally, Guxart slumps against Vesemir, a heaving dead weight. Vesemir brings his arms around Guxart and presses his face into his curls. He finds little comfort there and lots of reminders to all that he lost at the hands of Treyse and Radowit's damned mage. Guxart presses into Vesemir with all the strength his restrained body can muster. They don't fit together quite so well anymore.

"They gave me a choice," Guxart says. "They gave me a choice."

"What choice?" Vesemir asks, mouth dry. He blinks rapidly as he rubs soothing circles over Guxart's sharp shoulder blades. In a moment here, he will have to think about how to feed the other witcher against his will, a painstaking process. Why keep at it?

Because he has to.

Nothing breaks Vesemir.

"They took me away one night," Guxart continues. "When you were asleep. They took me away and told me how I was to arrange it. Their death sentence. And they gave me a choice."

"What. Choice."

"They said they would spare them. All of them, all of our beautiful pups and kittens. They said if I throttled you, they wouldn't make me act out the treaty. It's why we were put in the same cell after that first week."

No such thing happened.

Vesemir knows.

He feared for their schools during their time in Radowit's dungeons, but his mind was sharp always, awake and waiting. Even then, he knew of Guxart's tendencies to slip from reality into madness fashioned by others. A consequence of the meddled-with cat mutagens perhaps, or a personal disposition. Doesn't matter. What does is that Vesemir was awake in the cell opposite - never sharing, never touching - watching his lover pass from one fever dream into the next as they kept him drugged, whispering to him, sentiments Vesemir himself managed to deflect when the guards - or his own mind - threw them at him.

This is your fault.

You brought this upon them, mutant scum.

They will die for your sins.

Nothing. Breaks. Vesemir.

"A lie," Vesemir sighs and presses his lips to Guxart's scalp. The other witcher shudders and the worst part about this is that he knows they will have this conversation again. And again. And each time, Guxart will believe a little less.

"They were our children, Ves. They were our children and I betrayed them. Traded their life for yours. If you had been given the same choice, would you have been strong enough?"

They both know the answer to that. If it had been between Guxart and his wolves, Vesemir wouldn't have hesitated to kill his lover. But that is entirely beside the point.

"There was never such a choice and what happened is not your fault."

"But it is. My fault. I spared you. And then I went on to kill them all. Treyse, he tried to stop me once we got out, but I gave the command anyway. We could have stood together, could have flattened all Kaedwen to dust, but I was greedy. I wanted you and the reward. I wanted... I wanted..."

Nothing ever. Breaks...

"You're talking nonsense. We were only released after the massacre took place, remember? Treyse was the one to commit treason, he gave that command."

"I have to die," Guxart says numbly. He doesn't listen now and his bound hands paw at Vesemir's thighs. "I have to die. You have to kill me."

"No."

"Please, I cannot live with this pain. Knowing it was all my fault, I cannot... how can you?"

Vesemir closes his eyes. Nothing. Nothing has yet broken him.

IV.

There is no containing Guxart forever. Vesemir knows this, Guxart knows this.

He waits, tends to his lover until such a time that he feels he's coaxed Guxart away from the brink of self-destruction at least. At the end, most of what hangs between them is fatigue and resentment, indistinguishable from the scraps of nostalgic affection they yet harbour. Vesemir does not remember what it felt like to love without care. He has to let go.

"I'm sorry, Ves," Guxart says when it's time to part, a whisper over Vesemir's lips in what will likely be their last ever kiss. "I know you mean well, but I cannot believe you. I have to repent."

There is no penance for a crime uncommitted. The only forgiveness you should want for is mine once you leave me here to grief on my own. You will wander and you will weaken and you will wither. Nothing will break me like you will, the moment you fade from sight.

Vesemir bites down on these thoughts. They're silly, selfish, and he is neither.

"Take care of yourself."

Guxart nods and turns and walks away.

And Vesemir doesn't break.

V.

Decades pass.

Vesemir fixes up whatever fissures did sneak up on him, he remains whole, he moves on.

Guxart may be out there, he may not. Vesemir will never know what fate Guxart has resigned himself to and that is acceptable.

It is acceptable.

Until the day Lambert comes home, announcing that he has given and lost his heart to a young cat by name of Aiden. He howls through the night and Vesemir holds him, the way he himself needed to be held back then perhaps, and he understands that all the glue he has been applying to his own heart was a sorry fake.

Vesemir has been broken for a long, long time.

And once he accepts that, he feels the years fall off his shoulders like leaves from an old tree, preparing for another winter. Possibly its last.

[oloreaa]

Vencuyanir Ch. 9 - The Medcenter

Summary: Their first conversation about what happened. A deal. Some first time parenting together thrown into the mix

Words: 8.0k  i KNOW

Warnings: descriptions/treatment of wounds, allusion/inquiry about sexual assault, (past) child abuse, sick and distressed child, hospitals (please let me know if I missed something)

Notes: Hi, hello my friends!! I am overwhelmed by all of the feedback and responses I´ve received, and I want to thank you SO MUCH for it. You are all amazing and I am SO grateful to you. HUGE thanks at @adikaofmandalore​ for all of the logic suggestions and @over300books​ for going over the chapter with me and being endlessly patient. 

▪ Previous ▪ Masterlist ▪ Vencuyanir ▪ Next ▪

……………

They were in hyperspace, moving towards some planet that the Mandalorian was steering the Razor Crest to. Elana stood in front of the mirror, examining the bruises on her face and arms, covering her skin, and tried to make sense of everything.

Facts first.

She and Bean were captured by the Mandalorian on Arvala-7. Bean was the actual bounty, for which he got a camtono of beskar. He took the payment and got himself a whole new armour made with that beskar. The Mandalorian risked his life to go back and get them away from the Imperials he had originally handed them to.

Speculations second.

The Mandalorian seemed to have taken a liking to them, in some way or another. He also seemed to have regretted giving them away, going to great lengths to rectify that action. He had risked everything in his job in order to rescue them, and now all three of them were probably wanted by the Guild.

Coming to a conclusion.

The Mandalorian, Bean and Elana were stuck together for an indeterminate amount of time, and even though she wanted nothing more than to never see that blasted beskar helmet again, she had to be realistic. If not for her own life, then for Bean's.

Elana knew that she was not suitable to protect Bean. She could not fight, she had nowhere to go, and no one who could help her. The only thing she would be able to do was to pick up jobs and earn enough credits to keep them afloat. But that was something that she could only consider to do for the rest of her life if there was not the issue with Bean being wanted by remnants of the Empire.

Thus, their best chance was, once again, staying with the Mandalorian.

Elana sighed deeply, staring at herself in the mirror. The bruise on her cheek where the stormtrooper had hit her was deep purple, the skin bloody. There were small scrapes all across her face, hopefully they would heal over the next few days. Her skin looked pale, the shadows underneath her eyes almost as dark as the bruises on her face. Gently using the water in the sink to wash away the grime on her face, Elana rubbed the dried and crusty flakes of blood out of her hair line, running her hands carefully through the tangles in her dark strands when she was finished. When she was satisfied with how her wounds were relatively clean, she unscrewed the bacta jar and smeared the cool substance onto her face and her wrists, careful with the sensitive skin. After she was finished, she stepped out of the fresher and saw the Mandalorian sitting on a crate, methodically cleaning one of his blasters. He looked up, and she squared her jaw.

"I think we need to talk," she said, shoulders tense.

The Mandalorian nodded.

"I don't think that I need to tell you what I think of your actions," Elana started off, picking her words carefully, "And you can obviously guess at what happened in that warehouse."

He met her gaze through that impassive beskar helmet, and she felt herself becoming furious.

"Why?" Elana did not care that she had asked this already. She wanted to hear it when he was not trying to constantly brush her off. The Mandalorian was quiet for a long time. "Is this because you want-- my offer?" Her mouth tasted like ash, jaw clenching at the thought of him cashing in the favour of yesterday.

His head whipped up. "No," he said quickly, voice hoarse, "Never that." He sounded so earnest that a part inside her relaxed, but she still could not help but stay wary, arms crossed in front of her chest defensively. "The job had felt off from the beginning," the Mandalorian sighed, a slight shift in his posture the only indicator for Elana that he was uncomfortable. "And when I saw that the bounty was the baby--"

Elana interrupted him, "You did not seem to mind when you dragged us away."

He was quiet again.

"I don't want a full on apology, Mandalorian, though Maker knows we deserve it," she spat, "I want to know if you will give us away again."

"Not to them," he said, voice low.

Elana scoffed slightly. "What a relief."

"I went back because it was wrong. The job, the payment, the bounty were all wrong. I had to go back."

Stepping a bit closer to him, staring down into where his eyes should be, she started to speak, fury burning in her. "You owe me, Mandalorian," she said quietly.

"If you want to be specific, it was me who saved both of you," he pointed out weakly, voice tense.

"Well, think again, tin can, whose fault was it that we needed to be saved?" Elana snarled, "It would have been something entirely different if you would have only turned me in."

His helmet tilted up.

"If it was only me, an adult, it would have been something entirely different," she repeated, "But the actual bounty was Bean. A baby."

The Mandalorian dropped his head down, and she hoped with all her heart that it was shame that crushed on him. She hoped that it would haunt him forever.

"So, I want a deal for you to make up to this." Elana hesitated at that, and turned the points, the logical points over in her head, chewing on her lip. "Isn't there a saying about you bounty hunters? You make the best deal for yourself and survive? Take what you can and make the best out of it?"

The Mandalorian nodded, voice grave, "Yes."

"I'm aware that I am not a fighter," Elana started off, "I am simply a hired caretaker, nothing more. But the only thing I can say about me, that I'm good at? I am a damn good caretaker for that baby." She pointed at the sleeping Bean. "Do you know how abused and neglected that child was when I arrived on Arvala-7? How quick he latched onto me because I would hug him? I will not let him fall into the hands of the Empire because that, that exact thing will happen again."

Elana breathed hard, tears starting to gather in her eyes, but she fought furiously against them. "Bean deserves a childhood, all right? He deserves to have his parents back, deserves to grow up without abuse, deserves to be on his home planet, wherever that is! But I cannot give it back to him. So the only thing I can give him is my love, and I will die before letting Bean become that scared child again. He has already seen too much violence in his life," Elana's voice was becoming thick now, the words coming out raw and jagged, pushed out between shuddering breaths as she tried her best to not simply fall apart in front of the Mandalorian.

Choking off a sob, she pressed a palm onto her face, turning away slightly from the bounty hunter who was watching her silently. "I'm sorry, I--" Elana automatically started to apologise for her outburst, before cutting herself off, squaring her shoulders. She did not owe him anything, she thought viciously, eyes burning, and she gritted her jaw, taking a deep breath to stabilise herself.

"Ever since we left the encampment, we've been dragged around, barked orders at, and I am tired of feeling helpless and looked down upon. So, I want a deal," Elana said, going back to her original point, "I want you to protect us until that Empire business is taken care of." Turning sharply to face him, she cut off what she assumed was protest, "You're a good fighter. You have a ship, you have weapons. And you owe us, both of us," Elana enunciated, "Get us onto some planet, help us find a way to get rid of the bounty on Bean, and then you can kark off again to wherever it is that you came from."

Staring straight at his visor, she could not help her tiny sneer as she gestured at his armour. "I think you've received enough payment to make us worth your while." He said nothing, only clenched his hands into fists.

"Make the best deal, right?" Elana said, knowing that she was looking right into his eyes, "Well, Mandalorian. I'm making the best out of my situation. Looks like my best deal is you."

The Mandalorian exhaled, his modulator crackling. Then, he replied, voice impossibly low: "Deal."

They stared at each other, neither of them willing to look away first, fists clenched at their sides, and only the sound of Bean stirring made them break eye contact.

The little baby sat up, big ears backlit by the light in the cubicle as he frowned at them. With horror, Elana watched as his face scrunched up, and he started to cry, ears almost grazing the floor for how low they hung. Hurrying over to him, leaning into the cubicle and putting him in her arms, Elana shushed him gently, swaying from side to side. All she felt from him was fear, sharp and sour, and images started to flicker across the bond. Of the doctor, of Elana being dragged away, of a huge needle poking into his side, him thrashing around until it got dark.

"Shavit," she whispered, before straightening and frantically pushing up the little one's robe, "Shavit!"

There was an injection point right above his elbow, the flesh swollen, a slightly darker shade than his surrounding skin, the band-aid on it loose from him squirming around.

"Get bacta," Elana heard herself say, voice shaking, "get bacta, now."

She dimly realized how the Mandalorian sprung into action, but she was occupied with checking Bean for other injuries, aware of the way he still sniffled and curled into himself. Tracing her fingers over him gently, Elana did her best to keep thinking happy thoughts at Bean, trying to calm him some.

"Mwa," Bean cooed, looking up tearfully, button nose twitching, and he clutched at her arms. She could feel that it was not something that actually hurt him. It was not an open wound, but it still stung a bit, which made him panic. Elana sighed in relief when it became clear that he was more scared that it would happen again than that he actually felt pain.

"Oh, honey," she murmured at him, "you're such a brave little boy, aren't you?"

The bacta jar appeared in her peripheral sight, and she grabbed at it, unscrewing it as fast as she could. Feeling the Mandalorian hover behind her, she ignored him, and started to carefully peel away the other band-aid. "Get new ones, please," she said on autopilot, fingers already covered in bacta, spreading it out on the green skin of the baby, carefully rubbing it in. Bean had not stopped sniffing, but he was watching her with big eyes now, quieter than before.

He was still scared.

"We're away from that place, okay, honey?" Elana started to say, hoping that her voice would soothe him some, "That nasty doctor can't poke you again, all right?" Huffing out a watery chuckle as he grabbed her arm and pressed his face into it, Elana traced his ears gently with her fingers.

Bandages appeared, and she nodded in thanks without taking her eyes off Bean. Quickly wrapping the wound up, she pressed a peck against the bandaged spot, and smiled at Bean, unable to hide how brittle it was. "You're all fixed up now, sweetpea," Elana said, and pulled his robes down again, scooping him up into her arms, "You don't have to be scared, okay?"

Careful of his arm, she positioned him so Bean could lay his head on her shoulder, a hand on his back, backing away from the Mandalorian who was still hovering behind them. "Thank you," she told the bounty hunter, her cheek pressed into the top of Bean's wrinkled head. Bean started to sniffle and whimper again, and shook, fear still in his limbs and lingering in his head.

"You're all right, honey," Elana told him, whispering it into his large ears, pressing kisses wherever she could reach, while never stopping swaying comfortingly.

Turning to look at the Mandalorian, she sighed deeply.

"I still have things I've got to say," Elana said quietly, mindful of Bean, "There are things that still need to be addressed."

He nodded. "That's understandable," he said, his voice rough.

Elana continued: "If we are going to be travelling together until we're on a safe planet, I need boundaries. There will be some general rules we need to establish otherwise this won't work."

"Of course," he agreed, voice so soft she had difficulties picking it up through the crackle of the modulator.

"I'm not looking for a fight, and I do not want to associate with you longer than I have to, and I'm pretty sure that the feeling is mutual," Elana said quietly, looking at the Mandalorian. "I'm only doing this for him," she added, bopping Bean gently for emphasis, and he nodded.

"Can I help?" The Mandalorian asked, surprising her. She blinked in bewilderment. "Uh, if you could set up the cot…?"

If there was a record for how quick a Mandalorian got the cot propped up for them, then he probably just broke it. As soon as he was finished, he pulled himself up in the cockpit with a "Be right back".

When Elana settled down on the cot, the Mandalorian reappeared, dropped down from above and landed quietly. There were dark blankets tucked underneath his arm, and he handed them to her.

"For Bean," he said, and she took them, biting her lips in uncertainty and looked away.

"If there is something like a crate or anything we can use as a makeshift pram? Do you have anything like that?"

"Wait," was all he said, before he moved around her, grabbed the smallest crate in the hull, and took out the tools that were in there before. Putting those into another crate, he presented it to her.

She took it, put it on the floor, and started to methodically pad it with the blanket. Using the leftover flaps to tuck Bean in, she set the crate right next to the cot, and turned to the Mandalorian.

"Would it be all right if we could get to a market in the next few days?" Elana asked before hesitating, "There are things that Bean would need, and I'm not sure if the Crest has all of them."

The Mandalorian nodded. "Sure," he said.

Bean was starting to slip into sleep now, but some sniffles still escaped him, and it was with a heavy heart that Elana traced his little face with a careful finger, using the bond to wrap him in a bundle of warmth, able to draw actual comfort out of her knowledge that they were safe now. They were actually safe for the moment. The bounty hunter hovered around in her peripheral vision, and Elana turned around, facing him, Bean's eyes now closed and his breaths even. The two of them stared at each other for a moment.

Elana hesitated, before adding what was lingering in her mind, resting on the tip of her tongue. "Thank you," she whispered, blinking fast as she felt herself tearing up again, "Thank you for coming back for us."

His head whipped up, body language showing his incredulity. It was quiet between them, and even though Elana did not regret her words, for he actually deserved the thanks, since he had risked everything by rescuing them, and it could not be taken back now. The words hung in the air, fragile like a silk thread, exposing more of Elana than she would have liked.

"... You're welcome," the Mandalorian finally said, and she was astonished at how wrecked he sounded. Maybe he truly regretted it. Maybe it was eating him up inside. A part of her wished for it. Another part was too tired to care.

"I think I'll get some sleep now," she mumbled, leaning against the edge of the cot, "That stuff from before... I don't know what it was."

"I can take you to a medcenter if you want to," the Mandalorian offered quietly, "Then you can also get a checkup for Bean."

Elana nodded, resisting the urge to sigh heavily. "That would be brilliant," she heard herself say, tilting her face so she could look him in the eyes.

"I'm sorry," he then said, before he dropped to one knee, head lowered while Elana stared at him in astonishment, eyes wide, "For everything. For how I treated you." The voice of the Mandalorian was so soft that she had difficulty picking out the words, but they struck something in her that she had no time to analyse while he was in front of her.

"I don't deserve forgiveness," he continued, words coming out haltingly, the edges jagged, "What I did on Arvala-7-- on Nevarro-- there are no excuses. But I'm sorry." His head was still lowered, the sound crackled through the modulator, and she could not decipher if it was his voice or his vocal filter that made it crack like that, "I'm sorry."

Elana felt her bottom lip wobble, and with horror she realised that her eyes were stinging with tears. Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a deep breath, and clenched her fists, feeling her nails dig into her palms. "We can talk about this tomorrow," she managed, voice thick, "I can't-- I can't think right now."

"All right," he whispered, "Take your time."

Elana swallowed and looked away, heart clenching and she felt as if she could not breathe properly.

The Mandalorian said nothing, just nodded once, before standing up stiffly. As he lingered for a moment, she could hear the leather gloves creak, him flexing his fingers, but then he left without a word, pulling himself up into the cockpit.

Elana stared behind him, feeling uncomfortably, inexplicably conflicted. She sat down on the cot, the baby starting to snore quietly, and just closed her eyes, resting them for a bit. Whatever it was that the Imperials had given her was still in her system, but other than sleepiness and limbs that were starting to become impossibly heavy, nothing seemed to be out of place. She could only hope that it would be the same with Bean, that whatever they had injected him with would not make him sick afterwards. It was still too early to see if it had any lasting effects on the baby. Elana found the backpack with her clothes where she had put it last, luckily having forgotten to take it when they arrived on Nevarro. After tugging out a comparatively clean set of loose clothes and putting it on, she laid down on the cot and pulled the blanket over herself. It was not long until she fell asleep, but the apology of the Mandalorian rattled in her brain for as long as she was conscious.

~

Something was making noises next to her, waking her up. Elana blinked groggily, turning her head towards the noise. It was Bean, she realised, standing in the crate in front of her, arms outstretched towards her.

"Honey?" Elana whispered, and the baby scuttled closer. Bean gave a low whine, and she frowned, sleepy. Reaching out with an arm, she pulled him onto her cot, letting him crawl into her side. He snuggled into her shirt, and whined again, sounding pitiful. "Honey," she murmured, "what's wrong?"

When Bean climbed up on her chest, and pressed his face into her neck, she was instantly wide awake.

He was burning up.

"Bean?" Elana asked, heart suddenly pounding in her chest, "Oh no."

Carefully sitting up, a hand on his back to support him, she inspected the little child. Elana felt her heart drop as she looked at his glassy eyes and droopy ears, the usual green colour of his face looking faded. The tips of his ears, where the skin was usually pale pink, was a slight yellow instead. Across the bond she could feel him having a headache and a hurting tummy.

"Baby, sweetpea," she whispered, tilting him against her chest, slightly bouncing him, hand splayed across his back. Pressing his nose into her collarbone, he whined again, and Elana looked up, up to the ladder leading to the cockpit.

Should she?

If Bean's temperature rose too high, it could be dangerous for him, and with how bad he looked and felt over the bond, it would not be long until he needed immediate medical attention. Medical attention she could not give him.

Searching her feelings, knowing that she did not have any supplies, she felt her heart starting to race. Should she ask the Mandalorian? Listening to the child's whimpers, her decision was quickly made. Not even bothering to make herself more presentable, she clutched Bean close to her and climbed up the ladder with one hand. Walking around the opening, barely visible in the dim orange emergency light, towards the captain's quarters, she stood in front of the closed door. Elana hesitated again, staring at the grey durasteel.

Even though there was not any reason now to fear him, it was basically hard wired into her at this point. Rationally she knew that he would not go through all the trouble to rescue them and then kill them now, but emotionally she was still terrified of the bounty hunter, no matter if she talked back sometimes or put on a brave face.

But when she felt Bean starting to cry into her, little body trembling, she knocked resolutely at the surface. It was quiet at first, so she knocked again. Recalling how he had slammed her into the ground when she had tried to lift his helmet on Arvala-7, she figured that she should not barge into his quarters where he was likely sleeping without it.

"What?" The Mandalorian's voice sounded from inside, slurred from sleep.

She knocked again, more urgently, biting her lip as she shifted the baby in her arms. "Mandalorian?" Elana asked, face close to the door as she tried to listen to what was happening inside the room.

There was a low groan and some mutterings before steps sounded towards the door. When it opened with a hiss, Elana flinched back when the helmet basically appeared inches away from her face, the Mandalorian hunched down to stare at her smaller frame.

Even without the full beskar armour strapped to him, he had the same commanding presence, and his gloves and boots were clearly tugged on while he was half asleep, tiny bits of skin poking out here and there. "What is it?" he asked, stance intimidating but his voice soft.

"I need your help," Elana said, staring imploringly at the visor, "Bean is burning up."

It was as if a switch was turned, and his scrutiny shifted to the small child whose face was buried in her shoulder, and he gave off a pained whine just in that second. The Mandalorian's posture loosened some, even if the tension was still thick enough to cut with a knife.

"What's wrong with him?" The Mandalorian inquired, still sounding a bit rough from sleep.

"He has a fever, and he's in pain. I think whatever the Imperials have given him is making him sick," she said, shifting Bean up on her body again as he wriggled, unsatisfied with that position. Looking down at him in worry, she noted that his eyes were brimming with tears, and his face started to scrunch up, a pathetic wail tearing out of his little lungs.

"Do you have a medpack? A fever shot?" Elana asked the Mandalorian who was leaning in the door, watching them, clearly tense and uncomfortable.

He was quiet, the only sound between them Bean's sobs, before he sighed. "Let me check," the bounty hunter said, pushing past her, and starting to climb down into the hull of the ship. Elana stayed where she was, swaying on the spot, whispering and humming into Bean's petal soft ears. She gently rubbed his back as he cried, becoming louder by the second. "Oh, honey," she whispered, pressing a kiss on top of his forehead, biting her lip anxiously.

He sobbed harder, pressing his face into her shoulder while she did her best to stroke him across the back, hoping that the gesture would comfort him some. After a few unbearable minutes, the Mandalorian appeared again, pulling himself up to their level.

"I only have a med pack for open wounds," he said, voice tense.

Elana closed her eyes, and exhaled in dismay. "Shavit," she muttered, a frown on her face.

Studying her, the Mandalorian tilted his head, and sighed deeply. "Hold onto him," came from him, and he moved into the cockpit, the door opening with a hiss. She trailed after him, confused, feeling the wet patch in her shirt where Bean's face was buried growing. The pain that was projected over the bond did nothing but to make her more anxious.

The Mandalorian sat down in the pilot's seat and started pushing buttons, reaching up to flick some switches. Continuing rocking Bean, she sat down in the left seat, holding on as they dropped out of hyperspace, the sudden motion making Bean cry out. The Mandalorian did not waste a moment, looking at the navigation system, and punched in some coordinates.

"I'm taking you to a medcenter," he said, voice low, skillfully swerving the ship around to another direction, and entering hyperspace once again.

At the shift in the G-force Bean whimpered, and Elana held him close, cradling the back of his head as she gently positioned it onto her shoulder. As soon as the ship was stable, the Mandalorian stood up and disappeared again, dropping down into the hull with a loud bang. Looking after him, the twist of her body made Bean unhappy, so she quickly turned back, humming gently at him. He was exhausted but still kept crying, feeling too uncomfortable to rest.

Sleep, she told him over the bond, but he whined in protest, the unnatural warmth making him feel dizzy. Sleep, Elana repeated again, more firmly, and to her surprise, he actually fell asleep. When the Mandalorian climbed up again, he handed her an ice pack wrapped in a washcloth, and she accepted thankfully, gently pressing it against the burning forehead of the little child.

Both of them looked down at the sleeping baby in her arms, heartbreakingly pale.

"We'll be at a medcenter soon," the Mandalorian said quietly, and she looked up, right into his visor, and clenched her jaw.

"Okay," she whispered, giving him a serious nod. Only when he stepped away and sat down into the pilot's seat she realized how close he had been, and her hold on Bean tightened.

"Drop out of hyperspace in fifteen minutes," he announced after a while of staring at the navicomputer, pressing some buttons, "Put on some warmer clothes."

With those words, he stood up, and made his way into the captain's quarters, presumably to strap his armour on. It was terrifying how he still looked as broad and tall without the armour as with it. Getting down into the hull carefully, and placing Bean into the pram for the time being, she quickly braided her hair, keeping it out of the way, putting on actual clothes. As she tied the laces on her boots, Bean started to cry again, not yet waking up but right before it. Scooping him up, she climbed into the cockpit and settled into the left seat again, rocking Bean while she hummed a low tune.

The Mandalorian appeared after a while, his new shiny beskar armour glinting in the light, and he carefully approached them, checking on Bean from where he was resting his head on her shoulder. It was quiet for a beat. "He looks a little pale," the Mandalorian pointed out, sounding tense, "Has he showed other worse symptoms yet?"

"No," she whispered, eyes on the worrying yellow-looking baby, "I hope it stays that way."

Dropping out of hyperspace, a station appeared in front of them, and she let out a sigh of relief, noticing that there was not too much traffic. The less people there are, the less likely that there are other bounty hunters. Even though it had not even been a few hours since Nevarro, she did not think that it was paranoid to already look for potential hunters after Bean, and she was sure that the Mandalorian would agree if she asked him.

He maneuvered the ship into the right lanes; it did not take long until the Razor Crest was landed safely.

"Come on," the Mandalorian said, powered the ship off, and turned towards her. Moving quickly, he went past her, and was already halfway down the ladder when she stood up. Reaching his arms up at her, he motioned for Elana to reach Bean to him. She raised a brow at the Mandalorian.

"Give him to me," he said, and motioned again. Hesitantly, she extracted Bean from her shirt, and reached him down, the Mandalorian gently wrapping his hands around the baby, holding him securely. As she descended the ladder, he held Bean in his arms, and the little one whined, pressing his face against the beskar plate.

An idea came to her. "Use your armour to cool him down some," she told him, quickly grabbing a satchel, stuffed a blanket and the water bottle into it, "Do you have credits with you?"

"Yes," he answered, looking a bit bewildered with the baby in his arms, a cheek smushed against his chestplate. Elana nodded determinedly, and pressed the button to lower the side ramp. "Let's go," she said.

They quickly left the ship, and went into an open foyer, the cold light of the sterile place uninviting. Making a straight line to the receptionist's desk, she stopped in front of it. A Cerean male held up a finger at her, gesturing for her to wait with a small perfunctory smile, and finished up his call. "Good day, welcome to Naamel medcenter, how can I help you?" His tone was bored, and he did not even look up.

"We have a sick child," Elana said, "He has had a fever for a few hours now."

"A nurse will come to you in a moment, please go to the waiting room down the hallway, and register yourself."

The Mandalorian stepped closer, and stared down at the receptionist. "No identification," he said. The Cerean looked up, and then did a double take, eyes widening at the sight of the warrior.

"Of course, sir," he was quick to stammer, his eyes darting between the Mandalorian, Bean and her, and he pressed a button on his desk connected to a visible comlink.

"We have a high priority case, please get to it as soon as possible," he spoke into it, before giving them a nervous smile and pointed towards the room they were supposed to wait in. The Mandalorian stalked past the desk, Bean in his arms, and Elana was quick to follow after she shot a polite parting nod at the receptionist.

"That was the fastest response I've ever seen at a medcenter," Elana told him as she caught up to him, a slightly wry smile on her face.

The Mandalorian huffed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Mwa," Bean said, stretching out a hand towards her as they entered the empty waiting room. Elana stepped close to the Mandalorian, both of them working together in transferring the baby from his arms into hers. In no time at all Bean was resting his head on her shoulder again, a big frown on his face, eyes teary, "Eh?"

"It won't take long now, okay?" Elana reassured him, patting him on his back, "A few minutes at most, sweetpea."

The Mandalorian was tense, and every time someone walked past the room his hand twitched towards his weapon holster.

"Keep your hand off your blaster, for Maker's sake," Elana hissed at him through clenched teeth, his behaviour setting her off, pacing around the sterile room. The only reprieve for the cold white paint was a potted plant in one corner and a framed painting of an underwater garden on the wall.

"No," the Mandalorian told her, fingers curling around the weapon. Elana took a deep breath in annoyance and glared at him.

"This is a medcenter, so: Keep your hands off."

"He's still being hunted," he said, looking at her.

"Bean getting treated is more important now, and I don't think the staff would treat him if you insist on being trigger happy," Elana said, voice dry. As if to help her point, Bean sobbed loudly, and she started rocking him gently again, pressing kisses against his forehead, not liking how yellow he looked at all. "Honey, just a bit, okay? You're such a strong baby," she told him, swaying from side to side, "We're gonna get you fixed up in no time at all."

"Mwa," he said, burying his button nose into her soaked shirt.

A Mirilian nurse came in, a med droid on her heels. The Mandalorian tensed instantly. "No droids," he told the nurse without preamble, and Elana's head whipped around to him. Was he being serious? Not only was that rude, but they could not afford being difficult. The nurse stared at him, clearly tired from a long day and dealing with difficult patients.

"Look, sir," she said, sighing heavily and kneading between her eyes, "We are understaffed as hell, and if you want a check in, you'll have to accept the droid."

Elana stepped closer to him, face set in a frown.

"We are not leaving until Bean gets treated," she hissed at the Mandalorian, before pushing past him and talking to the nurse herself, effectively ignoring him.

"Excuse him, miss," Elana said, "We need a check up, and something to lower his fever, I'm worried at how fast he got this bad."

The urgent words were underlined by Bean whining and starting to wail again, his sobs heartbreaking.

The Mirilian raised a brow at the Mandalorian, disapproval in her eyes. "I mean no disrespect, sir, but you're in no position to be picky about the staff. If your child looks as bad as this, I would suggest listening to your wife and letting a droid handle this."

"She's not my wi--" The Mandalorian started to say, while at the same time Elana injected: "He's not my husba--"

The nurse raised a brow, and held up a hand. "That's unimportant. You have a sick child, so let Bee-Two take a look at the baby."

Elana gave the Mandalorian a nasty look. "Yeah," she drawled, voice venomous, "Let the droid look at him now."

He sighed heavily. Bean was still crying.

"Ma'am, please go down that hallway, Bee-Two will accompany you to room A4," the nurse directed and turned around, hurrying to another patient.

Elana smiled at the med droid. "Thank you very much," she said, ignoring the annoyed huff of the Mandalorian.

"Please follow me," Bee-Two said, and started to walk towards the room the nurse had assigned them to.

"What is wrong with you?" Elana asked the Mandalorian, brows furrowed and daggers in her eyes.

"I don't like droids," was his short answer.

Elana scoffed. "Yeah, kriff. I can see that."

"Cut it out," he snapped at her, voice low, as tense as a springboard.

"You cut it out," she snarled, her last bit of patience snapping, "Stars, get yourself together."

The med droid led them into a small, brightly lit room, and gestured to the examination desk in the middle. "Please put the baby on this. I will perform a scan," it instructed, and Elana quickly did as it said. Bean whined as she set him down, claws outstretched to her, bottom lip wobbling. "Mwa," he called out with a sniffle, "Mwa."

Reaching over the bond, she wrapped him in a warm bundle of love, hoping that it would calm him down some. Letting him hold onto one finger, she looked up at the med droid. "Please step back. You can let him hold onto your hand," the droid said, and took out a big complicated looking scanner.

Something clicked ominously behind her, and when she turned her head, Elana saw the Mandalorian, blaster in hand.

"Stop that," she told him, this close to ringing his bell so hard he would have a concussion.

Bee-Two scanned Bean with a blue light, and then switched to a red light. "He has increased temperature that is above the normal range of his body," the droid announced, "Can you tell me what species this child is so I can make a better prediction of his recovery? Or is he a hybrid?"

Elana shook her head. "I don't know what he is," she answered, biting her lip.

"Very well. Going by the symptoms and readings of other humanoid species, then." With a whirr, it ran a diagnostic.

"Quite an amount of blood had been extracted from him, but it's nothing to be worried about. He will be fine in a few days with some rest. But there are substances I cannot identify accurately in his bloodstream," the droid said, and it was as if an icy hand wrapped around her heart. She stared at the droid, feeling her stomach drop.

"Are they dangerous, though?" Elana got out, sounding choked.

"From what I can tell, no. They do not bind to cells or are actively destroying them."

"Could you run a deeper scan?"

The droid whirred again, cocking its head in an uncanny way, before nodding once. "Very well," it said, "This might take a few minutes." Rolling towards a large, white device, it started to press buttons and prepare it while Elana and the Mandalorian watched anxiously. Bean whimpered, claws digging into her shirt, ears hanging low. She gently smoothed over them, hoping that soft touches were calming for him.

As soon as a green light started to blink, the droid turned around, and held its hand out towards Bean. "May I?"

Ignoring the Mandalorian behind her who audibly tensed, she placed the child into the droid's arms, and even though it hurt her heart to see the little child stretching his little arms to her, whining loudly, Elana knew that it was necessary.

The droid rolled over to the device, beeping in a soothing manner, and placed him onto the scanner. Glancing over her shoulder to the Mandalorian, her lips pursed as she saw that his hand was still hovering over the blaster. Giving him a look and a sign to put it down, Elana turned around again, and crossed her arms while waiting for the results of the scan.

"Why are you so tense?" Elana asked the Mandalorian in a low voice, "Because of the med droid?"

He said nothing, but tilted his helmet slightly.

"Are you serious?" Looking at him, not trying to judge, but understand, she furrowed her brows. "Why?"

He stepped closer, and it sounded as if he spoke through gritted teeth when he said: "Droids are unpredictable."

"Droids are helpful," Elana pointed out as Bee-Two beeped happily, probably having some toddler-appropriate programming installed in its software, and finished the scan.

"The substances are non toxic and should not cause any more damage than the fever," Bee-Two explained, "Once the fever is down, he will be completely healthy again."

"Thank the Stars," Elana exhaled, feeling like a weight had dropped from her heart.

"I can administer a fever shot so he will be able to sleep, he is not in a critical stage but with small children it can change rapidly."

"Do it, please." Chewing her lip, Elana watched as the droid left the room, presumably going to collect the shot.

Moving towards the table where Bean was lying on his back, Elana reached out a finger for him to grasp, and smiled at the little one. Mumbling encouraging praises and promises at him, the toddler was calmer than before, looking at her with big, dark eyes, the depth in them stunning.

Bee-Two rolled back, holding a tiny syringe, and it administered the shot to Bean quickly, the baby whimpering at the prick. "You can pick him up now. The procedure is complete," the med droid said, and she flashed it a thankful smile as she scooped Bean up.

He immediately clawed himself into her shirt, snuggling into her and burying his face in her shoulder. A quiet "Mwa" came from him as his fingers tightened to a point where it was almost painful.

"Shh, honey," Elana whispered and pressed a kiss on his left ear, "You can sleep now."

"Can you check on her as well?" Her head whipped around when she heard the Mandalorian voicing his request through gritted teeth.

The droid beeped once, before strolling over to her.

"Hand the child to your partner, please, I will give you a check-up," it said, and after a quick look at the bounty hunter, she placed the sleepy Bean into his arms. He instantly curled against the silver chestplate, ears turned to the back. She could feel the way Bean's mind slowly got fuzzy as the shot started to work, the fever lowering. The Mandalorian gave her a nod.

"Take your time," he said, somewhat awkwardly, "I'll wait outside."

Elana did not want to leave him completely alone with Bean, but she figured that it would probably be fine. If he bolted, Bean would bite him for her, she reasoned with herself, and since there was nothing to be done about it, she gave him an accepting nod.

The Mandalorian moved outside through the door that hissed open, and she could hear how Bean sleepily babbled at him.

Elana turned and faced the droid, before sitting onto the examination desk, her legs dangling on from the height. Bee-Two started to look over her, and its eyes focused on her cheek first, and then her wrists.

"Have you been recently freed?" It asked, and to be honest, she could not even blame it for the question. Elana was very aware how she must look like an escaped slave, especially in the Outer Rim.

"Something like that," Elana said, looking away.

"Do you have an implant?"

"Only standard ones, no trackers," she admitted.

"Have you been injured?" Bee-Two asked, its voice kind, "Are you in need of any specific testing, such as pregnancy tests?"

"No, none of that sort," Elana said, feeling a lump in her throat at the thought, slightly nauseous. Thank the Stars that the Mandalorian had never made any kind of advances on her, and that nothing had happened in the safehouse, probably due to Dr. Pershing.

The med droid beeped, and nodded. "That is pleasant to hear. I will run a scan on you now, and determine the extent of your wounds." Elana held still as it performed the procedure, and listened to it as it listed her various bruises, scrapes and wounds, commenting on the treatment that she had given herself already.

"I will administer a bacta spray on your wounds, they will heal you in a matter of hours. Be warned, older wounds might scar even with the treatment." Elana looked down at her wrists, and suppressed a sigh. There were worse scars to have, she told herself, and gave the droid a nod.

The bacta spray was cool as it misted her skin, and it smelled sharp and sickly sweet. Her skin tingled as the spray set itself onto her wounds, starting to become numb. Sitting up straight, Elana let the droid handle the cuts and scrapes that have already been looked after, letting it apply a new layer of bacta on her skin. Some of the bruises on her back the droid could reach better than she did, and it was a relief to have those treated as well. It did not take long until Bee-Two finished with a happy beep, and rolled back.

"All finished up," it told her with a little whirr, and the eye pieces moved in a way to indicate a smile. Elana automatically smiled back, and she stood up from the desk, her wrists fully numbed. When she peered at it, she could already see skin rebuilding itself. "This is amazing," she whispered, an awed smile on her face.

"Should I call your partner back in?" Bee-Two inquired, and Elana wanted to sigh, but it would be too much of a hassle to correct the assumption, so she nodded.

"Thank you," she said, and tugged on her sleeves, rolling the fabric down. The door opened with a hiss, and she could see how the Mandalorian had been standing right in front of it, arm curled around the little child, hand hovering over his blaster. He turned his head towards them, and his shoulders dropped with an exhale. Elana gave him a hopefully reassuring smile as she moved towards him, standing straight.

The Mandalorian stiffly thanked the med droid and placed some credits in its hand, Bean almost asleep against him. Before she knew it, he had pressed a hand between her shoulder blades in a not-so-subtle way to get her to move again. Elana glared at him, but chose not to comment, and when he pushed her down the hallway, she turned her head and called out a "Thank you!" to Bee-Two, who beeped back, his robotic hand waving in goodbye.

"We're going back to the ship," the Mandalorian said, and pushed a bit more.

She threw him the dirtiest look she could manage. "I can walk by myself, don't touch me."

He immediately put his hand away, but was still using his body to crowd against Elana, forcing her to walk faster, clearly wanting to get back to the Razor Crest as soon as possible.

On their way back, Bean quietly sniffed from time to time, but he was regaining some of his usual colour. After a short transfer of the baby from his arms into hers, Elana pressed her lips against the little one's temple to take his temperature, and was satisfied when he did not feel as hot to the touch as before. Elana held him close, the warmth and the weight of the baby comforting, and the relief of him being better making her feel giddy. Arriving at the port after a quick check-out, they made their way to and ascended the ramp of the old gunship.

As soon as they were safely inside, and the lock of the ship hissed, the Mandalorian disappeared into the cockpit to start the ship. The Crest lifted shortly after, and it was not long until the jerk and sudden roar of hyperspace alerted her to them being out of reach of the station.

Bean was sleeping now, his adorable snores soothing her frayed nerves, cooing at whatever dream he had behind those closed eyelids. Smiling at him, she gently stroked his little cheek, and felt her own exhaustion of an interrupted sleep set in. The Mandalorian dropped down again, but she was too tired to even flinch at the sudden movement.

"He's all right?" The Mandalorian asked, voice gentle, and he motioned to Bean. Not bothering to actually answer, she just made a "mhh" and nodded, her eyes starting to slip shut. He offered a folded blanket to her which she took wordlessly with a nod. "He will sleep like a rock," she said, and shot him a small smile.

"Good," he said, and tilted his helmet at her, "How are you?" His voice was unexpectedly gentle.

Elana glanced down, and was surprised to see that most of the redness had receded, the wound still steadily closing. "Looks nice," she said, her lips curving up once again, "Thank you for taking us to the medcenter."

"It was nothing," the Mandalorian said quietly, helmet downturned, and he took a step back, giving her space.

It wasn't, though.

And both of them knew that.

……………

Thank you for reading!!❤

[diegogio]

Crackhead au: no more heroes x danganronpa au

Synopsis: chiaki survives the death trap but with no recollection but a bitch who not only tortured her but dozens of people as well for some reason. The person who saves her is actually soda. He wasn't there during the despair brainwash as he was busy with a loved one being in need (trust me it connects with the au) with the help of miu he helps chiaki be fixed however she s much more rude and just angry nowadays. As the world becomes a shitter she gets a beam katana off of ebay and encounters izuru who has found interest in chiaki. He says that junko is deciding a new game as the danganronpa one had some malfunctioning so instead she has something better. A chance of killing the remnants of despair and become the number 1 killer in the world. There are 11 ranks and 13 people bunched up for it and yes they are connected to the assins of nmh1.

Rank11: twogami felt perfect helter skelter as both are apparently "perfect" at their jobs but are the first being axed off at the beginning

Rank10: honestly i didn't know where i would put teru and i guess his kitchen blade is similar to deth metal but its a stretch

Rank 9: this one was perfect as id definitely would see kuzuryu be singing in an empty stadium like dr peace. I added peko because tbh they fit perfect together and makes the fight more interesting

Rank 8: if you're thinking dark skin relation fuck you. if you're thinking shinobu and akane are strong but good hearted women yes thank you.

Rank7: do i need to explain this one look at destroyman s returns and nekomaru for god sake

Rank6: again same with teruteru. Mahiru and holly at least have the same haircut :/

Rank5: yeah mikan deserves a better death so letz shake has a good replacement

Rank4: both hiyoko and ibuki would be stage frwaks like harvey in despair mode minus the russian accent

Speed buster was hard; as in extremely difficult to replace. That is until i realized i could replace her with the oldest woman in the class with their teacher and have a better role implemented than dgr3 think of

Rank 2: ok so you realize how i excluded gundam from the ranks. I plan to play badman s role (nmh3 role is still in process btw) . So having sonia be badgirl being a crazy bitch and all is pretty cool

Rank1: ok how about junko is like dark star the big bad you ve been waiting for. Only for mukuro to come in kill her sister the jeane way and get a bigger despair and psychologically fucked up backstory that makes chiaki shocked. A bit weird but i think it fits.

Rank?????: nagito as henry is good dont @ me.

As for izuru i feel he has a did with the experiment being a bit fucked and hajime being able to be a great con artist like sylvia idk

As for people who survive you ll see

Fun fact. The dgr composer did the nmh1 ost which is awesome

[vanchlo]

The Partner / Chapter Four, “Telling”

Word Count: 11.6k words /  Story Masterlist /  Read The Assistant /  Read on Wattpad /  Song: Combat by Hazel English (click to listen) 

“Now is now. Are you going to be here or not?”

- Ram Dass

The trill of the ringtone brought my eyes open, but as soon as I do and the sun blinds me, I wish that I hadn’t. He was always the one to close the blinds after I’d opened them, something I’d forgotten to do already. 

“Hello?” I say, blindly answering the phone, retreating to under the covers. 

“Hi, bug. I hope ‘m not interruptin’ anythin’ important at work, but ‘m on me lunch and wanted t’ call. I miss my fiance.” 

A smile is already brewing on my lips, beginning the first second I heard Harry’s voice. It had only been hours since I’d heard it last, but somehow, it was always too long. 

“Oh, hi,” I reply, clearing my throat, knowing my sleep-ridden voice gives it away already. “Um, I’m actually at home.” 

“Oh, ya are? ‘s ev’rythin’ okay with you, Becks? God, yer not sick, are you? Of all times fer that t’ happen and ‘s when ‘m gone on a case,” his voice is heavy, laden with displaced guilt that makes my insides roil. Luckily, it’s not in the same way they’ve been doing lately. 

“Yeah. I woke up at 5 this morning and got sick.” 

“God, ‘m so sorry, bug, that ‘m not there t’ take care o’ you. Sounds like I woke you from a nap, ‘m-,” I cut him off before the unnecessary grief can weigh either of us down all the more. 

“It’s okay, Harry. I probably just ate something that was off, leftovers that weren’t good anymore. I feel fine now.” 

“Good, ‘m glad t’ hear yer feelin’ better already. ‘ll be home on Thursday, ‘m jus’ sorry ‘s not any sooner.” 

The first hints of a laugh fall from my lips, “Stop apologizing. It’s fine, I’m fine. I can manage a little throw up, Harry, you don’t need to say that. Believe me, I’m just glad you’re not here to see it.” 

“You stop it, li’l one. We’re gettin’ married, Becks, fer better or fer worse, rememba?” 

“Of course, but I’m okay. I only threw up this morning and . . “

He doesn’t give me the chance to finish, “Threw up mo’ than once? Becks honey, yer sure yer okay?”

“Yes, Harry, I’m okay,” it comes out accompanied by a laugh, making me miss his. “I’ll manage on my own for the next two days until you’re back. Thanks though, it’s cute how you worry.” 

“‘s what a husband does, love, what any person does fer tha person they love.” 

“I miss you,” it’s a soft murmur, holding more words than I’d know how to say. “I know we’ve done this once or twice before, you having to travel for a case, but it’s hard.” 

“I know, babe, it ‘s fer me too, makes me miss you so much,” the honey is there and so is the molasses, more decadent than ever. A little too much for me to handle, making me press that button. “Hey, what’re you doin’?”

It’s only a few moments until I’m squinting through the afternoon sunshine, feeling my sullen lips turn up into my cheeks. 

“Hey, there’s my buggie.” 

Perhaps, his smile couldn’t be bigger when I see it fill the screen of my phone. Harry’s one-hundred watt smile shines back at me, only growing as the seconds tick along. He’d started calling me that recently, a new spin on an old nickname. I think it was coming to be my favourite, although nothing could ever top ‘Becks.’

“Hi, babe. Don’t you look cute. What in the world are you doing?” my head falls back against the pillow as I move to lie on my side. 

“‘m in me car, duh. Told you I was on me lunch. I jus’ had it, went t’ a restaurant here. Had their turkey BLT and it was incredible,” he says it as if I should know this, but he does it with a curl to his lips. One that hasn’t left yet. “I reckon you look cuter tho’, babe.” 

“Thanks, but I think you need your eyes checked.”

Shaking his head, Harry doesn’t say anything. He props his elbow on the door of his Rover, sitting his chin in his hand. Today, he couldn’t look more handsome, and I’m sure that I couldn’t miss him more. I wanted to run my hands along the silky smooth lapels of his muted violet blazer, a new one. 

I know it was the first thing I saw him wear, suits, but he still dazzled me when he wore a new one. Sometimes, after a long day or a few hours that felt like a day, and I saw him around the firm, it felt like the first time. The color brought out the warm green of his eyes, ones that sparkle while he cards a hand covered with rings through his curls. I never could figure out why he touched them so much, or messed with them, besides assigning it to nerves. 

“How’d your morning go in court?”

The words come out in a huff, one that seizes his body with evident exhaustion, “Eh, alright. Not sure yet where ‘s headed, too early t’ tell, but ‘ll jus’ be glad t’ be done soon. This one’s been a real doozy.” 

“I know, I’m sorry. I can’t wait for you to come home.” 

“Same here, bug. ‘ve been sleepin’ so bad here, tha bed’s too firm at tha hotel and ‘m never tha right temp. ‘m either too cold or too hot, ‘cos I don’t have me li’l heater ‘round,” he hummed with a tilt to his head, a seemingly permanent one to his lips. “I can’t wait t’ come home, then ev’rythin’ will be better.” 

I missed him, more than I’d let myself tell him, or maybe even myself, too. The very words repeated in my head that night when my dinner came back up, shouting it in my skull the next morning when I hung over the toilet. Spent with tears, I ached with a longing for Harry. It lessened after my stomach had recovered, but lying in an empty bed or staring down the firm’s hallway at his closed door, it felt worse than all of the other times I had missed him. At my worst, I wanted him, and nothing else. It felt silly to miss him so much when he was only gone trying a case for four days, but I didn’t sleep well either, waking up to remnants of his smell that woke me with lies. Little did I know how much I could ever miss a person, let alone my favorite one. 

/

Returning to work hadn’t been as difficult as I feared it would be, but at times, it was worse. Rose and I were just finishing up a case before I was set to work with Harry again after he finished his upcoming one, something I was hardly able to wait to do. Luckily, I was still able to be there with Rose to help present the case in court, seeing as I only called in the one day. I couldn’t really otherwise, and the long sessions in court were catching up with me. I hadn’t been able to keep much food down, and even when I did, I was so tired from the poor sleep I was getting. Yesterday and the day before, I had snuck in a nap on my sofa, and that’s what was next on my agenda. I could hardly wait.

Ripping open the door to my office, something causes me to stop in my footsteps. Afterwards, I wouldn’t be able to put my finger on it, if somebody had asked. It was just that feeling again, and maybe not being able to remember if the light was on even though I’d turned it off. Or, maybe the other way around. Regardless, my eyes began a scan of the room, but they didn’t get very far.

“Hi, my buggie girl.” 

“Harry,” it’s the only syllable I can get out, astonishment stealing all of the others from my lips. That and my forgetting speaking altogether when I dash across the room, giving him enough time to stand up before I collide with him. 

The sound of an exhale accompanies the surprise in his voice, “Oh, hi, baby. Did I surprise ya?”

His giggle adds to the concoction of him that pours the word ‘calm’ over me, starting with his safe arms around me. His smell. The sound of his wheezy laugh against my head. 

“Yeah, you’re good at that.” 

“Reckon I am. I got done early and found an earlier flight,” he remarks, humorous pride in his deep drawl. Molasses found althroughout. “How’re you doin’ t’day, love? ‘m sorry we didn’t get t’ talk on tha phone this mornin,’ bloody phone tag ‘s t’ blame. I hope yer hearin’ t’day went well.” 

“It’s okay. I’m just so glad you’re here now,” honesty weighs heavy in my words, and in my eyes when I meet his greens. A color I didn’t know that I could miss, but I did, all those years ago. Those dimples too that fall into his cheeks before my eyes. 

“Couldn’t be happier t’ be home . . even if I lost me case, but ya win some and you lose some,” Harry hums, thumbing at the divot in my own cheek. “Missed you so much.” 

I feel like I can finally take a breath again when he hugs me against his front, sponging kisses along the top of my head. I felt like me again with him home, welcoming him with kisses and later, a night between the sheets. 

/

Yet, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep lying to myself about that, knowing that my feeling of mine told me otherwise.

The day after he came home was no different, but little did I know how it would undoubtedly pass any expectations I could ever have. Any possibilities whatsoever. 

I woke with a start, and a rock in my stomach, just like yesterday, and all of the times before. I knew what was going to happen before I even moved, that the second I did it would be a race to the bathroom. Thankfully, I hadn’t missed and hit the floor yet, but I felt like I was going to each and every time. It was just a matter of when. 

He wasn’t up yet, and I wished for the past when I could turn over and cuddle with him to wake up, not by throwing up. But, I was thankful that he wasn’t awake because he thought I didn’t see it, but I did. I saw the way his face fell when I told him that I’d gotten sick again, despite his lawyer expertise concerning those blessed features of his. 

This time, I made it too, wretching into the toilet. I thanked God, if there was one, that my side of the bed was closer to the bathroom. I also thanked him that Harry didn’t wake up and walk in until after I was done, or I hoped so. 

“Oh, no. Not again, bubs,” he sighs in his raspy drawl thick with leftover sleep. I’m void of a response, head in my arm propped over the toilet bowl. 

The swirl of soiled water disappears before me, having flushed it the second I heard his footsteps. We’d been through heaven and hell together, and yet there were still some things that were embarrassing. Throwing up was one of them. The first signs of relief begin to wash over me like cold water on a scorching day from a wet rag he swipes over my cheek. 

“I dunno, Becks, this ‘sn’t seemin’ t’ let up. ‘s been a few days now, maybe you should go t’ tha doctor, love.” 

“It’s okay, Harry. What could they do anyway for a stomach bug?” my sigh comes, the words muffled against my arm when I lay my head down, grimacing at the smell that’s stained the inside of my mouth. I feel like taking the rag I hold against my head and scrubbing my tongue until I can’t taste it anymore. It seemed to always be there off to the side like a threatening storm, the last couple of days since this had started. 

“I dunno, ya don’t know ‘til ya try,” he comments, feet making soft noises on the floor. I don’t hear the run of the tap like I did a moment ago, instead the unscrewing and screwing of something before the sloshing of liquid. “I jus’ dunno what it could be, a stomach bug doesn’t last this long, does it?” 

A mumbled reply lacking answers graces my lips after he places a cup in my hand. Lifting my aching head, I find purple mouthwash sitting in the tiny cup we use for brushing our teeth. 

“Have you ever had somethin’ like this befo’, bug?”

Taking my time swishing the minty liquid around in my mouth, I almost sigh at the welcomed taste, willing the previous one away. After shaking my head at him, I nearly choke gargling on the peppermint tasting liquid when I hear his next comment. 

“Let’s jus’ hope yer not pregnant, dunno how you would be tho,’” Harry titters, humor threaded throughout his tired words. “Well, we certainly do know how babies are made, we sure do loads o’ it-.” 

“Stop, Harry, it’s not funny,” I don’t intend for it to come out in a near retort, but I can’t stop myself. 

“Why not? It wouldn’t be bad if ya were, we’ve always wanted babies.” 

My response comes, short and to the point, “You know why. We’re getting married in August, Harry.” 

“Things can be moved ‘round, Becks, a baby can’t.” 

“Stop talking about this like I’m pregnant, because I’m not,” I say, feeling my head fill with another wave of dull pain when I get to my feet. His hand catches my elbow when I begin to sway, legs feeling like Jello. 

“Didn’t say you were, bug, ‘m sure ‘s jus’ a stomach thing. They pass afta a few days, so you should be right as rain again soon,” Harry assures me, stepping to the side to face me. Despite his angering comment, a cooling sense of relief comes when his lips touch my clammy forehead. “Maybe you should stay home again, sleep it off.” 

“I’m okay, I feel a little better now. My stomach goes hard, I throw up, and then it’s done. Like clockwork.” 

“‘Kay, but if ‘s not gone in two days, I want you t’ go in and be seen . . ‘m gonna hop in tha shower if you wanna join me,” Harry rasps, cocking his head to the side as the corners of his lips lift, honey dripping from them. I always loved the way he looked in the mornings. The disheveled hair that sometimes stuck up in all directions, sunshine glazing over in his eyes, and how those lazy lips always held a smile for me. This time, it was dripping with mischief, a look that I knew all too well. 

“Yeah, and we both know what that’s going to lead to, Harry. Not a lot of actual showering.”

That M word grows on those watermelon pink lips of his, ones I could just eat up. “Ya, we could practice makin’ a baby, if you like. Y’know, again.” 

“Stop,” it’s the closest I’ve come to giggling this morning, or any affability I’ve harbored towards this topic. “But, no. I’m sorry, I don’t really feel up to it.” 

“Fine, we’ll jus’ shower fer real this time, love. ‘ll even wash you up, since yer not feelin’ good. I bet it’d help t’ feel all clean aftawards.” 

“Okay,” I sigh, relishing the satisfaction gracing his cheeks masked by new stubble the color of chocolate. 

“I don’t like my baby bein’ all sick,” Harry hums with his lips against my temple, the smell of vanilla and sandalwood lulling my eyes closed. It felt as if there were few times when knots didn’t riddle my insides lately, but right now, in his arms, I was free. 

/

It had been bothering me all day, ever since Harry’s comment. If I was telling myself the truth, it had been gnawing away at the insides of my brain for longer than that. There was so much inside of me telling me that his suspicion was right when all I wanted was for it to be wrong. If I was doing that truth thing again, of course, there was a remaining part of me that wanted it to be right, but it was miniscule at best. No more was said about it after that, but that fact in itself only made it harder to forget. Even if I had wanted to speak to him about it, he had been in partner meetings all day. I knew he was due for lunch here soon, and that’s what led me to run a quick errand before then, nabbing the car keys from his right drawer where he always left them. 

I certainly didn’t think that this was how it would be happening, at Harry’s firm of all places. Our firm? Guilt seeped under my skin the second I had put my plan into action, well aware that he had no idea what I was doing. Tears had been close all day long, since the time those joking words had left his lips. Sure, the blame went to him on that, but I couldn’t have known what it would lead to, either. We both could deserve the blame for this entire thing. 

The second it’s done, I find that I can’t get myself to follow through. The closest thing I’ve felt to relief all day comes when I see my watch reads one o’clock. It feels like every person I pass knows my secret, despite that being an impossibility and more. The only person who could have the smallest inkling is the person whose door I stop in front of, because I’m not sure how I can do this. Or, that I can. I’ve surprised myself by getting this far in my plan. 

When the door opens for me, I can’t decide if I feel lucky that he made the next decision for me. “Hi, bug. How’s yer mornin’ been? ‘ve missed you, y’know. Oh, whatcha got there? Did ya get me lunch?” his words couldn’t be sweeter. Neither could his hand that brushes against my cheek, sliding down my arm next. Alarms blare inside of me, yelling at me to tell him while others repeat the opposite. I don’t know why, but doubt floods me within milliseconds. I know that he wouldn’t be upset, but then how come I worry that he would be? “Ev’rythin’ okay, Becks?”

“I-I . . ,” I try and my failure is almost immediate. The only thing that I succeed at is pushing him back into his office, and closing the door. 

“Becks, what’s wrong?” urgency shines through in his voice. It’s the last thing that I can find, in my hand or my lips. My name graces my ears a few times more as I stare at the floor, not knowing how I could ever say this. Not just that, unsure of how I can make the next move, knowing that it very well may change my life from this moment on. 

“I-I can’t do it, Harry.” 

“You can’t do what, bug? Ge’mme lunch?” his words are carried with that breathy laugh of his. I had been doing a good job so far today, far too good of a job. That ends when the first tear greets my cheek, and my lips begin to wobble. “Becks, what’s tha matter? Yer worryin’ me, buggie.” It shows all over him, even in the way his hand comes to cradle my cheek, wiping away the tears. Worry. 

My attempt at a deep breath is futile at best, and with a sigh marked by tears, I throw caution to the wind. I do it. 

“Can you, please? Because, I can’t, Harry. I can’t look at it, I’m too scared,” my words have been wicked away, the moisture in my throat too. All of it. Then, the breath in my lungs grows when I lift my hand. Any composure he had had is gone in a blink. 

“Becks . . ,” now, his words are kidnapped from him, too. Come on, one of us has got to do it, and it won’t be me. “Honey, I was only jokin’ this mornin.’ You didn’t hafta take one . . Wait, yer serious, arentchu, Becks?”

“Y-Yeah. I-I missed that pill what, like two weeks ago when I lost my pack, a-and, I still took it but it might have been too late,” the words are thick on my lips, caught between the sobs that paint my cheeks with tears. They’re soon shed onto his button up when he presses me against his front. 

“Oh, Becks. ‘m sure ‘s fine. Ya still took it, that’s all that matters, honey.” 

I can’t remember the last time I couldn’t swallow like this, or when my heart felt like it was going to jump from my chest. It doesn’t help that my chest shakes with each new sob dealt by my lips. How do I even say it? I still can’t say the word, and how is that going to fucking work if it’s true?

“I-I was supposed to get my period last week, Harry, and I didn’t. I checked after you said that this morning and- I’m so sorry,” breaths fill my lungs hastily, but the confession doesn’t tell my heart it’s okay to stop racing a nonexistent opponent. Neither does the long sigh that leaves my fiance’s lips. 

“Becks, honey, you have nothin’ t’ be sorry ‘bout. Promise,” the sensation of his warm breath against my ear distracts me, but only for a mere moment. 

The devil and angel inside of my head continue to scream at me to get it over with. One insists so that then I can take the biggest breath of relief while the other cackles that my life is never going to be the same. Somehow, I find the courage to step away and to find his eyes that have grown glassy. One corner of his mouth lifts to send some sunshine my way, but I feel nothing but the mid November cold outside his window. 

“It may very well be negative, y’know,” he assures me, reaching his other hand out to cradle my cheek once again. His thumb swipes back and forth on the skin, wiping away the tears like the contraption on a car’s windshield. 

“And if it’s not?” my voice is sheepish and nothing else, framed by sniffling. 

“Then, it’ll be okay too, promise. We spoke ‘bout if somethin’ like this were t’ happen, befo’ we even started havin’ sex. So, we were prepared. We’d keep it, of course, and we’re gettin’ married soon anyway, bug. Babies were always in tha plan, maybe we’ll get our wish a tad early, ‘s all. If so, we can reschedule tha wedding t’ be early or later on. Promise you it’ll be okay, my Rebecca Ann,” I’m not sure of the last time I had heard his voice dripping with so much sweetness. This time, I can’t tell if it does anything to fill the cracks . . to fix it. “I wantchu t’ know that befo’ I turn it over and read it. And, that I love you.” 

“I love you too, Harry . . so much,” I whimper, my lips soon stilled with a kiss from his. “You’re not mad?”

“No, ‘course not, bug. Why in tha world would I be mad? We’ll be okay no matter what it says, and ‘ll be happy either way. Reckon ‘ll be over tha bloody moon if it turns out one way,” his grin couldn’t possibly reach any higher. Another chunk inside of me is filled with the sourness of guilt, because everything has drained out of me, including any happiness I could find. “I know you would be too- or would you? Ya really don’t seem okay, Becks.” 

“I dunno,” my shoulders rise and fall with the two parts to my sentence. “Just scared . . We had this big, perfect plan and . . “

“I know, buggie, but nothin’ ‘bout our entire relationship has ever been traditional or somethin’ close t’ normal, but we’ve turned out okay. Much better than okay, ‘d say. We’ll be okay afta this too, we always are. ‘ll always take care o’ you, Becks, and our babies one day too,” he only reminds me once again of his talent of words and choosing the right ones. I suffice my absence for them with a hand lacing with his, and squeezing it. It just so happened to be my left one, and he lifts it to press a kiss to my engagement ring. 

The closest I can manage to a swallow is when his lips press below my eye, and I hear his words, “We’ll be alright.” 

“I know,” at first, I’m not sure if he had heard me. When he nods, I know. But do I really believe it?

“Ready?” my favorite voice in the entire world says. I’m not, but my heart can’t go on any longer with this suspense, and so my head answers for me. “Alrighty, then,” Harry murmurs, giving my clammy hand a squeeze. Unable to decide where to look, I can’t take my eyes away, despite being uncertain how fast I’ll get the answer then. 

When I think back on it later, I’d never be able to conclude whether I wish he had kept his lawyer composure or not. The way I told the story was that the second Harry turned the pregnancy test over and his eyes found it, they lit up like a Christmas tree. There couldn’t be another ray of light inside of them, and I knew.

“We’re gonna be parents, Becks,” he says in a voice choked with emotion, it too appearing in his eyes that echo mine. 

“Really?” it’s as if I had been socked in the gut, because the air whooses out of me in that instant. His nodding is emphatic as he turns it around to face me. If I hadn’t believed him before, my denial is renounced when I see the word that had been a question in my mind all morning. 

“We’re havin’ a baby,” Harry wheezes with wet words, dropping his arm. I don’t remember his coming around me in a hug, or replying to him, echoing those same words. 

It’s all a blur, his words of excitement about becoming a father, my obligatory remarks likened to his. Moments later, I sit there on his sofa wondering what the hell just happened. Turning over the oblong plastic thing in my hands, the one word goes in and out of focus before the tears that flood my eyes. 

Pregnant

I’m going to be a mum. 

How?

I don’t even know how to be one. I don’t know the first thing about changing nappies. I try to eat healthy, but it never works. I hardly get enough sleep and drink enough water, as it is. Sure, I thought I’d have kids by 25, and I’m newly 28, but I still feel so young. I most definitely don’t feel ready to become a mother. 

No, we’re supposed to get married this summer. I already picked out the dress. It’s perfect, and I won’t be able to fit into that with a watermelon in there, and fucking grapefruits on my chest. Wait, how far along would I be at the wedding?

Shit, I’d be ready to pop by then, if not having done so already. Fuck. 

“No,” it flies from my lips. I don’t stop it as my head tips into my hands, spilling loud sobs there. The sound of my crying is the only thing that I hear. No, there are no words from Harry or consolation, because the Dad To Be couldn’t have jumped higher from the news. He’s next door telling Myles, and I couldn’t feel lower. 

How can this be? We were so careful. I took my pill every day at dinnertime, but I thought still taking the one after almost missing it entirely was fine. The package said so, and I had had some spotting not long after, a few days of it. The pill had made my periods lighter and easier, so I just assumed it was my period. I went through all of the typical stuff - breakouts, sore boobs, the cramps. 

“Goddammit,” I mutter under my breath, embracing the sting of my fingernails digging into my scalp. “They’re fucking pregnancy symptoms too.” 

And then, there was the vomiting. It wasn’t just in the mornings, but it had been sporadic the last few days. I thought that I had come down with a bug of some sort, but no. There was a baby growing inside of me, that’s why. It was the explanation for everything - my achy boobs, the cramping, the spotting, and the throwing up. 

Harry’s baby. 

Our baby. 

Holy fucking shit. 

As the clock in Harry’s office announces every passing second, my trip on the Guilt Express only carries on, because the Happiness Train was only moving farther away from me. Instead, the stops on my ticket are Unplanned, It’s Too Soon, What About The Wedding, We Just Got Engaged, We’re Fucking Moving Houses So Where Would A Baby Go, and This Is All A Dream, Right? 

The sights of Harry’s office swim into view, but their familiarity does nothing to calm me. My heart still thrashes inside of my chest, and I’m afraid it may make a run for it. Suddenly, the announcement blares inside of my head again. Harry and I are having a baby in nine months. With a sniffle, my lips wobble as my head slowly falls. Dropping the pregnancy test on my lap, my hand inches towards my body. 

It’s no different when I feel it, my hand caressing my flat stomach. Nor does it look anything but how it has for as long as I can remember. I’d be lying to myself if I said it didn’t feel any different inside of me, because it does. I can’t see it, or feel it, but the words appear inside of my head momentarily. 

There’s a baby in there, in my belly. My baby. I’m its mum, and Harry is its dad. They’re ours. They could be a boy or a girl. They may not be bigger than my fingernail, I suppose, but God, they’re ours. The sourness builds upon each other, and I can’t hold it back anymore, soon finding refuge in Harry’s trash bin. Whimpers leave my lips as the contents of my stomach do too. 

For one of the few times, I thank God that Harry wasn’t there. I busy myself with wrapping up the bag, replacing it with a new one, and lightning some candles. It’s not enough to remove the thoughts that I’m unsure I’ll ever escape, now. My head spins when I sit down again holding it, feeling my body shake as shouts fill my mind. 

Why am I not happy? I have wanted to be a mum my entire life, and now that I am, I . . I wish that I wasn’t. 

Why can’t I be like Harry? He doesn’t even have to try, and he’s happy about it. The tears only come faster when I realize that I don’t think I’ve ever seen him as happy as this, rivaling the night I told him I’d marry him. 

“Alright, bug?” 

Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear. Clearing my throat, I hurriedly wipe at my face whilst looking towards the window, wishing I could be anywhere else but here. That I could be anybody else but me. 

“Y-Yeah,” my reply is mumbled. The tightness in my gut that appeared when I saw that look of happiness on his face fights on when his hand touches my shoulder. 

“We should get some lunch in that belly o’ yers, Mummy. What’s sounding good t’ you?” 

My insistence that I couldn’t feel worse is eradicated by his words washing over me. The specific ones that he chose to say, because it can get worse. 

“I’m not very hungry.” 

“Oh, stomach still queasy afta this mornin’, bub?” he questions. Without looking, I can tell that he’s taken a seat beside me, worry claiming his face. “Maybe somethin’ easy, then. Yogurt, a banana, rice, or some chicken noodle soup. Ya still gotta eat, love, ‘specially now with tha baby. They need t’ eat, too.” 

Nodding my head up and down only makes it hurt worse. All I want to do is cry, and not in front of him. I want to be in our bed, without him there. What is happening to me? Since when do I wish he wasn’t around? 

I don’t want to have to be thinking about how I haven’t had anything to eat today, and how that’s not good for our growing baby. The baby that relies on me to take care of it, and that in nine short months will need Harry and I every second to do that too. I hadn’t even completed my mentorship with him, or been at the firm for two years. We hadn’t even been together for two years. For God’s sake, we aren’t even married, yet. 

“Becks?” for a lawyer, he does a poor job of hiding the urgency in his voice. The worry and doubt. The very feeling that I can’t walk away from, even though I don’t have it in me to try. “Any o’ that sound good t’ you . . and tha baby, love?”

There it is, again. The baby. I hate myself more and more when I get angry at him for saying it like that, reminding me of this newfound responsibility that I have. One that I didn’t ask for. I know that he doesn’t mean to add to the guilt o’meter, but he does. With every second that happiness escapes me, I do it without knowing, too. 

“You can get Chinese, if you want. I’ll just have some broth and rice. I’ll try it, anyways.” 

“‘Kay, good. Thanks, bug,” his words are punctuated with a kiss to the top of my head. I know that it’s coming, and that it’s the most overdue I’ve ever been for a question from him. His hand leaving stripes up and down my back doesn’t do much to help the impending doom. “Sure yer alright, Becks?” 

I can’t do it. After all of the times that I did, I can’t this time. No, not about this. Wouldn’t it be easier to, though? To lie? Because, how in the fuck do I tell my fiancée, the love of my life, and my best friend in the entire world that I’m scared out of my mind that we’re having a baby? What words do I even choose to relay to the man who I’d always wanted to be the father of my children, that now we’re having a baby together, I can’t figure out how to be happy about it? I have to tell him, don’t I?

Harry is good at loads of things. Rather, there’s very few things that he’s not good at, and reading me isn’t one of them. Taking the last step that’s not there has been something I knew from the start he excelled at. When I need it the most, he does it. I feel the comforting weight of his body around mine, and sobs are flying from my lips again. 

“I’m scared, Harry. I don’t know what to do, or how we’re going to do this. I don’t know how to be a mum, let alone a good one,” I couldn’t remember a time that my heart hadn’t been pounding beneath my ribs. Without asking, I wondered if the baby could hear it. It was so sudden, the way it had weaved its way into my thoughts, because all of a sudden, it was there too. The baby. Our baby. It had been there, growing inside of me for how many days now and we didn’t know. 

“We’ll be okay, Becks. I promise you. I promise you. Ev’rythin’s gonna be alright, my love. ‘m gonna take care o’ you . . tha both o’ you. You, and our son or daughter. ‘ve known fer so long, well befo’ we got t’gether that you’d make a wonderful mum. Ya take care o’ me so well, and yer so good with Harper and Ollie. ‘m rather nervous too, they’ll be so tiny and helpless. I dunno tha first thing ‘bout breastfeedin,’ which dummy t’ choose, or what a baby wants when they’re cryin’ but, Becks, I know we’ll figure it out t’gether. We’re such a great team, love, and ‘m positive that we can take this on too,” my nodding into his chest is instantaneous, and so are the tendrils of relief when his fingers begin to comb through my hair. “'ve dreamt so long o’ havin’ babies with you, Becks. We’re gonna make tha cutest ones, I jus’ know it . . We’ll learn all o’ this t’gether, babe. We’ll be alright.” 

“I love you, Harry,” still, the tears haven’t signalled a retreat. Neither has the sadness that weighs on my shoulders. 

“I love you too, Rebecca Styles, mo’ than anythin’ in this entire world. Dunno how ‘ll come t’ love another quite like you, but already know I love our li’l baby loads. They’re gonna have tha best mum ever.” 

I wish he could know that he mistakes my coming sobs for happiness when I don’t even know what the hell they are. I can’t figure out why they came when he talked about already loving our baby, and that I’ll be the best mum. Until I do, because I try to say something that affirms that I feel the same things too. 

I can’t, because I don’t. I hope that eventually, I may.  

/

It was difficult for me to remember the last time it had been like this, when all I had wanted was to feel okay again. Each time I questioned why I couldn’t, I only felt all the worse. It didn’t come when I had taken the second pregnancy test in the bathroom once Harry had gone back to his meeting. The same word showed up on this one too, although I’m not sure why I had thought it would be any different. I wasn’t sure if I could be swimming in any more guilt, realizing that I had begged and pleaded for it to say something else so all of this could go away. 

I had dreamt of this day ever since I was a little girl. This wasn’t how it went. My tears were for another reason entirely, and for a while after Harry left again, I couldn’t get them to stop. I could hardly breathe. Just when I thought I’d caught my breath, the devil inside of me reminded me that I should be happy and that I’m not. The rug was pulled out from under me again and again, and so was my breath. 

I’d seen him only twice this morning since we had gotten to work, seeing how he was in meetings all day long. No, now he was checking on me every hour, making excuses for bathroom breaks that were spent visiting me. By now, the tears had dried out and that was the least of my worries. As if this all wasn’t too much already, I’d never felt more numb. 

It had been twenty minutes of ignorant bliss that he interrupted when he walked into my office again. The moment our eyes connect, it all comes rushing back to me. I remember it. The baby.

“Hey, love. How’s it goin’ in here?” Harry asks, looking a little too nonchalant as he strides into my office, hands in his trousers. 

“You don’t have to check up on me. I’m fine, Harry,” my words take on a blunt edge that I intended, I can’t lie. 

“But I want t.’ I dunno how t’ do all o’ this, ‘ve never been a Dad befo.’ I jus’ can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you, tha two o’ you,” he coos, arriving behind me and draping his arms around my neck. They lay there loosely, cupping my shoulders on either side. I thank God that he can’t see my face, especially when his hand wanders to my stomach that he rubs. “How ya feelin’? Did what ya had at lunch help settle yer stomach at all?”

Gritting my teeth, I ready my answer, forgetting the flow that I had found in writing up this statement for my case. “No,” I answer, swallowing afterwards, still able to taste it in my mouth despite the sticks of gum I’d chewed. 

“Oh, ‘m sorry. Did-.” 

“Yeah, I threw up again. But I’m fine, I had a cup of ginger tea and that seemed to help. I’ve been able to keep that down, plus a banana and a few slices of toast. I guess I was really hungry,” I respond, unsure of whether to take one of his hands, or not. This is all so unprecedented, and I really have no idea what I’m doing. I have a feeling of what I should be doing, like telling him that I’d already thrown up three times today, but I don’t know how to. 

“God, ‘m sorry, love. ‘s it normal t’ be gettin’ sick so much like that? It can’t be good fer you or tha baby, but ‘m glad you were able t’ eat some mo.’ I hope that stuff stays down now, ‘s no wonder you were starvin’ since there was nothin’ left in there,” my eyes fall shut when his nose nudges at my temple in between kisses. “Ya sure I can’t get you anythin’? Y’know, there’s a whole case of ginger ales in me office, if ya want. I can’t believe I forgot they were there, I know they help settle yer stomach too.” 

“Thanks. I might grab one a little later, or something. You should get back to your meeting, Harry, it’s important.” 

“I know, jus’ wanted t’ make sure you were okay, buggie. Y’know, if ya need t’ at any time, you can go home if yer really not feelin’ well. ‘ll jus’ get a ride from Myles or somethin.’ ‘d come with, o’course, but I can’t miss these meetings,” blinking hard, his words find a crack inside of me, but there’s too many to choose from. He really is the best, only reminding me that I somehow found the perfect man to be the father to my children. I wish happiness bloomed inside of me at that realization, but sadness only comes again to overwhelm any happiness that brought me. Breathing in, my throat feels scratchy. Silently, I tell him to leave before it starts again. “If ya need anythin’ jus’ text me and ‘ll see it on me watch, ‘ll be checkin.’ I hope you have a good rest o’ yer day and that you continue t’ feel better. Love you.” 

My pause continues for seconds and seconds more. Longer than I had meant before I can speak without giving it away, “I love you too.” I force a small smile at him when he walks away, wondering why I can’t have all of that sunshine inside of me like he always does. The door closes softly behind him, and my returning sobs are even quieter. Darkness is all I see when I bury my face into my knees, hugging them against my chest. Seconds later, I think of the baby, and loosen my grip. 

This is what it’s going to be like for the next nine months, isn’t it? The rest of my life? I’m going to catch myself thinking about them first. 

Once it starts, I can’t stop. Have I had a drink in the last few weeks? No, thank God, no. Have I been eating healthy? Kind of. Have I been sleeping well? Hardly. Wait, does sex hurt the baby? Because Harry and I had been doing a lot of that. Well, no duh, Becky, that’s what got you here in the first place. Had I been lying on my stomach too much, and would that hurt it? Had I been around secondhand smoke? Shit, did I miss my vitamin this morning? 

With each new tear and question, my cheeks become slick with them. The air disappears from my lungs and I fight for it, shocked again to remember that it’s not just me anymore. I’m not just living for me anymore, or Harry, but our baby, too. 

“Hey, Becks, one mo’ thing. Di- Bug, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” 

Shit. I had just wanted to be alone with my thoughts. And our baby. But, did I really want that?

“No, how could I be? I can’t stop thinking about it. If I’ve been eating good, if I had a drink lately, if sex hurts it- Harry,” sobbing his name had never hurt as much as so many other times. Missing him afar hurt but not as much as that night we broke up. God, why am I thinking about that stuff when I’m supposed to be happy? The reminder doesn’t will the tears anyway, it only makes me feel worse. 

“Oh, Becks. C’mere,” his voice is molasses all over again, but it hasn’t strayed very far from it since he told me that we were going to be Mum and Dad. That we were going to have a baby. I still can’t even say it, and I don’t think that I have. Even then, I don’t think it’d be real. No, saying it would make it too real. I know it. “Shh, ‘s okay.” 

“It’s not, Harry, I’m so scared. What about the wedding and my mentorship here with you, and-,” my words are choppy and drowning under tears, but he hears them. He hears me, like he always has. His soft touch pulling me to my feet and over to my sofa doesn’t stop the incessant thoughts being thrown around in my head. 

I’ll have to stop working, won’t I? What about Harry? He can’t, he owns the firm with Myles, and together with Rose, they’re in charge of all of the nitty gritty. Hiring. Helping with payroll. All of the menial stuff assigned to keeping the lights and water running. Licenses. Meetings upon meetings. Then, there’s still being a lawyer. It won’t just stop if we have a baby, but how would that work, I-

“I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, Becks, but it will be. Promise. ‘s okay that yer scared, ‘s a lot t’ wrap yer head ‘round. I keep catchin’ myself thinking, ‘Hey, ‘m gonna be a dad with a bloody kid. ‘ll be changin’ nappies, makin’ bottles, and my whole life will revolve ‘round this tiny person all o’ a sudden.’ ‘ve only jus’ started t’ talk t’ me own dad again, so I dunno how t’ be one meself, but I know ‘ll figure it out. We have nine months t’ prepare, Becks, and we’ll learn as we go. T’gether. Please, don’t worry ‘bout tha weddin’, we can move it ‘round or do a civil ceremony at first, if we want. We’ll figure it out, and it’ll still be perfect. Nothin’ less fer me girl.” 

Harry’s words do everything but comfort me. Instead, they do the very opposite, and I’m struggling for breaths. Sitting on his lap, pressed against his front, I couldn’t be closer to him. My thoughts only make me feel further away from him, because of what he said. I don’t even have a mum. No, not really, so how in the fuck can I be one? Mine was horrible to me, and set the worst example of what a good mum is. So, how will I know what to do? How can I be a good mother to our baby one day soon, then?

“Yer already a good mum t’ our baby, Rebecca, I can’t say that enough. You eat good and make sure I do, drink far mo’ water than I ever do, yer always careful, never f’get t’ take yer vitamins unlike me, and sex doesn’t hurt ‘em, bug. You take such good care o’ me, you have from tha beginnin’, and I know you will with our baby too. We’ll figure somethin’ out, if you wanna stay home with ‘em once they come, or if my Mum moved up and took care o’ em. ‘ll be home too loads, I bet I could even work from home most o’ tha time. Hey, will you look at me, please?” Obliging, my head heavy with multitudes of questions lifts. Blinking, more tears join the others as his face sharpens before me. “I wouldn’t have wanted kids with you if I knew you wouldn’t be a good mum. Buggie, I want loads o’ em with you, so if that tells you anythin’ ‘bout how wondaful o’ a mum I know you’ll be t’ our kids . . We’re gonna have a baby, and we’ll be alright. ‘Kay?”

“We’re . . ,” the same sentence begins on my lips, but it falters. His own urges me to breathe, and I focus on that while his fingers card through my hair. The green in his eyes is molten heaven when I look back. I hope that they have his eyes. “We’re gonna . . have a baby, Harry.” 

“Ya, we are, Becks. Tha cutest baby in all tha world, and sweetest too,” he grins, his sunshine warming my face. 

“And we’ll be alright.” 

“Yes, we will, my love. ‘ll make sure o’ it,” he concludes, smushing his lips against my forehead where he sponges a kiss. A zing spreads from his lips, and with those words, I start to breathe again. 

Maybe, we will be okay. 

/

“And then what happened, Mum?” her almond shaped blue eyes stare up at me, hanging onto my every word. 

Swallowing, the words I know I’ll have to say wad into a ball in my throat. She knew, she’d heard bits of this story at times, but I wonder how much she remembered. 

“Spoiler alert, things weren’t okay.” 

“How come?” the way a wrinkle forms between her dark eyebrows reminds me of somebody all too well. 

“Are you sure you want to hear this, love? It gets kind of sad,” I warn her, combing her dark chocolate curls off of her face. They’re just like his. Only when she nods with confidence in her actions do I continue, despite wishing he was here to help me tell this part.  

/

It wasn’t okay. No, it was the very opposite. I had wished things would get better, that this nightmare would turn out to be a dream come true, but it wasn’t. Not yet, anyways. 

I wish that I knew how to talk to him. There had never been a time when I was afraid to speak to Harry, or when I didn’t know how to. No, not for a very long time, at least. It was impossible to count the number of times I had put my head in my hands from the litany of thoughts raging inside of it, or just from the aches it held for other related reasons. I didn’t know what to do, and I wish that I did. Tense couldn’t even cover it, how it felt between us the last few days since the news hit. I seriously considered driving separately  to work today to avoid it, until realizing it probably would only stir the pot, inciting another row between Harry and me. With how much my head already throbbed from likely dehydration and my pounds of destructive thoughts, I opted out of that one. 

Staring at my cell phone sitting beside my laptop, my chin falls into my hand with a huff. The dark screen stares back at me as I will it to ring, to ding, or just to do anything because of him. 

No, not anything, Becky. If you wished that, you’d end up getting another one of his annoying texts asking if you’d tried eating again. How much water were you drinking? If you wanted anything from the break room, if he were there. No, you just wanted a hug from him. Becky, you wanted a text from him that was about anything other than the baby. Him sending you a song he thought you’d like, a funny meme, a recipe the both of you should try, or just a sweet text. 

I thought my hard work had paid off when I hear the chiming of a ringtone, even if it was my office’s. Still holding out hope, I pick it up, chirping my usual greeting, “This is Becky.” 

“Hi, love! It’s about time I got ahold of you,” at the sound of the voice, my heart plummets into my stomach. My hand in my hair turns into a claw, my scalp soon singing with mild pain. 

My lips wobble, unknowing of what words to say, and what tone to take, “H-Hi, Mum.”

“That’s all you have to say?” 

“I’m sorry, I-,” my beginning is rough, rooted in my tendency to people-please, just like I had always done with her. The phone begins to slip from my fingers clammy with a nervous sweat. Already. “Why are you calling me at work?” I almost say that same name again, the one word I’d always called her. It never felt real, like she was my mum, so why should I call her that? It never stopped being true though, that was just her name. No matter how much I hated her and that name, I could never stop it from being true. 

“Because you weren’t answering your phone, silly! How have you been, Ree?” there’s a lift to her voice, the same one that drills an emptiness into my bones. It’s the one that she used to hide it all, in front of teachers, my friends’ parents, and anybody that she needed to use it with. It was the calm before the storm, the show she was trying to put on. The last thing I needed right now was another storm to come colliding with the one already raging a war inside of me. Through my life. 

Closing my eyes, my thumb presses against my temple. No, you don’t get to call me that, M- Kate. I had been conflicted about wanting him all day long, but now, I needed him. How good he was at saving me. 

“I can’t talk right now, I’m working. Can-.” 

“You stand Robbie and me up the other day, and I have to hear from somebody else that you got engaged! I think that the least you can do, Rebecca, is to talk to your mother for a few goddamn minutes,” her retort finds the gap in the door I hadn’t been able to close ever since I saw that word on that test. That was when my world had gotten turned upside down, something I hadn’t been able to fix just yet. I realized that was even further away now when her words send my teeth down into my bottom lip, the taste of iron overpowering on my lips. 

It had taken him so long to bring that name back, to drag it out of the closet and to dust it off, polishing it back up. Within seconds, she had broken it again, and I wished he could be there to fix it up. Because no, he was in court right now, I realized, and for the first time today, I told myself the truth about needing him. But he was angry with me, the one person I couldn’t stand being mad at me.

“You don’t get to call me that, or talk to me like that, I-,” my bravery is short-lived, but the blame isn’t dealt to me, it sits in her hands instead. 

“No, Rebecca Ann Holte, you don’t get to talk to me, your mother, like that. You should be ashamed of yourself, I have wanted nothing more than to reconnect with my only daughter, and she can’t even return a message of mine,” her sigh is louder than mine, because that had always been the theme, hadn’t it? She always had been worse off than me, so I had no room to talk, she’d say. When she lost her job or my dad left her. It was always about her. “I hope to God you don’t become a mother one day, you are one of the rudest and ugliest people I know, so I can’t imagine how your kids would turn out. I mean it, you have one of the ugliest hearts, Rebecca. I can’t believe you’re my daughter. I have tried how many times with you to fix things, and you never give me the chance.” 

That smell came, the one that fills you when the wetness floods your eyes. I smell them, painting my palm, most likely ruining my lazy attempt at makeup today. I thought I had felt empty before, but it shrinks in comparison to the hollowness that swims throughout me. 

Climbing my throat, the arguments and refusals neared, despite not knowing if I believed them. I wish I did as I spoke them, “No, I will be a good mum one day, even if I never had one myself, because I would never treat my children the way you have always treated me, Kate. I don’t care anymore what you think of me, or my heart, because you speak from an ugly one yourself. I have never wanted to fix things with you, because you never change, can’t you see that?” they’re picking apart my voice now, weighing on close to every word, but I know I have a few more until they consume me all entirely. “You are not my mother, and I don’t want to ever see you again or speak to you for as long as I live. I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to tell you that and you don’t get it. This is the last time you ever will, because if you contact me again, or God forbid, my fiance, I promise that you will regret it because I’m a fucking lawyer and my soon to be husband is one as well, not to mention one of the most powerful ones in Britain. And my name is Rebecca Styles.” 

It echoes, the clank of the phone hitting the holder after I slammed it down, ending the call. I don’t hear it for long, because the floodgates have opened, again. My lungs burn from lack of air, something I can’t seem to find as my entire body seizes with a sob, one word repeating over and over in my head. Lies. Lies. Lies. Ones that I tell myself, because I can’t help but believe her. Am I really sure that I could ever be a good mum? Then another starts, a new word incessantly filling my head. 

“Harry.” 

/

It was the furthest from okay, continuing with how I couldn’t stop throwing up, quite literally, and the way it made Harry sick himself with worry. Consequently, this could only lead to one thing, and that was me losing my patience, or lack thereof with him despite his good intentions. 

“I think ya need t’ go and see yer doctor ‘bout this.” 

“I don’t, Harry, morning sickness is normal,” I insist, plucking a K-Cup from the drawer. Suddenly, I remember and shove it back into the box, for the third time today. The jury was still out on whether or not to drink coffee while pregnant. More importantly, whether Daddy Harry who was doing all of the research and therefore breathing over my shoulder was okay with it. Not that I could keep it down, anyways, which was the ultimate winner. It still hadn’t gotten any easier, trying to figure out this new life of mine, and it was only Day 4 of it. I had wondered, time and time again just how long they had already been with us and we just didn’t know it. 

“Ya, but this isn’t, Becks, and I think y’know it.” 

“It’s fine, Harry. I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” shoving a mug onto the little stand, I avoid his gaze whilst watching the hot water spurt out of the machine. 

“Ya never wanna talk ‘bout it when I bring it up lately. Not when we were at tha shops yest’day and I suggested lookin’ at baby clothes. Not when I asked ya when we should tell our families.” I don’t know how to respond, and so I play my favorite card, just like I’ve been doing lately. It’s called the Silence card, and Harry really hated that one, even more than the Only Nodding one. “You’ve hardly been able t’ keep any food down, love. Yer livin’ on crackers and ginger tea, that can’t be good fer you and tha baby.” 

I didn’t mean to, but I still blinked hard when he said it, as if I needed a reminder it was there. A baby growing inside of me, the reason for all of this. Our baby.

“I’m fine, Harry.” 

“I thought we were done lyin’ t’ each other, Becks. We’re gettin’ married soon, and now, we’re . . we’re startin’ a family,” he wasn’t a lawyer for no reason, and sometimes, I hated it. He used it to his advantage, his way with words and snappy comebacks. He knew where to hit and his aim was always spot on, but I didn’t like how he used it with me, too. 

He was right, I wasn’t fine. I couldn’t be in the kitchen while he cooked without running to the loo to relieve myself. If I’m honest, I was getting sick of my diet of ginger ale and soda crackers. It was a party when some chicken broth or a bite of a banana would stay down, even though they never sounded good to me. Nothing did, not even the churros from Pedro’s, or our favorite muffin. Believe me, Harry had tried. It had grown old quickly how he had come to watch me eat, arguing with me to take just one more bite or another spoonful, even though we both knew that I would throw it up later. 

It wasn’t just that. I was so exhausted, which I figured was mostly due to the lack of food thing. The only thing I was good at lately was sleeping. I could hardly stay awake past 7:30 pm anymore, and negotiated every extra minute of sleep in the morning that I could from Harry. Well, that was until I woke up at the ass crack of dawn to hang out with the toilet, again. Plus, my boobs hurt something fierce and Harry found out when he went to play with them the other day. Let’s just say, he’s not going to try that again after I almost bit his head off. Whoops. 

“I am fine, and I don’t need to go and see a doctor, Harry. Let’s just give it a few more days, okay?” I sigh at last, removing the steaming mug from underneath the spout. Gulping, I dip the tea bag into the water, watching how spots of the water grow dark in places from it. 

“Fine,” he retorts, leaving his spot beside me, slamming the door to the break room behind him. 

Despite watching him do it, I jump in place. Forgetting the tea, it was too hot anyways, I follow him after a few moments. Doing my best to avoid prying eyes, I take a different way to his office, hoping I can try to calm down during the extra time. Arriving at his door, I found it was a blunder all entirely, because I can’t hold back the next words once I step into his office. 

“Why are you being like this?”

“Why am I?” Harry spits back from behind his desk, lifting his head to look at me. He was wearing one of my favorite outfits of his today, the brown cheetah print shirt and tight black slacks, but it didn’t do anything to help our predicament. “Why are you, Becks? Huh? This ‘s s’posed t’ be tha happiest time o’ our lives, and yer bein’ like this.” 

There it is again, his way with words, the stabbing ones. My sights on him falters, eyes falling to the floor before I look back to him. “How am I being then?”

“Yer bein’ selfish,” he almost shouts, but he doesn’t need to. He’s never had to, because he can achieve all of the disdain and hurt without the added volume. “We’re having a baby, Becks, we’ve always spoken ‘bout wantin’ kids. Now, we are, and yer actin’ like . . like you don’t want our baby.” 

“I never said that,” my voice is quiet, and unconvincing. The both of us know it, despite my half-lie. The one I had been so afraid for him to find out, and suddenly, I feel sick all over again. 

“You didn’t need t’, I know it,” it works for him, the soft voice. You’d think that tone would be reserved for gentleness, but no, it’s not. I hate that about him, how he can turn like a whip, but can’t we all? “And God, Becks, ya won’t shut up ‘bout tha wedding. Why can’t we jus’ have a bloody civil ceremony first? Tha whole thing ‘s t’ get married - exchange vows and become husband and wife. We don’t need all tha fancy dresses, food, and a party at first. It can wait, Becks, until after tha baby ‘s here. Or we can whip up somethin’ t’ have this Winter . . but yer already shakin’ yer head ‘cos you hate that idea. Fuck, can I do anythin’ right fer you lately?” 

“Harry,” I begin in a tone leaking with an apology that I don’t know how to say. “I’m going through a lot right now.” 

“I know, love, we both are. Our lives have changed already in tha last few days ‘cos o’ this, but ‘s jus’ a wedding, Becks. I wanna marry you, but right now I don’t care ‘bout a cake, tuxes, and what fuckin’ song we walk down tha aisle t.’ All I care ‘bout right now is tha fact we’re havin’ a baby and ‘m so excited . . . but I wish you were too. They’re gonna be here in nine months whether we like it or not, and I think you need t’ learn how to like it. I jus’-,” he cuts himself off with a hand pressed to his mouth, cutting eye contact. 

“What? You were going to say something else,” I continue, but he won’t, refusing to with a shake of his head. “Say it, Harry.” 

“I jus’ can’t believe you, yer like a completely different person since we found out ‘bout tha baby.” 

“I’m a different person, huh? I take it you mean that in a bad way, am I right?” I don’t know where it comes from, but bravery finds me, and the words come spilling out. “I just found out that I’m pregnant, Harry, that I’m growing a human being inside of me. I have to share my body, and make sure that I’m making the right choices every second. I have to protect it, feed it, get enough sleep, take the right vitamins, eat the right foods, and try not to be too stressed out. But, hey, I already messed up on that one. I didn’t ask for this and I’m scared, so yeah, maybe I’m a different person. You know what? So are you, and I don’t like it. I’m trying my best, and I hate how it’s never enough for you, this new you . . Forget about going out to dinner tonight, I don’t want to be around you right now, you’re- ugh, you’re so overwhelming, Harry.”

It was a question I couldn’t answer - whether I had been honest with myself lately, or lied to myself more than ever before. It was clear as day and I couldn’t lie about this one, the look on his face when I blinked and saw it all register with him. 

“Fine. Forgive me fer fuckin’ carin’ ‘bout you and our unborn baby, Becks. ‘m rather sick o’ bein’ ‘round you too when yer like this, so go and have a good night. Lemme know when yer done bein’ selfish, and when yer ready t’ be a family t’gether. I have t’ go t’ court now,” if there were words of Harry’s that I’d always remember, somehow these had become some of them. They rang in my ears long after he had stormed out of his office, and I had escaped to mine with tears already staining my cheeks. 

What in the fuck have I done now?

[justfangstvdto]

Open Coffin 2 | Chapter 04  “Word travels fast among the Damned”

Disclaimer: This is a sequel! Find Part 1 here. For some context, I´d advise you to watch The Originals to understand some occurrences.

Chapter warnings: typical TO violence and fighting, a dash of ptsd, glimpse into messed up childhood, oh and some new spells and practices, also this took so extremely long so please feel free to wait until more chapter are here

Word count: 6664

Tags & Author Note at the bottom. Feedback is my lifeblood and keeps the writing coming (eventually...lol)

Your name: submit What is this?

At certain times in life, there is this premonition, a sense of knowing that something is coming. It is felt in the air in every passing breeze, and there is nothing one can do to stop it. It blows from the environment to throw its opponent off balance. Could be a monster with sharp claws, a bullet, a virus or bacteria. Or, in your case, a wooden and deadly staff handled with ancient vampire strength. 

The attack came from the left side, poignant and with precision.  The wood colliding with the carved stick in your hands send vibrations through your arms, that travelled to your shoulders. Strike blocked. Another attack came swiftly, this time from below in an upwards angle calculated just right to throw you off balance. Blocked again. You could see it in Mikael´s face; he was growing frustrated by every passing round of attack. He threw his weight behind his next attack, that edged closer to your face. Pain erupted from the point of impact as it sliced through the skin just above your cheekbone. Mikael doubled up again and brought the staff to your knees, swiftly knocking you off balance.  You fell backwards like a sack of wood but caught yourself midair before landing on your stomach. 

He's good. 

He forced you down with the edge of the staff, burying your face in the dirt. He could kill you with a push of his weight, but he relented. You heard his feet cracking the ground beneath him as he turned his back and walked away as the champion. 

Or so he thought. 

You pushed yourself up with your dirt-covered hands, using your vampire speed and the element of surprise to your advantage. Holding the staff in a horizontal line, you went after him. He let out a huffed gurgle when you pulled back on the wood you pressured against his neck, pulling him against your torso. Mikael reacted swiftly and brought his weight forward to overthrow your chokehold like a bull trying to buckle of its rider. You let yourself fall over his back with your hand around the staff, nearing the ground with your backside, only to switch to your front as you easily grasped the staff out if his hands. Swiftly and without hesitation you plunged the staff into his face before you brought it down to his feet to trip him over. He landed into the dirt as you did before, face red with anger. 

“I told Klaus already," You said, pointing the end towards his heart, while the Mikaelson family runic crest buried itself into the flesh of your hands "never turn your back on a Salvatore. Especially not me. ”

He was hurt in his pride, that much was evident, but there was a glimmer of surprise in his eyes that made you proud. You've beaten the vampire that hunts vampires. Granted, he had lost his touch over the years on the other side, but he still had centuries on you. It was a cause for celebration, or at least it was something to hold over him if you needed to. 

Mikael scrambled to his feet, dusting off his dirt-covered clothes tainting the afternoon sun with dust particles "You fight well.“ 

"That's what happens when you grow up with two brothers that constantly had to one-up each other. You learn to fight if you're the one in the middle.” You said, sparing a thought to how you´d find Stefan and Damon in front of your house, fighting each other with their bare hands or loose wood from the barn a few ways down from the front door. You would always see them through the smudged window in the housekeeping room where your mother used to teach you what a girl should learn to become a proper woman. But you never cared for it. Instead, you would run outside your dress dragging in the dirt as you pushed your brothers apart even onto the dirt if you had to. 

You pushed that memory aside, and you bend over to grab the staff on the floor, your fingers gliding over the ornate wood once more “The crest.” You continued “What does it mean?” 

Mikael seemed surprised by your interest, even if it was covered with a loud sigh of contentment. Yet, he complied and drew the crest in the dirt beneath him “Long ago this was the Norse alphabet rune “Gebu”. It´s meaning varied from spear to gift but has been used to refer to Odin's spear Gungnir. It was believed that it had been given to Odin by Loki and is known for always hitting its mark, no matter the obstacle.”

“Always hitting bullseye no matter what? Yeah, that describes your family pretty well.” You shared a quick look with him before you turned away, heading for the cabin. You always wondered if Mikael missed his northern home - his true north so to speak- or if rage consumed him entirely without leaving a trace of the Wikingr he once was. And if the same thing will happen to you if the seething anger you developed over the last 3 years, triumphs over your sanity. Only time and its unrelenting grasp knew. 

Glancing into the window beside the door you stopped to check your phone that was still outside since last night. You turned it over and unlocked it with a click, groaning when you saw the notification. Twenty-eight missed calls. Most of them were Klaus, a few from Marcel and then…

No way. 

Stefan's name glared at you through the screen and with it a little icon next to him. He left a voicemail. What gravely thing had to occur for him to call you after years of silence? Did Mystic Fall finally burn down to ashes? Perhaps someone scarier than Klaus rolled into town and he just needed help? Whatever it was, the feeling of impending doom lingered in the air when you locked your phone and left it on the table outside. There was no time to linger in what-if scenarios. 

No unnecessary attachments. No distractions - That's how you get things done.

Opening the cabin door a swift of charcoaled sage penetrated your senses, pungent with every step you took. Kaleb stood near a table, an unbuttoned shirt hugging his frame as if he was about to embark on a tropical cruise. He had the table decked out in front of him with elongated squares of stone which looked like they were engraved with runic symbols. 

You closed the door behind you, the remnant of your late-night drinking session from the night before, collided together with the door´s vibration against the brittle wood. Last night you sparsely told Kaleb why you brought Mikael back, but your conversation quickly dissolved to more than just small talk. The alcohol loosened your tongue to a comfortable degree. It was strange to be unburdened by the fear of judgment. There wasn't any lasting damage that you had to fear, nothing you had to be ashamed of when looking him in the eyes and nothing you had to live with forever. Maybe the prospect of dying and not be burdened by anything that lasted had its advantages after all. It was easier at least. 

When you stepped further into the room, Kaleb looked up from the bowl he had in his hand. Passing him, you discarded the sheer jacket that was stained with the particles of your meeting with the dirt floor outside. You flipped open the cooler filled with the blood bags, taking inventory of how many remained. Two. Great. Hunger was plaguing you more than it ever had. The cooler was full yesterday. 

You jumped when Kaleb’s fingers gently wrapped when he turned your shoulder towards him to inspect the damage that had already healed, the only reminder of it a sheer layer of red. You pushed his hand away, regretting your action within a second after witnessing the guilty look on his face.

He shuffled back to where he was standing previously and cleared his throat before he spoke: “I don't think sparring with him is a good idea.” 

“What, do you think he'd kill me? I´m a dead vamp walking no matter what, so who cares?” 

“Don't you mean an undead dead vampire?” He joked before his face contorted into a questioning gaze “Wait…” He laughed. When you returned his laughter with a chuckle, he seemed proud, face beaming with a sense of accomplishment. 

So he likes to make people laugh. Noted.

Kalebs gaze lingered for another moment, then he glanced out of the window to watch Mikael train with nothing but the wind as his opponent." You´ve told me how you brought him back, but not why." He continued, a worried tone now coating his voice "I assume it is more than just as a sparring partner?" 

You shook your head “You should know as little as possible. They will come after you if they find out you know something. ”

“You're still not the trusting sort.” He noted, “And I thought we've bonded.”

The truth was you had bonded to a certain degree, and you were wary of the developing attachment.

“Well, do you trust me?” You questioned.

“Are you slicked? Those sad eyes might fool some people, but not me. I know what you're after.” Stoic and calculated he stared you down before his mouth contorted into a lighthearted smile “You've got a lecherous heart, Y/N! I won't be used, not for my body, nor my magic!” 

You turned your head to hide a smile, but he caught on and lid up with pride. "Speaking of magic.” You nodded towards the table next to him “How's all this supposed to work anyway?"

“This-” He stepped closer, pointing with his fingers to the runes surrounded by a salt and ash circle “Is an ancient runic foretelling. Like a, uh, prophecy.”

“So like a fancy version of tarot cards?” You said bluntly, “How is that gonna help?”

“Depending on what runes appear, we will have a vague indication of what's causing the bleeding; Spell, curse, your vampire body rejecting magic… whatever it may be. If we know what it is, we can reverse it. “

You looked at him and wondered how someone like him came across a spell this old and what atrocities he had to commit to get a hold of it. Magic like this was not given out to anybody without affiliating to one of the more eclectic covens. You should know, that's what you´ve been doing for the past years. 

You were about to litter him with questions, but the opening of the screeching cabin door made you pause, and all questions washed away. 

“What have we here?" Mikael said from the doorway before stepping closer to examine Kaleb’s spell. " I have not seen this kind of magic in centuries.“ He looked at him with questioning eyes, observing his reaction as an indication as to end him or not. “How did you come to this knowledge?”

“Well, I've read a lot. You pick up a few things over the years.” He shrugged, and it was clear he had no intention of answering any questions “For example, this is based on a Viking age foretelling where they cut off a branch and sliced it into strips and marked them with different signs and threw them at random onto a cloth. Whatever stripes they picked up was the works of the gods. This is just a more definitive version.”

“Sounds easy enough. What do you need me to do?”

“I just need your blood” Kaleb replied. 

Ah, blood. The ingredient that was most dangerous in combination with magic. It was used for curses, binding spells and all sorts of nasty spells. Could you say you trusted someone you barely know with an ingredient like this? No. But Shank´s research from two days ago was fruitless besides revealing Kaleb's last name, so you had nothing to go on but your gut feeling. 

You bit into the thick flesh of your hand, and your blood pooled in your palm, ready to be used “Where do you want it?”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The minutes dragged on with slow intent, waiting for them to die and move on to the next. The spell brewed, Mikael had left to an adjoining back room to rest and prepare for an uncomfortable fight he claimed to feel in the air. One would write off this premonition as ramblings of a crazy old man, but you can feel it too. Eyes somewhere distant, watching your every move. Claws ready to rupture skin. The question was, whose claws would draw blood first. The list of people that want to execute lethal force upon you had gotten embarrassingly long over the years, and guessing who was on top of that list equals a horse race with bets running high at all times. 

You used the waiting time and tried to decode the unlinking spell you had been working on for the last year. But the advanced incantations and spellwork scribbled on the dusty pages were more than you were capable of understanding. Still, you had to try. Not to kill Klaus, but to ensure your brothers and everyone in his sire line was safe if his enemies decide to multiply further. Knowing Klaus, he will trample on everyone's sandcastle like a toddler to prove his point and make enemies out of everyone if he had to. 

You glanced over to where Kaleb was chanting with his eyes closed, entirely concentrated on the whispered spell that´s supposed to reveal what the hell was wrong with you. You´ve been trying to find that out for centuries, so you did not hold out hope for a spell like this to work. 

Out of nowhere, your senses alerted you of a rustle in the bushes, very soft steps were coming from behind. So faint, it was almost mistakable as the wind. Your ears twitched. Two-legged. Not an animal then.

Kaleb picked up on the sudden change of stature and paused the chanting and shared a look of alertness. "You think it's him? The original?”

“Probably. Or about a thousand other people that want me dead, take your pick. You know of all the places to die this didn't make my list. Where is the blaze of glory and a badass backing track?”

Stepping outside into the cooling night air you kept your eyes on the treeline beyond where the sound came from, but it was clear without sparing too many seconds that there was only one person who would chase you here despite all spoken cautions. And that one wouldn't hide in the bushes. He would instead break a window in or kick the door down rather than hide like some common thief. So why was he silent? Something wasn't right. 

"Hey, I'll get some wood for the stove." You stated at high volume, masking your approach to whoever was out there. Wrapping your hands around the axe that penetrated a tree stump, you stepped into the open.

The rustling sound of bushes was persistent, dominating over the deafening sound of crickets near the body of water down the way. They moved from the left to the right, your eyes impulsively trained to pinpoint their movement. 

He watched as you disappeared into the bushes, only to appear seconds later, dragging someone behind you in the dirt. 

“Got him,” You said, hurling the unconscious stranger over your shoulder. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Minutes easily passed waiting for the stranger to wake from his scare. But he had no intention of cutting the wait short. His head was hanging low, almost touching his knees. Softly breathing he sat there, while you waited for any sign of movement. 

“How is he still unconscious?” You sighed. 

"You gave him quite the scare, I'm sure." 

"To be fair, that guy looks like he would be scared by a kitten." You said, eying him with pity "I think a nice wakeup call is in order."

"What are you thinking? Fire?" Kaleb chimed in. 

"You do know all of this is made out of wood, right?" You asked, pointing on the wooden interiors. 

"Don't tell me you don't like to set things ablaze." 

"I'm not one for setting anything on fire these days." You muttered, pushing the rush of guilt that enveloped you down where it belonged. Only thinking about the smell of fire, the embers that sprinkle into the air and the blasting heat that melted skin from bones, was enough to wish that you could dig a hole and be swallowed into the earth without abandon. 

But there was no time for it now. Perhaps there never will be. 

"You know let's not go the magic route." You continued "Sometimes all you need is a good slap in the face to get the day started."

"Sure, who needs caffeine if a slap in the face will do." Kaleb chuckled.

You closed in on the stranger and slapped him in the face with gusto, stirring him awake like an unexpected thunder. Realisation dawned on him when he blinked through his tired eyelids and saw your face 

“Oh shit, you're Y/N.” He tried to make a run for the door, but you pushed him back where he came from “Oh God, I'm so dead.”

“See?" You looked over your shoulder gesturing your hands toward the tied up stranger "That is how they usually react. With fear. Not all cocky and all-knowing like you were.”

“Well, I find your intimidation charming.” Kaleb grinned. 

"Sure, because me being scary is such an admirable quality."

"You know numerous ways to kill a man. It's hot." He shrugged unapologetically.

“Uh... "The stranger uttered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "You know I´m still here, right? Not that I don't condone this flirting but-”  

"I'm not flirting." You defended adamantly. 

"Maybe. But he is, clearly not successfully.” The stranger let out a chuckle and immediately regretted it by the way Kalebs face delved into anger.  

Was that how people saw your early partnership with Kaleb? Did they assume you'd just fall into the arms of somebody else that quickly? If a stranger saw it, everyone else would too. You could already hear them talk behind your back, laughing at your broken promises and weak composure. What if those rumors were the only thing Kol would hear when he'd walk the earth again when you were dead and gone? You could not are the thought. However useful Kaleb was maybe you had to get rid of him after all. 

“Listen," You continued "If you tell me who sent you, I might let you live. Spoiler alert, probably not.”

"He said to look out for any sign of trouble, that's it. I'm- I don't want any trouble.”

“Who sent you. I want a name.” You asked again, all the while trying to think of who would send an amateur like him after you. These days everyone knew that he'd be gutted if he crossed your path. 

Following his continued silence you lowered yourself to his seated level, and with your fingers grazing his clothed chest you said “I wonder if you´ve ever had your chest opened before? Or do you prefer something more magical like boiling from the inside? I don't have much time to spare. So If you don´t talk, you´ll find out.” 

“Marcel, okay?!”The stranger spoke with hurry, “He was worried about you hanging out with this guy.” He nodded towards the door. You looked over your shoulder where Kaleb rolled his eyes so hard you swore they'd pop out any second. Eying the stranger again you took notice of his swooped dark hair, overly nervous yet intrigued inquisitive nature and his questionable taste in overly printed dress shirts. It dawned on you that this must be Marcel's friend he had been talking about endlessly. 

“Oh, you're his buddy. Josh!” You retreated your hand from his chest and stepped out of his personal space “Sorry for the well, unwelcoming welcome.”

"Yeah, it's becoming kind of a thing with everyone that hangs out with Count Dracula."

You grimaced at his words. "Do I look like I hang out with Klaus in my free time?" 

Josh considered for a moment, then shook his head "Yeah… probably not. From what I've heard you're more the stabbing him in the back type." His face fell when you raised an eyebrow and he added "Not that he didn't deserve it." 

Ah, that word again. Deserve. Nobody deserves anything. Often neither happiness nor grievances come to those who truly deserve them. It comes to those who consume them if they're entitled to them or not. The ones that persevere and push themselves up by kneeling others into the dirt. Those are the ones that take the good parts while the ones that truly deserve it shoulder the rest. That's the way of the world. Especially the supernatural one. And Klaus was both kneeling in the dirt and pushing others in it. You were unsure if he truly deserved what failed assassination attempt you brought upon him. You were not so sure you were worthy of being the judge, jury and executioner all on your own. Not anymore, and you had no idea if that was a good or bad thing.

“So uh.” Josh looked around the room awkwardly, an unspoken question written over his face. It was nothing new, they all had one if they dared to speak it out loud. 

“Ask what you want to ask.” You sighed.  

“The stories about you. Are they true?” He asked. Kaleb was interested too as his head snapped towards you in interest 

“Most of them.” You shrugged as you leaned against the table's edge behind you. You're not really in the mood to play interview with a vampire "And I think the worst is yet to come so better hurry back and tell Marcel to call off his protectors. I can handle myself. ”

“Yeah, I'd say. You're scary.” Josh headed for the door and dipped to the right only to appear a second later  “Uh, I have no idea where I am. "

“I assume you left your car near the church?” You asked and Josh nodded “It's about 20 miles northeast from here. Cell service is fickle, so just follow the trodden path.” 

"North East. Yeah right okay." He turned on his heels and headed outside again looking left and right to determine where to go. 

"That way." You pointed in the right direction and he thanked you with a round of finger gun before he disappeared. How Marcel has not gotten rid of him yet was beyond you. 

“Why does everybody keep saying that?" You returned to Kaleb side "Am I that scary?”

“Terrifying. In the best way.” He smiled and his gaze drifted to the floor before snapping back to your face. There was an intensity in his stare, unwavering and unrelenting in a way that kept your focus longer than it should have. 

When Kaleb's fingers drifted over your hand his breath hitched and grew still, and you had no intention of moving away. His calloused fingers grazed over your skin and had it not been for the immortal-ish aspects of you, your hands would be as callused, if not worse. 

When you slowly lifted your head to look at him he was so focused on his hand on yours that he did not seem to notice your shifted gaze. Your eyes drifted over his shadowed face, trying to pinpoint what about him it was that kept your attention. There was something familiar about him. The way he held himself, this unwavering confidence and charm that revelled in his authenticity. Perhaps you've met him before when grief had its hold on you, or during one of the anger engulfed moments or perhaps just passed by him on the streets. 

He felt familiar in a way that was comforting. Like a song you heard in passing that resurfaced with questionable intention and you´re left wondering why it felt as if you´ve heard it before.  He felt like bonding on public transport travelling with the same people day in and day out, only to miss them when they take a different route. Or the passing by someone on the streets wondering if it was a ghost of the past or someone that's just bearing a similar face. 

Reality hit soon after your wondering thought and unwavering guilt crushed you under its weight. You drew your hand away and Kaleb jumped at your sudden movement. 

Get a grip. What the fuck are you doing? 

No attachments. No distractions. 

“So, uh... “You cleared your throat, putting some distance between you. “The rune thing. You find anything?” 

“Let´s see.” He burdened a smile and returned to the table to find that etched lines have appeared on the bare stone tablets. 

“Interesting. These two are next to each other, almost connecting."He said, pointing at the first two stones. The first one symbolises strength. You're bound to an unmatched power, yet no that can't be right.”

“What is it?”

“This rune," He said and pointed to the second one "It symbolises power but as an outside force. You´re not tied to your own power."

"What the fuck does that mean?" 

"You're bound to something powerful and that power depletes your own when it is being used. Like a battery of sorts." 

"Too much power for me to handle, huh? Explains the nosebleeds, I guess. But what is it?" 

"Whatever it is it's unlike anything I've seen." Kaleb's further words drifted out of focus when a shower of calculated noises drenched the room. There was someone outside yet again. 

You interrupted his foretelling, holding a finger to your lips "We have another visitor. Stay here and don't come out."

Kaleb reached for your upper arm when you turned away from him and said "Don't go out there." 

You snapped out of his grasp swiftly glaring at him as you said; "You don't tell me what to do." It was a low blow, sure, but perhaps he would keep his distance or disappear before things got even more complicated. Perhaps acting like this will cast him away.

Turning the corner on the far side of the cabin you were met with a suave demeanour full of torment and rage and a newly found hopelessness you had yet to pinpoint its location.

“Oh good, you're here. Want a drink?” You offered a swig of the bottle on the table outside. 

“I'm in no mood to socialize,” Klaus declined sternly, the darkness parting for his body as he stepped onto the splintering wooden walkway.

“When are you ever?" You deadpanned, but Klaus was far from being amused. You tried to lighten the mood, but it was of no use. He was furious. No doubt Esther or her bootlicker of a son spilt the beans about the white oak. Handling matters delicately was never their strong suit. 

"I can tell by the look on your face that you're here to kill me.” You said, trying to soothe the oncoming onslaught of judgement that was heading your way  “I assume I deserve it, but can you tell me why this time? Just so I can keep track. ” 

Klaus dragged his tongue over his parsed lips letting out a pitiful hushed laugh before he sat next to you, staring ahead. “I was simply minding my own business - ruling, killing my enemies and what not - and low and behold what do I hear? The white oak stake has resurfaced in the hands of my mother. My my, word does travel fast among the damned, now doesn't it?“

“Well, I'm sorry the world isn't arranging itself for your schedule.”  You peered back at his expectant face. Anger was flaring through your blood, an amplified sensation whenever Klaus was near. “But I don't see why this is my problem?”

“Don´t be coy with me. This has your name written all over. Disruption the order of long-established rules of battle for your twisted little schemes." He trickled his fingers against the wind as if he was holding strings attached to a marionette to control at his will. No doubt, he viewed you as a puppeteer master these days. High praise indeed, especially coming from someone as wicked as him.  

“I want to know why." His voice was quieter, soft almost, as he spoke into the wind "Why did you defy me when I gave you nothing but trust?” The way he stared holes in the floor uttering these words rattled a rush of guilt that you never expected to be directed at Klaus of all people. Klaus was confident with threats and violence, but bearing himself open was something he barely had the courage for. 

“Let's not pretend that we trust each other just because we shared a sentimental moment. Once.” 

“You know, I find it fascinating that you believe you are invincible to my wrath.” He continued harsher, covering his vulnerability “Our agreement has been made null and void by your actions, and you don't seem to care. More so you seem to enjoy it. Why is that?”

“You´re the master schemer here, tell me, what do you think I'm doing?” You leaned forward, eager to know what he had to say. No doubt he´d see right through the parts you wanted him to see. The question was if he had any idea beyond that. He was the mighty Klaus after all, and more so he was smart.

“I'd say you're playing both sides, though the recent events convinced me of something else entirely. You're bold, fearless; striking without weighing the consequences. Suspicious, isn't it? Unless you have the upper hand.” He turned his head again, observing your reaction like a hawk. “Is this charade your grand plan? Aiding my mother in her endeavors by handing over the only weapon that could kill my family? I must say, I'm not impressed.”

“You think that's the only part? Just another revenge fantasy? And here I thought you finally learned not to underestimate me.”

“It is because I do not underestimate you that I came here.” He said. It was high praise indeed coming from him, even if it came with a trickle of insult to be compared to the likes of the big bad Klaus.

“Good call, not sending Elijah then. He'd kill me just for ruining his shoes in this terrain. But if this is the only reason you came then you can go right back to your castle and rule your kingdom because Esther doesn't have the real white oak. It's s copy.” 

Klaus cocked his head to the side, the lamps fire now perfectly reflecting in his eyes. The look of distrust was written over his face, yet there was no doubt that he was intrigued by the information you laid out.

“See? I´m not trying to play games here. I give you my word.” You added with the hope that at least your word had not lost its ´s value when everything else had. 

He paused, dragging his tongue over his bottom lips swiftly, weighing his responses. “Your word means nothing until you live up to it.” You nodded, a silent promise you had no idea if you could uphold. Who were you kidding, of course, there wasn’t any way you would not place his head on the chopping block if it came to it. This whole thing was nothing but polite stakeouts as a way to keep up with the other´s schemes. Problem was, Klaus would offer you up just the same without blinking. 

The old Klaus anyway. 

If you would listen to the things circulating about him as of late, you'd think he had lost his old tyrannic ways. Found some way to soothe his grudge with the world and became a better person. It was laughable. People don´t change, you found that they mask themselves, sculpting a new life out what the fires left behind. They don´t change, they overpaint. And it was time that the ones whispering about Klaus alleged newly-found compassion, learned that lesson too or they´d head for disappointment. Either way, they'd wake up.

Shuffling from inside averted your attention to the cabin where Mikael and Kaleb were still hidden. Klaus' interest was peaked when your eyes slanted over to the side and remained there for a moment. 

“What is it?” He questioned.

You forced your eyes forward, despite the impending doom running through your veins. “Thought I heard something. Probably just an animal somewhere. Or someone who wants to kill me. Take your guess. These days I'm almost as unpopular as you.” You laughed, quickly glancing through the window again.

Klaus followed your gaze again but saw nothing but an empty cabin. He turned and walked across the porch to look into the other window and although he could not see anything, Mikael was inside with his hands around Kaleb´s throat demanding him to grant his release from your boundary spell. Klaus knew that dealing with witches- even a half witch like you- did not mean that what was in front of your eyes was necessarily what was truly there.

“Well here's to living up to my promises.” You said as you made your way to the door. I guess I'll see you back in town, yeah?” You tried to get rid of him, but it was too late. Klaus' paranoia had already sounded the alarm in his head and snapped the door closed with a push of his hand. 

"Who is with you?" His voice was dangerously low and calm, which only predicted the worst.

"No one. You know I don't do well in team scenarios." You waved him off. You had to get rid of him or this whole plan will go to hell. Plus your new friend in there would suffocate if kept fighting Mikael. 

Without being aware, you took a step back on the brittle flooring denting it enough to let the staff that was still leaning near the door fall from his resting place. It rolled on the angled flooring right towards Klaus’ feet. At first, he glanced at it, but at the second look, his eyes grew wide. He'd recognize the bearing crest anywhere. Within the next heartbeat, he dragged his eyes from the floor and you were granted a look that put hellfire to shame. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Your heartbeat beat so loudly it seemed to want to escape your chest, to flee the oncoming slaughter. You were not one to run, to hide and cower in fear. But this was different. Klaus knew you brought his hateful father back to life and he was right outside a spelt door, ready to burn this place down if he had to. There was no reprieve. You knew that the beating of your heart was numbered, counting down to your own demise.

You could´ve made him bleed, unconscious or writhe in pain, but it would not hold him down forever. Nothing could. So you headed for the door which gave you the luxury of a few more minutes before he would skin you alive. Distance was all that mattered, even if that distance was a brittle door that if not for the magic seal would break in two by the way Klaus was hammering against it.  

“If you want to fight me, why are you running?” Klaus yelled and paraded on the porch like a lion in a cage that was ready to end his captors. You turned your back towards the rattling door, your attention now focused on Mikael who still had Kaleb in his grasp.

“Release me or I will end him!” Mikael said, his fingers digging into Kaleb´s neck, cutting off his air supply, ready to snap his neck like a twig if he had to. 

You balled your hand to a fist forcing Mikael to his knees to bear the pain of your magic “You think you're in any position to make demands?” You shared a look with a heavy breathing Kaleb and he nodded while grasping his neck, signalling he was fine, though hurt in his pride. 

“Enough games, Y/N!” You jumped at Klaus´s voice which invaded through the cracks in the walls. “Let's finish this. Is this not why you brought him for? I'm not afraid.” 

You opened the door with a flick of your free hand while Mikael was kept in place with the other. 

If you cannot fight them on your own, let them fight each other. 

There you stood between the devil and the deep blue sea, one decision worse than the next, one would bring hellfire while the other would leave you stranded on the bottom of the ocean. There was- without a doubt- no silver lining at the crossroads you arrived at. If you released Mikael and held up your end of the bargain Mikael would slay Klaus and with him his entire line. Your brothers would die. You would die sooner than expected and thousands of vampires would die by your hand. Your chance of getting Kol his life back would slip through your hands like sand in an hourglass.

However letting Klaus in to fight his father would either result in the same outcome or he'd kill Mikael and with it every bargaining chip - and if necessary threat- you had hidden in your hold. Either way, you were backed into a corner, and an animal in a corner always fought back.

You took a breath that was loaded with thought. The men in the room picked up on your hesitation and Klaus was the first that dared to speak. “Let him go. I can't wait to stand over his burning corpse. Only this time, I intend to enjoy it more. ” 

He knew what was on the line for you if you let them fight. He knew. And something in his face told of nothing but victory. So you let them go and chase each other to death. Hatred was useful in a fight and Klaus had more than anyone. He will win. He had to. 

Right? 

Kaleb watched from behind as you drew the curtain open to and surely enough there in the distance, beyond the scarce line of trees you saw them fight. They managed to disrupt each of their blows but even from afar you saw Mikael had the upper hand. He kicked Klaus onto the ground and knocked him flat on his back towering over him. 

"And you're going storm after them right about…" Kaleb counted on his wrist as if checking an imaginary clock.   Now." 

You shot him a glare with the doorknob already in your grasp. You exited with Kaleb only a few steps behind. You were already vamp speeding away when Kaleb collided with the boundary spell

"Of course." He sighed and took in the room he was now trapped in "I guess it's time to set this thing on fire."

-----------------------------------------------------

A/N: I know it has been....months. 2020 y´all. Shit´s crazy. In all seriousness, my life did a 360 this year - as it did with everyone- so please excuse my absolute snail speed with writing these days.But thank you to everyone that´s here right now at the end of yet another chapter. Please let me know if you have any thoughts!! 

Also I was proud of my little sneak sentence when she talks about Klaus being hopeless. Because you know, he´s without Hope. I rather liked that.

Open Coffin Series Taglist: (message me if you want on or off this list!)

@shadyladyperfection @akshi8278​​ @thegoddessofvampire @newurleans @originalbish98 @acourtofhopeanddreams @bonniebird @imnoaingeal @cherryblossomllama @relmi-llorrac @piercethepottorff @maliae14  @5-seconds-of-animals @the-geeky-engineer   @rock-n-magick @flymeawayworld @givemesomehybrid @mikealsonlover @nuteller28 @fandoms-fandoms-everywhere99 @drkplum @fandooomqueenforyou @free-the-fangirl @clockworkballerina @twisted1ginger @superwholocksociopath474   @pacifyprincessxo @mustachio1616 @thealyana​ @sandyclaws @unicorntrooper​ @buckysummers​ @sanity-is-overratedxp​ @lunna-star-8​ @graysonmalfoy​ @woodworthti666​ @elenavaldez02 @lilulo-12​ @selmasemlan​ @thelostallycat​ @characterobsessed​ @cococola-cocaine​ @crazyinternetgirl @codenamewitcher​ @-thatgirloverthere-​  @alwxadria345​ @trymexo​ @mizzezm​ @willieshakesqueer​ @spunky-89​ @putyourherohaironstefan​ @xxdragonagequeenxx @thegingerthatwaited​ @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven​ @hinata7346​ @controloffandoms​ @sabrielflowers

[soukoku-rivals]

Summary

My darlings, it’s been over two years and we’re done with 2 part out of 3 of this comic. And I am amazed that I actually got this far, that you got this far. Really, without your support, all the comments, likes and reblogs, and of course the coffee, it wouldn’t be possible.

There is only one last part of this comic left - 3 chapters and an epilogue. But before that happens, you voted to the summary so here it is!

It’a very short and I probably skipped some parts one may consider more important than others but I hope it still serves it purpose.

Read under the cut!

Atsushi and Dazai go to a shopping mall where they meet Chuuya. Chuuya is angry at Dazai [as always] but he puts his feelings aside when the mall is attacked by a small gang aiming to rob the patrons. All three of our heroes need to work together in order to stop the bad guys.

Atsushi is amazed at Soukoku’s partnership and Chuuya ends up giving him a few helpful tips on how to fight. Chuuya also identifies the gang as the Wolf School whose leader is a Polish ability user, Sapkowski. The knowledge comes in handy when Dazai and Atsushi come back to the agency and it turns out that the Wolf School not only aimed to rob the shopping mall but also kidnapped a person.

The person kidnapped is Alexandre Dumas, a French ability user with the skill of The Three Musketeers which allows him to see what abilities other people have, can amplify them through touch or contact with his blood and can make regular people physically stronger. His partner, John Locke hires the agency to get him back.

It is again Dazai and Atsushi together on a mission and they meet Chuuya once more, deciding to join forces. This time Atsushi is supposed to join the shorter part of Soukoku and retrieve Dumas first before Chuuya destroys the Wolf School gang. Dazai hangs back.

Chuuya and Atsushi talk about Dazai and how Chuuya hates the other man for always manipulating and using other people. For manipulating and seemingly not caring about mafia while he seems to care about the agency. Atsushi still believes that Dazai is a good person but the conversation is cut short when Chuuya reminds them they have job to do.

They manage to find Dumas after killing two gang members guarding a room. Dumas is unconscious and Atsushi has to carry him out. On their way, however, they are discovered by other members of the gang members and this is when the fight starts.

Sapkowski is an ability user who can turn into mythological and fictional monsters with the help of his skill, The Witcher. However, using Dumas’ blood he amplifies his power and turns all his people into monsters and himself into a dragon.

At disadvantage with Dumas unconscious and needing protection, Atsushi and Chuuya hide when Dazai comes back with Akutagawa as the cavalry. Shin Soukoku face the enemy while Chuuya and Dazai have a talk about how Dazai manipulated Chuuya again with Dumas – kidnapping people and imprisoning them for fun seems to be a sensitive topic for Chuuya.

Before Dazai manages to say something in reply, Akutagawa gets badly hurt and then Dazai falls unconscious after a hit in the head. With three people down, and only Chuuya and Atsushi able to fight, Chuuya decides to take a drastic step. He tells Atsushi to get the other three out into safety while he himself activates Corruption to fight off the enemy after bestowing his hat to Akutagawa.

Dazai wakes up while Atsushi is already out with all of them and manages to get to Chuuya before he dies from overusing his power.

In the mafia infirmary Chuuya remembers how Dazai always used to be there for him after using Corruption, even gifting him with his iconic blue gem bolo tie that’s supposed to symbolize how Dazai will always love Chuuya and won’t let him die. Until one day Dazai is gone and so is the tie. Though Dazai seems to be wearing it now, and what does that mean for Chuuya? However, Kouyou is there this time, ready to comfort him.

Back at the Agency, Locke is there to pick up his partner. As it turns out, he has an ability as well and with it he can take away people’s memories. He erases all memory of Dumas’ power from the agency minds, unknowingly leaving out Dazai, who is unaffected for obvious reasons.

At night Chuuya decides to get rid of the remnants of Wolf School where he meets Locke. He figures out what Dumas’ power is and Locke says he has no choice but to take Chuuya’s memories as well. Locke’s power, Tabula Rasa, wipes the mind completely without Dumas’ The Three Musketeers to control it better and so Chuuya ends up as a blank slate.

Locke tries to get him back to the agency but on his way Chuuya is intercepted by an unknown person working for Fyodor while Dazai watches from the window, having no idea what just happened.

Later, Locke has nightmares caused by Chuuya’s memories and figures out his partner and Chuuya grew up in the same facility. He is in trouble for hurting his partner’s childhood not-friend.

[That was only part 1, this is so long, and I skipped so much, I’m sorry]

Part 2 starts with a flashback of how Chuuya and Dazai first met, Dazai already thinking about suicide and Chuuya desperate to have a happy life. They fight.

In the present, Dumas and Locke arrive at the agency hoping to find Chuuya there but mysteriously he’s not. Dazai invites them for a coffee to talk things through. This is when Dumas finds out what Locke already knows – Dazai is immune to abilities – and Dazai finds out that Locke and Dumas are members of Trickters, ability group specializing in mind control. While trying to contact Chuuya, Kouyou tells them he is missing.

Atsushi gets called over to test if Locke can actually bring memories back – he can – and to bring the footage of CCTV recording from when Chuuya was seen last outside the agency. Dumas identifies the man who took him as Mikhail Bulgakov, another ability user with the power of The Master and Margarita, which marks one person as the ‘Master’ and other as ‘Margarita’ and makes Margarita believe in every word the Master says and support them.

[This never came up but this is as good place as any to point out, I never said Alex can tell a person’s name just by looking at them. Bulgakov is actually a member of the Tricksters as well, and that’s why Hella works with him, and his code name is either Woland or Satan.]

Dazai is terrified of what that implies since Chuuya is with Dostoevsky and obviously, Fyodor would use that power against them. Dazai excuses Locke and Dumas saying he will contact them once they have Chuuya back. They leave not before advising Dazai that he may get Chuuya back as his boyfriend if he just tries, exposing Soukoku’s past relationship to Atsushi.

In the meantime Fyodor convinces Chuuya that they are actually dating. Of course, Chuuya being the loyal bastard he is, promises to prove his worth to Fyodor even after he lost his memories.

Dazai has a small breakdown and Atsushi is there to comfort him.

In another flashback we see smol Chuuya alone in the gardens as he help Rando/Rimbaud find Kouyou’s house. Rimbaud worried about the cold leaves Chuuya with his scarf and hat. Chuuya has very confusing emotions about all of this and is approached by Dazai who witnessed the conversation. Dazai explains that Chuuya bottles his emotions and that causes them to be too much and Chuuya to violently blow up hurting people around. In Dazai’s opinion, Chuuya just needs to let himself feel. Together they go back to Kouyou’s house, holding hands, and Rimbaud takes back his scarf after Chuuya thank him, but let’s the kid keep the hat.

In the present, it is quite some time after Chuuya disappeared. Dazai holds a meeting explaining which places is Fyodor most likely to attack using Chuuya. Kouyou is frustrated at the lack of their progress.

Meanwhile, Chuuya after all his training with Corruption is in a visibly bad state but still determined to carry out Fyodor’s orders still believing Fyodor is his partner and that he has friends there – Hella, Behemoth and Koroviev – who like to play poker with him. Of course, he can’t let them down.

Shin Soukoku and Kyouka [who, the author believes, should always work together, have you seen Dead Apple?] are observing one of the targets and lo and behold, Chuuya appears.

They notify Dazai, who immediately sets out with Yosano to their place, and set out to keep Chuuya there until Dazai and Yosano arrive. Chuuya has no trouble fighting the kids, apparently using Dumas’ blood which Fyodor got from the Wolf School, to control Corruption. Fortunately, Dazai arrives and pins him to the ground. In order to get out, Chuuya tricks him into kissing and then stabs him in the arm [aiming for the throat] and gets out.

In the last attempt to stop his escape, Atsushi attacks, slicing through Chuuya’s gravitational bomb and chopping off his arm. Chuuya, hurt and bleeding escapes. Dazai rushes after him and finds him in an abandoned warehouse where Chuuya loses his consciousness.

In another flashback we find out why Dazai ‘broke up’ with Chuuya by making Chuuya hate him and pretending to hate him in return. He tells Odasaku, that Chuuya loses his control when Dazai’s safety is involved and is willing to hurt himself in order to keep Dazai safe. Being the death seeking person Dazai is, he is worried Chuuya will end up hurt because of him and it’s better that they are not together.

In the present, Dazai understands that his ways were wrong and he should have spoken to Chuuya instead of just leaving him. He wishes for another chance but only when Chuuya is back to normal.

Atsushi arrives to see Dazai and Chuuya in the room together, Chuuya sleeping strapped to the bed and Dazai holding his hand. Dazai explains that Chuuya is most likely still brainwashed by Fyodor, even though he nullified The Master and Margarita and because of that they need to keep him from going back to the rat. It’s a hard decision for him, since Chuuya had his choice taken away from him since a very young age – being an experiment subject in a research facility in France and later caught and sold by human traffickers to Japan. He states that for Chuuya going back to the mafia would be the best.

Chuuya was only pretending to be asleep and heard everything but then he ‘wakes up’ officially and falls back into his old bickering with Dazai even though he doesn’t necessary remember him.

While in the ADA, Chuuya is visited by Kouyou and Akutagawa who show deep care for him and Akutagawa actually brings him the hat, Chuuya recognizes from the pictures he saw at Fyodor’s place. Chuuya is confused.

Later that night, Chuuya and Dazai sleep together, Dazai removing his bandages to keep constant contact with Chuuya in order to nullify his powers. Still, Chuuya escapes through the window taking Dazai’s coat and his hat.

We see Dazai open his eyes and call Atsushi telling him that Chuuya escaped as planned and is on route that should make him meet Dumas and Locke ready to give his memories back. Dazai predicts they may need Yosano.

Meanwhile, Fyodor dismisses Bulgakov and his group but tells Hella to stay behind. Hella is the daughter of Locke and has been spying on Fyodor for his dad and because of that, Chuuya was able to get to the agency safely and get his memories back so he can go back to Fyodor in perfect condition. Fyodor kills Hella for her services.

[yshai-tia]

. layercake

.LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE

name: y’shai tia

“at yer service, mate. aye, though ye might wanna ask again inna moon ‘er so-- lil’ more papers ‘ta push through an’ the last bit’ll change there. still can’t gods damned believe it if y’ask me.”

eye color: blue (left), green (right)

“pree’ common combo fer seekers, y’know? green from me ma, can only guess the blue from dear ol’ pops. is tha’ how it works? i ain’ a genetics sorta guy.”

hair style/color: black, lackadaisical

“oi now, leas’ it ain’ a qiqirn’s nest. take care ov’ me braids though, if yer lucky jus’ might tell ye what they mean some day.”

height: 5 fulms, 9 ilms

“look, ‘m tall fer a miqo’te, thas’ gotta count fer somethin’. ain’ about the height, mate, s’all ‘bout how ye use what yer slapped with.”

clothing style: predominately black with abhorrent amounts of leather

“what, like either ov’ those things ‘er ev’r gonna go outta style? lookin’ good an’ bein’ durable, ye can’t really go wrong there. an’ it ain’t like ‘m allergic ‘ta change, startin’ ‘ta get used ‘ta this whole buttoned ‘ta the throat business. sorta.”

best physical feature: absolutely everything, take your personal pick

“c’mon now, lookit yers truly, notta shortage ov’ ‘bests’ in sight, choosin’ jus’ one would jus’ be cruel. thick thighs, thick arse-- lil’ thick in th’ head sometimes but, aye, leas’ yer lookin’ at somethin’ nice.”

.LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

your fears: physical restrictions, i.e. being bound, failing to protect those he loves and/or hurting them himself, powerlessness and ineptitude, particularly large coeurls

“cor, jus’ had ‘ta go from a fun question straight ‘ta this. lighten up, mate.”

your guilty pleasure: who’s guilty?

“ain’ nothin’ guilty ‘bout indulgence-- an’ i sure as shit don’ think ‘bout-- ... ah, fuck. guess there was one time... but that was long ‘go now, ain’ no point bringin’ it up.”

your biggest pet peeve: don’t get him started

“the fact that ul’dah exists, does that fuckin’ count? aye, yer right, ‘ta big ‘ta be a peeve. cor, i dunno, what ye cryin’ over spilt yak’s milk fer. i guess... aye, well, this is a personal one-like, but whiddle this fer a second; self-proclaimed sorts ov’ engineers who go off wif’out a single thought fer consequences. ... aye, aye, i hear ye, real fuckin’ bold fer someone like me ‘ta bitch ‘bout that, but, listen, a guy can change. it’s one thing ‘ta fuck ‘round with things ye don’ understand fer the sake of curiousity but ye also don’ see me gettin’ ass deep in allagan bullshit jus’ cause there might be a fancy toy there that tickles me boredom away fer a spell. shit’s got its conveniences, aye, not like i dunno the uses ova’ tomephone-- but most ov’ it is also fuckin’ dangerous, not sayin’ that it shouldn’ be explored proper, but not by some renegade blighter who fancies himself some magitek wiz so far up his own arse it makes yer local garlean look like a dozen o’ roses.

swear, ye got folks out here thinkin’ jus’ cause they can take apart a chronometer ‘er do some basic maintenance on a firearm that they’re ready fer solo-scavenging-- next ye know they’re wadin’ in aetherochemical spills an’ huffin’ ceruleum.

so that’s one fer the road there, ask me again sometime an’ i’ll enlighten ye ‘bout all the fuckin’ joys ov’ seeker racism ‘ve ‘ad the pleasure of gettin’ ‘ta know.”

your ambition for the future: much and more

“one day ‘atta time has always been me go of things, aye, gander though i ain’t without dreams, ‘specially now with tha’ stability in me life-- let me think ‘bout things that i nev’r really thought mattered ‘ta much ‘ta me ‘fore, the future an’ like.

firs’ thing that comes ‘ta mind would be me projects, bein’ able ‘ta have me own workshop has been both a blessin’ an’ a curse; blessin’ fer obvious reasons, curse cause ‘m startin’ ‘ta have one ‘ta many irons in the fire, if ye whiddle me meanin’. the biggest one though... even i gotta admit tha’ this is a generational project at bes’ outlook, but. workin’ ta’wards bein’ able ‘ta purify an’ clean the land ov’ the remnants of war-- speakin’ ov’ ceruleum spills an’ the like. with hope me husband says that we could maybe one day bring th’ elementals’ blessin’ back ‘ta tainted lands, thas’ his field of expertise at work there... jus’ bein’ able ‘ta rid the land ov’ imperial consequence is a worthwhile goal ‘ta me, i reckon.

oth’r than that.. there’s some silly things, aye, winna big marksman competition ov’ sorts, fish up a catch that no one’s ev’r seen ‘fore, get stronger... thas’ one thas’ nev’r changed, fer differ’nt reasons now mind.”

.LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

your first thoughts waking up: depends on the morning

“considerin’ the curr’nt season an’ all, most of me mornins’ start with me husband latchin’ on ‘ta me an’ not lettin’ me leave the bed at leas’ an extra bell fer the sake of warmth.

which is ‘ta say me first thoughts when wakin’ are pree’ fuckin good ones.”

what you think about the most: his husband, work, personal projects, underlying worries and responsibilities he’s not prone to publicly airing

“i ain’ exactly the ‘fee-low-sof-ick-al’ type, mate. keep it simple-like, thinkin’ ‘bout what’s in front ov’ me, the next step aft’r that.”

what you think about before bed: depends on the night

“‘pends on if ‘m too fucked out ‘ta even think ‘fore sleep takes me ‘er not. still, thoughts still mostly the same ‘gardless-- usually somethin’ long the lines of jus’ how godsdamned lucky i really am.”

you think your best quality is: once again.... take your personal pick

“well, ‘lready mentioned me ass, me thighs... if ye fancy scars me chest an’ back are pree’ damn nice too, me arms got some neat lookin’ ones lemme-- oh, y’don’t mean physical this time. cor, why didn’ ye say so.

shit, uhh... well, i ain’ the type ‘ta give up, come hell ‘er high water. shit tha’ might be a flaw but fuck it, it gets results, at leas’.”

.LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

single or group dates: single

“the hell issa group date? like a bunch’a folk all mated goin’ out? separate mated pairs? yer missin’ me here. only got eyes fer one, so the point is prolly moot.”

to be loved or respected: respected

“this issa easy one. trus’ me, know what is like bein’ ‘loved’ without respect, shit’s fun fer a spell, strokes the ego ‘til yer cummin’ yer own pride an’ fumes, but is all the same as a grog binge down at the Wench-- ev’ry single time ye’ll wake up feelin’ like shite an’ prayin fer death. ye can get mighty high on’a pain an’ pleasure cycle like that, aye, but ‘ventually the pain wins out.”

beauty or brains: they correlate

“me baby’s got both, so it ain’t like i gotta choose. ‘m a spoiled bastard, i know.”

dogs or cats: both

“cute buggers aren’t they, the both ov’ em. been at the mercy ov’ the teeth ov’ ‘em both too-- from coeurls ‘ta imperial trained bloodhounds. still, can’t rightly hate the animal fer instincts an’ trainin’, all jus’ tryin ‘ta survive.”

.LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

lie: naturally. but also poorly

“ain’ ‘xactly me strongest suit, fair, but ‘ll bullshit me way ‘round somethin’ if i gotta.”

believe in yourself: of course-- sincerity is a non-factor

“fake it ‘til ye make it, mate. call it cheesy writin’ on the wall ‘er what’ver ye like, shit does the job. no one gives a shit how ye feel ‘bout yerself-- jus’ fuckin’ tell yerself that ye got this an’ go. don’ look back.”

believe in love: he’s in it

“kinda hard ‘ta refute somethin’ ‘m experiencin’, y’know.”

want someone: every second of every day

“jus’ ‘cause ye already have it don’ mean that ye stop wantin it. aye, if anythin’ jus’ want ‘em even moreso. constantly, shit never stops. it’s fuckin’ heaven, lemme tell ye.”

.LAYER SIX: EVER?

been on stage: not professionally

“nothin’ like singin’ er dancin’, less ye count bar tables as impromptu stages.”

done drugs: not always consensually. but a moko edible every now and again isn’t such a crime.

“relax, ain’ like i make a habit ov’ it. special occasion, really. don’ fancy bein’ out ov’ it ‘ta of’en.”

changed who you were to fit in: naturally

“ye gotta if ye wanna survive beyond yer own comforts, mate-- that is if yer lucky ‘ta be born inta’ such ‘ta begin with. look, is called adaptin’, an’ if ye haven’ noticed we miqo’te are pree’ fuckin’ good at it. not even mentionin’ tryna fit in at home-- when i left it was change ‘er die; changed when i started learnin’ the common eorzean tongue, changed when i started dressin’ different, when i started learnin’ how ‘ta act, walk an’ talk so as ‘ta survive, hold me own. y’see it all the godsdamn time-- lookit every miqo’te who changed their name once they started livin’ in one ov’ the big cities, aye, not all ov’ ‘em do, but ‘nuff do ‘fer us ‘ta notice.

it’s adaption. it’s survival. hide parts ov’ yerself ‘ta preserve the greater whole. ain’t sayin’ it’s a nice thing tha’ we gotta do it-- but, aye, survival rarely is ev’r nice.

... if yer lucky though, if ye live long ‘nuff, ye can start reclaimin’ them hidden parts ov’ yerself back, aye, s’process.”

.LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES

favorite color: black

“were ye expectin’ anythin’ else? ain’t gonna say no ‘ta gold either-- ‘specially of the rosey sort. they jus’ go ta’gether so well, y’know.”

favorite animal: jaguars, of course

“biased? me? ‘course not.”

favorite food: seafood in general, rustic homecooked meals, spicy food, way too sweet cream-filled coffee, nostalgic preference for almonds, coconuts, and fruit based desserts

“ye ev’r have those lil’ balls of cod deep fried in batter? could get meself sick on those buggers. too damn good. ‘specially if ye add a generous ‘mount ov’ dragon pepper ‘ta the fish ‘fore hand. ‘course if it’s good, fresh catch then ye can’t go wrong with simplicity neither, crab meat straight from the leg with no bells an’ whistles issa snack fit fer the finest.”

favorite game: card games, puzzles, anything that can spur fun competition, whether it be from hunting, to racing, to a snowball fight, isn’t adverse to the cheap thrill of betting on a race chocobo every now and again

“anythin’ can be good, fun competition if yer willin’ an’ rarin’, nothin’ like a lil’ friendly fire under yer arse ‘ta get the legs movin’ an’ cogs whirrin’.”

.LAYER EIGHT: AGE

day your next birthday will be: 28th day of the first umbral moon

“would be pree’ wild if me nameday wasn’ on.... me nameday.”

how old will you be: 29

“ugh, c’mon, i’m tryin’ not ‘ta think ‘bout it. knock it off.”

age you lost your virginity: between the ages of 19 and 21, he does not specify

“whas’ it matter? past is the past. leave it alone.”

does age matter: to an extent

“i ain’ no damn preacher, but it’s pree’ godsdamned obvious when someone is exertin’ power ov’r another. s’reason there be words like kid an’ adult. don’ fuckin’ be that person.”

.LAYER NINE: IN A BOY OR GIRL

best personality: bullheaded, smart, witty, compassionate, strong-hearted and strong-willed, brave, stubborn, impatient, and rather tactless

“maybe toss in a damn fine arse an’ voice like’a songbird-- wait, those ain’t personality traits?”

best eye color: rose gold

“bonus points if they gotta nice, natural glow ‘ta’em.”

best hair color: a warm rose peach with a streak of pale blonde

“what? ‘m a guy who jus’ knows what he likes. an’ i like what i like, cuff me if issa crime.”

best thing to do with a partner: exist with them in the entirety of life’s capacity

“call me fuckin’ sentimental, but learnin’ ‘ta fuckin’ live, really godsdamn live, with ‘em rath’r than jus’ survive... can’t fuckin’ be beat, jus’ can’t. shit’s golden, can’t wait ‘ta do it ev’ry single day on this star ‘til me times’ up.”

.LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE

i love: “me husband.”

i feel: “pree’ chuffed, might go fer a nap.”

i hide: “poorly. mean have ye seen me, mate? ain’t easy hidin’ when yer this big. less’ maybe was in a house built with roes in mind.”

i miss: “me ma. aye, still lot’sa things that make me miss home, wouldn’ change where i am now fer the world, mind.”

i wish: “... fish. er, sorry, mind blanked there. they rhyme. been at sea fer the past few days now.”

tagged by: @ffxiv-sunderedsouls​ tagging: this is a stupidly late response so not sure how alive this particular meme is still but, here’s the deal; you wanna do this? do it and tag me THAT WAY i’ll know in the future to tag you in other things, good deal, right? right?!

[nie7027]

Super 5 headcanons part 5

Part 1    Part 2     Part 3    Part 4

So...it’s been a long time right? HAHAHA

Minegishi sighed.

“For the last time I won’t help you sell Shimazaki on ebay” Minegishi stopped dicing the vegetables and turned to look at him with what in any other person would have been a raised eyebrow “I don’t even think it’s possible”

“Who would even buy him?” Shibata helpfully added from his spot at the sink where he was washing the dishes “Besides world domination our friend isn’t that useful for anything else”

Hatori stared when Minegishi just silently nodded

“I don’t know! But thats not the point!” Hatori grunted while shaking his head “It’s time for some retaliation-”

“So your idea for retaliation…” Minegishi deadpanned “is to sell him on ebay?”

Hatori wasn’t dumb, he could hear the snicker behind his flat expression.

“Laugh all you want!” Hatori said pointing an acussatory finger to Minegishi “But I am tired of letting Shimazaki do whatever he wants with is without facing any consequence!”

“Are you still mad about the raccoon thing?” Shibata laughed drying his hands with a washcloth to pat Hatori on the back “C'mon! It was just one rabies shot! And the doctor said it was just cautionary”

Hatori flustered when this time Minegishi openly snickered “You got rabies shots? Aren’t you supposed to get those as a kid?”

“Why would I know? Do you even have yours?” Hatori retorted bittely not expecting Minegishi to actually stop laughing.

“I don’t know…?”

“Aha!” Hatori exclaimed not wasting the opportunity to latch onto this “What if that bastard brings ANOTHER racoon?!”

“He wouldn’t-”

“Are you sure? Absolutely sure?”

At Minegishi’s lack of response Hatori screamed victoriously “See? This is why you have to support me with my plan!”

“Sell him on ebay you say…” Minegishi muttered while tapping the kitchen counter with his finges.

“You can’t be seriously considering this!” Shibata exclaimed outraged “Ha ve you lost your minds? We aren’t selling our friend on internet”

“He’s not my friend” Hatori quickly complained.

“And I never said I agreed on selling him on ebay” Minegishi continued “But Hatori’s right and it’s time we put some limits to him”

“YES”

“And that’s why we should talk with him instead”

“SHIBATA NOOOO”

“Shibata’s right”

“NOOOOOOOO” Hatori cried miserably, victory had been so close “whyyyy?”

“Im sorry buddy but that’s the right and mature thing to do” Shibata said not sounding sorry at all

“Hatori stop whinning and finish setting the table so we can finally eat”

Minegishi rolled his eyes at Hatori’s sulking form and finished cooking with Shibatas help.

Once they entered the living room with the finished food Minegishi noticed Hatorics hesitance

“Is something wrong?”

“I was just wondering if i should put another plate. Is the bastard going to eat with us?”

“Speaking of which” said Shibata carrying the last of their homemade food “Where is he?”

“I don’t know” shrugged Minegishi “He was annoying me because he was bored and you were late so I told him to go and find something else to do before I choked him”

“And he did it just like that?” Shibata asked surprised.

“I had to threaten him starvation and not buying his cereal forst but it worked”

Shibata hummed “He probably went dog sighting”

“Probably”

“How long ago was that”

“Like 5 minutes before you arrived”

“Then it will be a while before he returns”

Minegishi shrugged again “I wouldn’t worry about him”

They were halfway through their food when Hatorics eyes catch sight of something in Shimazakis makeshift cabinet.

“Are those his glasses?”

Minegishi turned to where Hatori was pointing “Yes”

“I thought he didn’t take them off ever”

“I guess he listened when I complained about dogs saliva on them” Minegishi said “If he is indeed dog sighting”

“I’m pretty sure he is” Shibata said comfidently “Dog saliva? Really?”

“Yeah, between that and the paw shaped stains on his clothes…he was driving me crazy”

“Oh I know! The first time it was really hard to get rid of the stench of trash but I found in internet a helpful mix of…” Shibata’s words died in his mouth when he saw Hatori stand up and pick the glasses.

Minegishi stared confused “What are you doing?”

Hatori didn’t respond and when he made his way to his forgotten backpack Shibata facepalmed.

“Buddy, no. Did you seriously bought those?”

Hatori turned around with a devilish smile om his face while clearly hiding something behind his back. “Well i never thought you would actually help me with the ebay plan”

Minegishi turned to look at Shibata expecting some kimd of clarification.

“We passed a toy store on our way here and Hatori saw…something.” Shibata said in a tired tone shaking his head clearly dissppointed “I can’t explain it…Just show him already”

Hatori proudly revealed what he was hiding. Besides Shimazaki’s glasses there was another pair.

The other pair were one of those funny looking glasses you used for disguisses or parties with crazy colourful swirly cartoon eyes that seemed to wink when you move them and stupid antennaes that ended in a pink cotton ball hanging from the sides.

It was the stupidest thing Minegishi had ever seen.

“You do realize he wont ever fall for this right?” Minegishi deadpanned once again “He will immediately feel those antennaes movement”

“Have more faith in me” Hatori huffed taking off the apparently removable antennaes thus making the glasses look a little less stupider but stupid nonetheless.

Minegishi picked both glassesand turned them around inspecting them. He had to give Hatori some credit. he had managed to find a pair with the exact same shape as Shimazakis and made of the same cheap plastic.

They were perfect…except for one thing.

“They don’t weight the same” Minegishi stated raising the toy glasses. to be honest he wasn’t sure but it was an educated guess.

“You gotta be kidding me right?” Hatori exclaimed “Who cares? He won’t even notice that!”

“He will” Minegishi seriously said before standing up and walking away still holding both pair of glasses.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Hatori screamed following Minegishi back in the kitchenb Shibata just behind him.

When they got there they found Minegishi already kneeling rummaging one of his low cabinets.

Hatori turned to look at Shibata but the big man just shrugged in return as lost as him.

“Aja!” Minegishi suddenly exclaimed standing up holding his white digital scale. He then weighted both pair of glasses.

The toy glasses weighted 10 grams less.

“Told you” Minegishi triumphantly exclaimed.

“So?” Hatori spluttered “Yeah, fine! They don’t weight the same. It’s just 10 grams! He won’t-”

“He will”

“Again I repeat myself” Hatori said losing his patience “YOU GOTTA BE FUCKINH KIDDING-”

He couldn’t finish his sentence because Shibata decided in that moment to place one of his heavy hands on Hatori’s shoulder “Minegishi…Hatori is right. Don’t you think you are being a little… paranoic?”

“No” Minegishi firmly stated shaking his head “Why do you think I take him shopping?”

“Because you were trying to teach him how to be a good person…?” Shibata tried only for Minegishi to glare at him. They already knew how much of a failure that had been.

Hatori shrugged, now it was his turn to try. “Dunno man. I don’t even know why you even let him sleep here”

At the others failed attempts Minegishi continued “I don’t know how or what he does but he somehow can weight stuff with great precision”

“What” “What”

“I suspect it has something to do with Mental eye” Minegishi kept muttering unaware of the others awed expression.

“That’s…unexpected” “That’s fucked up”

“It helps me to make sure Im being sold what I payed for” Minegishi shrugged “ANYWAY my point is if I noticed it he will certainly do it too. If we are doing this we have to do it right”

The phrasing didn’t escape Hatori. “We…?” he asked in disbeliefb excitement barely concealed in his tone.

When Minegishi smirked Hatori couldn’t help but give a devilish smirk of his own. in unison they both turned to Shibata who just groaned.

“Fine. I’m in”

Both Minegishi and Hatori raised a fist in triumph. Shibata hesitantly joining them.

“But what are we doing then?” Shibata asked “The glasses don’t weight the same and Shimazaki is gonna arruve any moment now”

“Shit that’s true”

“I have an idea” Minegishi said calling upon the power welling inside him. Soon a sticky looking vine made its way to where the group was reunited. Minegishi inspected it and after some careful consideration he picked two small leaves growing from it and stuck them to the upper side of the toy glasses simulatin angry frowing eyebrows.

He then placed the toy glasses om the scale and with bathed breath they waited for the led screen to settle on a number.

They differed by less than a gram now.

“That’s enough…right?” Hatori quietly asked.

“It has to be…” Shibata added before turning to look at Minegishi. He was the judge, had the last work.

“I don’t know.” Minegishi confessed “But this will have to do. Quick Hatori. Shibata. Set everything we will need in place. We only have one chance amd we can’t afford to waste it.”

They barely had time to finish their already cold food and prepare everything when Shimazaku suddenly appeared in the middle of the room.

They did their best to act naturally hoping the blind man didn’t notice anything.

The moment Shimazaki popped in Minegishi’s living room he knew something was off.

He could feel the remnants of Hatori’s aura telling him he had been building artifacts but wherever they were they were deactivated because he couldn’t sense them. They were probably diacarded om the floor. It wasn’t the first time he did that.

He could feel Shibata tensing his muscles too but it wasn’t like Shimazaki cared. He was hungry and he could smell food so he made his way to his cabinet to fetch his things.

He grabbed his glasses and put them on while he turned about to ask what they had for dinner but before he could do that the whole room erupted in chaos.

“GO GO NOW” Hatori screamed barely restraining his laughter while his artifacts suddenly tuner to life.

Shimazaki could feel them flying, closely circling him but besides that he could hear them. His expartners laughing. Laughing so much they were almost wheezing

“Oh my god” exclaimed Shibata trying to stiffle his laugh with his free hand. The other was busy holding something that made a clicking noise.

“THIS IS SO MUCH BETTER THAN I THOUGHT” Hatori cackled pointing at him.

Even Minegishi had bursted laughing!

Shimazaki didn’t know what was happening but he knew something was happening and he didn’t like it.

With a swift movement he took down all of Hatori’s devices, one after another.

“NOOOOO” Hatori screamed “MY BABIES”

Once the artifacts were destroyed Shimazaki turned and launched himself at their vey own creator.

Hatori yelped traying to scurry away from him but Shimazaki was too fast.

Or he would have been if it werenct for the fact Shibata tacklee him before he could reach the little pest.

“Don’t even think that” the big man growled as if that was enough to stop him.

Without wasting another second Shimazaki teletransported behind Hatori and with a strong kick slammed him against Shibata sending them both flyin to the nearest wall.

He was about to punch a hole in them when a sturdy vine wrapped around hos arm stopping him.

“Shimazaki stop” Minegishi exclaimed in a low menacing voice. His hand raised ij prepartion glowing with his aura.

Shimazaki teletransported all around the room avoinding the quick vines Minegishi sent after him trying to bound him.

Soon he made his way towards the plant user and when he was in close range he raise his legt ready to plan another kick in the mans chest but hr had to teletransport before he could do it because somethin was flyin comind directly for his head. Whatever it was it sounded metallic when it crashed om the wall instead.

“You psycho! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” Hatori, now surrounded by a bunch of floating stuff ready to be thrown screamed.

Provoked, Shimazaki threw himself once again agains the smaller esper “You were laughing!”

“IT WAS A PRANK JACKASS” Hatori yelled reflexively raising his arms forming a protective barrier.

But it wasn’t needed because that actually made Shimazaki stop.

“A prank?” was all he was able to say before a wave of vines encircled him and threw him to the floor.

“Yes idiot. A prank.” Minegishi walking to where they were and looking down at him “If you had calmed down we could have explain it to you”

Minegishi glared at the bounded man below him. He knew Shimazaki could free himself in any moment. Shimazaki knew it too, afterall he wasn’t squirming instead he stayed put glaring at Minegishi waiting for an explanation.

Or at least he tried. He was stilk wearing the toy glasses and if it wasn'tfor the sight of his destroyed apartment Minegishi would have laughed again.

The final tally after everything was cleaned and accounted for included Hatori’s phone, Minegishi’s toaster and coffe maker (which Hatori had used to build the flying wifi connected cameras and then Shimazaki utterly destroyed) a broken lip from Hatori (though he alleged he had a broken rib too), an unconcious Shibata (who took all the brunt of hitting the wall and that Minegishi had to use his vines to drag and lay to rest on the sofa) and a huge whole on the wall where Shibata had landed, completely fracturing it (Minegishi could consider himself lucky that it hadn’t been one of the buildings support walls).

And an annoyed Shimazaki who was too impatient to wait for them to pick up the place.

“Toy glasses…?” Shimazaki dubiously said when they finally explained what all that had been about. He had taken them off and now was moving his hands along feeling them.

“Yes. They are dumb, they are stupid. You didn’t have to punch our guts but who cares? You are welcome” Hatori said curtly. He was pissed seated on the sofa at the end of Shibata’s feet trying to fix his phone to not succes which only pissed him more.

Minegishi sighed tiredlyb it was too late for this. “We just want to take some photos of you wearing them. We thought it would be fun-”

“How are they?” Shimazaki interrumpted

“What?”

“How do they look?” Shimazaki suddenly asked seriously. He had stopped touching the glasses and was now frowning at them.

“Uhhh…They are pink?”

“Pink?”

“Yeah! pink you dumbfu-” Hatori snapped but stopped himself when he saw the confused look Shimazaki was throwing at him “Of course you don’t know what pink is.. ”

He groaned and turned to look at Shibata for help but the man was still passed out.

“Pink…is this color…like red and white?”

“…”

“It’s for girls!” hatori said throwing up his hands in surrender “Minegishi can you help me out”

“They are pink” Minegishi continued shaking his head “ Amd they have this swirly cartoon eyes that wink when you move them-”

“Wink?” Shimazaki asked again looking more confused.

“Yes, they wink. It’s an effect. Don’t think too hard about it-”

“What is this?” Shimazaki said picking apart one of the leaves. “Is it a plant?”

“Yep. Minegishi put them so they weighted the same as your glasses. It worked!” Hatori said in a better mood. As if the fact they managed to trick Shimazaki made him happier “They looked like angry eyebrows. Frowning eyebrows”

“Frowning?”

“Yes. like you are doing at this very moment” Minegishi said casually pointing at Shimazakis face.

Shimazaki brought a hand to his forehead and lightly patted his eyebrows.

Minegishi ws about to keep talking describing the stupid glasses when the unthinkable happened.

One…two…three…snickers escaped Shimazaki’s mouth and before he or Hatori could understand what was happening he was chuckling.

“OH MY GOD WHAT IS HAPPENING? IS HE HAVING AN ATTACK?” Hatori asked panicked and Minegishi couldn’t blame him for that.

It’s not that they had never heard Shimazaki laugh. It was that this was completely different from the mocking laugh they were accustomed.

This was a pure unadultered laugh and Minegishi and Hatori could only stare at the way Shimazaki was bending over while fits of laughter took him over not knowing how to act.

It didnt take much (even though it felt like it did) for Shimazaki to raise with a tiny genuine smile showing on his face while he recovered his breath like they had never seen before.

Afterall maybe a destroyed apartment and an unconcious friend had been worth it.

Because they had to wait for Shibata to regain conciousness and make sure he was okay they ended up going to sleep really late.

Which meant Shimazaki was going to kill the man at the door who woke him with his incesant knocking and shouting.

“MINEGISHI” Shimazaki loudly groaned rolling on his back on the couch and covering his eyes witth his arm wishing that was enough to keep his mental eye from seeing “IM GOING TO KILL HIM IF HE DOESNT STOP”

“I already heard!” Minegishi answered entering in the living room dragging his feet

“IM COMING” he said before mumbling under his breat “Who could even be this early?”

Shimazaki didnt care and he was already readying himself to go back to sleep when Minegishi opened the door.

It was going to be possible. The man seemed to have a death wish.

The shouting not only returned but it increased in volume.

“MINEGISHI SAN” the mans voice boomed in minegishis tiny apartment and to shimazakis surprise Minegishi actually flinched

“Y-Yamada san what are-”

“CARE TO EXPLAIN ME WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED HERE?” the man screamed somehow louder “I WOKE UP TO DOZENS OF TEXT MESSAGES AND CALL AFTER CALL FROM THE NEIGHBOURS COMPLAINING ABOUT SOME SORT OF CONMOTION GOING IN MY BUILDING”

“I-”

“AND WHAT DO I FIND WHEN I FINALLY COME HERE? TENNANTS APPROACHING ME WITH WILD STORIES ABOUT THE BUILDING TREMBLING AND CONCERNS ABOUT THEIR SAFETY”

So far Shimazaki had been trying to tune the mans screaming but the more the man continued the harder minegishis grip on the doorframe got drawing Shimazakis attention. It was rare to see him nervous.

“I OF COURSE TRIED TO CALM THEM DOWN. TELLING ME THERE WAS NOTHING TO FEAR. MY BUILDING IS SAFE…”

“BUT THEN SHIMURA SAN FROM #213 COMES AND TELLS ME ABOUT A DENT APPEARING ON HER WALL IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT”

“…”

“Minegishi san…would you be so kind to explain me why A HUGE FUCKING DENT SUDDENLY APPEARED IN THE WALL SEPARATING YOU APARTMENTS?” the man finally screamed out of breath

“Ill pay for the damage” was everything Minegishi said

“OH IM MAKING SURE YOU DO THAT” the man raged on taking a step forward and jabbing a finger in Minegishis chest.

“I know your story Minegishi san.I know what you used to do and let you come here despite my best judgement” the man hissed with his finger still deeply buried in Minegishis chest. Shimazaki couldnt understand why Minegishi kept listening. “I should just evict you. But I am a generous man and I know you wont be accepted anywhere else so… ill let you stay, given you pay for all of the repairs…who knows how deep your little stunt damaged my building”

“A-all of the repairs?!” Minegishi exclaimed

“And any demand issued againys my persona for this incident”

“Wh-But Yamada-san! I don’t have the momey to pay for all that”

“You seriously expect me to believe that? You should have thought that! And if you refuse to pay I will call the police-”

That’s it.

“You arent calling anybody funny man.” Shimazaki said with a smile telatransporting just behind Minegishi immeditely getting the desired effect.

“W-WHO IS THIS?” the man screamed jumping backwards

“Yamada san this is Shimazaki” Minegishi sighed “He is … a friend of mine-”

“IS THIS ANOTHER ONE OF YOU LUNATICS?” the man pointed a trembling finger in Shimazakis direction

“Who I am doesnt matter.” Shimazaki started but was interrupted by Minegishis hissing

“Shimazaki”

Shimazaki ignored him teletransporting to the space previosly occupied by the man earning another scream from him.

“What matters to me is…” shimazaki said leaning forward dropping his smile “who the fuck are you?”

“W-Who am I?!”

“Yes, you. Idiot.” Shimazaki sighed. The funny man wasnt as funny as he was brainless.

“EXCUSE ME? I’m the-”

“I dont care” Shimazaki quickly cut in “You are but an insignificant piece of shit who should have thought better before coming here and waking me up with all you babbling”

“Babbling? Waking you…up?” the idiot kept repeating everything Shimazaki just said “You sleep here?”

“Duh” shimazaki simply said because it was obvious but something happened because the moment he said that Minegishi groaned and the man who had been previously trembling suddenly stilled and was now looking over shimazakis shoulder at Minegishi

“Minegishi-san what is this?!”

“Uh…m”

“WHEN YOU RENTED THIS PLACE WE ACCORDED IT WAS JUST FOR ONE PERSON. I WONT HAVE FREELOADERS LIVING IN MY BUILDING. ”

“He was just over-”

“I DONT CARE. YOU KNOW THE RULES. THE RENT GOES UP 10000 YEN TO PAY FOR THE LINVING EXPENSES OF ANY EXTRA PERSON AND YOU WILL PAY THEM OR ELSE-”

“Or else what?” Shimazaki snarled grabbing the not so funny man by the collar of his shirt and raising him “You know? I am getting really tired of you.”

“LET ME GO YOU LUNATIC” the man uselessly kicked in the air

“SHIMAZAKI NO” Minegishis hand shot up effectively grabbing Shimazakis shoulder and stopping him from teletransporting to the bottom of the sea like he had been planning to. “Let him go”

Shimazaki unceremoniously dropped the man and he didnt waste a single second before fleeing down the hall almost tripping with his own feet.

Shimazaki laughed, closed the door and turned around ready to joke with Minegishi like they did everytime they decimated an opposing force.

Except Minegishi currently was sitting in the floor burying his face in his hands.

“Minegishi?” Shimazaki tentatively called

“If he calls the police then Im done for good” Minegishi quietly mumbled

“What? why?” Shimazaki exclaimed  “He was the one who came screaming and woke us up! He was screaming at you!”

“Dont you understand?” Minegishi straightened turning to look at Shimazaki “That was my landlord. I cant go around threatening my landlord!”

“Your what?”

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT A-” Minegishi started but stopped to take a deep breath 

“He owns this place” Minegishi finally saaid gesturing around

“What? I thought this place was yours”

“No  I don’t.” Minegishi grumbled “I don’t have that amount of money...I actually don’t even have enought to pay all of Yamada sans demands”

“What? Arent you super rich or something?”

“Waht makes you think that?”

“Well...with all the stuff you buy me...and how you are always working...”

“You though that I...?” Minegishi said in disbelief  before quietly chuckling “How much do you think Im paid?”

Shimazaki shrugs 

“You do realize you are a lost cause, right?”

“HEY”

Minegishi stood up dusting his pants “Here c’mon” he then walked towards the doors “Let’s go”

“Where?” Shimazaki whined “Im hungry”

“I have to go now and somehow covince everybody to not sue me or Yamada-san...I would preferred to change first but we have to do this as soon as possible if i dont want to pay even more money.”

“And why do i have to go? ” 

“For starters because this is your fault.” Minegishi deadpanned “And besides I dont trust you enough to leave you alone in my kitchen”

Shimazaki couldnt argue back so he crossed his arms and followed Minegishi out

I know, I know its been more than a year since I last updated this but *gestures vaguely* life.last year of college.new fandoms. global crisis...

And more importantly... tumblr deleting all my drafts

Seriously I had like a good chunk of the prank scene written since last years august but Tumblr kept deleting my drafts and i had to rewrite all of that like 5 times which was pretty descourangingly (that and the lack of response )

It’s a shame considering the whole scene of the prank was the main reason for me to write this. I was very excited to write it.

I hope it lived to your expectations because i know I kept talking about this

Anyway I wish i could tell you when the next part is coming, because theres still more (this thing just grows and grows out of control) but yeah *gestures vaguely at everything going around*

What I know is that I want to write this before i forget how key scenes go (part of the discouragement was that i forgot some cool witty dialogue i had for the prank and I was so mad at mysellf for not remebering) so lets see how this goes.

I missed these dorks.

Anyway any feedback is greatly appreciated (reblogs>likes).

You can find me  in ao3 ( Im posting these headcanons and other fics there)

 It’s an honor to contribute to leftist propaganda

[painted-crow]

Submission Time #10

so grateful for any input--it's a bit of a doozy but it's been weighing on me for a while :')

after struggling with my sorting literally forever i'm just realizing it might be burned. like... a couple layers of charring on the primary imo, and the secondary isn't doing so hot either. i've been cutting this down and it still reads like a sad diary entry but hopefully it's a bit more comprehensible now.

Spoiler alert: I've read ahead and... yes, friend, you're Burned. Hugs.

This post includes semi random bonus colors thrown in because there's like... lots of words I could say, and I don't have that many words available in my brain's stockroom right now, so we're extra colorful instead. Enjoy?

primary-wise, i would LIKE to trust my gut, but who hasn't had irrational, overwhelming feelings before? i can't make sense of it, fast enough or ever--and people who think they can make me jealous/nervous--so i go for rules, fact-checking, advice to find somewhere safe again. until of course that advice turns sketchy or uncomfy. then, even if i don't know WHY, i have to ditch it (which is also uncomfy bc it's flimsy and inexplicable but sticking w something that feels questionable hurts worse, even if it's more logical).

You might have already figured this out since writing this, but you're like... a textbook Stripped Gryff. Ouch.

It also sounds like you've tried to pick up a model or two to fill the gap, but it keeps falling apart on you...

worst is that tied up in the advice i abandon are my feelings about the people who gave it! i take into account only the people i'm Invested in, and an idea can't stay without its source. it SUCKS, bc i do love them and want to trust them, but i can't in good faith stick with assholes. (i work within do no harm principles so it doesn't matter if they're nice to me--i'm rlly not better than anyone else, and in any case, a baseline of respect is important.) i've had to drop a lot of people and a lot of ideas lately, with few exceptions who i'm still mad but they are Necessary for Life. i've just resolved to not talk about it, bc apparently you'll have to force me to concede once an argument has started.

the world can be weird and changeable, but i need to be certain, and my trust in my decisions and ideas has been gone for awhile. i don't feel concrete trusting my gut on what's best, but then the systems i built as failsafes are faulty, too, because they're from people who i trusted but, it turns out, never really knew--which again loops back to another interlocking layer of messy decision-making. the whole thing just calls my judgment into question, and the withered, cynical part is like... who cares? pick a thing and stick to it, even though there's going to be something wrong with it, bc there's something wrong with everything and you're losing the last of your marbles asking so many things. (this might also be why i've been trickling in anon questions to everyone for like, months now: i've had every single one of the sortings, but also... not really? it doesn't work right. i read and agree, then read again and disagree. i go "ok makes sense" then go "...does it really? how do you know?" even though who else would know!!! who else would be able to confirm but me!!! d u d e)

Ohhhh boy. I have an answer to suggest but it's not a happy one. Here's my guess:

Your Gryff primary is badly Stripped.

You patched it up with a Ravenclaw primary model... which then Fell.

You rebuilt the Ravenclaw model in a very Slytherin primary way... and then the Slytherin Petrified.

Now you've got remnants of all of them hanging around, they all feel Burned because they are, and you're having a hard time telling which is which.

Hard to blame you.

I do think you're a Gryff underneath because that's what you keep coming back to. The people you chose turning out to be not what you signed up for, you see that as a poor reflection on your judgment. You describe your Ravenclaw systems as a fail-safe, which suggests it's something you picked up.

+ idk if it'll help at all with the primary sorting but i'm a rapid bird secondary (planning! collecting!) at the base, with some kind of improvisational model that comes out specifically for interaction. i like to play a part around people. it's fun, helpful, and different for everyone: the part isn't a lie so much as it is my personality flipped to what i've figured out fits best for the situation--like wearing makeup for work or for going out. but the mask comes down for stuff that's rlly important to me (then i'm gonna fight u). or u kno. i realize that no one knows me personally bc vulnerability is scary. after that point the persona isn't cool anymore--in fact, it gets more tiring by the day, but i can give it up. is it possible to combine the desire for authenticity with a hesitance to let go of the polish for fear of being Compromised? it ties into the judgment thing in that i'm p insecure about figuring out how i can relax around but i wish i was able to just. pick a thing to be good at already dang!!!

Sounds like you have a lot of Bird and Snake to your secondary. I'm not well equipped from this to guess if you have some kind of burned Lion secondary hidden underneath all this, but it's interesting that Bird and Snake are also the models you built up around your primary. I'm not sure if that says something or not. Maybe they felt familiar somehow.

Hugs, hope you feel less shitty soon!

- Paint

[laceymorganwrites]

Magnitude pt. 4

Word Count: 1,710

Pairing: none

Warnings: swearing, break up

Taglist: @bakubatty

Dabi didn´t like it one bit that you always went back to Stain, even after all the fights you had, all the horrible things he said to you, the lack of affection and attention he gave you. And for what? For him to say he was sorry, not mean it and you being drawn in again.

It made him sick to his stomach, seeing you so weak. Dabi knew you weren´t weak, he knew you didn´t depend on Stain, you could very well live without him, and all the better. If only you would realize that.

If only you´d realize that he´d never treat you as shitty as Stain did, Dabi would treat you so much better, you were a goddamn gift to this world who didn´t deserve an asshole like Stain. Not like Dabi would do any better. Well, he wouldn´t actively make you feel shitty, but he wasn´t boyfriend material and that made him mad, because he wanted to be. At least he was self aware.

The second he realized he caught feelings for you, all he wanted to do was drown in his embarrassment. Seriously, you two were friends, he knew that, he felt so incredibly stupid for falling for you. Especially since he knew that you´d never feel the same for him,  it all felt like a sick joke.

But did that make him stop hanging out with you? Of course not. Dabi knew that it would be smarter to distance himself from you to get over you, and he was good at making people hate him, but he couldn´t bring himself to do that, not to you. It hurt so much to be around you, to listen to you rant and gush about Stain, to know he´d never be that guy. It hurt like hell having you close and not close enough, to comfort you and not being able to do it the way he wanted to, to hear that he was such a great friend…

And Dabi, masochistic as he was, craved this. He craved being around you, needed it to survive like he needed the air in his lungs. He wanted to be around you as much as possible, comfort you in every way and do everything for you, no matter if he was just a friend, he simply couldn´t bear to see you so sad.

Dabi shouldn´t have been as happy as he was once your relationship ended, but he was just a man.

A man that was woken up by your yelling once again, so he got out of bed to see what the commotion was all about this time.

The smile vanished from his face when he saw you crying, your eyes were red and swollen, your voice shaking and already raspy from screaming so much. Stain stood outside of your apartment, not even trying to defend himself, he just stood there, telling you to calm down.

“Calm down? I´m supposed to be calm when I find out that the man I love cheated on me with some whore?” you yelled, pointing inside of your apartment. At this point, Dabi felt extremely uncomfortable, he knew he shouldn´t be eavesdropping, but even if he was inside, he still would´ve heard it.

The woman in question left your apartment in her underwear after you shooed her out, trying to cover herself up. Dabi had to smirk at your cold expression towards the pair.

“Come on, it was just once” Stain pleaded, but you wouldn´t have it.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” you scoffed, turning to the woman in question.

“And why the fuck are you still here? Don´t you have other villains to blow? Get out of my fucking sight, the both of you” you told them.

“But, babe, my stuff...” Stain interrupted you, but you wouldn´t have it.

“Don´t you dare fucking ´babe´ me, asshole! And you have worse things to worry about than your fucking stuff right now, if I were you, I´d run as fast as I can, taking this fucking slut with me!” you balled your fists as tears fell from your eyes again. Dabi wanted to hug you right now and then help you beat those two up.

After a while the conversation died and Stain left alongside the woman he cheated on you with.

Once they were gone you heavily sighed, Dabi noticed how tired and worn out you looked.

“I´m sorry” he just said, not knowing any better words, hell, he never needed to comfort someone in his entire life, he didn´t know what to say or do in such a situation, after all he´s never been comforted once in his life. Well, before he met you, anyway.

“I should´ve seen it coming...he never even loved me in the first place, I feel so dumb right now” you sniffed, rubbing your hands over your face.

Dabi wanted to tell you that that wasn´t true, that you weren´t dumb and that it wasn´t your fault, but then he decided against it.

“If you need anything, you know...” he awkwardly mentioned, cursing himself in his mind, was that really the best he could come up with?

“I need to be alone right now… but thank you, I´ll text you, okay?” you couldn´t even force a smile right now, how could you when you just found out that your whole relationship was a joke?

You started wondering if there were people in your life who didn´t lie to you from the start.

Dabi nodded, not sure what he should do now, comforting you was off the table, you said you wanted to be alone. Maybe it was better this way, he wouldn´t know what to say and do anyway.

All he knew was that he didn´t want to see you so miserable ever again and that he´d do everything in his power to keep and make you happy, even as just a friend.

You went back into your apartment and just sat there, staring at your wall, not knowing what to feel or do. You couldn´t cry, you just felt empty, you couldn´t even laugh at the joke your life was slowly becoming.

As the days went by Dabi was getting more and more concerned about you, he wanted to know how you coped with everything, how you were, if you were eating and drinking enough, if you were getting enough sleep. But he didn´t want to be obnoxious.

One week later you had enough, enough of just laying around, sulking over your loss that wasn´t even that bad. Everywhere you looked you saw something of Stain´s and it made you angry, all you wanted to do was burn that shit down.

So you packed it all up into boxes and collected them outside.

Dabi just came back from buying groceries when he saw you, the determination in your eyes as you carried the heavy boxes made him smirk. It seemed like you were back to your old self.

“Hey, do you need help?” he asked, giving you a slight soft smile he didn´t even realize he wore.

“Oh hi!” you chirped when you saw him, waving at him with a huge smile that made his knees weak.

“I´d really appreciate help right now” you chuckled, wiping the sweat off your forehead.

“Give me a sec, I´ll put these away and then I´ll be right there” Dabi let you know, pointing at the groceries before vanishing in his apartment and emerging five minutes later.

“So, what´s the situation?” he smirked, making you sigh.

“I´m throwing out all of his shit, I can´t have that in my home anymore, it makes me sick. I just want to burn it all down” you told him angrily.

Dabi´s smirk widened.

“Now isn´t that a perfect coincidence? I think I´m the perfect guy for that” he said, normally he wasn´t that confident so you raised an eyebrow and smirked back at him in excitement.

You two carried the boxes to a huge open space where people piled all their trash up and then others would come to either steal or destroy it.

After you put down the boxes in a pile, Dabi used his quirk to light them on fire.

“Beautiful...” you whispered, completely taken aback by the blue of his flames, you never saw his quirk and you never saw something so magnificent. It felt magical, watching the blue wash over the boxes, cremating their contents. It didn´t feel just like relief, it was a revelation.

Dabi thought he imagined things when he heard you say that, nobody ever saw his flames that way.

He only ever wanted to curse them for hurting him, for reminding him of his father, reminding him of the failure he was.

“They´re the same color as your eyes” you noticed, smiling at him shyly as you caught yourself staring too much. They fit him so well, sure, he was handsome before, even though he´d think everyone who thought that was crazy, but seeing him in the light of his flames unraveled his true beauty, this atmosphere of confidence and healing destruction, it was like an epiphany, like seeing a shooting star, only that the shooting star was a beautiful angel.

Dabi´s heart stung, he never liked his quirk or eyes, they were just remnants of his broken family. Only more similarity to the man he hated. But somehow you saying it didn´t make him feel revolting, it made him blush.

“Sorry, I just… I´ve never seen something so pretty before” you apologized after catching yourself staring again.

Dabi chuckled darkly. “Then your life must´ve been even more ugly than mine and trust me, that´s hard to achieve” he told you, you were friends, he didn´t know how to feel about you complimenting him like that. Well, he knew very well how he felt but he also knew that you didn´t mean it in the way he hoped you did. Fuck, he should´ve taken his own advice and distanced himself from you to get over you because it couldn´t go on like it did now, he felt trapped, like he couldn´t let his true feelings out and always had to hold back. It drove him crazy, experiencing feelings like this for the first time.

[whatdidimissjm]

Jamilton Month Day 10 - Cooking

Alex wakes up because of a loud scream from somewhere in the flat, which is, admittedly, not how he though he would be woken up on their six month anniversary. He was very much looking forward to being woken up by kisses that would result in morning sex, so he lets out a sigh and gets up. He grabs a sweater from Thomas, that he had left lying on the ground, and pulls it over his head, heading to the living room to investigate what has happened. He finds Thomas in the kitchen, clutching his left hand, blood pouring through his fingers. He looks pale and a bit panicked and Alex just stares at him in shock for a moment, before he rushes over and guides Thomas to sit down.

“What happened?”, he asks frantically.

He grabs a towel from the counter under the kitchen sink and softly pulls Thomas´ hand away, replacing it with the towel and pressing down on. Thomas lets out a quiet hiss and lets his head fall back against the wall.

“I wanted to make you breakfast.”, Thomas says through gritted teeth, chuckling quietly.

Alex looks around in the kitchen and finds and a bloody knife on the ground, that he hadn´t noticed before, as well as some cut tomatoes on the counter. He turns back to Thomas, shaking his head.

“How did you manage that?”, Alex asks, still with a slightly panicked edge in his voice.

Thomas shrugs, almost instantly wincing at the movement.

“Happy anniversary, babe.”

Alex sighs and cups Thomas´ face, softly stroking his cheek.

“You are the worst. How bad is the cut?”

Thomas shrugs again.

“I didn´t get a good look at it. But it felt bad.”, he answers, his voice clearly showing his pain. “I just really don´t like blood.”

Alex nods.

“Okay, let me see.”

He gently unwraps the towel from Thomas´ hand. It is almost soaked through already, and instantly blood seeps out of the cut again. Thomas takes in a sharp breath, and Alex looks up at him and sees Thomas pressing his eyes close, while his face loses the last bit of colour.

“Hey, it´s not that bad. Just a little cut.”, Alex lies, applying pressure once more to his boyfriend´s hand.

Thomas lets out a small whimper, a single tear running down his cheek.

“I feel dizzy.”, Thomas mumbles, and Alex softly shushes him.

“It´ll be okay.”, Alex gives back, and presses a kiss to Thomas´ head, before getting up. “I´ll quickly get some bandages, where do you keep them?”

“Bathroom.”, Thomas answers, looking up at Alex for a moment, before he closes his eyes again.

“I´ll be back in a second.”, Alex promises.

It takes him a moment to search all drawers in the bathroom, but then he finally finds the first aid kit. He hurries back to Thomas, dropping to his knees in front of him.

“I found it!”, Alex says, and Thomas makes an affirming noise. “I´ll quickly put a bandage around it and then we´ll drive to the hospital okay?”

At that Thomas´ eyes snap open, and he gives Alex a panicked look.

“You said it´s not that bad!”

“It´s not. It´s just… not good either.”

Thomas groans, but lets Alex wrap the bandage around his hand. Once it´s secured, he helps Thomas up and to the couch.

“I´ll just quickly put some clothes on, I´ll be back before you know I´m gone.”

Thomas nods, but catches Alex´ arm with his good hand, before he can go.

“Sorry, that I destroyed our anniversary.”, he says quietly. “I know how important this was for you.”

Alex can feel his heart breaking a bit at that, and comes back to the couch, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Thomas´ lips.

“I love you. Don´t worry about it.”

Thomas nods reluctantly and releases Alexander´s arm, who hurries to the bedroom and puts some jeans on. He decides to stay in Thomas´ sweater, which brings him a strange kind of comfort.

“This is the best gift you could make me.”, Alex jokes, once he is in the living room again, showing Thomas the keys to his car. “I´ve always wanted to drive your car.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, and Alex notes with some relief that he seems to be less pale, now that he doesn´t have to see the blood again. He still helps him up and guides him down to the garage, where Thomas´ car is parked.

“I´m sure I could still drive. It´d be far worse if you crash this car.”, Thomas complains as he gets into the car.

“I knew I never should have to you about that one time I did that when I was fifteen.”

Thomas just chuckles, which dissolves some of the anxiety that has been building inside of Alex since he found Thomas. The drive is pretty short and Thomas follows Alex into the hospital waiting room and waits there, while Alex gives his name to the nurse at the register. Alex comes back to Thomas a few minutes later with a coffee in his hand, and sits down next to him, resting his head against his shoulder for a moment.

“You can be lucky there aren´t that many people here, the coffee tastes awful.”

Thomas lets out a chuckle, before he hides his face in his boyfriend´s hair.

“I´m so sorry about all of that.”, he mumbles. “I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

“I know, baby. It´s okay. It´s not your fault.”

They stay like that until Thomas gets called into a treatment room. He stands up and hesitates a moment, looking down at Alex.

“You want me to come with you?”, he asks, and Thomas nods.

“I really don´t like blood or needles or doctors.”, he says quietly, and Alex nods.

“Lead the way.”

Thomas already clutches Alex´ hand on the way to the treatment room, and Alex would be lying if he said he didn´t think about mocking him for it, a remnant from their days as enemies, but his worried boyfriend role wins. The doctor has him sit down, while Alex remains standing beside him. As soon as the doctor starts unwrapping the bandage, Thomas hides his face in Alexander´s chest, who holds him close, softly stroking his hair. The doctor gives Alex a sympathetic smile and then concentrates on treating Thomas´ wound. She quickly cleans it, before stitching it together and putting another bandage on. She explains how they should look after the injury, before she sends them on their way home.

“I´m still sorry about our anniversary.”, Thomas says, once they are out of the hospital.

Alex gives him a cheeky grin and wraps his arms around Thomas´ neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

“Well, that just means that you have to try extra hard next time.”

Thomas laughs softly, kissing Alex once more.

“I will. I promise I will.”