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ncssian · 4 years ago

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A Favor: Part Twelve

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: this took so long bc ive been reading chain of iron and in general agonizing over things i cant control instead of being productive 🥴 that being said, absolutely none of the events in this chapter were planned in my outline, but here we are with something new!

***

December brings more snow and bone chilling weather, to the point where Cassian has to drag Nesta out of bed, either physically or by phone call, to get her to therapy appointments on time.

She’s in the waiting room one freezing morning when, in her utter boredom, she musters up the nerve to turn to the girl sitting next to her. “What are you in here for?”

The girl blinks her large blue eyes, taking notice of Nesta for the first time. Nesta uses the opportunity to take in her freckle-painted face, a little wan but beautiful. Reddish brown hair hangs around her face and shoulders, creating a thick curtain from the rest of the world, and Nesta’s curiosity piques like she’s just found a shiny new toy.

It probably isn’t right to compare people to toys, but then the girl says, “This isn’t prison, you know.” Her voice is deep, almost sultry— completely at odds from her huddled-in posture and sickened expression. “I didn’t commit a crime to have to be here.”

Is she insulted by Nesta’s question, or is she poking a joke? Nesta decides to play it safe by murmuring, “Sorry, never mind.”

She starts to turn away when the girl says, “We’re trying a new type of trauma therapy today. I had to get here half an hour early because I couldn’t swallow my nerves.”

Nesta might lack many social skills, but she isn’t stupid enough to ask what kind of trauma the girl is being treated for. Instead, she nods casually as if she understands the struggle. “I’ve been coming here for weeks now and I’ve barely discussed shit. That’s mostly on me, but you know…” She actually doesn’t know where she’s going with her train of thought. “It sounds brave to do whatever you're doing,” she states finally. “I don’t think I’ll be able to open up that much about myself, ever.”

The girl gives Nesta a weird look that she immediately recognizes. Nesta uses it every time she doesn’t know how to respond to someone who takes her by surprise.

The door to Lana’s office clicks open, and the woman herself pokes her head out with a plain smile. “Ready, Nesta?”

Nesta bites down on her frown. She has a feeling today won’t be as easy as her past sessions.

She’s about to leave without another glance at the girl beside her when that low voice speaks up. “I’m Gwyn.”

Nesta looks back at her as she gets up from her chair, and says the first reply that comes to mind: “Good to know.”

***

Nesta is contemplative hours after she gets back from her therapy session, bundled up in her bed with a coloring book. The repetitive motion of filling in the mandala drawing lets her mind wander, picking up and dropping different thoughts like she’s inspecting stones.

She keeps her wrist light as she colors in with red. She finally said Tomas’s name in therapy today, though the action left a slimy feeling in Nesta’s stomach that lingers even now. She also spoke about her sisters, which somehow ended up leading to a discussion of her uterus.

“How have you been dealing with the endometriosis news?”

Nesta shrugged. “I’m getting treated, and my last period was more bearable than usual—”

“I mean mentally, how are you doing? With how your condition could affect your future?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. “Affect me how?”

“Have you never considered the impact it could have on your ability to bear children?”

“Not everything in life is about bearing children, you know.”

“We’re humans. It’s definitely something to consider.”

“Not for me. I’ve never wanted kids.” A mistruth at best. “I don’t care what endo does or doesn’t do to me on those grounds.”

In a way, Nesta told herself, the health risks were actually for the best. If she ever did, by some stupid loss of sanity, try to have children, then her body would act as a safety net from her decisions.

Lana only said, “You’ll never know how much you care or don’t care until you talk out your feelings.”

“Then I guess we’ll never know.”

Nesta lets the memory of that conversation drop like a stone on a shore. That’s not something she has to face for a good long while. No, right now she has to face her past.

Her sisters, and her ex, and even her father—

I wonder if I came off too strong with Gwyn today.

Her hand stops drawing, and she switches out her red marker for an orange one. This thought she doesn’t mind inspecting for a little longer: she and Gwyn ended up leaving their sessions at the same time, which meant they were forced into stilted conversation on the way down to the parking lot.

Not forced, Nesta self-corrects. She willingly initiated a conversation, and it didn’t go terribly. She wonders if making friends in therapy waiting rooms is a real thing.

Her phone vibrates beside her, breaking her hours-long mental bubble. Blinking dazedly, she answers the phone call.

“How are you?” is the first thing Cassian says to her. He makes sure to ask her that at least twice a day, like a gauging of her temperature. It makes Nesta wonder what she’s ever done in her life to call for such… attention to her well-being.

“I’m good,” she answers honestly. “My head’s a little loud right now, but I don’t mind it.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No, I’d rather hear you talk.” She slumps back against her pillows, coloring book forgotten. “What’s up?”

“Ah...” Cassian sounds hesitant for the first time since their relationship started. “It’s just that I haven’t gotten my Christmas decorations up yet, and I was going to ask if you wanted to help.”

Nesta takes a moment to absorb his words. “It’s December fifth,” she says.

“Yeah?”

“You just seem like somebody who does their decorations the day after Thanksgiving.”

“Well, this year is a little different, with you moving out and being busy with school…” He pauses. “I was waiting to do it with you.”

When she doesn’t reply, Cassian adds, “I don’t even know if you care about Christmas. I know you and your family sort of ignored holidays. It’s fine if you don’t want to—”

“I’ll be over right now,” Nesta blurts.

Half an hour later, Cassian swings open his door with a smug grin on his face; a vast difference from the stammering hesitance he displayed over the phone earlier. Nesta’s own lips want to pull up into a smile just at the sight of him, but she holds back and narrows her eyes instead. “What’s got you so worked up?” she questions as she steps into the warmth of the cabin and out of the freezing cold.

“The way you ran over here as soon as I asked.” He looks her up and down, still amused. “You didn’t even bother to change, did you?”

It’s true: she’s in the same sweatpants and long sleeved tee she wore around home, and her socked feet are shoved into slippers.

“Get that smirk off your face.” Nesta flicks his nose before tossing her coat off. “If this is a competition about who’s got a bigger puppy-crush for whom, you already won when you delayed putting up your Christmas decorations for me.”

“Fair enough,” he grins. The words send an unexpected pang through Nesta, because it’s partly true, isn’t it? He cares more openly for her than she does for him.

She looks away in guilt, not knowing how to fix the imbalance. Her eyes land on the living room coffee table, where their half-finished jigsaw puzzle sits. It’s been stored under the couch for the past few weeks, forgotten by Nesta and Cassian alike as they moved on with their lives, but now it’s sitting out again.

“Have you been working on the puzzle without me?” She raises an inquisitive brow, about to feel— hurt.

“Never,” Cassian promises, saving her from that irrational hurt. “I just brought it out because I figured we should get to finishing it one day.”

She pads over to the table, picking up a puzzle piece and turning it over in her hand. “I don’t know if you remember, but we had a terrible time working on this,” she scoffs lightly.

“Oh, I remember,” he says, coming up behind her and stealing the piece from her grasp. “I think it’s safe to say those evenings were the worst fights we’ll ever have together.”

Nesta leans back against Cassian’s chest and hums. “It made us a stronger couple, don’t you think?” She turns her head up and back to meet Cassian’s eyes, finding that he’s already looking down at her.

Hypnotized, she leans into his warmth. She only manages to land the smallest kiss against his lips when his hand squeezes her ass cheek. “You’re here for a job, remember?” He taps her butt before pulling away, gesturing to the Christmas tree in the corner of the living area with his chin. It stands bare. “You do tinsel, I’ll do lights.”

Tinsel is harder to work with than Nesta remembers. She only manages to get half the tree done before plopping onto the Persian rug, exhausted and covered in silvery material. She doesn’t mind laying there while Cassian continues working; it’s her revenge for when he napped on her bed while she moved in.

“You know the stair railings still need to be wreathed, Archeron.”

Nesta declines to respond, tilting her head on the carpet for a better view of her boyfriend’s ass instead. “All this decorating,” she starts. “Is it just for you?”

Cassian turns to her, surprised. “Well…”

She pushes up onto her elbows, catching her mistake. “Are we doing Christmas together? Or are your friends coming over?” She hasn’t bothered to celebrate Christmas in years now, and she doesn’t care much what Cassian’s plans are either way.

“I was hoping for both?” He sounds hesitant. “Christmas Eve is all the way over in Velaris, but I was thinking we could go together, open some presents, and come back and spend Christmas here.”

Nesta purses her lips. She doesn’t actually hate that plan. Both Feyre and Elain have been pestering her with the annual texts asking her to visit for Christmas, and for once, she feels like responding to them. The invitation is more of a formality than an actual request at this point; she doubts her sisters want her there after years of rejections, but… what’s the harm?

“Is that a yes?” Cassian asks at her unreadable face.

“Yes,” she states unflinchingly. She refuses to overthink the possible consequences of this choice and chooses to focus on the broad grin overtaking Cassian’s face. “Really?” he says.

“But there has to be rules.” Nesta sits up fully now. “No one can know we’re together, no matter how much you trust or love them.”

“We already agreed to that, baby.”

Yes, but Nesta knows the secret weighs on him heavier than he shows— even if he agrees with her that it's for the best. “It’ll be different when we’re together in the same room as everyone else,” she says. Cassian wears his beating heart on his sleeve, and she doesn’t think he’s ever had to hide it before.

“You’ll also be different,” she adds. “It’s a huge change of pace.”

Cassian drops the remaining strand of lights and smiles confusedly down at her. “What do you mean, I’ll be different?” He sits across from her, before the blazing fire.

“You know how you get around your friends.” Nesta shrugs without a thought. “Like your personality readjusts to mirror the people around you. I used to find it a mix of sad and adorable, like a neglected puppy desperate for love, but now I— okay, I still feel the same way.” She waves a hand in a dismissive gesture.

By the look on Cassian’s face, he does not find her words so easily dismissed.

Coldness curdles in the pit of Nesta’s stomach, the realization that she’s said something wrong. She can’t fix it until she knows where she fucked up, though.

“Is that what you think of me?” Cassian finally says lowly. His usually expressive mouth is drawn tight and narrow.

“Um… What would you rather I think of you?”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “Seriously, Nesta?”

Nesta’s back stiffens, refusing to cower. “I only described what I’ve observed in the past.”

“And what you observed was a desperate puppy?” His voice is cold in a way she’s never heard before.

Okay, she’s starting to see how that might be offensive. She forges onward, “Tell me what you think about yourself in the presence of your family, then.” It’s a private victory that she says family instead of clown circus. But she’s not trying to turn this into a fight.

Cassian is silent, but his stare continues to rage at her.

“Tell me,” Nesta repeats.

His hands curl into fists on the rug. “I think I’m empathetic, easy to talk to, and easier to be around. Is it a problem if I’m likable?” Unlike you are the unsaid words.

Nesta inspects the space between them like it’s a chessboard. “And what part of yourself are you giving up to be so likable, Cassian?” she says quietly.

“Nothing.”

Nesta disagrees, if only because she’s been watching him out of the corner of her eye for years. “I think you base your personality off of those you love, and you lose a little bit of your true self every time you put others’ needs before your own.”

She shuts her mouth, not having expected such honesty to come out of it. Cassian is taken aback, too, she can tell.

“And I guess it’s natural that you’d see all of that as a bad thing, considering your history of being closed off and self-serving to a fault,” he fires back with the flatness Nesta utilizes so often.

One for one. Fair enough. “We’re both right then,” Nesta says. “You work for your best friend because you have no ambition beyond serving your family, and I have no such family because I can’t bring myself to care about those things. Are we even now?”

Cassian furrows his brows, those defensive walls melting away as he realizes she’s completely serious. “What? No, Nes—” He shakes his head. “Okay, so maybe you’re right about me. Maybe I agree with you a little bit, but… If we see flaws in each other, then we should be working to overcome them instead of weaponizing them.”

Now Nesta’s the one shaking her head, quickly lifting a hand to stop him. “Relax there, sweetheart. I have no expectations from you or myself to go on some self-improvement journey now that we’re together. Talking about my feelings with a professional every week is hard enough.” Yes, agreeing to go to Feyre’s Christmas party is improvement. Slow, barely there improvement, but enough to wear her out for the rest of the month. For Nesta to fully let people into her life, to treat them as lovingly as she treats Cassian— that’s a long way away. She can’t envision it, doesn’t even know if she wants it.

Cassian must understand some of what she’s thinking, because he nods and backs off. He gets back up and returns to stringing lights, tossing a handful of tinsel at Nesta as if to say Get back to work.

She stands and obeys, thinking their not-argument is officially over when Cassian says, “You’re wrong about one thing.”

She looks up from where she threads tinsel through fir leaves. He doesn’t take his eyes off his work as he says, “You do have a family. And deep, deep down, you care about them as much as I care about mine.”

***

Nesta catches Emerie’s eye as the dark-haired beauty walks into the pub. Raising a hand and waving, she gestures Emerie over to the booth she’s sitting in.

“Look what I found,” Nesta says with a hint of pride, pointing to the redhead sitting beside her. “A third girl for girl’s night!”

“I was kidnapped,” Gwyn speaks up. “Jumped on the way to my car.” She’s out of her usual hoodie and in a tight-fitting blouse, looking stunning even while seeming out of place in the dim bar.

“She came here consensually,” Nesta retorts. “Emerie, this is Gwyn. We met at therapy.”

Gwyn offers Emerie an awkward smile.

Emerie slides into the booth across from them with raised brows. She looks between Nesta and the new girl and back again. “You invited her here? All by yourself?” she asks.

Nesta nods firmly.

Emerie breaks into a wide grin and reaches over the table to grab Nesta’s hand. “I’m so proud of you!” If Emerie were anyone else, she’d be squealing in excitement, but Emerie does not squeal.

Nesta waves off her friend’s praise, though a part of her wants to beam at it, too.

Gwyn glances between the two of them with slight amusement. “I mean, it’s not that impressive,” she says. “She came on a bit too strong, probably a five out of ten on the asking-someone-out scale.”

“‘A bit too strong’ is all you’re gonna get with Nesta,” Emerie says, lifting her hand to order drinks. “She’s all-or-nothing, and most people would pray she doesn’t give them her nothing.”

Nesta doesn’t know if that’s a compliment, but she supposes there are worse things that could be said about her.

“So, Gwyn, what do you do?” Emerie leans forward. “All our friends are law students and it’s starting to get boring.”

Gwyn goes off about her librarian job as Nesta orders their drinks, and Emerie rests her chin in her hand and listens eagerly. Christmas music plays softly in the background and snow flurries gently outside. Nesta thinks she can’t be doing that bad in life, if she’s managed to carve out this little slice of happiness for herself.

***

a/n: i promise shit actually happens next chapter! we're getting christmas with nessian and the ic in the same room for the first time

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#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian fic

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nicegaai · 1 year ago

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breaking this into one shots hmmmm what would that look like hmmmm.

ok this is getting long maybe this isnt oneshots but the overall definitely not half assed timeline im piecing together of their lives mostly focused on iceland bc i know more ab icelandic history than norwegian

might recycle old ficlet of nor finding out ice exists. it doesnt gel w current headcanons anymore, so maybe not. in any case, i start by establishing their first meeting or first impressions or something like this. either in person, or via messenger. downplaying the psychic connection stuff.

nor and his collection of letters from ice and how he feels about the little guy. and some of ices life from his narration to nor in the letters. ive had this letter correspondence hc for a long time i think i could have fun w it. i wanna research rune sticks again

oh my god. wha t if i . what if i made this a part 2 of my vinsaga crossover oneshot i keep meaning to finish writing ........ anywayz nor comes to visit via bargaining w trading ships and den comes with him to meet ice for the first time. (this is denmarknorway's twin realms era) and i want to establish where and how ice lives on his own, if its on his own. all that. i have a few conflicting thoughts on his living situation. and ofc it changes over time.. but he is a lonely boy. and the two come w lots of gifts and he does his best to b hospitable. hes jealous that den knows his brother so well and sees nor more than he does. hes too loud. but hes really nice :'( denmark is like holy shit nor you have a mini me

kalmar era n5 living together cliche setting, something something iceland isnt strong enough (old enough) to be away from his home for long. long being a few years to a decade, time moves differently and all. he wants to stay but doesnt want to stay but knows he will miss everyone but isnt holding up well in mainland scandinavia. is granted permission to go home. cries about it. he plans to come back when he's well, but then the situation collapses politically while he's gone. he begins to write to norway again.

they spend a medieval midwinter holiday together. not for the first time or the last. i want this one to happen soso bad but research would b a whole thing and i havent done it so i cant even say much rn. its at denmarks house because a) he really cares about keeping their facsimile of a family together b) iceland belongs to him now post-kalmar so he'd be there either way. nor comes. sweden comes with him. finland also comes, because sweden wants him to + finland misses everyone too and its nice. theyre reconciling on a personal level / having a NICE FAMILY XMAS and we're NOT FIGHTING ABOTU POLITICS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TRUCE until new years!!!!! and ice spends the whole time ignoring the elephants in the room and going omg..... nor way looks so cool .... wow .......... and nor hangin out w him to avoid drama n being like iceee u got tallerrr i missed u i wuv u!!<- beaming these thoughts into his head but otherwise being like Hello.......... important to note that iceland is still a creepy child, this is important to me. finland is sick of the thick tension between den & su and goes over to where ice and nor are coloring and is like hi guysss what r u doingg and iceland turns around dead stare and is like this is my depiction of the end of the world in fire and blood. my medium of choice today: the humble crayon. hes like idk seven or eight. and they didnt have crayons then but whatever. and nor is like he has such an artistic soul ... im in charge of drawing the parade of demons. their resemblance is uncanny in both appearance and weird aura. and finland gets to be in charge of drawing something else and they 3 have a good time together while denmark and sweden try to amicably bake cookies together. greenland is outside avoiding everyone this-house-is-a-fucking-nightmare style and faroe didnt even show up btw. and sweden only brought norway ..... and finland. not because hes in love with him or anything

laki volcanic eruption ficlet. 1700s. (this might be too dramatic of a timeskip i might be missing some things). iceland is deathbed-ill and den sends nor in his stead to check on him. no den doesnt have any power over nor, he is worried as a father but isnt able to leave his duties and he knows nor is even more worried than him. he brings many gifts courtesy of den and some from him. food, supplies .. he doesnt know how bad it is yet. i have a whole thing for this. he stays through the first winter, at least. maybe a year. i dont think he can afford to be away from his own lands for long, the eruption aftermath is bad all over. but nor DOES believe for a while that iceland might die (he wont. maybe naturally, of poisoning, but he comes back.) and stays in iceland longer than he should. just in case. this is also ice's beginning of adolescence mayb??????? he had a very slow start of 700 years as a child but either shortly before the event, or after he survives this, he gets another growth spurt.

iceland is spending a Proper Christian Christmas / winter holidays / end of the year celebration at denmarks, some years later. specifics depend on what research will turn up. uhh the french revo happened the usa exists now. more importantly, norway and iceland BOTH come to christmas this year. and ice is around the age nor was when they first met (11? 13?) and nor is now late teens early 20s. aaaand this is where icelands crush rly starts to take off. 7 bullet points in, yes. he and nor havent seen each other in a while and nor is excited to see him again finally not just in letter correspondence! and iceland is excited to see him too! but when they SEE each other ice feels Strange and way more nervous than he should be and doesnt know what to do,, and avoids him and hides in his room a lot ... and nor is like Ohhh hes at That Age ... hes a big boy now he thinks hes too cool for his old man *cracks knuckles* time to be the most annoying guy on the planet. and hits him with like the "look who finally left his cave" when ice comes out for dinner ......... their perception of the situation is so mismatched but they survive the holidays eventually. (my gut feeling is iceland asks den for advice pretty quick, and denmark just Doesn't Get It because ice is too vague with the problem. he's like aw it's been a while since youve seen each other but you're brothers and he loves you, dont be scared haha! but you know when u have a crush and its unmistakable? iceland knows whats wrong pretty quickly. and hes definitely goign to hell. hes up in his room all day on that damn rosary praying for salvation) (actually maybe norway DOES pick up on what's happening. not immediately but maybe by the end of it all. he didnt need words) (and even with words denmark doesn't get it) the way he gets all flustered is so cute, he wants to spoil him more or tease him more or something. its too bad ice'll grow out of it soon and then he really WILL be too cool for his old man :(

norway invites him to his home for hunting season-- they can shoot some big game that iceland can't get at his home.. theyve done this before over the years, these days they use guns but they didnt used to. elk jerky is a nostalgic flavor for ice ... hes Nervous about this trip though. being alone..just him and norway. with no buffer or room to hide in. once there, iceland stops calling norway his brother. hed stopped in his letters a while ago, just talking around it, but now nor can TELL tell. ice isnt sure he ever understood what "brother" meant to him, but he doesn't feel good about using it anymore. nor is hurt but doesnt really say much about it beyond asking ices reasoning. ice might go so far as to confess to him, being 14 and insane. and nor is like yeah i know its a phase dw. and ice is like oh .......... and somewhere in here they have a little nor 'indulging him in a kiss after he insisted on it /instigates it' drama and then being like thats all you get. im not doing this with you, i see you as a son. and he really thinks thats fine and normal to say and theyll both move on but it really fucks ice up. the rest of the trip, theres some teasing thats lighthearted on nors part but ice Really Cannot Take it. his letters following this get shorter. and shorter

iceland is finally in high school. his growth is coming in fits n spurts and hes passable as a high schooler now (the babyface kept working against him) which is soooo awesome. its the early 1800s. he gets a high class education at a 3~5 year boarding school for proper young men near copenhagen. only the best for denmarks favorite stepson. iceland is a booksmart kind of kid hes always been destined for academia. but unfortunately hes a shortking fish out of water that gets moderately bullied. but i think hes good with cold words to fire back so earns enough respect to not get wedgied or anything stupid. he also would go insane in a fistfight given the opportunity. but yes he isnt really there to make bougie connections w danish kids, this is about him and having this experience thats so trendy and cool right now, all the other young guys at his house aspire to do what he's doing. education is so cool and hes not very concerned about much else. he doesn't write to norway anymore. norway hasn't written to him much either. denmark reeeeally wants him to come to his home for christmas holidays and whatnot but he insists on going Home-home on his breaks. sorry denmark he doesn't enjoy family gatherings he wants to be alone ....

they see each other again. its brief, a day or so, and not something they planned ahead. an overlapping holiday with denmark or a meeting with sweden over something. iceland wasnt meant to be there but hes shadowing denmarks government work. they meet essentially as nations, surrounded by officials and bosses and humans. iceland doesn't want to talk to him. nor gets them two a moment alone and iceland drops the professionalism and goes full teen drama mode. DONT TOUCH ME .... im still in love with you ... and norway is like. wtf come on. and then buys him lunch and tries to get him to be normal. because nor is like youre my brother so i love you anyway. okay. i dont hate you. just breathe

wwi. wwii. then icelands independence. that's a lot of ground to just Not Cover but idk,,, i could just not. im more interested in learning ab the industrial revolution coming to iceland. i know a little ab how there used to be One Train in iceland and i think thats funny. i digress. iceland does a lot of growing up in a relatively short period of time. theres so much i could say. i also love the story ab danish royalty attending the very first independence celebrations, i think denmark would come. and maybe norway .. ,???????? and he'd be awful about nor beign there. idk. time period stuff

theyre both independent countries now and have to meet on business and honestly the whole awkward troubled teenager thing is so oldddd nor just doesnt careeeee. nor is convinced ices crush is a phase of several hundred years and hes half annoyed half flattered, overall misses him since ice is all uuuu tormented about it. well, nor isnt even mad ab it he just wants to be close with his baby brother again. after work he invites him out for a drink. just to talk and loosen up a bit. ice is hesitant but gets a push from his boss / aide who are like this would be good for you!! just say yes! (they dont know anything) and ice is like ugh fine but im only drinking a little bit. he is of age to drink low percentage alcohol, no shots or anything. and they have fun and talk. nor is only good at talking when hes not sober and ice knows this. they talk ab a lot of nothing at all and it heals ices soul about 4%.

they drink after work more often. they only get that chance a couple times a year, usually with other people around. iceland is getting more comfortable with this, but hes still not around so often. hes far away and values his privacy and is still newly independent. he doesn't want to be or feel back under anyone's wing. he misses denmarks typical family christmas (now hosted every other year at swedens house) for a few years claiming to be overworked, needing the rest, and disliking travel around the holidays. those years are when den and nor show up on his doorstep on new years day breaking plates and shit. and they bring him leftover christmas cookies and presents. nations dont do xmas/bday presents every year to me, because thats way too much to think about when ur immortal and years go by quickkk ... but ice always gets presents because hes the youngest and they cant help themselves

part 2 of above. consider this!!!!!!: denmark has to leave right away and hes sad ab it but nor has the time to spend an extra night. they still have extra mulled wineeeeeeee ... and various alcohols. they drink together and iceland gets a little silly with it. traumadumps about having a thing for him how fucked up it was of him to kiss nor that one time and he feels so bad he violated him like that and nor is like *non sober thoughts* i know how i can fix him. and kisses him. et cetera see original post. they make out for a while and then go to bed but like literally. maybe theyre both in the same bed but fully clothed. they pass out. next day nor has a flight to catch and ice drives him to the airport. they dont talk about it. norway presses a kiss to his forehead before he leaves , confusing ice further.

i lost about , 4 hours of my life typing this i think. im cutting myself off RIGHT NOW before i lose my whole day off

if i was brave i would hammer out my ocs for greenland and faroe and give ice some siblings to throw some contrast between how they feel about norway and how iceland feels about him.

hey wait this is 99 percent gen fic what gives. another sad sad case of what if you took the ship material out to cast a wider net of interest on your insane niche project ????????????? but unfortunately the incest is vital to the experience and this iceland interpretation. plus i wouldn t be likely to finish or start this if it was strictly platonic whalebrothers

having nor/ice thoughtssssssssssssss sad sad whiny kitty cat noises. wahhhh. im thinking about them wahhhhhhhh. WAHHH

what if i took all my small canonverse ideas and compiled them into ONESHOTSSSSS........................................ and what if they were CHRONOLOGICALLY ARRANGED ..... and showed RELATIONSHIP PROGRESSION over the course of 1000 years ...... and it wasnt that deep but i pretended it was and called it something like "i was meant to keep you warm" because i love to steal fox/i/ng lyrics. maybe even id find a way to make this a 5 times + 1 time format.

if i can wrestle my way into figuring out what goes on in nors head i could do it. ive figured that i want ice to never ever see him as a brother. my vision is that nor is iceladns hot babysitter fantasy and first crush that never goes away. he wants to marry him when he grows up but then his feelings stay that way and it never ever ever ever ever goes away and only gets worse. u understand? do u see it

and UNFORTUNATELY nor knows ic/eland likes him from the beginning. he can tell from like ice's adolescence onwards and is like yeah idk about all that...... but the attention is flattering and he loves this little guy so much and thinks its sweet. he doesnt get to visit often but ice writes him a lot because hes in love with him ykwim and nor loves him so much too (platonic) and always writes back.

and yeah they go through periods of living together for various reasons. sickness unions famines etc etc. not ever for long and nothing ever happens. if adolescent iceland pushed boundaries, nor would humor him a little with like...a kiss, bc he spoils him, but ultimately he hard-shuts it down. and ice would be traumatized forever and block the memory out / be eternally tormented at night by the time he did such and such so is the worst person alive etc

and ice begins teen life with the whole he will never love me and i am a tormented soul shtick. now he writes to him less, tries to put more distance between them... so it hurts less and all that. hes not GOOD at pretending he hates nor or whatever but its easy to lose connection when messages are rare and visits are rarer

he spends much more time at denmarks than with no.rway. he sees den.mark as a proper older brother / uncle / fatherly figure. hes closer emotionally to him and lives with him more and all that. his tutors are danish and he goes to boarding school in cop.enhagen in the 1800s. idk how this ties into the romance necessarily but its timeline relevant. whether or not denmark picks up on the crush , i dont know. i could go either way lol. also, den + nors relationship is strictly brotherly btw. ironically. because theres not enough fics where theyre platonic and i really do enjoy them that way too

nor and ice remain distant for several hundred years. its once ice gets into his pushing for independence mixed with modern technology for better communication ..... somewhere between say, the invention of the airplane and landline phones, nor and ice repair their relationship. iceland is coming into adulthood (independence) for real, and is SO mature about his international relationships. he can be so mature and normal about norway. he can sit down with him and have lunch and discuss business and norway wont talk down at him for being young at all (lie) and he'll be so chill about that and not yell at him (he only does it once) (he only has to do it once)

all this isnt to say n.orway himself didnt attempt to stay close over the years, but ic.eland wasnt reciprocating, and even if they saw each other every year at christmas (doubt) that doesnt make them really CLOSE. but i think iceland was always particularly special to him bc of how close they were as kids. and they WERE both kids back then. little icela.nd sent him letters while nor was like 14 at best. i believe in teen mom norway and his eldest sondaughter icey. at least from nors perspective. even tho hes so absent so much of the time. when he comes around he showers him in gifts as a love language even way back when

anyway, ice.land still has an obvious crush on nor and nor finds it SO cute. like he could just pinch his cheeks and coo at him for it. ice tries to keep a lid on his emotions but can only do so much. nor doesnt SAY anything to point sus behavior out. but as soon as he notices,,,, its like there was no time apart, to nor. ice is so closed off and stiff and weird around him and nor wishes he would relax so they can connect properly and he honestly CANT

the solution is to drink otgether i think. at some point. maybe not immediately but they'll get to it.

icela.nd isnt like oohg im too young to drink, i think hes just lived long enough that hes a bit Over It / doesnt want to act like an idiot / really doesnt want to act like an idiot in front of nor. but nor could peer pressure him into anything if he really tried so they finally get tipsy together and i think that goes a long way to repair their relationship.

they do this many times and as long as ice is careful to not drink a lot he'll be fine. hes gotta keep his wits about him and still be able to feel shame. one time he indulges a little hard and i think ice trauma dumps on him and they kiss to make up for the time nor pushed him away and nor didnt realize he was still hurting so much about that. nor is tipsy enough to do it (not even drunk) and afterwards he goes ohh wait i kind of enjoyed that. and do it a few more times then make out for a while and it doesnt go anywhere, they fall asleep

the next day they completely remember kissing and know the other remembers it and just mutually dont talk about it.

icelan.d is VISIBLY struggling even harder around him for at least a few days until he gets a handle on his emotions. and nor has a lot to think about. in general.

i dont know where the dna stuff comes in. im falling asleep while typeing this

but icelan.d obvioiusly is like wtf? we arent related. thats impossible. i cant even fathom this. and nor.way is like you are the closest i will ever have to family and i am your biological father and icel.and is like what the fuck ew you can say brother as much as you want but never say father again im begging you and nor is like Bet.

and then they test and they're first degree related. father or brother would be appropriate. and nor is like yeah obviously (already believed this when he kissed him) and ic.eland is like (max harlow voice) SUICIDE !! SUICIDE !!

icelan.d sits with that information for a while but his crush still doesnt go away. nor gives him space and also sits with the information. he never thought he'd end up here but he decides that hes into it. its kinda hot. I Do believe in slutty n.orway supremacy i thnk hes slept with most of europe and doesnt have a strong internal sense of familial boundaries considering he is a landmass and is like yeah id do that again we're both adults hes cute whatever

next time they see each other nor comes onto him. and ice is squeemish about it but this is also everything hes ever wanted. whats he gonna do, say no?

at this point i fell asleep but im awake again uhhhh

ic.eland gets to cope with being a creep a weirdo and getting what he wanted in the worst way possible and nor gets to torment him with the brother thing not as a kink but bcz it makes him uncomfortable and he thinks its funny.

i forgot to talk about the actual oneshot ideas that inspired this in the first place didnt i. oh well

aaaaaaaaaaaaand post

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one-boring-person · 4 years ago

Note

You forced this upon yourself😂 you forced this rambo simp.(and i dont mind)

Okay this may not be as good! But! Im giving you the liberty to take it where you want!(because i love your little details and how you express the feeling in your writing i- AH! Its great. I cant say it enough, it’s great. I mean it.)

How about Rambo finally getting enough courage to show The rancher around the tunnels, in a date sort of way!(they don’t know thats actually where he lives. Aka that photo i showed you before.) i really saw how the rancher was so happy to have him at their house, I’d love to see rambos side of scheduling a house tour and date type deal!! Maybe him even sitting and showing the rancher through all his old photos, and them just in awe because wow. He’s so much cooler than they even thought! He just so nervous and surprised seeing them so interested in him after all this time alone, and them just- in awe of him.

( i also really think it would be funny seeing rambo go through his friends house and seeing-“why the hell you have so many plants???” And just. Adorable assassin living with a wholesome and loving hardworking s/o)

Ah! Im sorry if that’s not as good!! But hey, you feel free to describe their antics and relationship as you will!!

I think I may have run a bit with this, but I hope you like it regardless!😊💛

I've Got Your Back, You've Got Mine.

John Rambo (Rambo IV/V) x reader

Warnings: mention of death, mention of war, mention of injury, mention of PTSD, mention of violence, (possible flash warning for gif?)

Masterlist

The heavy knock on the door surprises me where I'm sitting, the sharp sound snapping me from my thoughts. Looking over at it from my position at the table, I frown and set down my spoon, standing to go answer, unsure of who it is: I'm not expecting anyone today. Colt looks up from his place on the floor, the dog just as curious as I am as to whom it may be, though he doesn't bark, so it must be someone we know. He watches me as I cross the room, going straight to the door.

Opening it, I'm somewhat surprised to see my neighbour, John, standing there, a tentative smile on his face as he looks me over appreciatively, his gaze drawing a blush to my face.

"Mornin' (Y/n)." He greets, rough voice friendly as he waits for me to let him in.

"Morning John." I smile back, delighted to see him, "What can I do for you?"

I step back, waiting for him to enter, which he does so with a nod of thanks.

"Since when have I needed a reason to see you?" The veteran chuckles, the sound reverberating within me, my brain subconsciously storing the action away for later recall. Gently, John moves into my space, one hand coming to lightly rest on my hips as the other cups my face, drawing me in for a slow kiss.

Kissing back, I feel a glow of happiness flare up in me at this contact: he's never really one to initiate touch like this, so it's a whole lot more intimate when he does. Relaxed, I loosely wrap my arms around his neck, languidly caressing his dark hair as our lips move together.

Being the killjoy he often loves to be, Colt pushes in between us, nosing at John's leg, tail wagging enthusiastically as he recognises the familiar man, the dog as fond of his company as I am. Chuckling, John and I pull apart, looking down at the large canine between us, the dark eyes staring up at us imploring us to pay attention to him. Still smiling, John lowers a hand to scratch Colt's head, ruffling his floppy ears a little as the dog instantly allows his mouth to hang open, tongue lolling in content.

"Hey, Colt." The veteran greets, biting back a laugh as the dog pushes me out of the way, nudging at John's stomach.

"He never gets that excited to see me." I complain jokingly, standing back to watch the two interact, a smile playing at my lips.

"Sure he does." John replies, eyes fixing on mine with an expression of fondness, one that had me weak at the knees.

"He really doesn't, he just sits in the corner and whines at me until I feed him. Isn't that right?" I address the dog himself, giving him a light slap on the rear, his ridiculous height meaning I can quite easily reach it, "Anyhow, did you need something? Or did you just come here to kiss me? I can't say I'll complain if that's the case."

Cheekily, I wink at the veteran, leaning back against a nearby counter.

"As nice as that sounds, it's not the reason I came by." He chuckles, blushing lightly, "Though that does sound good."

Grinning, I nod my agreement, only now taking in his body language: he's nervous. His hands fidget, rubbing his fingers over scars and lines on his palms, and he shifts from foot to foot every now and then, small tells he's never quite managed to hide from me.

"Is something up?" I ask him, slightly more serious this time, unnerved by his discomfort.

"No, no, not at all. I, err, well, I just wanted to ask you something." He rubs the back of his neck, head tilted to the side as he regards me, dark eyes fixed on mine.

"Ok, go for it." I prompt him, curiosity sparking my interest.

"Well, do you wanna come to mine? I mean properly, like in the house." John cocks his head to the side, lowering his arm again.

Blinking, I feel shock flood my system, before it turns to unbelievable happiness that he's trusting me enough to come into his private space. Initially, I can't find the right words, somehow struggling to respond, until I find my tongue again.

"I would love to, John." I agree, features lighting up as my mood brightens, "There's nothing I've really got to do today except train up one of the younger horses, so I've got as long as you want after that."

"Great. Is four o'clock alright?" The veteran smiles broadly, though he still looks somewhat nervous.

"Yeah, should be. I'll be there." I promise him, taking up my Stetson from the table as I briefly turn away to put away the plate I was using, having lost my appetite in my sudden excitement.

"I'll get it tidy." He says, looking around the room again, "I'll never understand why you have so many plants in your house. It's like a damn jungle."

At his comment, I laugh loudly, glancing around at the variety of different houseplants I have placed on various shelves, the greenery practically covering every available surface.

"Because it's way too dry to grow anything like this outside all the time. Anyway, they look nice." I shrug, calling Colt to my side as I follow John from the house, grabbing my jacket from the hook as I pass.

"But why so many?"

Once again, I shrug, following him over to a nearby post, where he's hitched Bandit, the horse I gave him a few months ago. The buckskin stallion paws at the ground, his pale coat looking as clean as ever even as he noses at the dust, the dark colouring around his eyes (the reason for his name) and legs standing out much more in the bright sun. As we approach, he looks up, snorting in greeting.

"He's looking good." I acknowledge, admiring the strong stallion appreciatively - I had reared Bandit from a foal, before I had given him to the veteran as a gift four months ago, hoping it will help him to grow his own ranch. My plan had worked, and John now has four horses, including Bandit, as well as a couple of other animals, such as a cow, a pig and five chickens. I'd sold him a couple of goats as well, but we soon found out that John and goats just didn't get along. At all.

"Yeah, he's doing well, too. Takes the training very well, too." John runs a hand through the stallion's dark mane, untying the reins.

"That's good. Reckon he'll be ready for a competition soon?"

"Should be."

Snorting again, Bandit pulls at the reins, clearly eager to get going, especially as Colt moves up to sniff at the horse's back legs. I quickly whistle him over, knowing Bandit has always been shifty around the dog.

"I'll see you at four then." I finally say, unwilling to say goodbye, even if it is only for a few hours.

"Yeah, see you then." John smiles, leaning in to kiss me again, keeping it brief this time, leaving me wishing for more, as he always does.

"See ya." I grin, watching him climb into the saddle, still somehow fluid in doing so despite his age.

Gathering the reins in hand, John adjusts himself in the saddle, before he smiles down at me again as he gently urges Bandit into motion. Obediently, the stallion moves into a swift trot, which turns into a faster canter as the two move off down the driveway, heading towards the split in the fence separating our land. I watch as they go, still finding myself enraptured by the sight of the muscular man sat astride the horse, Colt eventually snapping me from my mind as he barks at me. Shaking my head, I follow him towards the stable.

Hours later, having showered and cleaned up, I feel a sense of relief go through me as I hoist myself into the saddle secured into place on Leo's back. It's relaxing, the stallion beneath me more relaxed than the youngster I've been trying to train all day: she never gave me a break. Seemingly sensing this, as he always does, Leo flicks his ears back and nickers softly, very lightly pawing the ground as I give him a pat on the neck, glad to have a more reliable horse taking me where I need to be.

Tilting back my Stetson, I take the reins in hand and ease the stallion into a trot, intending to let him pick up his own pace, my trust in this horse far greater than in the mare from before. Obediently, Leo moves into the correct gait, the two of us moving as if as one, years of riding together having made it easy for us to become in tune with each other. Together, we start off down the road towards John's ranch, the new path we've created beaten and well-used, allowing for relatively easy riding. Leo's hooves pound the dry ground rhythmically, my hips moving in time with his every stride, the relaxing movement helping to calm the nerves that have sprung up inside me.

A part of me is still unconvinced about going into John's home. Yes, I had helped him rebuild it and had seen very little of the inside rooms, but it still feels as if I'm intruding upon the veteran's safe space, his reprieve from the cruelty of the world he lives in. Something about that doesn't sit right with me, but I tell myself it's John's decision to make, not mine, so I should trust him, which I do, wholeheartedly.

I'm still torn by the time I reach the main house, where John is already sat waiting for me in his rocking chair, dark eyes fixed on me as I approach. Lifting a hand to him, I smile and slow Leo to a halt, praising the horse as I climb down, the gray stallion nosing affectionately at me. Swiftly, I tie him to a nearby post, only to stop when John calls out to me.

"Put him in the stable for the night." He instructs me, gesturing for me to follow him as I try to fight back the sudden onslaught of racing thoughts at his implications: he wants me to stay the night?

"Sure, thanks." I smile back at him, walking after him with Leo in tow.

"Don't worry about it. It's not fair on him if he has to stay out all night." John waves me off with a short grin, "How'd training go?"

I groan.

"Not great. That horse has it in for me, I swear." I complain, rubbing at my arm, remembering the moment I got the new bruise forming there.

"Oh yeah?" He muses, looking amused.

"Yeah. She threw me off eight times!"

"Eight times? Wow, must be a new record." The veteran jokes, something that stirs up the familiar fondness inside me at his more personable behaviour.

"I reckon so. Painful one to set, though, I'll tell you." I remark, smiling broadly as we enter the stable, where I quickly house Leo next to Bandit, removing his tack and other gear.

"Must be." John watches me work, leaning against the door to the large building, muscular arms crossed over an equally muscular chest. Turning back to him, I have to stop and admire the bulging of his biceps as his hands grip his forearms, the veins I've come to love laying out a pattern on the tanned limbs. Everytime I see them, I imagine his strong arms wrapped around me, holding me safe and secure against his solid body, wishing I could feel his hands splayed against me more often.

"Like what you see?" John interrupts my thoughts, voice teasing as he lifts an eyebrow at me, almost smirking at me.

Blushing furiously, I avert my gaze, lifting a hand to gently tap the brim of my Stetson out of my vision.

"You know I do." I laugh nervously, before I look back up at him, "Anyway, since when do you use pickup lines?"

"Since I figured out they get you all flustered." His playful tone is new to me, though it's gone almost as soon as I see it, his guarded expression falling back into place as he returns within himself, probably thinking he overstepped some invisible boundary.

I still can't help stammering for a response, his gruff tone awakening something within me.

"Heh, I guess you're right." I stutter, going over to him.

Nodding, he keeps his expression straight, leading me out back to the house, where he quickly welcomes me inside.

"I tried to tidy it as much as possible, but it's still a bit messy." The veteran apologises, observing the interior of his home critically, even as I do so in awe.

The rooms, from what I can see, are mostly filled with sparse furniture, a few chairs here and there, an old sofa, a couple of vanities and dressers, with a mantlepiece in most, if not all, of them. He hasn't used much colour, but what he has used is tasteful and works well with the overall appearance. The walls, however, are what really draw me into the place.

They are littered with photographs and memorabilia, frames and objects cleaned and polished so they shine brightly in the afternoon sun, many smiling faces visible in them. Curious, I go over to one wall, looking over the array of pictures, which I now recognise to be images of John and his friends from the years he spent here. Amongst them is a creased black and white photo of a young John sat astride a horse not unlike Bandit, a broad grin on the boy's face as he stares at the camera from under a mop of thick black hair. I can feel a small smile creep onto my face at the sight of the veteran looking so happy and carefree, something I've not seen very much of at all in my time around him.

"That was my first horse, Hector. I had him until I left for the army." John says from behind me, sounding somewhat quiet, eyes softened from nostalgia as he stares at the picture along with me, "I loved him a lot, but my father always said he wasn't good enough."

His words hang in the air as I stay speechless, listening intently to what he's saying to me: it's the first I'm hearing about his life before he came here again.

"What happened to him? Hector, I mean." I ask him quietly, tearing my eyes away to look up at John.

The veteran shrugs, appearing somewhat remorseful.

"I'll never know, but I reckon my father sold him as soon as I was gone."

"Oh." I frown, glancing back at the photograph.

"The horse was getting old by that time, though. He probably wasn't much use." John chuckles wryly, moving away towards the stairs nearby, "Do you want to see upstairs?"

"Yeah, sure." I nod, following him as he ascends to the second floor, which I now see consists of three different rooms.

He takes me to the farthest, opening the door to reveal an old study, which looks as if it hasn't been used in a good few years.

"This was my father's study, where he did all his business. I was never allowed in here as a kid." John sweeps his arm around the room, staying by the threshold, as if abiding by a rule that no longer exists, "Not that I go in here that much as an adult."

I look around, finding the neat area interesting: images of a young John hovering by the door, waiting for his father to finish business entering my head.

"It's nice, I like it." I remark, turning to find him smiling very slightly at me.

"It's the only room in the house that's exactly as it used to be. I haven't had time to do up the others properly." John says, leaving the study and going back down the hall, where he opens the other two doors to reveal a bathroom and an empty room.

A dull curiosity flares up within me as I realise one thing about the top floor, but I easily find a solution to it, following John back down the stairs. As we go, however, I realise that my assumption is wrong, as the only other rooms down here are missing the one thing I'd expect in any house.

"Where do you sleep? I haven't seen a bed or anything anywhere." I ask him, cocking my head to the side as he takes me to one final door.

"I'm gonna show you." He smiles at me, before he opens the door.

I blink as I see the dark steps descending into the ground, unease biting at my throat as I flash John a hesitant look. A cool draft wafts up from the black depth, but John only chuckles and moves down into the space below, gesturing for me to follow.

"It's perfectly safe, don't worry." He calls to me, a light flickering on as he reaches the bottom of the steps, illuminating the path to me.

Swallowing, I gingerly step down the stairs, emerging into a tunnel of sorts, my curiosity piqued as I take in the chiselled walls around me, the rock cast in an odd light from the naked bulbs positioned along the length of the cavern. Struts of wood hold the ceiling steady, wiring hanging off of them in places where he's had to hastily put it all together. John watches as I take in the passage, a thoughtful look in place on his face.

"What is this place?" I wonder aloud, still taken aback by the oddity of having a tunnel beneath the house that stretches off in both directions.

"This is my safe space." The veteran informs me, urging me along with him as we go further into the tunnel, walking together for a minute before we emerge out into a larger room of sorts, which is well lit.

My eyes widen as I realise exactly what he means.

The room acts as his bedroom and bathroom, and also has space to sit and relax, the whole area having a homely feel to it. What was missing in the rooms in the house can be found down here, including more photographs, though these ones seem different to the others. They adorn the walls, all except one, which is decorated with a variety of weapons, both guns and knives. Going over to it, I look over the rifles and shotguns hooked onto the wall, struck speechless as I then turn my attention to a machete, the blade honed but chipped from use, seemingly out of place as it hangs beside another, smaller hunting knife.

Moving on, I regard the photographs, only now realising that they're military pictures, many of them containing images of a youthful John in fatigues and uniform. A smile creeps back onto my lips as I feel my eyes land on a particular image of a group of men, where I can see John standing amongst them, a triumphant grin on his face, long locks of dark hair held back by a strip of fabric around his head. The others also smile, though there's something bittersweet about the inscription at the corner of the photo: Baker Team, Vietnam. As I look past the other pictures, I notice that the team slowly dwindles, beaming faces becoming drawn and solemn, eventually just leaving two people behind. Beneath this image is another inscription: Baker Team Survivors.

"That was my team in 'Nam." John says suddenly, voice husky as he remembers the friends he had, "None of them made it back. Not really."

Eyes wide, I look back at him, taking in the distant look in his own eyes, the barely concealed grief still raw in his expression as he stares at the photographs. Noticing my gaze, John gestures for me to come sit on the edge of his bed with him, the veteran pulling another photograph from it's place on his bedside table. Doing so, I make sure I'm not touching him, but am close enough to reassure him, waiting patiently for him to start talking of his own accord, knowing that this is a sensitive subject for him.

After a moment, he starts, his voice low as he pulls me into his stories, taking me through suffocating jungles and blistering heats, through recon and rescue missions, through bloody gunfights and hellfire, through hours spent in torturous situations. He puts me in his shoes as he loses every single member of his team to the gruesome fight he should never have fought, the harrowing grief and pain of letting go of a comrade, someone who's supposed to be by your side for as long as the two of you can stay alive, laid bare for me to see and experience. And even as he moves on, back to familiar territory in the States, the fight never leaves him.

Facing harassment in what should be his safety and security, I can feel every bit of betrayal, of anger and grief that he felt as he is let down by his own country time after time, used again and again by the authorities to do their dirty work, only to be cast aside when it doesn't go their way, the old catchphrase he once lived by, "I've got your back, you've got mine" completely meaningless in this hollow life. His disgust in humanity is plain to me as he outlines his most recent forays into warfare, where the rage he felt is once again transferred to me, and I experience the violent need to take out the parasites in the world that destroy anything good that he did. It's as if I'm there with him, through everything, his description and memories so vivid they chill me to the core, keeping me hooked on his every word.

After a long while, he eventually trails off, and I realise there's a tear rolling down his cheek, his body shaking a little as he holds himself back. My heart breaking, I have to fight the urge to reach out and pull him into an embrace, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. I place my hand on his shoulder instead, rubbing the tight muscles soothingly until he looks up at me with the most heart-rending gaze I've ever seen in my life. At that point, my resolve breaks.

Carefully, I lean in and wrap my arms around his shoulders, pulling the veteran towards me. He goes willingly, sobs wracking his body as he wraps his own hands around me, burying his face into my neck, tears flowing freely now as he lets himself go, each pained sound agonising to hear. Tightening my grip, I lay back onto the bed, allowing him to press his body around me, holding me against his muscular form as I rub his back, whispering soothing things to him as his breathing starts to calm a little. It takes time, but eventually he starts to relax, body going limp as he lays in my arms, his larger form awkwardly wrapped around mine as he depresses his face into the crook of my neck.

I barely hear his broken voice as he whispers to me.

"Thank you."

Breathing in his familiar scent, I just mould myself closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead as he does the same to my neck.

"I'm here for you, John. I'm here, and I'll never leave. Not as long as I live, I promise."

#rambo x reader #rambo imagine #rambo #rambo 5 #rambo last blood #rambo 4 #sylvester Stallone #John Rambo x reader #John Rambo imagine #John Rambo

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forlornmelody · 4 years ago

Text

The Fantabulous Vacation of One Harley Quinn and Her Girlfriend Poison Ivy

Rating: T (suggestive themes, cartoon violence)

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: Poison Ivy/Harley Quinn

Linkage: Ao3

Summary: Harley's been burning the wick at both ends and Ivy knows just the thing to help. But it takes more than just a change of scenery to get Harley to let go.

Note: Commission for @rookie009

~*~*~*

“You’re probably wondering Mr---Watchman--”

“Tockman.” Mr. Watchman spits. “William Tockman.”

“Why I’ve brought you here today.”

Mr. Watchman rolls his eyes. “I imagine you’re going to tell me.”

“Ah! Good. You’ve stopped struggling. Progress, Mister!” Harley boops him on the nose. Maybe she made the binding too tight? “I’m not cutting off your circulation, am I?” She leans in close. “Are you comfortable? I need you comfortable.”

“I’m tied up in ropes, wench!”

“Ah, see! This is what I’m talking about!” Harley sits across from him and his fainting couch, pulling her pen from her bun and making a heading on her notepad. “You have a whore madonna complex.” Chewing her pen, she murmurs, “perhaps from the trauma of your wife’s death? Cystic Fibrosis, was it?”

Her new patient says nothing. “Mister?” Harley glances up. “Willy?”

“Help!” William Tockman dangles from his left ankle, suspended in air by a beefy vine. “She’s gonna kill me!”

“Oh please. You’re hardly worth the trouble.” Ivy steps around him and the vine, brushing the dust off her hands. “Hi Harls!” How she got the vines up this far on this abandoned apartment building, Harley has no idea. But it sure has a lot of brick to climb.

“Ivy!” Harley doesn’t so much as hug her as ram her at full speed.

Her target, used to such behavior by now, braces for impact and manages to hug back. Harley takes a big whiff. “Mm. Jasmine?”

“Lilacs.” Ivy peers over at Clock King. “You...uh, busy?”

“Mm yeah. A little tied up at the moment. Or he is, at least.”

“So I see.” Ivy chews her lip, staring out the window as if she had left a reminder there. She makes a face as the draft stirs some of the painting tarp discarded on the floor. “I was thinking maybe we could get out of town for a bit.”

“HELP.”

“Are you asking for help, Billy? Or do you prefer Willy?”

“HELP ME! THESE WOMEN ARE CRAZY.”

“Great!” Harley says brightly. “Admitting you need help is the first step towards healing!”

“Harls? Are you even listening?”

“You need help dismantling another CEO along with his company?”

“No.”

“Fundraiser for conservation efforts?”

“Harley--”

“Pride pre-game with Kitty?”

“Harleen.” That stops Harley short. Ivy never calls her that. Mostly cause she hates getting called Pamela with an undying passion. Probably childhood trauma. But Harley digresses.

Ivy sighs. “Sorry. Look. I need a vacation. We need a vacation.”

“I need help!”

“SHUT UP ALREADY.” Ivy and Harley say it together, and Ivy waves a hand, muffling Harley’s captive, er, patient with a particularly broad leaf.

“Mm... I’m a little busy--”

Ivy glances at Tockman, finally. “I can see that.”

“Lemme look at my calendar. Mmm.. maybe...next year? Definitely the one after that.”

“Harls.”

“I know, I know. But there’s my derby team, missions with Task Force X, the Birds of Prey, my day job--”

“I know.” Ivy takes her hands, gently, and squeezes them. It’s the softness that stops Harley in her tracks. “It’s why you need some time off.”

“But--”

“Shh. I already have plane tickets and a hotel booked. You don’t have to plan a thing.”

Harley can’t help the blush creeping up on her cheeks. “Aww, shucks, Ives. When are we leaving?”

“Now. The plane’s departing in--shit. We gotta go.”

“MMRPH.”

“Oh, right.” Ivy releases Clock King with a patented thud as she shoves Harley out the door. “Bye!”

-----

“So, we’re we goin’?” Harley pushes the arm rest out of the way and rests her chin on Ivy’s shoulder. She glances at Ivy’s phone as if it’ll give her some clues. She spots a sudoku puzzle. “Japan?”

“No.”

“The Amazon?”

“Nope.”

“Themyscyra?”

Ivy gives her a look. “Really?”

“Er….my mom’s? Please say it’s not my mom’s.”

“It’s not your mom’s.”

“Thank God.”

“Also, why would we fly to your mom’s house when we could easily drive? Or take a commuter bus?”

“Good point. Mm.”

Ivy smooths Harley’s hair out of her eyes. “It’s a surprise.” She snatches a quick kiss before the flight attendant rolls by. “You’ll love it.”

In this moment, Harley’s pretty sure she’d love anywhere as long Ivy’s there with her. She’s lit up by the light of the tiny window behind her, and her crimson locks glow like an angel’s. But Harley knows well enough that neither of them are anywhere close to innocent. “Say, how’d you get us past security?”

Ivy winks at her.

“No casualties?”

Her lover mockingly brushes her own chest like a scandalized church mouse. “I would never!” she snorts. “They’ll be fine. Just a little dazed and confused.”

Harley leans her head on Ivy’s shoulder. “I know the feelin’.” And really! Harley’s proud of her. Ivy’s never been one to follow rules or care for humans. But she tries for Harley. Why she bothers when Mistah J never seemed to care, Harley has no idea. But it means the world to her.

-----

The taxi drops them off in front of a large revolving door. But it’s not the gold handles that capture Harley’s attention.

It’s the lush plants growing from every nook and cranny on the place. Harley bets Ivy could spend an hour naming all of them (scientific names and personal names.) Butterflies and hummingbirds in every color of the rainbow--and the faint buzzing of bees. A solitary stream crosses their path, and a wooden bridge stretches over it. Garden terrace after garden terrace rise up from the ground to an open-air cafe at the top.

And behind the walls and the hotel proper? A waterpark.

Harley’s eyes go as big as saucers. “Ivy! You shouldn’t have!” She squeezes her into a hug.

“Thanks, sweet pea, but I can’t breathe.” Ivy manages to get out.

“Oof, sorry. Here ya go.” Harley releases her, and Ivy pecks her on the cheek.

“Best part is, they’ve a zero-carbon footprint and they’re waste free.” Harley rarely sees her grin so wide.”

“Whoa.”

“They call it The Greenhouse.”

-----

Their first day at the resort passes in a blur. Harley shows Ivy a good time in and out of their bedroom. They go snorkeling in the ocean, ride the rides so many times Harley ends up upchucking their picnic at the beach, then make love at sunset in their honeymoon suite. Harley wonders if the management thinks they’re--well, they’re as good as, aren’t they? They don’t need rings or a wedding or a place of their own or--

“Harley?”

She blinks. Ivy only calls her that when she’s worried. Harley realizes she’s been staring at the chocolates on their pillows for God knows how long. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Of course!” she says automatically, pulling Ivy into another kiss.

Ivy kisses back, then runs a finger down her cheek. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?” The setting sun makes her hair even redder, which Harley didn’t think possible, and Harley finds herself toying with her curls.

“Hey, I’ve been wonderin’.”

If Ivy notices the change in subject, she doesn’t mention it. “Yeah?”

“How come we haven’t seen any other guests? And how come we haven’t been arrested?”

“Oh! That.” Ivy waves a hand dismissively. “I rented out the whole resort.”

“With what money??”

Ivy shoots her a wicked look that sends shivers down Harley’s spine. “Ace Chemical’s investment fund.”

“Ooooh, you’re naughty.”

Harley dives in for another kiss but Ivy puts a finger to her lips. And doesn’t let her suck on it. Rude. “So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“Since we’ve got all this extra cash, wanna make a run at the casino? I hear they donate the proceeds to rainforest restoration.”

“Alright.” Ivy sighs and reaches for her dress. Harley has a sinking feeling that she’s going to bring this up later. Maybe if Harley’s lucky she’ll forget about it? Yeah. Ivy forgets things all the time.

“Last one there buys the first round!”

-----

Ivy and Harley sit across from each other, an immaculate brunch setting between them and two mimosas. Her lover’s plate sits almost empty, and while Harley’s lies largely untouched. She keeps playing with her veggie egg white omelet, but the next bite never seems to make it to her mouth. “And then we can go for a walk on the beach later! Have you seen those beds? Right there on the water? Mm. Do you think anyone would hear us if we--”

“Harley, wait.”

“Like, the sound of the waves would cover it up, right? Mm. Maybe not. I’m loud. Not as loud as--”

“Harley, no. Stop. Stop.” Ivy presses her hands on either side of Harley’s face, drawing her to a standstill and inches away from her. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to!”

Ivy gives her a sad smile, shaking her head gently. “You don’t have to impress me, Harls. I love you.”

Harley, in typical Harley fashion, vibrates with energy. “But…I want this to be special. As special as y--”

“This vacation already is special. Cause you’re here with me.”

“But--” I’m not that special, Harley wants to say. But she knows Ivy won’t let her get away with saying that out loud. She wants to crawl underneath the tablecloth and hide until Ivy leaves. They always leave in the end. Once they get what they want. Mistah J--

“I love you, Harley Quinn.” Ivy takes her hand, gently, rubbing her thumb over her knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And maybe. Maybe it’s that she doesn’t know what to do if Ivy stays. It’s easier to love someone who doesn’t love her back. It’s safe. Ahem. Emotionally safe, Dr. Quinzel says inside her head. For once, Harley has nothing to say. She’s too busy trying to keep the tears from falling.

“You don’t have to do anything. I already love you.” Ivy bites her lip--the way she always does when she’s thinking hard. Like how best to resurrect a drooping petunia or a rose bush that has a pest. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “And if it’s not too much--too early--to say this: I always will.”

“You proposin’ or somethin’?” The words tumble out of Harley’s mouth before she can stop them. Her cheeks feel like they’re blushing as bright as Ivy’s hair.

“I…” Ivy’s eyes widen. “I-I don’t have a ring on me.”

Shit. Fuck. ShitshitshitFuuuuuuuuuck. “I’msorryIdidn’tmeanit.” “It’s way too soon.” Harley puts on her best brave face--the same one she always put on when Bats showed up and Mistah J magically was nowhere to be found. “Marriage is so outda--”

“Harley.” Ivy puts her entire hand over her face. “Quinn.” “I never said I didn’t want to marry you.”

“Mmphwr?”

“Who wouldn’t want to marry Harley Quinn? You’re amazing.” She traces her eyebrows. “You’re the smartest person I know.” Boops her nose. “You’re impossible to kill. Holy fuck.” Runs her fingertip across her bottom lip. “You…” Ivy presses her lips together, looking down at the table. “You helped me love again when I hated everyone.”

“Pam.” Fuck, she’s getting misty eyed.

“I mean it. I was ready to wipe humanity off the map and start over.” She laughs a little, her voice rough as she wipes her cheek with the back of her hand. “But then you came along and nominated yourself my new shrink.”

“Don’t give me all the credit.” Wow, okay. Maybe she’s more than just misty-eyed. “You saved me too. From Mistah Jay. From Bats. From what woulda been a really boring life.”

Ivy’s smile slips slightly. “You’re not gonna die on me, are you Harls?”

Harley squeezes her hand. “Nah. You’re stuck with me.” Her words come out a little thick. “For richer or poorer.”

Her lover leans in close, capturing her lips in a warm kiss. “That’s usually pretty literal for you.”

“HEY.”

“It’s true! Guess I’ll have to see if Ace or maybe Lexcorp has any funds they won’t miss. I need to get that ring soon. Garnet? Spinel maybe?”

“Aww, shucks. How am I gonna be surprised now?”

Ivy scoffs. “If it’s a real surprise, it’s not a good time for a proposal.”

“But what if I want to be like those girls in those Tik Toks? Like where you propose to me but like I got my own box in my pocket?”

“Harley. A ring box wouldn’t fit in your tiny ass pockets, and you know it.”

“You know what would fit in my shorts?”

“Harleen Francis Quinzel.” Her laughter dissolves in a kiss and Harley pulls her back to their suite. They got a lot of planning to do. Though Harley has a pretty good feeling they’re not gonna get a whole lot of planning done today. But Harley’s okay with that. Pam’s always been the top of her to-do list anyway.

#harlivy #DC comics #poisonquinn #harley quinn #poison ivy #clock king #fluff isn't my usual so PLEASE tell me what you think #so sugary sweet you're gonna need to brush your teeth #melody writes #fluff

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theropoda · 3 years ago

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hi hi im really tired so i haven't answered your ask yet BUT 1, 8, 9, 11 and 12 for you + WHAT ARE YOUR IMPERA THOUGHTS MY DUDE!!!!!!!!

EH no worries, take your time!!!

under a read more bc i can never make these ask games short. i love rambling for 1 million paragraphs :)

1: You have a chance to interview Tobias Forge. What 3 questions would you ask him? ahhh man three questions is not enough, i need go crack this man's head like an egg and see all the stuff that spills out and study it under a microscope... but..

i suppose id ask him 1) what it's like to go on stage and get to pretend to be someone else, is it freeing? he's always struck me as a little aloof in interviews and generally in public so i wanna know if putting his actions and performance behind a character and costume makes him feel like he can do whatever he wants more, or if its a little restricting almost?

2) he's mentioned in interviews he'd draw a lot as a kid and im really curious as to what so id love to ask him about it. i want to see baby forge doodles :)

3) id want to ask him about what potential he thinks he has for the ghost universe. he's talked about a movie multiple times but i wanna ask what other mediums the storyline could fit into... a comic book, maybe??? a rhythm game even??

4) Favorite dinosa

8: Have you discovered anything new thanks to ghost, e. g. a band, or song, or film? many things but none of significance? like i haven't really gotten into any of the stuff ive found out through them Lol

9: Name three songs you would like Ghost to cover. other than judas by lady gaga idk 😭 i suppose people have covers they'd like to hear cause they hear a song and they can imagine int their head how it'd be like if ghost covered it, or bc they think the music is similar but iiii can't. like idk what would fit or be good. i suppose they could do maybe an early genesis song like the knife though? my head would also explode if they covered an early oingo boingo song... maybe islands or who do you want to be today. or insects... i NEED to hear tobias sing that now... best song lyrics EVER

11: Favorite Ghost meme. i cannot Possibly choose.. so many are incredibly funny

12: Favorite piece of Ghost merch you own or would like to own. I OWN NONE 💔💔💔💔💔 IM TRYING TO FIX THAT THOUGH, id fucking LOVE to have the coloring book!!! i love coloring books and itd make a good replacement for the last one i had, which swiftly leads us to.... The Problem... i have, Unfortunately Yet Fittingly, overly religious and superstitious parents who i don't think would ever let me have ghost merch bc of their satanic nature T_T in fact, said old coloring book was a "dark art" one with a bunch of skeletons and zombies on it but my dad took it away from me bc he said it was dangerous and was exacerbating my mental illnesses Lol <3 if i ever got the ghost coloring book id probably have to hide it in a goddamn fucking safe lmao

as for impera...ive been trying not to listen to impera TOO much cause i dont want myself to get sick of it (ive honestly gotten sick of cmls hearing it in all their promotional material all the time) so im a little slowly re listening to it... there's definitely favorites like twenties and darkness at the heart of my love, but i think this is gonna be one of those albums where im like... it's good, it's solid, i can recognize the artistry and mastery put into it and why some people consider it one of their best but im gonna settle for Yeah its okay. i like it, sounds good, pretty cool, but i don't LOVE it like i love, say, meliora or infestissumam. it doesn't quite have that impact... on me..

#asks #ratsalad #ghost #tysm for the ask!!! sorry its so long LOL

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ofieugogyshz · 4 years ago

Text

Fic;; Memories: Riolu IV

Word Count: 8900 officially over 9000 now

Summary: Sarah accepts Cynthia’s invitation to visit her in Celestic Town. On her second day there, she finds herself visiting Cynthia in her grandmother’s home, and, once again, facing an internal struggle that her Riolu, Lance, and Cynthia, were set on helping her with.

Warnings: Lots of bad mental health, self-depreciation spirals, abusive thoughts to self. Also some awkwardness. (But it gets better!)

Notes: This is the thing that’s just been. taunting and harassing me for weeks, and i am so done with it. i am so sorry that it’s like, 2x as long as the others. I really hope it’s worth it to you guys, because I am just so done with it. Edit: Fixed up some spots, and re-pasting it added paragraph indents, so ????

(Series Masterpost)

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

After helping me with my Riolu, Cynthia invited me to visit her in Celestic Town.

“I'll be there for a while, researching more myths.”

I told her yes, but when she offered to take me with her, I declined. I said that I wanted to walk the rest of the route to fulfill my Pokedex.

“Oh, you're working on a Pokedex? That sure takes me back...” She had a wistful look on her face. “I went on a big adventure with a Pokedex when I was younger.” I told her to share with me some of those stories when I met up with her in Celestic Town. She gave me her number, and we parted ways for the time being.

I spent the rest of that day and the next playing with my Riolu named Lance to make up for the issues we had ran into. Totally not connected to the Lance of fame. Yep. Definitely not. But it wasn't like I had that much of a choice. My friend, his father's trainer, had named him that for me as a cute little joke. I suppose I could have picked a name and told my friend to name it that. But I wanted to know what a Pokemon was like before I named it; and without the Pokemon in front of me, it was so hard to find an appropriate name. But watching Riolu-- little Lance fight our way up Route 210, I couldn't help but think that maybe my friend Blaze had the right idea in naming him after him. He was definitely strong and determined like his namesake, and showed plenty of care towards other Pokemon.

<<Can we call my namesake today? I wanna tell him how strong I got!!>>

I laughed. Now that I had accepted it, it was cute whenever he asked to talk to Lance. Lance—the human-- thankfully couldn't understand what the little Riolu was saying, but watching him entertain the notion was cute. Endearing. Enjoyable.

I looked at the time. Lance might be available now...? I had tried calling him earlier, but it went straight to voicemail. Probably working, I thought to myself.

“Let's try again after we get to the Pokemon Center in Celestic, so you guys can see each other with the videophones.”

And so we went through the rest of the route. It was a rather annoying route; there were many obstacles in our way, not including the fog that limited visibility. It took a few days to traverse the rest of the route by foot. I was able to train up my Pokemon a lot more than I expected. But even with the great training it provided, I was so relieved when I finally saw the rustic buildings nestled away in the mountain range. Even if it hadn't been Celestic, I would have been grateful just to stay a few nights away from the mess that was the foggy mountainside.

It was daytime when we arrived. I immediately looked for the Pokemon Center and checked in. When my Pokemon were returned, I let Lance out of his Pokeball.

“You know what, I think I'mma call you 'Little Lance', if that's alright with you? It's a little confusing talking to my friends about the both of you...” That was only partially a lie. I thought it might help distinguish them, yes, but I also still felt a little embarrassed calling him by that name... I was hoping a working towards a middle-ground might help.

Lance considered it for a moment, then shook his head.

<<Nope.>>

“Aw, but c'mon! It's super cute, calling you 'Little Lance'. Ooh! I could even call you 'Lil Lance'”

But he wouldn't budge.

“Ugh, fine then.”

<<Can we try calling Lance now?>> he asked, pointing to the videophones. I thought about it for a moment.

“I suppose so... It's almost time for our weekly call anyways.”

<<Yes!>> Lance curled up his fist and pulled it back in excitement. It was so cute to see him emulating a human gesture; he must've picked that up from me in the last week.

I picked up one of the receivers and dialed Lance's number. My heart was pounding, as it always did whenever I called him. Often I worried that I was being a bother. Things like, “Maybe I should call back later,” would plague my mind. But for some reason, I felt less nervous about it now. Maybe because Lance the Riolu was there, just as happy as I was to talk to him, that it made me feel less scared.

No answer still.

“Hmm... Weird.” The landline recording asked if I wanted to leave a message; I hung up. It wasn't that important to me to miss once. I had to let it not be important.

<<What's wrong?>>

“He isn't answering. Hope everything's alright. He's probably busy with other stuff right now.” I wonder if they officially made him Champion yet, or if they're still filling out the paperwork on that, I thought. He had mentioned that a few weeks ago; though that had little to do with him not answering. My thoughts were wandering far away on the topic, musing on what that conversation would be like when he told me that it was officialized. Lance tugged at my pants.

<<Can we visit Miss Cynthia then?>>

“Yeah, let me just see if she's available.” I pulled out the number she gave me, slowly typing it in. It rang once before being answered. There was no visual, so I found myself staring at a screen that just said “No Visual”, accompanied by the image of a Chatot.

“Hang—Hang on a moment.” Cynthia's voice sounded far away and strained, like she was just out of reach of her phone. The distant sound made me curious on how she had answered it, but I didn't have time to think about that, because she suddenly came in much louder and clearer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Cynthia? It's Sarah.”

“It is! I'm glad to hear from you! Are you nearby? I can go out and meet you if you want.” She sounded eager, excited. Had she been looking forward to this? I didn't think so. I was just a trainer she had met twice; and younger than her, I would later discover. Maybe the sound of her happy voice was because she just had a breakthrough with her research, and she couldn't wait to tell someone. I highly doubted she was excited to hear from me, after all. Not after the impression I gave last time.

Lance looked at me, his ears drooping a little as he examined me. Ah. Right. I shouldn't be thinking a thought like that. I guess that was something both Lances wanted me to work on.

“I'm already at the Pokemon center,” I told her. I scritched behind Lance's ears, making him feel better. It helped me, too. “I just got in.”

“Oh! That's perfect! I'll come get you.”

We hung up. She arrived in about fifteen minutes, brushing dust and dirt off of her coat as she arrived. Based on what I had seen of her in pictures and in person, I never would have imagined that she could look so disheveled.

“Where were you?” I asked. Lance and Pika both ran over to greet her.

“Oh, excavation. Have you learned about the Celestic Ruins yet? It's why I love coming back here so much! I can show you later, if you'd like.”

“N-no, that's fine for right now...”

We hadn't made any plans for the visit, so Cynthia gave me a short tour of the small town. In its center was a crater, and in the center of that crater was a small shrine. She told me that it dates back to ancient times; many of the town's residents still prayed to the deities and Pokemon they believed were tied to it. Behind the shrine was a cave; on each side of the cave's entrance were two large drawings, of what I presumed were ancient or mythological Pokemon. Beyond that, there was little of interest to passing trainers. The town was so small that it lacked a proper Pokemart. Instead, an old couple sold things from their home for any passing trainers that needed to restock between Mt. Coronet and their next destination. I wasn't sure if it was surprising or just interesting that the Champion considered this town her favorite.

For lunch, she took me to one of the few places to eat in the small town. While there wasn't much to catch Cynthia up on, I found myself excitedly telling her how Lance and I got along better since we last saw each other. She listened intently, speaking thoughtfully and giving me advice. I found myself asking her for a casual battle-- not one with her title on the line, but as between new friends.

“Very well then,” she said. “I should let you know-- I plan on going all out!”

“Couldn't ask for a better match myself!”

I sent out a Luxio and a Roselia, both Pokemon that I had caught here in Sinnoh. They were doing great at Gym Battles, and I figured the experience with a Champion might help them grow even stronger. Cynthia quirked an eyebrow, interested in the unspoken challenge of a doubles battle. She sent out a Garchomp and a Gastrodon. The double Earthquake duo had a huge advantage over Luxio; Roselia could handle Gastrodon, but that still left her Garchomp. As we battled, I did my best to keep my two Pokemon from fainting, but there was only so much they could do at their current strength. We both called back our Pokemon when the battle was over.

“That was a great match! The confidence in which you issued your commands allowed your Pokemon to trust you, and they responded well! I can't wait to have another battle with you when they've gotten stronger.”

“Tch...” Though she gave me high praise, the defeat still stung. “We should have another match with my aces.”

“Hmm. Perhaps another day... Don't forget that the key to growing as a trainer is to challenge yourself! Playing it safe is going to deprive yourself of new possibilities.”

She was right on both counts. One battle was enough for now. I had gotten a glimpse of what waited for me when I would challenge the Sinnoh Elite Four and its Champion, and I felt myself eager to train with my Pokemon for when that day would come. Beside me, Lance had looked on in awe, little tail wagging during the battle.

<<I want to battle too!>> he said to me. I knelt down to pat his head.

<<Maybe next time.>>

The next day, I headed over to where Cynthia was staying. We realized that we had a shared interest in mythology, so she invited me over to look at some of the texts that her and her grandmother kept. Pika followed behind me with Lance. I could hear the both of them talking happily amongst themselves, and I smiled. It was nice to hear him feeling like a member of the team again.

When I got to the address Cynthia gave me, an older woman answered the door. She adjusted her glasses, looking me up and down.

“Um, hi. I'm here because Cynthia invited me. This... is the right address, yes?” I looked at the address she had hastily scrawled down for me, and showed it to the woman. She didn't bother looking at it.

“That's correct. My granddaughter told me that she would be having a friend come over. Didn't think it'd be someone so young.” I winced. She motioned for me to come in, closing the door behind her. I took a look around. Stacks and stacks of paper were all over the living room, or what I thought was supposed to be one. Cynthia's grandmother followed my line of sight and sighed. “Pardon the mess. When we both really get into our research, it shows.”

“Ahaha, it's okay. Kind of reminds me of my room,” I said without thinking. Woops. Probably shouldn't've mentioned that. That wasn't a good impression, but hopefully it wouldn't mean something bad to them, if it came back up.

“In here.” Cynthia's grandmother had led me down the hall and stopped in front of one of the doors. “Cynthia's already in the library. She said she wanted to pull out some texts for you to read before you got here. Knowing her, she's probably already got a huge stack prepared for you. I'll be going out for a walk, so if you need anything, let Cynthia know.”

I was alone in the hall with my Pokemon. Lance and Pika stood on either side of me, looking up at me. I was a little nervous, and her grandmother's comment on my age left me feeling a little unsettled. Was she expecting someone older? How much older? I just realized that I don't even know how old Cynthia is! Is it really okay to call ourselves friends if she's much older than me? But I found the nerves paling in comparison to my excitement. I was excited to have someone else to call a friend; excited that the local Champion had called me a friend to her grandmother. But more importantly, I was excited to see the library that she had. All the books, all the texts, the myths and years of research that people had put into studying these things-- even if I was only interested in reading only the myths, being surrounded by so many books would be so exciting! Old books had that especially exciting aesthetic appeal to them, just thinking about it...

<<Are you okay?>> asked Lance. He tugged at my clothes, pulling me out of my reverie.

“Ah, yes. Thank you. Sorry, I got a little excited...”

<<You must really like books.>>

The comment made me smile. I took a deep breath and knocked loudly on the door.

“Come in!” I could hear Cynthia's faint response through the door. I turned the doorknob and pushed.

The sight of so many books greeted me. They were on the walls, stacked against shelving on the walls. Some stacks were so high that some of the desks and chairs were buried and hidden from view. Everywhere I turned was littered with books, folders, and handwritten notes.

“Sarah! I'm so glad to see you!” I could see Cynthia in the center of the room, holding a cup of tea. I could barely make out the sight of some fancy-looking seats centered around a coffee table in the middle of the room. I smiled, and closed the door behind me.

“Thanks for inviting me!” I said. I started walking towards her, my Pokemon carefully hopping from low bookstack to bookstack like the floor was lava. I began to talk excitedly, sentences running into each other as I couldn't wait to share what I had to say. “I'm so glad you asked me to come over, this is so amazing, and---L-Lance!!! W-w-what're y-you doing h-here?”

I stopped dead in my tracks, face flushing, unaware that there was going to be company. Much less company that I liked.

<<I'm sorry, was I not supposed to jump on the books?>> asked my Riolu. The sudden change in my reaction, the strange query mentioning his name, had left him confused. It took him a moment to realize what was going on with me. He looked to where I was stuck staring, as though I were stricken with a Glare attack and could not look away. I heard a happy yip from him, and he ran towards the red-headed trainer that was seated on the couch.

<<It's him!!! It's him!! My namesake!! We get to meet my namesake!!!>

“You must be the little Riolu that I've been talking to over the phone!” I heard Lance say. He caught the little Riolu, ruffling the top of his head. My Riolu looked up at him, starry-eyed, before turning back to me. I was still stricken to the spot. Cynthia came over to me, gently pushing me behind the back to lead me to a chair that was seated on the side, between both of theirs.

“Come on in! Don't be afraid to sit down with us!”

“I-I'm not!” I said quickly, the words out of my mouth before I realized what they were. I shut my mouth right then, glancing at Lance, before looking back at Cynthia. She gave no indication that this was intentional, but I had the underlying sense that it was... I was suddenly hyperaware of how I presented myself. I quickly placed my hands in my lap. I kept my legs together, though one foot would begin bouncing in place before I knew it.

Pika had heard the excited commotion and came over to me, peeking her head over a pile of books to look. When she saw who it was, she ran over and happily nuzzled Lance on the cheek.

I felt simultaneous embarrassment and envy of her at that moment. I could have cried. I wanted to cry.

Sensing the conflicting emotions, Lance-- the Riolu-- came over to me and climbed into my lap. He was emanating so much happiness from meeting Lance –the human-- that it started to put me at ease. I wrapped my arms around my Riolu, gently resting my chin on his head, wishing I could have fiddled with something instead.

I watched as Lance picked up my Pikachu and set her down on the couch, gently scritching her under the chin.

“And hello to you too, Pika! It's been awhile since we've seen each other, hasn't it friend?”

“Chu! Pika pikachu!!”

<<My namesake! My namesake!!!>>

This was going to give me a headache, if I didn't die from embarrassment first. I tried to suppress a groan, and looked to Cynthia once more, trying to get help from her. Any kind of help. But her attention was already towards Lance, ignoring my distress.

“I'm glad to see that you're such good friends with Sarah's Pokemon already.”

“I've met her Pikachu several times, both in and out of battle. The Riolu is new.” He turned towards me. “I hope he hasn't been giving you too much trouble?”

I sat up straight when he addressed me. “Hm?! Oh! Um, n-no, not recently,” I said, lying a little. But I could feel Riolu become a little angry with me for the lie. He didn't like me being dishonest, it seemed. “A-actually, Cynthia helped us with a, uh, misunderstanding about a week ago, so things are actually better than before!” I gave him a nervous smile.

“I see.”

“It was moving to see. Sarah really is passionate about her Pokemon.”

“Y-yeah, I am.” I turned towards Lance, asking him the same question that I asked earlier when I came in.

“W-what are you doing here, Lance? I thought you were busy, with, um. League stuff?”

“Cynthia invited me to come out. She said that she's found an ancient connection between Sinnoh and Johto, and asked if I was interested.”

“But aren't you supposed to be at the league right now?”

“Since we're still in the process of obtaining a new Elite Four member to replace me, the League's been closed. I normally have time off from the Pokemon G-Men when the League is open, so I haven't had as much to do for the time being.” He looked at me, a curious expression on his face. “Why, did you want me to be there?”

“W-what?! Uh, no, I guess? I think?” I didn't know if that was the right answer or not. This was making me so nervous, so on edge. I didn't know which way I should play into this. “I just thought that you wouldn't be able to come this far north, is all.” I looked away, cheeks flushing a little. “You never mentioned it in any of our e-mails or calls.”

“It was last minute,” Cynthia interrupted. I looked over at her; she had been watching the conversation. Her legs were crossed, one elbow propped up on a knee as she rested her chin on the back of her hand. She had an inscrutable smile on her face, but the body language told me all I needed to know. She definitely planned this. I felt my face grow hotter as I realized it, and all the implications that could mean. Riolu squeaked as my arms tightened around him.

Cynthia continued. “I had the breakthrough a few days ago, and I thought he'd be interested. I found some text that suggests that Sinnohans may have moved over to Johto, but the connecting thread mentions a cave that no one's been able to find in Johto. Not yet, anyways.”

“She thought that I might like to try and find it.”

“Ah.... I see...”

“Oh! Before I forget, these are some of the books I wanted to show you, Sarah.” Cynthia got up to grab a small handful of books. She placed a few of them on the table in front of me; I was so apprehensive of the situation now that I couldn't even glance at their titles. My Riolu looked at the books curiously. “You might enjoy familiarizing yourself with Sinnoh's myths and traditions. It's a region that's full of beauty and history!”

She handed Lance the other books she held. I watched as she spoke so passionately to him about the ruins that she had found mentioned in her texts. I found myself a little jealous. Cynthia was a beautiful, confident, and an amazing trainer. She had no problems talking to Lance and keeping him invested in a conversation. And I could barely talk to him without becoming extremely flustered, stuttering and stumbling over my words, uncertain of which ones to say at all. I wanted to say all of them, in all the ways and combinations, until I could find the best ones to say to him. But with that desire to talk to him came the same conflict of being noticed, of being watched, of being paid attention to. As much as I wanted it, I didn't want it; because if he saw me, then he was watching me. And if he was watching me, then that meant that I could be judged one way or the other over something I did. Something I said. The way I looked, the look I gave off. I didn't want him to think less of me because of that. Cynthia, on the other hand, didn't seem to care about the mess that her library was in. She knew who she was and confident that it was more than enough to be liked, to be respected. I yearned to have that kind of confidence, that fearlessness. But I had to be liked. I had to be well-liked. I couldn't stand letting someone think worse of me for an accident or lack of attention or knowledge.

So I sat there, quietly watching the two of them as they became more invested in their conversation, until I thought myself forgotten about. The things they spoke about were beyond my current knowledge, and I, for once, could not interrupt. The two of them got up to look at something else in the library, ancient maps I think. I sunk into my seat, letting out a long sigh. Riolu looked up at me from where he sat in my lap, confused and concerned.

<<What are you feeling right now? I know the confusion.>>

Jealousy, I thought back. I was jealous of her. Not to a bitter extent, but... She probably could have-- I couldn't finish the thought, the mere idea of it making me hurt. I wanted to cry. Riolu turned around to press his forehead against mine.

<<I don't understand your feelings, but I do know that you're in pain right now. I hope you can feel better.>>

“Thanks.”

I watched as Cynthia helped Lance find reference materials for the Sinjoh ruins that she talked about. He hadn't heard of it before, and Cynthia speculated it was somewhere far north of his hometown. Lance placed a hand on his chin as he thought, looking carefully at the maps she had on the wall and the documents she showed him. It looked natural, seeing them together. Perhaps if I was in a better place emotionally, I could have enjoyed watching him in a different element.

The two of them seemed to flow well together, I found myself thinking as I observed them. I didn't want to, but it came unbidden. They looked good together. People probably think... nicer things about the two of them together than if it were me with him. I was not pretty. Today, I didn't feel smart enough to even join in their conversation, though I obviously could have picked up the information. I couldn't deny that, and so, the argument inside my head began.

My thoughts struggled between telling me I was worthless as a trainer and proving all of it wrong. I was good at Pokemon battles, and I had defeated the Champions from Kanto and Hoenn, but I didn't choose to take that role of responsibility that came with being Champion. It wasn't something I could do. It required a lot of work, and I wouldn't have been free to continue on my own journey. On the other hand, it wasn't impressive to not take up the position. That was the only thing I was confident about. All those achievements didn't mean that I'd be interesting to someone. Someone that I struggled to initiate a conversation with, and sometimes procrastinated replying to text or email messages to, and thought for hours on a reply, just because I didn't want to worry about him thinking awful of me. But...

My eyes roved over to where the two of them talked. I felt something awful in the pit of my stomach. A pang of jealously.

I wish I could be like her.

Anyone but myself.

Ugh. I hated these thoughts. But once they started, they wouldn't stop coming.

If he got with me, it would be such a joke. The media would have a field day. And why would he even get with me? Because I have a one-sided crush? That's bullshit. Plus, she can talk to him about things, and hold a conversation, and, damn, even get him to travel to another region for just a myth that she thought he might be interested in? I can't even do that. I mean, I never asked him, but why would I? I know he won't show, even if he didn't have all those responsibilities. And I'm strong as a trainer, but I'm not as experienced as her. I can't even accept that my own selfish feelings might be hurting my Pokemon. I thought I knew a lot, but it's just as much hot air as Eusine. And then there's just... UGH. Expecting someone to get with me, looking like this? A Milktank, no a Snorlax-- wait what was that cat they have here? Purugly. I'm so ugly, so awful--

<<Sarah?>>

It was a sound like a cold drop of water. The burning, burdening chaotic swirl of thoughts stopped, for just a moment. Riolu's thought was like a cool, soothing balm. I opened my eyes. I hadn't even realized that I had them shut, tears welling up in the corner. He touched his forehead to mine. After a few moments, I felt a calming wave of energy sweep through my body, relaxing all the muscles that had tensed.

<<Better?>> he asked, thoughts full of concern.

Yeah, I thought back. I hugged him tight, closing my eyes again. That helped a bit. Thanks.

<<Good. Because you got Miss Cynthia's attention.>>

That made me jump. I opened my eyes again to see her standing nearby, a gentle smile on her face.

"Are you doing okay, Sarah?" she asked me quietly.

"Uhm.. Mm… y-yeah. I-I'm okay now."

"That's good. I'd hate for you to feel awful while we're all here." She gently ran her hand along the back of my head, and rested it on my shoulder. "Please, have some tea. Or, if you'd like, there are more beverages in the kitchen. I could get you something to drink.”

I looked at her, then looked over to where Lance was, still invested in the scrolls.

"Uh, um. No, I'm okay. I have water in my bag. Thank you."

It was strange. She had such a caring aura about her that I wanted to break down and cry to her. To let her know about everything that was upsetting me, including how I was both jealous of her, and that I admired her. That I hated my conflicting feelings. That I lacked the courage I would otherwise have, when it came to Lance. I wanted to ask her for advice, but I hated the idea of needing to seek it. Knowing that she showed so much care to me, a trainer she had only met a few times, was enough to make me want to break down.

But my Riolu, Lance, continued to emanate calm energy, keeping me from reacting in a way that I would have hated. He didn't understand it, but he understood enough to know that keeping me calm was what I needed most at the moment. Crying was one of the last things that I had wanted to do.

<<Thank you, Lance.>> I thought to my Riolu. I'd have to remember to give him a good treat later on.

"Do you want to step outside for a bit?" Cynthia asked me suddenly.

I blinked. I looked up at her, confused. Was she… Trying to get me to leave the room? But… did that maybe mean….

As though reading my thoughts, she quickly added, "I could give you a tour of the house. Though, I suppose we should avoid my room, it is a bit messy from all the paperwork…."

"I, uh…"

"Great!” She turned her head, calling out over her should, “Lance, we'll be back in a bit. If you're interested, there's some books I found on the Johto region, pre-dating the Tin and Brass Towers in that corner over there."

She got me to take off my bag and come with her. Riolu followed, though he didn't have much choice as my emotional support Pokemon at the moment. Pika stayed behind; she was enjoying the small snacks that Cynthia had left out. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at her.

Cynthia gently guided me towards the back of the house. And by gently, I meant that she gently pushed me towards the back, ignoring all confused protests with cheerful replies. She led me outside, to where there was a wide, empty dirt yard. She let out her Lucario, much to the joy of my own Riolu, who now squirmed in my arms so he could say hello to his newfound hero.

"Gahhh… I'm sorry about all this. I should have thought more carefully about it or let you know that he was coming over."

"Wait, so it was planned?" I said, turning around on her. I didn't know if I should have been more angry or shocked that she knew all along about my feelings towards that Lance, and still let this happened. “Or at least the him coming over part…?"

Cynthia leaned against the banister of the porch. She didn't say anything for a moment, as though she was trying to carefully word her thoughts. I waited, trying not to be angry, trying not to be embarrassed.

"I thought it might help," she finally said.

My emotions decided: I was angry, mad at her, though I couldn't put into words why. But…. I believed her. She really was trying to help me. I could feel it. And as I stared angrily at her, I felt my conviction weaken. Her Lucario stood nearby, palms out; he was using his aura powers to connect our spirits so we could better understand one another.

"...You're really scared about this," she said with a mixture of pity and understanding. “And you're right to feel angry; I should have asked or talked to you about this beforehand.” She slapped her forehead, muttering a simple idiot to herself.

"Y-yeah. Yeah, I really am. Both angry and scared. Because I already did this once, like an idiot, and erroneously assumed that that's what you do to like people. That you just... Decide to. And then you tell them that you want to date them and then you become boyfriend and girlfriend or whatever and it all goes uphill from there. But it didn't. And I'm lucky at all that he still let me get to know him after that. But I guess not enough, if I didn't know that he was coming here..."

Cynthia paused, giving a thoughtful hum. Then, she said in a hopeful tone, "Well, what if he wanted to surprise you? When was the last time you guys got to see each other in person?"

Her questions gave me pause to think. I never considered that, but I also didn't think I was important enough for something like that. Like he'd come all the way out here just to surprise me, when my Pokemon journey meant that I could be anywhere between a city and a route, even stuck somewhere. Sure, I normally tell him where I was heading or planning to go; but there wasn't a guarantee that I would have been here. Or anywhere. Planning a visit was one thing, but a surprise one....?

"C-c'mon now…" I looked away from her, eyes searching ground for things to say. Burnt orange dirt greeted me as an answer. A single rock, a couple of weeds, more dirt. Nothing useful that could be said. “There's no way that he'd... wanna... I mean, I'm not someone important. I'm just a stupid, annoying teen, annoying some guy that I kn--” I stopped, horrified. “Oh Arceus, I should be leaving him alone, shouldn't I?! I bet I seem like some crazy stalker fangirl and-- ugh. Damnit, Sarah, how could you be so stupid!? You're bugging him so much--"

I was cut off as an unlikely hand-chop came down on my head, causing me more surprise than pain. Doink.

"Owwwowowowowow." I clutched at my head, tears curling up in the corners of my eyes from the pain. I looked up at Cynthia, whose hand was still vertical and poised to chop me on the head again. “What'd'you do that for!?”

“What about all those calls?” Her voice was stern.

"Courtesy. He's just doing them out of courtesy, or to be nice, or because I seem crazy enough that if he doesn't he's worried I might--"

Doink.

Another hand-chop to the head.

I rubbed the top of my head, tears welling up in frustration now.

“You need to stop the negative thinking! He wouldn't take the time out of his busy schedule to do all that just because you annoyed him, Sarah. Trust me; I've had my fair share of crazy fans, and I wouldn't let any of them near me like I've let you. I'm not saying this to get your hopes up, but it's clear that he think you're someone worth keeping near. For people like us, where we're constantly being hounded by media and trainers looking for personal gain and not much else, that's a lot. We have our own lives; but it's hard to let people in them. And with the frequency of those calls that you guys have--”

“E-EH?! W-w-wait, y-you know... a-ab-about.... th-those!?” The way she had so casually said it this time had caught me off guard. I don't know why I hadn't froze up at the first mention of the calls mere minute ago.

“Lance told me.” At the sudden deep blush that set across my face, she clarified. “Your Riolu, I mean. ...I see now why the name might have been difficult for you.”

“Oh.” I still felt alarmed, but I relaxed a little. That meant he wasn't sharing stuff like that with other people. Not that I wanted him to. I didn't want to think about what it meant if he was sharing that to someone else, especially not with Cynthia.

“I apologize, for not telling you that he was coming over. You were so afraid and scared to say Lance's name,” she said, nodding towards my Riolu, “that I thought having you come over while he was here might have helped. I didn't let you know because I thought that you might run away... And I thought that you might appreciate the surprise of getting to see him again, in person.”

“I--” I stopped to think about it. She was right; I would have thought about running away. But I realized that, despite all the fluster and frustration and everything else that just happened, it was nice to see him again, in person. I hadn't gotten to see him in person very often the last few years; part of that happily avoiding the awkwardness awarded to me by my thirteen-year-old self, while also us having our own, vastly different paths in life at the time. But, even with the information that Cynthia had now shared with me, I thought that maybe I should keep my distance from him. To leave him alone, and not bug him like I usually did. To not repeat the mistakes of the past. To make sure that I didn't do that.

I really wished I could have been better about that.

“You do like getting to see him again, right?” Cynthia asked me, noticing that my thoughts had started to spiral again. I felt myself flush right up, stammering out a reply.

"I-I… I'mma… Y-you're n-n-not… wr-wrong about… about that…." I crossed my arms, looking away for a moment so I wouldn't have to face the consequences of admitting it.

Cynthia laughed. "Who knows. Maybe this might help you get closer to him, so you're not always stuttering!"

"I'M NOT STUTTERING!!!" I shouted at her, face red. “I just…. Fumble… and stumble… over my, uh, words………."

"Can you even refer to him by name?" she asked, sounding concerned for a moment.

"Err, um… that is to say…. Uh…." I hung my head. "N-no… n-not r-really."

"Why do you think that is?"

"Um…." I paused to think. Why do I have trouble using his name? ...ah. That's why. I looked down, and I picked at the sleeve of my shirt. I didn't want to say the words.

"Because I don't think I'm worthy of saying it."

There was a solemn moment between the two of us. Putting it into words made it feel so surreal. It made no sense to think that way, or feel that way. After all, I was a human. I was a damn Champion; I've beaten his ass at Pokemon battles more times than it was worth, when I was much younger. So then, why did that not mean something? Why was I venerating a name that anyone could have? Even my own Pokemon had suffered because of those feelings.

Then, as I was contemplating the absurdity of it, Cynthia started laughing, wiping tears from her eyes as she approached me.

"Wh-WHAT?!" I shouted, embarrassed and confused. "I REALLY DO THINK- er, feel… That way… I guess."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for laughing. But just… The way you said it--"

"Ugh! Why did I even come out here with you?! I should have just gone off and trained!" I turned away, crossing my arms angrily. She came up and gave me a consoling hug.

"You really shouldn't feel that way about yourself," she said quietly. "Regardless of whether or not you're in love. It's not good to hate yourself like that. You are worth so much, and I see so much potential in you, both as a trainer and as a person. Don't give up on your dreams, because someone told you to feel this way once."

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to will myself not to cry.

“W-what if...” It was a struggle to get the words out. “Wh-what.. i-if.... it w-was... m-m-more... se...several... people?”

“Not even then. Their lies are not what's true about you.”

Her words and compassion had finally gotten me to cry. Feelings that I kept pushed down inside myself burst forth. I turned around and pressed my face against her, trying to hide it, but so painfully aware in some part of my brain that it would result in some snot on her coat. It was embarrassing. But she didn't show anything other than kindness as I broke down. She soothed me with comforting words and hushes, gently rubbing my back. When I had finally stopped, spent of the emotions that I had kept bottled up, she recalled her Lucario and guided me back inside. We stopped in the kitchen for a moment; Cynthia suggested that I get something to drink before returning to the library.

Riolu had followed behind us, watching everything with quiet awe. I could feel that he had a query for me, but he couldn't quite formulate it clearly. And even if he had, I wasn't sure that I could answer him.

“Lance,” Cynthia called out sweetly to my Riolu. “Do you understand what just happened here?”

He shook his head, mouth slightly open.

“Ri.”

“Sometimes, when things hurt for us, we try to hide it. But if we keep doing that, then it gets to be too much to hold back. Sometimes you have to let yourself cry. Or scream. Or whatever it is that your emotions are making you feel. Sarah seems to be especially fond of holding them back. I can't say she's particularly good at hiding them, though.”

“Thanks, Cynthia,” I said wryly, face heating up as I took another drink. It was embarrassing having her explain things to my Pokemon, because it also felt like she was trying to wink-wink-nudge-nudge me about how to solve my own emotional issues. I should have been more than capable of doing that myself, without the explanation from someone else. She continued.

“So if you feel like she's ever in need of letting out her feelings, you might need to pull her aside and get her to open up to you. It might not be as easy as it was today. Sometimes, in order to protect herself from her feelings, she might fight you on it. But you'll have to be patient and wait her out, letting her know that you're there for her.”

“Ri...”

Riolu jumped up to hug me, startling me for a moment.

<<I promise to help take care of you!>> His feeling was sincere. The energy behind it, the strength of his feelings, almost made me cry again. I shook my head, trying to focus elsewhere.

When I calmed down, we walked back to the room. I was staring at the door again, mentally preparing myself once more to enter. The calm that I had gained was slowly giving way once more to nervousness. I found myself worrying that it would show all over my face that I had an emotional meltdown. (Cynthia told me it didn't look like I had been crying, but I wasn't convinced.) I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down while it felt like every fiber of my being was racing. My skin felt like ants were crawling all over it. I rubbed one of my arms and took a final deep breath.

Cynthia smiled at me.

“You ready?”

“Y-yeah. I'll be fine.” I picked up my Riolu, hugging him tightly. “I've got this Lance with me to help keep me calm.”

“Ri!” His tail wagged.

“We're back!” Cynthia called out when we entered. I could see Lance's tuft of red hair over by the table that we had been seated at earlier.

“Welcome back!” he replied. We walked over to him, and I could see Pika curled up beside his lap, taking a nap. I instantly felt envious of her. To just so casually....! Lance noticed that I was looking at her, and gave a small laugh.

“I came over to read some of the books, when I noticed that Pika had been left behind. I thought it was odd, but she didn't seem to be bothered by being separated from you. In fact, she curled right up next to me and fell asleep.”

I blushed. My Riolu looked up at me.

<<She felt confident that I could help,>> he said. <<I'm not sure why that is. Miss Cynthia was the one to help you the most! I think she just wanted to eat the cookies without sharing...>>

I frowned when he told me that. I put him down and picked up Pika, sitting down on the couch as I did so. I held her up, away from me, waiting for her to wake up.

Pika gave a sleepy little yawn. She squeaked when she saw me staring at her with an unamused expression. She squirmed, giggling as she tried to get out of my grip. I let go of her with a short sigh, and she fell into my lap. With a carefree attitude, she climbed back up the couch to sit on my shoulder, nuzzling me. She was definitely trying to be trouble.

“Honestly...”

“Is everything okay? It's not often that I don't see her without you.”

I jumped up for a second, forgetting that he was there. I tensed up, and feigned ignorance. “Hm? Oh, uh, Riolu said that she wanted to eat all the cookies and not share.” I gave him a nervous smile. “Some days, y'know?” I had no idea what I was trying to get at, honestly. But I hoped it was enough of an answer to avoid any future questions.

Now that I was no longer giving my Pokemon a condescending stare, knowing what her real motive was, I realized that I had sat next to him. On the same couch. I felt my face heat up and I slowly started to scoot away. Ah, but that's too obvious. Ah, quick! I patted the space next to me, motioning for Riolu to come sit there. He tilted his head at me, but obliged, climbing onto the couch. I scooted over more so he could sit between us; Lance raised an eyebrow at me.

“Ah, I forgot to mention it earlier, but Riolu's really excited to meet you!” I gave him a nervous laugh, and fumbled around for a further explanation. “Though I guess that much was obvious earlier... Ahaha... I thought, um. Well, uh... I don't really know how else to explain it, so just! Accept that he wanted to sit next to you!!”

Smooth.

As if picking up on the cue, Riolu turned towards Lance and wagged his tail. It wasn't disingenuous, as he really was excited to meet his namesake.

<<Hi, I'm Lance! I was named after you!!>> He stood up on the couch and held out his paw to Lance.

Panic coursed through me. My face instantly turned red and I grabbed Riolu. I pulled him away, hand over his mouth while trying to resist the urge to grumble something into his ear.

“What... did he say?” Lance sounded concerned, but I could hear muffled laughter from Cynthia, seated across from us. I had forgotten about her, but now wasn't the time to deal with her.

“O-Oh! Uhhh...ummm... y-y'know... how some.. Pokemon, just... say.... silly....things? To, um, their heroes?” I winced, feeling like the lie wasn't much better. My Pokemon wasn't satisfied with it either, and frowned. I could feel the dissatisfaction, right there, in my arms.

“I can't say that I know... Seeing as I haven't had any Pokemon talk to me in the same way that Riolu seems to with you.”

“Oh!” I let him go, and Riolu crossed his arms, pouting. “That's, um...” That's great! I wanted to say, but I knew that it was a very enviable thing to be able to understand Pokemon clearly. In specific words.

“That's, err, too bad, I think?” I relaxed, relieved that my Riolu hadn't somehow instantly been able to connect to and bond with Lance like he had with me. “I mean, it sucks, when they um, just have a lot of cool things they want to say to you! He thinks you're really cool!”

“And what else does Riolu think,” Cynthia said from the sidelines. I gave her a sharp look, and she stifled her laughter.

“Okay, I don't know what Cynthia thinks is so funny, but he really does look up to you!” I said, finally giving a genuine statement. “He's wanted to meet you for awhile now. And, it's, uh, it is nice to see you outside the league, for once. And not because of work!” I added, remembering that one time I had run into him. He was on a mission with the Pokemon G-Men, and somehow the events of that created this... issue. “I was just, um, surprised earlier to see you anywhere but Kanto or Johto, really. So I'm sorry if it seemed like I was being rude.”

Lance seemed to be confused by what I was saying, and I rolled my eyes and shook my head, frustrated at myself.

“Nevermind. Sorry if that didn't make any sense.”

He gave me a strange look, perhaps because my own words were strange enough without all the context on my end.

“I accept your apology, though I'm not really sure what it's for.”

“Um, 'cuz I thought maybe it seemed like I didn't want you here?”

“It didn't seem that way to me.”

I paused, trying not to overthink on what he just said. “I—oh, um. Good.” I nodded, trying to sound certain of myself.

An awkward silence followed, but it was shortly interrupted by Cynthia.

“Sarah,” she turned to me. “Where is your next badge located?”

Bless her for changing the subject to something less nerve-wracking. Riolu perked up at the mention of the Gym Challenge, and uncrossed his arms. I looked up at nothing in particular, trying to recall where I was told to go next. It was on the west side of Sinnoh, somewhere closer to Twinleaf Town than this side of Mt. Coronet.

“Umm... I think the city's called Canalave?”

“Then you should definitely make sure to train up your Riolu!” Cynthia looked excited, eyes brimming with energy and the teasing forgotten. “The Gym Leader is Byron; he's a steel-type user. Would you like to stay for awhile and train with me?”

I blinked. The offer was extremely honoring, and I couldn't figure out a reason to say no. “Sure, I'd love to! Thank you very much Cynthia.” I looked down towards the little Pokemon beside me. My Riolu jumped up, looking starry-eyed at Cynthia, tail wagging excitedly. “I'm sure Riolu would love it too, if he got to train with your Lucario!”

“Of course. I'd be more than happy for them to train together!”

“Would it be okay if I joined the two of you for your training?” Lance asked suddenly.

I felt myself freeze. I was not expecting that. I looked at him, scrutinizing him. Was there a joke in this? A prank? I was suddenly suspicious, wondering if somehow he and Cynthia were in on something. But if they were planning something like this all along, I couldn't tell; not from him. I quickly looked towards Cynthia, who clasped her hands together, smiling.

“That would be great! Incidentally, how long are you planning to stay in Sinnoh?”

“I've got a few days before I need to head to Blackthorn City.”

“Excellent! Then it's settled. We'll all train together!”

So maybe it wasn't planned. That didn't stop Cynthia from flashing me a devious smile right after. I couldn't help but feel apprehensive that she had something else up her long, black sleeves.

“That reminds me!” She pulled out a poster from under one of the books, and showed it to us. It had a drawing of a starry night sky, with what looked like shooting stars falling across it. Under that was the shrine, and the area around it was decorated.

“We're having a festival in a few days. Because we're away from any of the larger cities, the night sky is really clear. It makes it easy for us to see a meteor shower that happens once a year. It's one of the few things that draws visitors to Celestic Town, giving them revenue. The both of you should go! I'll be busy helping the town run it, so I won't be able to show you guys around, but I think you'll have plenty of fun exploring it without me!”

I felt my insides go hollow, instantly recognizing what Cynthia was doing. She was setting up an opportunity... for... a... I couldn't finish the thought, too frazzled to think it. I could only hope that, between the blanched feeling I was having and the inevitable blush that was to follow, my complexion looked relatively normal. Because I wanted to scream. And run away. And never come back.

Cynthia just gave me that, sweet, innocent, inscrutable smile, now decipherable, as a little nudge forward. She knew exactly what she was doing, and I hated that I wanted to thank her for it, too.

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aprito · 4 years ago

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hello <3 since i got these asks at the same time i decided to combine my thoughts on them in this post. yet another annoying sjw essay from yours truly on this blog

before i get into these i think i need to preface why im like. i guess overly hyperfocused on a certain unproblematic base (same age au / platonic canon) for them and avoid the ped0philic content like the plague lol

tw for pedophilia ment, rape ment if that makes you squicky. ALSO THIS IS LONG AND RAMBLY

as i’ve mentioned a couple times already, ive been into the ship since i was 12, back when it was very very common to not only post untagged (nsfw) canonverse content of the two in writing and in drawing but also non con and the like, so you can imagine how bad my first impression online was. thinking back on it ...as a child i found it disturbing but didnt really register how problematic it really was?? (i know, but i also lived in the middle of nowhere and had no one explain this to me)

skip to 2014 aka me coming back to naruto at 17ish and i had kinda become hyper aware of the fact that there was an increasing amount of people online who had come forward with explaining how fictional problematic content, mostly pedophilia, had been used to groom them into starting relationships with adullts. it was also a time where a lot of people didnt believe these victims, not registering how common it was for minors to be online friends with adults who had no boundaries and no qualms exposing them such content. not gonna get into my personal life here but i was lucky to not having gone through this myself. like... it kinda was my first time truly realising how fiction can EASILY be used to manipulate others irl (and yes i will not argue this, if you dont think fictional media can form and manipulate people’s opinions on attitudes, countries, cultures and virtues, pick up a book about the effects of propaganda media at least once please)

i, being young, still liking the dynamic but not really the romance, would point this out here and there in the fandom and get into fights with grown adults in their mid 20s who assumed i automatically hated the ship(s) and tried to restrict their freedom of speech or whatever, heard everything from the “age of consent doesnt exist in naruto” to the “sasori looks like a child what does it matter” despite people clearly playing on him being older and experienced. it made me so upset that people were just consuming all this content uncritically and exposing children to it tbh?? not really just sos but a lot of minor/adult ships in naruto in general. and thats where i sat down and thought, i do not want to be a grown adult talking down to children that point out how unsafe the fandom is. theyre absolutely right in drawing these boundaries and calling out adults who defend the uncritical consumption and creation of this content. i do not want to consume or create content that predators could use to groom minors, and i absolutely do want to let younger people in fandom know that i am respecting their comfort zones and want them to have a safe and fun experience. after all, naruto is not an adult show and i think a lot of people forget that!!!! i am not perfect in that regard but its something that i, at the age of 23, am very passionate about and strive towards to.

and i guess thats where same age au was born for me and i have been sticking to it ever since.

so finally we can move to the first question

aside from the fact that we both dont like canon sos, i dont think it would work out even if i wasnt prejudiced to it anyways. in all honesty, 35 year old canon sasori is not a redeemable character to me, given the fact that he’s easily amongst the cruelest villains in naruto (torturing and killing and taxiderming people for his own fun personal gain, never for a goal that served anyone but himself. how do you redeem having over 300 corpses in your backpack that you felt absolutely no remorse for killing). sasori was legit one of the only cruel villains that didnt had someone else pull the strings, which sends a clear message on kishi’s part, who absolutely loves to redeem villains LOL.

being that old, he obviously had already been very manifested in what he believed in, even if it was shakey, to the point where the first crack in that world view (sakura and chiyo protecting each other) immediately had him give up on his life all together. that, in my opinion, is not a man who’s going to know what healthy relationships would look like, regardless of it being romantic or not. 35 year old sasori to me has the same appeal as an expired can of tuna and he’s probably very happy 6 feet under. he’s supposed to be a failed gaara in that sense that he had no one to look out for him and therefore was never going to experience anything but a bad ending in life. its fine that hes dead honestly, it wraps up his short character development the best IMO.

adding to that, seriously, sakura was obviously interested in knowing why he was that way, and called him out for being seriously fucked in the head, but it’s weird to me that people assume she had any interest in actively rehabilitating him, let alone starting a serious romantic relationship with him. sakura who’s not only very, uhm, immature and straight forward when it comes to her romantic viewpoints also, as a big bootlicker, wouldnt soil her standing in the village by starting anything with a disgraced and far too gone criminal like sasori. shipping that version of sasori with sakura intimately is still going to set her up for a huge power imbalance that would be difficult to handle imo, even if she was the one in the fight ultimately exerting her power over him. i would still look at it and think damn she deserves better than having to play therapist for man like that lol.

additionally, even if you ignored all of this, you cant really ignore that sasori had already known her as a child, and that had been his first and most impactful impression of her. i dont think that sasori would look at 35 year old sakura and see her as a grown woman and not the little green girl she was in the fight. plus, you easily fall into predatory comparison territory between the “childish” and “womanly” and i have seen way too often in fic just being boiled down to her now being fuckable. a lot of of ships do this and i would just like to remind yall thats it not normal for adults to want to start relationships with children they have seen grown up or known as a child when they themselves were fully grown adults. therefore, maybe if sakura hadnt met sasori before it would be less of a problem? but that also obviously defeats the point of the dynamic and the reason he died in the first place. so yeah, it sounds kind of doomed especially if you were to make it romantic.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO THE SECOND QUESTION

let me preface this that im not fundamentally against age gaps, even if im not super interested in it. after all, colorblind had a 5 yr age gap (with sakura being 21), even if, say, i wrote similar fics today i probably would make it smaller lol. i think it can be handled well if both parties have enough life experience to deal with it, and the author is cautious of where the age gap starts, i think a 10+ year age gap would be fine in a scenario where the younger party (i guess sakura) was at least 25-27ish, meaning she has completed most of her most formative life stages and probably had been in relationships before, meaning she would be able to handle it without having to fear a huge power imbalance. the older the younger party is the less the age gap is going to matter tbh .TsukiHoshino and AngelOfDeath10 both handle age gaps in their fics really well imo, so i do not mind reading about them.

unfortunately, a lot of people in this fandom think making sakura barely "”””legal””””” (18, not even 20 which is hilarious to me because the source material is obviously japanese) because they both cannot stand her being past her “prime years” of being young fertile and fuckable to much older men as well as thinking a 20 year old is automatically old enough to handle that type of relationship. ive seen a lot of unironic takes that believe it will absolve them of callout posts if they throw around age of consent and “shes 18 now suckers!!!” enough lmfao. absolutely hilarious. aging a minor up without aging the adult down seriously reeks of predatory “cant wait until youre 18″ narratives and thats why i find it similarly disturbing as straight up pedo shipping.

ultimately, sasosaku is and will always be a inherently problematic ship in canon, which is why i think it should always be handled a little more responsibly in fandom spaces, ignoring or outright excusing the main problem factor, which is sasori, isnt going to convince anyone that the dynamic in itself is well written and interesting enough to explore in aus, like giving sasori the redemption most of us wanted him to have by aging him down to a point in time where he was still realistically going to allow being positively influenced, similar to gaara.

so really, what i think is well handled age gap and how most people handle age gap in the naruto fandom are two different worlds at times lol

tl;dr

canon shippers have never been anything but gross when i was younger and i didnt wanna be like that, even if youre “smart”enough to differenate, actual creeps dont really care and might use your content to blur the lines, sasori isnt rly redeemable so romantic canonverse realistically wouldnt make much sense and is still iffy, age gaps are fine if they are handled well, but given that the dynamic doesnt really need the age gap to still work im not that invested on making that an essential part of my shipping experience.

thank you for reading and hope this makes sense!

#nonitxt #meta #another hot take from me #but seriously if you're offended over these #unfollow me lol idc #defending predatory content is not a hill im gonna die on in this life

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msmkcreates · 4 years ago

Note

“so it’s a date?” “nope. not a date” for Slim/Reader? not from any specific fic, i dont think, though what ive read has been *chefs kiss*

I went with Mutt, since I'm not exactly sure what you meant by Slim? And also, this is absolutely not what you had in mind, most likely, so very sorry about that. On the bright side, it sets up for something else and I kinda like that.

Tags/Warnings: Eating Disorders, insults, not much fluff here, fat-phobia (?), reader has body issues and Mutt is an asshole, seriously an asshole

"Re-Hate-tionship" (SF!Papyrus/reader, platonic SF!Sans&Reader)

Was it bad, how much you hated Mutt? Was it wrong of you, as Black's best friend, to so completely despise his shit-talking older brother?

It can't be wrong, you reason, because he hates you just as much. He makes snide remarks at you, about your clothes, your hair, your anything really as long as it's something to pick at. He mocks you when you're trying to be serious, he pulls faces at the back of your head when he thinks you aren't looking, and you're pretty sure you could draw his middle finger from memory.

So, a mutual hate. A re-hate-tionship, if you will. You said that once, and he laughed, and then he looked so upset with himself for at least three days. Black has begged you both to get along, but honestly he's given up at this point--as long as nobody is throwing anything he lets you dance your dance of disapproval.

You'd asked him once, what you ever did to him, and he replied that you were a human of unknown intentions hanging around his brother...and you assumed that your retaliation had lit the flames to you being a bitch, which fed the hate. It isn't like you didn't try to be civil (okay it was rare but sometimes you tried) but it's hard to stay nice when three seconds after entering the house you're being insulted.

Today was no different, of course, you weren't sure what you'd expected when you'd come over for dinner. He hurled his usual insults at you, but this time he somehow hit a sensitive spot.

"why the fuck're we feeding you, too, again? honestly you could probably fit t'skip a meal, flesh-bag."

You stiffened immediately, and Black noticed. His face was full of fury, ready to tell Mutt off, but he didn't say anything when you sharply shook your head.

But it was too late, he'd noticed your lack of response. He didn't make another stab at your weight, at least not right away, but he smirked like he'd won something as you stabbed at your salad, perforating it over and over but ultimately pushing it away.

You weren't very hungry anymore.

It was halfway through the night, the movie still barely ramping up through the action, when he broke from his usual game of begrudging silence to take another crack at you.

"yer movie picker is shit," he said simply.

"It's a classic, everybody likes this movie," you huffed. "At least, anyone who isn't a complete degenerate. Guess I can't expect you to have any sort of taste, not like me and Black."

That earned a snicker from Black, almost a stamp of approval, and Mutt scowled. You only smiled back sweetly.

"i dunno if you can talk 'bout taste, do y'even taste the snacks you shove in yer face? or are y'just hooverin' them down?"

You pressed your lips into a thin line of displeasure, your free hand not holding the popcorn moving to Black's knee, squeezing as you felt him tense beside you. You don't respond, glaring at the TV in front of you, but you do put the popcorn aside, instead crossing your arms and wholly ignoring his presence.

It's fine. It wasn't as if you hadn't been horrible to him on other nights. You insulted him just as much for things he might be sensitive about--his scars, his golden tooth, other appearance based insults you'd be ashamed to repeat to your mother. Maybe if he didn't get a reaction, he'd poke at something else and leave your eating habits alone.

At the very least his little victory kept him in smug silence until the credits rolled.

"PERHAPS WE SHOULD SEND THE LEFTOVERS HOME WITH YOU, MY DEAR," Black said, bundling the last of it into a Tupperware. "DON'T THINK I DIDN'T NOTICE YOUR LACK OF APPETITE TONIGHT."

"M'fine," you said, waving away his thinly veiled concern. "You guys keep it."

"a shocking twist of generosity," Mutt added in a bored tone from the living room.

"I'm sorry, did I ask you? Or in some way imply that I was talking to you at all?" You huffed, glaring at him as Black rolled his eyelights, packing the Tupperware into your bag. "You know, you'd be a lot more fun to be around if you didn't spend every waking moment being an asshole."

"i don't spend every moment being an asshole," he chuckled, leaning over the half-wall that separated the kitchen and the living room. "it's somethin' i can turn off, so if that's my worst trait at least m'pretty."

"Gag me," you spat.

"now there's an image."

"Ew!" You scoffed, turning away from him to look at Black with exasperation.

"it's a date, then?" He laughed.

You looked back at him, horrified. "No, no, not a date, definitely not a fucking date. If you think you're coming anywhere close to my mouth with any filthy fucking part of your body--"

"what, i thought you liked a little sausage?" He practically purred. "y'certainly eat like ya'd suck a mean dick."

"MUTT! THAT IS ENOUGH!" Black said swiftly, but the damage was done.

It seemed he had found his new Favorite Thing to poke at about you. The unbothered look on his face as Black raised his voice at him was enough to make that blindingly clear, and you set your jaw, fists clenching as you glared at him.

"I eat like everybody else!" You said finally, hands shaking in your rage. "I'm not fat!"

"OF COURSE, HE DIDN'T MEAN IT THAT WAY--" Black tried, and you shook his hand off your arm.

"He did mean it that way!" You flipped Mutt off, with gusto. "Fuck you, and that isn't an invitation."

With that, you took off, storming out and onto the terrace. You would have left completely but your stuff wasn't all together yet and you didn't fancy coming back for it in twenty minutes. You slammed the sliding glass door as good as you could and dragged a deck chair to the edge of the balcony, plopping down and leaning on your crossed arms, staring down into the trees and foliage behind the building.

You could hear Black blowing up on Mutt inside, though the soundproofing was good enough that you couldn't hear exactly what he was saying, only the tone of it. He knows all about your history with your eating disorder, you'd broken down and cried to him after he'd asked you one too many times if you'd gotten enough to eat.

You understand that underground, resources were scarce, and that's why he always makes sure you've eaten enough. He's been good about his wording since then, carefully asking if you have everything you need, with heavy implications that he means food. It's worked thus far, and sending leftovers home was kind of his way of saying he loved you.

You assume, then, as you calmed down a bit, that Mutt really meant no offense when he said you eat well. It was probably a compliment, even, as veiled as it was. And it wasn't like you'd ever opened up to him about your strained relationship with food and your weight. He probably thought it was funny that a small compliment made you clam up in a way his insults never had.

The door slid open behind you and you sighed, closing your eyes. "It's fine, Black, I'll get over it."

"good, here i thought i'd hafta apologize."

You huffed and turned a glare on Mutt as he closed the door behind him. That was not your best friend as you had expected. "What, did he make you come out here to say sorry? Well, you can save it, I don't take insincere apologies."

"actually, he told me he's fed up with how i treat you and that he didn't want to see me within a mile of ya again." Mutt pulled up the second terrace chair and took a seat. "but i don't think i can do that."

"What, come to make fun of me, then?" You hissed, leaning back and glaring over at him. "Maybe call me names? Make pig noises?"

"i wouldn't do that," he said, seriously. "i pick my words pretty carefully, you know, if i'd'a known you had a thing about food i woulda picked 'em even more carefully."

"Since when do you give a shit about my feelings?"

"always," he said, and you snorted, disbelieving. "we may not get along, but yer important t'sans, that makes you important t'me. an' you ain't nothin' but beautiful, so i guess i didn't think that you'd take it as me callin' you fat."

"First you insult me, and now you lie to me." You stood up, and he looked right up at you as you loomed over him the best you could. "Anything else? Maybe poke fun at my dead mom, or fake-ask-me-out?"

"why would anyone fake asking someone out?" He asked, genuinely surprised. "i'm a mean bitch at heart, so is sans, but we'd never do that."

You huffed. "Well then congrats, you're better than the kids I went to school with. Barely."

He hummed thoughtful and you were about to turn and leave him behind--

"wanna fuck?"

Slowly, you turned around, looking at him in disbelief. "I'm sorry?"

"i said," he stood, crowding you against the balcony fencing, his hands on either side of you. "wanna fuck? you an' i might not get along, but you're fine as fuck, i'm not so bad, and i gotta bed we can work out our aggressions on. so, wanna fuck?"

You inhaled, hands on his chest and ready to push him away...but you're due for some stress relief and if anything you can trust him not to get attached, and despite being the opposite of friends you trust he'd never do anything to hurt you, if only for his brother's sake.

"You know what?" You breathed, straightening your posture. Your hands went from pushing to gripping his shirt. "Yeah. Let's fuck. You've had worse ideas."

#sf!papyrus/reader #drabbles #mkwrites #mutt being an asshole #tw: eating disorders #tw: weight

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oh-no-whoopsie · 4 years ago

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reasons I love kip!! (aka @ghostsingold)

(making this post bc they deserve all the love and my meds have kicked in so im able to be productive today. thanks long-acting adderall!!)

kip I love you for so many reasons and as I fill out college applications im gonna list them out <3 no special occasion its just! you make me happy and I wanted to share that with you and since I have a teeny blog no one will see this but you <3

1.) this response to a post I made on my old blog. it was one of my first positive interactions on Tumblr and this tiny piece of writing made that entire week easier. it was a tiny start to a friendship and it was also a stranger caring for me, which at that time I didn’t think was possible.

2.) every single time that they have been a part of the Brown Eye Stan Club and hyped up brown eyes,,,,dude I can’t you’ve been such a big part of the journey to accept my brown eyes. it means so much to me that you just? say it!! you’re proud of the fact you love brown eyes! hell yeah dude! thank you!

3a.) for sending me songs that remind you of me??? to have someone think of me?? MY HEART?? I- I can’t express how much it means to me I just,, hnnhhh you even made me a fucking playlist (which I listen to CONSTANTLY) (here is the playlist ) just. dude. I love you

4.) one of those songs is Glitter & Gloss by Skott and

a) this song makes me feel like a fucking badass

b) made me feel so appreciated and loved because it was the first time someone had said “this song reminds me of you!”

c). when I was stalking your blog trying to find my old posts I found this post about that song and?? sunbeams through Spanish moss? trees? pretty?? is this how you see me?? im in love????? also this ask I sent you where you describe your love for the sun <3 the implication that I am even a little bit like the sun to you makes me wanna cry happiness

5.) Your taste in music is SUPERB. IMPECCABLE. A DELIGHT.

6.) Someday I will have the strength to do naniwrimo with you and that will be a glorious month (and next September we should be able to be writing buddies!!!!! because now I have meds for attention span so I can write again >:) )

7.) A long time ago (old blog) I asked for people to give me nicknames because I never got cute nicknames and because I could only ever insult myself. for the longest time I forgot what you said but I remembered!!!! it was birdie!!

a). even though now most people call me doe cuz of bumblebee, you were the first person to reply to that post and just because milk suggested fawn/doe and it stuck doesn’t mean I love birdie any less

b.) it means a lot that you suggested it in the first place and while I was finding links for this post I came across this ask where you call me birdie :> p.s. you still mean a lot to me and I hope you’re okay <3

8.) every single time you sent me a picture of a frog :),, also that one post about taking fake shots of water still sends me but I can’t find it to link it,, and also everything you listed on this post including the fact that it is inspired by my post

9.) when you agreed to talk to people for me when I was panicking thinking they were going to die but had to go to sleep. that means so much that you would take that role on and dude I am so so sorry I ever asked that of you.

10). you made me find magic in the sunlight and not just the moonlight, you helped me find that balance and accept that piece of me and it sounds stupid but its really important ok also im just gonna say it: your voice is perfection it is comfort it is warm and all things good in this world. ive only heard you speak like twice but I could listen to you for the rest of my life

11.) sometimes you send me posts that r like “thinking of you!!” and THEY MAKE MY DAY omfg

12.) when you drew me!!!

a.) bc holy shit you are an amazing artist if you let me I want to post that drawing of me on my blog

b.) I was supposed to draw you in return I am sorry I did not,, I still plan on doing it tho

c.) we drew ourselves as fairies and that was pretty fun

d.) you made me see beauty in myself I-

13.) for never once encouraging my ed or bad habits. you were ready to call me tf out and I appreciate that so much dude? you were never subtley pro you also seem ready to stab anyone who opposes you. hell you post callouts against pr0-ana shit and m**nspo and f*tspo and photoshop and all of it. I admire you so much

14.) for letting me ramble on about hermes and offerings and spirituality!

15.) for lighting a candle for Catherine and talking with me that night

(I have the entire conversation copied into a google doc on my phone because it needed to be saved. the things you said are beautiful. it is so touching and breathtaking and if I could hug you I would and I promise not to forget if you won’t forget. )

16.) holy shit dude P O E T R Y, both for being so good at it and for reading mine.

17.) helping validate my arospec questioning and enby questioning,,, it was actually through your blog that I realized oh shit! I might be aro!! and having someone to talk about gender issues and arospec stuff is SO AMAZING and I love you <3 and thank you for talking with me and for helping me and for validating me

18) validating my anger!! or at least helping to do so! you point out when things are unfair! you genuinely want my life to improve! you helped me realize some of my friends are shitty! you helped me accept things!

19.) I love your vibes. I can’t say this enough but somehow you are just so wonderful to me,,, you are amazing I can’t describe it. you are ethereal and terrific and your features could be anywhere from beautiful to cryptic to solid to handsome but I promise you that there is something unique about you. a bit of mystery and magic left over from the days when fairytales were real. you have all the power of the sun and light and fire in both the life giving and the destructive aspects. you are so perfect and wonderful thank you

20.) because you told me “you do not deserve to be traumatized” and in all honesty that slapped me into reality. if i still had my old Tumblr I probably would’ve screenshotted it so I could get the exact quote but I do not know how to make you understand How Much That Helped me

all in all,,,, I must end the list here because I need to go be productive. alas.there is more I didn’t even BEGIN to mention,,, but kip, you are my rae of sunshine. someday we are going to go be cryptic authors in Scotland who disappear into the woods, perhaps to hunt with the faeries, perhaps no, who knows. we will become part of the local lore,, independent and happy and spooky.

I love you so much! also sorry I went through your archive to find all this,,,, to be fair I already did it once to find my posts <3

I would never say that just one person “saved me”. thats too big of a responsibility to share. but kip, you helped save me, in ways I can’t explain, from myself and from death and from an abyss of numbness. you saved me from a thousand tiny deaths and gave me a thousand new pieces of life and I would not be the person I am today without you. I love and appreciate you so much and you bring me sunlight and joy and peace and connection. you are a true friend to me. thank you for being here. you deserve the world and so much more.

#i luv u kip #tw disordered eating #do not think I am a stalker I just really want you to feel appreciated atm #I love you!!!! with all of my being I love you!#and I want to be there for you like you are there for me

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barnesandrogersfanfics · 5 years ago

Text

Baby Love - Part 4

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

A/N - This chapter is just fluff lol, also the song that plays on the radio is Backstreet Boys - No Place. It came on while i was writing this chapter and it just fit. Hope you enjoy this part ❤️

I was sitting in the back yard with a cup of tea throwing the ball to Dodger, he was happily running laps around the yard with his ball before bringing it back to me to throw again. My phone vibrated on the table beside me drawing my attention, i smiled seeing a message from Chris.

Morning sweetheart, you awake yet? Xx

Morning 😘, yeah I'm awake. Im sitting out back playing with Dodger xx

Its a little early for you isn't it? Xx

I think i slept too much yesterday lol xx

Anything planned for today? Xx

Nope just gonna hang out with my main man, i might not even get dressed today lol xx

Please tell me your not out in my back yard naked??.... xx

Of course not! Im wearing your Boston shirt ;) xx

Just my shirt!? Xx

Wouldnt you like to know.....xx

I chuckled as i typed my reply, i was wearing his shirt but i also had on a pair of sleep shorts... he didnt need to know that though.

I would actually! Xx

"Come on Dodge lets feed you" i called to him getting up and heading inside.

I walked into the house and stopped suddenly as i saw Chris closing the front door and dropping his bags on the floor.

"Your home!" i beamed after the shock wore off that he was actually here....he wasn't due back for days yet!

"I had to see you" he was smiling just as much as me as he started to walk towards me "your wearing more than my shirt you little tease"

"I didn't know you'd catch me in my lie" i shrugged, just as Chris reached me he was bundled by a very excited Dodger. Within seconds Chris was on the floor with Dodger jumping all over him licking his face as Chris laughed happily.

"Guess i'll wait my turn" i laughed as i stood watching the two of them greet each other.... I may have recorded their reunion!

After a few minutes i left them to it and went into the kitchen to do Dodgers food, maybe then id get a chance to see Chris. I was humming along to a song on the radio swaying my hips a little as i fed Dodger, then put the kettle on and grabbed some mugs from the cupboard.

When i felt hands winding around my waist i jumped, i hadnt heard Chris come into the kitchen! His hands were soon resting over my tummy as he pressed a kiss to side of my neck.

"Hey" i heard him say quietly, his voice slightly muffled as he nuzzled his face against me, his hand stroking my stomach.

"Hey" i smiled leaning back against him, one of my hands reaching back and stroking the back of his hair as the other covered his hand on my stomach.

"I missed you so much"

"I missed you too"

"I think Dodger missed me more, i got kisses from him.... i mean he tackled me to the floor!"

"You want me to tackle you to the floor Evans?... huh?" I teased turning round in his arms seeing the huge grin on his face.

"I wouldnt say no...."

"I would, but i cant be tackling you im afraid.... ive got precious cargo on board" i shrugged my shoulder.

"Righttttt! Probably a good idea not to tackle me then.....doesnt mean you can't kiss me though" he wiggled his eyebrows pulling me closer to him.

"Fineeee if i have to! Your so demanding...." i started to tease him but was cut off by him crashing his lips to mine, one hand cupping my face lovingly, the other resting on my lower back pulling me closer to him. Being back in Chris's arms was the best feeling in the world, even before we took that step from friends to lovers i always loved being in his arms. I pulled back enough to get a good look at him and smiled lovingly up at him.

"What?"

"How do you look this pretty after you've been working as much as you have and then being stuck on a plane... its just not fair" i chuckled as we slowly swayed to the song on the radio "i mean i have literally just slept for about 12 hours and i look like crap"

"You look beautiful" he smiled down at me "even with your bed hair".

I playfully slapped his chest as we both started laughing, it was soon silent except for the radio as we just enjoyed being together.

"I've been all around the world, done all there is to do

But you'll always be the home I wanna come home to

You're a wild night with a hell of a view

There ain't no place, ain't no place like you

There ain't no place, ain't no place like you"

"I like this song" Chris smiled pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"Yeah me too" i said pushing my hands under his tshirt and running them up his back "so um, as nice as this is.... you planning on taking me to bed anytime soon?"

"Really?....."

"Yes! From the second i saw you walk in that door I've wanted you!"

"Oh god me too!" He quickly scooped me up into his arms and rushed to his bedroom.

The rest of the day was spent in bed, we finally showered around 10pm when my stomach was growling so loudly that it kinda ruined the mood. Chris took Dodger out for his evening walk while i ordered Chinese, i was not cooking this late!

I was in the kitchen getting the boxes of chinese food out of the bag when Chris got back.

"Just in time" i smiled over my shoulder as he walked into the kitchen.

"Smells amazing"

"You think? i thought it smelt a little weird.... you dont think this smells funny?" I asked holding out some pork chow mein, he took the box and sniffed at them before shaking his head.

"Smells fine to me"

"Really?"

"Yeah" he nodded "maybe its a pregnancy thing?"

"Hmmm maybe..... god i still cant believe im pregnant. Like, im growing a human right now.... how weird is that!"

Chris laughed throwing his head back, right hand holding his chest, yes the famous Chris Evans left boob grab laugh! "Its not weird at all sweetheart, people have babies everyday"

"I know that, its just weird that im having a baby" i shook my head "still doesnt feel real i guess"

"Well it is" he said pulling me into his arms "we can make an appointment for the doctor in the morning if that will make you feel better?"

"Yeah okay"

Chris pressed a quick kiss to my lips then passed me one of the chinese food boxes "Come on, you need to eat"

"Oh god Chris please keep those away from me" i turned away from them seeing the pork chow mein and grabbed the spare ribs "mmm these smell amazing"

"You better share woman!"

"You've got that nasty chow mein leave my ribs alone Evans" i laughed as i walked through to the living room.

"Come onnnn" he whined behind me.

"But the baby wants ribs" i pouted at him as i sat on the sofa getting comfy.

"God, fine! You can have the ribs" he sighed sitting next to me.

"Im just kidding! Of course i'll share with you...."

"Awww really?"

"Yeah of course.....you can have one"

"One??"

I burst out laughing as he grabbed me with one arm pulling me into his lap.

"Hey careful! Im gonna drop this all over your floor!"

"Lets just forget dinner and go back to bed, i like that idea more"

"I need food first, I'm starving! But we can go back to bed after i promise"

"Fine"

"I ordered extra ribs for you by the way, i knew you'd want some" i pecked his lips quickly before climbing off his lap and finally getting started on the ribs that smelt like the most amazing thing in the world.

"Hey do you have any pickles??" I turned to Chris

"What??.....pickles? Why do you want pickles... your eating chinese food"

"I really want pickles"

"Definitely a pregnancy thing" Chris muttered under his breath as he got up and headed back to the kitchen.

"Thank you!" I called out to him as i chuckled to myself, he really was the best.

@jennmurawski13

@mybabyboytony

@ms-betsy-fangirl

@vampgirl1997

@ajosieface

@afuckingshituniverse

@chmedic

#steve x reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans #babylove #friendstolovers

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same-side · 5 years ago

Note

hiiii! i just wanna say, i adore your art. second, im teaching myself to draw and while i can draw simple basics (mouths and sometimes eyes if im lucky), im still a beginner. ive watched many art videos and im still a bit confused on wtf im doing. so i just came here to ask if you had any words of wisdom for beginners? could be anything from what tablets to buy to simple mistakes to avoid. ive read some of the other posts here and have found it all extremely helpful so far! Thx for all you do!!

Hey there! Thank you so much!

I would put a read more but tumblr is broken. I’m trying to cover a lot of varied thoughts in little points, so if there’s anything you would like me to elaborate on or otherwise have questions on, feel free to shoot me an ask or dm me!

General

I think the biggest thing to remember is not to compare yourself extensively to others. A little bit of comparison is healthy... But too much will destroy your confidence, motivation, and take the fun out of art. Particularly if you are comparing yourself to someone older than you (life experience and coordination come into play here) or that has been drawing much longer (practice).

Additionally... If you’re not having fun (and you’re not getting paid to do it), don’t force yourself. If you find yourself being frustrated or bored with art, don’t force yourself to do it. That’s how you burn out and get art block! This applies to parts of a peice, too! If you don’t feel like drawing a face or a hand today? don’t force yourself to finish it. Come back to it later when you aren’t as frustrated or are getting better results. Even if its a week or a month from now. Honestly, at any given time I have probably ten headless bodies in my drafts. That’s okay! I just come back to them when I’m ready to do the face. And don’t be afraid to abandon something if it doesn’t feel right!

Something that also doesn’t get said enough.... take care of your body! I never knew when I started art, but artists are supposed to do warmup sketches and stretches and muscle exercises! I didn’t do any of this, and i went through a period of a few months where I was drawing for 5ish hours every single day. I developed carpal tunnel from it! So remember to take care of yourself. Take breaks, stretch, remember to eat.

Practice

Practice!!!! Even if its just for fifteen minutes every day. Or twice a week. But if art is something you really want to get good at, you have to put in the time and effort!! You can’t expect to draw an hour per month and be on the same level as someone who draws an hour a day!

I know I say this a lot but I think the biggest thing is just reference! If you don’t know what something looks like, look at a picture of it when you draw it! To go hand in hand with that, though, don’t just copy what you see! Learn from it and apply it! So take, for example, a shoe! pay attention to the way the heel is shaped, the location of the eyelets for the laces... how large the toe is, how steep the top! While you’re at it, look at other styles of shoes as well, and compare them! See what makes it look like a boot versus a trainer! And then the next time you draw it, hopefully you’ll remember all the things you learned the first time around!

I do lots of studies that serve no purpose other than to teach me things! I use referencing/studies to learn about color theory, shapes, and anatomy in a real environment. For example, hands or fabric folds! Oftentimes I’ll do them timed (20 or 45 minutes) so that I don’t fixate on perfecting things, just on the process itself and what I can learn from it. This also helps with getting better acclimated to your software and more coordinated with what you’re doing. Repetitive learning, like with playing sports.

I’ve realized a lot of people don’t quite understand what a study is? Basically you just look at a photo and try to replicate it so that you can learn about lighting or color theory or textures or anatomy or whatnot. So here’s an example of a timed study.

Additionally, don’t avoid!! We, as humans, have a tendency to avoid things that make us uncomfortable or are difficult. But it will make you a better artist in then end. When I first started, I absolutely hated doing fabric. I felt like I wasn’t good at it. So instead of avoiding drawing clothing, I sat down and did studies and sketches of different kinds of fabric. By the end of this learning period, I became comfortable with it and grew to enjoy it. These days, I adore sketching clothes, and it’s why my pants and shirts and things tend to be detailed instead of stylized in line art. If you don’t like drawing hands because you feel like you aren’t good at it? Sit down, look at a bunch of pictures of different hands, and practice it. By the end, you’ll be more comfortable, you’ll have learned something. Even if you feel like the drawings you ended up with aren’t good, you’ll still have learned, and that’s what matters!

Style

I worked on basics before I tried to develop a style. I made sure to start with a very realistic method at first, so that I could be sure I understood how fabric folds, anatomy, and realistic expressions worked before I tried to stylize them. I think in the long run this approach really paid off for me. It also allowed me to be conscientious of what elements I was absorbing into my artwork. I hear from so many artists that they started drawing when they were younger and into anime or cartoons or things like that, and tried to emulate it. Because those styles became so ingrained into their artistic skillset, it becomes near impossible to iron out those influences and get rid of them later. So starting with realism is a way to ingrain proper anatomy and other good practice into your artwork.

One way to develop style is to take a look at the artwork of someone you admire, and try to list out the things you like form their style - perhaps the thickness of their lines, or the way they do eyes. Do this with several artists, take all those little details you like and try them out! See if you enjoy using them in your own drawing process! Think of it like a grab bag or a pick-n-mix, sprinkling in the elements you like here and there to create something new and your own - not just copying another artists style word for word.

Don’t worry too much about it though; don’t allow yourself to become anxious or fixated on “achieving a style”. Its a natural ever evolving process that comes with time and practice. I know a lot of people get hung up on style, but just take it one day at a time!

Also try to keep in mind what style you’re going for as you begin drawing. And I don’t mean that like sailor moon vs. ghibli. I mean that as in, is this piece going to be a painting, a lineart, a lined painting, cell shading...? It will help you in the longrun if you narrow down the broad kind of style you use, and refine from there.

Workflow

My workflow for paintings is very different from my workflow for lineart and cell shading. A full tutorial on how I do paintings can be found here! A process video for how I cell shade can be found here!

Everyone is going to have a different method that works for them! You just have to experiment and find out how you like to draw! For me, personally, I use color blocking for painting (see the tutorial above) and a spine method for lineart. How the spine method works is that I will draw lines that represent the legs, arms, back, etc. so that I can determine the placement, length, and composition. From there, I’ll add a dark outline that actually shows the shapes of the body. Then, I’ll use thinner lines to add details. This is the method I’ve found that works for me. Another commonly used method that I’m sure you’ve seen is representing body parts with cylinders and cubes. There are lots of good tutorials out there on breaking down bodies into shapes like this!

Something that I do is if I’m not quite happy with a part of a drawing, I don’t just erase it. I duplicate the layer so that I always have the original copy, and then I make changes from there. Sometimes I can end up with five or six different versions of the same arm or face that i’ve made minor changes to. And then I compare and pick the one I like best, or condense all the parts I like from each version to make a “best” version.

Tools

Currently I use Procreate and the standard Ipad with Apple Pencil. Prior to March I was using a Wacom Bamboo Touch and Photoshop Elements 2008. I find its harder for me to do full paintings in procreate, but its made my life a million times easier for lineart and cell shading. The pen pressure is phenomenal, and I also adore that its wireless / active screen instead of plug in like the wacom. The programme itself is intuitive and easy to get the hang of; it simply lacks a lot of the neat tricks that photoshop has, like rendering (lens flares, for example), gradients, and gradient maps. Try testing out different trials of programmes... firealpaca, photoshop, autodesk, whatever it may be! What works for me may not work for you!

#thegodbucky #asks for ts #t talks #long post #art reference

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survivingthejungle · 6 years ago

Text

soft; jerome x reader

ive never written anything this fluffy in my god damn life... hopefully its not a complete flop? idk

You hadn’t committed a crime.

Regardless of whatever conclusion the jury had come to, you would always maintain that you hadn’t committed a crime. Because, what crime is there in justice?

One of the men who had tried to assault you had just been a little too lazy with his knife, and in a moment of instinctual self-defence, you had pushed it back in on himself.

Unfortunately for you, the other man—the one who hadn’t been stabbed—had managed to pay off the jury to convict you of first degree murder, and the only way you would avoid going to straight-up prison would be taking the insanity plea.

You fought it—oh, how you fought it, tooth-and-nail— but in the end, you and your family didn’t have the resources, and the corrupt rich of Gotham once again won the day. The playout of your hearing had caused outrage throughout the city, and no one believed that you deserved to go to an asylum, but the public backlash surrounding your conviction still was not enough to get the decision overturned.

Some of the staff at Arkham were sympathetic to your case and did all they could to treat you like the normal girl you were, not like one of the truly mentally-ill patients who were there for good reason. Of course, not every staff member was this accommodating— Dr. Strange had been wanting to use you as an guinea pig for a while now. The only thing keeping him from doing so was your family’s constant visits and the fact that he couldn’t be sure that the nurses and guards who knew you and your story wouldn’t rebel against him.

About a month into your incarceration— one down, two to go— there was a change in atmosphere. An unusual burst of activity came about one morning; while you were in your cell, brushing your teeth and washing your face, a handful of guards all stormed past, seemingly guiding someone along with them. You peeked out of the small window on your door, but couldn’t see much aside from the guards and a quick flash of a tuft of bright red hair.

To ensure that your safety was never compromised and that all of the staff knew you were no real threat, it had been decided within the Asylum that you were not to wear the same black-and-white striped garments as all of the other inmates. Instead, you had been given a handful of simple, white cotton slips, and you had been allowed to bring some of your own sweaters, shoes, and socks from home. You had been allowed your own pajamas from home, so you decided to bring two pairs of basketball shots, two t-shirts, and a big sweatshirt to sleep in. In addition, yo also brought a handful of your favorite scrunchies and hair clips, and a notebook and pen to keep track of your thoughts and write letters while you were away. To say you stood out like a sore thumb would be an understatement; you didn’t look exactly like an inmate, you certainly didn’t look like staff, and you didn’t look like a normal teenage girl either. You just looked different, and you were okay with that. You were content just keeping to yourself, minding your own business, writing and reading when you had the opportunity, and getting the hell out of this asylum.

Until recently. A new inmate had recently been admitted; around your age, tall, vivid red hair, an unnerving laugh, and arrested on a count of matricide. When they brought him in, he was strapped up in a straight jacket and being wheeled around. He caught sight of you in the rec room and winked, and you, being caught in a trance-like daze, had simply lifted your hand and waved with a straight face. It didn’t help that he was an objectively attractive guy; if you had seen him anywhere outside of an asylum, you probably would’ve heart-eyed him with your friends. But you were in an asylum, the both of you, so you decided to maintain your earlier resolve of keeping to yourself and not interacting with anyone else.

The next day, you saw him come into the rec room. You were sitting in an old, worn-out bean bag reading one of the old hand-me-down books from a shelf in the corner. It was Madame Bovary, a title you’d heard repeated many times but never really looked into until now. You were halfway through and so engrossed with the tragic story that you didn’t notice a presence seat itself beside you until you heard a voice speaking.

“Hi gorgeous, I’m Jerome.” It was the redhead from yesterday, grinning at you.

“Hi. That’s not my name,” you responded, pulling your eyes away from him and back to your book.

“Well then, by all means, spill! What can I call you?” His voice was deep but had a childlike lilt, like everything he said was purposefully over-theatrical. He placed his chin on his fist, staring intently at you.

“My name is (Y/N). I don’t really wanna talk to anyone right now, so can you just leave me alone?”

“Jeez, just trying to be polite… Y’know, a girl could really use some friends in a place like this.”

“No, not really. I’m fine how I am. Thanks, though.”

He paused and looked at you quizzically as though he had just noticed something that he hadn’t before. “Hey, how come you don’t wear stripes like the rest of us, huh?”

“Because I’m not like the rest of you. I’m not supposed to be in here.”

“Ugh, believe me, babe, I tried that line too. Didn’t work. C’mon, what’d you do to get in here? Now I’m curious,” he prodded.

You were silent for a moment. Some people had no problem admitting that they had done something like that; in fact, some reveled in it. But you were not the kind of girl who could just openly declare that I killed a man. “...It was self defense.”

“Oh yeah,” he lightly scoffed, “Then how’d you end up here, and not scot-free out there?”

“This is Gotham,” you shot back, “There’s no justice in this city. If a rich man wants a girl locked up, she gets locked up. End of story.”

“Ain’t that the truth, sister.” He let out a sigh and leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. “Tell me something, though,” he started, staring at you. “Are you being serious?”

“You tell me… I’m already in an asylum. If I was really guilty, I would’ve admitted it by now, right?”

“Huh.” He shook his head, looking away from you. “Huh. You got me there. Well… that sucks for you, doesn’t it?”

“You’re telling me; I’m the one wrongly incarcerated.”

“Hey! That’s perfect! So you really do need a friend in this place, otherwise all the rest of these crazies are gonna eat you up…” he got closer to you before continuing. “Y’know, it’s really not safe for you here if you’re the only sane person. I think we should be friends.”

“If it gets you off my case, then sure, I guess.” A grin lit up his face and he leaned back out of your personal space; he did not, however, show any signs of leaving you alone anytime soon. “Will you leave me alone now, please?” you asked.

“What kind of a friend would I be, leaving you alone out here to fend for yourself? Nah, see, these other guys in here, they’ll do bad things to a pretty girl if she’s all alone. I’m just looking out for you.”

You considered his words for a moment. Although no one had truly tried to harm you yet, you hadn’t been here long. And some of the creepier inmates had been staring you down recently, now that you thought about it… “I’m not gonna, like… talk to you, a lot. I just read a lot. And write. And draw, sometimes. But I’m not a big conversationalist. So if that’s what you wanted from me, you got the wrong girl.”

“Hey, that’s fine by me,” he responded. “You just sit there and look pretty till you get to go home. I’ll be your silent protector.”

Not very silent, you thought. “Why… why do you even wanna be my friend, then? If you’re not looking for someone to talk to… You just wanna ‘help me out’? You’re a wannabe serial killer, you don’t really seem like the kind of guy who tries to help a girl out of the goodness of his heart.”

“What can I say?” he asked you. “I can be unpredictable. And you seemed kinda… Sad. Lonely. I dunno. But a pretty, innocent girl locked up in here shouldn’t have to fend for herself. I may be bad, alright, but I’m not completely souless!” He snickered to himself. “Heh, get it? ‘Cause I’m a ginger.” You let out a soft, breathy laugh at that; one you couldn’t contain. “Hey,” he reached out and nudged your cheek, “There’s that smile. Go on, I’m sorry, read your book. I’ll just chill here… Hangin’ out.”

The asylum was particularly chilly today, so you slipped an oversized, washed-out pastel sweater over your dress, as well as a pair of mismatched thick socks. You slid into a pair of plain brown ankle boots with loose laces and clipped two red barrettes into your hair, a yellow scrunchie on your wrist. According to the little red antique clock in your cell, it was nearly eight A.M.— breakfast, which Jerome would always walk down to with you. He always delayed the guards as much as possible before passing your cell, so that you could be escorted down with him.

It had been about two weeks since your first encounter, and while you were initially wary of the prospect of being chummy with a convicted murderer, there was something about him that drew you in. Maybe it was how charming he could be, or how protective he acted of you or how he definitely wasn’t the most unattractive person you’d ever seen, but you weren’t as opposed as you used to be towards being his friend. You heard the sound of struggling increase as it got closer and closer to your door, and you knew it was Jerome come to “pick you up” for the day. You waited at your door, looking out the barred slot as the guards got closer and closer.

“Excuse me? Could I be taken down to breakfast as well?” you asked them, and one with a key ring unlocked your door and let you step outside into the hall.

“Mornin’, (Y/N).” It was Anthony, a guard that you felt you had a good standing with. He was always respectful to you because he had been keeping up with your trial while it was in the news, and he firmly believed that you had done nothing to end up in this place.

“Good morning. How are you?”

“I’m just well, thanks! Did you sleep alright?”

“Yeah, I did! Do you know what variation of gruel they’re feeding us today?” Jerome snorted at this. “Hey, Jerome. What’s up?”

“Oh, y’know, not much.”

“Sounds fun.”

Breakfast was, in fact, another variation of gruel. You had been given a choice between cinnamon and apple oatmeal, lazily slopped onto a tray before being shoved into your arms with a spoon.

You took a seat at an unoccupied table and began to eat and read— you were rereading Gatsby, now—until Jerome joined you.

“Hey, J,” you greeted him, not looking up from your book.

“Hey there, girlie,” he greets, nudging you when he sits down beside you. “What’s the plan today?”

“They have me in group today. Something about having to ‘act like we’re making progress’,” you slightly mocked.

Jerome gasped. “Well, hey! Whadaya know? I’m in group today, too!” The possibility that you were not in the same group was slim to none; your proximity in age and the fact that both of your cells were on the same floor meant that in any group setting, you were bound to end up together.

“Have they put you in it before?” you wondered.

“Oh, yeah, once or twice,” he told you, taking another spoonful of oatmeal before continuing. “Don’t be nervous about it. All they do is sit you in a circle and give you pens and paper and have you talk about your feelings and why you killed people.” That was still a touchy subject. You’d never verbally say that you ‘killed’ a person; there was a difference between murder and self-defense, and there was absolutely no way in hell you’d ever be convinced they were the same. Jerome noticed a shift in your attitude. “Well, I mean, you never killed anyone. So I guess you won’t have to participate too much.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you agreed. A burly looking man the approached Jerome, eyeing you all the while.

“Jerome.” He looked up and rolled his eyes at the man.

“Can I help you with something, Greenwood?”

“Yeah. Just wondering when you’re gonna share your little lady friend with the rest of us.” He sat down opposite both of you. “She looks tasty.”

In shock, you couldn’t properly formulate a response to the man’s lewd comments, so while you sat there, eyes fixated on your oatmeal, Jerome took the liberty of speaking up on your behalf. “She’s off limits, pal. Don’t touch her,” he told him, grinning all the while. “Or I’ll flay you and feed you to the rats.”

“Oh, little J’s got himself a girlfriend now, huh? What, you gonna chop her up just like you chopped up your mommy?” Greenwood inched closer and closer to Jerome while taunting him, and your friend was getting visibly aggravated.

His fist clenched and he slammed it on the table. You put your hand over his forearm to draw his attention over to you instead. “Jerome. Stop,” you requested.

“What?” he asked you. “Why me? What about him?”

“Because I know you can be rational,” you told him, maintaining eye contact. “It’s not worth it. Don’t give him the reaction he wants.”

He let out a short breath and turned his attention back to Greenwood. “You know what? She’s right. You’re not worth my foot. Go back to playing with your little dolls, Greenwood,” he taunted, gesturing with his free hand. Greenwood snarled, but got up and walked away anyways. Jerome looked back to you. “Y’know, you’re starting to rub off on me. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll be a goody two-shoes just like you!” he joked, snickering. You just rolled your eyes, the ghost of a soft smile on your face.

“Hey,” you warned, “Don’t start getting soft. That’s my thing,” you shot back.

“Yeah, I know,” he smirked at you, catching your hand—the one that was on his forearm—in his. “Jeez, (Y/N), why are you so cold?” he asked you. His hands were exponentially warmer than yours, and you appreciated the heat warming up your own.

“It’s the middle of January and I have terrible circulation. Plus, no one in this place cares enough to turn the heat up.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” he laughed. Then he was putting his head on top of yours, so you leaned your head onto his shoulder.

“What time is it?” You yawned. He told you that it was roughly eight-thirty. “Gross.” Jerome chuckled and gave a murmur of assent. He took his hand out of yours and put his arm around your shoulders instead.

“I’ll wake you up when they make us leave,” he assured you as you closed your eyes, thanking him. Then you were off to sleep again, catching up on all of the hours you had missed since you had been incarcerated. He grabbed your book off of the table and began reading it for himself. He kept one hand lightly trailing through your hand while the other was used to flip the pages until, at 9:20, the nurses came to inform the both of you that it was time for therapy.

If someone would’ve asked you what had been discussed in that session, you wouldn’t’ve had a clue. You sat next to your only friend in the place, of course, latching onto the only person you’d truly felt comfortable with since you’d been brought in. The two of you had passed notes back and forth the whole time, decorated with goofy little doodles and cartoons to entertain one another. When Jerome had cracked a joke to you following one of the other inmates’ comments, you could barely suppress your giggle, and you both had ended up making a bit of a scene.

“Jerome. (Y/N). Cut it out,” the therapist had reprimanded you. Jerome just gave her a nod, but you had verbally apologized and promised that it wouldn’t happen again.

A few seconds later, another note was passed onto your lap. SORRY FOR BEING A BAD INFLUENCE, it had read. You flipped it over to respond on the other side.

we balance each other out

like a negative and a positive

Two months later, and you were finally free to return to the rest of the world. You were overjoyed; you couldn’t wait to get back to your friends and family. You couldn’t wait to get back to school, something you never thought you’d say to yourself. You were also surprised at how well Jerome had responded when you’d told him that you were finally going home.

“You’ll write to me, right?” he asked you.

“Of course,” you verified.

“And visit?”

“I’ll try my damndest,” you promised.

He had seemed like he was making so much progress when you were around. At least, that’s what the nurses and therapists had all noted. For his own sake, they all secretly wished that you would keep coming back to help him out.

After another month, the whole city was erupted into chaos.

There had been some sort of gas leak at Arkham, followed by a breakout; your friend among the escapees. The next time you saw him had been on the T.V. in the midst of attempting to blow up a school bus full of cheerleaders from Gotham High.

You felt your heart break in your chest as you sat on your bed that morning watching the news. You’d really, truly let yourself believe that he wasn’t as bad of a person as the media had portrayed him, especially during his trial. You knew him firsthand! He was such a good friend to you, and was always watching your back. It was hard for you to believe that the boy who passed you notes in therapy and made you laugh all day was the same boy who had just kidnapped and murdered seven dock workers and attempted to blow up a bus full of cheerleaders the same age as him.

But, sadly, this was the reality that you lived in. I guess he really fooled me, huh, you thought to yourself.

Around noon that same day, while watching some documentary on Netflix and sending texts back and forth with one of your best friends, you heard a loud knocking outside of your window. “Holy shit!” you exclaimed, heart nearly leaping out of your chest. When your adrenaline rush finally slowed, you looked to see what had caused the noise, and—

“Holy shit!” Lo and behold; it was none other than Jerome Valeska. He grinned at you, waving emphatically.

“Open up, wouldya?” He spoke through the window. “Let’s catch up!”

You walked over to your windowsill but didn’t open the window, instead choosing to lock it. “Why should I let you into my house, Jerome? I’d be harboring a fugitive. That’s a crime. Just like kidnapping, murder, and arson,” you glared at him. “Why would you do that, J?” you asked, hurt evident in your eyes, even through the glass separating you.

“Let me in, (Y/N), I really wanna talk. You know I’d never hurt you.” You immediately believed him, having to consciously remind yourself that you might’ve been being led into a trap. That was, until he held up a fist and extended his pinky. “I pinky swear.” Damn, the boy knows I love me a good pinky swear. You gave up your resolve and cracked the window just enough to reach your own hand through, locking your fingers together before opening it the rest of the way.

“Okay. Talk,” you told him as he climbed through and stepped into your room. You took a seat on the edge of your bed, and he followed suit.

“This guy, Theo… he’s the one who broke us all out,” Jerome began to explain. “Kinda boring dude. But also kinda cool. He’s like the weird, rich uncle I never had,” he joked, making you crack a small smile. He smiled himself at that, nudging you playfully. “Anyways, he gives this whole speech about how we all have ‘vision’ and ‘talent’ and yada yada yada… So I know he gets me.

“Says he wants us to just go crazy, right? ‘Paint the town red’, other junk like that,” he continued. “The last guy who tried to leave, Sionis… He had him stabbed to death. Right in front of us all.” Your eyes shot up to his, shocked. “I can’t very well follow in his footsteps,” he told you.

“Oh, Jerome… That’s awful. I’m sorry.” You wrapped an arm around his side, implying that you’d mostly forgiven him for what he’d been doing recently. It’s not his fault, you reasoned, he’s scared for his life. “What if I call the cops so they can keep you safe from him? You don’t have to keep hurting people,” you offered.

“No, (Y/N), please don’t,” he begged. “They’ll just send me straight back to Arkham, I don’t wanna go back there, I hate that place—”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I understand. I won’t call anyone. Be safe, though? I mean… try as much as you can to not hurt anyone if you can help it.”

“I will. You were right, y’know. About balancing each other out. I think we make a good pair,” he told you, a smile that looked genuine on his face.

“Best friends,” you offered back. Then you gave him a solid hug, burying your face in his chest.

And you’d never have seen it, but that genuine smile suddenly became cunning and devious once more. Gotcha...

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