#Which would explain the hard to fall asleep even though utterly exhausted

[linya333]

I would like to get out of the house but raining and tired

[becauseplot]

Hi hello yes more thoughts about this hgduo pre-canon, hunger games/wars au(??) because my brain is rotating them at incredible speeds. (Obligatory cannibalism tw because yeah the lore do be like that.)

Bad originally finds Cellbit while the kid is trying to use a dagger to carve up a body to eat---key word trying. Bad stands back and watches him struggle for about thirty seconds before speaking up: "You're holding that wrong." (The kid jumps about two feet in the air. "WhhUH---") "Also you're not supposed to carve with a dagger, silly. You should really be using a knife. Here." And Bad passes him one of his hunting knives.

Bad mentally dubs Cellbit "Dagger-Kid" because he doesn't know Cellbit's name. When Cellbit later admits he doesn't know his name either, Bad officially dubs him "Dagger-Kid" or "Dagger" for short. ((For the rest of this I'll be calling Cellbit "Dagger")) ((Also I'm not 100% on this name yet but we'll see.))

I should note that I also think it would be funny that every time Dagger does something notable or reveals a new quality about himself, Bad tries to give him a new name. Like, they scavenge a piece of chocolate off one of their victims and Dagger loves it, so Bad tries to suggest, "Oh oh! What if we called you 'Sweets'! Or 'Chocolate'? 'Coco,' maybe?" all of which Dagger (playfully) rolls his eyes at. Bad rotates through nicknames regularly, but Dagger personally sticks with the first name Bad gave him.

Dagger was on his own for two months before he met Bad. He is injured and half-starved and utterly exhausted. The first time they make camp together, Dagger promises he'll take the first watch, but he nods off before even Bad can fall asleep. It's the first time Dagger has felt safe enough to truly relax, so his body just crashes. He sleeps for twelve hours.

This one's honestly more of a general qsmp headcanon I have but it goes here too: Bad teaches Dagger how to throw knives (for combat) and how to do knife tricks (for fun). Current-day Cellbit still remembers how to do the tricks, and he'll often use them as a way of fidgeting when he's thinking---with a pen or pencil instead, though.

One of Dagger's natural talents is stealth. He's not as quiet as Bad, but he's definitely good at it; his cat-hybrid traits definitely lend him a hand here, too. It's the main way Dagger survived before meeting Bad, stealing supplies out of camps while people were sleeping.

Bad, being a demon, doesn't need to eat, drink, or sleep as much as mortals do, and certainly not as much as a teenage boy. To him, it only seems practical that he gives himself smaller portions of their rations, or takes longer nightwatch shifts. But Dagger (who can scarcely imagine ever being not hungry or not tired, much less at the same time) is still grateful and feels somewhat indebted to Bad, even after Bad explains.

Dagger (a cat hybrid and a little more than a bit messed up) bites to show affection. Usually Bad's arm. Any normal guy would be injured by the force of Dagger's bite---Dagger doesn't really seem to understand that not-biting-hard is an option---but Bad doesn't really mind it.

(The truth is that deep down Dagger really wants to hug Bad, but he knows Bad isn't a very cuddly person, and yeah Bad might give him a hug if he asked but he's too afraid to ask so all that affection stays bottled up until it rises rises rises and he just doesn't know what to do with it anymore and it needs OUT---)

Bad thwacks Dagger upside the head with his tail whenever Dagger is being a "little rapscallion" and eventually Dagger starts retaliating. His tail isn't as long or flexible as Bad's but he definitely does try.

Bad has a lot of stories to tell. Some true, some made up on the fly. He's always liked telling stories, and Dagger is a captive audience. He learns Dagger loves mysteries, and suddenly, all of his campfire stories are about spies, and detectives, and red-string cork boards and espionage.

The thing Dagger fears the most is that one morning he'll wake up and Bad won't be there because Bad decided Dagger slowed him down and thus abandoned him. He thinks about this near-constantly. (The thing Bad fears the most is that one morning he'll wake up and look at Dagger and start caring like he used to a long, long time ago. He does not think about this at all.)

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (iii)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential percy jackson & the olympians spoilers, alcohol consumption, motion sickness and vomiting

series masterpost: here

a/n: this took me a hot sec to finish but here it is! there's a dumb little latin joke in here but that's just because i'm a nerd lmao

Ryan is certainly giving Bette a run for her money in the best friend department.

Magdalene has no intentions of usurping her best friend, but Ryan is quickly becoming the person she talks to most frequently. It started on social media but quickly moved to regular texting, both of them being twenty-five and capable of communicating through more normal channels. The text thread between them isn’t indicative of their newfound friendship – it looks like they’ve been friends since high school. At any given moment at least three conversations are going on, and Magdalene regularly sends him random updates throughout the day. Ryan likes hearing about any interesting artefacts she encounters at work so she keeps mental notes to tell him during their frequent phone calls.

Despite talking to him almost constantly, Magdalene hasn’t seen Ryan since they grabbed lunch at Barn Owl nearly two weeks ago. The lake house trip is a couple days out, and she’s been busy trying to get all her ducks in a row. At work, the current project is coming to an end and Magdalene will be sad to see it go – it’s the first thing she’s been on from start to finish. She’s got a neighbour coming to spend time with Caligula while she’s away so he doesn’t get too upset. Though the days are passing by in a haze as she tries to get ready, Magdalene is excited to get away for a little bit. It’s been a few years since she’s left Denver for more than a night, electing to skip on Bette’s previous vacation invites, and it will be nice to slow down. Life is moving at a comfortable pace, but having some time to pause and breathe will keep Magdalene from feeling too overwhelmed.

Halfway through her last day of work, Magdalene gets a text from Ryan that makes her nearly double over in laughter.

Julius Caesar walks into a bar and says to the bartender “I’ll have a Martinus please!” The bartender replies “Don’t you mean a Martini?” Caesar shakes his head and says “If I wanted double I would have said so.”

It takes her a minute to catch her breath, which piques June’s curiosity. Magdalene recites the joke and her boss rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but does let out a chuckle.

June didn’t think it was funny, but I did. Thank you for making today infinitely better. You riding with us tomorrow?

Magdalene tucks her phone back into her purse, determined to remain focused for the last few hours, and misses the reply telling her that Ryan won’t be riding with Bette, Tyson, and herself, but rather with Cale and his girlfriend to leave enough space for all the gear getting brought. She doesn’t see it until she’s walking across the parking lot to her car and it fills her with a sadness that doesn’t make much sense. He’ll be there for the entire week, so does it matter that he’ll be in a different car for the four hour drive? Magdalene has a sinking suspicion about why she’s upset, but she pushes it down. There’s no space in your life for a relationship right now, she reminds herself as she unlocks the door to her apartment. Caligula is waiting patiently at the door and distracts her thoughts from the handsome man with the kind smile that’s been all she can think about recently.

The cat is incredibly perceptive and knows the regular routine is going to change, making him particularly clingy. He follows Magdalene as she finishes packing, meowing and begging for pets, and she considers bailing on her friends. Caligula has mild separation anxiety and Magdalene doesn’t go away often partly because of it – though another reason is her homebody nature. Only the thought of seeing Ryan keeps her from hanging all her clothes back up.

“Don’t worry little boots,” she coos, “I won’t be gone long. Maria is going to check on you while I’m away, and I’ll be home before you know it.”

It seems ridiculous to speak to her pet as though it’s a child, but Magdalene knows Caligula comprehends what she’s saying. He’s always been smart, and the two of them share a bond that’s hard to explain. She picks him up, puts him in the pocket of her hoodie, and they spend the rest of the night packing and dancing along to the radio.

☼☼☼☼

Bette forgot to mention that the road to the lake house is winding, and Magdalene spends the entire ride with her head between her knees. Motion sickness is something that unfortunately plagues her during journeys longer than a couple of hours and she wishes she would have thought to take anti-nausea medication before leaving the house. Tyson tries to crack a joke about her being a bad passenger, but his girlfriend swats his arm and passes her friend a water bottle with a concerned smile. The two of them speak in hushed tones, almost certainly for Magdalene's benefit, and she does her best not to throw up on the floor of Tyson’s car. After what feels like two decades the vehicle rolls to a stop at the end of a gravel path.

“Mags, we’re here,” Bette says softly, praying that her friend will begin to feel better after stretching her legs and feeling firm ground underneath her.

There’s an unintelligible groan from Magdalene, but she rises out of the car and stumbles into the house. Tyson and Bette insist that she rest and they’ll handle the unloading of the car, so she crawls into one of the empty beds and falls asleep as soon as her head touches the pillow. It’s a dreamless slumber, one fuelled by the pure exhaustion of battling illness while travelling, and when she awakes hours later Magdalene feels oddly refreshed. Her energy level is still relatively low, but she knows that intaking food won’t be an issue.

Padding down the stairs as quiet as possible in an effort to not break the peaceful atmosphere, Magdalene is met with a quiet house. She’s utterly confused – she didn’t sleep long enough to miss dinner and judging by the way the sun is low in the final car full of people should be arriving any minute. For a moment she thinks the group left her in the mountains alone, but then the sound of a trunk closing breaks the silence.

“I fucking told you bro, you should have let me drive!”

Ryan’s voice echoes in Magdalene's ears and her heart skips a beat. She didn’t realize how much she had missed him or how excited she is to see him. Despite everything inside of her saying she should run into his arms Magdalene stays put in the kitchen, running the tap to get a glass of water. She focuses on the mountain on the other end of the lake, framing the setting sun and creating a postcard ready photo. The camera app on her phone is open and angles for the best shot are found. Ryan tumbles through the door a second later, arms filled to the brim with luggage and bags of food.

He drops them the second he sees her, running up behind her and lifting her off the ground. “Mags! Cale almost hit a deer!”

The shock of Ryan’s onslaught of affection catches her off guard, and Magdalene shakes her hand, forcing the picture to turn out as nothing but a blur.

“No hello?” She laughs as Ryan lets her feet touch down on the wooden floor. “It’s the least you could give me after destroying my chance of getting a National Geographic worthy picture.”

He smiles but doesn’t let his hands drop from their perch on her waist. “There’s six more days for you to nail it. I’ll even help if you ask.”

Other bodies enter the house then, causing Magdalene to slink away from Ryan’s touch even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. They’re simply friends, and she doesn’t want Bette to get any ideas. The last thing Magdalene needs on her plate right now is her best friend forcing her to paint a custom denim jacket with Ryan’s number across the back. “I can’t believe you almost hit a deer,” Tyson sighs in disbelief.

“It wasn’t even close,” Cale grumbles, picking up his bags and stomping off to find a place to claim as his own the next couple of days. A petite redhead follows after him, giving a small wave to those in the kitchen before scurrying away. When she asks, Ryan tells Magdalene the girl’s name is Livy, and that she’s Cale’s girlfriend from back home.

Everyone shrugs at his moodiness and disperses. Bette and Tyson stay in the kitchen to make dinner, Ryan goes to claim the final room, and Magdalene slips outside to sit on the patio furniture. The sun has dropped drastically in the past five minutes, causing the air to chill. She wraps her arms tighter around her legs and watches a pair of birds fly over the lake below. It’s so peaceful, a complete one-eighty from the insanity of her life in Denver, and Magdalene thinks about never leaving. She knows it’s impossible, but as she closes her eyes and listens to the quiet laughter of her friends inside the idea seems like a pretty good one.

The sliding door creaks open and Ryan goes through as quietly as possible. He tosses a sweater in Magdalene’s direction as he walks over, plopping down beside her on the small couch.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, slipping the fabric over her head. “I didn’t realize how cold it had actually gotten.”

He smiles in response and shuffles his body a little closer to create extra warmth. Magdalene leans into him, trying to appear casual even though her heart is beating rapidly, and pulls on the strings of the sweater Ryan gave her.

“So, are you excited for this week?”

It’s more awkward than she thought it would be – seeing him in person again, especially since they’ve been texting almost constantly, and the words kind of stick in her throat.

“Honestly? Now that I’m here I am, but I was a little leery about taking time off,” Ryan explains, detailing how he’s trying to improve some aspects of his two-way play and is worried his progress will plateau. Magdalene understands and shares her own worries about taking time off work even if her boss encouraged it.

After catching up quickly and running out of things to say, the pair of them sit in silence watching the sun set until they’re called inside for dinner. It’s nice to just exist, especially with Ryan beside her, and Magdalene feels her heart sink as they separate and he goes to make sure Cale isn’t actually mad at him.

☼☼☼☼

It storms the first two days at the lake house, forcing everyone to stay inside. Tyson complains about how he has less time to drive the boat that came with the property but the others take it in stride. Magdalene spends most of the time reading for pleasure, something she hasn’t been able to do much of the past few years, and Ryan joins her for large chunks of the time. It turns out that he too is an avid reader, and the two of them discuss their favourite novels and series while the other four play board games.

“So you’re telling me you wish Annabeth would have joined the Hunters of Artemis?” Magdalene shrieks in shock, almost knocking the wine out of her glass as her arms flail in disbelief.

“I think it made sense for her to,” Ryan defends.

“But she’s perfect for Percy!”

He sticks to his guns. “I’m not saying she isn’t. I just think that at the time the offer was presented it was the most logical choice. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about what would have happened if she did.”

She ducks her head in defeat because she had imagined it, on many occasions in fact. When reading the series for the first time in middle school Magdalene had desperately hoped Annabeth would choose the Hunters over Camp Half-Blood, gaining the family she herself never was privy to. They return to reading quietly beside each other, occasionally knocking elbows when trying to turn a page.

Tuesday brings sunshine and clear skies, which means Tyson is trying to corral everyone into the boat as soon as they’re up. Magdalene tries her hardest to get out of it but her pleas fall on deaf ears.

“You’ll be fine, stop being such a wimp,” Cale jests. She knows that he’s just anxious to soak up some sun, but the words hurt more than Magdalene would have liked them to.

Livy swats her boyfriend across the chest. “Enough! If she doesn’t want to come she doesn’t have to.” The smaller girl sends her a kind smile before speaking low enough that only Magdalene can hear her. “I know your book is just getting good and you look like the kind of person who needs alone time to function properly. Enjoy yourself.”

Seemingly excused from the day’s festivities, Magdalene gives a sheepish wave before climbing the small hill to the house. Ryan meets her halfway and is appalled when he hears of her plans.

“Nope, I don’t think so. You’re not leaving me alone to be the ultimate third wheel!”

He has her off the ground and over his shoulder in a millisecond, jogging lightly to catch up with the rest of the group. Magdalene’s laugh bounces off the tree lined shore, and she’s too busy having fun shrieking at Ryan to complain about being forced to spend all day on a boat away from her book. Tyson peels away from the dock before she can regret tagging along, and Bette tugs Magdalene to the bow.

The two girls chat quietly, giggling and sipping on the mimosas they made earlier. Magdalene isn’t a huge day drinker, but Bette makes sure there’s more orange juice than champagne to make her feel less guilty. Livy joins them a while later after becoming sick of the boys and their shenanigans. It’s nice to hang out with a group of girls that aren’t competing for the top spot in a class, Magdalene decides, and she revels in the stories they tell of going to hockey games and babysitting the children of players so they can catch a break. Twinges of jealousy creep up at the wonderful family dynamic the Avalanche seem to have, but she stomachs them. She reminds herself that other people deserve to have support systems and excuses herself from the conversation.

Magdalene slides into the free space beside Ryan, and without thinking he wraps an arm around her shoulder. It feels so natural that she wonders if it’s how he greets all his friends, but the looks of shock and Tyson and Cale’s faces say otherwise. After a bit more cruising they find a small bay to anchor in for a while. The sun had climbed to the middle of the sky and is unbearably warm, leaving everyone no choice but to jump into the water to cool off. Magdalene does her best to float peacefully a short distance away from the group but is somehow brought into a splashing war because the teams aren’t equal.

Eventually the constant barrage of water chills her to the bone, and Magdalene swims back to the boat. She watches from the sidelines and cheers for her old teammates with a towel wrapped snugly around her. Ryan breaks from the group too, insisting it isn’t fair to have teams on unequal strength. Once dry, he picks up the baseball cap he brought and places it delicately on Magdalene’s head.

“Your cheeks are starting to go pink and I don’t want you to burn,” he explains, passing her a bottle of sunscreen as well.

“Thanks Ry.”

They muse about the idyllic beauty of the scene in front of them until everyone rejoins them. For reasons unbeknownst to Magdalene Tyson is in a rush to get back to the house, which leads to him driving very fast and a little erratically. The contents of her stomach threaten to come up but she holds them down, tightening her grip on the leather seat. A wave crests and Tyson hits it head on, causing the boat to lurch and rock. Magdalene knows it’s going to happen before it does and leans over the side to save a mess from being created. All the alcohol and food she’d consumed throughout the day is no longer in her body, and heat creeps up the back of her neck. She’s embarrassed – what twenty-five year old gets sea sick?

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

She tries to smile but it comes out more like a grimace. “I just, uh, get motion sick really easily.” Bette passes her a water bottle and she drinks it quickly, eager to get the taste out of her mouth.

Ryan lets Magdalene curl into his side the rest of the way home, and rubs comforting circles on her back to ease her discomfort, doing his best to ignore the stares from his friends.

☼☼☼☼

The trip comes to an end much more quickly than Magdalene would have liked. Tomorrow morning they’ll pack up and drive back to Denver, returning to their normal hectic schedules. Cale and Livy are heading back to Alberta for the rest of the summer, and Bette and Tyson will be going for a visit as well. She’s heard Ryan mention going home in passing, which most likely means he doesn’t have plans to stay. Magdalene will be all alone in Colorado, but she’s used to it. The only issue being friends with professional athletes is that they leave. She’s been dealing with the loss since Bette and Tyson got together years ago – having them around as her support system most of the year and then them disappearing for a couple of months.

Not wanting to think about how soon she’ll be alone, Magdalene heads outside and starts a campfire. It’s a skill she picked up as a kid and it has come in handy over the years. The newspaper crinkles under the flame from the lighter, and soon the kindling is burning well. Everyone else is still inside, cleaning up from dinner and preparing for one last night in paradise. She places a few blocks of wood in the fire pit once there’s a good enough flame and curls up in a chair, lost in thought about what comes next. There’s rustling from somewhere behind her but she pays it no mind, assuming it’s a small animal wandering through the forest.

“Can I offer you some company?” a voice says softly, waiting for a response. The movement wasn’t a raccoon but in fact Ryan, and Magdalene gestures at the chair beside her with a smile.

He passes her a glass of white wine, which she takes with an appreciative hum. They sit in silence for a moment, admiring the beauty of the setting sun. “I’m going to miss it,” Ryan sighs, leaning back in his chair and extending his legs.

She nods. “Me too. It’s so quiet up here. Denver gets too loud sometimes.”

“Tell me about it. I’m not just going to miss the lake though, it’s also lounging around and not having to worry about hockey. And you.”

The ending comes out rushed, and Magdalene isn’t sure she heard him correctly. “Me?”

Ryan looks at her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes you. Why wouldn’t I? You’re funny, smart, and catch all of my West Wing references. There’s no one who gets me quite like you, even back home.”

It takes her by surprise. They’ve only known each other for a few months, and only really started associating after the party at Bette and Tyson’s. There has to be somebody who knows him better than she does. When she voices her opinion Ryan just scoffs, saying that people treat him as one-dimensional because he plays hockey. Somehow the conversation shifts to Magdalene, and when she lets it slip she gets lonely in Denver without her friends, Ryan asks the question she’s been dreading.

“So why don’t you get a boyfriend?”

“I can’t just get a boyfriend because my friends are gone,” she laughs, but there’s an edge to it, like she’s unsure of where this will go and how to question the follow ups.

He rolls his eyes. “I know that, but like, I don’t know, wouldn’t it be nice to not be alone all the time?”

It would be, Magdalene thinks, but she just shrugs. “I guess I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I just finished school and for the first time in a long time I can focus on myself.” She leaves out the part where Ryan gives her butterflies and that if he asked she’d probably jump headfirst into a relationship with him.

The topic is dropped then because Tyson comes out of the house screaming about the night is going to be wild because it’s their last together for a while. Magdalene and Ryan share a look of mild panic, but both of them are itching to have fun with friends so they raise their glasses in salute before finishing them in one gulp.

Magdalene drinks more than she should and wakes in the morning with a killer hangover. It seems that no one else is better off though, all stumbling around looking for Advil and coffee like it’s going to be their last meal. Packing up takes a bit longer than expected, but they’re still out before the official checkout time. There’s a bit of discourse on who Magdalene will travel home with. Bette wants her in Tyson’s car, no doubt to talk about how close her and Ryan seem to be, but Cale offers to bring her with them. His reasoning is that Ryan is driving him and Livy directly to the airport, and having the front seat could be good for her motion sickness. It’s ultimately Magdalene’s choice and the idea of having more time with Ryan before he leaves is too enticing to pass up. She bids her other friends goodbye, promising to come over for dinner before they fly out, and climbs into the cab of Cale’s truck.

Once again she’s a less than ideal passenger, but this time it’s because she sleeps the entire way back to Denver. The drinking took it out of her and coupled with the queasiness in her stomach from the winding roads sleep is the only thing that makes sense. So much for extra time with Ryan she thinks as she wakes up in the airport parking lot.

“Sleeping beauty has risen!” Ryan chuckles, “Why don’t you get out and stretch your legs for a sec? We have the parking spot for another fifteen minutes.”

Magdalene does as suggested because truthfully her joints are a little stiff, and finds Cale and Livy grabbing their bags from the back. She hugs them goodbye and wishes them safe travels, which Cale returns with a warning not to get into too much trouble before heading for the entrance. Once both of them are safely inside the confines of the airport, Ryan and Magdalene get back in the vehicle and finish the last leg of the trip.

She directs Ryan to her apartment complex, and he mentions that he’s never been in this area of the city. “That’s because you have no need to be around a bunch of university kids,” she laughs. Once they pull into the parking lot, he offers to help her take up her bag. It’s only a small suitcase Magdalene could definitely handle herself, but she wants him to come up, to prolong her time with him.

Magdalene’s keys jingle in the lock as the door opens. Ryan follows her in and shuts the door carefully, not wanting to disrupt the aura of peace that permeates the space. From what he can tell, the average size apartment is the perfect reflection of Magdalene – packed full of books and plants and feels very put together despite the owner being only twenty-five. After their shoes find a home on the boot rack and the coats they brought for the drive home are hung in the closet she leads Ryan into the living room. There’s a soft purring by his feet, and Ryan looks down to see an animal. He never pegged Magdalene as someone to keep pets.

“Who’s this?” he asks, bending down to pet the small white cat.

“That’s Caligula.”

A puzzled look graces Ryan’s features. “Who?”

“Caligula,” Madalene giggles. “You can call him little boots if you’d like. He’ll respond.” She picks up the animal when it comes to her and scratches gently behind its ear.

“Why would you name your cat something dumb like Caligula, and why does it respond to little boots?”

It’s then the woman realizes that not everyone understands the reference. “Caligula was the third emperor of Rome,” she explains, “But his real name was Gaius. He gained the nickname Caligula as a child and it just stuck. It translates to little boots in Latin.”

Ryan is in awe of Magdalene for what feels like the millionth time. Of course someone as smart as her would have a crazy name for a pet and have the knowledge to back it up. He feels his chest tighten with affection but he wills it away. She isn’t looking for anything right now, he reminds himself. Magdalene’s self-professed inability to reciprocate his feelings is frustrating, but Ryan knows he’d wait forever for her.

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: catch some extra content here!

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @ricohenrique @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlbluesbrat21 (add yourself to the taglist!)

[local-spoon-does-a-thing]

Stress

[(Platonic) TFP! Optimus Prime x Reader]

A/N: So this was just a little vent fic I needed to do since school is going to start up tomorrow and I am not ready for it. Sorry if it's bad, but then again, it's a vent fic. Also I finally decided to watch Transformers Prime and I really like it.

Ah yes, it was back to school day. Winter break had unfortunately passed by way too quickly for anyone’s liking, but what else could they do? For you, the first day was always so dreadful. At least you only have one more year left before you enter college. Until then, you were stuck with kids you didn’t want to be around, dreadful school lunch, and assignment anxiety. Luckily, you got to go to school with Jack and Miko. You never really knew them at first but after getting caught up in an incident between the Decepticons and Autobots, you got to meet Raf and soon, your bonds with them grew (the Fearsome Foursome as Miko would call you guys). 

It was your last period before school ended. You were absolutely waiting for the moment when you got to ride with Optimus, as he was your guardian. Sure, he was a busy ‘Bot, but he always managed to make time with you. You stared out the window at the driveway, feeling excited with which shenanigan was going to take place today. But you were suddenly pulled out of your thoughts when you hear your name get called by the teacher.

“[Y/N], do you have your assignment?” The teacher questioned as she had a stack of papers resting in her arms. Oh, son of a- you’ve forgotten to do your assignment throughout the break since you were too caught up in having fun with your friends. Then again, who the hell assigns homework on winter break? It’s called a break for a reason. Twiddling your thumbs guiltily, you shook your head no and swallowed a lump in your throat. Please don’t get detention, please don’t get detention, please-

“[Y/N] you had all of winter break to finish your assignment. You’re a 12th grader, please be more responsible. You have detention after class.” She said as she went to her desk and put the sheets of paper down. You could feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment as you heard the teacher resume the class and lesson. Oh great, you lost homework credit and got detention. That assignment had 50 points and it went down the drain! Welp, guess it was time to say goodbye to your grade. You felt a cloud of pessimism shadow over your head as you did your best to pay attention to what was on the whiteboard. Time slowly passed by and finally, the school bell rang. As the students rushed out of the classroom, you slowly made your way out of the room as well and instead of walking out of school, you walked to the detention room. You gave a quick message to  Jack to tell the others that you were in detention. Once the text had been sent, you entered the detention classroom and sat all the way in the back row, next to the big window. 

For some reason, time seemed to drag on even more slowly. There were a few students in the room, but they were either asleep or doing their homework. You might as well do your homework as well since there was nothing else to do. As you fetched your utensils and the sheet of work, in the corner of your eye you saw a blue and red semi-truck waiting on the driveway. You couldn’t tell, but you could feel the old leader’s gaze resting on you through the window. You prayed with all your might to not get lectured tonight since you weren’t in the mood for it. You know that he means well, but it was still irritating. Clicking your pen, you looked back down at your paper and tried to solve an equation. Unfortunately, with the heavy gaze still on you and the worry of his lecture and disappointment, you got little to nothing done on your work.

Once you were able to leave, you packed all of your stuff and quickly left the building, soon making your way towards the semi-truck. You kept your eyes on the ground as the door flung open and you entered the passengers side. As soon as the door slammed shut, the engine came to life and you two made your way back to the base. The ride was pretty quiet as your hands rested on your lap. You refused to look away from your lap and continued to brace yourself for the lecture.

“[Y/N]...” Ah, there it was. After a moment passed by, you looked up at the radio and waited for him to continue. “Jack told me that you had detention. Care to explain why?”

Ah scrap, here we go again. You sunk into your seat and crossed your arms before answering his question. “Um, I forgot to do my assignment. That’s it, I swear.”

You could hear a faint sigh coming from his radio, though you couldn’t tell if it was a sigh of relief or a sigh of disappointment. No other words were exchanged as the ride continued on. After some more time passed by, you two were back at the base. You grabbed your backpack and got out as Optimus transformed out of his vehicle mode. You looked up at him as he looked down at you, his expression unreadable. You then went on to make your way towards the couch upstairs, but you were stopped once you heard Optimus’ voice once again.

“[Y/N], please take caution on when your assignments are due. I worry that you won’t be able to graduate at this rate.”

There wasn’t much to say at that statement. You just gave him another guilty look and nod before continuing to make your way towards the couch. You could hear Miko tease about you getting attention while Jack told her off. Raf offered help for your homework, but you politely declined. As the trio went down to hang out with the other bots, you stayed at the couch and twirled the pen in between your fingers as you tried to complete your homework. Okay, maybe you did need help. Though,  it was too late to ask for any just as you went on to decline it. Your pride got in your way once more. Plus, Raf was having fun with the others and you didn’t want to spoil that. The dark cloud that loomed over your head had yet to disappear but instead, it continued to grow as each second passed by. You furrowed your eyebrows and glared intensely at the equation you were stuck on. If it were possible, there would’ve been a hole going straight through your homework as your stare was that intense. For some goddamn reason, you couldn’t concentrate on anything. Your mind and thoughts kept jumping from the time you got detention to the time you had your ride with Optimus. It was honestly very frustrating and you could blow up with anger at any given second. The sounds of the ‘Bots and your friends having fun at the other side of base didn’t help you either. 

Eventually, you tossed the pen on the table and leaned back into the couch. You stared up at the ceiling above you and let out a deep sigh. Ratchet took notice of your sigh and took a brief moment to look at you. You looked utterly exhausted while your eyebrows were still knitted together. The medic raised an optic and questioned you.

“Is there something wrong, [Y/N]? You look like you’re about to fall apart at any second.”

Lazily, you moved your head to the side and looked at him. By now, you were too tired to even give him a weak, reassuring smile. You just had to hope that Ratchet trusted your word. “No worries, everything is under control.” He didn’t believe you.

“Doesn’t look like it. Are you having problems with your homework? Optimus told me about  what happened earlier.”

Of course he would know. You were embarrassed once more and looked back up at the ceiling. You sighed once more and nodded your head, telling him that you were having problems. Ratchet let out a small hum and called for Raf. After you heard the mention of the little boy’s name, your body snapped straight up and you looked at Ratchet with panic. Before you could protest, Raf was with you. You meant no ill intent or offense towards the boy, but you couldn’t believe that you were getting help from a 12 year old.

“[Y/N] needs help with their homework.” Ratchet simply says before going back to work.

Raf nods and sits down next to you. “So, what do you need help with?”

Grabbing the sheet of paper in front of you, you showed him what you needed help on. You then stop him before you could begin solving the equation. “It’s not that I don’t know how to solve it. It’s just...it’s kinda hard to concentrate, y’know? I think I’m having one of those days.”

And Raf did understand. Everyone had one of those days where they couldn’t focus. But that didn’t make you stupid. All you wanted to do was spend time with the others, especially Optimus since one, he was your guardian. And two, Decepticon activity has been exceptionally high lately and even though he picks you up from school almost every single day, you still wanted to be with him.

“I understand, but maybe you should take a break before getting back to work. It helps a lot.” Raf suggested but you politely declined. You explained how you wanted to just get everything over with so you could hang out with the others as soon as possible. He wanted to insist, yet he respected your decision. As some time went on, you still couldn’t focus on what was happening. The young boy continued to try to explain to you the equation, but in the end you gave up. Optimus had just finished his duties and returned to the base. He laid his optics upon you and made his way towards you. Now, he could fully see the frustration and irritation written on your face as you aggressively clicked your pen.

“Is something the matter, [Y/N]?” The old Bot asked.

“[Y/N]’s having a hard time concentrating. We haven’t even finished a single problem yet.” Raf answered for you.

“Hmm, I see. [Y/N], get ready. We’re going for a drive.”

You stopped clicking your pen and looked over to Optimus, who was already in his vehicle form. Your shoulders dropped and you tossed the pen back on the table before standing up and stretching your body. You then looked back at the young boy and gave a weak but kind smile. “I’ll be back soon. Just make sure Miko doesn’t spill anything on my homework.” You tell him before waving and making your way back down.

Once you entered the vehicle, he drove his way out of the base and went outside. It was starting to become night time and there was a lovely sunset on the horizon. The gloomy cloud that was now a storm started to drift away from your head and you could feel yourself relax. It was quiet, but you liked it. One of the many things you could appreciate from Optimus was that you two would just have comfortable silences together and you loved it. You tapped on the window and signalled for him to roll it down and once he did, you stuck your head out and rested your chin on top of the door. The breeze nicely hit your face and ran through your hair. Everything was instantly better now. It was quiet for a while, but Optimus finally decided to talk to you after seeing how relaxed you are now.

“It seems that you are calm now. I’m glad that I could be of some use.” He chuckled. “Is there anything on your mind? Anything you want to...vent, as you call it?”

It took a moment for you to reply. You were contemplating on whether to tell him or not. You didn’t want to bring him down with your problems yet then again, you could really vent out right now. And so you did.

“I- um, I don’t know why, but it’s just so difficult for me to focus. I can’t focus in class, on my homework, and I couldn’t even finish a single problem. I’m always so forgetful and even when I set up reminders on my phone and what not, I always forget. I don’t get or understand why. Is there something wrong with me? Am I just dumb?”

At this question, Optimus slowed down and came to a full stop. Thankfully, the two of you were in the middle of nowhere. If he could, he would place you on his shoulder while stargaze under the night sky. Unfortunately, he would be at risk of getting his cover blown.

“You are not dumb. Having trouble focusing or remembering does not make you dumb. But if you truly feel that there is something wrong with you, I highly recommend that you either see Ratchet or another professional. Just know that the Autobots and the other children will be here to support you. I know that things may seem tough right now, but you must trudge through. Things will get better soon, I promise you.”

Just like that, your worries melted away. Optimus has never broken a promise and he doesn’t plan on breaking one any time soon. You know that you can trust him and you’ve taken every one of his words to heart. Nothing else needed to be said as a relieved smile entered your face. You leaned back into the seat and rested the temple of your head against the door before shutting your eyes.

“Thank you, Optimus. Thank you for being here for me.”

“Always, [Y/N].”

[lesetoilesfous]

Writing prompt: “You’re trembling.” for Fenders please! <3

Ah thank you!! <3 I hope you enjoy!

(If you’d like me to write you a dragon age fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Fenders

Characters: Fenris, Anders, Isabela, Marian Hawke

Tags: past trauma, reference to past abuse, very oblique reference to past sexual abuse, flashbacks, panic attacks, Anders and Fenris get shoved down a well by templars and Anders gets flashbacks

Rating: Mature

“Think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you mage?” Ser Karras’ voice is sneering, and it bounces against the walls of the well down which he and his men had shoved both Anders and Fenris as he looms over the one remaining point of light far above them. “Some of my boys transferred from Kinloch. Felt like their knight commander had gone soft. Letting scum like you give them the run around. So I’m sure you’ll remember this.”

There’s a thunder clap of sound as Karras drops the heavy wooden cover over the well, and suddenly the light goes out. Anders screams, hurling himself against the cold, long since dried stone of this forgotten well in the foothills of Sundermount. It does nothing. He doesn’t care. He throws himself against the stone again and again until his knuckles are splitting and bloody and his whole body is aching with the bruising force of it. 

When gauntleted hands land on Anders’ shoulders he recoils, falling back against the stone, feet skidding in the dust. The magebane is slowing his reactions, like alcohol without the warmth, and he can feels his emotions and his connection to Justice like a distant memory. Now there is only him, and the figure (Templar) in the dark with the steel hands. Anders turns away from it, feeling tears running hot and stinging down his cheeks as he tears at the stone until his nails split.

“LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT!” Anders screams until his voice hurts, beating his bloody hands against the stone, blinking against the dizzying darkness. Again, gauntleted hands catch in his clothes, firmer this time. Anders sobs, half heartedly pushing them away. The hands move, turning him, and Anders cowers. It was always worse when they wanted to kiss him. 

He waits, shivering, for whatever the templar is going to do next. But nothing happens, and after a moment the throbbing pain of hands and arms begins to make itself insistently known at the front of his mind. Slowly, Anders forces himself to open his eyes, and they immediately burn at the sudden presence of light. He blinks the tears out of his vision and stares at the weaving, starlight patterns of lyrium in this person’s skin. Not a templar, then. Finally, Anders forces himself to look up, shaking, into a face he recognises. 

Fenris is frowning at him. “You’re trembling.”

Anders tries to laugh, but manages only a wet sob. “Yeah, well.” He’s shivering so hard he feels like he could fall over. He remembers being this cold once (twice) before, when he was a child and one of the warming spells in the Circle had failed. All of the apprentices had climbed into each others’ beds to stay warm. They’d still lost three to the chill. One of them was six. 

Fenris’ hands are still tight on Anders’ shoulders, and Anders doesn’t know how to explain that he needs them not to be. So instead he stands, and shakes. After a moment, Fenris huffs and pushes him to sit. Anders folds instinctively to his knees, and at that at last Fenris looks even more troubled, letting him go as if he’d been burned. Anders tries not to let his relief show, though he suspects by the expression on Fenris’ face that it does, anyway. 

The well smells of old silt and dry stone, and it is at least an improvement on - Anders’ mind skitters away from the recollection. He cannot let himself go back there. The light of Fenris’ tattoos is barely keeping him in the present, and without Justice to help stabilise his sanity (an irony he would laugh at later), Anders has no intention of tempting fate.

After a long moment of heavy silence, Fenris says, softly, “Hawke will come.” He sounds certain of it. Anders tries to believe him. Fenris goes on, firmly, “She will notice that we are missing. So will Isabela. Neither of them are as foolhardy as they like to pretend.”

Anders hums. He can, at least, concede that. He’s shaking so hard his teeth are chattering. Fenris looks at him. His hair is silver in the reflected light of his tattoos, giving him a faint misty white halo like the moon in the dark. “That man - Karras - he mentioned Kinloch. This is the Circle you were raised in?”

Anders bites the inside of his cheek so hard it hurts and stares at the light of the tattoos on Fenris’ hands. “Unless you want me to go full on actual abomination, I suggest that we don’t go there.” Then he laughs, manic, suddenly, with fear, as he pulls at his hair and leans between his bent knees, back pressed against the stone of the well. “What am I saying. You’d love that. Yes, Fenris, he mentioned Kinloch Hold. Why?” Anders’ thoughts keep scattering from his grasp like frightened halla. He feels anxiety and rage and fear rolling through his body in great crashing waves of emotion. He can’t stop shaking, though he pulls hard on his hair in an effort to make his hands still. 

Fenris is quiet for a long while, and Anders nearly regrets snapping at him - nearly offers him anything, if only he’ll break the silence again. But then Fenris does, and Anders tries not to wreep with the relief of it. “I would help you, if I may. You do not look well.”

Anders laughs, and again the sound is a manic thing that ricochets against the walls of the well, invisible under the velvet weight of deep shadow. “I’m fine.” Anders taps his forehead, “It’s the brain that’s broken. Not the body.” He pauses, examining his bloody, bruised hands and arms with a clinical eye. “Well. Not much.”

“Would it help to ask what happened?” 

Anders can almost feel the weight of Fenris’ effort at patience, and he laughs again, feeling it bubble like fizzing alcohol on his tongue. “You don’t have to be nice to me, you know. Void, do whatever you want. If you stay lit up like that and don’t go quiet, I’ll do anything you say.” Anders hates how much he means it, and the frayed edge of desperation that bleeds into the words.

Fenris, for his part, turns a faint shade of green, and shakes his head. “Are you cold?”

It is cold, down here, thanks to the shadow and the depth. Anders shakes his head before Fenris touches him, the backs of his fingers resting against Anders’ forehead like a nurse’s. After a moment Fenris huffs and moves closer, shoulder pressing against Anders’. The steel of his armour presses into Anders’ skin, and Anders’ mind whirls with a disorienting jigsaw of memories. “Is this alright?” Fenris asks, gruffly.

“Armour.” Anders manages, tightly, and tries to ignore the weight of Fenris’ eyes on him for a long moment before the elf briskly, methodically strips out of his armour, even pausing to remove the gauntlets. When he returns to Anders, the warm curve of his bicep is interrupted only by the fabric of his shirt, and Anders’ body falls heavily against him despite his conscious mind. 

Fenris seems surprised by that, too, because he lets out a small exhalation of air before moving to embrace him, carefully, strong arms wrapping around him and letting him rest against his muscular chest. Anders lets Fenris hold him, and feels, abruptly, utterly exhausted as the tension bleeds out of his body. It’s not dark. He’s not alone. There are no templars. Another beat of silence passes, in which Anders’ racing heart continues to slow to something resembling a regular pace. And then Fenris starts to hum.

Anders doesn’t recognise the tune at first. Fenris’ voice is so low his hum is more of a rumble, that sweetens into a melody the longer Anders listens. Anders feels his shoulders relaxing. Blindly, he reaches out for Fenris’ hand, winding their fingers together. To his faint surprise, Fenris lets him, and the lyrium tingles against his skin where it burns. Anders’ eyelids get heavier, and he feels himself slump further. Fenris’ voice is soft by his head when he speaks. “Sleep, mage. No harm will come to you here.”

Anders wants to say he doesn’t believe him. But the words get lost somewhere on his tongue, and then he’s falling into the darkness behind his eyes, and the dizzying worlds of the Fade.

*

“-ders! Fenris!” Anders wakes up with a headache. The first thing he notices is that his hands and arms are burning with a blistering, chafing pain. The second thing he notices is that he’s asleep on someone, who’s snoring gently. Or, at least, who was - Fenris wakes as quickly as Anders does, and moves him with hurried and surprising tenderness as he gets to his feet, shouting up to a blood-splattered Hawke. 

“Hawke! We’re here!”

A moment later, a rope falls with a whip crack down into the well. Anders stares at it, and Fenris gestures him forwards. Anders can’t find the words to thank him for that, instead he curls his screaming knuckles around the rope and begins to climb. After far too long (he suspects he has fractured at least one bone), Anders feels fresh air on his skin, and then Hawke and Isabela’s hands are on him, and he’s being bundled into a warm, soft, curving body as Isabela hugs him so tightly it hurts. Behind them, Anders is distantly aware of Fenris climbing the rope too, but he’s distracted by Isabela squeezing him breathless and pressing kisses into his hair.

“Void, kitten, I’m so sorry. I swear, I’ll never let that happen to you again. Ever. I swear it.” Isabela’s hands are tight on him, and Anders realises abruptly that perhaps she had learned about his year in solitary after all. He doesn’t know what to think about that, but Isabela’s warm, muscular arms tight around his body are a welcome relief, and he doesn’t try to pull away. At least, until he hears the low rumble of Fenris’ voice behind him, and he pulls back a little from Isabela (her arm is still hooked tightly around his waist), to look over at the elf.

For a long moment, Anders’ tongue is tied. The wind howls over the heather on Sundermount, whistling around the mossy green cliffs of the mountain. Fenris’ hair pulls against his head, white as feathers, and his eyes are bruised with sleeplessness. Anders wonders how much effort he had spent, keeping his brands lit through the night. Finally, he finds his voice, “Fenris. Thank you.”

Fenris looks at him for a long moment. Then he ducks his head, and waves him off, turning away. “It was nothing, mage. You would have done the same for me.”

Anders isn’t sure he would have. But he thinks, as he watches Hawke and Fenris stride down the grassy slope to the templars’ bodies in the ruins of their campsite, he would do it, now. He will.

[anoutlandishfanfic]

Metamorphosis Chapter 27: Nesting

Huzzah!! I’m so excited to finally bring you Chapter 27!! You can catch up on where we left off in Ch26 HERE (since its been awhile), or head on over to the master list. Metamorphosis is also up to date at AO3!

The Premise: What if Claire had conceived on her wedding night with Jamie? How would that change the plot points we all know and love?

Ch27 fits in the Season One finale episode of the show, or towards the end of the book timeline. Claire and Jamie have OFFICIALLY left Scotland’s shores and are on their way to safety in France!

Claire. Midday, February 21st, 1744; Somewhere in the English Channel

I shifted cautiously on the outrageously uncomfortable crate my husband had deposited me on, trying not to make any noise, but it creaked and groaned just as much as my aching joints were at present — tattling my discomfort to Jamie, who I swore had batlike hearing.

“I have the bucket jus’ here,” Jamie commented cautiously from somewhere behind me, alluding to the fact that I had absolutely nothing left in my stomach after several bouts with the receptacle.

“Do ye need it again?”

“No,” I bit out as the muscles in my lower back spasmed, a band tightening around my waist with an increasingly bothersome intensity.

What I needed was to move around… to be able to stretch my stiff limbs and appease my offended muscles. I voiced this suggestion — a slow turn about the room with assistance — and a sudden, Scottish noise of amused non-committance sounded from my left.

Snapping my head in Murtagh’s direction, I found him bracing his weight casually against a post, one arm raised as he held onto a beam just above his head. The ship heaved just then and I could see the tendons in his wrist tighten as he steadied himself.

He caught my gaze and lifted brow as if to say ye’d fall on yer arse in a moment, lass.

I sighed, abandoning his support and craned my neck in search of my husband. The room was dim and stacked high with crates and bundles, easy enough to lose track of a bored yet always curious Jamie.

He’d made no comment in support or negation of my request, but was currently choosing to remain out of sight.

“What are you up to over there, anyway?” I eventually huffed when it became clear that neither of them had any intention of helping me.

“Ach, tis nothin’,” he tried to dismiss my attention, which piqued Murtagh’s in turn and drew the older man to his side like a magnet.

“Just a wee bit of putterin’ to pass the time is all.”

An amused sound of delight came from the elder of my two companions and I heard him slap Jamie on the back… hard.

Making no effort to hide my amusement, I heard my husband begin to protest the joyful abuse befallen him but his words were interrupted by Murtagh’s enthusiastic, “Now how’d ye manage that, ye wee fiend?!”

There was an exchange of heated Gaelic conversation — so overlapped that I was confident I’d have a hard time following even if they were speaking English — and then I quite suddenly found myself being lifted by my elbows and carted off to the other side of the room!

I objected strongly as my hips screamed in protest at their pace and was about to dig my heels in and balk completely when we came to a screeching halt before what looked remarkably like a bed.

“How the bloody fucking hell—“ my voice broke and I stared down at my husband’s miracle in disbelief, then turned to look up at him in awe.

“God, I love you, James Fraser.”

Murtagh cackled with glee at this and Jamie bent his head to kiss me in support of my declaration. I expected a quick peck on the cheek or a rather brief smooch on the lips — we didn’t exactly have the room to ourselves — but was taken aback by a kiss that made a thrumming warmth begin to grow between my legs. The heat spread across my hips and up my spine, loosening my muscles and made me feel quite suddenly completely and utterly exhausted.

I sighed as he pulled away, inquiring, “When can I crawl in?”

“Now if ye like,” one shoulder rose in a shrug and Jamie explained his construction plans. “That is, if ye dinna mind us building a wee fence around ye.”

“A fence?” I stared up at him incredulously.

“Oh, aye!” This came from Murtagh. “We canna have ye rollin’ aboot, now can we?”

Jamie caught the glare that his godfather missed entirely — being that he stood between the two of us — and bit his lip in a failed effort not to betray the mirth that clearly bubbled up inside him.

“Think of it more as a wee nest than a paddock, Sassenach,” he chose his words more carefully, then realized he quite liked them and patted my arm rather patronizingly. “A wee nest for my mother hennie, aye?”

“As long as I’m not a wallowing sow,” I grumbled, making Jamie choke in an effort to conceal a laugh.

This assuaged me a good deal and I felt myself smile a bit as I prodded him in the ribs, “Are you going to help me with my shoes or am I to track mud all over your beautiful nest?”

Jamie perched me on a nearby crate and knelt to shed me of my shoes. There wasn’t much to the flimsy things and what they were composed of was now completely sodden in mud and sea water that they all but fell off my feet with his guidance. He set them neatly aside and began to rub my aching feet, bringing warmth and a rush of blood back into the extremities with a burning pins and needles sensation.

I winced and his face contorted in contrition.

“Christ, I’m sorry, a leannan,” he crooned, keeping up his blessed work. “Ye deserve a proper bed and a fire ragin’ in the hearth…  no’ this lumpy mess wi’ barely even a plaid to keep ye warm.”

Reaching out my hand, I brushed the curls from his brow and cupped his cheek in my palm, “You know I’m not above sleeping on the ground.”

Though I thanked my lucky stars it wouldn’t come to that just now.

“And I have you to keep me warm,” I nudged him with my toe, making Murtagh cough behind me.

Jamie gave him a look, but his gaze softened as it returned to me, “Aye, well, I only wish I could give ye more.”

My hand moved to the place where one of the baby's heels pressed sharply against my side and I reached for him. His hand moved to mine, slipping beneath it to feel the life within.

“You’ve given me more than I could ever dream,” I whispered hoarsely.

…

Jamie.

“Lay with me?”

The flicker of uncertainty in Claire’s eyes cut me to the quick.

Did she really think I wouldn’t?

Nodding, I made quick work of my own filthy shoon and dropped them beside the entrance to the cove of safety Murtagh and I had built for her.

Her wee nest.

The thought warmed me and brought a smile to my lips as I gingerly crawled in beside my wife.

“Always, mo nighean donn,” I assured her, arranging the plaid around us both as I curved my form around hers.

It dawned on me in an instant that it wasn’t my presence she doubted… it was her ability to fall asleep. She looked dog tired and pale as any winter’s snow, but now that I had her in my arms, her restless spirit was made clear.

Claire shifted her hips, first this way then another, always finding it unsuitable and moving back… then tried adjusting her head and shoulders, first moving closer to me — I received a an accidental elbow to the ribs but didn’t comment — then away again, all without success until she was left completely spent and utterly exhausted.

I had loosened my arms around her, giving her full range of motion to seek the best position for sleep, but now that I knew this was an impossible task — I thought I might have a try.

Pulling her close without ceremony, I tucked her head neatly beneath my chin and curled my knees up to surround her completely. I felt the taut muscles of her back and shoulders begin to loosen against my chest as I twined my fingers between hers, our clasped hands resting gently atop the swell of our children.

A deep, shuddering sigh left her and I knew she’d not last much longer. I squeezed her hand gently, whispering, “I’ve got you, Sorcha… you can rest now, all is well.”

Another ripple of fatigue ran down her spine, her muscles slowly succumbing to the heavy weight of slumber and becoming limp. The vice grip on my forearm loosened, her head slipping back and resting fully against my arm. Her lips parted softly in that first sigh of sleep — in the way of hers that I found so irresistible — and I knew she’d not wake for anything save the second coming of Christ Himself.

I tucked a stray curl back into place behind her ear, brushing a kiss across her cheek, and settled myself more comfortably beside her.

My eyelids were growing heavier and heavier as I caught sight of my godfather. He’d positioned himself between us and the door, far enough away as to give us a measure of privacy but close enough to respond to a call for assistance at the drop of a hat. Everything about his rigid posture made me lose my resolve to stay alert beside my wife and sleep came crashing down around my ears.

It was a shallow, dreamless slumber — the sort where you know you mustn’t drift too far, should you need to be fully wakeful again — and I didn’t think I’d been out long before Claire began to stir in my arms.

She curled inwards, her knees tucking up tight against the swell of our children as a low groan escaped her lips.

The nightmare.

We were each cursed with our own nocturnal demons, but my wife found hers to manifest themselves in reoccurring dreams... the most prominent and prevalent being the one born in the depths of Crainsmuir’s Thieves Hole. It hadn’t stopped twisting and turning in these many months and I would be lying if I said my blood didn’t run cold when she’d tell me of the night’s latest development, sobbing into my chest as though both the bairns and I were truly gone.

“Shh, mo chridhe,” I murmured low, curving myself around her. “Tis but a dream… I’ve got ye.”

Her entire body tensed and her eyelids flickered, but she didn’t wake.

Sweeping away the curls from her brow, I gently brushed my finger along the curve of her cheek, intoning, “Ye’re safe, Sorcha.”

Claire’s eyes opened at her name, yet stared ahead unseeing. The muscles of her jaw worked as she clenched it tight and a short burst of air left her nose in a decided snort. Her hands moved restlessly, reaching for me but then drifting back to her stomach, only to roam up and down and nearly every direction at once.

I covered one hand with my own, twining my fingers through hers — not speaking again, but letting her know I was aware of her turmoil.

Her head snapped towards me at my touch, her eyes widening as wheezed, “Jamie!”

“Aye,” I shifted onto one elbow, bringing my face directly above hers as I hovered above her. “I’m right here… I’ve got you.”

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut again without comment.

Was she fully conscious?

“Claire?” I tested, gazing down at her in concern as her jaw clenched tight.

She didn’t open her eyes so much as a crack but let out a grumbled fuck from between persed lips. I dropped her hand, my own flying to her face. Her eyes did open then at my touch, ever so slightly, and she peered up at me in agony.

Something was terribly wrong.

“Talk to me, Claire,” I begged, my heart racing.

Shoving me away, she thumped the narrow space in front of her and groaned, “Move over here.”

I scrambled around her, careful not to jostle her from her current position but finding it near impossible to wedge myself between her knees and the wall of crates behind me. Somehow managing to accomplish it, I lay nose to nose with her and could now see her flushed face in startling clarity in our deeply shadowed cocoon.

Her breathing remained ragged, with drops of sweat gathering at her temples as she lay rigid in my arms.

“Tell me wha’ to do, mo nighean donn.”

“Make it stop,” her voice cracked, the jagged edge of her supplication knifing across my heart and flaying me wide before her.

My mind spun as my thumb caressed her cheek, wiping away the sudden dampness that I found there. Skimming my hand along her neck and down her spine, I found the fastenings of her skirts and had them free in a moment. I bunched them loosely around her, keeping her warm, but no longer restricting her. I moved to do the same for her stays, but found she’d already started the process.

Pulling the strings completely free, I flung the constricting thing to the side and took her face in my hands.

“A wee bit better?” I tentatively asked, knowing it was nothing compared to the turmoil inside her.

She didn’t respond, having instead retreated miles within herself in the time it took me to undress her, and I did the only thing I could think of to retrieve her.

Kissing her softly to begin with — not wanting to jar her and giving her full opportunity to refuse me — I cupped her cheek in my palm. She shifted, seeking more of me, and I grew more confident in my ministrations.

I slid my fingers into her hair and slowly gathered each pin, intently undoing the neatly coiffed style she’d worked so hard on this morn as I worked to rid the tension from her body. Setting my bounty aside, my hands traveled back down to her hips, digging my thumbs into the muscles that I knew continually plagued her.

A moan bubbled up from deep within her and I knew I was moving in the right direction.

“Aye, tha’s the way,” I crooned as her arms slipped around my neck, her nose nuzzling my cheek.

“Damn it, Jamie,” she sobbed against me. “It hurts.”

I didn’t comment, but nodded and kissed her again, keeping my hands moving as well. A shudder ran down her spine as she nearly swallowed me whole, finding suddenly a respite — an ability to draw from me that which she needed.

And I was only too eager to give it.

Slowly, ever so slowly, her arms loosened around my neck...the taut muscles beneath my fingertips became lax and Claire became limp once more in my arms.

“A dhia, mo chridhe,” I sighed, my lips moving against her neck, “ye scared the life near out of me.”

I felt her groan, her voice dry as she quipped, “Well, it was no picnic for me either, you bloody Scot.”

A measure of relief washed over me, hearing her vocal jab, but reality still hung heavy in the air.

“Tha’ was different, Sorcha,” I whispered hoarsely, my good fingers splaying wide across the curve of her children. “The other pains ye had at the Abbey… they were’na like that.”

Her grip on my arm tightened as she tipped her head back, needing to see my face as much as I needed to see hers. Lifting one hand to my face, her fingers deftly traced my cheek bone, her eyes gazing deep into mine. They were now free from the fog of pain, but instead of clarity, I found agonized turmoil.

I covered her hand with my own, curling my fingers around it as I turned my face to place a kiss in her palm.

…

Claire.

How I longed to close my eyes and slip back into that blessed, deep slumber in my husband’s arms… but every inch of me was now wide awake, whether I liked it or not.

I was now having bonafide contractions… whether I liked it or not.

Swallowing hard, I felt a shudder run down my spine and Jamie instinctively pulled me closer. I did close my eyes then, turning and burying my face in his neck as I hid from his gaze for a moment.

He knew — damn him — without me having to say it out loud. I was rather glad, for I wasn’t entirely sure I could say the word ‘labor’ aloud just now without dissolving into hysterics.

What the bloody hell are you going to do, Beauchamp? I mentally sighed against Jamie’s chest.

Was I really going to have to do this without a midwife? Twice? And while bobbing along in a dingy at sea?!

“Jamie?” my voice cracked, betraying my abject terror.

His hand traveled up my back, lifting to gently curve around the back of my head, “Mo chridhe?”

My mouth opened and shut like a floundering fish, no longer suffocating from the strength of my contraction but the size of my fear. A low rumble started up within him and I knew in an instant he’d heard my unspoken thoughts.

“Aye,” he acknowledged, softly kissed my brow. “But ye canna change things any more than I can make this ship sail faster… although, I’d get out and swim it to France if I thought t’would get ye there faster.”

I couldn't help but smile at that particular image and Jamie must have taken great comfort in it, for he continued.

“Tis my fault, ye ken… I should no’ have taken ye in such a manner last night.”

I snorted, finally moving to look at him once more, “If you recall, James Fraser, I brought you to that pool with the exact purpose of taking you in such a manner… so don’t you dare apologize for it.”

His shoulders began to shake in suppressed laughter and I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Care to share what’s so funny?” I poked him in the ribs.

“You are Sassenach,” he grinned, easily taking hold of both my hands to prevent future attacks and squeezed them gently. “Ye’ve never wanted me so badly… or so openly as ye did last night.”

“Oh,” I commented quite lamely, finding myself blushing for the first time in quite a while.

This made my husband laugh all the harder and I resorted to kicking him in the shins as he currently had possession of my hands.

“Will you help me sit up or are you just going to lie there and find humor in my depraved state?” I quipped, raising a brow.

Jamie eagerly agreed to this and dropped my hands, easily moving himself into a seated position before guiding me into the same. I sat beside him, swaying slightly, and realized a half a moment later that we were completely alone in the captain’s quarters.

“Where’s Murtagh?” an uneasy feeling began to grow in the pit of my stomach as I asked.

“Tis nothin, Sassenach,” Jamie tried to reassure me, but it was clear that he wasn’t overly comfortable with his godfather’s absence either. “Jus checkin’ in wi’ the Captain is all… he’ll ken how long til we reach Le Havre when he gets back.”

The urgent, persistent twinge started up again at the base of my spine and I swore under my breath.

“Too long,” I pronounced, reaching for Jamie’s arm and taking a firm hold of it.

He studied me for a moment, then nodded and took a deep breath.

“Then we’ll take it one step at a time… aye?” His hand covered mine, “Together.”

...

Murtagh. A Good Deal Later.

The door swung closed behind me with a solid bang, shutting out a snowy stramash unlike any I’d ever seen. The warmth of the Captain’s quarters rolled over me like the tumultuous sea outside its walls and I sagged against the door for a moment, letting it thaw my fingers and tip of my nose.

Hrmph, I snorted, wiping the dripping appendage on my sleeve and ridding myself of near an inch of snow and ice.

“Tis jus’ me,” I greeted, unable to see them from the room’s one and only entrance.

I heard movement and subdued voices, but no answer to my call. Frowning, I quickly navigated my way around boxes and crates until I reached them — and stopped dead in my tracks.

“Iffrin,” I muttered as I took in the pile of Claire’s discarded clothes and found her in nothing but her shift and Jamie’s plaid, clinging to him as if life itself depended on it.

Her time had come.

I raked a hand across my face and sank down onto the closest crate. It was lower to the floor than I thought, making it seem as though it weren’t there at all, and a wheezing oof left my lips as my hind end finally found it.

When I looked up, both Jamie and Claire were gazing at me with no small amount of amusement. I disregarded my godson’s jesting smile with ease and instead turned my attention to the young woman who had stolen both our hearts.

Her face was pale, with furrows etched deep in the usually smooth plane of her brow. The spark of amusement in her eyes was dwindling quickly and in its place grew a consuming agony that I couldn’t bear to see.

“Yer pains have begun, then, mo leannan?” I asked unnecessarily, my voice hitching at the endearment she’d earned in our time together.

Claire nodded, trying to give me her best attempt at a smile. It wobbled and faded as she pressed her forehead against Jamie’s, her eyes sliding shut as she commented hoarsely, “They seem to be in a hurry.”

My heart turned over, skipping a beat before clattering on again as I heard the Captain’s words echo in my mind.

We’ll be lucky to find Le Havre at all in this storm… twould be another day a’ least on fair seas, but now? Best be prayin tha’ my men dinna toss yer lady overboard to appease Neptune himself.

Jamie’s gaze found mine again, this time much more subdued, and asked, “What’d ye learn, then?”

I lifted one shoulder and tried to wave him off. It was nothing I wanted to share while Claire was in such a state.

“A goistidh?” he insisted, lifting a brow.

Taking his cue, I slipped into the Gaelic, telling him of my conversations with the Captain and his superstitious men. He took it about as well as I had, working to keep his frustrations in check as Claire seemed to regain some composure and alertness.

“I dinna think we’ll make it in time,” Jamie kept his voice even, but his unease was palpable. “We’ll have to help her deliver the bairns.”

While I’d expected as much, his second pronouncement took me completely by surprise and I burst, “We?! Ye canna be serious, lad! She needs a midwife, not a couple of numpties wi’ no idea what they’re about!”

Claire sighed heavily and I realized too late that I’d said that in English. I began to apologize, but she waved me off, interrupting me.

“You may have no idea what you’re about, my dear Murtagh,” she muttered, seeking a comfortable seated position, “but Jamie does because I’ve told him what will need doing… and you’ll listen to him and do as he says, is that clear?”

She’d stopped shifting to spear me with a look that had me agreeing in an instant.

The look of relief on her face was nearly my undoing and I assured her, “I’ll do whatever ye need, mo rùinean beag...  I promise it.”

Claire reached out her hand to me and I plucked it up, brushing a kiss across her knuckles.

“I know you will,” she whispered hoarsely, squeezing my hand. “You always do.”

[banashee]

Hi Folks, welcome to my third fic for the Archival Pride 2021 project! Look at their tumblr for more info :) @archivalpride

Archival Pride 2021, Week three (June 15-21) Prompts: Love Languages, Doubt, Post-Canon, Intimacy, Home

The key words I've used here are Post-Canon, Home and Intimacy

-

- Off-screen Arguments - scars - Trauma recovery - brief but canon-typical violence - References to Canon-Stabby-Stabby in MAG200 - mention of coma, no details - reference to homophobic Parent

-

 A Second Chance

 Some days, it still feels like a dream. That they are here, together, that they get to have this. A home, a life - a second chance at everything.

 It’s been almost two years since the panopticon collapsed in an explosion, almost two years since Jon and Martin woke up… Here. “Somewhere else” they called it then, but now they simply call this place “home”. More precisely, they do so because first and foremost, they are home to each other.

 Even back when in the Institute, when both of them successfully managed to convince themselves their feelings for each other were one-sided, the few and far moments where they actually had time to themselves were precious. Even when Jon had woken up from his coma and Martin was working for Peter Lukas, just a small brush of hands or a quick hug in the hallway had felt like the only safe place left in the world. Just for a moment, before they had to move on, more alone than ever before.

 By the time Martin was deep in the Lonely and Jon had pulled him out, taken his hand and not let go until they were safely in Daisy’s little safehouse in the Scottish Highlands where no one would be able to find or hurt them. Or at least, that had been the plan… It only lasted for a little while.

 Still, even though the end of the world started there, the days and weeks they had before are precious to Jon and Martin to this day. It’s those weeks where they had a chance to really get to know each other, outside of work and countless terrifying encounters with the Fears.

 Days spent talking in front of the fireplace, curled up around each other or not talking at all. Especially on the bad days, when everything hits them at once, it is a little bit easier to deal with everything while they’re together. Cooking together, stepping around each other in the kitchen when they tried recipes neither of them had ever tried before, laughing at and playfully chiding each other when everything turns into a big mess.

 Hugs and kisses shared at the most random of times, just because they realized they can do this now.

 Over time, they shared a few personal bits and pieces. After the first time they  shared the bed, to be close and to keep the nightmares at bay, they started talking about their needs and boundaries.

 “I love you, and I love being close to you. But I, I also need you to know that… Well, I won’t be able to give you more than this. I don’t…  sleep with people. In, well, in      that     sense.” Jon had blushed and stammered his way through explaining what Asexuality means to him, and it is met with love and acceptance. He started to breathe a little bit easier then.

 A little while later, Martin told him about the disaster that was his coming out to his Mum. He didn’t mean to, he said that day in the safehouse with a bitter smile as he shook his head, but he’d hit a breaking point. One too many homophobic remarks, one too many unhappy sneers.

 “One day, I just. Snapped. Couldn’t take the bullshit anymore. I don’t even remember exactly what I      said     to her, but she was... “ Martin shook his head.

 “Not happy.” He laughed, but it wasn’t happy by any means. Jon understood all too well, and reached out with one hand, an offer to hold on tight, which Martin happily took him up on.

 “She didn’t… Like me very much before, I don’t think. Or, well, I      know     that now, but… But ever since I told her I am gay, that certainly didn’t help things. She never met any of my boyfriends or anything, but, well. That’s robably for the best.”

 Only a short while after this conversation, the world ended. After months and months of walking through a hellscape, they finally   arrived back in what once was London. Back at the institute - the tower of the Watcher.

 Once they got their chance to kill Elias and destroy Jonah Magnus, things… Went differently than planned.

 Even years after the fact, long long after, Jon and Martin wake up from vivid nightmares. The memories, both real and twisted, leave them sobbing and calling out for each other. Each time, they end up wide awake for hours, holding onto one another to try and keep the other from getting lost again. Dealing with everything is very much a work in progress.

 Guilt eats Jon up from the inside. He is talking about it, at least he does now, but the feelings are still there, sitting on his chest and taking his breath away. The guilt about walking off on his own and leaving everyone else, including Martin behind is one of the worst he’s ever felt, and even though they have talked and worked through this particular issue for a long time, Jon is still struggling with it. The main problem is that didn’t see another way, did what he thought was best. Now he knows there wasn’t a right decision in the situation they found themselves in, only damage control.

 But on a personal level? Yes, he screwed up, and he knows it.

 The scar on his chest hurts those nights, like a fresh wound. Jon finds himself clutching it, without even realizing that he is doing so. If he was, he would try to stop himself from it, but every time his hands rub over the place in the middle of his chest, when breath leaves his lungs for a while, he can tell that Martin’s eyes go blank and he hates himself a little bit more for having caused so much pain. .

 How often Martin wakes up in the middle of the night, dreaming again and again about that fateful day that ended with him stabbing the love of his life with a knife, he has long lost count. But it hurts, worse than anything else, and the memory alone sends him spiralling for a long time.

 If the Fears had any more power here, there is no doubt that Martin would find himself surrounded by thick, white fog those nights, cold and damp and utterly alone even with another person in the room.

 He’d spent months - years really - keeping it together just to keep going, doing what needed to be done and be there for the people around him. It’s what he’s always done, isn’t used to anything else, but Jon knows him well enough to recognize the signs and stop Martin before he destroys himself any further.

 “Let me take care of you.      Please    - You don’t have to keep going all the time.”

 Somehow, even with all the trauma and heartbreak, the two of them manage to form one functioning human being together when they can’t manage to be one on their own. On the really bad days, that is enough.

 Martin and Jon  have their hiccups - but they know just how much they adore one another, and that is usually enough to make them see reason even when things get hard.

       Especially in the first few weeks Somewhere Else, there is a lot of confusion and pain. Years of trauma and injuries they are unable to explain to anyone, because how do you explain even a fraction of the fears and the apocalypse they have walked through? None of it has happened here. This is a world that has never ended, and although the Fears certainly exist here, they are in the shadows, where they belong. As far as they can tell, none of the rituals have happened here, and the entities just. Exist, but don’t do nearly as much harm as Jon and Martin have experienced.

 So seeking out help, let alone from professionals, is hard. Lord knows, they need it - it takes the two of them countless trials to find individual therapists for themselves, and even longer to find one to attend for couples counseling who won’t make their skin crawl with anxiety. There are issues that need to be addressed, and it is hard to start somewhere.

 Some sessions are much, much harder than others. Unpacking the baggage is logical, it is something that needs to be done in order to deal with the trauma, but for a long time, it just hurts. It hurts, having to open up about things that are so deeply personal, and even though both Martin and Jon have come up with cover stories for their situation, they still have to work on all the emotions and the things that happened to them and their loved ones.

 Some days, either one or both of them will come home from a therapy session and simply collapse into bed. Most times, all they want then is to hold each other. Other times, they talk, but more often than not, being able to listen to each other's heartbeat as they shake apart or fall asleep from exhaustion is enough.

 Especially at first, when everything is still fresh, when the scars are still pink, raised and puckering, things are hard.

 Surprising no one, coming from a literal hellscape into a normal, relatively calm world, is a total whiplash. Things are tense between Jon and Martin for a bit. They want to stay together, because they love each other deeply - there was never any doubt, not even a bit. But there are some situations, issues and decisions that they need to adress.

 While things are still sore, it results in a number of exhausted, tearful arguments that leave both of them absolutely drained and limp from overwhelming sadness. The arguments themselves never last long, because both Martin and Jon are quick to make up and apologize after, but the feelings of exhaustion and heartbreak stay for long after.

 The arguments pull on wounds and it hurts. There really is no other way to put it. More often than not, Martin and Jon spend the night with no sleep, wrapped around each other so tightly it is almost painful. Holding onto one another is all they can do sometimes to keep each other from falling apart at the seams.

 Weeks turn into months, months turn into a year and so on. Both Jon and Martin have come a long way since they arrived here - they no longer call it “Somewhere else”. Their trauma still sits deep, but has become much, much more of a quiet background pain that occasionally comes out to play, rather than being a constant, stabbing sensation that leaves them bleeding and breathless, unable to function. Those days, thankfully, have become rare.

 They start to live, instead of just surviving.

 It is around that time that they decide they want to get out of the city. London, whether back in the old world or here, is not a quiet place to be, but now that they are free, they take the opportunity and run with it.

 A little bit of time passes, and between days spent walking hand in hand through the nearby park, nights curled up on the couch with books and tea and day jobs and even occasional evenings in the pub with coworkers, they find themselves standing in their empty apartment. All there is left is a single cardboard box and a potted plant, both of which are held by the two men who spent the last year and a half there.

 “...Jon?”

 “Yes, Love?”

 “I had no idea we had      so much     stuff, until we started to pack it all up.”

 “We do. I’m… Not entirely sure when that happened to be honest.”

 “....I believe somewhere between us starting to actually       do     things, and you discovering that tiny bookshop which I’m convinced should have been empty by now, thanks to you.”

 “Yes. And also the plants. Don’t forget your leafy children, Martin.” Jon leans into Martin’s upper arm for a moment, a small smile on his face. He would have pulled him into an embrace, but since Martin holds the last of their moving boxes, filled to the brim with books, and Jon’s arms are currently wrapped around the pot of a fairly tall dracea, just leaning in must be enough. The plant pokes far over his shoulder, long, dark green leaves lazily moving with him as he holds onto it, tight and secure.

 ‘Martha’ says a small, handwritten label on the pot, carefully stuck near the edge of the pot. Giving the plants human names had started out as a joke, a throwaway sentence, but then they bought more and more plants, and so a new tradition was born.

 “...To be fair, I had no idea there were so many until we had to get them all into the van.”

 “Oh, I’m sure you’ll find plenty of space in the new house that looks empty. Not for long though, knowing you.”

 Martin smiles at him, propping the box against himself. This thing is heavy - as small as their old flat is, it hasn’t stopped Jon from starting to form their own library throughout the living room. Truth be told, he is looking forward to seeing it expand once they’re settled into their new space. It'll be a fun opportunity to bicker over the proper way to sort them.

 (“By      colour    ?? Martin, Dear, Love of my life, what the       fuck    . You’ve worked in a      Library    for years!” Jon will ramble on in disbelief, and Martin will cackle to himself, knowing he managed to rile his boyfriend up about something that isn’t important at all. He knows they actually agree that books need to be sorted by Author’s names. But where would be the fun in admitting that right away?)

 “Ready to go?” he asks, and waits for his partner's affirmative nod before the two of them leave the apartment, for one last time.

 It’s time for a new chapter in their new life, and they’re more than ready to start it.

 The first morning in their new house, they are woken up by a fresh breeze coming through their bedroom window. It carries the scent of pine needles and damp earth with it. The birds outside are already singing the song of their people and have been doing so for hours, long before most humans are conscious. Waking up like this is bliss, even though the bed is about the only thing that is actually done in this room.

 There are boxes everywhere and their wardrobe is only halfway assembled, but the bed is comfortable and decked out in fresh covers that still smell of washing powder. Everything is fresh and new and feels a little bit like they’re on a holiday. Maybe someday, it will become their new normal, but as of now, it feels like a fresh start.

 As always, it’s Martin who wakes up first. He can smell the fresh, woodsy air, and it relaxes him in an instant. There is a small forest right by their house. It is at the end of the street where only a few more old, slightly lopsided houses are nearby. It is perfect for them.

 On their search for a new home, it was clear they wanted to go somewhere more rural, somewhere remote. Ever since the Lonely, Martin is struggling with too many people around him. He can go about his everyday life if he has to, but days with too many people and too much social interaction leave him sad and exhausted from pretending to be fine and peachy with it.

 It doesn’t help that many of the houses they looked at are seaside cottages. As beautiful as they look on the photos, conveniently taken on days with clear blue skies, this is England. There are way more rainy days filled with grey, suffocating fog, and that alone is enough to send Martin back into a full blown panic attack. It’s too much, way too much like the Lonely. Needless to say, they filtered their searches accordingly.

 Eventually, everything clicks into place and they find their dream house in a small residential area with little traffic and even less people. The quiet of the countryside makes both of the breathe easier-  it reminds them a little bit of their time in Scotland, even though the landscape isn’t nearly as raw here. They may or may not have found a field of very good cows nearby though.

 The cool breeze of the morning air makes Martin shiver a bit, and he pulls the covers a little bit tighter around himself and Jon. Predictably, his partner takes this as an invitation to adjust his octopus grip that he has around him to get even closer as he sleepily grumbles,

 “...Just five more minutes.”

 “Make it an hour and we’re good, Love.” With gentle fingers, he starts to detangle the long strands of hair that surround Jon. There is even more grey than there was only a few years ago - no surprise, what with all of the stress and trauma they have lived through.

 All that Martin gets in response to this is a low hum as Jon tightens his hold around him once more as he breathes a small trail of kisses along the side of his neck and up his jaw.

 He knows that Morning-Jon is not talkative, at all, but he knows him long and well enough to understand what he is telling him, even when he is half asleep himself.

 “I love you, too.”

[hypnofur1]

Influencing the Influencer

By Hypnofur

“I have to say, I am loving retirement. This is my first year of being retired and it was everything I dreamed it would be and more. Everyone should retire at 36!” Dan joked into the microphone. The two radio guys laughed harder than they should have. While Dan knew that regular people couldn’t retire at 36, he wasn’t joking about loving retirement. He had been playing football since second grade. He enjoyed a 15 year career in the NFL. 13 of those years were in Cincinnati, but the last two were in Kansas City… where a SuperBowl was won in his last season.

Being part of a Super Bowl team, even as a backup like Dan was by the end of his career, makes you royalty in that city for the rest of time. Heck, ask the ’85 Bears about that. Especially in cities that love their team as much as KC. Dan always wanted to win one for Cincy, the city that he truly identified as home now, but that was never even close to being in the cards.

However, Dan was the only high profile guy from the Super Bowl team to retire after the big win. The rest of the guys pretty much stayed on the team, and were in the Super Bowl again this year. As such, all the KC radio and media people were desperate for a “Chiefs Insider” to talk to. Dan was flown down to Tampa for the week to do radio, tv, etc. He was considering a career in broadcasting, so this all-expense paid trip was a nice little trial run. The only downside of it, was that Casey didn’t come with him.

Dan’s wife was going to go to Tampa with him, and make a ton of Instagram videos and posts from Tampa. She was incredibly excited about it, as was the social media company that employed her to do all these blogs. Her sweetness, honesty, great style, and knockout natural beauty was evident to anyone who saw her, whether in real life or on a screen. She had sort of become “Cincy’s Sweetheart” over the years, so when influencers became a thing, she was in high demand. The Tampa vlogs were likely going to set records for likes. However, Dan’s mom broke her ankle in a fall the week before.

Casey insisted she stay home to help Dan’s mom. This is why Dan was head over heels for her. Yes, she was gorgeous. But she was also the sweetest, most wonderful wife in the world. While all the other players would have girlfriends and hook ups in each city, Dan never did. He was completely and utterly faithful to Casey.

With all this said, while Casey didn’t go to Tampa, she had to vlog about something. Trips to Dan’s Mom’s house during the day to help her out wouldn’t make good content. Such was the topic of conversation as the couple chatted on the phone Friday morning.

“So did you find anything to vlog about?” Dan asked.

“Ugh, I think so. They really want us to push groupon experience things. They gave DeAndra groupon passes to a comedy show, so we are going to do that.” Casey told her husband. She meant to sound a bit more cheery as she did so. She was trying so hard to not show her disappointment over not being in Tampa. She didn’t want to make him feel bad.

“Oh yeah, is Darnell going? If the dude is funny, the sound of Darnell’s laugh when he gets roaring is the only thing anyone in that place is going to hear! Hopefully the dude doesn’t make Bengals jokes. Darnell will get up on that stage!” Dan laughed, as did Casey.

“Did you drink tons of water last night?” Casey asked. She was always concerned about him.

“Hahah. I did. A whole river. I’m doing good. Three more days babe, then I am home to you. I miss you so much.” Dan said, very truthfully.

“Me too. I’ll tell DeAndra and Darnell you said hi” she smiled as she hung up.

Dan missed her terribly, but he was at least pleased that he’d have her vlog to watch later that night. He loved watching those. However, it was Friday night of Super Bowl week. Dan had a whirlwind day. He was treated like a Chiefs Legend because he was wearing that Super Bowl ring. He even got invited to a dinner with Joe Montana! He couldn’t pass that up. Dinner was great. Drinks were had, and not enough water was consumed. Dan passed out when he got back to the hotel.

It was late the next morning when Dan finally awoke. He realized that he had missed Casey’s Instagram vlog. He was surprised he didn’t have a text about that from her. He checked her Insta page. There wasn’t one from last night. That was really odd. He started to get a little nervous.

He texted her. “Hi, you ok? No vlog from last night?”

Fortunately, he got an immediate return text “Just filmed it this morning. Posting now J”

That put him at ease. He took a quick shower, and then grabbed his phone to see his beautiful wife’s angelic face. She was in her car. For some reason, that’s where people filmed themselves. Dan never understood why that was a thing.

“Hey guys, its Casey! Hope you are all having a great weekend! I know it is Super Bowl weekend, and that is super exciting for tomorrow! But, I wanted to tell you guys about a great experience me and my friends had thanks to groupon last night! My hubby is out of town, and I was feeling kind of sad, but then my friends called and said they had a groupon for an awesome experience. Totally changed the course of my weekend!

So we went to Funny Bone at Liberty Center, which is such a cute place! Anyway, my friend DeAndra told me the comedian was actually a stage hypnotist named Arnold Denton, aka The Amazing Hypno-natti. When I heard hypnotist, I was freaking out! Oh, and yeah, I found the name ‘Hypno-natti’ lame as well, but trust me guys, he is soooooo amazing!

So anyway guys, when we got in, I decided to put my fear aside and volunteer. Seriously guys, it was one of the craziest experiences I’ve ever had. Before we were even brought up on stage, we had to sign a waiver that basically said the hypnotist is not responsible for any injuries that may occur and all that other fun legal stuff. Guys, believe me when I tell you that I cannot recall a moment in my in my life that I was more nervous when I was up on that stage. The hypnotist explained to us, and the rest of the audience, that what we were about to experience was extremely different. Some of us would remember exactly what happened, and some of us wouldn’t. In total, there were probably about like twenty five of us lined up in front of the stage and the audience was told to be completely silent.

Right before we began, the hypnotist told us that we would be “under” for about a half an hour, but our bodies would react as if it had been asleep for 8 hours. So crazy! From what I can remember, it went a little like this:

We were told to sit down and just relax. With our eyes closed, we were told that we should feel this ‘energy of relaxation’ that would begin to pool at our feet and then work its way up to our body. All the while, there was this really strange music that was playing and the hypnotist was talking to us. After about 5 minutes he had us open our eyes and raise our arms horizontally and lock our fingers together so that we made a ball with our fists. At this point, we are still not under, so we were all aware of our surroundings and what not. Next thing I know, Hypno-natti is coming straight down the line and thrusting our hands down into our laps and pushing our heads down onto the shoulder of the person sitting to our left. It was about my turn and the last thing I can remember about this part is him yelling “Sleep!”

After the whole intro, we woke up and he was kind of pacing the stage and the audience was giggling and stuff and I can remember being super confused. I seriously thought that the show ended and I was actually asleep the whole time. As he was pacing, he was just casually talking to the audience and then he said “spark” (what I now know is a “trigger word”) and just like that it felt as though the wrath of God had come through the leg of the chair I was sitting in and electrocuted me in the butt! It hurt so bad; not like a long pain, but just like a jolt of electricity. I stood up so fast and everybody in the place was just rolling! I looked around and it was just me and another guy standing and grabbing our butts. He did this a couple more times and then triggered some of the other people and the whole time I just remember being super confused. At one point, I remember crying, because I had fallen deeply, madly in love with him, and he was dancing with someone else. It was soo crazy guys! Long story short, the hypnotist basiscally made us his personal puppets and we were slightly embarrassed, but it was all in good fun. My friends and I totally laughed about it all night after. It was a great experience that was all made possible through groupon!! Swipe up and see what other fun experiences they can save you a ton on. Luv you guys!!!” She concluded with a kiss of her fingers then the peace sign.

Dan loved to see her and hear her voice. He was wishing it wasn’t 48 full hours until he’d get to see her again. But it was. Those 48 hours went quickly at least. Frankly, it was a whirlwind. By the time he walked in the door of his spacious Cincinnati home Monday morning, he was exhausted – but so glad to hug, squeeze, and kiss his gorgeous brunette wife.

“Tell me everything!!” Casey said as she put some coffee on. She could tell by his face that he needed it.

Dan laughed as he admitted he exhausted. It had been quite a week of late night dinners, Super Bowl parties, and media work. It was terrific, but it wiped him out. However, he happily launched into his diatribe. He told her about all the radio shows he went on, and how he even did a couple TV spots. Casey squealed when he told her that he plugged her vlogs on all the local Cincinnati shows.

“ooooh My big media mogul!” Casey flirted. Her big brown eyes gazing into Dan’s. Then her phone beeped with a text, which was a constant occurrence. She grabbed it and checked the text. It was at this point that her expression changed. She became completely focused on the phone. It was like she suddenly forgot Dan was there.

“Who���s that?” Dan asked, realizing this was strange. Was someone hurt? Was something wrong? Casey didn’t answer. She just typed a couple things on her phone, and then walked upstairs, not even addressing Dan as she left. Dan found this very strange, but he also had to pee really bad. He figured he’d see what the deal was, but had to handle that situation briefly before anything else.

Much to his shock, by the time he got up to the bedroom, Casey was naked and wearing headphones. She was sprawled out on their bed, reclining in a mound of fur pillows. Naked and eyes closed with her blue bullet vibrator that they had bought as a sexy toy at their anniversary. Dan understandably figured that this was a “welcome home” sex game. He found himself immediately getting hard.

"I’m going deeper and deeper." Casey said quietly. Dan assumed she was talking about the vibrator going into her pussy. This was unusual sex talk from her, but he was still into it.

She moans, "Going deeper and deeper. I am deeply hypnotized. "

Dan was stunned. She was sooooooo freaking sexy with a nipple in one hand and that toy teasing the other one. But what did she say? Did she say hypnotized?

“Deeply hypnotized and deep under your control.” She whispers.

Dan heard that and got more concerned, but then couldn’t help but notice that he sound of the vibrator changed! She had turned up the setting. Soon, she was pinching her breasts and her hips are starting to rock slowly. She was moaning and purring. Dan was so hard he couldn’t think straight.

Casey turned the toy up to level 3; as fast as it goes. The next 4 settings are just various combinations of the 3 vibration speeds. Her hips were moving faster, her breasts were bouncing and she was having a hard time keeping the toy on her clit. Her teeth were clenched and she could feel the orgasm start to creep over her skin. . Her chest was heaving as she changed the setting on the toy again.

Slow, Slow, Slow, medium, medium, medium, fast, fast, fast

Slow, Slow, Slow, medium, medium, medium, fast, fast, fast

Slow, Slow, Slow, medium, medium, medium, fast, fast, fast

Slow, Slow, Slow, medium, medium, medium, fast, fast, fast

With hypnotic words and commands being fed into her mind, the orgasm raced up her torso and arched her body off the bed. Her neck muscles tightened and her eyes pinched shut as she screamed out loud and held the toy in place right on top of her clit.

"OOOOOOOOOOOOhHHHHHHHHHH, OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! I server Master Hypno-natti!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I belong to Master Hypno-natti!!!!!!!!!!!! OOOOHHHHMYGODMASTERRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Shock from Dan.

Awe from Dan.

Lust from Dan.

Fear from Dan.

Anger from Dan… and anger won.

He grabbed the headphones and ripped them off her. He yelled right into the microphone. “This is her husband, you sick fuck! Stay the fuck away from us, or I’ll rip your motherfucking arms off!!!!”

There was a click, and Dan knew that the person on the other end of that phone was gone. He turned his attention to Casey, who was now glistening with sweat, and still breathing heavy.

“Cay – Cay, wake up babe. Cay” he said, shaking his wife.

She eventually stirred, opened her big brown eyes and stared back at her husband. “Dan, what’s going on?” she asked.

“This is going to sound nuts, babe. But I think the hypnotist from the other night, like triggered you into masturbating for him on the phone.” Dan explained carefully. He wasn’t sure how his Catholic, surprisingly conservative wife would handle this manipulation.

He watched her face as the realization of what happened washed over her. He held his breath as he expected the tears to start rolling. Instead, she looked at him wide eyed. Then her beautiful big brown eyes slowly went down to his crotch.

“I missed you” she whispered, as she stared at her husband’s erection.

Confusion from Dan.

Fear from Dan.

Love from Dan.

Lust from Dan… and lust won.

He went down and made love to his wife. They kissed passionately, like the reunited lovers they were. Dan couldn’t remember the last time he was this turned on. He couldn’t wait any longer, and inserted himself right into his wife’s already very wet pussy. He glided right in. He didn’t last long in there. Within 30 seconds, he had finished. Casey giggled and gave him a loving hug. He crashed on to the bed beside her. Planning to only take a minute to catch his breath and then have a talk with his wife about the whole hypnotist thing, Dan accidentally fell sound asleep. The crazy week of the Super Bowl was just too much. He was out like a light, he didn’t even hear Casey get a text...

Dan slept for a good two and a half hours. He woke up to Casey lovingly rubbing his back.

“Hey babe, if you sleep too long, you won’t be able to get to sleep tonight. Your schedule will be all wacky.” She said lovingly. He knew she was right. She was always taking care of him.

Dan turned around in the bed and smiled at his beautiful wife. She had gotten freshened up, her clothes were back on and she was all together. God, she was so beautiful. Like a brunette angel.

“Hey, try this” she said, handing Dan a cup of tea. “It is a new chamomile tea they want us to vlog about. It’s actually reeaalllly good!” Casey said excitedly. Dan took the tea and tried it. He wasn’t a tea guy, but… anything for Casey.

“Hey, look babe, we have to talk about that Hypno-natti guy. I think he’s like still playing with your head” Dan said. He had always been direct. “When I came upstairs, you were on the phone with him I think, and you were, you know…”

“Playing with myself?” Casey said with a devilish, but so cute grin. She didn’t usually say things like that.

“Yeah” Dan said, surprised she said that out loud. He felt his dick stir a bit.

“Seriously babe, you are going to love that tea” Casey encouraged. Dan took another sip. It was pretty good.

“So, that was hot to see, I’ll admit, but you can’t have some guy like… controlling you to do sex stuff” Dan said, surprised he needed to map it out to her to this point.

Casey nodded. Then she looked at the bed sheet starting to tent around Dan’s groin. She laughed. “Well well, me thinks he doth protest too much” she teased. “OMG, I forgot to tell you. I saw the BEST movie on HBO Max when you were gone!” she said exuberantly.

“HBO Max? Babe, we should really deal with this hypnotist thing.” Dan said, what the hell was going on? His head was feeling a bit tingly. Boy, he must still be tired.

“I know Dan, and we will. I’m sorry, I have just missed you soo much. I saw this movie, and it was like, really sexy. And I can see that you are, you know… turned on right now” she said as she gently stroked his growing hard on.

“We can deal with this hypno stuff later. But right now, I am in the mood, and you are in the mood, and I want to show you the sexiest things I’ve ever seen on screen. Finish your tea and we can check this out” Casey said as she leaned into a sensual kiss with her husband.

Dan was a very smart man. He went to Notre Dame. He knew something was seriously fucked up here. But he was a MAN. And the curiosity of what kind of movie could have been so hot that it got her acting like this was just too curious for him to ignore. Against his better judgement, he let his beautiful wife lead him to their home theater room. He felt his head spin as he stood up from the bed.

“Take a seat in the middle” Casey directed with another long sensual kiss before turning on the surround sound and the media player. Dan’s eyes were glued to her. She was walking around such sexy confidence. He had never seen her like this. What the hell was in this movie???

Satisfied that the AV system was on and playing, Casey sat down in the large velvet chair next to her husband’s. The giant screen was black for a while, and Dan noticed that there was a humming coming from the speakers. The humming was vibrating through this very core. It felt… warm? Was that right? Soon there was a black and white spiral on the screen. What kind of HBO Max thing is this? Dan thought. Then he remembered the hypnotist. Wait, what the fuck? He went to protest, but he was becoming enthralled by the whirling spiral that had become the only thing in the room. He could feel it hypnotizing him, warm waves of relaxation moving out from it into his opening mind. Hypnotizing him. Hypnotizing Casey. Hypnotizing them with the way it spun around and around, always going deeper.

This was how it felt to be hypnotized? Dan thought to himself. He never could have dreamed how nice it was. How good it felt to be under hypnosis, under hypnotic control. He knew who the voice belonged to now, that it was Hypno-natti talking to them as they watched in a deep hypnotic state. Hypno-natti was amazing! Sooo amazing. Hypno-natti was the master of the fascinating, hypnotic spiral that controlled their minds.. He was telling them that it was time to submit their entire mind and body now, to go into a trance.

Dan knew he didn’t want to do that, but he felt a deep desire to obey, an overwhelming urge to submit. Pleasing Hypno-natti was most important. To go into a trance for Hypno-natti. Hypno-naitti’s voice was telling them to prepare to surrender totally to his hypnotic power. The spiral was turning faster now. Dan felt all his thoughts begin to move down into it. He could feel the intense hypnotic influence reaching out for his mind and he couldn’t help but submit. Faster and faster, round and round. He was falling into it. Falling faster and faster. She could see only an endless spiral in front of him now, a deep whirling tunnel that pulled him in as he stared into it. Hypno-natti’s voice was controlling their thoughts, hypnotizing them into total obedience.. There was only the spiral. And the voice. The whirling spiral. The soothing voice. Hypno-natti’s voice. Their master. Dan knew he must obey. Casey knew she must obey her master. They were hypnotized, so deeply and completely.

Next thing Dan knew, he was somehow in the foyer. When had he left the theater room? There was a knock at the door. He answered. There was a small scrawny guy about 10 years older than him standing in the doorway.

“Can I help you?” Dan asked, his head still cloudy.

“I’m the Amazing Hypno-natti” the man said. His majestic voice now very familiar to the former NFL start. “Invite me in” he commanded.

“Please, come in” Dan said immediately, stepping out of the way.

Casey had entered the foyer when she heard the knock. When she saw Hypno-natti, she was immediately overcome with desire. He was soooo sexy. The sexiest man ever born. She immediately felt her pussy moisten and her nipples get sensitive. She flirtatiously played with her hair and smiled at him.

“Hello my darling Casey” he said as he took her in. She was so incredibly beautiful with her gorgeous brunette hair, big brown eyes, and perfect trim figure.

Dan knew this wasn’t right. He could sense the attraction between them. What the hell? She was his wife. “Look buddy, I-”

“Dan, go into trance” Hypno-natti said authoritatively. Dan said nothing, but his hands fell to his sides.

“Casey, I am your Master. You desire me above anything else.” Hypno-natti said, feeling very confident that both parties in the couple were completely under his hypnotic sway.

He moved into Casey, kissing her neck gently. She was too lost in him to look over at her husband, who was still still standing next to her with a glazed, entranced look in his eyes.

At Hypno-natti’s direction, the three went upstairs to the bedroom. At this point, the hypnotist commanded Dan. "Take off your wife’s pants and panties”.

Dan rose to action slowly. "Yes, Sir," he said in a soft, deferential voice as he knelt in front of her and pulled down the black yoga pants and little satin panties that were meant for his homecoming.

“Lay her on the bed” Hypno-natti said as he took off his own pants. Dan complied and then went to stand up against the wall when instructed to do so. All this, despite the 10 or so inches of height and almost 150lbs of muscle that Dan had on the hypnotist.

Hypno-natti descended upon her, his face directly in front of hers. His eyes boring into her own. "Submit to my influence, Casey. Submit to my hypnotic power. Submit to Hypno-natti. Submit to hypnosis” he said as he again rhythmically put his cock against her body.

"Very, very good, Casey. You're blissfully floating, deeply in my erotic thrall, open to all my commands. Feeling so wonderful as you obey me. Realizing now that nothing seems important but obeying me, because it feels so wonderful, so sexual. You want the sexy feeling of obeying me, don't you, Casey?"

"Yes. I want to obey." She repeated happily, lost in lust.

"Very good Casey. The more obedient you are, the more wonderful you will feel. Only pleasing me matters now, nothing else. All you want now is the wonderful, sexual, floating feeling of obeying my voice. All you want is to be deeply under my control and to obey me. Tell me now what you want, Casey."

"Deeply under your control. Obey you."

"Do you want me inside you?" he asked the hypnotized wife.

"Yes!" Casey answered, no longer caring for her dignity, her marriage, or for anything but the prospect of being ravished by her master.

The man poked the head of his penis against her quivering opening, slight hip movements just threatening to penetrate her, but not quite.

"Tell your husband how badly you want me to fuck you."

Casey shut her eyes, ashamed of the words she knew she had to offer. "I want him to fuck me!" she offered to the room.

The man pushed her head to the side, making her stare at her husband, still standing against the wall, his penis slowly inching its way to a semi-erection with the spectacle. "Say, 'Dan, I need Hypno-natti’s hypnotic dick inside me.'"

"Honey!" she mustered. Pausing, unbelieving of her own abandon. "I need Hypno-natti’s hypnotic big dick inside me! I neeeed it!!"

With one sharp thrust, the man invaded her with the full length of his modest cock, and Casey cried out in surrender at the explosion of pleasure. He brought his face down to hers, leaning in as if to kiss her, his breath hot on her face, and slowly slid his dick out, his rock-hard shaft grinding against her achingly swollen G-spot. As she raised her lips to accommodate him, he pulled his face away teasingly and thrust himself violently into her again, eliciting another loud pre-orgasmic cry. For what seemed like an eternity, they kept up this erotic dance of desire and denial, his hands caressing her hair, the almost gentle play of his face so close to hers contrasting exquisitely with the force of his thrusts. Finally, he brought his lips to meet hers and kissed her deeply, the lustiness of his tongue's exploration telling her that he was just as aroused by her as she was by him. His cock driving into her more insistently now, faster, even deeper it seemed.

And she loved it - there was no use denying it to herself. The hypnotic power of his eyes, their entrancing gaze. Now the hypnotist was pulling her head back by her hair as he fucked her, running his tongue up and down her neck. Then unleashing her and licking her all over her face. Making her feel so owned. The pressure inside building now to unbearable intensity, the edge of orgasm too much to stand. "Oh... my... God!" she stammered.

The man now gripping the slats of the headboard as leverage to drive himself into her with as much force as he could. He wrapped his small ams around her, squeezing her to him, her tits pressed against his chest, making her feel what strength he had as he continued fucking her just as hard as he could. She wrapped her arms around her Master, wanting to feel him as much as possible.

“Cum for me now my pet and tell me that you now belong to me!” Hypno-natti grunted.

In a burst of mind-shattering pleasure, Casey felt every muscle in her body violently contract upon his words. Her nerves screamed in ecstasy. A long, wailing scream shaping the breath that rushed out of her lungs, forming finally into words..."

"OH GOD, I'M CUMMMMMIIIIIIING!!!!IIIIMMMM YOURRRRSSS!!!"

**********************************************

A week later…

“Hey guys! This is Casey. We are half way through February. I can almost smell the spring! Anyway, I want to tell you guys about something that I am soooo into right now. I’ve been totally improving myself through hypnosis. You guys might remember one of my earlier vlogs where I talked about a totally fun stage show I went to starring the Amazing Hypno-natti. Well, I’ve been working with him one on one on a ton of stuff and he is totally helping me with his incredible hypnosis skills. Dan too! So, swipe up to learn more about Hypno-natti. He has both sessions and videos available. And you can even find where you can try some of his unbelievable chamomile tea. Guys, it is sooo good! More vlogs coming this week, don’t forget to like and subscribe Luv you guys!!!” She concluded with a kiss of her fingers then the peace sign.

[lauwrite1225]

"What about a break ?" || Finan x OC

Summary: Saegyth said she would come late for dinner, so Finan decided to bring dinner to her office and maybe more...

A/N : It's still 8 am, and here I am, posting a smut. I am blaming @poguesmaybank once again. Like all the time I post modern AU smut about Finan and Saegyth. To be faire it's been waiting for a while in my docs, 2 months? Anyway, E N J O Y.

Take me to Another Lifetime Masterlist

Warning: Fluff and Smut

"What about a break?"

Saegyth twirled her pen between her fingers, concentrating on the paper she was reading. This was the biggest case she ever had since she was working on her own. Well in fact two other lawyers were working with her, but each of them had their own cases and rarely came to interfere in others work. Though, this time she would have gladly welcomed some help. She sighed leaning back in her chair and dropping her pen. 

She looked at the clock on the wall, it was already past 8pm. She grabbed her phone, intending to warn Finan she wouldn't be home for dinner, but she got a call from him first. She picked up and made her rolling chair turn. 

"Hi darling." She frowned when she heard the sound of a car through the phone. "You're not at home?"

"I'm not!" He replied and she could easily imagine that a grin was plastered on his face. "I'm in front of the office, can ya open me?" 

Saegyth stood up, confused about why he was here. Usually he would be at home at this hour, waiting for her for dinner. "What are you doing here?" She asked him, even though she was walking out of her office toward the front door and would have the answer soon enough.

"Ya sound pleased to see me." He replied, making her roll her eyes.

She hung up and unlocked the door to find herself face to face with her smirking fiancee, holding in one hand a paper bag. "I'm taking no more clients at this hour, sir." She said, leaning against the door's frame.

"Even if they brin' food?" Finan raised an eyebrow and shook the bag slightly.

She smiled and he immediately leaned to catch her lips. She pulled him in and locked the door behind him while he was looking around. It wasn't the first time Finan was coming, but it was rare enough for him to feel as he needed to recognize everything before staring back at her. 

"You said you'd finish late, so I thought you might be hungry." He explained as she stepped forward to take a look at what was in the paper bag. 

"Sushi! You read my mind, I was craving for some at lunch." She smiled and he chuckled. 

"Maybe." 

Saegyth shook her head before walking into her office, Finan close behind her. She piled up the folder spread on the desk to make space and let Finan rest the two boxes of sushis. 

"Ya're alone?" He questioned her, sitting on one of the two chairs usually for the clients. 

Saegyth nodded, taking a salmon roll, her favourites and for once Finan didn't forget to take a box of them. "Medwin left a hour ago." 

"So ya're alone." He grinned after leaning forward to dip a sushi in the soy sauce and bite in it.

She narrowed her eyes, he had something in mind, however she pretended not noticing it and kept talking of her day with him, until the two boxes were empty and her stomach was filled. She sunk in her chair again, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips. 

"Thank you for the dinner." She said, eyeing him as he crossed the room to drop the boxes in the trash. 

He was still wearing his work clothes, consisting of a shirt, a blue-gray one today, and a simple jean. It was casualer than her own look for work, but it was fitting him perfectly, his shirt highlighting the shape of his torso and his broad shoulders. 

"You should surprise me more often." She added, grabbing a folder and taking the document she was previously working on. "I like it." 

He turned around, smirking widely and she couldn't help but bite the tip of her pen. He walked back to her and made her chair turn so he could stoop towards her, his hands clasped around the armrests. His face was an inch from hers and she could smell his perfume, it had a woody smell that she always found heartwarming mixed with a subtle odor of iris, making it hard to not just bury her own face in his neck.

"I can still surprise ya." He tilted his head, one of his hands moving to her bare thigh under the skirt of her dress. His palm was cold, spreading goosebumps on her skin.

"I have work to do." She replied but it didn't discourage Finan, whose fingers were now playing with the elastic band of her underwear which didn't help the smirk dancing on her lips.

"What about a break?" 

In fact, he didn't wait for her answer, his lips crashing on hers in a first soft kiss, tasting sweet soy sauce. She answered quickly, her hand sliding in his hair, eager for more. She felt him grin against her mouth teasing her flesh before finally easing the ache that had started to grow between her legs. She pressed her head against the seatback, his finger drawing a first circle at the apex of her fold. Her own fingers curled in his hair while she started to unbutton his shirt, now craving to feel his warm skin. 

“I hope there isn’t any security cam.” He chuckled, his mouth tracing a hot path along her neck. 

An amused huffed passed between her lips before she bit her lower one when Finan shifted his hand, to tease her entrance and she instinctively rocked her hips. She moaned at the bliss he was tactfully building in her, working again on undoing his buttons. Then, she undid his belt, removing the shirt from his trousers to finally let her palm slid on his chest. He caught her lips once again and at how rough his kiss was, his tongue meeting hers yearningly, swallowing her whimpers, she guessed he was impatient to feel his own pleasure. 

“Make space on the desk.” She commanded him, pushing him away slightly. Finan grinned, his hand moving from between her legs. He grabbed the pile of folders and looked around for somewhere to put it. “Put it on the floor.” She said, standing up. 

“Alright!” Finan shrugged and he let the pile fall on the floor. 

She grabbed the edge of his shirt, sliding the sleeves down his arms, and then her hands wandered on his torso, her mouth drawing the line of his collarbone. She stepped back until her thighs bumped on the desk, and with a smirk playing on her lips she sat on it. She removed her shoes, then her underwear, Finan observing her with pure lust burning in his eyes. She took his hand and led him between her knees, welcoming his lips.

“I hope you’re not planning on making a habit of this.” She said between kisses along his jaw while working on pulling down his trousers and boxer just enough and he on the zip at the back of her dress so she could remove the sleeves. 

“As if ya’d mind?” He grinned, unclasping her bra and tossing it on the floor. 

She chuckled, lying down on the desk, Finan kissing a hot line from her stomach to shoulder, his mouth paying enough attention to her breast to make her sigh contentedly. She could feel him hard between her thighs and she couldn’t help but rub herself against him, provoking his deep growl that vibrated against her skin. He grabbed her hips roughly, adjusting her before finally guiding himself in her, his palm then travelling up her body as they both moaned. Saegyth’s legs encircled his hips and her hand gripped her own hair as he began to thrust, firmly gripping her waist. His movements were frank and quickly built an euphoric feeling in her mind, and she prayed for none of her coworkers to unexpectedly come back to their office for whatever reason as she found herself unable to not express her pleasure.

Finan leaned down to her, kissing and nipping the soft skin of her neck between his groans, his breath heavy as the sound reached her ears. She wrapped her arms around his neck, wanting to feel his body more against hers, the warmth of it as it grazed over hers regularly, making her lose her mind. Her hand slid in his thick hair, fingers pulling it lightly as she came apart, her thighs tightening around his hips and his name falling from her lips. In a last deep thrust, Finan came as well, his forehead pressed against her shoulder. 

He started to chuckle, still out of breath but utterly satisfied, his body heavier on Saegyth’s while her fingers were brushing the nape of his neck. She turned her head so she could nuzzle his messy hair, the smell of his perfume still keen. 

“Ya should work late more often.” He said with a smirk, pushing himself up to see her face. “And let me come here with dinner.”

“I doubt I would really work.” She laughed, but a tender kiss shut her up.

“T'would be just for a break.” He grinned, moving away to put back his boxer and trousers correctly. 

She shook her head in amusement and sat up. She pulled him toward her, her arms wrapping around his waist and her head resting against his chest, the sudden need to hug him overwhelming her. He immediately embraced her with his strong arms and she sighed appreciatively as he kissed the top of her head. 

“I think I’m going to continue this tomorrow. I really need a bed right now.” Finan growled and she looked up to find him smiling broadly. “To sleep.” She specified. 

“Of course, darlin’.” He replied, trying to act as innocent as he was able to. 

Once they were properly dressed again, they went back to their flat. Half true to her words, Saegyth let herself fall in bed as soon as they were home but didn't find the will to push Finan away when he started to kiss a path down between her legs. They fell asleep, body tangled together, the pleasant feeling of exhaustion running through their veins after sex, later than she had planned. But she definitely wasn't regretting it.

Tag: @poguesmaybank @tlksmut @finansarms @obipoelover @geekandbooknerd @maggiescarborough

[thomotomo]

Hello! May I request a gender neutral Podrick Payne x Reader where the reader and Podrick and the reader have a crush on each other, but they are to scared to say anything, so Brienne tries to set them up during training? I loved the Newt Scamander fic that you wrote for me. It was absolute perfection!

A/N: Thanks for requesting that! I hope you will like it! I’m sorry it took me so much time to write :( Also I’m not very familiar with Pordick but I’ve tried to match his personality with what wikia was saying. Don’t hesitate to tell me if you liked it :3 Also I’m glad you enjoyed Newt’s fic ^^

Words: 1.7K

Pairing: Podrick Payne x GN! Reader

TW: Slight sexual mentions

You were deeply and utterly in love with Podrick Payne. You met him after the Battle of the Bastards, you had been a soldier in Jon’s army, fighting to retrieve Winterfell from Ramsay’s hands. You had been exhausted and covered in blood when you sat next to him in front of a fire. You had looked at each other and you flashed him a polite smile while he did the same, but when he did, you couldn’t help but fell in love with him.

Even if his gentle smile was short lived, you definitely felt he was a gentle soul. You averted your eyes toward the fire and the young man kept looking at you, before he decided to start a discussion, asking you how you felt.

So now, here you were, training with him while being head over heels for him. You really enjoyed fighting with him, he’s a very good swordsman and training with him was forcing you to push back your limits. You found yourself on the ground and you huffed as Podrick walked to you, holding his hand out to help you get back on your feet.

“I win this time.”

“Yea, yea no need to rub it in my face.”

He laughed at you and, from the corner of your eyes, you could see Brienne observing you. You could feel her looking right into your soul, when you went to look at her she had an eyebrow. You went with Podrick to drink water, you discussed sword tactics while drinking, trying to explain to each other what techniques you were using and how you could ameliorate them.

You couldn’t help but stare at the sweat that was dribbling on his face, oddly enough, you found this very attractive. Probably the idea of him working so much was making you horny and you tried to avoid looking at his lips, not wanting to give to people around you the “signal” that you loved Podrick.

Brienne walked to you and told both of you to take a break. You didn’t really know what to do so you decided to look at other soldiers training, taking a seat on a barrel that was close from the training grounds. Podrick had left to talk with Tyrion and Brienne walked to you once again.

“You love him?”, she asked, looking as neutral as often, but her eyes were still harbouring a teasing light in them.

“W-What? What a-are you talking about?!”, you stammered, trying to keep it low so you won’t attract any unwanted attention.

“I see you looking at Podrick like a lovesick puppy. Are you going to do something about it?”, she asked you with her usual poker face.

You tried to deny her accusations, but your face suddenly felt quite hot and when you tried to talk you could only stutter. She smirked and in that short moment where she did she looked pretty scary in your opinion. Brienne left you on the spot, going to see another soldier and from the corner of your eyes Podrick was walking back to you, a small smile on his lips. You automatically felt the corner of your lips lift upwards at this sight.

“What did you discussed with Lord Tyrion?”, you asked him, unconsciously leaning toward him.

“Oh, he just kept me about some court politics and when we’ll move away.”

“Oh… You’re leaving soon?”, you asked, feeling disappointed to see him leave.

“Nope actually, we’re staying here until Lady Sansa says something to Lord Tyrion.”

“That’s great! I’m glad you’re staying here, we can still train together!”

He grinned at your and both of you went to take a meal, to gain back all your forces for the afternoon to come. You had to train a bit more before taking care of your swords polishing them and taking care of the blade, sharpening it with a rock that you were using specifically for it.

Once that was done you went to take a stroll through the town, looking a bit interested in the pastries that were sold on the market. You decided to buy one and shared it with Podrick, it was a lemon tart, you always had a soft spot for them, and you couldn’t help but share it with your friend. You spend the afternoon together walking a bit anywhere, then coming back for dinner and eating together.

After dinner both of you went to sleep, trying to fall asleep quickly so you would be ready for tomorrow’s training.

The next morning you woke up and left right away to take a bit of food before joining Brienne to the training ground. She decided to tell you and the other soldiers what you were going to do, you started to practice with someone else than Podrick, the fight was hard, and everyone was looking at you. Both you and this other guy, named Tarian, fought fiercely against each other and you really enjoyed it, you liked fighting hard with someone.

In the end Tarian ended up on his back while you were straddling his hips, your sword against his neck and his in your other hand, right next to his head. You stayed a few seconds like that, regaining your breath and then you stood up, helping your friend standing back on his feet.

You looked around and the other soldiers looked a bit impressed, but two faces seemed “out of context”, Brienne, who looked quite smug in your opinion, even though she had her stern face on, and Podrick who was frowning and looking quite angry.

You were kinda confused, why would he be angry it’s just training there’s literally nothing to be angry about. Unless… No, he couldn’t like you, even less be jealous about a fight.

He went to fight with someone else while you stayed discussing technique with Tarian, giving each other advices and laughing a little bit. You then switched training partners and that until the meal. You could see that Podrick looked quite frustrated, but you went to sit next to him anyway, asking about his training with the others.

From his point of view, Podrick knew he shouldn’t be jealous, after all it was only training, so it was quite normal if you ended up in some weird positions, it was fighting after all. But when he saw you discussing with that male, laughing with him, his rival, his mind whispered, he was feeling enraged. He knew he wasn’t dating you and he wasn’t entitled to be jealous of you talking to someone, but he couldn’t help it, to think that you’d go with someone else and that you won’t have time for him anymore.

At lunch you were seated next to him, trying to discuss and looking a bit worried about him. He tried not to be rude, but he couldn’t help but think of Tarian and how cosy he looked with you.

In the end both of you spend the meal in a tense atmosphere and you could feel someone’s stare on your back, you were pretty sure it was Brienne’s.

At the end of the meal you went back to the grounds and Brienne paired everyone, you ended up with Podrick once again. The tension could be cut with a knife as you started to fight with him, he was quite aggressive. You were following his movements, trying to match his speed and strength. Both of you spent ten minutes like this, exchanging blows, fighting will all your being. After a while, you were getting tired and he didn’t seemed to. He disarmed you and you ended up chest to chest, your sword on the back of your neck, the tip of his sword resting close from your neck’s pulse. You were breathing hard and so did he, both of your breaths mixing with each other. You were staring straight into his eyes, he suddenly stepped away, remembering where you were and gave you back your sword.

You looked a bit around, a little panicked by what everyone could have potentially observed. Luckily for you everyone else were engrossed in their training and only Brienne was looking over you with a smug grin, while trying to direct your eyes toward the ground you also noticed Tyrion Lannister looking at both of you with the same smug grin as Brienne, which made your face hot at knowing he probably saw the whole interaction.

You left the ground, pretexting needing to take a piss and avoided looking at anybody around. You knew Podrick would follow you, so you went to an empty stable and waited for a short moment when he appeared. He smiled lightly and took your face in both of his hands, kissing you immediately. You did that for a few moments before he started talking.

“Damn I wanted to do that for a while…3

“Me too… But were you jealous earlier?”, you asked, you couldn’t help but be curious about it.

“Y-Yes… I saw you discussing with this other guy and I couldn’t help but being insecure and all, plus the position you were on him earlier didn’t help.”, he explained nervously.

You smiled softly at him and grabbed him by the neck, kissing him hard and enjoying the moment you two were having. In such a town it was quite hard to get a quiet moment between two lovers, unless they had a house together, but as you were both soldiers it was impossible.

One of his hands ended up on your waist as you deepened the kiss. He groaned lowly which you reciprocated by a quiet moan. Suddenly a cough interrupted you and both of you quickly let go of each other looking at Brienne who was standing with Tyrion.

“You know you can’t skip training just because you finally realised each other’s feelings right?”

Both of you nodded as Tyrion laughed and took gulp of his wine.

“Also avoid fucking in a stable, it’s not very comfortable.”

Both of you looked a bit uncomfortable and you tried to make it looks like nothing happened. You went back on the training ground finally happy that the sexual tension between the two of you was a little bit calmed down (or was it really?)

[chibiredfox]

Ok what if the dorm leaders had a robin hood s/o who gave money away to children and often gave the rich looking dorm leaders dirty looks as she had to work hard most the time only stealing if necessary but as they got to know her they understood she wasnt like this for no reason she had like twelve kids to feed after finding them abandoned would anyone do anything to help?

Quite an interesting one, thank you Anonymous for asking :3

Imma try to portray these guys as best as possible, since the game is now out.

Riddle Roseheart

At first he would be prideful by the dirty looks his s/o gave to other dorm leaders, he thought it was his/her/their way of saying 'back off I'm his not yours'. Although after a while, he figured this wasn't the case. After toning down the rules he had made, he had gotten curious as to why his s/o was always going out during the night and coming back in the relatively early morning exhausted.

He had scolded her/him/them to come back earlier and get good rest for the next day to come. After disobeying his scoldings numerous times, he secretly followed his s/o to see what they could possibly be doing that is more important than getting a good night's rest.

Witnessing the stealing from the rich and giving to the poor his s/o had committed, he felt sorrowful, dumbfounded even. He scolded his beloved for doing a good deed and he felt bad for doing such. When he confronted his s/o the next morning he apologized, although his s/o was confused at first, he explained what he was doing the night prior. His s/o felt grateful when Riddle had given her/him/them time to do said good deeds before night time had begun.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona pays no mind to what his s/o does at night, he could care less. Although he eventually started to worry about his s/o's health due to them coming back in the dawn of morning with sweat falling off their body and tired eyes, as if they had gone to do a night long jog. He then asked Ruggie to follow them to see what they were up to, to which Ruggie reluctantly accepted.

The next morning, Ruggie reported back to Leona with little to no clue of what his s/o's whereabouts could've been that night. After a few more nights with little results, Leona had decided to see for himself what the difficulty may have been, and what the hell you could possibly be doing at night.

Madols being collected from high place's and given to the run down place's residents. He found it peculiar that you would do this every night continuously, unless other circumstances came in the way. He confronted you right then and there, startling you a bit, he questioned why you bother to even do this for other people. You responded with your reasons with courage and bravery that could rival a knight's chivalry. Leona, satisfied with your answer thrown you over his shoulder and took you back to Night Raven.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is amused by the dirty looks you gave to the luxurious dorm leaders, hell he might even give a chuckle if your face was giving the right look. Although he can't notice much due to you assisting the Leech twins in collecting contracts from fellow students during school, except during down time you're still out and about. His mind was struck with curiosity when you would attempt to be quiet when returning to the dorm at midnight.

One night while you were out, Azul asked the twins to research on his s/o's whereabouts and maybe bargain for the info if it came down to it. The twins complied and began the next morning. What came as a surprise to Azul is that the twins found nothing. Azul, now concerned, decides he will take a 'night walk' tonight, he entrusts the dorm to the twins and demands them not to make a mess of it while he is gone.

The night had come and Azul is ready for his curiosity to be breached. As slick and quiet he can be, he followed your every movement with hawk eyes. After witnessing what he wanted to see, he immediately headed back to the dorm. The next day, he beckoned you to come to his office to discuss important details.

With the Leech twins standing behind his office chair, Azul's gloved hands knitted together, and a mischevious glint to his eye, he lays out what happened last night. You, utterly terrified, knew you were being followed but you didn't think it'd be Azul doing the following. Azul laid you off and allowed you to leave wishing you a good rest of your nights.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is completely oblivious to his s/o's doings at midnight, he would be fast asleep by the time you head out to commit the same nightly routine all over again. He would worry as to why you look so tired during class but you reassured him saying you barely got any sleep the night before. This excuse didn't work for so long though, Jamil notified Kalim that his s/o has been going out every night, which Kalim broke out into a worry frenzy immediately learning this.

Kalim begged for Jamil to find out why his s/o goes out into the dangerous night, but then had a different idea and wanted to go find out for himself. Jamil then let Kalim know that he had already figured out why you would do such things. Kalim, both overjoyed and sad, thanked Jamil for his efforts and wanted to throw a party for it, but Jamil declined.

The next day during class, Kalim asked you why you do such antics, you replied as lowly as possible to try not to catch unwanted attention. After explanations happened, Kalim was crying and hugged you, saying how you are the best person in the world and how did he get so lucky.

Vil Schoenheit

Your nightly antics immediately caught his attention, you would rush your night care routine and this is a no-no in his book. Although before he can even confront to you about such carelessness for your beauty, you'd already be out and gone. This did not bode well for him as the same actions occured each night, he tries to confront yet he fails to do so. This gets on his nerves and he asked Rook, as politely as he could be in his angered state, to follow up on where his s/o could be in a rush to.

After a couple days, Rook came back to Vil with your whereabouts. Vil is astonished as to why you'd do such things, you could have ruined your face! Or your delicate skin! During lunch hour Vil came over to where you ate then asked if you and him could talk in private. You complied in curiosity as to why Vil would need to talk to you about, maybe a hidden blemish?

Vil started to tear up when he inquired about your nightly routine of stealing and giving, he begged for your answer. You wiped away his tears and replied that you did this because of how you were raised and felt that you should keep this going. After a little bit a tears shed, Vil asked you to be careful on your nights out, and you promise to keep it.

Idia Shroud

Much like Vil, he would immediately notice your continuous night outs, although he would usually brush it off thinking you were getting some take out for food. Not that he exactly cared about that, he doesn't really have to eat to stay alive. He started to worry when he saw you have constant tired eyes, and sometimes see you fall asleep in class.

He wanted to confront you to get better sleep but he gets too scared at the thought of talking face to face with someone, even with his s/o except not so much. He needed to do something about it, so he assessed his options of going about it. He could send Ortho to go confront you for him, but then again, he doesn't want Ortho to get damaged. On the other hand, he could send one of his drones to spy on you.

After seeing you head out, he sent one of his drones to follow you around. Looking back over the footage after he woke up the next morning was astonishing to him. You steal, then you give? He had Ortho fetch you and bring you to his room. In Idia's room you questioned your partner, after a moment Idia asked why you steal, then give. You sat down on his bed and gave your reasons, knowing you can't play the unknowing person, you knew he has drones. Idia sat there in his chair for a few minutes in silence. He then ruffled your hair, giving a small smile calling you a dork.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus already knew about your weird night routine. He wanders the night what would you expect? He may not know why, although he thinks it's kind of weird, like any other human action he would be curious of your reasons of justice-like thievery. Much like Leona, he would confront you right then and there, except you knew he was there due to his aura and towering height.

Unlike most people though, you were used to Malleus' aura and reassured the frightened children that'd he do no such harm to them. Afterwards, Malleus motioned for you to follow him back to Night Raven. During the walk back he inquired as to why you would do such a weird thing. You nonchalantly gave your reason, and the walk back was silent there after as Malleus ponders about your reason.

Back at the dorm he bids you a good night and wishes that you'd be quicker about this so you can get better sleep.

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

Phew this took me awhile but I'm happy with the results and I hope you are too Anonymous! It's been awhile since I watched Robin Hood so I tried to do my best with what I could remember. >_<

I hope you have a good day/afternoon/night! :3

[izaswritings]

Title: desert dawns

Fandom: RWBY

Synopsis:  Finally in Vacuo, the team gets a chance to breathe... but for Oz, things are a little more complicated.

(Or: in which Oz actually has a nice moment, for once, somehow; team JNR attempt a baking gift, and Oscar is Sir Sleeping Through This Fic. Home may be far away, but that doesn't make where you are now mean any less.)

AO3 Link is here.

.

For a moment, Oz does not know where he is.

Eyes open, a ceiling above his head, the sheets are too warm but when he pushes them back something feels wrong—that is not my hand—

Awareness comes back to him. No, he realizes. That is not his hand at all. Oscar’s hand. Their hand.

He is awake. Oscar is not.

Oz takes a moment, sitting up, reorienting himself. The sense of Oscar, there in the back of his mind, is still deep in sleep and doesn’t seem keen on waking up anytime soon. Which is reasonable, Oz admits, looking out the window. The desert sky is as dark as it is clear, and the moon shines down bold and bright. It’s either incredibly late or unspeakably early; if Oz tries to get Oscar up, the boy will no doubt be cross with him.

And yet—Oz is awake, now, and in such a way he is not sure he can sleep again. Neither does the idea of lying still waiting for Oscar to wake up appeal to him. Their lips press. He frowns down at the hands that are not his own. Oscar does not stir. The room the boy shares with team JNR is utterly silent, soundless but for Oz’s own soft breaths.

Oz hesitates, then carefully pushes away the covers. He won’t go far, he decides. He’ll just… make a drink. Hot chocolate, maybe. He’ll sit in the small living room area of this house and watch the sunrise. It’ll at least be something to do.

They have been in Vacuo for almost a week, and even now the pause in the action is unsettling to him. Though kind of Theodore to procure them a place to stay, the almost-peace of Vacuo is weirdly off-putting after Atlas. There’s a tension to it, a sort of hesitation that lingers on, not just in Oz but in all the others, too— waiting, always, for the other shoe to drop.

The anxiety, from Oz and Oscar both, is exhausting. Combined with the heat of the desert, well… they have not been sleeping well at all lately.

Though it isn’t exactly hot now, of course—  with the darkness comes a sharp drop, icy midnights. Oz has always loved this about the deserts: the swiftness with which it changes, the rapid shift in temperature and landscape. He has been reincarnated in Vacuo numerous times, and the memories remain, faint and fond. One incarnation had loved the desert sky so much he’d used to wake up at the break of dawn to watch the sunrise, each and every morning without fail.

Which—  may explain why Oz is up, actually. Old habits die hard, and Oz is nothing if not full of old habits.

He considers this, turning to sit with their feet dangling over the edge of the bed. The desert midnight chill is in full swing for the moment: frost edging the window, icy wind snapping in the air. Oz pulls on a pair of socks—the floor is bitterly cold, and while Oz doesn’t mind it, Oscar might rouse at the sensation—and then drapes Oscar’s jacket on their shoulders. There, warm. If the boy wakes up anyway, he can’t say Oz didn’t try.

He picks up the cane as he heads out the door, and flips it through their hands as he walks.

The house is deathly silent as Oz heads for the kitchen, the whole house under the spell of sleep. The hallway is not nearly as dark as he thought, though, and Oz pauses when he sees why. The kitchen. The door is closed, but light spills out underneath. He can hear the very faint clatter of dishes. Someone else is up?

He considers turning back around, but, well. He’s come all this way for hot chocolate, it seems silly to turn away now. And it’s not like he’s against having company.

Perhaps it’s Qrow. He hopes so, vaguely. They are still not—on the best terms, he and Qrow, but Oz would like to change that. He… misses the other. Sometimes. Which is an incredibly strange feeling, given Qrow is right here with all the rest of them, but well. There is no-one for Oz to blame for that but himself.

He opens the door, stepping into the light, and regrets this decision almost at once.

“Cute boy Oz!”

Their eyes squeeze tightly shut, and Oz inhales deeply. “Miss Valkyrie,” he says. He doesn’t protest the nickname. It is, he has realized with something in his soul that might be despair, apparently useless to try. Eyes open again, he surveys the rest of the kitchen. Jaune Arc and Lie Ren are there too, all awake. A team meeting, perhaps? But why in the dead of night? And— odd. They had not tried to rouse Oscar.

He realizes suddenly he had missed their absence in the room, and frowns. How…unobservant of him.

“What are you doing up at this hour?” he asks, mild, and raises a brow when all three exchange immediately guilty glances. Interesting.

“Um,” says Jaune Arc, and then nothing more.

Well then.

Oz nods, understanding, and moves on into the kitchen, heading for the counter. None of his business, then, and if they don’t want him involved he will respect that. He extends the cane and taps it absently against the ground as he searches. Now, where do they keep the cups? And the powder, too, that’s important. He rifles through the cupboard. Cocoa, cocoa, cocoa… aha.

Lie Ren clears his throat just as Oz is getting down a cup; Oz glances back at him. “Is Oscar…?”

“No. He is still sleeping.” Oz considers the three of them. “I assume this is something you wish to keep from him?” He cannot exactly hide the sudden distaste this idea gives him. Oscar is fond of these three, to such a degree that Oz is beginning to feel the same, if only by proxy—they are Oscar’s friends, his confidants, and at this point, perhaps even his team. This exclusion bothers Oz in a way he cannot deny feels strangely personal.

But already Jaune Arc is waving his hands, looking panicked. “No, no, not like that,” he says, waving his hands down at Oz. “It’s just—um—”

“None of your business,” Nora Valkyrie is insisting, hotly.

“It’s a surprise for him,” Lie Ren says, and both teammates turn on him.

“Ren!”

“You can’t just give it away!”

“He just said Oscar was asleep. It’s fine.” Lie Ren meets Oz’s eyes. “Oscar… misses home. Mistral. He hasn’t said as much to us directly, but…”

“...It’s obvious,” Nora Valkyrie continues reluctantly, when the other trails off. Oz cannot deny that statement. It is indeed very obvious. Oscar had done well in Haven; had managed in Atlas. Vacuo, however, is unlike anything the boy has ever known—he has not complained, but his dejection had been obvious—to Oz, and, apparently to them.

He considers them. “So?”

“He mentioned this thing his aunt used to make,” Jaune Arc says, finally, apparently resigned to spilling the secret in full. “A Mistralian breakfast dish. So we thought, we were going to try…” He gestures. Oz follows his gaze. Pots, pans, ingredients on the table behind them.

“I see,” Oz says, mind whirling. He goes to take a drink, but he has yet to finish the cocoa—powder puffs before Oscar’s face and Oz draws the cup away, frowning down at it. He turns to the sink. Hot water, hot water… “That is kind of you.”

Nora Valkyrie is laughing at him. Oz ignores it with the ease of long years of practice, and reaches for the milk. Fantastic. Hot chocolate at last.

When he turns back around, Jaune Arc is staring at him. “…Don’t you want coffee? Or, like… tea?”

Now, why would he want that? “That is Oscar’s preference,” Oz explains, and sips at the drink. Not nearly as good as his stash at Beacon was, but store-bought powder will have to do. At least it’s sweet.

Even Lie Ren is squinting at him now. “…is that all you drink?”

Oz takes another sip. A long sip. He draws it out. All three children are leaning toward him, enraptured, caught in the spell, looking desperate for an answer. Jaune Arc is about to fall off his seat.

Oz lowers his cup. “Yes.”

Jaune Arc cants to the side. Nora Valkyrie puts both hands on the table and leans toward him, looking delighted. “But!” she says. “You had a teapot.”

“That I did,” Oz agrees. He still misses that teapot.

“Was it just—that whole time—” Her voice squeaks. “Cocoa?”

Oz takes another long sip. Jaune Arc twitches. He hides his smile in the rim of his cup. “Yes.”

Nora Valkyrie puts her head in her arms and cackles. Lie Ren looks exasperated. Jaune Arc looks somewhere closer to despairing. Oz steps forward, still smiling faintly, and surveys their table of food. “Ignoring my drinking habits,” he says, lips twitching with honest amusement when Nora Valkyrie cackles louder, “how goes your cooking attempts?”

Nora Valkyrie stops laughing. All three look at the oven with something like dread.

Oz takes another sip. “I see,” he says, and does his best to keep his laughter entirely internal. He taps the Long Memory against the ground, a rythmic knocking, and considers the problem. Now then. How best to go about this?

Oz looks down at the table, noting the ingredients and calling upon new-old memory. He knows the dish they are talking about. It is Oscar’s favorite, and a Mistralian staple; Oscar’s aunt, however, often put her own twist to the recipe. Oz takes another long drink of cocoa and lowers his cup, decision made.

“Oscar’s aunt makes it with cinnamon,” he says, turning away from the table to head for one of the nearby couches. “Also,” he adds, taking a glance at what looks like to be failed cooking test number one, “it cooks best under gentle heat.”

“Gentle heat,” Lie Ren repeats, sounding disgusted that he had not realized sooner, and Jaune Arc says, “Wait, do we even have cinnamon?”

“I’ll look!” Nora Valkyrie calls, and rockets off to the cupboards.

Oz smiles, faintly, and settles back on the couch, leaning the Long Memory by their side. He finishes his cocoa as they cook, only speaking when he sees a mistake in the making—  less and less as the session drags on, and team JNR gets a hang of the dish. They are not bad at cooking— just chaotic— and soon he feels it’s safe to sit back and watch.

He doesn’t offer much more conversation beyond instruction, however. It is not that he and team JNR are on bad terms—  it is simply that they are on more neutral ones. Oscar adores them, and they appear to adore him in kind; if not for the echo of Pyrrha Nikos who still haunts their footsteps, they would by now likely have started introducing themselves as JNOR. Oz gives them another two months before they start doing it anyway.

So no, they are not on bad terms—but the lingering shadow of Oz’s lies and the lives it cost them still hangs heavy. He suspects they do not blame him for Pyrrha Nikos’ death, for all that he blames himself, but rather they blame him for everything else—the false hope, the lie of possibility, the fact that every chance he gave them made it sound like they could save the world—a chance Pyrrha Nikos took and died for, never mind that the foe she faced was not Salem.

Lie Ren is setting up the dish on the counter, Nora making towers out of leftover ingredients, and Jaune Arc has transitioned to doing the dishes. Even with the hole in their team, Oz thinks, they are remarkably in-tune with one another. He is… glad, to see it. In the face of adversity, they have faltered and stumbled and then grown stronger together.

He may have never given them the same attention he gave team RWBY, but he always thought these three were capable of remarkable things. It is why he let Jaune Arc stay in Beacon, despite his painfully faked transcripts. It is a relief to know, at least on that… Oz wasn’t wrong to give them a chance.

The cooking drags on, and soon, so does sunrise. By the time the sun begins to poke out over the horizon, the final attempt is in the oven to bake, and Nora Valkyrie has bounced over to bother him once again.

She throws herself to sit at the couch armrest, and kicks her feet in the air. Her gaze is thoughtful, considering and suspicious in equal measure, and they both ignore the way her teammates have collapsed in exhaustion on the kitchen table behind her. “You,” she declares at last, “were being very helpful.”

“I am a teacher,” he reminds her.

“Was a teacher.”

“I have a degree,” Oz informs her, dryly. “Multiple, even. Am a teacher.”

She clicks her tongue. “Ugh, what-ever.” She leans back, eyes rolling, and kicks out her feet into the air. Oz waits, watching her, letting her gather her thoughts. At last she seems to find the words. “...Thanks for helping us not fuck up the dish, I guess. Jaune was super worried about it.” She glances back at the table, a momentary flash of worry on her face. “It—it is Oscar’s favorite, right?”

“Oh, no. He hates it.” Her head snaps around. Oz laughs quietly. “I apologize. That was in poor taste. Yes, Miss Valkyrie, it is his favorite. I think… he will like this very much.”

She scowls at him, then blinks, her eyes catching on something—  the Long Memory, resting beside him on the couch. She gives the cane a puzzled look. “You brought your cane with you?”

He looks down; the cane, as it should be, is by their side. He puts a hand on the knob and shrugs. “Yes.”

“You just bring that thing everywhere, huh?”

“It is… dear to me.” He considers her, wondering how to spin this— but her expression is open and curious, her questions meant honestly, not mockingly. For all that Oscar is not awake, Oz can almost feel the echo of his exasperation. He hesitates. “Ah… you could say, Miss Valkyrie, that much like what the dish you are making means to Oscar… this cane, too, reminds me of home.”

Nora Valkyrie stops moving at once, her legs stilling mid-air. Behind them, Lie Ren and Jaune Arc have gone silent, pretending badly not to eavesdrop, and Oz can see them exchanging glances. Nora Valkyrie does not look back, however; instead she looks down at him, considering, her expression strangely solemn. “…Do you miss it, too?”

The question catches him off-guard, and for a moment Oz falters. The memories rise up in flashes, echoes of a different time, different places. A warm house and warmer hearth fire, the table they set for four. The two children, never willing to wait and never wanting to sit still—blue eyes, and a laughing face, a hand in his.

“Yes,” Oz says, after a long moment. The words are stilted. He suddenly feels very old, tired all the way to his bones. He puts down the empty cup.

Nora Valkyrie snatches it up. Oz blinks.

“One sec,” she says to Oz’s blank stare, and flies off to the kitchen. Oz watches, bemused, as team JNR confers around the cup and then repeats his actions from before, making a new batch of cocoa, that Nora then takes back and brings to Oz. She holds it out for him. Oz takes the cup warily.

“Thanks for helping us, old man Oz,” Nora says, and grins. “Give us a warning before Oscar wakes, okay?”

“…Of course,” Oz says, thrown by the new nickname, and watches her bounce back to her team. She chatters, and they laugh, the moment forgotten. He looks down at his cup and takes a sip of the cocoa. It’s not his usual mix—  there’s a bit of spice to it. Cinnamon and chili powder?

…It’s good.

He stares down at it, contemplative, and hesitantly takes another sip. He looks back up at the team. They are laughing, distracted, debating on whether the dish is done or not. All three are smiling.

Oz considers them for a long moment, and then he turns away. This time, he’s smiling too.

Oscar wakes up mid-way through sunrise. When he senses the boy rousing, Oz takes the Long Memory in hand and raps the cane against the ground to alarm the team. They rush to hide the dish, freshly-baked; Oz turns their head to the window, and keeps their eyes on the desert sun.

What…?

“I apologize,” Oz says. In the reflection of the glass, Oscar’s eyes burn gold. “I woke before you. I wanted to see the sunrise.”

Oh. He gets the sense Oscar would yawn if he could. That’s fine… There’s a momentary pause, considering. Then: Why do I taste chocolate?

“It is a perfectly fine drink,” Oz says, in mild protest. Honestly, he has no idea what the boy has against it.

Sure, but in the morning? It’s an evening drink. Coffee is better.

Oz shakes his head, smiling faintly, and fades away to the background rather than rehash the old argument. Oscar’s head dips forward; the boy just barely catches himself from knocking them out against the glass. “Ow.”

Careful.

“Mm-hm.” He rubs his forehead. He goes to turn around—

“SURPRISE!”

—and screams at Nora abruptly popping up and shouting in his face, toppling right off the couch.

…Ah.

“What!?”

“Nora!”

“Ah, we just woke the whole house, didn’t we…”

The house is warm and bright, the desert outside turning a brilliant gold underneath the dawning sun. It is not home— it is nothing more than a temporary stop— but as Oscar splutters and Nora grins and the rest of team JNR clamor up behind her, there is a warmth that lingers on. They help Oscar to his feet and fumble to present their gift; they beam bright at his wordless joy.

The boy is delighted, and his team is pleased— team RWBY and Qrow and the others wander in with calls of confusion and delight and annoyance at the noise— and the smell of cinnamon lingers heavy in the air.

And it is not home, maybe, but it is something half-way there, and so Oz laughs, quiet and sincere, and sits back to watch the show.

[spellbound-banshee]

Reaching - Peter Parker

hey y’all! before i put the summary or anything i just want to let you guys know that there is a major trigger warning for this fanfiction. it was super hard for me to write, but i think this could be comforting to a lot of people who are struggling especially at a time like this. it’s a self-harm trigger warning, so please do not read this fanfiction if this is going to upset or trigger you. i hope all of you are staying safe during this quarantine and my inbox is always open if you need to talk about anything at all. i love you all, take care of yourselves <3

Request: hi hi! could you possibly write something where reader self-harms and peter finds out? like she fell asleep on his couch n her sleeve rolled up, n he comforts her n promises not to leave her? if this makes you uncomfy and it’s not healthy for you to write i totally understand!! ik this is a pretty heavy subject 😅 i’ve just been not doing good lately n i need petey boy to comfort me n hold me :)) thank u so much love xx

of course i can, and although it’s very hard for me to write i think i’ll be okay. if you need to talk, never hesitate to message me.

Summary: explained above!

Warnings: fluff, trigger warning, mentions of self-harm, descriptions of cuts and trauma, very sad, angst

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

“Hey baby, sorry I’m-” Peter walked into his apartment, immediately taking his mask off as he swung in through the window. He’d been on a nightly patrol and completely forgot about your coming over, but he texted you - and you being the amazing partner you were, understood completely. When it got later and later you started to get worried, but tried to keep yourself occupied with whatever was on the TV. Now, you were sleeping soundly on his couch with the occasional flash of the TV illuminating your face.

He smiled, pressing the spider button in the middle of his suit, causing it to fall to the floor. He picked it up and walked back into his bedroom, picking up a t-shirt to throw over his head, shaking his hair out of it’s pressed-down form. Wanting to let you sleep, he washed his face in the bathroom and washed some of the dirt and grime off his body.

You stirred when he came back into the room, but didn’t wake up, being too tired to even sense him there. He noticed you were wearing one of his sweatshirts, always wondering why as it was summer, and clearly you were hot inside and outside. Nevertheless, he respected your choices when you said you didn’t want to talk about it.

He reached over the couch to find one of the blankets hanging on the back, making a quick move to drape it over you. It was a light blanket, and he figured it would be nice to have something to cuddle with if you were sleeping alone. He noticed one of your hands exposed and in a strange position, and he always liked to come home and kiss your hand whenever you came over. Smiling, he reached for your hand and brung it up to his lips, and the loose sweatshirt on your body caused the sleeve to fall down. He began to chuckle, until he turned your wrist around to start kissing the other side.

It wasn’t super clear in the light, but as his lips touched your skin, he noticed something bumpy and uneven about the texturing of the anatomy, so he pulled back to take a closer look. He gasped when he saw them, lines running down the skin of your wrist, some spread out and some closer together. He wasn’t sure how to react, his tears filled with eyes at the overwhelming amount of emotion plaguing his mind. The anger, the confusion, the sadness, it all meshed together in one big ball.

His gasp startled you awake, and once you got your bearings you squealed and pulled your wrist back, eager to cover what damage had already been done. But he saw them, and he definitely knew what was happening, and by the look on his face, he wasn’t sure how to react. He looked broken, like he was spinning out of control, but overall he just looked sad. Sad that you didn’t feel safe enough to talk to him, sad that he couldn’t see what was going on earlier rather than letting the signs slip right past him. He began to blame himself.

“Peter I-” You started, beginning to draw back on the couch, no longer feeling safe, feeling trapped and pressured even though he hadn’t said anything. “I don’t...” You didn’t know what the hell to say, you were going to tell him, you swore to yourself, but it never felt like the right time. And you definitely didn’t want him to find out like this. 

Peter slowly turned his gaze towards you, tears glossing over his honey-brown eyes, his bottom lip quivering. He felt helpless, he knew nothing in the world would be enough. Or so he thought.

“(Y/n)...” His voice cracked, tears making their way through, “why didn’t you tell me?” That probably wasn’t the best place to start from, but his mind was practically bursting with this new information, struggling on how to process. 

You paused, physically and mentally restrained from answering for a few moments. “I didn’t... I didn’t know how.” Your voice was also cracking, unsure of how to respond to such a question and how you were going to respond to all the questions he probably had to ask. He nodded his head like he understood, but his eyes were still wide and his tears began to flow now.

“(Y/n).” He reached for your hands put you pulled them back, and just that simple movement caused his little heart to break into a thousand bits. “I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me.” He looked down at his hands, which flopped helplessly in his lap. “I’m sorry I didn’t see the signs, I’m sorry I didn’t see enough to understand what was going on.” He shook his head, running his hand through his hair and feeling lost, utterly lost. “I should’ve been there, I should’ve seen and I’m sorry I didn’t, I’m so sorry.”

“Peter, it’s not your fault.” You decided to get off the couch and kneel with him to be at his level, and now he felt bad for making this about him.

His hesitant hands reached out for you, and though you pulled them back a bit at first, you reluctantly obliged. Carefully, he ran his fingers up the sleeve of your shirt and out of habit, when he pulled your sweatshirt up you flinched and pulled back, “it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.” He reassured, even though you didn’t need to hear that to understand - he would never hurt you. He just wanted to find a way to make you feel better, he know he couldn’t heal you or take away your pain, he just wanted to be there.

He saw the lot of them. Some were whitened with age, others seemed new... fresher. His brain short circuited. He couldn’t understand how he could be so blind to the signs if there were any at all, he couldn’t see how someone that seemed so happy could be so... broken. Peter looked up at you, and you were quietly sobbing, unable to maintain eye contact with him, and he could tell. He pulled your sleeve back down, giving the arm a kiss over the sweatshirt and running his thumb over the marks as if to sooth them away.

“Hey, don’t be scared.” He attempted to keep his voice soft and steady, but inside he was breaking apart. “I’m not going to leave, I’m right here.” He let go of your arm, placing it gently back on the couch and shuffled over to your face - he placed his hands on your cheeks and ushered you to look at him. Your cheeks were sticky and you couldn’t stop the tears from forming in your eyes once you saw his. “I want to help you... but I... I don’t know how.” You could hear it in his voice, he was helpless, unprepared, and most of all scared - he could’ve lost you and he wouldn’t have seen it coming.

“Listen, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t know what I would do if I ever lost you.” He took your hands in his, “please, I know it’s hard. But I’m here. If you need me, please just... talk to me. It’s not easy, but... I’m an asset. I can’t stand seeing you hurt especially when you do it to yourself. I love you, (Y/n). With all of my heart.” His voice broke, and he tightened his lips in a thin line, trying to hold it all together. 

“I don’t care where you are, I don’t care what time it is, I don’t care what I’m doing, I’ll come to you. Day or night, rain or shine, I’ll be there. I know I can’t make you promise me you won’t do it again, it takes time to recover and... and you’re going to have relapses.” You sobbed, and once again he tried to keep everything inside, continuing to hold your face softly. “But I want to be there, I’m in this for the long haul, honey. I’ll never leave you, no matter what. I can promise you that.”

You didn’t know what to say, how to thank him, you were so overwhelmed with confirmation and happiness that you were completely tongue-tied. “That was a lot of information I just dumped I’m um,” he rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a chuckle akin to a sob, “I’m sorry.” You shook your head, bringing your hands up to his face as well and wiping away the tears that had fallen during his speech. You ran your fingers through his hair gently, and just smiled down at him, shaking your head.

“Thank you.” Was all you could say, and he could live with that for now. In the morning, he would do nothing but research to figure out ways to help you, he would stay by your side for as long as you needed him, and he would check in - something he forgot to do.

“What can I do for now?” He leaned into your touch, placing one of his hands over yours and rubbing it with his thumb. “Please, just... tell me what you need. Anything I just...” He was overwhelmed, so you just shushed him - both of you were exhausted, emotionally and physically.

“Can you just hold me for now?”

“Of course.” He nodded, wiping the rest of his tears off his face with his flannel sleeve and opening himself up to the blanket. He got behind you on the couch and pulled you into his arms, pressing your back against his chest and placing his head on your shoulder. Peter kissed the fabric of your sweatshirt gently, his hands still trembling and his heart still pounding.

“I love you, Peter. I can’t thank you enough. You’re too kind to me.” You articulated with a yawn, and he smiled down at your tired figure.

“Never.” He whispered, kissing behind your ear and nuzzling against you. “You don’t have to thank me... I love you.” You would start crying again if you had it in you, but instead you just tugged him closer to you, kissing one of the broken knuckles on his hand.

“And I love you.” You mumbled a somewhat coherent response back, already feeling yourself drift off into a slumber. Peter’s eyes were heavy from the tears, and his body felt weighted as he lied with you, unable to fall asleep with you on his mind but body begging for sleep. As he heard your soft snores, he slipped his hand in between yours and kissed your temple.

And he stayed awake to watch over you. Not because he didn’t trust you, or to watch you in a creepy way, just to make sure you wouldn’t leave and to make sure you were always comfortable, dreaming. And in the morning, the sleepless Peter Parker drifted out of your arms and into the kitchen. He prayed nothing major would happen in Queens, and prayed everything would work itself out in your favor.

Because you deserved the world.

-

sorry it took so long i had to take breaks :)

[soheila-1996]

My story- Part six

My little disclaimer:

I have epilepsy. This details my seizures, I can’t speak for everyone, everyone’s seizures/ experiences are different. This is graphic. Seizures are messy. They aren’t fun and it felt wrong to make it out to be cute when they really aren’t.   Pretty much all the things that happen in the plot have happened to me. Well, I’m not married to a king or live in a palace so…there’s that but everything else is accurate.  There may be some jokes about it here because I do joke about it sometimes. It makes me more comfortable and I find it helps relax everyone around me. I’m also writing about it because there really aren’t that many fics written about it and I think it’s important to shine light on it.

Any feedback is really appreciated! :)

Tagging people who shared the last  part. You don’t have to read it! I just thought you might want to see what happens: @kacie-0156, @texaskitten30, @cordonianroyalty, @kingliam2019, @bebepac, @kingliam-rys, @cordonia-gothqueen, @kimmiedoo5, @bbrandy2002, @loveellamae  @bobasheebaby @losingbraincellseveryday  @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @jared2612 @flutistbyday2020 @debramcg1106 @anotherbeingsworld @leaharhys @cordoniaqueensworld 

This is also part of wacky drabbles hosted by @emceesynonymroll The prompt this week is: #41: Can you move?

Paring: Liam and Riley

Warnings: Mention Miscarriage, Suicidal thoughts, blood. 

Word count: 3541 

Catch up here

(Liam’s Pov)

The members of the council had been doing what they could to keep the country afloat so I could be with Riley and give her my full, undivided attention. 

The miscarrige had just broken her and there’s nothing I can do about it. It was my baby too, I’m devastated too but I’m too focussed on trying to be here for my wife that I haven’t let myself grieve over my loss. 

Riley is even more closed off now. She won’t leave the apartment or the bedroom for that matter with the exception of going to the bathroom or getting a drink now and again. She isn’t eating, barely drinking anything and now she has started to refuse to take her medication and so her seizures have multiplied. Which, too meant, I never left the apartment either. 

Our friends stopped by now and again but Riley would refuse to talk to them. Their visits were few and far inbetween since they had taken on my responsibilities of running my country. 

I just don’t know what to do anymore. 

Seeing the person I love more than anything like this is breaking my heart. Riley didn’t want anyone to know and so I haven’t told anyone. There’s no one I can talk to about it because Riley wants to pretend that it never happened. I can’t begin to imagine how she feels but I know ignoring it and pretending it didn't happen isn't going to help in the long term. 

It’s hard seeing anyone you love struggle with anything but...this is like a sadistic form of torture for me. Or a nightmare that I just can’t escape.

I just wish that I could do something to make this better. 

(Riley’s POV) 

It’s my fault. 

It’s all my fault.

 Liam has tried to tell me otherwise but it doesn't work. Of course it was my fault. There’s no one else to blame. No one else I can blame because it was solely my responsibility to look after our baby and I failed to do that. I’ve been so careful. I’ve done everything I was supposed to do and I still couldn't prevent this. 

I’ve hurt Liam too. He’s devastated even though he won't admit it. 

The last few days have been pure torture. How do I grieve over someone that I never got to meet or hold?

I don’t feel like I deserve to feel sad. My husband has told me so many times that my actions didn’t cause this but we’ll never truly know why this happened. At least last time  I knew it was me that caused it but this time we don’t…

I don’t know how to explain to Liam how I’m feeling. I feel almost...Numb. I don’t care anymore. The baby had been the one thing that was stopping me from doing something stupid and now I don’t have it. 

Anxiety.

 Panic. 

Sadness. 

Guilt. 

All of these emotions are swirling around in my head. Sometimes all these thoughts and feelings are so loud that I can’t hear or focus on anything else but them.  It’s true that no one else can kick you harder than yourself.

All of it leaves me feeling utterly exhausted. I should be helping Liam with running our country, being a good wife, instead I’m useless because I can’t just get it all together. I feel like a failure.

I opened my eyes and sat up in my bed. I can hear birds tweeting outside so I realise it must be reasonably early in the morning stil.

Last night was awful. I had a seizure earlier in the night not long after I had gone to bed, I had fallen asleep for a little while after but woke up and couldn’t seem to fall back asleep after that. 

Liam isn’t beside me. I’m not surprised by that. Our relationship is starting to fall apart, it’s like it’s fraying at the edges. I don’t really know how else to explain it.  I just want everything to go back to how it was. 

I decide to lie here for a little while longer. I’m tired and what’s the point of getting up anyway? 

I’m just about to drift off when I sense someone in front of me and hear a glass be placed down on my bedside table. I opened my eyes, I saw  a glass on the side and a couple of pills beside it. 

I rolled my eyes and turned to lay on my back. When is he going to get the message? 

“Please take them,” I heard Liam’s voice say. I felt the bed dip as he took  a seat beside me. “Love?” 

“Just leave me alone,” I demanded in a tired voice. 

“Please.” I don't respond and he sighs. “You’ll keep having seizures. I know how much they scare you so-” 

“I’m not taking them,” I insisted. 

“It's dangerous to just stop taking your medication,” he reminds me. I already know that, I feel like crap. 

I roll back onto my side and side up with the intention of  getting out of the bed but he’s in the way. “Can you move?” I asked, my voice monotone. Liam raised a brow.

“Where are you going?” 

“I need to shower. Is that okay with you?” I asked, harshly. An unusual bite in my tone. He doesn't say anything as he gets up. I don’t say anything and head out of the bedroom toward the bathroom.

(Liam’s POV)   

It’s a little while later after Riley woke up, I’m sitting in the study after just finishing  a call. I was only down the hall from the bathroom where Riley currently is. My ears perked up  when I heard a bang. I tried to rationalise it. Maybe she just dropped something but that hope is promptly dashed away when it continues. 

I stand up from the desk and head toward the bathroom. I soon arrive at the door, I try to turn the handle but it’s locked. I knocked on the door. 

“Riley,” I called. I got no answer and my heart sank.

Not again. 

I tried to open the door one more time before stepping back slightly and bringing my leg up. I brought it down against the door as hard as I could. The wood splintered around the frame and the door swung open. 

The shower is still running but I can't see Riley in there. I move closer and my wife’s contorting body on the floor is now visible through the glass panels. I move quickly and throw open the door. 

There isn't enough room for me to kneel down beside Riley in the shower so I gently and very quickly move her out to lay on the tiles. I  know moving her isn’t the most ideal thing to do but there's no way I could get to her. 

I turned her over to her side and retrieved two towels off the back of her door to put one under her head and the other over her naked form. I looked down at my watch as the seizure continued. 

A little bit of blood tinged spit started to leak from the corner of her mouth and down onto the bathroom tiles below her. I used the corner of the towel that was under her head to wipe it away. 

I hate this. 

It was about to hit the three minute mark and she had just started to slow down. It only took a few more seconds for her seizure to come to a halt and her body to relax. 3:30 seconds- I made a mental note of it. 

Once I was sure she was alright I stood and switched the sower off before sitting back down beside her.

(Riley’s POV) 

Fear sat deep in my stomach as my eyes fluttered open. 

Where am I? 

Why am I all wet? 

My eyes drifted down to the floor. There’s a hand sitting just by my face, which I soon discover is my own when I wiggled my fingers. 

Why am I on the ground? 

I somehow found the coordination needed to place my palm flat on the floor, I wanted to sit myself up, I tried to push myself up but it’s no use. I’m too weak to do it. 

I’m wet and cold- that’s all i really know right now. 

I can see another hand sitting in front of  my face which is soon discovered is also mine. Beyond my hand  there I see some shoes that most certainly do not belong to me. 

It’s a person. Right in front of me.

I try to scoot away but I don’t get far. 

A wall of disrupted, muffled sound hit my ears as I continued to shuffle away from the stranger beside me. 

“Riley, you’re okay,” someone told me quietly. Sound is a whole new thing to me and their words don't make sense. 

I start to panic and my fight or flight reflex kicks in. I rustle on the floor and try to get away from the figure in front of  me, but the most I can manage to do is withdraw.I just don't have the coordination to get away. 

“It’s okay, Love.” I recognise that voice, I realise but nothing truly makes sense to me. “You had a seizure but you’re okay now. I’m here.”  

The figure comes closer to me and I try to hit it away, punching and whimpering.

“Riley, it’s alright,” He called out to me but I still continue to try and fight. 

I need to get away. 

The figure blocks my weak hands as I throw them through the air.  “Shhh, it’s okay.”

Sound becomes clear to me now and all I could hear properly is my heart pounding in my chest. I listen carefully, I hear water dripping? 

Where am I? 

The floor is cold beneath me. It almost feels like bathroom tiles. I don’t understand what’s going on. 

Why am I wet? 

Something is laying on top of me. It feels almost like a towel....What is going on? 

The more I think about my weird surroundings the more panicked I become the more I try to wiggle away but i don’t have full control over my body yet, my limbs feel heavy. The hands encircling my wrists as my arms are still in the air tighten slightly. 

I’m tired. 

“Riley, It’s okay.” That voice. I know that voice...

Liam. 

I stop moving. I’m safe.  

“It’s Liam, Love,” Liam tells me. Confirming what I already thought. “You’re okay.”

I looked at him, taking in his features and trying to put it all together. My vision is starting to become clearer. 

“Li?” I questioned quietly. 

“It’s me,” He reassured me, “You’re safe.”

I respond by relaxing and bringing my arms back down beside me. Liam gives me a small smile. 

“W-what happened?” I ask. I really don’t remember anything. I think I was in the shower but i don't even remember coming  into the bathroom. 

“You had a little seizure.  I know you’re confused,” He explained  to me sweetly, “but you’re alright.” 

 “Why am I wet?” I ask in a tired voice. 

“You were in the shower.” 

I nodded. I now have better control over my body and sit myself up. I wince slightly at the pain in my left arm. Liam looks down at me and cocked his head. “Are you alright?” 

I nodded as I turned my head and twisted my arm so I could look at the back of it where I’ve already figured out the pain is coming from. There’s a big bruise starting to form like I had suspected. 

“I’m tired,” I mumbled, letting out a yawn and forgetting about my arm. Liam got up to his feet and hooked one arm under my legs and the other around my back. I want to argue with him but I’m too tired too. 

He gently places me down on our bed and helps me change into a clean pair of pjs. It doesn't take me very long after I’ve changed to drift off to sleep. 

It was the next morning, i woke up my muscles ache and my mouth sore. 

When I was a teenager and my epilepsy wasn’t very well controlled I used to be elated when I woke up in the morning because I was so scared I'd have a seizure in the night and not wake up but now...I just feel disappointed? I don’t really care If I wake up anymore . 

I threw the blankets off me to go in search of my husband. I padded down the long hallway toward my kitchen. 

I’m confused as I make my way down the hall as I hear two other voices besides Liam’s. They’re voices I recognise but...why are they here? 

I pushed open the door and saw Liam and my parents sitting at the table. They all turned to look at me. 

“Love-” Liam started but I cut him off. 

“You called my parents on me?” I asked in complete disbelief. “I’m not a child, Liam.” 

“I never said you were,” he said, getting to his feet along with my mom and dad. “ I’m sorry, I’m just worried about you and I don’t know what to do,” he explained. 

“So you decided to call my mom and dad to what? To come and scold me like a child?” I asked, my voice raising. 

Liam shook his head, “No. I-I don’t know what to do.” 

“You did the right thing, Liam.” My mother said as she put a comforting hand on my husband’s shoulder and turned to me. “Sweetheart, we’re all just worried about you.” 

“I’m fine,” I insisted with a shrug. 

“Ri-” Liam started to argue but my mother interrupted. 

“You’re not fine, Riley. We can all see that.” I opened my mouth but she continued speaking before I had the chance to. “You look-” 

“I’m fine,” I rebutted before she could continue. I know how I look, I don’t need to be told. 

“Why aren’t you taking your medication?” She asked me . 

“Because I don’t want to,” I replied, childishly . There are so many reasons. 

My mother sighed, “What is this going to achieve, Riley? We all love you and not one of us wants to see you like this.”  

“Why?” I asked, my voice monotone. 

My dad stepped forward, “If we didn’t care then your mother and I wouldn’t have gotten on the first available flight here, Liam wouldn't have called us.” 

“Why are you doing this to yourself, Ri?” Mom asked me. I looked down at my feet, I don’t really know how to explain this. “Is this because of the miscarriage?” she asked me gently. 

I looked to Liam with a look of betrayal on my face. “You told them?” 

She stepped forward so she was now standing directly in front of me. “Talk to me. No one can help you if you don’t tell us what's bothering you.” I tore my gaze away from hers in favour of looking down at the carpet instead. “I know what losing a baby feels like.” That gained my attention. I looked back up at her, I didn’t know anything about this. “It was before I got pregnant with Josh. I know how easy it is to blame yourself but It wasnt your fault.” 

“But-” 

“But nothing,” she said, placing her hands on my shoulders. “Some things are out of your control. I used to blame myself for your epilepsy. I believed that I had done something wrong to hurt you and that’s why it happened but sometimes there is no rhyme or reason for why things happen, they just do. Riley, this can’t happen again sweetheart, taking your medication isn't a choice, it’s a necessity. You have to take them.” 

“Please listen to your mom, Ri,” my dad spoke up, “Last time this happened, it could’ve ended very differently, you know that. Come on,  you know how  dangerous It can be not to take your medication.”

They looked to me both with a pleading expression. I swallowed thickly as I turned to look at Liam. “Please, Love.” 

On one hand I know they’re right. I know the risks, I know that my seizures will continue and probably get worse and I don’t want that, I don’t want to hurt my family in the process. On the other hand, I don’t care anymore. It’s all just too difficult and draining so i no longer have the energy to care. I feel numb. 

“I’m tired. I’m gonna go back to bed,” I mumbled and without another word head down the hall to my bedroom.

(Liam’s POV) 

We watch Riley walk away and neither of us make an effort to stop her. She’s made it clear that she doesn't want to talk and there’s little to no point in forcing her to. 

I turned back to look at my in-laws as Riley pushed our bedroom door closed.  “This has happened before?” I asked, dumfounded. I know that Riley has been through other hard times but...I never knew she had been this low before. 

Karol nodded. “Yes. When Riley was seventeen she had a boyfriend, Ben. “ I nodded. I knew vague details about that relationship. “She was at his house and had a seizure. He had recorded it and sent it to all of his friends- they relentlessly bullied her. Riley stopped taking her medication- we didn't know to begin with. We trusted her to take it. She had seizures everyday, sometimes more than once but we didn’t know why. Her epilepsy wasnt very well controlled at that time  but it had  never been like that, not since she was very, very young when she was first diagnosed. That Friday, five days after she had last taken her medication she had another seizure and It didn't stop. We were lucky that we were able to get her to the hospital so they could give her some medication to stop the seizure If we hadn’t...she could have died, Liam.” 

If I'm being completely honest, I don’t know how to feel. About any of it actually. 

“How did you get her to start taking them again.” 

“I don’t think she quite realised how important taking her meds were. The whole thing was terrifying for everyone involved,” Micheal explained, “The experience scared her and after that she always made sure to take them.” 

I can’t-” Karol’s sentence was interrupted by a loud  thump coming from our bedroom down the hall.  “What was that?” Karol asked, no one in particular. 

The three of us stayed silent as more thumping sounded from the room. 

“I’ll go and check on her,” I announced as I stood and walked down the hall. The closer I got to the door, the louder the thumping got. 

I have a bad feeling. 

Sadly, I was proved right when I pushed the door open and Riley was in the middle of the floor, her limbs flailing and her back continuing to relax and arch off the ground . 

I didn’t waste any time getting down onto my knees beside her and immediately turned her over onto her side. 

“Okay, it’s alright,” I whispered as I kept a hand on her hip to keep her in the right position as my other ran through her hair . 

I don’t know why but i still have a bad feeling. 

I always panic when this happens. It almost always brings  me to tears because It kills me to see this happen to my extraordinary wife and there’s nothing I can do to stop it but...it feels different, I can’t put my finger on why though.

Her phone was laying just on the bed so I quickly moved to pick it up to start the timer as soon as possible.

Just then, Karol popped her head in. “Is everything-” Her eyes widened when she caught sight of her daughter convulsing on our bedroom floor . 

Karol dropped down onto her knees opposite me and moved a strand of riley’s brunette hair out of her face. 

“Oh sweetheart,” She muttered. She looked up to me as Riley’s violent movement’s continued. “Have you started a-” 

“Yes, I've started a timer.” She nodded. Riley started gagging, Karol and I immediately reacted. I gently pushed her shoulder forward to ensure she was leaned forward enough that it would all come out of her mouth. 

Karol retrieved a hand towel from our en-suite bathroom and wiped the sick away. I hadn't noticed but Michael was now standing in the doorway. He could obviously see that we were handling it and decided to leave us to it. 

I looked down at the timer nervously, “It’s coming up on 4 minutes now.” 

“She’s not slowing down at all,” Karol said. I could hear the panic in her voice. Riley’s seizures rarely lasted this long, occasionally they would but normally she’d be slowing down but her jerking is just as violent as it was to begin with. 

“Let’s not panic,” Micheal said. I could see the pure fear etched across his and Karol’s face- I’m sure the same expression is written across my own. 

She should  be stopping or should have stopped by now. 

It felt like an eternity later but very little time had actually passed and now the timer was now over 5 minutes plus however long it had been going on before we arrived. Michael stepped out of the room to call an ambulance. 

“It’s okay, Love,”  I said quietly as I stroked her cheek, “We’re going to get you help. Its going to be okay.” 

I just kept talking to her, I don’t know what else to do. There's nothing I can do. I couldn’t stop a tear from slipping. I feel so utterly powerless. 

“I know you’re going to be pissed at me later when you find out we called paramedics,” I said, letting out a small chuckle through my tears. “We’ve  just got to make sure there is a ‘later,’ okay Love?” 

[thegodshavehorns]

Capture the Wind (4/5)

Chapter 4: Zugzwang

You are on the road all night.

You watch the lit signs along the road pass by, the lights of the cars flashing red and white. It’s mid Leo and the night is warm and clear. You wonder where you’re going, but don’t want to ask your dad. You’re kind of angry at him. He’s trying to run away from the Seer, and he thinks you’re in danger. But you prayed a lot when you were still going to church and nothing bad ever happened. Your dad is full of shit, and you sit sullenly in the passenger seat, marinating in your resentment.

Your dad doesn’t talk much, and you fall asleep around 2am slumped over a duffel bag. Your sleep is troubled, but you don’t remember your dreams.

In the morning, you are in Canada.

Your dad pulls into the lot of an economy-size motel in a small town, and buys a room. You are exhausted and unhappy and have no trace of empathy for your dad. So what if he drove all night? He chose to do that. Today is Vantaday; you were supposed to go to karate lessons! You don’t even have a permission slip or anything.

You pick up a set of keycards with the receptionist, and drag your duffel and your dad’s suitcases to the second floor. As your dad fiddles with the key card, you pretend to be interested in the floral patterns on the walls. You are pretty sure the receptionist said the room only had one bed. This is going to suck.

When the door opens, the Seer is inside the room.

She has obviously dressed to impress. Her robe is billowing (did she set up a fan?), and she has sigils of Mind blazoned not just on her chest but down the sides of her leggings and on bracelets that attach to rings on her fingers. The blue-green outfit is accentuated by splashes of red, on the belt, the shoes, and the cuffs of her sleeves. Her wings, which you’ve only seen her spread a few times, practically fill the tiny motel room.

She tilts her head, and the red glasses flash. “Took you a long enough. Was the traffic that bad?”

Your dad is standing utterly still, one arm held to the out as though to shield you from the goddess. But this is stupid, you’ve talked with her plenty of times before. You don’t really like her, but you’re not scared of her, not anymore.

The Seer sighs. “You told yourself that this would work, didn't you? My friend Eridan would be livid. Mr. Egbert, I think you are underestimating how valuable your son is to us.”

Your dad does not respond, and she steps to the side, revealing a small table and some chairs. “Unless you want to talk still half-standing in the hallway, I would recommend coming inside.”

You look up at your dad. Slowly, he nods, and steps forward, but only just enough to let the door close behind him. “John,” he says. “You should stay out-”

“No, he shouldn’t,” interrupts the Seer. “It is important for him to be involved.”

A brief look of pain passes over your dad's face. “Please, Seer, he is only a-”

“God,” interrupts the Seer. “He is only a God.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and your dad pales.

The Seer smiles like a shark, and folds her hands on the carved head of her cane. “Oh, good, I have your attention. Now come in before I start to get irritated.”

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

You sit at the table, looking at your dad and the Seer, who are standing. Your dad refuses to sit.

She is explaining your destiny.

“There is a method,” she says, “by which mortals become gods. A trial, of sorts. This trial is only viable for certain individuals, and your son is one of those. Some of my... cohort don’t feel that this method of ascension should be used, but its occurrence is both necessary and inevitable. And, this is the most important part, even though the trial is going to inevitably happen, it is not inevitable that it succeed. Your son may die in the attempt. And so I have, out of the desire to see this trial succeed, taken it upon myself to tutor your son in the necessary skills for ascending to godhood.”

“I will not let you put my son into danger.” Your dad is talking back to the Seer. He’s defying her. You know he’s an atheist but this is insane.

“Your son has already accepted his destiny." The Seer materializes a coin from nowhere and flips it. “It was his choice.”

Your dad looks at you, and you try to stare back as defiantly as you can. “My son is a minor. He can’t be held to this.”

“Well, if you’re going to talk legality, Mr. Egbert, I think you might find yourself out of your depth.” The Seer flips her coin. “You will find that there are loopholes regarding divine pacts and agreements in the laws and statutes of every country on this planet, and in those of most other planets within reach.

“In addition,” she continues. “I think you may have missed the part where I said that the occurrence of the trial is inevitable. In a sense, it has already happened. Surely you know that we gods created ourselves? So it is with John. He has already created himself, and so it is certain that he will face this trial. And neither you nor I nor any other force in this universe could prevent it.” The Seer leans on her cane. “With that in mind, know that I am here to help your son. If it’s his safety you are worried about, rest assured that I am here to make him immortal. With my help, your son will live to see stars birth and die, watch civilizations rise and fall. He will be praised and worshipped. His potential will be limitless. Isn’t that what any father would want?”

Your dad is very still. “How confident are you?”

“I know the trial will happen. I cannot guarantee its success, but training John under my wings is a decent way to hedge his bets.”

“Has it happened before?”

The Seer is impassive. “Not on this planet.”

“And when is this trial to occur?”

“When John is ready.” The Seer pauses. “You are already thinking that you can sabotage my efforts and delay the trial. You think that if you delay it long enough, the inevitable will not occur.” She shakes her head. “You would not be doing your son any favors, by interfering with his training.”

Your dad looks like he’s about to speak, but the Seer interrupts again. “You cannot outrun me, outwait me, or outwit me. Please don’t hurt yourself or John by trying.”

Your dad straightens. “I have conditions.”

The Seer smiles. “You are in no position to make demands, Mr. Egbert. All the same, I am willing to let John stay with you, and allow you to remain a family unit. I am willing to provide education and funds for the remainder of the time before the trial, as you and John may need them. But your final condition is misguided.”

“I will not allow you to keep hurting my son!”

The Seer flips her coin. “Mr. Egbert, I am not doing this because I enjoy hurting your son, much as he might think so. I am doing this because it will help him in his coming trials. Changing the methods of my training would be utterly beside the point. Now, if we’re done with that, you will find that SkaiaCorp has purchased a nice home for you in Calgary. You will be provided with furnishings.”

“Wait,��� you interject. “We’re not going home?”

“Your home burned down last night,” the Seer says. “It is good you moved when you did. Not all the gods are as good at tracking as I am.”

Your dad slowly sinks into a chair. His expression is taut, lips pulled tight.

“I am glad we reached this understanding,” says the Seer. “Feel free to stay in this motel as long as you wish, but your new home will be waiting for you when you come out. And John,” she turns to you. “I hope you brought your hammer with you. We will be resuming our lessons tomorrow.”

She leaves, folding her wings to fit through the doorway. Your dad opens his bag and takes out his pipe. He lights it, and smokes silently for several long minutes.

Then he reaches over and hugs you, hard enough to compress your ribs. He smells of tobacco and very faintly of cake.

And all you can think about is that your computer was in your house, and all your movies.

This is going to suck.

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

You stay in the motel for much longer than your dad originally paid for. You strife with the Seer in the parking lot, and attempt to play psion chess in your tiny room. Your dad applies ice packs to your bruises, and gives you clandestine but unhelpful hints about the chess until the Seer shoos him away.

When you are not with the Seer, you are bored out of your mind. You didn’t bring any books with you,  or video games, or magazines, or anything. The TV in the room is lame, but you watch it for hours with nothing better to do. Your dad won’t take you into town, won’t let you leave the motel. The Seer must have put the fear of Gods in him.

One day, your dad comes back from shopping. You watch as he takes out a small framed print of a clown and props it up on top of the TV, right next to grandma’s cookie jar of ashes. He smiles at you, his eyes sad, and you look away.

You are slowly going insane.

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

The cane swipes overhead, and you duck and strike at the Seer’s knees. She jumps back and strikes low, before whipping the cane up and bashing your chin. Your teeth clack together and you reel back. You hope your teeth didn’t crack. She doesn’t usually aim for the face.

But you’re still standing, so the strife is still on. She strikes for your belly, and you answer without thinking, directing your blow not at her, but at her cane.

The cane is only light wood, and it splinters.

The Seer holds the broken cane for a moment, then grins wryly. “Not a bad idea, shortening my reach. But now the end is sharp.”

That’s not good. “What? You’re not going to…”

“Are you certain?” Her voice is low. “How can you be sure of what your enemy will or won’t do?” She takes a step forward. “How can you be sure you haven’t bitten off more than can fit down your throat?”

“We’re not enemies! That’s not why you’re even here!”

“Are you certain?”

“I don’t know!” Your teeth hurt and your chin is bleeding a little and you’re losing your temper. “How am I supposed to know what I’m supposed to do? I can’t beat you!”

“That’s a defeatist attitude, John. What’s wrong?” She takes out a coin and flips it. Are you done strifing, for now?

“Are you really asking what is wrong?” You gesture angrily with the hammer. “You should know; you know everything!”

She flips the coin. “John, whether or not you are frustrated, bored, or lonely must have no bearing on your martial ability. An enemy will take advantage of you, when you are weak.” She lifts the broken, sharp-pointed cane. “Defend yourself, John.”

But you’re not looking at her. You’re looking at the coin. She’s still flipping it, even as she steps forward to strife. Is this some kind of handicap on herself, to make up for the sharp cane?

You decide to strike first, and she blocks your hammer, unerring as usual. She strikes, and you move to block, but of course it’s a feint, and then the sharp end of the cane rips your sleeve. She’s playing with you, not even breaking skin.

She flips the coin, you strike, she blocks, one-handed. Even with the handicap, she outclasses you in every way.

The coin lands, face-up, and an odd impulse occurs to you. You strike left, and she blocks.

She flips. The coin lands, face-down, and you strike right. She blocks.

You watch the coin as you strife, giving the Seer a lesser degree of attention. She rips your pant leg, your shirt collar, then scratches a shallow cut on your forearm. You ignore it. Face-up. Left. Face-down. Right. Face-down. Right.

Face-up. Left, and she is a moment slower in blocking.

Face-down. Right, and you-

The sound is a dull thud traveling up your arm. And the Seer drops her cane, cradling her hand where you hit her.

“Shit.” You say. “Shit, gods, Seer, I’m sorry-”

She lifts her head, then bares her teeth in something that can’t possibly be a smile, can it?

“Don’t apologize.” She reaches for the cane with her other arm. “Let’s see if you can do that again.”

Your arms are shaking from exhaustion. This is probably the longest strife you’ve had yet. And now she’s not flipping the coin, how can you-

You continue your strife, she draws more blood, shallow cuts and scrapes, and you’re faltering, hoping she just ends this without poking your eye out. You wonder whether she would consider that a just punishment, for landing a hit on her.

There is a strong breeze going, and the Canadian flag is flapping in the wind. You decide to use it as an ersatz coin. If it’s flapping toward you, left, if it’s flapping away, right.

You strike left, left, left, right, right- and strike the goddess in the breastbone with a dull smack.

She staggers back, coughs, gasps. Then, she laughs.

“Oh! Gosh, oh fuck, are you okay?” You are freaking out. This is not okay.

Her laughter turns into coughing. “Go back inside, John,” she croaks. “Good work today.”

You do not feel good about this. You can’t just leave her sitting in the parking lot with possibly broken ribs! “Will you be-”

“GO 1NS1D3.”

You haven't heard her use the Tinge since you first met. You go inside.

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

It’s only that night, after your dad has put unnecessary bandages on all your scrapes (which really aren’t that bad), while you’re lying awake in bed, that you realize she’s never said ‘good work’ to you before.

Does that mean you're getting closer to becoming a god, like her? You've been trying not to think about that part, about what that might mean, or what the 'trial' might be like. You imagine being forced to fight duels against powerful opponents, or to play chess against some kind of crazy-advanced 5th-dimensional computer. You toss and turn on the hide-a-bed, and as you fall into a troubled sleep, your theoretical opponents become shadowy, cackling, horned figures wielding rolled-up posters as swords, and in your half-dreaming state, behind the blackness of sleep, you see for once the faintest hints of gold...

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

Two days pass, and the Seer does not return. Your dad buys another clown picture, and hangs it over the hide-a-bed. This motel room is starting to make you sick.

You are planning your escape.

By which you mean, you are not planning it. You know her weakness, now. She knows what you think, and what you choose. But she doesn’t know what you don’t think and what you don’t choose.

So you’re not going to think. You are not going to plan, you are not going to prepare, and you are going to leave your route up to chance. You are going to flip two coins, whenever you need to decide where to go. Head-Head, you go right. Tail Tail, you go left. Head-Tail, you keep straight.

You can’t tell your dad. He’d probably try to stop you. But he’s recently bought an EZ Bake oven and keeps trying to make muffins, so you can probably sneak out without him noticing.

You are leaving the room. Your dad should be busy with late-night baking, so you’re fine, you’ll be-

“Son.”

Shit. What is he doing out in the hall?

“Dad?” you ask. “What are you doing out here?”

Your dad smiles, and lifts a plastic bag. “I didn’t get quite enough chocolate at the store. I could have gone back, but I thought, ‘The vending machine has chocolate bars. I'll just get those.’ And that's what I did.”

“Oh.” You shove your hands in your pockets and fiddle with your two coins.

Your dad holds his hand out, proffering a chocolate bar. “I got an extra one for you.”

“That’s okay, Dad. I am not hungry.” You’re really not. Your stomach is fluttering and you don’t feel at all like eating.

Your dad wiggles the bar. “Chocolate is good for your heart, you know.”

You snort. “Pff. Yeah right.”

“It’s scientifically proven. Are you going to argue with science?”

“Dad, I’m fine.” How are you going to get out of this?

“It’s also scientifically proven that kids your age argue with their parents whenever possible.” Your dad is still smiling, but the expression is slightly more melancholic than before. “John, take the chocolate.”

You give your dad your most skeptical look, and he sighs.

“You can talk to me, you know. That’s what I’m here for.”

Oh crap. Not another Talk. This is not what you need right now. Time to parry the conversation. “What is there to talk about?”

Your dad reaches forward to touch the scab on your chin from the recent strife.

“Maybe stuff like that,” he says. “Or maybe the bruises that don’t show on your skin.”

You step back, avoiding his hand and taking your hands out of your pockets to shield yourself. “There is nothing to talk about. You know what’s going on now.”

Your dad nods. “I know this must be hard for you, Son. Kids aren’t meant to deal with things like this. She's trying to control our family and your future, and it's wrong.”

You mumble; “I can handle it,” and your dad affixes you with a Look.

“Dad, what do you expect me to say?” You are getting irritated now,and you groan in exasperation. “Augh, it’s, look, talking to her is no big deal. That is not a problem.”

“And the fighting?” Your dad's voice is quiet.

“That isn't a problem either. It’s nothing.” You are lying, and from the way your dad is looking at you, you’re beginning to wonder if the Seer isn’t the only mind reader around.

“Son.” Your dad leans down, looks you in the eye. “She drew blood on you. That’s not nothing.”

He’s right. You look to the side, away from him, at the cheap floral print wallpaper of the motel. “I… think I might have hurt her.”

Your dad puts down the plastic bag, then reaches into it and takes out another chocolate bar, adding it to the first. “Well done.” Then, he puts a hand on your shoulder, gently, to not aggravate the bruising. “But if this is bothering you, then we should talk about it.”

Argh. You knew you shouldn’t have said anything. You are STUPID stupid.

“I’m not bothered,” you say, chewing on your lower lip.

“You are bothered."

“Dad, I'm not, it's just... I dunno, it is weird and strange and I don't know how I'm supposed to act or feel. At all. I do not know what I am supposed to do. Argh. It's like, I don't know. It's dumb. I just can't figure out what she wants from me.” You lower your voice, not even sure if you should be saying this next part, hoping that she can’t hear you thinking it. "I don’t really like her. And I do not think she wants me to like her. But I didn't like hurting her, either."

Your dad gestures vaguely near his face, and you get the feeling that he’d like to have a pipe there. “Well. At least I don’t have to worry about my son getting a crush on a goddess.”

“Dad, please. I am serious.”

“I’m serious too. You don't understand, being a kid, but that would be a real headache. Who would you ask for a blessing, for one? She made herself, so is she her own mother and father?”

You roll your eyes so far back that your eyeballs hurt. “Okaaaaay, Dad!”

Your dad is grinning like a cat. “At least fall in love with a regular alien, if you decide to go that route. They might have funny numbers of eyes and arms, but at least I would know what to do when the in-laws are over.”

“DAD.”

“SON.”

You throw your hands up in exasperation. “What do you want from me?”

He abruptly stops smiling. “I want you to be happy. And I will defy any god who stands in the way of that.”

“Well, that sure didn't make a difference with the Seer!” you snap. It comes out a lot harsher than you meant it to, and you can see immediately that your dad is hurt.

“You’re right,” he says, softly. “I’m sorry, John. I failed you.”

That makes you really uncomfortable to hear, and you put your hands back in your pockets. “It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize. I’m just saying, it probably doesn’t matter what you do to try and stop her, she’ll do it anyway.”

“Maybe she lied,” says your dad. “It’s been known to happen. Maybe it’s not inevitable, this thing she is training you for.”

“Maybe.” That’s what you’re banking on. You broke her prophecy about your dad, after all. “She doesn’t know everything.”

Your dad arches a brow. “Oh?”

You nod. “Yeah. That’s how I hurt her. I found something she couldn't predict.”

“A blind spot, you could say?” your Dad proffers, and you groan. “And what is this ‘something?’”

You pause. You can’t afford to let your ace slip from your sleeve. “I don’t want to say it out loud. Or even think about it a lot.  It is all I have right now.”

Your dad makes that gesture again, like he’s reaching for his pipe. “I see. So what are you planning to do, if you can’t think about it?”

You clutch the coins tightly in your pockets. You could lie to your dad, but at this point you just… really want someone on your side. You are so lonely.

“I’m going to run.” And, at the shocked look on your dad’s face, you continue hurriedly, wanting to explain, not giving him the chance to scold you for being stupid. “I feel like I have to. She hasn't been back in a few days, so now's my chance. And anyway, like you said, since she doesn't know everything, maybe she's wrong about the trial, too.”

Your dad looks solemn. “John, is that what you were going to do, when you bumped into me?”

You look away, “No. I mean, yes.”

“Weren’t you going to bring anything with you?”

“I… didn’t want to think too much about it.”

You glance back at your dad. His lips are sealed tight, but his eyes look soft, almost sad. Is he going to punish you? Send you back into the motel room?

Then, he whips out his wallet, and hands it to you.

“Dad?

“Use the credit cards only if you absolutely have to. They could use them to track you, so use the paper money for what you need. You have five thousand dollars in cash. Budget it."

You take the wallet, eyes wide. You didn’t know what you expected, but it sure wasn’t this. “Dad???”

Your dad is grabbing you by the shoulders, marching you forward. You don’t push back or resist, absolutely flummoxed. He’s still talking. “Don’t withdraw more than a thousand dollars at one location. Don’t go into any churches. Don’t talk to anyone wearing a sigil.”

You are outside the motel, in the parking lot. Your dad turns you around and hugs you, squeezing your shoulders so hard it would hurt even without the bruises.

He lets go of you, not waiting for you to hug him back. “Now go.”

You don’t have time to say anything, no thank yous or goodbyes. He’s already gone into the motel. You’re holding his wallet in one hand, your coins in the other.

You nod, even though he can’t see it. You breathe. Then you turn, and run.

[ladyideal]

Our Love 2/3

Pairing: Leonard McCoy x Reader

Word Count: 3359

Warning: Whoo boy. Cursing, fighting, alcohol, slight fluff at the end, mention of character death, mostly angst and couples arguing

Summary: Two years since you met Leonard at the cafe, and you were together. Now working together on the Enterprise, you were happy. He was CMO, and you were First Officer on board. Concerned over Leonard’s health, you forced him to take a few days break, only to have it backfire in your face. 

A/N: Each part can stand on its own, if you don’t feel like reading it as a series. This is the second part where I chose “The Good Stuff” By Kenny Chesney which I love. Hope y’all enjoy, and you too @cuddlememerrick. ~ Italicized are the lyrics!

Part 1 is here. Part 3 is here.

That was two years ago when you first met Leonard McCoy at the cafe.

Since then, Starfleet had called you back to serve on a ship. With tears, you hugged your mom and the rest of your friends, and bid them a good bye with the promise of calling when you can. Your dad died serving aboard the USS Valiant when you were five. For you though, this was a family tradition. Every generation had served in Starfleet, and you were the fifth. 

Tearfully, you had told Leonard the news. Only to hear that he too was going into space. With luck, maybe you two could serve on the same ship one day. It was easier knowing he was in space, that there was a chance you get to meet him. However, it was a double edged sword, as anytime you could lose your boyfriend to the dangers of what space was known for.

Surprise, surprise though. 

You surprisingly met Leonard on the Enterprise. You explained that Starfleet sent a message saying that you were going to serve as First Officer. Almost immediately, your boyfriend rolled his eyes, and introduced you to his best friend and Captain James Kirk.It wasn’t long before you made friends with him too. 

Now two years later, you had everything you could ever want. Friends, a loving boyfriend, and working on the best place you could ever be.

“Dozed off there, Commander?” Jim grinned from behind you. 

Chekov had taken a sick day off. After some bribing from him, you agreed to take his shift. You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the same thing to you too, Jim,” You frowned down at the notes from the previous ensign at your console. “You drool most of the time.”

“You wound me,” The Captain gasped in mock disbelief, putting a hand over his heart. 

You snorted loudly. “If only that can wound you, then a killing blow must be the actual truth. Isn’t that right, Len?”

“What’s this about the truth?” The doctor asked, looking between you and his best friend as he entered from the turbolift, before settling a scowl at Jim. 

“Bones!” Jim hastily turned to his doctor. “Your girlfriend has been spreading rumors about me.”

“Our Jimmy boy over there disagrees that drools when he naps.” You cut in, ignoring the spluttering from Jim. “What do you say?”

“Infants,” Leonard scowled. “What do you want, Jim? I’m busy.”

Two years brought you more happiness than you’ve ever imagined. He was CMO, and you were the First Officer. Both you and him held busy lives, but you’ve always made sure to find time and try to be with him. After the first year, you moved in with him. 

As a couple, you’ve had your fair share of arguments with him. How you were the one doing the laundry, how the way he cleaned his dishes, how this and that, but nothing big. You were fully grown adults, and you and him did your best to try to reconcile in the middle. Win some, lose some.

Till now. 

“Sweetheart,” Leonard frowned down at his PADD. “Why did Jim put me on a two day leave?”

You tilted your PADD downwards to watch him angrily toss his onto the nightstand. “Yeah, you have a bad habit of overworking yourself, love.”

“You went behind my back, Y/N!”

You put your PADD down entirely, having a bad feeling that was going to go south really soon. “You need a break, Len. Every time you always come back exhausted, and almost all the time, I have to tow you out of your office so we can eat together,” You defended yourself. “I’m only looking out for your well being.”

“I don’t need a. Fucking. Break.” Leonard stalked towards your side of the bed. “What the hell gave you the right to look out for my well being?!”

“Because I'm your goddamn girlfriend!” You stood up. “And that gives me the right to look after you when something isn’t right. You and Jim are the same! You put on the weight of the entire fucking crew on yourself and more, without thinking of yourself first!”

“That does not give you the fucking right to go behind my back!” He stopped, mere inches from you. His face was set in angry lines, red, and even a vein popping out at his anger. Involuntarily, you took a step back and gulped. 

“Len, please,” You tried, eyes widening as he continued. 

“I can’t believe I trusted you!”

“Damn it Leonard McCoy,” You immediately shot back at him. “Would you listen to yourself for one damn minute? You can’t look after the goddamn crew if you can’t look after yourself first!”

“Forget it, Y/N.” Leonard spat, storming out your shared quarters.

When the doors slid shut, you stood there in shock. Before long, you spun on your heels and marched back towards the bedroom. Tears came streaming down, falling quietly onto the carpet below. Crawling into bed, you hugged your knees to your chest and bawled loudly, shaking as you did so. 

All you could do was cycle Leonard’s hard words over and over again, as if the repeat button was broken in, and there was nothing to stop it. It was never easy from the beginning. You knew this, Leonard knew it too. You enjoyed your job, and so did he. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself utterly break down.

“Doctor,” The bartender greeted when Leonard sat down on a bar stool. 

“Bourbon, on the rocks.” 

Wisely, the bartender left. Leonard held his head in his hands, not a single sound was uttered as he sat. A glass of bourbon sat untouched in the quiet bar.

Well, me and my lady had our first big fight 

So I drove around till I saw the neon light

The corner bar, it just seemed right so I pulled up

Not a soul around but the old bar keep

Down at the end lookin' half asleep

But he walked up and said, what'll it be?

I said the good stuff

He didn't reach around for the whiskey

He didn't pour me a beer

His blue eyes kinda went misty

He said you can't find that here

He was ready to spend the rest of his life with you. He was sure you were the one. After the divorce with Jocelyn, you had been there with him since that small cafe. It was easy being around you, almost as easy as breathing. Your smile shone as bright as the stars, your laughter was infectious, and he could get lost in your eyes every time he caught your gaze.

He’d fallen head over heels quickly, and you did too.

Cooking recipes together, eating burnt dinner, enjoying a brief time down at the holodeck. There was nothing you didn’t do on the ship together. He was nervous speaking with your mom the first time when you introduced them to each other. You were a mess when he did the same to you with his mom, Joanna, his sister, and his grandparents. 

Everyone got along well, and were hopeful that he would be it. Every time you went down for an away mission, he would be the one to patch you up. When he went down, you micromanaged up until he returned back into your arms once more.  

The ring was stuffed deep inside his pocket, an uncomfortable constant reminder that he’d made the choice. The subject was brought up after a drunk night, at the same bar he was in now. An old song played, and you told him what you wanted.

Marry him. 

Leonard had never thought that he would ever hear the words again. You had to be kidding, you couldn’t mean what you said. In the morning after, you assured him that you were 100% serious. If you were ever going to marry anyone, it would be him. No one else. 

You were his.

He was yours. 

He’d chosen the ring during one of the shore leaves, while you were out with your friends relaxing at the beaches. Jim had teased him the entire way there and back. It was a small market that he had looked around for. An artisan jeweler brought out the pieces, and after much thought, he had chosen a modest one. 

It was a promise. A promise of more in the future, and a life full of happiness. But now, it felt as if everything he’d worked for was crumbling down. 

“I apologize for intruding, doctor,” The bartender hesitated, barging into Leonard’s thoughts. “A fight with the Commander?”

'Cause its the first long kiss on a second date

Momma's all worried when you get home late

And droppin' the ring in the spaghetti plate

'Cause you're hands are shakin' so much

And its the way that she looks with her eyes and her hair

Eatin' burnt suppers the whole first year

And askin' for seconds to keep her from tearin' up

Yeah man, that's the good stuff

It was just a relationship hurdle Leonard had to go through. Everyone did.  He wanted you and him to work, badly. Jim was no help, and so the only logical thing was to explain it all. He didn’t know how long it was since he last asked for help.

Him and Jocelyn went to marriage counseling, but that fell through immediately. It wasn’t long before they were arguing again, bringing the whole house down. As the rift widened, he knew it wasn’t long before they separated. 

He was right. Now, he didn’t want a repeat number two. 

“Doc, I met my wife five years ago,” The bartender started placing the clean glasses away, reminding of how Leonard first met you. “Lost her after a year together on the Valiant. It was a new planet, and she was a scientist that wanted to know as much as she could. I regret it all, spending my time drinking at a bar when I could’ve been with her.”

Leonard frowned, rolling his glass around in confusion. “I don’t-.”

“Alcohol changes nothing. The problem at the end, is just swept under the rug where hopefully no one ever notices it,” The bartender continued, as though he didn’t hear the doctor in front of him. “But what you don’t know is that turning a blind eye only makes the problem grow bigger.”

He paused. “If I had known that Morgan would be brought back home in just a year, I would take it all back. All the arguing, all the anger, just to be able to see her smile again. It’s not worth it, worth the shouting, worth the pain.  I’d do anything to keep her happy, and I’m sure that’s what you want with Y/N also.”

Leonard nodded, taking a sip as he listened. 

“I spent it all at the bar here. We fought. I drank. We fought more. I drank more. It was a continuous cycle of love and hate. Eventually, we would crash and burn. We would forgive each other, and try to move on. In the morning before she died, we fought too. I told her it was too dangerous, that someone else could go in her place. But my wife was stubborn, said that it was her job as a scientist and to document it all. She later died in my arms, thinking that I hated her.”

The bartender took a sip from his water, looking forlornly out the window. 

Leonard stared down at his empty glass, contemplating the words. When he and Jocelyn started fighting, he had ended up turning to alcohol. Too close with alcohol in fact. Being a resident kept him busy, almost always around the clock at the hospital. It was always work, went home to sleep, and then went back to work again. He took it all for granted, and he paid the price.

Now, he was noticing the pattern again. Working down at the medbay, and only coming back to his quarters dead on his feet. He knew what he had to do. 

He grabbed a carton of milk and he poured a glass

And I smiled and said I'll have some of that

We sat there and talked as an hour passed like old friends

I saw a black and white picture and it caught my stare

It was a pretty girl with bu-font hair

He said, that's my Bonnie, taken 'bout a year after we wed

He said, I spent five years in the bar when the cancer took her from me

But I've been sober three years now

'Cause the one thing's stronger than the whiskey

“Now all I have left of her are my two kids that I raised on my own, and I’ve told them the same that I’m telling you now. Life is too short to focus on the small arguments, to waste it all away on something far less precious than the one you want to be with the rest of your life. Even more so, when no one knows when we will pass out in space where our control is out of our hands, doc.”

Leonard looked back up at the bartender, who was now leaning against the counter. 

“And your kids now?”

 “Morgan didn’t watch them grow up into the adults they are now, and didn’t hold what would have been our grandchildren. All I could remember was drinking all the time in order to drown my sorrows away, and hopefully forget it all.They keep me sober for two years now, and I do it for them now.   Both have their momma’s eyes. But I still miss her like crazy. I miss her laugh, her smile, her jokes, her eyes, the way she moves, everything. What I have left now are memories and a picture of her.”

He indicated a small colored photo propped up against a shot glass with a slight nod. “I keep her on me at all times. But most of my memories were hardly good. So I live with the regret of yelling and arguing at her for the rest of my life. I hope she’s up there somewhere though, in a better place and have forgiven me.”

“If I had the chance to do it right, I would take it within a heartbeat. Don’t repeat what I did. You never know when the good Lord will call your loved ones home.”  

“I understand what you’re tryin’ to say,” Leonard quietly spoke. 

“Here,” The bartender slid a glass of water over to the doctor. “I hope you keep this in mind, doc. We’ve only got one chance to get this right.” 

Was the sight of her holdin' my baby girl

The way she adored that string of pearls

I gave her the day that our youngest boy Earl

Married his high school love

And its a new t-shirt sayin' I'm a grandpa

Bein' right there as our time got small

And holdin' her hand when good the Lord called her up

Yeah man that's the good stuff

“I-I should go,” Leonard stood up, reaching over to pay for his drink. He drained his glass of water quickly. 

“It’s on me, doc,” The bartender waved his offered credits away. “For my wife Morgan.”

Thanking him, he hurried back to his shared quarters, desperately hoping you were still there. He knew what he had to say. All he needed was you to not have left. It would crush him even more if you did. No, he convinced himself. You were still there of course, but unhappy and upset. 

Rightly so. 

You didn’t know how long it had been since Leonard left, but you assumed it must have been a bit by now. Your mind still echoed of his anger, and it was all you could think about. The crying hadn’t exactly stopped either, only enough for you to suffer in the silence. 

It was silent enough that you heard the doors slid open though, and curled up tighter into a fetal position. You hid deeper under the covers, desperately hoping that he wouldn’t be able to immediately see you. You shivered as you heard his footsteps approach. 

“Still here, sugar?” Leonard called out from the hallway. He waited a moment for a reply, a sound, anything, but heaved a heavy sigh in the silence. “Thought so,” he mumbled, slowly making his way towards the bedroom. 

You kept your eyes on your pillow, one side of your cheek brushing against the wetness of the pillow cover. It was easier to not meet his gaze, or anything to associate with him. You whimpered quietly, eyes glassy and faraway. When the mattress dipped beside you, you kept your eyes focused on the other wall, refusing to look at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. 

It’s all you’ve known previously. You’d hoped this time, it would be different. Clearly not. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of it, I swear,” He murmured, slowly sliding his way into the covers beside you. His voice always soothed you, and this time it was no different. Yet, you still didn’t move.

Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around you in an effort to bring you closer to him. Wrenched out of your mind by the sudden contact, you flinched and jumped, before finally turning around to fully face him. 

Leonard looked wounded. For a moment, the self loathing crossed his face before it disappeared as quickly as it came. You knew Leonard, knew him enough that he would never hurt you. Therefore, you trusted him more than you had ever trusted anyone outside your immediate family. 

The mind was cruel that way. It twisted and turned, whispering words of pain and distrust after the fight. Playing a trick was how the mind defended itself, but his time, it was hurting you in its path of self defense. Sniffling, you slowly looked up from his blue tunic and up to his eyes. All you could see reflected in his eyes was apologetic, understanding, and most importantly, love.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he continued, his voice soft and gentler than he had ever used on you. You whimpered once more, and he squeezed you tighter in his arms. “I know. It’s alright.” You ducked your head back down, letting out a sigh of relief that you didn’t know you were holding in, and laid your head on his chest. 

And cried once more. 

“I’m so sorry, sugar,” Leonard spoke lowly. Bit by bit, your tears stopped falling. Quieting down after some time, you let Leonard gently wipe away tear streaks upon your cheeks. You cleared your scratchy throat, hoping to get the words.

“Should’ve told you,” You managed out, looking tearfully back up at him. 

“Let me hold you for tonight, worry about that tomorrow.”

He said, when you get home she'll start to cry

When she says, I'm sorry, say so am I

Look into those eyes so deep in love and drink it up

'Cause that's the good stuff

“I’m not going to break up with you.” Was the first thing you said in the morning over breakfast. You’d taken the day off, knowing that even if you went back to work in the state you were in at the moment, Jim would just take you off anyways. Plus Leonard mattered more to you than a job. He was your everything, and you would do anything to fix this together.

Leonard came first. Job came second.

Leonard frowned, nearly choking over his spit at your words. “You should be furious with me.”

You only shook your head, poking your eggs around before taking a bite. “It's not the first time I've gone through this, Len.” A pause. “And I should’ve known better.” 

“You were looking out for me, sweetheart, and I’m sorry that I yelled at you.”

You reached out with your other hand to grab his, rubbing circles into his skin in an attempt to soothe him. “Thank you.”

That's the good stuff

ST Tags: @mournthewicked​ (You’re the best, thank you.)