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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago

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HASO, “Milkshake.”

You guys seem to be enjoying it, so here is some more fluff with Eris .

Hope you enjoy!

Eris sat on the couch in the living room; the TV was on, but she wasn’t really paying attention as her eyes kept drifting towards the front window which looked out on the front lawn and the street beyond that. Jim was sitting across the room for her and Martha was working on another clothing pattern for Eris. She had really latched onto the idea of making clothing that was comfortable for her, which Eris appreciated immensely though she wasn’t sure if she'd be confident in wearing them.

People would think she was weird.

She glanced out the window again, hoping to see a car pull up.

He said he would be here today sometime in the afternoon. She knew it was only 11, but she desperately wanted to see him again despite her nerves and her continual feeling of isolation. Why did she care about this man so much? Yes he had saved her life, yes he had provided half of her DNA, but no, he hadn’t chosen to have her, no she hadn’t grow up the normal way with him as a father figure, and no he still wasn’t really in her life.

He was a busy man.

He was important.

And what was she to get in the way of that?

Nothing, that was the answer. He was big, important and successful, and she was a violation of his privacy.

These thoughts rolled around in her head as she sat on that couch. She knew the vast majority of them were irrational, made by her own mind to make herself feel inadequate, but she just couldn’t push the thoughts away. She wondered when she had turned into this person, someone who wondered about their adequacy and worried about their appearance. Once upon a time she remembered being powerful and terrifying to the people who had wronged her and her little family.

She remembered being confident in what she was doing.

Perhaps it was the loss of her goals and purpose that had driven her to this.

Once the others started getting adopted and brought into new families her work had grown less and less, and she became obsolete and lost in a universe that was vast and unknowable. The others were being taken care of, but no one had returned for her.

No one had seemed to consider that she was just like the others.

She had been created against her will and had never been given time to grow up.

With all the responsibility of other people’s thoughts in her head.

What was she doing?

It was only then that a sudden thought from Jim jogged her from her spiraling self doubt. With his human hearing, he could make out a car pulling into the driveway. She quickly got to her feet and turned to look at the window as the car stopped and the door opened.

Her heart jumped in her chest as Adam stepped out into the early morning sun. He was a little different than she remembered. He stood straighter and held his head higher. He still wore the eye patch she remembered and still had the same messy hair, but there was something about him that changed in the months since she had last seen him.

Behind him, a large blue shape exited the vehicle as well and stepped onto the pavement.

It was him, Sunny, the little doctor named krill, and Adam’s dog.

The dog’s mind was very very strange, driven by impulses and instincts as she snuffled around in the grass, but when she turned back to look at Adam, there was such an intense feeling of love and admiration, Eris had to pull away.

Adam rubbed the dog’s ears and walked up towards the house as the other two followed behind.

Martha got up to grab the door and Jim turned in his seat.

The door opened, and the group of them stepped inside, waffles, the dog, running in to greet Jim, who she had an unusual affinity for.

Martha hugged Adam tight, “So good to see you.” She pulled back hands to his arms, patting them with a frown on her face, “You’ve been working out.”

He smiled slightly, “Thank the Neo-Spartans for that.”

He reached over and shook his father’s hand, as his arms were busy with the pile of dog that had scooted her way halfway onto his lap, “Looking good.”

He nodded to Sunny who stood behind Adam, “I heard about your Sainthood. Congratulations. That’s a big accomplishment.”

Eris felt the pride radiating from Sunny as she lifted her head into the air, “Thank you Jim.”

Martha nodded, “You’ve come along way since we first met.” She gave sunny a hug too

Martha’s thoughts, once cold towards Sunny had warmed up over the past year. A small part of her even began to see Sunny as another daughter, thought that was the fact about Martha Eris had come to notice. She tended to adopt any little lonely thing she happened to meet; even the little doctor who walked in last.

She smiled, “Dr. Krill I see you haven’t died of complications relating to stress yet.”

The Vrul’s antenna twitched a little and he hummed his amusement, “Not for all of your son’s trying.” Despite how calm the little creature seemed, Eris could see in his head as a myriad of emotions flew through him. He thought that this place was a complete death trap, and had to constantly remind himself that humans were more durable than they looked.

In a way she thought it was kind of cute that he would worry about his companions so much.

Then Adam’s eyes turned to her.

She tried not to listen in on his thoughts, really tried. She didn’t like to pry into people’s minds. A lot of people didn’t like that when they knew what she could do, but she couldn’t help as the flood of strange emotions came pouring from the man’s head. He was a little different than other humans, he had a lot going on in there, and his thoughts and Emotions hit him hard and fast.

What did she expect.

Anger

Bitterness

Betrayal

annoyance

She was invading his privacy, injecting herself into a family she had never been invited into. WOuld he resent her for that?

But instead she felt.

Excitement.

and...

Nervousness?

What did he have to be nervous about.

The man walked over, and to her surprise picked her up into a crushing hug lifting her feet completely off the floor. She marveled for a moment at how strong he was, forgetting that humans tended to be on the strong side, second only to drev. He set her down smiling, and she felt a jenuine well of happiness wash over her tinted slightly with guilt, though he did a good job at keeping that to the back of his mind.

“You know what, I think you’ve gotten taller.”

She smiled, “Or you’ve gotten shorter.”

He laughed, “That is a complete possibility.” She continued to smile as he patted his chest, “I am getting old after all.” He looked over towards Jim, “Aging like my old man.”

“Shut up.” Jim harumphed, “I can still kick your ass.”

Martha frowned, “Are you implying that I am old Adam.”

He turned to smile at her, “Not a day past 21 mother.”

Martha crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, “Someone is looking for brownie points.”

“That depends, did you make brownies?”

She rolled her eyes, “No, I did not make brownies.”

He frowned.

“But I did muffins.”

“Score.” He said flopping down on the couch next to Eris as Krill floated to sit in the chair next to Jim.

The two of them watched the game, Jim seeming to enjoy Krill grimacing at every play and screaming at the TV for letting the humans knock each other out. He especially seemed to enjoy the medical descriptions of all the horrible issues they were probably having from all of that running into each other.

“So, how are you liking earth.” Adam asked, draping one of his large arms over her shoulders. Eris was struck with how nice the gesture felt and looked up at him, his head tilted to the side.

She smiled slightly, “I like it, it’s so warm and bright, and you have good food.”

“You can eat human food huh?”

She smiled and nodded, “We haven’t tried everything yet, but I really like strawberry ice cream.”

He snorted, “Lord she developed David’s poor taste in cold flavored delectables.”

For a moment she worried she had really upset him but was soon proven wrong when she could tell he was just teasing her, “So how are you a herbivore or a carnivore.”

Eris felt herself blanch a little bit. If her blood had been more visible through her marble Starborn skin, she might have gone pale.

“I uh…. I haven’t tried eating….. An animal yet.” She shivered at the thought. How could she? How could she eat something that used to be alive?

He smiled seeing the look on her face3, “Don’t worry, no one is going to force you too, though I dare say meat is good, your probably won’t regret trying it at least once.”

From across the room she could hear dr. Krill’s thoughts. He was more similar to a plant than he was to an animal, and the thought of consuming something that was living also baffled him, Though a part of him admired how “metal” It sounded. Eris frowned as she looked at the little doctor.

She had red the mind of Vrul before.

They had been strange to her, very alien in their processes, but Krill.

Well she might have thought he was just a very strange human had she not been able to see him.

The humanizing phenomenon perhaps>?

She couldn't be sure.

“So Eris, how about my offer from earlier, how would you like to go see where I grew up.”

She turned to look at Adam, who was staring at her expectantly.

She shuffled her feet awkwardly, “I would like that.”

“I will show you all the great and wonderful places I got beaten up. It will be a grand time.” She looked inside to see that he was just joking again. He did have some bad memories associated with the town, though the vast majority of them were good. She could see and feel the vibrant joy of fireworks and colorful parades as they passed through his memory. She could see cold calm lakes and feel wind blowing through the forest.

She nodded.

Martha turned to look at Sunny, “I’d like to keep you and Krill behind tomorrow if you don’t mind.”

Sunny looked up from here she was staring intently at the TV yelling over Jim’s shoulder at the reff who, to her, had made a very poor call.

“Of course, what do you need us for?”

“Alternative clothing designs for aliens. I think there is a large untapped market, and I want to see what I can do with it.”’

Adam grinned across the room at sunny, “Ah, she has finally roped you into being one of her guinea pigs. Enjoy.”

“Adam was such a good little guinea pig, and looked so good in a dress.”

Adam snorted and waved a hand, “I rocked the regency period as I have said before and so I shall say again.”

Eris leaned her head against Adam’s side as she listened to the ongoing banter between the group of people.

She tried not to pry but couldn’t help soak up the memories that popped to the surface of his head. Warm sunlight through an open window, the sound of a sprinkler, and the yell of children’s voices in the distance.

For a moment she became jealous of it before hiding that away in the back of her head.

THere was no use resenting others for something that wouldn’t change.

She would make the best of what she had.

That night, Eris slept in the same room as Sunny, whose memories were remarkably less pleasant than Adam’s, while Adam got his old room back. He would have shared with Krill, though Krill didn’t sleep, and spent most of the night watching late night television, which he found both strange and haunting in ways he wasn’t so sure was good.

She drifted in and out.

She wasn’[t entirely sure if her sleeping patterns were normal. She needed to recharge like the humans did, but seemed to go into a trance rather than into real sleeping. She dreamed, but hose dreams were more hallucinations which appeared about the room around her. Occasionally, she learned that she was able to share the dreams of others, and so took a ride along with Adam as he was joyfully able to fly without the need for a jet or a jetpack.

The feeling was so vivid she jolted awake when it was all over, sure she was going to find herself hurtling through the air.

That morning they had muffins, which melted in her mouth and made her insides growl. They weren’t as vocal as human innards, but apparently the smell of the muffins woke something deep within her.

Sunny was presented with a bowl of dandelions Jim had picked from the backyard that morning.

He was a little nervous that it might seem rude or degrading, but Sunny definitely seemed to appreciate the gesture. Krill didn’t need anything other than a glass of water, though Martha opened the curtain on the back sliding door to let in the early morning sun.

It fell across both her and krill, and her body hummed with its energy.

Adam stood and turned to look at his father when breakfast was over, “Can I borrow the car keys.”

Jim looked over at him skeptically, “You… drive… I don’t know about that.”

Adam frowned, “Oh come on, I fly spaceships for a living.”

Jim snorted, “yet, somehow every time you get in a vehicle that has wheels on it, you turn into my granny with a led foot.”

“Promise I will be safe.”

Eris smiled, his memories reminding him of all the jokes about being a bad driver .

Jim just rested his hand on his forehead and looked at Eris, “Lord knows I have never known a man with such poor command of motor vehicles. Ans you see if have seen this boy fly a jet in formation with seven other jets four feet apart and his hands are rock steady, but put him in a car, and he overcorrects into the ditch.”

Adam frowned, “That was my FIRST time driving.”

Jim finally relinquished the keys to him, “take the car, it’s an automatic. Everyone knows you shake her brains out if you tried to take the truck.”

Adam grumbled and took the keys, “Its the 41st century dad why do you even still need a stick shift.”

He crossed his arms, “If we are ever attacked by an EMP burst, that car is the only thing that is still going to be running, now get out of here.”

Eris followed Adam out the door, her little black cloak swishing behind her.. She hadn’t wanted to wear anything to obvious yet, so martha had grudgingly decided to at least make her something that looked better than her old ratty sweatshirt. It was a short cloak thing with a hood, and she thought it looked kind of nice, though she kept the hood low over her face. Adam slid into the driver’s seat of the car and Eris got into the other seat clipping on her seatbelt as he turned and began backing out of the driveway.

They jolted a bit as he moved into first and he glanced over at her, “Don’t tell my dad.”

She smiled somewhat as he inched forward and then began to pick up speed. The look of concentration on his face, and the white knuckles of his hands almost made her laugh. She could see him flying in his memories.

But for a man who loved to fly, he sure hated to drive.

“I’ll show you around the two first, than we can get lunch and after that we will find places to get out of the car and take a look around. Does that sound good?”

She nodded, though she wouldn’t have argued with him if he wanted to ride in circles all day. It was nice being here with him. Since they had last met his thoughts had calmed down significantly.

In the back of the car, his dog waffles sneezed and then rested her chin on the console.

Eris looked sideways at her sensing that the animal was looking for attention. She reached out a nervous hand and stroked the dog’s ears. In the back seat her tail thumped against the upholstery, and she grumbled happily.

“And out your right side of the window is the local high school or what I like to call the department of corrections against happiness. Eris winced, there was a lot of thought coming out of that building, and none of it very pleasant.

“Thank goodness I only went there for like a year.” he grinned, “I was flying planes after that.” He tapped his chin, “I can never decide if it counts as me dropping out of high school or graduating early, or transferring schools.” he shrugged and kept going, “That’s the middle school on the left, arguably just as bad as the high school but with younger people, and right next to that is the elementary school.”

“So many?”

He shrugged, “Yeah I have no idea why they do it this way, but that’s the way it has been done for a very long time.”

Eris had obviously never gone to school. She didn’t really need to.

She could know anything she wanted to know as long as someone else around her knew it. She could read and write and do math well enough. It was a little harder with muscle memory as that wasn’t something she could read. So, while she knew how to make most of the clothes that Martha could make, she might not be so good with a sewing machine.

“That’s the park. I used to like climbing up to the top of that tree in the middle, and down over there is the drive in movie theater. It’s one of the only ones left in this country, kind of more for nostalgia than anything..” he was able to lift his hand rom the steering wheel and point over at something else, “You have the grocery store over there and then that parking lot is where all the redneck kids used to go to get drunk.”

Eris leaned forward feeding off the memories those strange places gave him. He showed her little hidden spots down by the rivers where his brothers and him used to go swim. He showed her places of significance for the town, and even those locations where he had been sure he had seen an alien. The thought made her smile considering he had one in his car now.

Eventually he turned away and pulled into a small diner on the edge of the town.

He looked over at her, “Best place to eat in town, I know it doesn’t look like much, but trust me get yourself a milkshake at the very least.”

She nodded and nervously got out of the car with him, walking by his side as he made his way across the parking lot and to the little building. A bell dinged as they walked in, and she found only a few people sitting inside this time of day. The two of them seated themselves at a booth and Eris looked around,

It wasn’t like the many other buildings Eris had seen. It was old with a checkered floor pattern, and red upholstered bar stools. All of it looked new enough and clean enough, though something about it just felt old.

There was a jukebox playing music in the corner, something that had been obsolete for almost two thousand years. No wonder Adam and Martha liked this place. Martha with her doctorate degree in the information age, and Adam with his obsession over turn of the century rock music.

They were greeted just then by a pleasant faced portly little woman with grey hair.

Hermemory was a vibrant one.

She had worked here for a very long time, a sweet southern bell moved up from the south and married to a man in town. She had worked at this diner for over three decades and seen everything that passed through. Adam remembered her as someone who had been a fixture of the town, and his memories were pleasant.

When he had been alone and hurting, he had come here just to be in a safe environment, and this woman had had pity on him and made him a milkshake for free before sitting and talking with him when her shift would allow.

He smiled up at her and she lit up in surprise.

“Why if it isn’t sweet little Adam!” She looked him up and down, “Not so little anymore, lord it was only yesterday you and your brothers were in here causing trouble.”

He smiled, “And you angela, looking as beautiful as the day I met you.:

She snorted and waved a hand, “Oh stop, I’m old and wrinkly.”

“Old, you don’t look a day over twenty five.”

She laughed again, “Your flattery won’t work here dear. I know you have a penthouse on the moon.”

He snapped his fingers, “Pity.”

She turned her head to look at Eris, “And who is your friend.”

He looked across the table, “I uh, this is Eris.” Eris hunkered down in her hood a bit, “She’s my…. Daughter?”

Angela looked skeptical, “Boy i’ve never seen you look at a woman sideways, so forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

Adam smiled a bit ruefully, “Well it’s complicated.

Eris slowly raised her eyes towards the woman’s curiosity and as soon as Angela saw her face she put a hand over her heart and held up a hand, “Lord have mercy!” Eris braced herself for the disparaging thoughts, but instead the woman sat down next to her, “Why dear, why don’t you take off that hood and show us your pretty face.” There we go, and look at that long gorgeous black hair. You know them fancy modeling places in the city might just eat you up.”

She turned to look at Adam, “Aliens? Really?”

“She was grown from my DNA, but…..” He paused mulling something over before deciding to speak.

“But I WAS dating a different alien for a while.”

Angela did not seem surprised.

“For a while? Something went wrong?”

“I screwed it up.” he sighed, “Still trying to see if I can get back in her good graces, but who knows.”

Angela just smiled and shook her head, “You were never going to be normal, Adam, but not that that’s a bad thin.: She stood and looked down at Eris, “What can I get for you.”

Eris cleared her throat and in a small voice, “A milkshake””

Adam nodded up at her, “Strawberry, that’s her favorite.”

She nodded, “And your usual?”

“Yes please.”

She smiled at them and walked off with a pleasant wave. When she came back Eris learned he was right about their milkshakes. It was so good and filled her mouth with just enough flavor. He polished off a milkshake and a Hamburger, and Eris really had no idea where iit all went. He was a black hole when it came to food.

Angela gave him a hug on his way out, and even spared one for Eris before commenting on her hair again, which Eris would have blushed at if she could blush.

Afterwards he took her just a little out of town to the top of a tall hill. On this hill there was a tree and a tire swing with a picnic table. Clouds rolled lazily over the sun as he sat down in the grass and she sat next to him. She could hear dogs barking in the distance, and somewhere the elementary school was out for recess.

Adam closed his eyes and leaned back in the grass.

“Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my love for space that I forget just how much I love Earth.” He sighed and the two of them could smell freshly mowed grass and pine trees.

She lay back with him.

“I was thinking about maybe staying here with your parents for a while.”

“Your grandparents.” he corrected eyes still closed.

She felt her heart beat faster, “Yeah, if they’re ok with that.”

“I don’t see why not. Mom always liked having someone around to help her with her projects. She uses dad when she can and he suffers silently for her, but I think she'd enjoy your company.”

“You do?” Eris wondered

“Well I don’t see how she couldn't. I enjoy your company.”

She felt a thrill through her insides.

He turned to look at her, “I AM sorry I can’t be…. more. “ his words didn’t say as much as his thoughts could, and it were those that helped her understand what he really meant. He would offer to take her in any day of the week, but that would mean her being alone more often than not while he was away, and he didn’ want to do that to her.

He thought she deserved better.

She wouldn’t argue with him about that, for she understood his reasoning and sentiment and tended to agree.

Both of them knew that his parents were a pretty great idea.

She could be happy here

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celestialtitania · 4 years ago

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whatever it is (whatever it isn't)

A big thank you to my lovely betas @anabielvriskamars and @kellynicole515! Read it on AO3 or FFN.

Norman watches Emma play with Phil and Shery, a small smile growing on his face as he waits for his coffee to brew. He knew her memories were wiped away, but at the core she was still the same Emma he had always known.

The one always ready to make a ruckus with the kids. Naïve but determined. Strong but pure. He chuckles as the kids give her a big hug before rushing to get to school on time.

"Come on," he beckons Emma. "You need to eat, too." She gives him a sheepish grin as she sits next to him on the table, forgoing the coffee for some orange juice. He hands her a plate of toast, marmalade already applied just how she likes it and tells her to eat.

She wrinkles her nose, putting the plate back down on the table. "Um, thanks Norman. I don't really like the taste of marmalade though," she sighs. "But wasting food is even worse," she sighs at the toast again.

Ray rolls his eyes at her as he sets down his own plate of toast. "You hate marmalade that much?"

Emma nods emphatically, "It's bitter and feels leathery." She gingerly pokes at the toast, looking as though all of her energy had been sucked away.

Norman frowns at her words but Ray just hums. "You're alright with butter?" She blinks as he gestures towards his plate of toast. Emma's face brightens as she happily swaps the two plates and begins to eagerly eat the breakfast Ray had prepared.

Norman sits there feeling quite confused. Emma had always preferred marmalade over something as plain as butter. He's about to ask when it occurs to him. The products must taste different from the demon and human worlds; after all, they were prepared differently. Mystery solved, Norman basks in joy at having the chance to speak with Emma and Ray without an imminent threat out to get them. Each and every moment was precious now, regardless. Norman has been through too much to ever think otherwise.

After breakfast, they go with Emma to visit her Gramps, the old man who had found her and taken her in two years ago. As they walk through the town, Norman expects to see Emma jumping excitedly or wanting to frolic in the snow. She does neither and the only time she lets out her exuberant nature is when Gramps opens the door.

The old man is clearly delighted to see her, just as much as she is to see him. Another thing about Emma that will never change. She has a way of drawing people to her wherever she goes. He'd seen it countless times, just her words and compassion changing enemies into friends, back in the Demon World.

They talk while Norman and Ray quietly sit and listen. They appear to have several inside jokes but that's only to be expected after living alone together for two years. At the end of their visit, Emma gives the old man a big hug before he takes Norman and Ray aside to thank them.

"She was alone when I met her. I probably wouldn't have gotten through my grief without her. You boys take care of her now, you hear me?"

Norman practically glows as he assures the man that he would do his very best to keep her safe and happy. Beside him, Ray appears thoughtful before voicing his own thoughts.

"Emma likes to take care of herself and she's still figuring out what makes her happy, but we'll always be there for her when she needs us," he says seriously. Norman thought that was a simple answer, especially when they had firsthand knowledge of what made Emma happy.

But the old man looks rather pleased as he laughs out loud. "Well said," he claps both boys on the back before he leaves them with Emma. The trio decide to take a look around the market before heading back home. Emma marvels at the sights but doesn't seem at all eager to purchase things. He'd expected Emma to point out all the things, the other kids would love.

Norman supposes it would be hard to buy things for them when she doesn't fully know their tastes anymore. Not that he would let something like that stop him from making sure Emma was having a good time.

His eyes light up as he spots a plush toy stall. He has an idea which he thinks is absolutely brilliant and was sure to put a smile on Emma's face. He separates from Emma and Ray, brushing off their questions and promising to catch up with them in just a moment.

Puzzled, they agree heading over to one of the food stalls. Norman smiles as he wonders why the idea never struck him before. Even if she didn't remember wanting to, the desire had to come from somewhere.

He picks the best quality the shop has before paying and rushing out of the store. He taps Emma on the shoulder before holding the plush in front of his face. Slowly, he lowers it to see her surprised expression.

"For you," he hands the plush giraffe to her waiting expectantly to see her smile joyously. Emma does smile but it's a confused one. She thanks him as she stares at the giraffe.

"Are you trying to tell me that I'm short?" She asks him after a moment. Norman tilts his head and asks her to explain her thought process.

"You know," she waves the giraffe around. "You're much taller than I am. Is this your way of saying you feel like a giraffe next to me?" She's frowning at him but her eyes show her amusement.

He can't help it. He throws his head back and laughs because that did sound like the sort of thing he would do. Emma tries not to but she's snickering with him while Ray rolls his eyes in the background.

Once they've caught their breath, Norman shakes his head. "No, I mean, I know it isn't big enough to ride but it's still cute right?"

Emma looks at him blankly, so Norman expands on his point. "Uh, some of the younger kids were saying that they wanted to ride a giraffe one day so I thought maybe you would too?" It sounds weak, even to his own ears but Norman didn't want to make Emma feel subconscious about not remembering the past.

Emma hums in response. "Ahh, sorry Norman," she apologizes sincerely. "It's a nice gesture but I'm not too interested in riding a giraffe. They're kinda weird looking, don't you think?" She giggles but Norman is frozen.

"But it's a giraffe," he repeats helplessly. Emma looks over at Ray who simply sighs and walks over to Norman, who is still asking how Emma could possibly dislike giraffes. Ray tries to get Norman to stop talking but something in Emma's expression changes.

"Oh, I must have used to like giraffes, that's it right?" Ray winces as Norman is forced to nod, there was no way to lie to Emma's face. "But now I don't. That must hurt you."

Norman nods again, an uncomfortable feeling growing in his stomach. Emma has never looked at him like this before and it hurts.

Norman opens his mouth to try and speak but Emma keeps talking before he can get even a syllable out.

"I thought you said it was okay that I was different from who I used to be," Emma asks, the expression on her face is unreadable but Norman can hear the quiver in her voice.

Norman winces as he shakes his head. He's reaching out, trying to form a physical connection to Emma but she steps back, a small frown beginning to appear on her face. "Were you just lying or did you think there wouldn't be a difference to begin with?"

Norman flinches, the words he'd said to Emma at their reunion coming back to him. He'd known she wouldn't be the same naïve and reckless girl. He'd prepared himself for someone who was more cautious and quiet.

"It's the little things," comes spilling out, unintentionally but it's enough to give Emma pause. She raises an eyebrow, clearly expecting him to explain himself. Norman swallows hard as he tries to come up with a way to tell her how he felt without hurting her.

"He was in love with you," Ray says bluntly, making Norman gape in shock. Emma's jaw drops as she turns to stare at Norman with wide eyes. Norman closes his eyes, as the pit in his stomach grows larger while mentally cursing Ray. But he also knows there was no other way to explain how he was feeling.

"You're still Emma," he reassures her. "You carry love and kindness in spades, especially for your family. You're bright and optimistic and that's the Emma that I fell in love with. It really doesn't matter how much you've changed to me because at the core, you're still Emma. It's just...we used to be best friends. I knew Emma better than I know myself."

Here Norman pauses to take a breath and try to decipher Emma's reaction. She still looks surprised but he can't figure out what she's thinking. Instead, he presses on.

"For the longest time, the only thing I could rely on was my brain. I've always known the right path to take, I can trust my knowledge. But now...you're still Emma but it's like I hardly know you. I know why that is but I still have trouble accepting that, of all people, I don't know things like your favourite flower or something." Norman flails an arm to emphasize his feelings.

Emma is biting her lip, seemingly deep in thought while a glance at Ray shows him studying the ground with intense fascination.

"It's not that I don't want to learn more about the new you, because I do! It's just become a habit to think I know what Emma loves and when I'm proven wrong, it's like the world has flipped on its head for me."

Norman bows his head, waiting for either Ray or Emma to speak now that his confession is over. They both remain silent. Finally, he looks up in exasperation.

Emma is staring up at the sky, looking completely lost while Ray is trying his hardest not to laugh.

"Guys?" Norman asks hesitantly and the flood gates open. Emma is sighing at him loudly while Ray laughs so hard he can't breathe.

"Stupid Norman," Ray chortles while Emma nods her head in agreement. While Norman gives them an affronted look, Emma shakes her head.

"Norman, you've already done the hard part," she finally says to him.

"What," Norman asks blankly; the conversation was going in a direction he didn't expect and he was left completely lost.

"As far as you're concerned, it's just confusing that the little things have changed right? Not that you wish the other Emma was here instead?"

Norman's eyes widen because that was a question which he has never even considered. He anxiously thrums his fingers on his leg, to ground himself while trying his best to answer honestly. "I won't lie and say that I don't miss the Emma I grew up with, but I appreciate her sacrifice. I meant it when I said that the best thing was for me to know you were happy and safe. That's all I've ever wanted for Emma."

"The little things that give you so much trouble? They would've been different, regardless. People's tastes change y'know and you've been separated from Emma for four years now," Ray rolls his eyes at Norman. Norman winces because those four years of separation weren't something he liked to think about.

"Maybe it's the way you're going about it? You want to think of me as the same but different at the same time," Emma muses, putting a finger on her chin as she turns to Ray.

"Huh?" Norman isn't even going to pretend he has any idea where this conversation is going.

Ray nods, "Norman is kind of stupid like that, he won't get it any other way."

Emma grins before sticking her hand out towards him. Norman stares at it, utterly baffled.

"Hi, I'm Emma!" Her eyes flick meaningfully towards her outstretched hand as she smiles beatifically at him.

"I know who you are?" Norman questions, eyes darting between Emma and Ray. Ray gives him a look, practically ordering him to play along so Norman does, quickly shaking Emma's hand and introducing himself.

"Get to know me from scratch," Emma tells him, leaving no room for argument. "Then those little things won't come as a surprise." She looks down, letting out a small laugh. "We'll kind of be on the same playing field that way."

That sends a shock through his system. Emma was working so hard to get to know all of them again, that included the little things which were second nature for those who had grown up together. She was struggling just as much as he was.

Norman smiles. "It's nice to meet you!" He chirps excitedly, warmth spreading through him at Emma's grateful look. Norman slings his arms around his two best friends. "I love you both," he tells them firmly. "Emma is new but I have no idea what I'd be doing without you, Ray."

Emma let out a startled laugh as Ray tries to shove Norman away while he hangs on stubbornly. Soon enough all three of them are laughing like there was no tomorrow.

In between laughs, they catch each other's eyes and Norman is content with the knowledge that things will be better from here on out.

@tpnfanworks

#the promised neverland #yakusoku no neverland #tpn #fullscore trio #emma #norman #ray #noremma #rayemma #norayemma #post canon #canon compliant #hurt/comfort #giraffes

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swiftlymoniquesblog · 4 years ago

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I Just Want My Heart Back: Sam Winchester x Reader

A/N: Hello friends! Well, I thought it was time to update my Supernatural masterlist since I’ve been writing so much for Marvel and Harry Potter. It’s been way too long since I wrote something that wasn’t holiday related for Supernatural and after talking to a very good friend, I came up with this!

BIG shoutout to @calaofnoldor because she gave some wonderful little nudges and suggestions for this and I’m quite proud of how quickly I put this together. The title for this was her idea, as well as this GIF so thank you lovely for all your help!

Warnings: Angst, swearing, breakup, jealous!Sam, mentions of sex, boobs (yep that’s a warning lol) and implied sex but nothing too filthy cause y’all know that’s not how I roll (and I want y’all to use your imaginations too ;))

Word Count: 4,383

Supernatural Masterlist| Masterlist of all Masterlists

Feedback is greatly appreciated! Tag lists requests are OPEN as well as my inbox!

*Italics are flashbacks and POV*

-Monique

“I don’t think this is working out,” Sam says, coming to you one day after a hunt gone bad.

“What isn’t working out?” You ask, looking up to the taller Winchester.

“Us, you and me. You living and working with us. All of it.” He says, refusing to make eye contact.

“What? What do you mean it’s not working out? What’s the problem? I’ve been living with you and Dean for the last two years! Why is there suddenly an issue?” You question.

“Well lately, (Y/N) you’ve been really reckless on these hunts we’ve been going on,” he answers, still not looking at you.

“What? Reckless? I’m a hunter, Sam. I take chances just like you and Dean do and they don’t always go as planned, like today.”

“Exactly, that was really stupid of you to go in that warehouse by yourself,” he says as you’re taken back to the events of the day.

“Alright, Sam, you and I will scout out the warehouse, see if we come across any vics. (Y/N) I need you to be on the lookout and alert us if someone’s coming,” Dean said, with Sam next to him, guns aimed and ready to fire. But they looked to you and you were nowhere to be found.

“(Y/N)?” Dean whisper yells for you.

“Dean!” Sam says, panic filling his voice. The youngest brother pointed in the direction of where he was looking straight ahead, seeing you running inside the warehouse.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean yells as he and Sam run after you.

You were too far ahead to hear them running after you until it was too late. An entire pack of vampires had rushed you, trying desperately to sink their teeth into you. A good dozen or more were surrounding you and you began swinging, taking your knife to slice off the heads of the monsters as they grew too close. Screams of the victims could be heard as you fought hard, soon realizing you went alone. Just as one vamp lost its head, another was right behind you and sank its teeth into your shoulder. You scream out in agony; the venom was quickly spreading through your body.

“(Y/N)!” Sam yells to you, watching as you fall to the ground; the pain bringing you to your knees.

“Sam, we can’t stop, there are too many vamps out here!”

“She’s going to turn into one of them if we don’t help her, Dean!”

“Cas! If you can hear us, get your feathery ass down here and save (Y/N)!” Dean yells and then, a fluttering of wings came down in front of you.

“Hello (Y/N), let me take a look at you,” Cas says, kneeling beside you and carefully moving your collar of your shirt away from where you were a bit. You hiss out in pain as the wound was now exposed to the air around you.

“Alright (Y/N) luckily I was able to get here just in time before it got too bad so I can heal you enough now to transport you back to the Bunker but I’ll have to extract the venom from you later. okay?” Cas explained.

“Just, do it!” You cry and a blinding light flashed around you, causing you to lose your sight for just a moment but the sound of vamps being killed was the last thing you heard.

“Alright, I admit, that wasn’t the best decision I could’ve come up with but I’m okay!”

“Yeah, but today wasn’t the first time you got hurt really bad on a hunt!” Sam yelled, suddenly making himself seem even bigger than he already was.

“What are you saying, Sam? You want me to leave?”

“Yes. I can’t keep worrying about you getting hurt because you’re too damn stubborn to listen to a damn thing Dean or I tell you! We’re more experienced hunters, (Y/N), we know what’s safe and what’s not. We can’t that burden over our heads,” He says.

You felt the tears brimming to the surface of your eyes but with the words he just spoke, you couldn’t let him see you upset.

“Alright, um, I’ll go pack my things and be out of your way.” You say, brushing past your now ex-boyfriend, but making sure to hit him hard as you did so.

When you reached your room, a photo of you and Sam sat on the end-table beside your bed, the smiling faces just mocking you. Grabbing the frame, you throw it across the room and scream at the broken glass now scattered across the floor.

“Fuck you, Sam Winchester!” You yell, hoping to anyone that he was listening.

You and Sam had always been close and just recently started dating. Sure, it was challenging but you thought since you were in the business too, it would be easier to work out any differences you may face; you were clearly mistaken. Taking a duffel bag from out of your closet, you throw all your clothes and toiletries inside, packing up furiously. When you were sure you had everything, you find a scratch piece of paper and write up a note for Dean. You and he were close too; he was like your older brother.

Dean,

I am so sorry to be writing you this letter but I’ve been informed that I should not be living or hunting with you and Sam anymore. Apparently, I am a burden to you guys and you don’t want to have to worry about my well-being on every case. I guess I am just like you though; stubborn as a mule. I thought that was a good thing but according to Sam, it’s not. I thought he and I could work through anything because I became a hunter too, but I was wrong about that, too.

I’m not sure where he and I went wrong, but today was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I love him, Dean, I really do, but I guess he doesn’t love me enough to keep fighting for a relationship with me. I have a friend who’s a hunter who offered a place for me to stay and is willing to teach me new skills to improve myself as a hunter and who knows, maybe by then, Sam will actually want me around as a partner.

I’m going to miss eating greasy burgers and staying in cheap motels and watching Western’s with you but this is for the best. I can’t be around someone who doesn’t want me around and Sam has made that very clear that he doesn’t care about me anymore.

Here’s my address of where I’ll be staying at for a while; just don’t tell Sam where I’m at. I need to grieve the loss of one of the best things that have ever happened to me. I wish him well though, please tell him that.

I hope to stay in touch with you; you’ve always been like a big brother to me. I love you Dean and I’ll call you when I get to my new home.

Love, (Y/N)

Folding up the paper, you grab your bag and your keys for your car. Walking past Dean’s room, you slide the letter under his door and knock on it, before rushing towards the stairs out when you heard Sam calling for Dean.

“What’s up, Sammy?” Dean asks when he opens his door, noticing the note in front of him.

“I think I found a case for us to work. What’s that?” Sam said, looking at the paper in his brothers’ hand. Just then, the sound of a vehicle starting and driving away interrupted them.

“Who’s leaving?” Dean asked, walking out to the War Room; Sam remaining silent. “What?”

Sam remained quiet for a while until Dean starting growing angry.

“(Y/N) left,” Sam finally said.

“What? What do you mean, (Y/N) left?” Dean asked, still furious with his little brother.

“Where did she go, Sam?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said, avoiding the conversation he just had with (Y/N).

Just then, Dean remembered the letter that was on his bedroom floor. He reached for it from his back pocket and opened it.

Sam watched as Dean’s eyes bounced back and forth across the page; he was starting to feel guilty.

“You told her to leave?” Dean asked, in a calm voice but Sam didn’t peak.

“Answer me, Sammy! Did you tell (Y/N) to leave?!” Dean’s voice escalated.

“Yes,” Sam simply answered.

“Great, you know she’s gone, right? She said we see her as a burden? Did-did you tell her that?!”

“Yes,”

“Oh my God, Sam! That’s just great! You know she was the best thing that ever happened to you and you just push her away like that? Why?”

“She was always getting hurt, Dean? What was I supposed to do? Tell her she was doing a good job at constantly getting hurt?” Sam yelled back to his brother.

“Yes! She was stubborn like we are but she was willing to become a hunter just so she could be with you, Sammy! She loved your dumb ass and what, because she got hurt all the time, you stopped loving her?”

“No, I-I never said I don’t love her anymore,”

“Well, she thinks you don’t love her! And you know what else she said in this letter? She said she needs time to grieve the best thing that ever happened to her!”

Sam was quiet for a minute, letting his brothers’ words sink in. The girl he was in love with, was gone forever, all because he hated how stubborn she was and how she never listened. She was just like him and that bothered him. He didn’t want her to be like him, so broken and hurt, but she was also good. She was beautiful and had a positive outlook on life; always bringing happiness to the brothers when they were down. She was young and full of life, always caring about everyone else before herself and maybe that was why she always got hurt. But she loved Sam and he couldn’t understand why, but he felt lucky to have her. Maybe he was overreacting; he got hurt a lot too. It was part of the job to get hurt saving people’s lives and not everyone could do it but (Y/N)? She was good at it because she cared for people so much, way more than he or Dean even could.

“Did she say where she was going?” Sam suddenly asks, growing worried about where she had gone.

“She did, but she doesn’t want you to know. You really hurt her, Sam,” Dean said.

“I know, I fucked up bad. I thought if she wasn’t here anymore, that she couldn’t get hurt, and then I wouldn’t have to worry about her so much. At least, if she went away, she would be safe, but I don’t even know that to be true,” Sam confesses.

“Your plan just completely backfired on you,”

“Yeah, I made things worse, and for what?”

“Because I thought this was the best way to protect her and when she got hurt, Dean, she was almost always near death. I-I couldn’t stand seeing her like that because I knew there was a better way but she always had to go down the harder and more painful path.”

“Yeah, and you know why she did that?” Dean asked.

“Why?”

“Because she was a Winchester. She was stubborn and hard-headed but she is a fighter and she always believed in the best in people. And what did you do? You tried to penalize her for it,” Dean said.

“I know, I really fucked up here. I gotta try and find her, Dean. Tell her I was wrong,” Sam said, going to grab keys for one of the vehicles the brothers owned.

“Dude, she doesn’t want to see you,” Dean reminded him of the letter.

“Well, she didn’t leave that long ago. She couldn’t have gotten too far; I have to try,” Sam argued back.

“Want me to go with you?” Dean asked but Sam shook his head.

“I need you to stay here just in case she comes back home,” Sam says before realizing the Bunker wasn’t (Y/N)’s home anymore. “Just stay here.”

Sam grabbed a jacket and his phone before rushing off to the garage and jumping in behind the wheel of a car. Just before he sped away, Dean came out to the garage with a set of keys in his hands.

“Here,” he said, tossing the keys to Sam.

“Baby? You’re letting me take her?” Sam questioned, surprised that his brother trusted him with his most prized possession.

“Yeah, she’s pretty reliable and will get you where you need to go. Plus, (Y/N) loves her. If you do end up catching up with her, the least you can do is show up in a good-looking car,” Dean smirked as Sam threw the other keys back to him.

Throwing the car into drive, Sam sped out of the garage, desperate to find (Y/N) and hoping he wasn’t too far behind her. He wanted to apologize to her, tell her he still loved her, and was only speaking out of frustration. Of course, he wanted her to stay and keep hunting with him and Dean but he worried about her a lot, and seeing her hurt all the time, wasn’t good for anyone. Maybe he was being selfish but he thought he was doing the right thing for everyone when he really was hurting the one person who meant the most to him. He pushed the gas pedal down as hard as he could, not caring about the speed limits, and looking around to see if her vehicle had stopped anywhere, as his mind kept wandering off to the letter she left for Dean. Why didn’t she leave one for him? Did he hurt her that bad?

Sam’s POV

Damnit, I shouldn’t have told her to go and now, I can’t find her. What if I do find her and she doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore? She easily could tell me to go to hell; I mean I did that already but it would be worse hearing it from her. Would she ever let me explain where I was coming from? If she didn’t, I don’t think I would blame her; I wouldn’t let me explain. I hadn’t realized how long I had been driving for but it was starting to get dark. My speed had decreased drastically as I figured I should pull over and rest for the night. It’d be no good for me driving at night when I was this upset over the whole situation. Maybe this still made me seem selfish but I didn’t want to end up dead before I got to her. Seeing a small bar off the side of the road, I go to pull into the parking lot, searching for (Y/N)’s car just in case she had done the same as me.

Getting out of the car, I lock Baby up and head inside, anxious to see if (Y/N) was there. Looking around the room, I’m met with a bunch of unfamiliar faces. I walk to the bar and order a shot of whiskey. The liquid burned as it went down my throat and temporarily made me feel better but that feeling went away quickly. Just as I was about to order my next shot, I look over out of the corner of my right eye and see that familiar face; the one who had been driving me insane.

She was sitting at a booth with some guy who couldn’t keep his hands off of her but she didn’t seem to mind. Was she crazy?! This guy is disgusting! How could she be okay with him touching her? I’m the only one who is allowed to touch her. Wait, no, I can’t think like that; I’m the one who broke up with her. But did she have to be looking at him with those big (y/e/c) eyes? And that perfect smile? She used to look at me like that all the time and now? My last memory of her was the look of pure sadness and somber; like I just kicked a puppy or something. No, I just broke her heart. Alright, I hate myself but I need to do something about it instead of just sitting here and watching her fall all over some random guy. I may regret this later but I figure I should go with it and see what happens.

“Hey baby, there you are. I was starting to worry about you,” I say, pulling a chair over to sit on the opposite side of where her “date” was. She looked over at me with a look of disgust but my jealous side told me I was doing the right thing.

“Go away, I don’t want to talk to you,” she says, turning back to the other guy, so I did the next best thing I thought to do. I stand up and wrap an arm around her waist, hoisting her over my shoulder. She screamed and started cussing me out, causing everyone to look at us.

“Just our honeymoon is all, she’s a bit nervous,” I lied, looking at the bartender who just nodded his head and smirked; dirty old man. Walking back out to Baby, (Y/N) hits my back several times, telling me I must’ve lost my mind to be treating her like this and she is going to fucking scream when I finally let her down.

“(Y/N) please, just let me explain,” I say, finally setting her down but still holding onto her arm.

“Why should I Sam? You made it very clear that we were over and that I was a burden to you; why can’t you just let me go? I just want my heart back because you destroyed it,” She says trying to wiggle free from my grasp.

“I can’t let you go,” I say, letting her out of my hold.

“You just did a few hours ago!” She says, growing frustrated with me.

“I didn’t mean anything I said back then; I’m so sorry,” I try to reason with her but I can tell she’s not buying it.

“Why even say it then?” She scoffs, rolling her eyes at me.

“I was talking out of my frustration. I hate seeing get hurt; you’ve almost died more than once. I hate that you’re just as much a Winchester as Dean and I are; just as stubborn. But you’re a damn good hunter and we’ve gotten better at this job because of you. I can’t imagine not having you hunt with us anymore; you’re too damn important to me now. I want you to stay; I need you to stay.”

She was quiet for a minute then spoke up, “you told me I was a burden to you, Sam. Do you know how that made me feel? You made me think you didn’t love me anymore. So when you told me to leave, I couldn’t fathom the words that were coming from your mouth. I sat in my car about a mile outside the Bunker and balled my eyes out. Do you not realize what you mean to me? I love you, Sam, but you just tossed me aside like I was nothing.”

“That wasn’t my intention, (Y/N)! I-I thought I was protecting you!” I yell.

“Okay you really don’t want to be yelling at me right now when you’re already on thin ice here, Winchester,” she warns and I apologize.

“I promise, that wasn’t what I meant to do. I thought I was protecting you by telling you, you were a burden on us. I knew that if I asked you not to hunt with us for a while, you’d just argue with me about why that’s not fair, so I figured if I told you that it was becoming too difficult for us to always care for you, that you would sit back yourself. And then it spiraled out of control from there and I kept up with the act that I didn’t care about you because I had to make you believe that you weren’t safe hunting. I never told you I didn’t love you; I can’t believe you thought that. I love you more than I’ve loved anyone else and I know that’s a lot to hear because we’ve only really been dating for a short time but we started off as friends first and I knew from that very first day you came to us for help on a case, that I loved you. And then when you told me you had feelings for me too, I was so happy because finally, here’s this amazing woman who understands the business because she does it herself and I love her. But I talked to Dean and he made me realize I probably made the biggest mistake of my life and I am so, so sorry. I only said everything I did because I cared too damn much about your well-being. And I know, it’s dumb and doesn’t make any sense but it’s the truth. I hope you can forgive me and we can go back to just being us. And I am so sorry you cried; I hate when you’re sad. But if you’ll let me, I want to make it up to you.”

There was silence was settled between us for an agonizing amount of time before she did something I wasn’t expecting. She quickly closed the space between us and grabbed the back of my head to pull me into a kiss. Instantly, I grab onto her hips, holding her into place, while my lips let her know how much I truly missed her. I was growing tired of leaning over so I lifted her to my level, easily able to intensify the kiss. She held onto the back of my shirt like she was afraid she was dreaming and I would disappear at any minute, but I tried to convince her that I wasn’t going anywhere; I was too far invested in this. I broke the kiss for a minute, looking at the beautiful girl in my arms.

“I have an idea,” I said, setting her down and unlocking the car. She watches me closely as I unlock the door she was standing closest to and open the door to her.

“Get in,” I say. She does but doesn't understand what I was implying until I grabbed the bottom hemline of my shirt and lifted it over my head. When she realized what my idea was, she followed my lead, lifting her shirt over her head and threw it on the floor of the car. I duck down and make my way inside to the back seat, hovering over her as she lays across the seat. She looked up at me, never breaking eye contact until I kissed her again. My hands traveled down her body, and she reacted to my touch, back arching into me. She pulled away to remove her bra before attaching her lips to mine again. As more and more articles of clothing were being removed, she broke the silence for a minute.

“You know, Dean is going to kill us when he finds out we had sex back here.”

I laugh, knowing she was telling the truth and thinking what my brother’s reaction was going to be.

“Well, he doesn’t have to know; we’ll get her cleaned before we go back to the Bunker,” I say, trying not to make a big deal out of what we had planned.

“Oh, I don’t know, plus, how many times has he had sex back here?” She asked and I paused to think about it.

“You know, you’re probably right. I’m sure it’s been numerous times! Wanna just go check into that motel over there?” I suggest, throwing my head to the side to motion to the motel.

“I mean, that’s tempting but equally as disgusting. You know how questionable those rooms are! If we’re going to have sex, I want it to be special!” She kept her stance on the topic.

I sigh but realize she was right. I didn’t want to just sleep with her in the backseat of a car or at a dingy motel. As much as I was really wanting to go through with this, I figured we would have a much better time back at the Bunker.

“Alright, how about we just make out like some crazy teenagers for now and save the rest for later,” I suggested, wiggling my eyebrows at her. She laughs for a moment before reaching down to pick her bra back up but I stopped her.

“Why don’t you just leave that off for now,” I say, eyes trailing down to ger exposed chest before a devilish grin made its way across my face. Her cheeks redden but she throws the bra back and brings me back for another kiss, my hands traveling their way over each breast, savoring the way her skin felt against mine. I missed this feeling; having her with me and exploring every part of each other. And not just for a day or just to ‘scratch an itch,’ but because we loved one another and I needed her to know just how vital she was to my life. Without her, I cannot go on; I know this from experience so I knew I needed to do whatever it took to make her realize that I loved her.

And after a while and we began our journey home, my hand in hers as she sang along to the cassette tapes Dean had, I knew I finally found the happiness that I thought I couldn’t find because of the life I chose to lead and a life I prayed would never change. It may have been selfish to desire a happiness such as this but I also know I struggled to find peace so now that I have it, it’s like a precious artifact that I will fight to protect at all costs, no matter the risk to my own life, because that I what you do when you love someone.

Taglist: @tloveswriting @calaofnoldor @thinkinghardhardlythinking @440mxs-wife @angeredcrow @baby1967impala @suckmysupernatural @slutforfics @sam-winchester-admiration-league @awesomesusiebstuff @hobby27 @spnjediavenger @polina-93 @simpleb00x

#Sam Winchester #sam and dean #sam girls #sam girl #sam x reader #sam x y/n #sam x you #Sam fluff #Sam angst #jealous!sam

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imnotrevealingmyname · 4 years ago

Text

When A God Gets Lost

Chapter 1

Summary: There are bad ways to travel; then, there are terrible ways to travel. Teleporting to another dimension through the Æther is the latter, apparently. But as the old Bengali adage goes, even tigers will eat grass when they're starving.

Maybe a Midgardian from a different dimension isn't such a bad travel companion after all.

Author's note: This is my submission for the @allaboardthereadingrailroad 's Marvel Diversity Challenge. The OFC is an Indian- a Bengali, more specifically.

Tags: @what-just-happened-bro @is-it-madness @myraiswack @green-valkyrie @teenagereadersciencenerd @ohdearhiddles @whatafuckingdumbass @poetic-fiasco @mrs-wolfhard @your-favourite-skittles @lehuka123 @kellatron55 @shiningloki @latent-thoughts @outlawangel2020 @loki-yoursaviourishere

Warnings: Gore, mild violence, mentions of death.

Loki had known this would come to pass. He had known what he had signed up for, when he'd agreed to accompany Thor to Svartalfheim.

He'd even welcomed his own death.

At the time, the sweet prospect of release had seemed to be a gift from Valhalla.

So he hadn't tried to stop it from happening.

Except, he had.

Blood dripping from his mouth, Loki struggled to let go of strings of seiðr desperately anchoring him to his body.

Dust settled on his mottled blue skin. His ears were ringing, and blacks spots seemed to have been tattooed into his retinas.

If not for the pain, Loki would've laughed at the irony of the situation. Once again, despite all his orchestrations, he was a helpless spectator, strung tight while instincts battled brain.

White hot pain seared his entire body, radiating from the wound to his extremities, as he fought to make the tendrils of seiðr retreat. Unfortunately, it was tied to his genes, bound intricately to the essence of his consciousness. It kept him from slipping into the much anticipated slumber, tightening its hold exponentially.

Numbly, Loki thought of all the times he had heard people talk about life flashing before one's eyes before the final rest settled in.

Loki saw nothing, however. The only thing that passed before his eyes was the dreaded vision of violet sparks of seiðr curling around his own, slowly drawing his life force from him.

The salt of his tears mixed with the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. This helplessness was something he had vowed to never fall into, ever again. But here he lay, defeated yet victorious, in a veritable stream of his own blood, fighting the very instincts that had brought him thus far in life.

Odin, Frigga, Thor… Asgard. They had all taken everything from him, everything he had ever treasured. Self worth, family, his very identity…

Loki had hoped that he could find it in death. Who he really was.

But no, he had been stripped of that luxury, too. Not once, not twice… several times. Twice at his behest, and several times at another's, humiliated and agonized.

Maybe I should stop fighting.

But that wasn't who he was. Loki may not have known who he truly was, but he knew what he wasn't. He had never been one to stop fighting.

But what am I fighting for? Will this right my transgressions? Their transgressions?

Maybe sometimes… to stop fighting was to land the ultimate blow.

Gasping for breath, pain ripping his innards to shreds, he looked down at his midriff. There it was; his seiðr. The only measure of identity he had left. It was flowing from his fingers, from his mouth, weaving between his wounds, holding him together in every sense.

Loki's head fell back as he gave in to it, letting his instincts take over.

He didn't know how much effect his seiðr would have, but seeing as he couldn't do anything about it, apparently…

Unfortunately, he had underestimated the power of his own magicks. Seiðr, in every form, was sentient in its own right. Unbeknownst to Loki, continuous exposure to two infinity stones had affected his own magic in several subtle ways. Seiðr learns from itself and grows- he had learnt this even before he knew how to speak complete sentences.

Never had he thought that magic of such cosmic levels could mingle with his own.

Until he saw a few straggling fragments of the Æther hovering around his limp form.

In its urgency to revive him, his seiðr had drawn the Æther to itself, having turned into something resembling a magnet for cosmic powers.

To his horror, the bloodred fragments of the Æther clustered around him, forming a small tornado of dust and seiðr, swooping in to throw an eerie light over him.

The light only grew in intensity. The pain was lessening- his body was almost completely numb now. Wind howled in his ears, and flashes of green and red blinded him.

Satisfied with its work, his seiðr rose to greet the Æther.

Loki had been completely pinned to the ground. He struggled to look down, and saw that the wound had healed almost all the way through- enough to let him survive.

Immediately, he tried to draw back the seiðr. Enough damage had been done, he didn't need any more adventures.

The seiðr had other ideas, apparently.

Green and red danced together, shimmering and singing a shrill, haunting tune that rattled Loki to the core, producing a stab of pain in his gut.

Oh. His seiðr could only do so much. The spear that had impaled him must've been poisoned…

Which meant that his control over his seiðr was limited, and it knew it.

And thus, it was trying to regain strength by sapping it off the one of the most dangerous entities in all of the Realms.

Unlike normal seiðr, the Æther- as well as the other Infinity Stones- needn't be bound to an individual. They had their own separate existence.

Loki didn't even want to know what might happen if it bound itself to him.

Unfortunately, the velocity of the mingling magicks was growing, forming a pitch black void above him.

Fuck.

A sound of surprise and shock was the last thing that left his mouth before he was sucked into the vortex.

A deep rumble ran through the entirety of Svartalfheim when the dust settled- almost as though the Realm heaved a sigh of relief.

----

Aakshya's head hurt. Half an hour on the Arambagh local train with two three year olds bawling their lungs out less than two metres away could do that to anyone.

The last few days weighed down on her. It was all so surreal. Her last living relative- the last one she had been on good terms with, anyway- was gone.

Aakshya sighed softly, adjusting her glasses as her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away. It wasn't surprising, not really. Her great aunt had been quite aged, but losing her was still a blow she wasn't quite prepared to deal with.

At least here, she could mourn in peace.

The Chandur forest had always been her happy place. After very long weeks at work, she had a habit of spending the weekend in a small resort here, sometimes. It was just quiet enough to help her recuperate.

The resort was still half an hour away. She decided to take her time today.

The sky was darkening, and she could see the moon through the spaces between the canopies of the trees.

The moon seemed larger today. Or maybe that was just the tears in her eyes.

She sped up a little, a prickly feeling spreading over her nape.

Were the trees rustling a bit more than usual? No, that must've been the wind… right?

Aakshya stopped dead in her tracks, clutching her bag tightly.

To her right, someone stumbled in the dark, groaning deeply and uttering a string of incoherent words in a language she couldn't recognize.

Maybe it was just the owner of the resort... Though why would she be here? Wouldn't she be at the resort itself?

"Sukanya Di, tumi?"she called out timidly. "Tumi ekhane ki korcho?" Is that you, Sukanya? What are you doing here?

She whipped around, frightened.

The sight that greeted her eyes was unnerving.

A blue-skinned, armour-clad man, covered in blood, was half sprawled on the ground, chest heaving as he struggled to rise.

The weirdest thing was that he was surrounded by red and green light that seemed to be trying to enter his body.

Aakshya stumbled backwards- but then she yelped when the man's hand shot forward and grabbed her upper arm, preventing her from fleeing.

"What is this place?"he rasped, using her as support to pull himself up to full height. Aakshya's eyes widened- he was over a foot taller than her, and he seemed to have been impaled clean through his chest.

Judging from the blood, the wound was fresh; but it was already closing in front of her eyes.

What in the world-

"I asked you something, mortal,"he snapped, shaking her a little. It affected his balance, apparently, because he swayed dangerously, catching himself by steadying himself against a nearby tree.

"Are you- is this some kind of a prank?"she squeaked, trying to pry his fingers off of her.

The man growled, and then coughed up a little more blood. "Answer the bloody question, girl."

"Earth, we're on Earth,"Aakshya managed, now fighting to get out of his hold. "Unhand me, you-"

If the fact that a man who had been impaled quite recently was stronger than her was a matter of concern, it didn't strike her then, as she attempted to scratch and bite him. The man merely grunted in annoyance, retaliating by giving her another shake.

"You're lying,"he snarled. "This cannot be Midgard."

"I don't know what's going on, but-"

"Unless… no…" He seemed to be speaking to himself now, though his scarlet eyes were on her.

It was completely dark now, and Aakshya was in the hold of some creep in a forest.

Well, I'm fucked.

----

Loki couldn't believe how bad his luck was. His chest stung with every laboured breath, and the Æther was still swirling around him, and now he had been transported to a different dimension.

He could feel it.

Which meant…

There were two of him in this dimension alone.

Oh, fuck.

Meanwhile, the girl was still trying to free herself from his grasp.

Loki gave her a crooked grin. "Looks like you're stuck with me now."

She gave him a look of outrage. "No, I-"

"What's your name?"

She seemed to quell under his gaze. "Aakshya."

"Pretty name. I'm Loki, God of Mischief and Father of Magick."

Aakshya scowled, trying to hit him. "Look, if this is some weird cosplay thing, I'm really not in the mood-"

Loki sighed, using the dredges of his seiðr to still her. "Girl, I've been impaled with a poison tipped spear and thrown into a different dimension, so I'm not in the mood for your tantrums."

Her eyes bulged with rage and she tried in vain to bite him.

"How about you and I go on a nice little walk, hmm? I can sense your loneliness and heartache, girl. I am very perceptive,"Loki said with a small smirk. "I can help you, if you help me. What say you?"

"I say you're a dangerous, senile man who's a bit too obsessed with mythology,"Aakshya spat, struggling to move.

Loki laughed softly. "Oh, but a little danger never hurt."

#loki #imnotrevealingmyname #loki (marvel)#loki fanfic #loki smut #fanfic #fanfiction #tw death #gore #blood #fix it fic #marveldiversitychallenge

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romanceboys · 5 years ago

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(interview) vogue korea april issue 2020 - perfect taemin

1. superm was another chance for taemin’s ever-evolving performance to be showcased. i thought a lot about how to create synergy with these exceptional performers. to put it simply, i wanted us to come off as energetic. but these days i’ve had a change of heart. our identity is definitely important. rather than just working hard, for superm to show off their colours well we need to show our personalities; we should be seen as one team. to be able to formulate a solid and clear colour is our homework. that’s why it’s regrettable. we couldn’t come up with a novel choreography to carry our new identity. we tried a lot in the practice room. superm seems to have found its musical identity but hasn’t gotten a hold of its performance character yet. the stages are too vague. 2. now that you are finally promoting with your best friend kai in one group, you two must’ve shared your concerns. since this friend is someone who has a lot of passion and ambition, he talks about various things. for instance, this style is pretty good, this choreography is quite trendy. thanks to him i’ve learned a lot. he is also very knowledgeable about the latest ‘hottest’ genres. we talk about these things often and even watch videos together. kai gives off ‘popular’ vibes. compared to him, my interests are quite unusual. nowadays kai is interested in music while i am into science. 3. is it science fiction? these days we’ve been watching videos on the theory of relativity and quantum mechanics together. 4. what aspect of it interested you? originally i was very curious, after seeing a recommended video on youtube i learned about quantum mechanics for the first time. i couldn’t understand the explanation, even those who were explaining it said it was a difficult concept. that was very fascinating to me. kind of like magic. 5. are you reading books on the subject too? the subjects of the books i read are different (laughs). there’s a book that was published long ago called ‘regarding the pain of others.’ it is a pessimistic book that gathers contradictory opinions of people for instance ‘people find joy in the pain of others, it is instinctual.’ as a celebrity, there are times when you are criticized but there are also times when you receive comfort from people. rather than blaming others, while reading this book, i began to think ‘people are like that, at most i shouldn’t behave like them.’ my interests are all over the place. 6. what makes you and kai click? we converse well. our opinions almost never clash and we respect each other. moreover, we fully understand our own roles in superm. 7. what position do you hold in superm? since i can’t ask if it’s the main dancer. in pictures and interviews, i’m the center. baekhyun hyung is the leader (laughs). 8. when the conversation wasn’t flowing well during the talkshow interview, i saw you neatly concluding it. that does happen. nct and wayv are still in the learning phase. that’s why i first listen to all of their thoughts during interviews then flesh it out with details later. 9. compared to when you set out abroad as shinee then promoting overseas as superm now, the status of k-pop has changed. looking at how superm was able to start off with an arena tour in the us and europe made me feel that k-pop is a ‘hot’ topic. in the past, we’d use venues of this scale for smtown concerts. even if you promote mainly in asia, seeing the audience section will make you realise the perception of k-pop has changed. 10. though k-pop’s scope has expanded and diversified, its definition has become simple. what are your concerns? my first concern is language. after i was able to communicate via language during my japanese activities, there were so many advantages. though each country overseas has its own language, i felt that i needed to learn english first. there are many international fans who want to experience the chemistry between our members, they’d feel much closer to us if we communicated using (a common) language. k-pop isn’t one dimensional. it’s not only about the music, there is music video, style, etc. included. people would make dance covers in the past, now they even emulate the styling. all of this is korean pop culture. 11. superm were on the ellen degeneres show and jimmy kimmel live. before we went on the ellen show we really rehearsed the interview a lot. america’s atmosphere is different so you receive questions that are never asked in korea. they don’t disclose the questions in advance either. we were also worried because the emcee could ad-lib. we came up with the most probable questions and practiced, we also received lessons from american comedians. compared to that, we went on jimmy kimmel live without any prep. 12. what went according to plan and what didn’t? the questions were not as intense as expected, ellen was well aware about k-pop culture so it went smoothly. 13. is there a dance genre you’re into these days? contemporary, lyrical hiphop, in the future as superm i think i’ll be able to show more, not the kind of dancing that you do after learning a given choreography but the kind that is full of emotions. it’s about giving meaning to your gestures. it isn’t out yet but my concert vcr features lyrical hiphop. in it i think i’m dancing alone with a giant full moon as my backdrop but get confused when there are two of us, either it’s another person or a shadow. a choreographer with a body type similar to mine had to dress in all black to come across as my shadow. i wore an oriental outfit with smokey makeup. 14. how do you usually come up with your ideas? i get inspired by the choreographers and creative directors. i imagine it as we converse then the idea develops. 15. was there a time you were inspired by fashion? of course. art begins with the five senses. what you see with your eyes, the things you can feel, clothes, food, perfume, music that you listen to are all sources of inspiration. i create private accounts to follow fashion brands. 16. having debuted at the age of 16, you are still young but your work experience has been long. i was in certain situations because of this. it doesn’t happen as often now but even in my early 20s, i completely belonged to the senior category at broadcasting stations. they are my juniors but many of them are also hyungs, i’m their senior but i’m also the youngest. now there are even staff members who are younger than me. they’re too formal with me (laughs). 17. are there juniors that ask you for advice or help? the superm members! especially ten, he is very curious. when we come out of a company meeting, he’ll get surprised and say “wow, hyung everything you said was right.” i even hear things like ‘veteran’ and ‘seer.’ apparently my predictions come true. but i try not to advise them as much. taking the initiative to say something feels overwhelming. 18. born in 1993 between millennials and gen z, do you share any characteristics with those in your age bracket? we’ve picked out a few of their traits. the first one is ‘they don’t eat fast food.’ me too! i took care of my health well ever since i started out with shinee. i was brainwashed from home to avoid foods that harmed the body. not even ramyeon, snacks were also banned. and just like that in my 20s i started carrying out the regime on my own. it’s become a habit to look after my health ever since i moved out. i always eat things that are good for my body, if the hyungs are taking vitamins, i’d ask for one too. 19. i suddenly recall a variety show where you were the only one who skipped the sauce and ate the meat on its own! one should not eat irritable foods. my mother’s words. 20. how about ‘they watch videos on youtube rather than tv. even the ads don’t particularly bother them.’ that’s right. i watch youtube more often than tv, while watching the ads i'd even marvel at their production quality. i’ve signed up for the premium package now so i don’t see the ads anymore. 21. ‘marrying or wanting to buy their own house.’ i currently live alone and i have no interest in decking out my house. at first, i didn’t think like that but a month later my interest dissipated. i’m lazy. it’s not like my house is for others to see, i’m fine with the incomplete feeling for now. 22. and finally ‘they avoid investing in financial companies.’ i don’t do that. my parents manage that, if there’s a good tip i’ll just let them know. 23. hiphop musicians tend to express their success through music. as an idol musician how have you been using the wealth you accumulated all these years? i invest in food instead of saving up (laughs). honestly, i don’t spend much. i don’t have anything i want. though i do spend on others a lot. 24. what kind of household did you grow up in? what gifts did you inherit from your family as a musician? i inherited my body type. all of my cousins have model-like physiques, they’re taller and slimmer than me. my mother sings well. my father plays instruments as a hobby. oh, and my paternal aunt used to be a ballerina. so perhaps i inherited such genes? 25. you’ve been doing the same thing for more than 10 years. what is the purpose behind creating music and showcasing it? in the past, i would think i should do well, i need to be number one, these days i’ve become ambitious for other aspects. i take pride in the fact that my work supplies others with positive energy. i feel a sense of accomplishment when fans like my music, i want to make them as happy as i am. everyone’s profession is different but i hope this synergy gained from mutual dependence leaves a good impression. 26. are you still composing songs? i used to but now i only participate in lyric writing. it differs with each song, at times the lyrics are emotional or talk about abstract love. it seems like my next solo album will include a song i wrote the lyrics to. sometimes songs composed by overseas composers might prove too difficult for the general public to understand. so i participate a lot in the arrangement or mixing phase. i point out the parts that should be added to the composition and those that are unneeded. teacher lee soo man does give advice but it often feels like i do the producing of my own solo album. 27. taemin’s originality is the clearest when he promotes as a solo artist. which song has best represented your identity? i worked hard on all of them but there was a turning point. at first there was ‘danger’ then ‘press your number’ was a conceptual performance, the transition to ‘move’ turned out well. i wanted to break out from the typical choreography routine and create my own identity, the resulting performances were ‘move’ and ‘want.’ my next solo album is again different. i’ve been making a lot of changes these days. 28. you seem to have high standards when it comes to composing music. was there ever an occasion where you absolutely refused to compromise and gave others a hard time? everyone is used to it (laughs). it’s something i learned from the head manager hyung who’s been with me since debut. the belief that ‘there is nothing that can’t be done. there is no such thing as impossible.’ another team manager hyung would tell me ‘you remind me of our head’ (laughs). honestly, the staff around me work beyond their given roles and with affection. normally work timings are from 9 to 7, they stay back till 10-11 pm for me. they don’t hold it against me, and when things do well, they too feel a sense of fulfillment together with me. 29. the new unreleased song must be quite different from the original then. there are already 12 versions of the song. when i thought we were somewhat done, we recently started arranging it again (laughs). 30. you hold your body to specific standards for the best performance outcome. i don’t ‘bulk up.’ previously, i used to work out when i ate a lot but my body would feel weighed down, it wasn’t what i wanted. if i gain a lot of muscles or become thick, it hampers my dancing form. that’s why i don’t put on weight. i train my stamina and strength and avoid bulking up my shoulders and arms. 31. by the way, do you do neck exercises as well? i was touched looking at your long neck in the vogue photoshoot. i had been noticing this too, now i know the reason! i think it’s because i dance. a lot of resistance goes into the neck when you dance. our head is the heaviest and it’s the neck that supports it. it goes away when i rest for a few days. we’re shooting amidst the superm tour maybe that’s why it looks thicker now. 32. an editor who has been watching you closely for a long time said that you’ve become extroverted. could it be that experience and relationships have made you comfortable and secure? i’ve lowered my guard. i couldn’t reveal my current self to others before. as a child i used to be so introverted that i’d hide behind my mother when strangers would get into the elevator. i changed with time. 33. is your ever-present smile a product of your personality or just business decorum? i’m always smiling. i even laugh at things other people don’t find funny (laughs). 34. shinee members are currently serving in the army. when they’re on break what kind of advice or nagging do they subject you to? i wish they would do that. we have a group chat on kakaotalk and i always revive it by asking “what’s up” “happy new year.” but as soon as the conversation picks up they only talk about the army. when i inform them about an issue at the company they say “really?” then it’s military talk again. when i feel left out and tell them to stop, they reply with “you’ll understand when you get here.” 35. in your career as a musician, when do you feel the best? when it’s time to reveal all that i’ve been preparing for so long! it feels different from finishing it. the first stage after debuting, shinee’s first concert, performing at tokyo dome, receiving the award... these are the moments that come to mind. 36. watching taemin grow for the past decade has been a huge source of strength. what are your dreams now? there are many. first of all, once shinee comes back again, i want the entire group to give off a feeling of revival. usually after getting discharged, it’s hard to keep up with the next generation, i want to avoid that. i’ve imagined it all when the shinee members return. second, i want to perform a lot on various stages as a solo artist. superm topped the billboard 200 album chart, it’d be nice to enter the top 10 on the hot 100 digital chart as well. 37. you are really talented at setting goals. i’ve gotten greedier. it’s just not for myself but i want to do it for the fans and members, even the staff. they become my driving force. i really am lucky. everybody works hard but i even get the recognition for it. come to think of it, i was given many opportunities and i worked hard to make the most of them, i’m really happy my efforts paid off in the end. i’m surrounded by good people. shinee, superm, many people fill in the gaps for me that i can’t solve on my own. 38. superm’s concert title is ‘we are the future.’ when you hear the word ‘future’ what are you reminded of? first, it’s h.o.t. (laughs). future-oriented things come to mind like artificial intelligence, drones, 3d hologram concerts. then again, in the future, though people might be able to watch concerts through holograms, i think humans will not give up on the tasks they themselves can do. my work will still be the same in the future. 39. the reason you don’t write anything on instagram. i don’t have anything to say yet (laughs). i don’t know if i should make my instagram cool or approachable. when fretting between writing a caption or using an emoticon, i just end up leaving it blank. actually i signed up after my manager hyung suggested that instagram would be good. so i’ve made one but i still don’t know what to upload. i get teased by the people around me for putting up selfies. i even took lots of pictures especially for instagram but... 40. did you not post the pictures? the point of instagram is real-time communication. is that so! i didn’t know (laughs).

translated by romanceboys — take out with full credit (source)

#shinee #taemin #p:taemin #vogue korea april issue 2020 #interview #translations #e:superm #enjoy!

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spookybreadstick · 4 years ago

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Body Types of the Pastas

I will not be including Sally on this list, she is a child!! She has the body of a child, and that’s all you need to know. I will also not be including Slender on this list because we all know what kind of body he has (he’s a skinny legend!!) it’s literally a part of his name. Also, I might add, these are my versions of the characters and their body types do not reflect on the body types of any actors who may have portrayed them. These are just how I imagine them.

TW TW TW: Body Image Issues

Please do not read if you are struggling and believe you will be triggered by mentions of weight and different body types. This is largely positive (in my opinion), but I don’t want to trigger anybody, since there is mentions of negative relationships with food and poor body image. This is not meant to be “body-checking” or harmful for readers. It’s just a little post (I think it may even help some to be kinder with their own bodies and self-image), but just read at your own discretion, I suppose.

IMPORTANT NOTE: We do not body shame on this blog!! This is written entirely with love and appreciation for all bodies!

Also, mild NSFW warning I guess? (Nothing major, just a little, if you can call it that). For future reference, this: 💛 is the emoji that marks anything a lil spicy, but not what I would call true NSFW.

💛🤎💛🤎💛🤎

Skinny Legends (I couldn’t think of an appropriate adjective to go with it lmao)

Bloody Painter

Perfectly Petite

BEN

Lusciously Lean

Toby

Liu

Majestically Mid-Sized

Nina

Puppeteer

Jane

Marvelously Muscular

Clockwork

Jeff

Beautifully Buff

Hoodie

Pleasantly Plus-Sized

Masky

🍬 LJ is just built like that. He’s long, lanky, and skinny. No matter how many sweets he eats, his stomach remains flat. Don’t make fun of him for it (since he was sort of modeled after a doll in Isaac’s mind, LJ sometimes thinks that he’s missing some stuffing and there is something wrong with him because of that).

🎨 Helen is naturally thin, but there’s also other factors to blame. When he was growing up, his parents pushed on him the idea that being ‘skinny’ was everything for a girl (remember, they raised him as a girl until he was a young teen). They also would withhold food as a punishment for any ‘misbehaving’ that they saw. Nowadays, Helen doesn’t have much of an appetite, probably as a result of not eating enough in childhood. Helen will also forget to eat since he is so wrapped up in his art. He doesn’t mind being called skinny, that’s his body type after all, but please don’t point out his eating habits. He’ll get annoyed very easily. A much better way to go about it would be, if you see he’s too busy to eat, fix him a sandwich or something and bring it to him. You have to phrase it carefully, like, “I was hungry and made some sandwiches, so here’s one for you, too. Fuel for the artist, right?” And he’ll be more likely to accept and eat it.

🎮 BEN is, as much as he denies it, petite. He’s short and he has a small frame. There’s a little bit of squish to his tummy (it’s absolutely adorable 🥰) but he hides it (it wasn’t there originally, and it’s an accumulation of him eating all sorts of junk food in his afterlife. It doesn’t really affect him usually, but after he’s been doing it for years...) Please don’t point it out, he tries to forget that it exists and it bothers him.

🪓 Toby is lean cuisine. He’s kind of short for a guy, and that adds to his leanness. He has trouble remembering to eat and has trouble taking proper care of his body, so he is malnourished. He gets insecure about his body, so don’t say anything about it. Toby would love it if somebody cared enough to make sure that he’s eating regularly and getting proper nutrition. He is just a boy in need of some nourishing food and good lovin’! 🥰

🧣 Liu is also lean. Whenever he’s nervous or stressed, he forgets to eat. Whenever he wants to “punish” himself for whatever reason, he withholds food. He’s been doing better with this, but it was a habit he’s had since he was young, so that contributed to his smaller build. He doesn’t mind at all if you say he’s lean (he’d actually take it as quite the compliment). What he needs though, is somebody who cares enough to help him break the negative habits.

💄 Nina’s body type is hard to place, since she’s on the slim side but also not quite lean? She’s honestly really in between the lean and mid-size categories. Nina’s had some body image issues in the past, but she tries hard to keep it wholesome and positive with her self image though. She’s really got a great figure though! She’s got a small waist, probably about B-cup breasts, nice hips, and a nearly flat stomach (but not quite! She has that lil pooch thing that’s supposed to be where your uterus is?) Nina’s so pretty, honestly 😍

🧵 Puppeteer’s body type is the epitome of “average.” It’s smack dab in the middle of body types. There’s nothing particular special about it, and he’s on the slimmer side but not skinny skinny. He’s got depth and he’s also the taller side.

🖤 Jane’s got an amazing figure! She goes through periods of time where she’s a bit insecure but she’s got no reason to be! She looks great! She’s curvy (doesn’t have a flat tummy!) and it looks amazing on her. She’s got a killer ass (we love a thicc queen) and her breasts are def C cup (maybe even D cup). Jane’s got those curves in all the right places, and she looks like a goth Aphrodite when she’s in her element 🤩

⏰ Clockwork is a baddie! She has a toned stomach and not much of a chest, to be honest. She is quite muscular-looking for a girl, and she’s proud of that. And, it looks great on her!

🔪 Jeff is pretty muscular. He’s got that height going for him, and he enjoys a good workout so there’s some good muscles as well. He has a toned stomach and a bit of visible biceps when he flexes. This body type is something he had to work for though, his natural body type is a slim mid-size.

❓Hoodie is a buff king! He’s tall as well, with a toned stomach and abs. His natural body type is actually just slightly muscular, but he built himself up to be B U F F.

🤍 EJ is a big, buff boi. Before the transformation, he was actually lean. But now? He’s part demon, of course he’s going to be large and strong. He has abs now, and visible muscles hiding underneath his clothes. He has a habit of shrinking into himself though. He’s never liked his body much, and he’s insecure in his new form. Help him see that he is handsome and great just the way he is!

🎭 Masky is, admittedly, a bit chunky. He’s hella strong though, and could def beat your ass easily in any kind of competition. He gets very defensive if anyone brings it up in a negative light, or when there’s lots of people around, due to the fact that he was very insecure as a teen. If it’s brought up when it’s a one-on-one convo or if it’s gently mentioned, he’ll probably say “yeah, I’ve got kind of a dad bod thing going on, I guess,” and try to quickly change the subject. Poor boy eats when he’s stressed and then is guilty about it afterwards. He needs somebody to tell him that his body is beautiful, and then help him take care of it. He could use some love, and some reassurance of his beauty (chubby boys are so cute and wonderful and just 🥵). Please be gentle with his heart and help him raise his self-esteem <3

I thought of the song S.L.U.T. by Bea Miller when I wrote this. You should listen to it, it’s good for self-esteem!! :)

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wolfpawn · 4 years ago

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I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 163

Chapter Summary -After the long and tedious road to her Ironman, Danielle begins to get back to normal, including acknowledging that she has neglected Tom in certain manners for the past few months.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long. This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1 @black-ninja-blade

Danielle and Tom left Tenby the next day at lunchtime, giving Danielle a chance to actually get some rest and recover from her sporting endeavours, Tom holding her to him and repeating, time and again, how proud he was of her for reaching a goal.

On their way back to London, they collected the dogs and brought everything to the house. Tom drove to give Danielle the rest she needed after the triathlon. When they got out of the car, he noticed her moving her shoulder and hissing. “It’s worse.”

“It’s utterly fucked now.” She confessed. “It will need weeks of rest and physio, I’d say. I don’t think I can even drive safely.”

Though grateful she was being honest, Tom felt annoyed that she had allowed it to get worse when she promised not to overdo it but hearing her acknowledge that she would tend to it properly now silenced his argument on that front. “If you need a lift there, let me know.”

“I will.” She gave a small smile and did what she could to bring in some of her belongings inside, but Tom refused to let her and shooed her in citing the dogs needing to be settled as the excuse.

The next few days continued with a pattern, Danielle going to physio for her arm, her working on paperwork for Safeguard and her own personal work projects and catching up on sleep.

It was a week after her return from Tenby, after she had another physio session on her arm and she was collecting some food from Sainsbury’s on her way back to the house because Tom was dealing with something work related when she paused and thought of an idea. Smiling to herself, she made a small plan.

Tom was exhausted. He had been dealing with some work that Marvel had asked of him for an upcoming piece of work they were considering for him, and more importantly, Loki. He was bound by contract to say nothing yet knew that should he and Danielle come to discuss it, she would not say anything. If she could hide the ending of Game of Thrones from even him, he knew he could depend on her to say nothing regarding his work. When he pulled into the driveway, all he could think about was sitting on the couch and resting for a while, or perhaps making it to the bedroom to do so if he managed to scrape the energy from somewhere to do that.

When he opened the front door, fear filled him.

The smell of good home cooking filled his nostrils, the scents of lemon, spice and garlic telling him that Danielle was cooking some form of a roast. When he entered the kitchen, he noted the oven had a tinfoil covered meat in it, with roast potatoes on a tray below it and the stove harbouring further foods. Looking around, Tom wondered where Danielle had gone before calculating dates in his head. Their second anniversary was just a fortnight away but they had agreed that they would go out to dinner that night, so he could not fathom what had prompted this evening’s feast.

“Tom?” He jumped slightly as he heard a voice from the back kitchen area. “Are you home?”

“Yes.”

“Oh good.” Danielle came back into the room and took something in a small pot out of the fridge before placing it on the stove, swapping it with some form of vegetable. “How was your day?”

“Good?” Tom looked at her. She was wearing a dress, for no apparent reason, in the house. She never did that. It was figure-hugging, slightly dipping at her cleavage and she was wearing makeup. His fear intensified. She was clearly on a different level to him regarding the significance of the evening and it scared him to wonder what he had forgotten.

“Tom?” He looked at her face again to see a notable look of concern on it. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I...What am I missing?” Rather than trying to pretend he knew what was going on and be found out later in the evening, Tom favoured being honest.

“Missing?”

“What event or occasion is this. Our anniversary is in two weeks so I cannot figure it out?”

Danielle laughed. “Do I need a reason to want to cook a nice dinner? I haven’t been allowed half of my favourite food in weeks and I know you are busy and tired so I thought it would be nice to make us something.”

“But...your clothes?”

“I saw this a few weeks ago and with the body alterations from my new training, I thought it would be nice. Was I wrong?” She looked at him worriedly. She rarely liked dresses and she seldom wore them, but this dress had made her feel as though her figure looked good and was excited to get it, but seeing Tom looked at it with uncertainty made her anxious that she had made a mistake.

“No, it’s gorgeous, I just...Why tonight?”

“Why not tonight?” She challenged. “If I am looking for events to wear certain clothes to, I may be waiting a while.”

Tom subconsciously nodded to her words. “I’m sorry, you’re right. You have every right to wear anything you want and you look incredible so I don’t know why I am causing you to feel as though you don’t. I’m sorry, I am ruining your nice evening. Please, forgive me.” He pulled her to him, noting the lovely smell of strawberries and coconut in her hair as he did. “You look incredible and the food smells sublime.”

“Part of me wanted to get a takeaway and stuff my face in the corner but I was thinking this is probably healthier and if I continue to eat okay will mean I will not have to be greased into a wedding dress when the time comes.”

Tom gave a disapproving growl at her ridiculing words. “To the best of my knowledge, you have never had to be greased into anything and I have seen pictures of you when you accuse yourself of being at what you deem your ‘biggest’ and it’s laughable. Also, if you did add a few pounds or even a few stone, I wouldn’t care because as long as you are healthy, I just care about you being happy.” He put his arms around her as he spoke before looking down, his pupils dilating at the sight his taller height bestowed him. “Though, I will never complain as to you wearing this dress.”

Danielle laughed as she noted his line of sight. “I can’t really say anything, you have long declared yourself a lover of breasts.”

“And yours are exquisite.” Her reaction was to lean up and kiss him, causing him to groan. “Dinner…” He reminded her.

“Another ten minutes.” Danielle pulled back as she spoke. “So get a shower to help you relax and when you come down, dinner will be served.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but with how wrecked I am, I will gladly accept it.” Tom kissed her again and went upstairs as Danielle let the dogs back in from a stint in the garden before readying the last of everything that was required for their dinner.

The meal was a pleasant affair, lighthearted and relaxed. Tom informed Danielle of some more Loki related work that Disney was considering. It was not finalised, but from what he gathered, both the Trickster and another character, of whom he was not made aware of, were getting their own mini-series if certain plans came to fruition.

“So that would be your beard gone?” Danielle asked.

“I would imagine so, yes.”

“Pity.”

“Good thing it can grow back,” Tom smirked, seeing the small smile she was trying to hide on her face. “Dare I ask, come the wedding, will you want me to have it?”

“I will want you to be comfortable and happy and so long as that does not include some naff Seventies mustard and brown suit and a “pervy uncle” moustache, I am not bothered how you look.”

Tom erupted in laughter at the image Danielle gave him with her words before looking at her and seeing the playful look on her face. “I missed this.”

“Missed what?”

“Your ridiculous playfulness. You were so tired from training and juggling us, work, the dogs, training and even helping Emma, you didn’t talk as much.”

“I sacrificed a lot for that achievement but I also forced you to sacrifice for it. Thank you for being so patient and staying by my side.” Danielle looked at him with sincerity, understanding more and more since she stopped her ridiculous training load, just how much she had sacrificed for that goal. She had known she would have to adjust her life for it, and many of the things she would have to cease or put to the side made sense. Late evening dinners out with friends, a social drink, her favourite unhealthy foods but everything really came to the fore when she looked at it now and one of the greatest things to be sacrificed was her time with Tom. She was a zombie from exhaustion more than once. She recalled him urging her to bed more often than her going at the same time as him fully awake. She did not always eat meals with him and she had all but become celebate in that time and to his due, Tom never once complained at her enforcing such a fate on him too. Danielle realised that the sacrifices she made were hers and for her goal but Tom did sacrifice things also, for her. She knew he would love to spend time with his friends comfortably in New York after the fashion show but he had chosen to rush back to her. She knew he also wanted them to go out for dinner like a normal couple more than once in that timeframe also, yet he never bothered her about it, because he wanted her to have the nutrients she needed. The early morning training sessions, the early morning starts for the practise races, everything, he did willingly, for her. Looking at his cerulean blues eyes, now almost permanently framed by his glasses, she saw the love she had for him returned to her with as great an intensity. “Thank you.”

The rest of the meal went well, both continuing to talk between healthy and comfortable silences. When at the end of it all, Tom began to try and stifle yawns, Danielle urged him to bed. “Only if you join me.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” She joked as she walked up the stairs ahead of him, the dogs having been dealt with for the evening. Danielle brushed her teeth and whatnot first before swapping out and allowing Tom to do what he required in the bathroom. While he was doing so, she took off her dress and began searching for her tattered old clothes she tended to wear in bed, since she had not planned to wear them but with Tom’s tiredness, she knew there would be no amourous fun for the evening.

“What…?” She turned to see Tom looked at her from across the room.

“What, Love?”

“You’re wearing the black underwear.”

“Yes?”

“Did you want to…?”

“What?” In all honesty, the lack of full sentences by Tom was confusing Danielle at this stage.

“You dressed sexily, cooked a nice dinner and wore these,” Tom explained as he walked towards her. “You planned on us having a romantic evening.”

“I did, and we did have a romantic evening, I thought.”

“But…” He looked at her breasts, which he noticed had decreased in size as a result of her tedious working out and diet, not by much, but they did not fill the cup as they had before. “You look incredible.”

“You took your glasses off.” She joked. Tom growled slightly and pulled her to him. “You’re tired, Love, we don’t have to do anything.”

“I want to.”

“You’re exhausted.”

“You’re sexy.” He silenced her next retort by kissing her gently nipping her lip as he urged her over to the bed, causing her to smile and do the same back to him, only tugging slightly as she did, knowing how much he adored that, pushing him so he was the one to fall on the bed in his t-shirt and boxers, which he had stripped to while she had been in the bathroom and straddled his hips. The shift in power, to her being on top made Tom moan as a small wave of excited pleasure surged through him, loving that she was taking control of the situation, her breasts in his hands, her crotch rubbing against his for friction, both loving the feeling. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’m sorry, never again.” She pulled at his t-shirt and let her hands slid over his chest, enjoying the feel of the slight bit of hair he had on his pecs.

Tom found himself conflicted. Partly because he wanted to control the situation, partly because he was loving how Danielle was controlling it.

When he tried to place his hands on her hips to turn them around for him to be on top, Danielle grinned and shook her head. “Not tonight.” She leant down and kissed him again. “Tonight, I am in charge.” She shirked down his body, toying with his nipples as she gently kissed and playfully nipped at the skin of his abdomen, loving the small line of hair that trailed from his navel down to his pubic region before sliding down his boxers and gently kissing the head of his hardened length, then finally, placing as much of him in her mouth as she could, using her saliva and enthusiastic tongue to moisten him. Inhaling deeply, she held her breath and took as much of him into her mouth as possible, gagging slightly as she reached the back of her throat, but forced her body to relax slightly before edging him in a little more.

“Elle.” Tom forced himself not to buck into her mouth, knowing she was already pushing herself to fit as much of him in as she could. “Fuck, so good.”

Slurping slightly and ensuring he was wet from her ministrations, she prowled over him again, giving Tom a chance to seize her face with his hand and encourage her forward to kiss him passionately. Whilst they kissed, Danielle slid Tom to her damp body and sank down onto him, throwing her head back and gasping as she felt him fill her, realising just how long it had been since they were intimate by how tight she felt.

For his part, Tom could not help the whine he made, Danielle’s body gripping tightly around him as he relished their having sex again after what felt like an eternity. At first, Danielle’s movements were slow and languid, but as she moved, Tom began to reach her most pleasurable point within her body as he slipped his fingers to just above where they were joined causing Danielle to gasp again as she moved with more purpose. Tom urged her to lean up slightly, meaning that she was not able to sit fully onto him, but rather than that causing them less pleasure, Tom urged Danielle’s hand to her clit before he gripped her hips and began to move her down as he leant up, their movements becoming sloppier as they both became more and more engrossed in the pleasure they were experiencing. Amongst it all, the crude noise of their bodies meeting became louder and all the more notable.

All too soon for Tom’s liking, he felt his gut tighten before he forced Danielle down until he was fully sheathed within her, groaning as his pleasure reached its peak. Above him, Danielle’s movements became less aggressive, knowing he would be sensitive from his release as she chased hers. With Tom’s fingers joining hers, Danielle felt herself get closer to her own orgasm.

“Come on, my beautiful Elle, I can feel how close you are,” Tom encouraged.

“Tom.” It was a plea as well as a whine, her body teetering on the edge of an orgasm. “I can’t…oh fuck!”

At the idea that she could not complete so close to her peak, Tom concentrated his thrusts back at the point in her he knew caused the most pleasure. It took all of a few seconds before Danielle’s body clamped around his and she gasped her release, her fingers, along with Toms, still rubbing and teasing her external nerves as Tom ensured to hit her internal ones in near a constant manner before gently urging her forward.

Before he could even attempt anything, Danielle placed her lips to his and moaned into the kiss. “I love you.”

“I happen to love you too, Miss Hughes.” He smiled with satisfaction.

Danielle could not help the snort of laughter she gave in return, loving the almost dopey grin he was giving as a result of his tiredness and orgasm. “I didn’t think you’d have the energy tonight.” She toyed with his hair as she spoke, loving how long it had become.

“After so long without you, I would have done an Ironman myself at the promise of getting to enjoy you once more.”

Danielle’ssmile fell slightly. “I’m sorry, I am so sorry that I caused you to have to endure the negative sides of that race with me. I thought, more than once that I was giving the air of disinterest. I wanted nothing more than to do this with you, but I was so tired so often.”

“I know. Don’t fret, Elle, I understand. It’s done now and we are on the road to more new and fun things in the future, which hopefully will not include being in your company for so long without sex.”

“It’s harder when we are both here and we don’t do it, I find you being away, or my being away, my brain just thinks, ‘Well, there’s no point in being horny, he’s not here’.”

Tom laughed at the silly voice she gave as her brain’s. “You are the most amazing woman,” he declared lovingly.

“I know, that’s why you want to marry me.” She gently allowed him to slip from her and curled up beside him. “And the reason I said yes was because I know a good man when I have one, and I am not letting you go.”

“I wasn’t going anywhere anyway.” Tom sighed as he felt his tiredness come to the fore once more, his body satisfied at finally having been fully sated once more.

#I Hate You I Love You #Chapter 163 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic #wolfpawn

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leah-halliwell92 · 5 years ago

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Red Wolf

Summary: Ylva daughter of Thorsten the smith of their settlement has declared her of marriageable age. The contract had been struck between him and Bjørn Njalsson the skillful carpenter and former warrior of the settlement. His only daughter would be protected and future secured, now to actually tell her.

Ylva = female wolf Njalsson = Great Bjørn = Bear

Part 1

“Ylva my little wolf please consider the prospects of such a union,” Thorsten pleaded with his youngest and only daughter as they sat at for their dinner.

Ylva held a sigh as she pushed the bread about her bowl of stew. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to marry. Her reluctance came from something else...

“It has been five years since the loss of the lady Ingrid,” she said trying with all her might to remain calm, “Five years of being on his own and five years without a woman by his side.”

Thorsten sighed at this and nodded for he knew it was true.

It had been five long years since the death of the wood carver’s wife, many in the towns had speculated that it was a jilted lover who killed her for choosing the carver over him. Other, the more kindly of neighbors thought something more real...and close to home had occurred. Burning questions and gossip had gone rampant back home about it, about him. It had driven her to near madness how they treated the normal stoic yet kind soul that is Bjørn Bergman.

“Maybe he knows it’s time for a second chance,” her father reassured her, “He will be a good match for you.”

Ylva nodded hoping to be convincing before sighing in relief that her father bought the act.

‘It has nothing to do with him that is the problem,’ she thought as she continued eating, ‘I will be the problem. I will be a burden to him as a young wife, I may be young but I am far from a fool. I fear the ghost of his beloved will haunt me till I join my kin in Valhalla.’

Ylva was not expecting a warm welcome when she went to meet him officially the following day. Her father insisted on arriving at Bjørn’s home near the sea early, insisting that punctuality was important. That it showed they were people of their word when they made it. She’d have believed him but knew that appearing in a man’s home unannounced whether they would be going anyway or not is not a good way to make a good impression.

Upon arrival to the sea side road Ylva marveled at the sight. It is like the best of both worlds to her the sea on one side and the forest on the other, both resources needed to survive. Arriving at the homestead, she saw the one story home and nearly gasped at how lovely it is. Single floored home with space for both a garden and small animal pen, the home itself looked big enough to house a family of four. It wasn’t a long house like those back home but it had an appeal she wouldn’t mind calling home.

The closer they got, Ylva saw her betrothed to be on sheer size alone. His height astounded her! She’d heard he is the tallest of the men in their settlement but had not believed it until she saw him. A side view provided her with some details on his physicality. Dark hair cut short close to his scalp, equally dark eyes (from what little she could see) and a dark beard streaked with grey gave him a distinguished look without making him look old. It did make her wonder what he looked like underneath all that hair.

“Greetings friend!” Her father called out as he rode to the gate of the yard.

Bjørn turned to face him and gave a half grin and nod in greeting.

Ylva gave a small nod and grin in greeting before dismounting her horse.

“Welcome,” Bjørn said with a kind grin on his face as he walked over.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us,” her Thorsten said, “Forgive the early arrival, the day’s orders can be put on hold for so long.”

Bjørn nodded in understanding at this and motioned for them to enter his home.

“This is my daughter Ylva,” he introduced before they went in.

Ylva felt the taller man’s gaze on her and she met it head on, not in challenge but showing that she was not afraid. Ylva knew he’d seen battle just as she had and she wouldn't take anything less than what she deserves. She can be patient and all the qualities a good wife is and should be. However she will not be cowed for being female.

Bjørn looked at her appreciatively, liking the hidden strength he saw in her blue eyes.

“Welcome,” he said with a kind grin nodding them to enter his home.

Inside, Ylva saw his shield and sword and marveled, she isn’t short by any means but that sword could have dwarfed her. She was impressed, very impressed. His prospects were looking more than incredible.

She gave opted to explore the woods behind his home affording the men time to discuss the marriage contract.

In her explorations, she took the time to center herself and really think about what it would be like to be married. If you’d asked her if she was looking forward to it she’d have said yes...that is if the identity of her suitor was not revealed. It has nothing to do with Bjørn himself either. He’s a widower, all in town knew how he’d adored his late wife. Raven haired and crystalline blue eyes.

She’d heard talk around their settlement of the late of Astrid the Raven. How she fought bravely and married an equally brave and strong fighter. Her reluctance in marrying Bjørn stems from her own insecurities, he may grow to like her yes but he’d never lover her as a man loves a woman.

Ylva shook herself away from those thoughts, sending a prayer of thanks to the gods for just giving her the chance and honor to be the wife of such a great warrior. She is optimistically hopeful for there to be mutual affection between them even if it is just to alleviate sexual tension. Even if it was a bad idea to hope for more.

On her way back to the house, she saw her father and Bjørn shaking hands and nodding at each other. Ylva could see that they’d come to an agreement, this was confirmed when her father called for her, “Ylva!”

Ylva approached the men hoping her appearance looked passive.

“Yes father,” she said with a small grin.

Your father looked on you fondly and explained how all would go now that the final negotiations have been made and approved of by not only both parties but by her as well and a date was set for the last Friday of the month for all preparations to take place.

00//00//00

“He’s coming to meet you,” your father said as he followed you about your home not a week after your meeting with Bjørn, “You need to be ready.”

Ylva rolled her eyes as she took the rolls of fire wood she’d gathered earlier in the day and taking it to the smithy where her father worked.

“I know father,” she said trying not to sound as exasperated as she felt with him anxiously following her around, “But not so soon that I cannot finish my morning chores.”

Thorsten eve her a peaked look but left her be going to the shop to see what needed mending or who needed their orders filled.

Ylva breathed a sigh of relief and followed with the wood before rinsing her hands in some water and getting started on the dinner they would eat that day. This would have to be the best thing she’d need to make to see if Bjørn sees her as a good cook. This would be the first time he’d be visiting with them in their home, first impressions were everything and all she could hope for that he saw she keeps her father’s home in order enough to approve of her leading his home.

She is but isn’t nervous of the coming visit. She approves of him and from her father had told her of their meeting alone, Bjørn had approved of her as well.

00//00//00

A/N: Don’t forget to leave feedback, like and reblog peeps!!! And if you want to tagged hit me up!

Dracula Tag-List: @kaddis-world, @count-snackula, @your-pixels-are-showing, @peachlogiic, @the-life-and-times-of-a-nerd, @lokiisbrucebanner, @deny-black, @drsherlockmoffat, @festering-queen, @ashashashashashie, @hoefordarkness, @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels, @glamrockmonarch, @damesteph, @carydorse, @allis143, @break-free-killer-queen, @bloodspatteredprincess, @dracula-s-bride, @disneymarina @thebeautyofdisorder, @purvana, @hyacinth-meadow

#claes bang #viking!claes #actor fic #the thirst for a viking dracula is real #this will have to do #claes bang fic

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lamalefix · 5 years ago

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A whisper of smoke 2/5

[Buddie fic; Heavy Angst; Angst with a Happy Ending; Hurt/Comfort; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Established Relationship; Major Character Injury; Blood and Injury; Eddie’s POV; I don’t know how to English; I Don’t Even Know how to tag; I don’t even know why; Author.exe has stopped working]

read ch1

[read this work on ao3]

Eddie proceeds by the sheer force of inertia.

Hour after hour, day after day, week after week, and it’s been months. In a blink of an eye and at the same time in what seems like an eternity, it’s been months. Something changed there’s a new life: Maddie and Chim’s baby girl, but something didn’t change.

He no longer sleeps. Or, at the very least, he’s exhausted when he wakes up every morning. Three hours a night is enough, three hours a night is enough to be able to work, the least that he can do at work. At night he reads scientific articles, inquires, studies, reviews, meta-analysis. And now he knows there was a woman in 2017 who recovered completely after a month-long coma after a severe cardiac arrest and hypoxia. And even if he knows Evan is out of time, but maybe he’s just as resilient. He read and re-read that article on communication in comatose patients, the one Evan read just before the fire, just before the accident, just before hell broke loose.

Everything changed in those months, and yet everything it’s still the same.

He goes to wake Christopher before turning in the kitchen to prepare breakfast, and looks into the fridge and pantry, and decides that today is a good day to go shopping, he’ll go to the hospital in the evening before coming back home. Today needs to be a good day. Maybe he should also buy the pancakes mix, although Christopher has stopped asking for them by now, but maybe this is due to Eddie’s disastrous culinary ability rather than the fact that it was Buck who made him the best pancakes in the world. But Chirstopher will never say it aloud, rather his child who was once sunny preferred to stop asking. He stopped with pancakes, with movie nights, with ideas for school projects, all he does is play with his Lego and do homework in his room. He has stopped being the usual ray of sunshine, the usual cheerful and courageous child, he has lost that light in the eyes.

And Eddie’s heart became a little smaller and perhaps he just must find the courage to react, to take that step that is delaying and postponing and postponing, ignoring Maddie and what his conscience continue to suggest.

Days have passed. Weeks. Months.

Months, Dios.

He must find a way to get his shit together, to go on for him and for Christopher. For Christopher who does nothing but play with his Lego, do his homework and draw in his room, who has become quieter and has lost that sparkling light in his eyes. He no longer has nightmares, or at least they are not as intense as before, and not even so frequent, but he has lost that light in his eyes. And the only flash of joy is when he goes to visit Buck, in the hospital, in the hospital in a long-term intensive care unit that certainly isn’t a place for kids like him, and chooses his books and gets help to get on the bed as close as possible to Buck, and with a disconcerting delicacy he takes his place near his Bucky and begins to read, the book open for both to see. Even if Buck has his eyes closed.

But Eddie can’t let himself go, astray, he must stop feeling that way. He must go back to having control over his life, otherwise he will bring Christopher down too.

It was difficult to find the words, but Chris understood, because Christopher is so smart and resilient and is a fighter. And he said to Eddie with his big grey eyes, “Then let’s fight with him”.

“Mornin’ daddy” mumbles his child as he drags himself with the unmistakable ticking of his crutches in the kitchen. He is already fully dressed, and although he slept tonight, even his sleep doesn’t seem to have been restful, beneath the slightly fogged glasses there are dark circles under the eyes.

“Hey buddy! You are all ready for school!” he says ruffling his hair, deliberately upsetting something he has so painstakingly combed. He wants to see him laugh, he doesn’t want to think about his eyes that are so distant and empty and tired, he wants to get his son back.

“Oh, come on daddy...” Chris snorts, moving his hand, but squeezing his fingers in a comforting way. “I-I co-combed,” he mutters, chuckling, softly.

“Oh, I see it! That’s why I had to you,” Eddie replies, smiling. "Come on, let’s have breakfast otherwise we arrive late to school and Miss Flores scolds me."

Christopher climbs the chair without too much effort, he’s grown a couple of centimetres in the last few months, and now these movements that were more tiring before, are way easier. He stretches to retrieve the cereal box and pours them into his cup.

“Here is the milk...” Eddie says, pouring a little over the cereals, and with his other hand she brings the sugar close to him. “Before going to work I’ll go shopping, do you have any special requests?” he asks.

And Christopher shakes his head. “C-Can we see a movie tonight?”.

Eddie smiles at him and reaches out to retrieve two tablespoons of cereal for himself. “Sure!”.

And Christopher’s eyes light up, shine like two little stars. “Really?”.

Eddie can only clench his jaw and pretend that the weird, painful thrill that gave him the unbelieving tone in Christopher’s voice is attributable instead to the coffee that returns hot and bitter in the throat. He heaves a small cough. “Sure,” he replies. “And we are together tomorrow too, I’m off… I received the newsletter from your school, there is an exhibition on the stars at the science museum, would you like to go?”.

Christopher smiles for a moment, but then his eyes turn sad, dull, empty.

“Hey, if you don’t feel like it, we’ll go again another time. We can have a quiet day only you and me. Maybe we can sleep late and play all day... maybe we can organize an exit to the park with Denny and Nia?” he mumbles.

Christopher shakes his head. “No, it’s fine, let’s go”.

“Great!” Eddie nods, jumping to his feet. “We have to hurry, you have to finish breakfast and brush your teeth. I’m going to prepare your backpack”.

“Everything is ready,” he replies.

“Oh really? But you’re all grown up then!” mutters Eddie bending over to kiss the top of his kid’s head. “Look here, you’ll grow taller than I am in no time!”.

Christopher snorts and continues to eat, without saying anything.

And Eddie maybe should go deeper, maybe he should ask him something, but for now he decides to let it go and let his son come to him. He never was a pressing father, he is apprehensive, but never pressing. “I’m going to finish getting ready, it will end up you’ll have to accompany me to work and do the shopping if you get so big all together!”.

Eddie slips into his room and finishes getting ready. He doesn’t look at the bed, at the absence in his bedroom, he decides to take a last look at the school newsletter. The science museum labs should give Christopher some light back, he likes the stars, or at least that’s what he thought a few nights ago, when he was in bed and couldn’t sleep. And all the videos on his phone, the videos of the three of them together, broke his heart again, the emptiness pressing in the bed, the silence so loud and oppressive in that room. He had found a good reason to avoid that particular activity, actually, that night, but right now he doesn’t remember what it even was. Perhaps because he has decided that today must be a good day, or perhaps because it was not a good reason, the one that he had found. It was just another way out, but for himself, not for his son, his marvellous and resilient son. In any case, he doesn’t remember now.

When he returns to the kitchen, he doesn’t expect to see Christopher staring at his cup still full of all moist cereals, the straw in his hands while his shoulders shake as he sniffs.

“Chris? Hey buddy?” Eddie calls him softly, and is a little afraid to identify how much his voice is trembling as he says his son’s name. “What’s going on, mijo?”

“I don’t want to go. At the museum… we… we had to go with Bucky” he mumbles. “I’m sorry, daddy but… but Bucky will enjoy it and… I like it when he explains everything and… and I want that, I want to wait for Bucky, can’t we wait for him?”.

And it is the first time he has seen him, his strong, beautiful kid, so broken, so shattered, so fragile. Small, so tiny, he sees behind that mask of strength and resilience that has been built around him or that perhaps is precisely his character. And then Eddie crouches next to him and embraces him, and his son breaks himself into a thousand pieces in his arms and cries louder and sobs and sniffles. Here was his good reason. They had to go with Buck. They even talked about it, about the exhibition about the stars with thematic workshops. One evening, while they were out in the backyard looking at the stars, Evan who, with his gentle low voice, had Christopher in his arms and pointed to the sky. And Eddie’s heart aches in his chest. He forgot. He forgot Evan, he forgot his soft smile when he said they could bring Christopher to the science museum.

“We won’t go there, it’s fine. Okay, let’s stay home tomorrow,” he replies, the air that scratches the back of his throat. “There is no hurry. We’ll go to the show when we’re ready, okay? When he comes back to us,” he says slowly. And he was so wrong to believe that they were ready for a good day, both of them. “Come on, finish eating, and let’s go. Or your teacher will be angry with me if we are late”.

“Can I go see him today?” Christopher asks quietly. “After school, it’s Friday so aunty Maddie doesn’t work today, can I go, dad?”. It’s like a plea, a prayer.

And Eddie nods. “Okay, after school you go read your book to him, huh?” he decides “Then I’ll come pick you up after work and we go eat a pizza, mh?”.

And Christopher lights up, as if he had told him something incredible, as if he had said that he would take him to a theme park, to Disneyworld or whatever it is. Instead, he only gave him permission to go to the hospital, to visit him.

He drives silently, then, all the way from home to school, Christopher looks out the window and occasionally sniffs. He chose a book to read to Buck and put it in his backpack, before getting into the truck.

When they arrive at the school gates, his son takes the backpack and gets down without help.

Eddie bends down to hug him, as every time and Christopher strokes his cheek and looks him in the eye for a moment. “Be careful at work,” he says slowly, in a shaky voice.

This is a new thing that tells him since he has been in therapy or, better, since Buck is in the hospital. It’s all different, since Buck’s is there. And this little charm, his small words, murmured while he cups his cheek, are like a small blessing. Buck doesn’t have his back at work, but he can do it even without stretching out his hand to get Evan’s, he just needs to be careful.

Eddie mimics his gesture and strokes his cheek in return. “You pay attention at school,” he winks.

And Christopher snorts a small laugh and begins to stroll towards the entrance. “I am a good student!”.

Eddie doesn’t reply, while waits there see him enter and then he gets back in the car, but pulls straight in front of the supermarkets, he decides that he must see him today too, in the morning, before his shift. He too must go to Evan.

He sends a message to abuela, to ask her to do some shopping for him, which means that she will fill the fridge and the pantry with real things to clean, season, chop and cook like an adult, and a lot of homemade meals already ready to be put in the microwave. (He can already imagine Tìa Pepa groaning, but that’s okay).

And then he calls Maddie. He never calls her, they have a kind of silent non-aggression pact, they have divergent views on Evan’s condition and no, they don’t talk much.

Maddie’s speeches are yielding, they have the bitter taste of defeat. But she always likes to accompany Christopher to visit Evan.

“Eddie?” comes her voice.

“Hi Maddie, Christopher would like to come with you to the hospital this afternoon, if you’re available,” he murmurs, as monotonous as possible.

“Sure! Sure!” she says, her voice ringing. “Eddie, listen...”.

“I know, Maddie, I’m not ready” he mumbles softly. “I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want... I don’t want to, even think about it. I don’t” he adds more categorically.

“Eddie...” she sighs. “Let’s have coffee before you have to go to work, mh? You’re coming to the hospital, aren’t you?” and it’s rhetoric question, of course. When Maddie stays there at night, Eddie is the one who takes over in the morning.

Eddie has never loved hospitals, and he is more than certain that anyone who has ever proclaimed said love has never found in a situation like his, like theirs.

It’s very hot in hospitals, and waiting rooms are always so oppressive, sick.

They all have that unmistakable smell of plastic and disinfectant, and scots pine to cover the stale smell. And no matter how accustomed he is to waiting, now, no matter how quickly his brain adjusts to the smells, and no matter how much he believed he would get used to spending hours in there, there is still that mixture of smells pinches his nose. And he decides not to focus on that stinging pain in his chest.

Hours have passed, days have passed, weeks have passed. And if Eddie really concentrates, he could even say how many minutes, how many seconds have passed since they brought Evan in there, in that hospital. Or at the very least since Eddie, after collapsing, woke up, half sedated in the triage area, a small concussion and some bruised ribs, the verdict of his condition. A week off. And he hoped he would bring Buck home with him at the end of the week.

Instead, that week went by followed by many, many others, and he sees people whirling and murmuring in that waiting room. His condition is a strange one, he knows and doesn’t know, altogether, how long he spends there in the waiting room. He could say he knows all those faces that move around him, all those voices, and at the same time he doesn’t know anyone. Or maybe he just recognizes nobody, other than the worried, devastated, tired expression that is perhaps the same one he wears.

Whichever time Eddie is there, every time they chase him out of the little room where Evan is sleeping, there is always a constant swirl of people. People who come and go, who are welcomed and accompanied by doctors and nurses, and every time Eddie sees a white coat, his heart jumps in his chest. In hope and fear, in fear and hope. He hopes that they tell him that he is awake, that he finally responds to treatment, that soon, soon they will finally see the end of this continuous limbo in which they find themselves. And he fears, with all that he has in his body, every inch of his skin, every little cell and its micro-organisms, he fears that they will tell him that there is nothing more to do, that their time together is over, no tomorrow.

And when someone speaks to him now, Eddie responds in monosyllables, he answers because he goes with the current, shipwrecked by that sea of unspoken things, of lost time, of decision made too late, of movements that he may had made wrong.

And if he closes his eyes he feels his presence, he feels strong and clear even when Eddie isn’t sitting in that oppressive little room in which they put him, in which he is all grey, including him who is usually colorful and flamboyant, who has that infectious smile and those warm hands, the cheerful eyes and the clear and strong voice, the chatter that fills the air are now just an old memory that digs inside him with such precision, with such diligence that it seems like a torture. And gradually his heart becomes smaller and smaller and his knees tremble, inciting him in his constant escape, even if he is motionless and stands there and waits.

And waits.

For days, weeks, months, for so long it hurts.

There is a moment, in the morning when he wakes up, those few times that he has the courage to go to bed, in their bed, that he forgets that absence. Because even if he isn’t there, even if Evan isn’t there at home with him, even if he is distant, and he sleeps and at the same time doesn’t sleep in a hospital bed, he is still so close. There is that moment, that wonderful and painful moment when Eddie doesn’t remember, doesn’t remember that he went to bed alone and that if he reached out, he would feel the mattress, the sheets, Evan’s place in the bed cold, so cold and empty. Perhaps it is because it’s their routine, his continual repetition of their routine, which anchors him to reality and also makes him live in a series of gestures, makes him retrace all those gestures that he hasn’t done for hours, days, weeks, months. And so he imagines, or maybe it is his brain that grants him this feeling of peace, he imagines that it is always one of those mornings in which they have more time, that they do not have to run to the truck and take Chris to school, and can afford a lazy morning in pyjamas, a pile of waffles, puffy and soft, in front of them on the coffee table, while more than looking at something they just browse the Disney + catalog and end up, like all the other times, looking at reruns of Avengers Assemble.

Then, then after that perfect moment of blissful ignorance, clouded by fatigue, he remembers that the bed is empty. And it’s been hours, days, weeks, months and the bed is always this cold. And hi breath hitches at the back of his throat.

Nobody can fix his heart, nobody can unbreak all those bits, nobody except Evan.

And that’s why he proceeds by the sheer force of inertia, the old routine that kicks to take back its rightful place. A few exercises in the morning, showering, breakfast, and in a hurry at school and then, if he has time, he can pay a quick visit to the hospital, before the shift at the station, like today.

And when his day is awful, and he can’t reach out and take Evan’s, because the shift is too long and he sleeps too little, and Buck is not there to make his day better, to tell absurd facts, talking continuously and filling his head with thoughts, stealing that little peck in front of the lockers, or chaining a series of kisses on his neck, as soon as they come back from a bad call, he goes over their morning routine again and again.

He retraces their morning routine, retraces every single step with his thoughts and does his best not to think, not to look at his hands, the blood that is encrusted in the beds of his fingernails, and at the same time too much time has passed for him to see it, but he feels like Lady Macbeth, and can swear he can still see those marks on his hands. And as much as he disinfected them, his hands, soapy and clean, in all those days, until they started to hurt, he can swear to still see the stains of his blood, crusted at the base of his palms.

And every time he thinks about their morning routine, then he comes to think about that push, Buck who kicked him out of that house just in time to prevent both of them from being crushed by debris. He goes through everything that happened afterwards, he thinks about the fact that maybe, with the right sling, with a rope, he could have thrown himself in there and pulled Evan out, intervening first.

And they needed to move quickly, because in these cases it is the timing that matters. A minute can change things. And they wasted time, they wasted a lot of fucking time. Dios.

And every time he hopes, that little, big selfish voice that murmurs under his skin, he hopes to have gotten Evan in the hospital in time, anyway. He hopes it for Evan and for his own heart, for Christopher and for Maddie, but above all because Eddie will never have the strength to overcome this thing. If he doesn’t come home, Eddie is done, finish, caput. And it’s not a figure of speech, because as long as Christopher isn’t big, and strong, and able to look after himself on his own, Eddie will have to continue to exist, his world will continue to turn as he did in that huge before, in that part of his life before Buck.

With Shannon it was already over when her life came to an end. But with Buck it was just started.

And Eddie could list them, the days they spent together. Nights, he could count them in his hair, he could remember them one by one. Every single moment since that evening, an evening like many others when Buck was at home, after a gruelling shift of thirty hours, and Eddie was at work instead. And Eddie had made a shitty, a very big shitty fucked up decision, which now he doesn’t even have the courage to remember. When he doesn’t think he usually makes fucked up moves, and this one he did to do his job, to be a hero, and maybe a jerk.

And it was like going back, like ending up in that fucking field hospital again, after the accident with the helicopter, it was like ending up on the ground with a series of burning wounds. He doesn’t remember it, and maybe this is other material for Frank, because he remembers everything else.

He remembers never having seen Evan so pissed, the halogen light of the hospital casting a golden glow behind him, he was quivering in anger while his eyes were shimmering with tears. And he remembers having thought, clearly that he looked like a kind of avenging angel, his giant-like physique broken by sobs while shouting at him, his hair curled in a corner, because clearly when they called him, he was sleeping.

That was when Eddie realized how beautiful Evan truly is. He had never thought anyone could seem so wonderful.

He remembers thinking he had wasted time, while his arms didn’t respond to him, while his body was unable to react, however much he wanted to hug him. And Eddie is certain that it was at that moment that he managed to give a name to what he felt, to what he feels even now. And maybe he asked himself or said it out loud, he doesn’t remember it, his heart on his lips, since when, Evan, how long have I fallen in love with you? And when Evan brought him home a few nights later, the two of them spoke. And their feelings found themselves halfway, in a gurgling of sounds never heard, in a rumbling of swearing and insecurities.

It was like finally getting home, his heart finally at peace.

And now…

The cafeteria at that time of morning is already full of people, doctors and nurses having breakfast, relatives who spent the night there, as Maddie did this time. She does it when she has the next day off, she gets off from work and goes directly there. Then in the morning someone usually takes over. Usually it’s Eddie who takes his place, sitting beside Evan and then when he has to go to the station leaves him with one out of Carla, abuela, Pepa, or Athena.

It doesn’t take long to find Maddie, she sits at the usual small table on the corner, in the corner of the two windows overlooking the prehensile garden of the hospital.

They talked several times there, every time Evan doesn’t respond to medications, every time there is a small improvement, every time he has a fever, every time he gets worse, every time he seems to get better. And they always end up talking about cutting off the life support, turning everything off and letting him go, letting him make one last heroic gesture. Let him donate his organs, because that’s reasonably what Evan wants.

“Hey,” she says, smiling, with that affable smile of hers, which must be a family trait, and gestures for him to take a seat in front of her. She has a takeaway cafe in her hands and another that is clearly waiting for Eddie.

“Maddie, thank you for bringing Chris here this afternoon.” murmurs. “I’ll take him back, when I get off work, today I have a short shift...”.

“Eddie,” she begins to say, holding out the other coffee to him. “I read the article you said, that one about brain activity and communication in comatose patients… and...” she sighs softly. “We can try, I thought we can try, we could ask the doctors to do that procedure, to let them perform an MRI, maybe tomorrow, so ... so we are present and...” she continues to say.

Eddie looks at her. And he knows it, that it hurts him as much as it hurts her to see Evan like this, so motionless, dull, empty, like a shell.

“But Eddie, you know that if they confirm that there is no more brain activity, we have to let him go, right?” she mutters, looking at him with her soft brown eyes. “He would like to donate his organs, saving lives in the process, his last heroic act. But I think he left us the choice” and before Eddie can object, argue, that he knows it, he knows that Buck would like to donate organs and save lives, and so on, Maddie continues “He wouldn’t want to live like that, attached to a ventilator, to leave us to dumbing down out of waiting... Eddie it’s been months, you know... the percentages... every single day he has very little chances, and yet I know, I know if one could survive this hell, this thing… that definitely is Buck.” she adds, looking down at her coffee.

“We have to fight,” Eddie declares, stoic. He doesn’t like resigned speeches like these.

“Eddie...” she calls him.

“We aren’t leaving him, not yet. The doctor said it, all the doctors who visited him... we are not sure... he... Evan is strong and...” he mumbles slowly, trying to keep calm, trying to keep calm because what she is saying, what she’s trying to say is… heinous, atrocious, excruciating. And Eddie doesn’t want to hear it. And anger mounts in his throat, a hallucinating, frightening anger. And in his heart he knows, what Maddie says, she says it because she loves him, as much as Eddie does, on a very different level but... but it’s throwing in the towel, it’s abandoning him, it’s letting him go. And it’s early, too early, and they had so little time together. And Eddie knows this isn’t going to last forever, but he just has to try. To do something about it. He never seems to do enough.

She purses her lips and heaves the air out in an almost irritated sigh. “Eddie ...”.

“We can’t abandon him, Maddie. We can’t stop fighting. Give him some time, give him some more time.” he says, and in his ears this rings like a prayer. “Please, Maddie. Let’s give it some more time”.

“Eddie you know, his condition... at the moment is...” Maddie stops and her voice trembles. “If we do this MRI thing and it confirm that there is no brain activity, we have to let him go,” she replies, a monotonous tone, such a resignation in her voice.

“But we don’t know yet, maybe they do this one more specific MRI and he reacts, so what do we do? The doctors said that we can’t know for certain, there was this case, this woman in 2017...” he begins to say but Maddie tries again to stop him.

“Eddie” she calls him again, moving her hands onto Eddie’s holding them for just a moment.

“No. No.” he replies, and maybe growls, maybe shouts. He doesn’t know it either, he only knows that his voice scratches his vocal cords, and it comes out strangled at the end. “You want to abandon him, you always leave him.” It gets away from his lips and he doesn’t have the courage, the strength, to look at her, after saying that bullshit.

Maddie moves back in her sit, and holds the cardboard cup in her hands, closing her eyes.

And Eddie has an immense need for air and really needs to start thinking before speaking.

“You’re right,” she murmurs in a whisper. Her eyes full of tears, before blinking and wiping the corners of her eyes with the fingertips. “You’re right I... I always leave him, I abandon him... I... I promised and yet… I’m giving up on him” she shakes her head. “We have to fight for him, with him. You��re right...” she nods. “But, we have to face reality, Eddie… if there is no brain activity, we have to follow what we know he would want, we have to...” she sniffles a bit and moves to retrieve a couple of napkins to wipe her tears off her face. “We love him so much Eddie, I know it. I know how much you and Christopher love him… how much the rest of the 118 love him… but we have to let him go, Eddie, to allow him to make one last heroic gesture. He... would be happy. Even if that means he’ll leave us, even if that means that at least half of our hearts will go with him”.

Eddie clenches his jaw and closes his eyes. He knows, he knows damn well that Evan would want that. “I just want more time, Maddie”.

“I also want that, you know. I want to see him happy with you, I want him to accompany me to my wedding. I want him to know my kids, when and if I’ll have them... I want a lot of things for him, I want him to be here when these things happen. I want... I want him to finally understand how important it is for all of us,” she adds and her eyes are all shiny, she wipes the tears from the corners of her eyes again, and sighs. “But, Eddie you know, you know he’s getting worse. He doesn’t react to somatosensory stimuli... he is no longer here” she finally says, her lips trembling and her voice breaking at the end.

“That woman too, in 2017, she also did not react yet...” he continues to say, this time in a whisper. In his head, his rationality murmurs that Maddie is right, but Eddie is selfish and he’s not ready. He never will be.

“Eddie,” she sighs, shaking her head.

“Give him some time, Maddie.” he murmurs. “We need time, Maddie”. And it sounds like I, I need time. And maybe as unspoken as it is, it’s true.

“Let’s do this test and that’s it, okay? It’s wearing us out, Eddie. It’s wearing him out. ” Maddie decides and swallows hard before standing up. “We have to start thinking about what he would like for us, as well as for himself... and while he’s slowly fading away, we are doing the same with him. It isn’t good for your son and it isn’t good for you, and it isn’t good for me. Knowing that he is, Eddie, he...” she shakes his head. “If there is no brain activity, we’ll let him go, and we’ll make him be the hero he is one last time”.

And Eddie would like to tell her that she can’t decide, for Evan and for himself, but in reality she has allowed Eddie to bask with his broken heart and in this abyss, in this dark and painful limbo, all this time. But he just nods. “It will be hard. But I’m good with bottling up everything”. He won’t need a heart anymore, if they’ll let Evan go.

“It will be hard,” she sighs. “You were the best thing that could happen to him, you know, right? But we can’t fight this battle for him”.

And Eddie purses his lips and gets up too, he has another place to go, perhaps for the last time. He bids her goodbye with a nod and tries not to feel how bad his heart hurts when it breaks, again and again.

It’s frightening how he knows that hospital by heart, now. And he could arrive in the waiting room without even thinking. He shouldn’t even stop by there and wait, he could just go in and go to him, but every time he stops there to collect thoughts and tries to pretend to be in control of this situation. As if Evan could see him, all broken like that or not.

And every time Eddie is there, that Eddie waits, no matter how much his legs tell him to run away, no matter how the voices of his insecurities, and all his unspoken words vibrate under his skin, it’s a continuous fluctuation of thoughts, memories and his head always goes to some fucking hideous place, then. After the calm there is always a storm.

Eddie has been present at countless deaths. First some of his closest relatives, who had left peacefully, the luckiest with so many happy years behind them, then civilians and soldiers, when the red sand burned his face and the air smelled like dust and flames, then of the victims, when it seemed that it could no longer hurt, and instead they still cloud some of his worst nightmares, the impotence of not being able to help them enough, to never be enough that still weighs on him.

Death first takes away the power to speak, people begin to rant, and perhaps he clearly remembers a young lieutenant on his first tour, when he was still not very familiar with the war zone, who had talked for hours without saying nothing, asking and asking and asking to bring it back to her. Whoever she was, until he lost his voice and the pain clouded his vision. His last words swallowed by the ventilator and the morphine. And then he stopped seeing, moving. The only thing that remains, until the end, and this he had discovered when he was still a child and his abuelo was dying in a hospital like this, is hearing. Even if the person has lost consciousness, it isn’t that unusual for familiar voices to elicit smiles or tears. Abuelo, a big persevering man, had listened until his last breath abuela’s sweet words, a 260 lbs and over 6 ft extremely severe man, had listened to abuela’s latest recommendations with a small smile on his lips, she had never said goodbye to him, only small recommendations as if he could be stubborn and uncooperative even in the afterlife.

And Eddie does not want to think about that terrible eventuality, which is more and more palpable, every day, the more hours pass and the more the abyss swallows him. In the continuous fluctuation of improvements, of high and inexplicable fevers, of positive responses to medicines, and rejections, of fingers that tremble when Eddie holds his hand, and sudden stillness, of those times that he seems about to wake up, and then nothing, his condition just worsens.

The only thing that matters is that he is still fighting, that the doctors still haven’t given up, they try and try to find a way to make him come back, but... but hope is scary, hope is scary and one shouldn’t never find himself in Eddie’s shoes, in Eddie’s very position, three steps back with someone, with Evan who would never want to go away who runs away from his hands, all that enormous love that slips between Eddie’s fingers.

Eddie has seen many, has seen more than he wants to admit, of wounds like Evan’s. And even if he wants to silence that voice, the field doctor in him knows perfectly well that if not treated quickly, sucking chest wounds can be lethal. Taking a quick first aid in the first few minutes and taking the injured person to the hospital can save lives and prevent long-term complications.

Evan came out on his shaking legs from that terrible hell, and now he is in danger of dying because they, because they didn’t move fast enough, they didn’t have the courage to run in there and get him out. Timing is important, and they’ve thrown everything, all of Evan’s efforts down the drain.

Eddie does everything to remain at the helm of his emotions and navigate calm waters, without having to go through them, those storms that cloud over the horizon, because if he were to give free rein to what he feels, the best thing that could happen to him is ending up in jail, after head-butting the centre of Bobby’s face. And this is the best-case scenario.

Because they wasted time and it’s Bobby’s fault. In every sense, that day, as before. They wasted time, a time that will never come back. And even if the doctors have been explicit, even if he knows those complications painfully by heart, those consequences, now more than he knew them before, with his work, with his previous life, he wants to ignore them.

Eddie definitely doesn’t want to think about the consequences, the complications, those horrible names they have, as they ring deep in his head. Because he is sure he has seen at least two or three symptoms of two or three different complications in an ambulance, and he doesn’t have the courage to remember. All that blood will cloud his nightmares for the rest of his life, that noise, that strangled noise of his breaking breath, his cough, will be forever in his mind, will accompany him for the rest of his life. And this is enough for him to have his sleep ruined forever, to no longer be able to work, to end up drifting, astray, he really doesn’t need to know anything else, to know more than he already knows, that the situation is a great fat mess and one has limited chance of surviving all that shit that is thrown at him. He must not think of whose fault it is, as far as he knows perfectly well that it’s theirs, that is all their fault. Them, who stalled, who waited too much, who could find a solution, but actually couldn’t.

But if one can get by, if one can survive all of this, that’s Buck. And if he struggles, if he struggles then they must fight too. But he almost immediately stopped reacting to stimuli, his electroencephalography, has only a couple of curled waves. And if Eddie would listen to his rationality, maybe he’ll just accept what Maddie has already accepted: the machines are what is keeping him alive.

But Eddie, Eddie who always runs away, is in for this fight.

And whatever happens tomorrow, whether there is brain activity or not, his life will return as before, as before Evan, or not. And as much as he wants to stay in control, he wants to stay at the helm, for himself and for Christopher, it’s so hard. Because if he loses Evan, he’ll lose himself a bit more.

He already lost himself, a part of himself when the doctors came back that fateful day, when hell broke loose and Evan stopped breathing in the ambulance.

The doctors, an elderly sixty-something doctor with the solemn posture of someone who has seen these things a time too many, and a young surgeon instead, almost like a young girl just out of med school, with the flat and dim and tired expression of someone that puts everything she has in the job, they were very direct. They spoke with Maddie and with him the first time, and every subsequent time, with a certain kindness, they listened with kindness to the questions, which only Maddie asked, extremely punctual and technical, while grasping at Eddie’s hand firmly .

They talked about complications, all with high-sounding and frightening names. They spoke about pneumothorax, pleural effusion, a perforated and collapsed lung, they spoke of respiratory and cardiac arrest. They talked about further surgeries, which were necessary, but he was too fragile back then, he and his athletic six feet tall body was too fragile and might not survive. They spoke about saturation, about pressure, spills, transfusions, and cardiac activity. They talked about the need to defibrillate him, several times, because at least twice he flatlined but came back, Evan came back. They spoke about ataxia, hypotension, fluids that have accumulated in the chest cavity, and something that has a chilling and frightening name, something that concerns the brain and doesn’t give much hope, hypoxia. They talked about damage to vital organs, heart, and lungs. They spoke about the accumulation of smoke.

And they used, they still use, all those medical terms that are monotonous on paper only, but they are so fucking scary. They talked about coma, before he even went into a coma, about how his body could have reacted to all that stress, about how normal it is that, after a resuscitation, the body gives up and goes into reset. And later, sometime after that first surgery, after that chain of long operations, to bring him back without any success, they talked about solutions, to disconnect the machines, to donate the organs, to let him go.

And Eddie remembers, the sound of Maddie’s breath, her breath that broke between her teeth, as she collapsed on him and sobbed softly. When the possibility of never having him back with them has become increasingly palpable.

She who has been a nurse in a previous life and knows, knows what this means. Something Eddie doesn’t want to think about.

The young surgeon who then hastened to say more, her voice still heavy, of tiredness and shared pain, a pain that perhaps, with a little hope, she might not know as well as them.

They had stabilized him, she said.

And Eddie remembers having wrinkled his nose, and if he still thinks about it his eyes burn, because it’s clear that Evan still wants to fight today, that he is so strong and resilient, and… and…

But Eddie already knew then what they meant, even before entering there in that little room, even before hell broke loose and that... that he...

They had stabilized him to give him time.

They had stabilized him to give Evan time to recover before the next surgery.

They had stabilized him to give them time. That’s it, that’s how it sounded, and how it sounds in retrospect, as if that were the right time to bid their goodbyes, that maybe Evan would hear them say goodbye.

They said more, back then, but Eddie didn’t want to listen. Or maybe he heard, but he didn’t have the courage to process all that amount of information.

Thankfully, even now, when the doctors talk, they also talk to Maddie, and therefore he can’t listen, he can silence rationality and think only about Evan, abandoned in a bed in a long-term intensive care unit. And now even if he doesn’t want to listen, he knows the percentages and how they thin out every day that he is there on the bed, unconscious. Of how his response to medicines, to stimuli, to everything else, of how unique and different each patient is, and how young and strong Evan is.

But basically, the more time passes, the more it is difficult for him to return.

Eddie doesn’t have the courage to hope.

Indeed, he always tries to listen to that voice, his rationality, which mutters in his head. That he is intubated, and that can further aggravate his already precarious situation, as far as he knows, that he probably won’t wake up, they can talk, not him. But he can hear, like abuelo, he can hear. And Eddie hopes that Evan’s brain lights up like the night of the 4th of July, like in that article, every time he hears his voice, as well as all his loved ones’.

And every time it’s like the first time he got in there. Each time it’s like the first. Even today, of all the other days.

The first time he stayed three steps behind, he followed the doctors and Maddie over the panic door of the surgical intensive care unit. Evan had just come out of an operating room, after hours of surgery, and therefore they got them disinfected, and that smell entered Eddie’s skin in that moment and never went away, and the surreal heat of that place crushed his chest, and still steals all the air from his lungs, every step was heavy, every step is heavier than the previous one, today as then.

In a medication room, a nurse helped them get prepared. Now this is no longer the practice, now that he is in another unit, but Eddie still disinfects his hands every time he goes to him. No longer follows the protocol of the SICU, he doesn’t have to wear gown, gloves and cover shoes, mask and cap, Evan’s situation is stable there, but they had to follow a much more strict protocol in the post-surgery to limit the germs that can be brought in there, in such a delicate space.

Eddie let her go in first, and Maddie, and walked behind her, with his head down because he didn’t have the courage to look, because he knew already know what he would see.

And every time it’s like this, and every time he doesn’t want to see him like that. He would never have wanted to find himself in this position, standing in a fucking hospital, waiting, hearing all those horrible words bubbling in his head in a chilling echo.

And every time before entering, he feels his knees fail, and he clearly remembers the strangled sound of Maddie’s hiccups when she first entered. He can feel his fingers tremble and tears in his eyes, every single fucking time. And every time he doesn’t focus on Evan, he doesn’t focus on what’s on the bed, he doesn’t even look at the bed, maybe he sees it, but he doesn’t perceive it.

Evan is perhaps the human embodiment of the concept of enthusiasm, vitality, joy. He manages to bring incredible light wherever he goes, he bonds with anyone, he is always so radiant. That’s it, Evan is the sun, he is the sun and all the stars, and it’s all this and much much more. Eddie doesn’t even have the words, the right property of language to describe him. He doesn’t even want to find them, the right words, in all honesty, he’s something transcendent. Transcendent is the right word. Evan is like a concept, a concept behind Eddie’s sanity.

And maybe Eddie has a lot of that fear and devastation in his eyes, even today, after all those days, weeks, months, there is nothing but devastation and dread, anxiety, his breath burns in the back of his throat, which tightens, and the voice that gets caught in the vocal cords every time, in that exact moment before crossing the threshold.

And then he enters, slowly.

A step.

He focuses on the noise of his shoes, which almost creak on the linoleum. He doesn’t hear anything else, he doesn’t even hear the noise of the machines, the heart monitor, the ventilator, he doesn’t hear anything else because he has his heart that hammers in his ears, that fills his head. He feels his own breath, he feels himself living, he feels his life running through his veins, and Evan’s running away with every step, in that painful limbo.

A step.

Evan is no longer colourful, no longer flamboyant, no longer cheerful, no longer noisy, no longer enthusiastic. He is no longer him. That’s not Evan, on the bad, it is some kind of ghost.

Eddie focuses on hearing the sound of his own heart, he feels his jugular throbbing against the collar of the shirt he wears. He feels himself living, and he feels like dying at the same time, his breath that becomes shorter screeching at the beck of the throat.

If he was alone, back then, when he entered there, in that other little room in the SICU the first time, he would never have been able to stay there, to enter, if Maddie hadn’t been there, Eddie would never have entered alone. Because Eddie is someone who runs away, someone who runs and lets his fears get the upper hand. And this is perhaps one of his biggest fears. Yet perhaps, in his heart, he would never have found the courage to leave. Perhaps he would simply be annihilated in his own dread.

And there is no sound in that room, besides Eddie’s heart beating fast, rumbling in his head, in his ears, murmuring on his neck. There is no noise, or perhaps there is, in that almost sacred and silent environment that looks like a chapel.

The room is very small, and it smells like disinfectants. In front of the door there is a long and thin window, that takes horizontally almost the entire wall, and in the morning it lets in a soft natural light.

The air is thick and smells of medicines and something ferrous and sweetish.

He moves his gaze from one wall to the other, against which is placed the white bed. It’s only with extreme slowness, that Eddie drinks in, every time, all the details of the room. The canary yellow dye that breaks into a thick white strip, to then turn straw yellow to the ceiling. The metal arm to which the various bags full of transparent solutions are attached full, each bag releases droplets at different times, at a very precise and distinct rhythm. The cardiac monitor tracks time in a very particular way. The ventilator that roars, the sound of the pump rising and falling and pushing air into his lungs.

It is strange how Eddie perceives things, he doesn’t identify immediately Evan, lying in that bed. He knows and doesn’t know at the same time what he will see. Like the first time he went into that other room, and looked at him, but he didn’t really see him, not immediately.

Now the room is more colourful. On the walls there’s a patchwork of Christopher’s drawings, on a thin shelf there are books for children and something that Chim and Hen are certainly reading to him, scientific publications, magazines of all sorts, and a vase with flowers, always fresh and colorful which abuela brings every Tuesday and Pepa changes every Friday. There is an unspecified number of stuffed animals, which Christopher brings him when he knows he won’t be able to stay long, and will have to leave him alone, and he doesn’t like to leave his Bucky alone. There’s that multicoloured patchwork duvet that Athena brought him to make his bed more welcoming. There are pictures, of May in college with a large group of friends, of Nia who is now older and chasing Hen and Karen’s dog with Denny, of Harry with Michael grilling ribs on the Grant house patio, of Christopher’s latest science fair, complete with a blue first prize cockade attached nearby. There are all the moments that he’s lost. Maddie keeps a journal and leaves it there, open for everyone’s update.

And after appreciating each time a small, new addition, without wanting to, because he is one who runs away, for the hills, approaches the bed, one step after another, and the sound that reaches his head is now the cardiac monitor’s that keeps telling him, that keeps reminding him that Evan is alive. Is alive. Is alive. Is alive. Is alive. Is alive…

It doesn’t look like him, that thing on the bed, doesn’t look like him. Because the hospital changes you, it changes you as soon as you enter, but at the same time it’s him. And he’s been there for so long, that his hair is long and all curly, and opaque, a thin veil of beard caresses his now sharper profile.

He is there.

He is simply there in a bed that looks just barely longer than he is, that looks like a cage for a bird, unable to fly away.

Evan is intubated. And when a patient is unable to breathe for himself intubation may provide lifesaving airflow, oxygen. However, the process itself is painful and carries its own risks, and ventilator adjustments are important for reducing lung injuries. There’s always the same nurse, a old caring woman, who takes care of him, that provides clinical management for him, that monitors his vital signs frequently, and adjusts the levels of oxygen, and uses a moistened gauze over his eyes. She is so patient and caring with him, that Eddie’s heart aches every time he sees her. And with her wrinkled face she shots Eddie a bright soft smile and murmurs something along the line of a blessing, because he is still fighting, he is still struggling all the way back home. And Eddie hopes that she’s right, that Evan is coming back home with him.

But when the old nurse leaves, he focuses on something else, he tries to remember that he can’t hope, that he must not hope because hope is scary, hope hurts. And he doesn’t have this luxury, they don’t have this luxury. Yet he is selfish and hopes, he hopes he won’t have to grow old without him, he doesn’t have to spend another night alone, he hopes he won’t have to tell his son, that maybe loves his Bucky more than Eddie, that his Bucky won’t come back, he hopes he won’t have to put the pieces of his broken heart in a bottle, he hopes to have more time. Time to live with him.

He moves his gaze and every time the first thing you can record is that big needle that keeps him connected to those bags hanging nearby, and every now and then moves gradually on the length of his arm, leaving a constellation of bluish bruises on his skin.

Evan’s hands, his wrists, his arms, Evan himself seems so slender, so thin, so tiny in that bed he hardly fits in. The skin is paper-thin, especially the skin on his hands is so fucking thin like tissue paper, almost transparent and the veins are swollen and bluish on the backs. The tattoos look like marbling streaks in alabaster, his birthmark seems extremely darker, on that skin so pale, almost whitish, and the always dark circles, always swollen, under his eyes are like bruises.

Eddie sits nearby, usually in that shoddy metal and plastic chair, but sometimes he has the courage to sit on the bed, near his bad leg, he touches his hand with his fingertips and barely intertwines their fingers, with a delicacy that perhaps he only used with Christopher when he was just born.

Eddie never has the perception of how long he stays there, sitting, with shortness of breath, the air that burns at the bottom of his throat, the silence that is pure noise in there, that absence that rains down on him every time, even if Evan is there, within his reach but at the same time miles away. But then he starts talking to him slowly, because maybe if he can hear Eddie, Evan finds his way home, he speaks to him slowly, sweet nothings or something more deep. He doesn’t know what he tells him, really, but at least he must have changed a bit what he said at the beginning. That constant apology, that constant murmur of not having been enough, of not having done enough. In all senses, but perhaps Evan doesn’t even think it, that Eddie didn’t do enough in all senses: that he didn’t love him enough, that he didn’t support him enough and not only that day, but all the others times.

And he talks and talks and talks. His voice an indistinct murmur for his ears, his lips against the almost transparent skin of his hand, and he looks at him, Evan sleeping and not sleeping at the same time. Once upon a time seeing him sleep was a source of unspeakable joy, being able to see him at a time when his defences were all lowered, where he was abandoned in a peaceful sleep, his neck relaxed, his jaw soft, the small expression that occasionally ruffled his forehead only a memory.

And Eddie hopes, every single time he sits there, that it will happen again. That what happened the first time he entered that small room in the SICU, he hopes it will happen again and permanently this time, that Evan will open his eyes and look at him and never go away.

“Come back to me,” he murmurs on his knuckles, against his swollen bluish veins, under that transparent veil of paper-thin skin. “I need you”.

The other time Evan had grasped his hand, as if to stop those words that gushed like a waterfall from his mouth, apologies, remorse, fears. Eddie remembers losing all his words, forgetting the thread of the speech, a hope that sprouted in his heart. For that moment, at that moment, it didn’t matter, everything Eddie didn’t do to help him, to make him feel loved, to make him happy, it only mattered that he was stirring slowly, that he was waking up slowly. He remembers his voice as he tried to get him back to him, broken, all trembling, loving and kind, and something different, something more. And those small movements, very weak, under the eyelids, were their little miracle. And he remembers Maddie gasping softly, all tearing up.

That time, months, weeks, days ago, Evan opened his eyes. And it was the last time Eddie saw those eyes. His kind eyes, yet so different from the usual. Evan opened them slowly, with a disarming, painful effort. The inside of the eyelids was marked with an unnatural and bruised red, the irises were pale blue, almost greyish. But when Evan saw the two them in the periphery of his visual field, he seemed to smile: he who smiles with his whole body, his face that lights up, even if in that moment he could move only his eyes, he was smiling. Eddie and Maddie could have said that he was smiling.

He remembers the total absence of any noise coming from him, not even a slight groan, suffocated, and Eddie could remember thinking that he was awake, yeah, yet miles away. A concern rose in Eddie’s throat, in the back of his head, swelled in his chest and to which he hadn’t wanted to give name, to listen. Evan was clinging to him, yet his grip was so weak, it was like he was about to let go. And an impossible fear mounted deep in his whole body, something similar to what he had felt back in the ambulance. It was as if, as if... but he had decided not to think about it, to talk to him constantly, to tell him everything he could to convince him, to make him stay there, stay there with him, with them.

But it had been only a handful of minutes, his and Maddie’s voices a constant fond murmur, because he was awake, he had managed to come back, which got lost in an echo of beeps and screeching sounds, the same sounds that did the cardiac monitor in the ambulance.

And he will never forget the way Evan stiffened a second later, collapsing. And the world collapsed on Eddie. And, before they could do anything else, he and Maddie had been tossed out.

All those complications, all those ominous words, all those horrible eventualities. And trivially the voice of his rationality murmured in the back of his head, that he could only get worse.

The swirling of voices, the confusion still fills his ears, the high-pitched whistle of the cardiac monitor that goes further and further, but still pungent, while a nurse accompanies them outside those panic doors, will always remain with him, he will darken his dreams until his last breath.

And days, weeks have passed and Eddie is so tired, so tired of sleeping alone, so tired of not being able to hear his voice, and he’s so afraid of not remembering everything, of not being able to remember every single thing that Evan did for him, every single moment they shared, every tiny bit of their short love. And he is afraid that if he stops watching videos, hearing voicemails, he will forget his voice, the way his words roll up on his tongue, the feeling of his lips on him. He forgot about the science museum, already, he already forgot him.

And so, this time, slowly, as if it’s their last long goodbye Eddie speaks to him what he doesn’t really want to give voice.

And when he looks up and sees him, so pale and thin, so dull, Eddie feels like an empty shell too. A piece of himself will go away even with this infinite farewell, in a whisper of smoke. And Eddie hates himself because nothing is sure, maybe tomorrow they’ll know that Evan is still experiencing something, that his brain reacts on a different substrate, he just needs more time, he always sleeps like a rock so, maybe… maybe he can still hope.

And there’s so much left to say, there’s so much more he would say, but…

“I love you” he murmurs softly his lips on his forehead “I always will”. And in Eddie’s ears it sounds like grief. I’ll never love like this again. But he doesn’t want to tell him this, he wants to be like his abuela, comforting him, and not actually bid him farewell.

He kisses his forehead slowly, before leaving. Christopher told him that if Bucky is like Sleeping Beauty, then a kiss is enough to wake him up and every time he hopes it is enough, that suddenly he wakes up in a somewhat theatrical and dramatic way, a little cliché, like the romantic movies, like Hallmark movies, like Disney fairy-tales.

And when he leaves, he leaves him there, in that bed and today breathing is harder than usual.

A/N:

If you reached the end of this chapter, you are now (and again, I hope?) my favourite person! Before the usual closing rituals, can I be brutally honest with you? I imagined this chapter way differently in its first draft. I have it written in two (three, lets be honest, there are 3 different drafts of this chapter here) and none of them were of my taste. I don't think this version is better than the others, but I had to chose if I should have posted a middle, passageway chapter, right after the "incident", or something like a time jump chapter. It occurred to me that while I was writing the second draft I didn't have a line of dialogue in its whole 10k words, you can imagine how I panicked *ahahah*. In the end I opted for this solution that's somewhere in between the other two(?). I'm not a fan of telling and not showing things, but I guess I'll have to set my heart on this half show & half tell (???) thing XD So, please let me know if this is as shitty as I think it is (it probably is). I don't think it is clear enough in some points, and maybe a little heavy in the narrative (and that's more likely the case XD).

As always, stay safe and take care of you!

tagging @buckleystrand; @sparksfly-buddie; @chrrlees; @lieselfh and whoever wants to be tagged!

#buddie fic #9 1 1 fic #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #heavy angst #angst with happy ending #trust me i'm a sucker for happy endings #there will be one #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #established relationship #major character injury #lamalefixwrites #freaking long thing #over 10k words #sorry this isn’t that good #let's be real

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naturepointstheway · 5 years ago

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“beanies and cameras” (Life is Strange, quick fluff fic)

Some fluffy, mushy indulgence in a Life is Strange fic? Hell yes, and I’m not sorry. Let’s write this “mushy nonsense” (as Chloe would say) before I procrastinate it so far that it’s like Christmas Day before I write it ;) Inspired strongly by learning what happened to Chloe and Max in the second season of LiS (only through the playthroughs on the interwebs though, but that didn’t make me any less excited and emotional!)

Summary: It is the morning of New Year’s 2020, and for once, Chloe is up early with Max, watching the early dawn light.

Chloe has never been one to respect benches and tables, and this morning was no different as Max walks in to the kitchen, yawning, to find Chloe sitting on the bench, legs tapping against the cupboard under the bench, nursing a steaming mug of coffee in her hands. Max has seen Chloe framed in golden hour’s light many, many times, and it still takes her breath away to see how the fragile winter sunlight catches in her blonde hair and softens the outline of her face.

“Did you make coffee for me, at least?” Max asks as she walks into the kitchen to give Chloe a morning kiss.

“The kettle’s just boiled, help yourself.” Chloe jerks her head at the kettle next to her, putting down her mug, bending to wrap her arms around Max’s shoulders. “Happy New Year, Max. A new decade, a new us, right?”

Max always marvelled at how warm Chloe was when she held her close, no matter how cold it was outside or inside.

“Happy New Year back at ya,” Max murmurs, closing her eyes to sink into Chloe’s embrace. “Hope you’re ready to get mushy. I dare you to out-mush me.”

Chloe pulls back, arms still draped over Max’s shoulders, grinning down at her in the morning light. “If you make that a double dare, I’ll take it.”

Max laughs gently, pressing up against the bench, arms still wrapped around her girlfriend’s waist, Chloe’s legs resting against her sides. “I double dare you to out-mush me, and no take-backs.”

Chloe pulls a face, but her eyes sparkle even as she pretends to shudder. “Ugh. Okay, dare taken.”

“I can see some things never change though,” Max nods at the bench Chloe’s sitting on, “Like your total disregard for surfaces people prepare and eat food from. Dude, you’re like twenty-five, not fourteen anymore! Shouldn’t you be--”

"Nope, I’m not gonna stop till I turn thirty.”

Max rolls her eyes, but she can’t stop the smile in her eyes as she reaches up to tuck a strand of Chloe’s hair behind her ear, fingers lingering in soft blonde strands. She lets her hand rest briefly against the side of Chloe’s face.

“At least you’ve stopped saying hella every other sentence.”

“Excuse me, I was a teenager, give my limited teen-self’s vocab a break. I kinda miss your wowsers though.”

“So cringe-worthy, don’t remind me of that, Chloe.”

“Didn’t make it any less adorable.”

“And you’re still wearing that same beanie since you were nineteen.”

“Sixteen, actually,” Chloe corrects her, “And it’s still doing its job now, why would I throw it away if it still works?”

“Hey, you look adorable with that beanie, not knocking it.”

“You better not, Max. And you still have your old camera bag.”

Max grins. “Hey, it still works, right, like the camera itself?”

“I swear, that camera is immortal. I don’t even remember how long my dad had it for. Probably even before either of us were born.”

“Still works like a charm. Film’s getting more expensive though. Maybe I should try my hand at digital for once. At least I can see if a shot is shit or not, all without wasting precious film.”

Chloe’s fingers idly scratched Max’s shoulders, the latter feeling little goosebumps rise on her arms at the pleasant touch.

“Hey, I’m sure we can find something sweet somewhere, you’re the camera whisperer after all.”

“Not as many selfies, either. Maybe I just don’t feel such a need anymore, now that I have you with me.”

“Hey, we still take selfies!”

“At least you’re in them now--they don’t feel as lonely anymore. And you know me--Max Caulfield never misses an opportunity to take a picture with Chloe Price. Ever.”

“And you better not forget it,” Chloe comments, Max stepping back as she finally gets off the bench. “Ever.”

“We’re always going to be together, right?”

“Duh, Supermax, of course we are. We’re always Max and Chloe, remember?” Chloe reaches over to her coffee, cupping it in her hands as she takes another drink. “Except for when...you know...”

Max winces, looks down at her feet, knowing she shouldn’t still feel guilty about the five years of radio silence, but still...

“I’m--”

“Nope. Stop feeling guilty, already, Max, that’s all in the past, right? 2020 is the decade of leaving that guilt behind. We’re gonna more than make up for it, not we already haven’t.”

“How’d you know--”

“Because no matter what, even at twenty-four, you’ve still got a bit of that old Max from before you left for Seattle. Though I’m glad you got rid of that ponytail.”

Max can’t help a laugh, a hand reaching up to her short hair, tucking some of it behind her ears. “Yeah, that ponytail was gone like six weeks into Seattle, believe me.”

“Poor Seattle still had to endure six weeks of your ponytail. That’s just horrific, Max, how could you.”

“Oh shut up,” Max grumbles playfully, now moving to a cupboard to take out a cup, grabbing the kettle to prep some coffee for herself. “You still look amazing with long hair, not that you didn’t with your hairstyle back when you were nineteen.”

“Yeah, I prefer long hair anyway.” Chloe shrugs, takes a long, final swig from her cup. “That hairstyle has too many bad memories attached anyway, so...”

Max breaks away for a moment from her coffee-making to take one of Chloe’s hands, interlacing their fingers, squeezing tight.

“I don’t know if I can get too mushy about the last ten years, Max. I mean...”

“I liked Seattle, but to be honest, I never felt completely whole without you, if that makes sense? It sounds so cliche, but...”

“Nah, not at all. Rachel filled that gap for a while, but...” Chloe takes Max’s other hand in hers. “Only when we reunited did I really feel whole again. I really missed you, Max, you have no fucking idea. And seeing your beautiful freckled face again alone literally healed half my soul again. I felt like a total kid again just seeing your gorgeous...Maxiness.”

Max gives Chloe a playful nudge. “Ah, we’re already getting mushy. Mushy Chloe is best Chloe.”

“That’s because you’re a goop.”

“Go on, Chloe, admit you like being a goop.”

“Never.”

“I double dare you to admit it.”

Chloe lets go of Max’s hands, folds her arms with a defiant shake of her head. “Not that easy.”

“Double dog dare you.’

“Hell no.”

“By the time this decade’s out, you’ll be ready to admit you like being all mushy and goopy. Calling it now.”

Chloe raises an eyebrow, seeming to grow taller as she looks down at Max with her piercing blue eyes.

“By the time this decade’s out, I’ll still deny I like getting mushy with you.” Chloe unfolds her arms, reaches out to tuck Max’s hair behind her ears, letting her hands drift from cupping Max’s face to resting on either side of her neck, palms warm against Max’s skin.

“We’ll have to see then, won’t we?” Max comments, hands now resting again on Chloe’s hips, closing her eyes as she leans up for a tender, lingering morning kiss, a small smile on her lips as Chloe’s kisses wander from her lips to trace down the curve of her neck. She feels Chloe’s lips still at the base of her neck, breath tickling Max’s skin, sending little shivers of pleasure through her.

“Any plans for the decade ahead?” Max whispers, eyes still closed as she presses herself up against Chloe, feeling how warm she is even in the chilly winter morning. “Maybe I’ll be a world-reknown photographer.”

“You mean you will be,” Chloe murmurs, hands moving to hold Max even closer. “Stop being so goddamn humble, I keep telling ya.”

“I know, I know.”

“Maybe I’ll be ready to go back and find a university to finally get a degree.”

“Science degree?” Max murmurs as she leans her head on Chloe’s shoulder, not daring to open her eyes, wanting to stay in this moment forever.

“Duh, Max, of course it’ll be a science. Maybe I’ll learn to love chemistry again.”

“Ugh. The only chemistry I like is ours.”

“Hey, even girlfriend chemistry involves chemistry. It’s just...biochemistry...chemistry.”

“Still not converted, sorry,” Max smiles into Chloe’s shoulder, gives her a quick little kiss through the cloth of her pyjamas. “Love you anyway.”

“We’re gonna kick ass and take down names this decade, Max, and no one’s gonna stop us, come high hell or heaven.”

“Damn right you are.”

We’ll always be together, and I’m always going to be okay with that. We’ll always be Max and Chloe. Forever.

#Life is Strange #quick little fanfic #Max Caulfield #Chloe Price #Pricefield

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space-blue · 4 years ago

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The Wolf of Tales

If you are brave, and venture in the world's wilderness, you can cross the Wolf's path and marvel at his tall shoulder, his golden eyes, and the thickness of his pelt. But the Wolf of tales is no simple Canis Lupus. He is the loss of innocence, the end at the end of all roads, night after day, death after birth, he is the moment of change in the cycles of life. He is, in short, an institution. You might fear or hate him, but you cannot avoid meeting him.

For all his conceptual existence, the Wolf, on that day, hungers. Spring is still young, and he has not been lucky. He's walked much and ate little. He lays in a ray of sun by a stream to rest his weary bones, when a high voice appears and grows, singing a simple song. A child enters the clearing, twirling in the young grass and plucking flowers as she goes.

The Wolf beckons, using his softest voice. Curiosity brings the singer to him.

'Child, what is this I smell? Pie? Sausages? Will you spare one for a starving animal?'

The girl peers down at him. She wears a peasant's apron dress, blond locks spill from an old-fashioned hood. On her arm is the wicker basket that is the source of the delightful aromas.

'I canna do that, they're for my Gran, who lives all the way down the forest road, Ma sent me.'

'You will not spare a single sausage to keep me from dying? Do you have no heart?'

The girl shrugs, jostling her golden curls. 'Ma says it's for Gran, not strangers.'

The wolf rises then, his eyes burning with contained fury.

'If you won't hear the cries of mercy, what about the simpler call of threat?' He shows teeth, his mane bristling on his neck.

The girl frowns, but swings her basket behind her, and tries to look at him down her nose, a task made difficult by the fact that he's rather taller than her.

'No's no, mister!'

'Do you not know who I am?' The Wolf asks, incredulous.

'Are you famous?'

'Famous?' He snorts. 'Child, cemeteries the world over are monuments raised in my name. Does your hearth have no fire, that you never heard whispers of my deeds?'

'I'd no idea we've such a neighbour!' she squeaks.

The Wolf chokes on his protest. He's noone's neighbour. He passes through this forest like he passes through the world, but there is little to be gained by confusing her further.

'It's alright,' he says, more to himself than to the girl. But really it isn't. The child is too old to be this naive, and the Wolf hungers. 'So you truly won't give this to anyone but your Gran?'

She nods.

'How lucky she is, to have you come all this way for her!'

The child smiles, and brags of her many trips through the woods. It takes little prodding for the Wolf to get directions to the Grandmother's house, though they come with half the village's gossip. Seeing her collected flowers, he encourages her to follow the river a little ways to find daffodils and lilies of rare colours. She falls for it all, even thanks him. He ambles away, a smile on his canine lips, and soon is galloping through the underbrush.

The Wolf is half convinced he's lost before the trail finally turns into a path, that turns into a dirt road, that turns into the yard of a little house. Such a lost place! And not much to look at. The thatch is old and mossy, the walls lean on each other like drunks. There are no chickens in the coop, no cow on the grass, and the pond is fit for naught but a family of frogs. The Wolf gathers himself and stands up, looking like a stark young man, with a mop of silver hair and a fur coat (not all of the wolf can quite fit in all of the man). He steps to the door and knocks.

'Grandmother, open up!'

'Who is it?' comes an old voice from inside.

'I'm a hunter,' the Wolf says, 'been told you lived alone. I've more game than I need, so I thought you'd like a hare or two.'

'Pull the rope, hunter, and come in.'

The Wolf does as he's told, and the door unlocks and creaks open, revealing a small room, and in it an old crone, hunched over her knitting by a dim fire. She looks ancient, this woman, full of stories and tales and old adages. The Wolf cannot help but think that if she'd stayed and lived with her daughter, then her grandchild would not be so painfully innocent. The crone's eyes squint at his tall figure.

'Where is your game, hunter?'

'Oh, you're the game, Grandmama,' the Wolf says. 'Look at you. The reaper would have found you long ago, did you not live at the lost end of a lost road. Your time has long been up.'

The old woman's eyes widen, but she doesn't struggle as the Wolf grabs her chin and bends to kiss her wrinkled brow: she falls dead in his arms. Old folks rarely fight. They've heard the discreet patter of Death's footfall in their wake, when it lands off the beat of their own shuffling feet. Most welcome the end of such odious suspense.

The Wolf sets to work straight away. He strips the old woman and drapes himself in her rags, tying her shawl around his head and donning an old apron for the task ahead. He rends her flesh, works her bones and drains her blood. It is hard, messy work, as the crone is tough and dry. No amount of pies or sausages can make you tender past a certain age. Soon he worries he won't be done in time. But the little girl doesn't come until the Wolf is finished, tidied and ready, waiting by the fire, his belly filled and his mind wandering.

The knock rouses him.

'Gran, open up!'

'Who is it?' The Wolf calls in his best elderly voice.

'It's me, Gran, can't you tell?'

'Pull the rope, child, and come in.'

She does as she's told, and in comes the little girl, all dishevelled from running through the woods, her flowers in a large wreath, the basket hooked at her elbow. He welcomes her in, bids her to put her things aside, sits her and serves her a plate of meat, a glass of red (wine, he says) and watches her eat. The girl looks at him too, as she chews on her meal and drains her cup.

'What big eyes you have, Gran. And what strong hands!'

The Wolf says nothing, but refills her glass and smiles.

'What wide mouth you have, too!' she exclaims.

At that the Wolf barks an awful laugh. 'The better to mock you with, little dolt!'

The girl, dismayed, looks as the clothes fall away from the Wolf's shifting body. Claws click on the tabletop, the wine bottle topples and spills its ruby red content. The Wolf towers above her, dark and terrible, outlined as he is by the firelight.

'Are you surprised I'm not dead in some ditch, after you wouldn't feed me, not for all the whining I could muster? I'm quite sated now, thanks to your Grandmama. But I'm generous! I can share, unlike others. I saved you a bottle of her blood, and a slice of her flesh. How did you like it?'

The girl stares at him, then her plate, in horror.

'It is true, he killed her,' comes a voice, that of a bat, speaking from the rafters. 'I saw it.'

'It is true, you ate her,' comes a voice, that of a bird, speaking from the window. 'You git.'

She screams, jumps away from the table. She retches and cries. The Wolf watches the emotions that flash across her face: disbelief, rage, disgust, hatred, fear. Humanity.

'Here you are, my child,' the Wolf croons, 'all grown up at last.'

'Why?' she yells in a shattered voice.

'Because you're too old not to think for yourself!' he yells back. 'I pleaded but you would not be kind! I threatened but you would not compromise! Yet you're no infant, to not recognise danger when it crosses your road. You would not feed me, so I fed myself at your expense. You did not know me, but now consider us introduced.'

He strides towards her and colour drains from her face. 'Will you eat me, too?'

The Wolf laughs as he walks past. He stops in the door frame, glancing back at the trembling girl.

'You can tell your folks I tried, if it makes you feel better. Most do, some even say they cut themselves free of my belly. What matters is the lesson learnt, and besides,' his eyes glitter with cruel humour, 'I'm much too full as it is.'

~~ May 2016 – Theme : Well known fairytales from a different PoV

#original work #original story #competition #dark fantasy #little red riding hood

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straightouttaneptune · 5 years ago

Text

It girl pt. 3 - First training

Pairing: Mentor!Natasha Romanoff x Mentee!Reader, Platonic!Avengers x reader, Peter Parker x Reader (In the future)

Warning: Fluff with Mentor Nat, mention of family issues, a little low self-esteem reader :(

Summary: Natasha had once joked about picking a random new recruit trainee to teach all her skills since Tony had recently become Peter’s mentor. Fury sees this as a legitimate idea, and asks Natasha to choose her protège, code name: “it girl”.

Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

———————————————————————

“Hey, ‘it girl’.” As soon as you walked into the ginormous gym, Captain freaking America and another buff guy with the name ‘White Wolf’ stood in all their glory. And, to top it all off, you’re pretty sure Captain America called you an ‘it girl’.

“Oh, yeah. ‘It girl’ is your code name. I think a lot of people are gonna be calling you that.” Natasha smiled, walking in beside you.

“Steve, Barnes, meet Y/N. Y/N, Steve, and Barnes.”

“My name is Bucky, Bucky Barnes.” He eyed Natasha warningly before his eyes softened, smiling as he shook your hand. “If you need anything, I’ll be in the tower, Doll.” The metal arm didn’t surprise you, as you already read, watched and knew about every single Avenger.

“And I’m Steve.” Steve took your hand, squeezing with a grip of a supersoldier. “You must be very talented if Nat picked you.” You opened your eyes wider to take in his appearance, he was bigger, taller and cuter than you imagined. Too bad he was like 100 years old.

“Thank you- I, I’m so honored.” You couldn’t think of anything else to say, still star-struck. You only ripped your eyes from the two when Natasha called out from the boxing ring.

“Don’t steal my Y/N, Rogers!”

The combat training was going pretty well, you learned how to knock someone out with your thighs today. Weapons training was moderately good, you hit your target around 60% of the time.

But you weren’t in real training until Steve and Bucky left after teaching you the basics.

As soon as they left, Natasha worked the hell out of you. About 2 hours later, you were dying.

Your lungs felt like they were being squeezed and shoved around, you literally could not feel your legs, sweat rolled down your neck like a waterfall, and you were questioning yourself for agreeing to be recruited.

“Ms. Nat, I think I’m dying.” You laid down on the yoga mat, looking up at the bright ceiling feeling helpless.

“You did good, Y/N. I’m proud of you.” Natasha’s voice toned down at the last sentence, so quiet that is was almost like a whisper. But you heard it, and it fills your heart up with pride.

“Thank you.” You restored the energy to sit up, grabbing your water bottle and chugging down the remaining liquid.

She chuckled from her spot at the boxing ring, leaning against one of the pillars in the corner. “How do you feel now?” She jumped out of the ring, walking up to you.

“It feels amazing. Unreal, I just...” You broke eye contact with her, gaze moving to look out of the glass wall. “I don’t know if I deserve to be here.” It was now your turn to quiet down, gaze falling onto your shoes.

“Hey, Y/N?” Natasha sat down beside you and placed her hand on your head, caressing it until you looked up again into her eyes.

“You’re here because you do deserve to be here. Sometimes, when we just keep seeing super-soldiers and Gods being heroes, we forget that there are heroes that live among us. I saw what you did in that shop the other day. You’re special.” Her features were soft, accepting and warming, something you desperately sought in your whole life. Your mother was a sweet lady, but her attention was always, constantly on your father, who never came home. She’s never really looked at you.

Your eyes turned glassy, tears welling up. Never in your life did you think that you’d find a sense of belonging, acceptance, comfort in the woman you’ve only met 2 times. But she was someone who’d say that she was proud of you, who’d give you a chance to be a part of something.

“Hey. Come on, Wanda baked cookies this morning.” She stood up and extended her hand to you, and you happily took it. By the time you stepped out of the gym, the smile had already returned to your face.

“Hey! There’s the ‘it girl’ I keep hearing about!” In the kitchen were Wanda Maximoff, Sam Wilson and Vision. Wanda was the first one to run up to you, pulling you in for a hug. The scent of roses tickled your nose, probably from her shampoo.

She let you go and looked over at Natasha, sending her a look of approval.

“I’m Wanda, this is Vision and that’s Sam.” The robot-looking human waved, and the falcon, or Sam, gave you a high five.

“I’m Y/N. Great to meet you guys.” You flashed them a smile while you deduced everything about them while they were distracted. The Avengers were interesting, and no harm in studying a little bit about them, right?

Wanda went off into the kitchen to grab her cookies, which she offered more than you could eat. While Nat made some calls, you hung out with the three of them for a while, stuffing your face with Wanda's delicious snacks. You bonded with them, especially Wanda with her age being closer to yours than anyone else in the building. The four of you gossiped endlessly about the Avengers until Natasha came in with Tony Stark around 6:30pm.

"Well, well, well, kid. You must be the famous Y/N." Tony revealed his striking brown eyes as he ripped his sunglasses off. You nodded and he shook your hand politely, looking up and down at you. "You look exceptional. No wonder they call you 'it girl'." He let go of your hand and again, you were met with this warm sensation of being accepted. You guessed that the Avengers had that effect on people.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark. You look dazzling as well." You played with your words graciously, commenting on Tony's million-dollar tailored suit.

"I like you." He nodded to himself and patted Natasha on her back affectionately. You didn't miss Natasha's small smirk of contentment.

"Anyways, the car's here for you. You'll be sent home with the spider-ling, though, I hope you don't mind." He checked his wristwatch and made a quick exit, and you waved goodbye to your 3 new friends then walked with Natasha to the main door.

"I see a lot of myself in you, Y/N. Come back tomorrow, I think Thor and Bruce'll be back by then." She pushed you towards the waiting car, standing back at the entrance with Tony.

"Be safe." She whispered as she watched the car drive away, oblivious to the commotion happening in the car.

"Y/N?!" "Peter?!"

"You're it girl??" "You're spider-man?!"

“You know, I heard that.” Tony side-eyed Natasha, while she gave him a death glare.

“They start to grow on you, don’t they?” Tony called out at Natasha as she walked away, he knew that you’d be a vital part of Natasha’s life in no time. Just like how that spider-ling of his became the son Tony never thought he’d have.

“That’s why you had the Stark internship?!”

“Well, yeah, it’s not exactly an internship...”

“Did a spider bite you too?”

“A spider bit you?!!”

Next chapter: Part 4

Taglist: @mindset-jupiter @fangirlingisajob @theadventurousqueen@gwenmxnstacy @ballerboobitch @the-lady-cersei-lannister @golden–rain@dollofbucky @sakuranomegami @elizabeth-santana-98 @anne2cold@eyeballtoes @marvel-is-a-mood @roseryss @redqueenstorm @orchideax@huntersociopathavenger @petertinglessss @marv-ells@hopefuloperaangelnerd @je11yfishwriter @iloveyou3000morgan @kewl-r@missmulti @grace-barnes-13 @samarcher79 @slow-dance-in-the-dark @intricate-melody @editsbyjenny @brenleestar @a-vvenger @princessizzy36

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squiddytentacles · 5 years ago

Photo

Tree Trouble

“Sandy and Karen combine minds to help get Sandy out of serious trouble from an experiment.”

Karen/Sandy, Gen, 3,500 words

“Well, shoot,” Said Sandy as she wiped some dust off of her gloves and boots. “That was closer than a bull at a glue convention!” To really get a look at the damage she was talking about, the squirrel had to take a few large steps back.

Her beloved Tree no longer standing. A pile of splintered wood, broken belongings, and branches. She had been standing in the bathroom just moments before she heard an unfamiliar creaking. Upon investigating she found a Nematode, she put two and two together and high-tailed it out of her house. The foundations had been weakened, and chose that moment to completely give out.

Unharmed by the wreckage, her scientific equipment stands still running the tests she’d programmed it to run on some new fauna she’d come across recently. The specimen must have been housing a family of Nematodes. Too blinded by the prospect of a meal to realize they’d dry out without Ocean water, hopping out of the experiment tank, and doing their business before quietly passing away.

Sandy can’t feel too sympathetic, they destroyed her house!

KEEP READING (ao3)

A lifetime of scouting taught Sandy to always be prepared. And growing a new Tree ain’t no thing. The pests hadn’t survived long enough to entirely eat through her valuables. What wasn’t completely wrecked could be fixed. It would be time consuming, and frustrating, but she’s wrangled far worse.

She clears what she can salvage out of the wreckage, buries the Nematodes. She needs advanced hardwear to dig the roots of the deceased Tree out of the ground, but she succeeded - pushed some dirt around, planted an acorn and patted herself on the back. “Nothing can stop this country girl!” She shouts.

One of her experiments is even focused around sped up growth in plant life! With a small flair of dramatics, she pulls out her latest concoction. It glows purple, and bubbles - unleashing a putrid smell. “The Essence of Manure,” Sandy says to herself, grinning. The scent was so awful, it even drove her to put on her Sea Suit. Glass is a blessing.

“Alright, little acorn, bottoms up!” She pours the entire test tube, and takes a few rather large steps back.

Her tail twitches in anticipation.

She wants a place to sleep tonight…

The ground begins to shake and Sandy grins, steadying herself is easy. She plants her feet firmly in the grass. “Grow!!” She shouts. “GROOOOOW!!”

And so it does.

It’s a sapling, and suddenly, the base of the newly sprouted tree widens, and more branches sprout. Their first leaves fall, and just as suddenly, new blossoms appear. The taller it gets the more acorns appear - small, and misshapen. Sandy marvels at the effect, and soon the Tree is looking strong, and mighty.

Sandy sighs in accomplishment. She’d have to clear out the insides while maintaining the structure, but the part that took the longest was already done!

As it grows taller than ever before, though, Sandy questions if ‘done’ was the right word to use.

“What in Tarnation.. That’s enough!!” She shouts, hoping to reason the mutation? “Stop it, you incredible advancement in botany, you!” The leaves brush the top of the treedome, and just as Sandy was fearing. Branches start bending in line with the dome - and Sandy realizes that instead of growing up and breaking through the glass, the Tree was conforming to the space.

Which meant…. The Up that the tree was growing in was going to become Down, and Down is where she is. She sees the branches are starting to cover the door and she doesn’t waste a moment abandoning everything and sprinting to the airlock.

A glance behind her reveals how thick the bark is becoming, how sturdy it is forming as it crawls across the glass dome. A mess of brown and green leaves lay on the ground, but the soil beneath them gives out as the roots grow larger, and soon all Sandy can see is wood..

She thanks Neptune her diving suit is already on. With all her might, she pulls the branches out of the way of the doorknob before everything got entangled. They started growing back without a pause though, and she grinds her teeth. With a Texas sized roar, she heaves a large portion of the mutant tree off the door, giving herself a brief moment to escape the deathtrap her home was becoming.

Metal rings out as she slams the door shut behind her, and she runs through the other front door faster than you can say “is it wrong to play god?”.

From a safe distance, Sandy Cheeks witnesses her Tree completely encompass all the space in the treedome. It even spits out a bit through the door, slowed down, but not stopping. Sandy imagines for a moment that it grows to the size of the entire ocean and her brain scampers away from panic as she tries to think of ways to stop it.

She has tons of ideas, ways to counteract the mutation. The materials she needs however, are crushed in an impenetrable fortress of Pure Texan Bred Treebark.

“Dang nabbit.” She mutters to herself, and thinks about where she can get the items to scrap everything together when the most intelligent thought Sandy’s had all day comes to mind.

Karen has a lab.

Winded from how fast she ran, the squirrel has to take a moment to gather herself before approaching the entrance to the Chum Bucket. She knocks urgently. “You gotta let me in, it’s an emergency!!”

The door opens by itself- No, Plankton opens the door, looking irate. “Excuse me, some people are trying to SCHEME HERE.” He bellows as loud as he can, but Sandy rolls her eyes. She doesn’t have time to deal with Plankton’s showboating.

“Not now, Plankton, I gotta borrow your lab!” Sandy says, stepping over the copepod and into the restaurant.

Hopping up on Sandy’s shoulder, rather than running to keep up, Plankton knocks on the glass dome protecting Sandy’s head, “and you think I’m going to allow this... why?”

“Oh, I’m not really askin’ you.” The squirrel informs him, amused, and leads herself to the back of the Chum Bucket where the action really happens.

In fact, the very moment that Sandy steps foot into the Lab a screen that was showing a rather intense game of solitaire blinked into a pixel smile. “Oh, hey there, Sandy!” Came Karen’s electronic voice, seemingly from the entire room.

As much as Karen would proclaim that machines don’t feel anything, Sandy can’t help but always fixate on how happy Karen sounds to see her. She smiles back, just as Plankton starts grousing in her ear about how it’s HIS lab and so it’s HIS decision whether the squirrel gets to mess with HIS stuff-- and after a while where he won’t let Sandy get a word in edgewise, Karen extends an arm and plucks him off of her shoulder, and then lets that arm keep extending all the way out of the Chum Bucket.

“I’ll see you at dinner, Plankton!” She shouts out the door, and then her arm zips back to her side. There’s a shriek, and then a begrudging mumble of acceptance, and Sandy looks to where Karen has rolled near her, with her arms crossed and a question mark on her screen.

“What, your lab at home not good enough for ya all of the sudden?” She asks,

“There ain’t no you back home.” Sandy says with a weak laugh, partially to counter Karen’s dry tone, and partially in truth. Karen’s screen fizzles slightly, but Sandy misses it. “But I got a real problem growin’ back home.” She says, already running to gather the materials from Plankton and Karen’s impressive stock. “And I mean really growin’.” She fixes Karen with a wide eyed look to prove her point.

Then, she dives into a thorough explanation of what she needs to counteract the growth mutation the Acorn absorbed. Karen processed everything quickly, and even gave a few tips on things she could cut out of the formula to make the process go faster. Plankton may claim the lab is his, but it’s always been maintained by Karen, and she knows the place much better than he ever could.

With Sandy and Karen working together, they finish in two shakes of a cow’s tail. Sandy says as much, which gets a small laugh out of Karen. Sandy’s house might be destroyed, but it’s hard to feel bad after hearing a beautiful chime like that.

Together, they rush out of the Chum Bucket, over the sand hills over to the tangle of wood that was once the Treedome.

The glass had since shattered, and the Tree was growing every which way. She hopped on Karen and they rolled around the radius of the thing - to find that it was mighty close to Spongebob’s house a similar fate to hers at the beginning of this mess. Still rolling, she points to a branch extending tall enough she can climb on.

Karen, seeing the direction, speeds up, rolls in close, and then tosses Sandy up on the branch. The squirrel wasn’t expecting that much help, but she catches herself with two feet on the branch, and flashes Karen a thumbs up.

She starts climbing upward - the Tree from a distance looks more like an Urchin than anything else. Sandy wants to get as close to inside the center as she can - to find the heart of the Tree. Theoretically, pouring the new solution there would be a key to ending her mistake.

Her diving suit is holding her down, as much as having pockets is a major boon. She needs to go faster, so she shakes the suit off - it sinks into a tangle of branches and gets enveloped in the wood. The bottle is held tightly in the curl of her tail, and she uses her natural born talent as a climber to get to the very top of the mass.

The ocean is more turbulent the higher you go, and Sandy has to really hold on to not have the current carry her away. She tries pouring a bit of the serum on an outermost branch, and it withers away, but only that branch, until it reached a connecting mass and nothing happened. She’d have to make the amount she had count at the best possible place.

She has to go inside.

She hears static coming through her helmet, her rarely used communicator coming to life. “If you’re thinking about going in there, Cheeks, I would think again.” It’s Karen, voice comforting if tone abrasive. Or maybe it’s worry? “I’ve been scanning the way your Mutation grows, and 70% of it’s energy is spent compressing, and moving the older branches within.”

It’s not exactly reassuring. But Sandy is nothing if not confident. She huffs a laugh, knowing Karen will hear her.

“There is probably another way to stop it.” Karen states.

Sandy looks to where a branch spears through the innocent pineapple home. Gary could be in there. The squirrel doesn’t want to imagine what she’d do if something actually got hurt from her experiment.

“Thank you, Karen.” Sandy says genuinely, even though the computer has said nothing optimistic. The fact that she reached out was enough for Sandy in that moment.

There’s a pause before Sandy hears. “You got this, girl.” rattle around in her helmet, and she smirks. With a shout, she slinks downward into the tangle.

She chops the foliage trying to constrict her away. It’s like being attacked from all sides, being closed in on by walls on every plane of existence. Sandy’s no wet blanket, though, and she spins through the branches like a hacksaw. A similar sound even ringing throughout the ocean to drive home the effect.

The dome of her helmet is getting thoroughly scratched. She will admit to herself, damage to her personal helmet wasn’t something she accounted for. There’s no time to worry, though, and summons all her personal stamina and adrenaline to force her way through the very mistake she wrought to it’s heart.

The largest circumference she’s seen out of all the branches and possible roots so far. It creaked with every move it made, thrumming with energy and only one way to spend it. As Sandy had bellowed mere hours ago, it must Grow.. it must…….--

Sandy dumps the entire content in her container on what she hopes and prays is truly the root of the mutation. It sizzles against the wood, any splash back makes her fur tingle, but she is otherwise unharmed by the substance.

The churning and twisting of branches grinds to a halt - very literally grinding and shaving itself into pieces. The sound of creaking branches stops echoing around the scientist from every direction.

“By Neptune’s Laptop.. You did it Sandy! It’s completely stopped! Fantastic!” Karen sings through her speakers.

Pride and something mushy wells up in Sandy’s chest, and she sighs through a very wide smile. She’s always been pretty good at fixing her own messes, not just other peoples’. She allows herself to breathe without a metaphorical ball of stress blocking her lungs. What she just did was outlandishly dangerous, but she’s survived.

Now she just has to get out…

Sandy tries to move her limbs, and finds they crumble right through some of the weaker branches.

In that moment, the entire structure loses its shape - and much like her original Tree weakened by Nematodes - the mutated bundle crushes down into a disheveled pile. One which Sandy very suddenly finds herself on the bottom of.

She hears Karen’s panicked shouts echo in her helmet, and Sandy finds herself answering with a scream of her own as a particularly heavy piece of deadwood falls on her left leg and tail. The more the wood decays, the more water it absorbs. It’s agonizing, but Sandy uses her arms and free leg and is able to slowly push it off. The damage is done, and she whimpers as she curls around her limbs.

“Medic.” She whimpers, and as much as she fights it the pain overwhelms her senses and she passes out.

…

Karen immediately faxes emergency services, after Sandy’s cry for help. Her processors feel like they’re spinning a mile a minute, but Karen is able to compartmentalize it into a megabyte of data. “Sandy are you with me?” She asks, to no response, but she can hear the soft wheeze of her mammalian lungs. “I’m gonna get you out of there,” She reassures unaware ears - and rolls toward the Chum Bucket.

Then, takes a sharp turn towards the Krusty Krab. The doors slam open as she rolls exceedingly fast through them. Right to where Eugene Krabs is clutching a defeated looking Sheldon J. Plankton. She snatches her roommate, then continues on into the Kitchen.

Spongebob stops whistling, a little startled at the entrance. A small part of Karen’s programming urges her to take a Patty right off the grill. She reaches her free hand out and instead grabs the frycook himself. “Sorry, buster, I’m gonna borrow you for a minute.” She says, unapologetically.

"Okidokie!" The sponge answers happy-go-luckily.

Wasting no more time, she zooms back out the front entrance. She passes Mr. Krabs, who angrily yells, “Get back here with me Employee-r!!” He doesn’t give chase, though, and instead turns to his other employee who’s yet to do anything even during Plankton’s attack. “Mr. Squidward, after that CPU!! That’s an order!!”

“No,” Squidward responds - and that’s all Karen hears from them, because she’s out the door. She explains in curt words what’s happening to Plankton and Spongebob and rolls over more hills to the pile of soaked rotting wood that was keeping her clearly injured friend trapped.

“We have to save her!!” Spongebob cries, eyes actually tearing up from Karen’s description of the events and worry for his friend.

Plankton however, is still stinging from the embarrassment Krabs just dished him, and says mockingly, “Whatever plan you THINK is going to work, probably ain’t likely, sister.”

Karen feels her fans kick in as more heat builds up in her processors. She’s been monitoring Sandy - broadcasting everything she says as well - only to thankfully steady breathing. “Unlike you, I am asking for help, peabrain.” Karen answers flatly.

They’re close to the wreckage which hasn’t seemed to diminish in size, even as some wood floats away - taken with the current. Karen immediately scans it’s infrastructure, and it’s not looking good. She knows the heavier things will eventually gravitate down and fall through the weaker branches that hadn’t disintegrated. Karen doesn’t want to consider the chances of more things falling on Sandy, but she’s a computer and the calculations come naturally.

“How can we help..?” Spongebob clenches his fists, ignores that he’s sniffling, instead feeling fired up to help save one of his close friends who risked her life for his house.

Karen rolls to a stop and drops the men on the ground. She rolls back and forth like a drill sergeant and explains in great detail how she wants Plankton to use size to his advantage and climb through the gaps in the wood. Karen, using her scanners, will direct Plankton to Sandy.

He is to have a cord wrapped around him to pull him out if he gets stuck, but more importantly, to tug Spongebob into where he is. Karen rationalizes that Spongebob wouldn’t be able to actually maneuver himself through the wood, but with enough strength could be dragged through.

“... If you can’t manage it, big guy, you’ll have to wake up Sandy.”

There’s not even a moment given to think over the plan before the shortest of their party rolled his eye. “Ugh! No!”

Karen crosses her arms, not wanting to prolong anymore time, but unable to stop the buzz of annoyance toward her ex-husband. “You’re not going to wake her up?”

“I’m not doing any of it!” Plankton stomps his foot, then points dramatically at Karen. “You want me to risk being crushed into a Plankton Pancake for your little girlfriend, and I am not having it!!”

Spongebob picks Plankton up gently, causing the restaurant owner to yell profanities at the frycook, which get muffled as Spongebob cups Plankton inside his hands. “What are we gonna do once I’m inside??”

While she’s yet to make any expressions appear on her face throughout her description of her plan, she sounds extremely self assured, likely from her plan being statistically sound, but it’s a good feeling. Like when she hangs out with Mrs. Puff and Sandy and feels proud to be herself. “The Fire Department will arrive, and I will direct them to hose the pile - I’m 97% certain that you will absorb the water, expanding enough to jostle the cluster free.”

Plankton squeezes his head through a small gap in Spongebob’s makeshift cage. “Why not just wait for them to axe it all down?”

It’s something she has considered, and is certain that the foundation wouldn’t be able to handle such physical forces without possibly unleashing something on Sandy, buried so far in the center. Karen feels her vocalization banks far away, and as she leans her screen closer to the man who essentially gave her sentience her voice cracks. “Sheldon… Please.”

Plankton’s eyebrow furrows, struck silent by what could only be described as the emotion in Karen’s voice. He glances behind him, to the pile, considers the plan, and sheepishly looks back to his ex-wife… they somehow parted on goodterms…… He can’t keep letting his other failures get in the way of that.

“Fine.” His attempt at sounding grouchy comes off a bit emotionally shaken, but neither Karen or Spongebob say anything. The three of them get to work, quickly, but extremely functionally.

“Hang in there, Bushy-Tushy…” Karen directs to the still unconscious squirrel through her microphone. “We’ve got’cha.”

Sandy shudders into consciousness in the back of the ambulance. She doesn’t speak, or groan, just hangs in the moment. The ride isn’t particularly wild, but she’s jostled none the less. One particular sharp turns makes her very aware of the pain in her leg - and the fact that she couldn’t at all feel her tail.

She whimpers, and clenches her hands - then realizes one of her fists aren’t empty. She’s clutching onto something metal, yet warm - like a phone running too many apps. The hand is holding her back gently, but the presence feels so solid to her… She squints open an eye - stunned for a moment at the stark bright lights. She blinks, and through her scratched up diving helmet she can see Karen. She almost mistakes her for a life-support monitor, but Sandy knows better.

She smiles, and before her eye slips shut, she sees a beautiful smile appear where a horizontal line once sat across the AI’s face.

“I’ve got you, Sandy,” Karen’s voice crackles through the white noise of the ambulance.

Sandy Cheeks has lost a lot today, however - she can’t help but consider that maybe she’s gained something. “I know,” she whispers fondly - giving the metallic hand a squeeze not influenced by pain before letting the painkillers lull her back to sleep.

#Sandy Cheeks #Karen Plankton #Spongebob Squarepants #Sheldon J. Plankton #karendy #i make the rules and i say karen and plankton aren't together anymore but still live together

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