#been thinking about GREASY breaking things off with Shiny after finding someone new

[marinerainbow]

Since Shiny has never been in romantic love before (that I've developed so far. Though I'm thinking maybe she could have had a tiny crush on a deaf kid her age that prompted her to learn sign language, but it never went anywhere), a breakup or rejection would hit her pretty hard. Harder than even she would expect. She's used to sexual rejection, whether its for work or leisure. But here, when she's bared her heart and soul to this one special person and they turn her down, Shiny wishes she could just forget about them. But, as anyone knows who has gone through a breakup or rejection, it's never that easy.

She'd try to hide it, but she'd be crying to herself in her home when alone. I can see her breakup song being Shakira's Don't Bother, "I promise you won't ever see me cry. Don't feel sorry."

[jaskiersvalley]

Ways To Say "I Miss You"

Modern times were not all that great. At least Eskel didn't think so. While the Continent moved on, even Geralt got with the times and used newer tools of the trade, Eskel still preferred the tried and tested two swords and maybe a crossbow method of his trade. Guns were loud, smelly and expensive. Not that swords were cheaper but they were a one off expense every so often rather than having to keep buying bullets and who knew what else guns needed. At least with a crossbow he could get his ammunition back. The one thing Eskel conceded was that cars were kind of useful. Though he did miss being able to nod off on Scorpion's back and know they wouldn't run into trouble. Falling asleep behind the wheel was a no go, his instructor had looked horrified when he asked whether it was what cruise control was for. But, Eskel had to admit, cars were handy in their own way. He could just about cram into his back seat and sleep out of the rain if needed, and they sure made traversing across the Continent quicker. Everything else though, Eskel shunned as much as possible, refusing to accept contracts from tinny, disembodied voices in flimsy ringing slabs of plastic. Those were also known as mobiles but Eskel couldn't stand the idea of them. If he needed to call Lambert or Geralt, he could use a payphone. Not that he trusted those much more.

Thinking of Lambert made him sigh. The Continent was huge, with cars widely available it meant that they were further apart than ever, covering larger areas for jobs. Just because humanity had progressed didn't mean monsters and creatures were less of a threat, there was still a need for witchers. Staring into his pint of beer, Eskel wondered just how Lambert was doing. It had been several months since they'd seen each other. They last met in some greasy diner along a motorway that was about half way between their locations. It was always easy to pick Lambert out of a crowd, his motorbike was big, he'd swapped leather armour for biker leather and still took no shit from anyone.

An elbow jostled Eskel, pulling him from his thoughts. Jaskier gave him a pointed look. "If you miss him so bad, just give him a ring. We live in the modern times for crying out loud."

Puzzled, Eskel frowned and drank his beer. A soft belch made him jolt a little and Jaskier laughed at him before waltzing off with drinks in hand. Truth be told, Jaskier had taken to the changes with ease and grace. If he said to give Lambert a ring, then Eskel would.

Dutifully, he went to a jeweller the next day and frowned at the cases of rings. There were so many to choose from, most of them at astronomical prices. Eskel quickly ruled out anything with stones in them or anything intricate or delicate. Knowing Lambert as he did, he would need something sturdy and not shiny. Black titanium seemed the most fitting of options and Eskel guessed the size to the best of his abilities.

The drive across the Continent was long, a good 15 hours which was a two day trek even with witcher stamina. Still, Eskel drove, ring in a pocket. Modern times were weird, he mused to himself, giving someone a ring to say they missed them. However, Eskel was determined to make sure Lambert knew he was missed and he seemed much more at ease with the times. Even if Eskel didn't understand, Lambert surely would.

Finding a payphone, he dialled Lambert's long memorised number and left a message.

"7pm at the Swan's Stockings. Don't be late."

Of course Lambert was late. But he sat down only ten minutes after seven on the barstool next to Eskel. The bartender knew Lambert and was bringing his drink over without even having to ask what he wanted. Without a word Eskel pulled the ring from his pocket and plopped it in front of Lambert, no fanfare or anything. Lambert would understand.

A hush descended on the whole bar, all eyes turned to them. Staring at the ring, Lambert blinked, lips pressed into a thin line. He picked it up, rolled it between fingers before putting it on.

"Huh. It fits."

The whole bar erupted in cheers and the bartender brought them two new drink with a happy "on the house for the happy couple". A few cameras went off, taking photos of them and Eskel was rather flummoxed.

"So, did you just want a free drink? Or you get into trouble and need a fake fiancé?" Lambert was laughing as though he was trying to hide something painful. "Don't tell me you want to get married for a tax break!"

Eskel finally looked at him properly, ignoring the holler of "kiss him to seal the deal!" from somewhere in the bar. Instead he said, "Jaskier said if I missed you I should give you a ring."

The snorting hoot of a laugh from Lambert was not expected. Nor was the way he scrambled to get his mobile from his pocket, with and incoming video call from Jaskier.

"Please tell me why you two are trending on social media," he said by way of greeting. "What's this I hear about an engagement? Am I not a good enough friend to be told rather than to find out because you've become an internet sensation?"

Snickering, Lambert waved at the screen, ring clearly visible. "He just missed me. And you told him to give me a ring."

Face falling, Jaskier was left speechless. Until he blurted out, "But you seem to have said yes?!"

"You know me." Lambert shrugged, the pained grin back again. "I'll take anything I can get."

Finally Eskel managed to get his brain to kick into gear and he reached across for the phone.

"Excuse us. I have to talk to Lambert. In private." With that, he ended the call and turned to Lambert. "Did you really think I was proposing to you?"

Suddenly, Lambert looked sheepish. "Well, I mean, we've had our tumbles and fun..."

"I never thought you wanted more."

There was a charged vulnerability between them as Lambert looked away, reaching for his free drink.

"Would you say yes again, if I asked?" Eskel pressed.

"I wouldn't expect you to. Esk, please don't do this." Looking at him, Lambert pleaded with words and expression.

Leaning in, Eskel whispered, "What if I want to?"

Their lips met in a gentle kiss, to the delight of the patrons still watching them. Pulling away, Lambert had the ghost of a smile on his lips, "I've always said yes to you."

[babbushka]

Some of those prompts are so funny! Can you please write this one for Flip or a Kylo AU? It’s hilarious!

“I may be loves bitch but at least I’m man enough to admit it.”

A/N: This silly little something is completely inspired by chatting with my dear friend @safarigirlsp !

2k, Flip chugging his respect women juice aka being his wife's #1 fan (he's a lil confused but he's got the spirit) cw: lowkey 1970s misogyny

Flip’s about ready to bang his head on the fucking desk in front of him from frustration, when he hears it. Those magic words that somehow get him through the day, each and every day, when the hours drone on and on and on at the station, when he feels like he’s been there for six years instead of only six hours.

In the habit that he and Ron have built up ever since being desk neighbors in the narcotics unit’s special glass office, Ron has finally come around and saved him from sudden death by boredom, by slapping a hand on Flip’s shoulder and happily announcing, “Present for you in the lobby.”

“Shit it’s already lunch?” Perking up at once, Flip shoves himself away from his desk, sparing a glance to his watch and seeing that it was in fact noon. He doesn’t even bother to push his chair in as he weaves through the other desks in the office on his way to the door, stopping himself before practically bolting to ask, “Thanks Ron, you stickin’ around? She said she was bringing stuff over for us.”

Ron only nods, knowing that Flip wants to get to you as quickly as possible, and so he spares him the conversation so that the detective can do just that.

You’re beautiful, as you always are, in the lobby of the CSPD. Currently chatting away with one of the secretaries at the front desk, you’re dressed in that new outfit Flip likes so much, your hair done up all pretty and fashionable. Instantly, his day is made better just by your being here -- something that he’s grateful for, because his day had been pretty fucking trying up until this point.

“Hi honey!” You catch sight of him, face lighting up, and Flip can’t resist a smile when you’re so happy to see him like this.

His cowboy boots take him across the lobby and into your arms, and he’s immediately taking the weight of the basket that you’re carrying out of your hands, placing it gently on the floor so he can squeeze you tight with a hug and a kiss.

“Hey ketsl, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He pats your ass lovingly, before picking up the basket and leading you through the lobby back towards the rec room.

“Right back at you handsome, I hope you’re hungry, I brought you the biggest roast beef sandwich I could possibly make.” You wink at him, and like clockwork, his stomach growls, making him chuckle a little.

“You’re a fuckin’ miracle and a half, I’m starvin’ -- ”

Suddenly, you stop with a frown, looking through the little window of the door to the conference room as you pass by it.

“What’s going on in there?” You ask, pointing your thumb in the room’s direction, and Flip doesn’t know what you mean.

“Huh?”

“Is there a meeting that you’re missing?” You ask, and Flip frowns then, because he doesn’t think so anyway.

But save for Jimmy and Ron, it looks like the entire narcotics unit is crammed into the conference room, along with a handful of rookie cops, homicide detectives, janitors, and even some of the press. They’re all watching someone draw a big graph on the black board, the unmistakable sound of chalk squeaking punctuating the speaker’s passionate presentation.

“No, Chief would’ve said something...oh for fuck’s sake.” It takes Flip two seconds to recognize what’s on the chart, and immediately he’s shaking his head.

It’s a line graph, the Hot-Crazy Matrix, this new thing that’s got all the men in the country thinking they know everything about women. The gist is the hotter a woman is, the crazier she gets, and everything about it rubs Flip the wrong fuckin’ way, especially when he presses his ear against the door and listens in on what they’re actually saying.

“...If you find yourself in the Fun Zone, your main goal is to move out of the Fun Zone to a more permanent location.” “Now above the ‘crazy’ line, we have the Danger Zone. This is your redheads, your strippers, uh, anyone named Tiffany -- ”

“Hairdressers!” One of the men from the back of the room shouts.

“Yes, hairdressers, this is where your car gets keyed, your tires get slashed, and you wind up in jail. At this point you have to understand that this is not a static environment. This is a situation where you have got to use this matrix over time to develop some relatable data. At any moment in time, any woman that you have previously located on this chart can vanish, and reappear anywhere else on the chart.”

“Let me break this up really quick -- ” Flip reaches for the door with a dark scowl on his face, but you put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“No.” You look at him with wide, playful eyes, “No I think we should sit in on it, see what they say. Cause a little trouble.”

Flip loves the way you think, and with a sigh, he makes sure you stay behind him as you both slip through the door, unnoticed with how quiet you are. All eyes are on the blackboard as the speaker -- a greasy looking beat cop -- draws a line on the chart.

“Now, above an eight ‘hot’ and between a seven and a five ‘crazy’, this is your Wife Zone. When you meet this girl, you should consider a long term relationship. And if you find a woman who is below a five crazy, and above an eight hot, this is your Unicorn. We call them that because they do not exist. If you happen to find one, please uh let us know, we’d like to study it and try if we can, to replicate it.”

There’s a round of laughter from the crowd, and Flip can feel your hand tense in his own. He’s practically unable to hold himself back, when the cop finally sets down the chalk, dusts off his hands, and regards the room as someone else turns the lights back on.

“Anyone have any questions?” The cop asks, and Flip’s clearing his throat before he knows what he’s even doing.

“Yeah, hi.” Drawing all attention to him, Flip puts his hands on his hips, towers tall above all the other men in the room by at least three inches, and deadpans, “Have any of you actually spoken to a woman before? I mean, for longer than the two minutes it takes for them to reject you.”

That’s clearly not what the men in front of him were expecting, because they just blink, slackjawed like the morons they are.

“What?” The speaker asks, caught off guard.

Flip sighs, lights up a cigarette and crosses his arms over his chest, puffing out a big intimidating cloud of smoke.

“Show of hands, who here is married?” He waits, and predictably, no one comes forward. He knows this, because he knows all the married couples at the station. You make it a point to know them, anyway. “Okay then, well, who here has a girlfriend? Who here has ever had a girlfriend?”

Still no hands, and maybe Flip shouldn’t be surprised, the kind of men that believe this shit are the kind of men that either wind up alone or abusing poor women that they can manipulate into staying with them, and Flip doesn’t have the time or energy for it much longer.

“Interesting.” He muses, having made his point while the room murmurs amongst themselves.

One particularly stupid cop makes the mistake of trying to be a tough guy, some pipsqueak five-foot-four wannabe wrestler speaks up from near the front of the room, “We don’t need your condescending bullshit, okay, Zimmerman -- ”

“And women don’t need your bullshit charts splitting them into categories of fuckable or not, and yet here you are.” Flip cuts him off, and you feel a sense of pride blooming in your chest. Flip is a good boy, it’s why you married him after all.

“You’re only saying that because your wife is standing right next to you.” The cop tries to push his buttons, and maybe it’s because Flip hasn’t eaten yet, but anger itches up his spine, and soon the crowd is parting like the Red Sea, for Flip who is gunning straight for him.

“Oh yeah? How’d you think I got my wife you piece of shit? Because I promise it wasn’t by treating her like some shiny object to win.” Flip grabs the cop by the front of his uniform, and hoists him clean off the floor so that he can pull him up to eye level.

“Well then maybe you got lucky and married the only woman in Colorado Springs who isn’t a huge bitch.” The cop doesn’t know when to quit, does he?

“That’s not fucking true, my wife is a bitch and I love her for it.” Flip’s temper flares, and he’s about to raise his fist to punch this guy in the face, when he hears your voice from across the conference room where you’ve been watching with an amused smile.

“Flip, come on let’s go eat, lunch is getting cold.” You say, even though technically the sub sandwiches were supposed to be cold anyway. They don’t need to know that though.

Flip drops the schmuck, lets him fall to the floor with a thud, and walks towards your outstretched hand. Apparently that’s funny to the guy, because he slaps his knee and scoffs with a dry laugh.

“See? You’ve gone soft from love. Maybe we’re better off without it.” He tries to get the other guys to chime in, but they at least know what’s good for them, and instead just scratch the back of their necks, averting Flip’s gaze.

“I may be love’s bitch but at least I’m man enough to admit it.” Flip places his hand in yours, and you give his palm a tight reassuring squeeze. Looking down at you sweetly, he flicks the ash of his cigarette onto the floor and holds the door open for you leaving the conference room with a patronizing, “And at least I have a damn good woman to come home to. You losers enjoy your pity party.”

Finally in the rec room, you and Flip relax with Ron and Jimmy, your CSPD boys enjoying the big sub sandwiches you made and brought over. The little excursion in the conference room ate up only about fifteen minutes of Flip’s lunch hour, something that you and your husband are happy about. He’d be pissed off if he wasted any more time than that.

Everyone enjoyed the sandwiches and bottles of pop, most especially your Flip, who happily sat you down on his lap and wound his arms around you, feeling extra possessive.

“Out of curiosity, where in that chart would you put me?” You ask Flip, expecting him to take a couple moments to mentally weigh his options.

To your unamused surprise, Flip, Ron, and Jimmy all unanimously answer just about as soon as you’ve finished asking the damn question, not one of them even bothering to swallow their sandwich first before replying, “Danger Zone.”

“Hey!” You smack Flip’s chest with a scoff, and Ron and Jimmy immediately break out into laughter.

“You asked.” Jimmy points out with a shrug, just lucky that he’s out of your reach, lest he get smacked too. Ron also dips out of the way, but it’s only a moment later that Flip’s got his hold on you tighter, preventing you from swatting at your friends.

Flip holds you and kisses all over your cheek, his goatee tickling you as he presses his face against yours, nuzzling his nose against yours sweetly even though he’s basically just called you crazy.

“I married you anyway, didn’t I?” Flip’s big brown eyes try to sweeten the deal, and as much as you want to give him a hard time for being such a dork, you have to admit that it works.

“Thin ice, Zimmerman, thin ice.” You shake your head playfully, relaxing into Flip’s embrace a little as he settles you properly onto his lap again from where you were a wiggle worm, squirming away.

“You love me.” Flip smiles.

And despite it all you have to roll your eyes and grin because, “Yeah, I really do.”

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

-----

Tagging some Flip lovin’ friends! @mochabucky@sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions@direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux@kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow@babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks@materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @han68000@rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @loverofallthings@groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless@angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975@cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen@caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @caitlin-was-here @icarusinthesea

[sweet-symphony0]

Despair

  Hey hey, guess who’s back and finally had time to write! Happy Twin Tuesday! This one is...current, I’ll say. That’s all I’m going to say.

Summary: 01/06/2021. Rami and Sami can’t believe their eyes. They cope the only way they know how.

 Tags: @the-real-ramimalekpeen @xmxisxforxmaybe @killerqueengigi @txmel @laminy @ramimedley @rathernotmyname @ramilicious @sherlollydramoine @edteche2 @hah0106

---

Sami’s phone was ringing, he could hear it vibrating in his bag from he stood next to his desk, surveying his thirty students, their attention quickly diminishing. He ignored it, even as it rang a second time. 

“Alright guys-hey, don’t pack up yet, this is important-reading for tonight is chapter 12, your essays on Slaughterhouse Five are due Friday, so don’t forget.” There were groans heard from around the room, and Sami continued, “and no, I won’t be accepting any late papers; I gave you a month and a half for this. That’s more than generous, get it done.”

There were more groans and Sami smirked inwardly to himself as the bell rang and students began shuffling out the door, with a few calls of “see ya, Mr. Malek!” and Sami smiled. “Yeah, have a good day guys. Nice work today.”

When the last student was out the door, Sami took a moment to himself, glad he now had a free period before his next class. He cleared his throat, and began erasing the notes from the smartboard in preparation for the next round, when his phone vibrated and he remembered someone was trying to reach him, idly wondering what was so important that someone would call him at work.

Skimming his notifications, he frowned. Three texts from Rami, a missed call from him, and two texts from friends which he ignored for the time being, instead reading Rami’s messages:

“I know you’re at work, but you need to see this.” and underneath, in a separate message, a link to a CNN article that read “Rioters break windows and breach US Capitol.”

Sami stared, bewildered, and then read the third message Rami had sent.

“Turn on the news.”

Sami reread the headline, clicking the link Rami had sent, and he skimmed the article, his mind reeling.

“What the fuck...?”

Rami’s response was instant:

“You need to turn on the fucking news. Now.”

Sami wasted no time in rushing to the staff room, thanking his stars he had a break for the next forty minutes. It didn’t surprise him that nearly a quarter of the staff were already there, and he slipped inside, spotting a few of his colleagues from the English department. Even though the second bell had rung, no one in the room bothered to move, their eyes transfixed on the news coverage blaring from the TV. And as Sami turned his gaze to watch too, he felt his stomach sink in dread.

There were a cacophony of murmurs around the room, Sami catching tidbits here and there.

“What are we going to do?”

“There’s nothing we can do right now-”

“No, we can’t just-someone has to explain to the kids-”

“No, they’ll find out soon enough, we keep teaching like normal-”

“This is a high school,” one of Sami’s friends in the history department finally sighed tiredly. “You really think those kids don’t know by now? They have social media and cell phones. They know. And we can go about like usual, but this is something we’re all going to be talking about tomorrow.”

Sami’s eyes drifted back to the television, watching intently as he drowned everyone else out. They were inside the building now, hoards of them, a never ending sight. Sami watched with wide, disbelieving eyes, horrified as people scaled the building walls, smashed through windows, and he couldn’t help but think frantically: why wasn’t anyone doing anything?

He snorted to himself. Right. You know why.

He didn’t think he’d be able to go back to work after this. Slowly, one by one, his colleagues filtered out as most of them had classes to attend to that period and couldn’t push being late anymore. Once he was alone, Sami sank into one of the chairs, eyes glued to the newscast, feeling frozen from what he seeing.

He felt sick.

He texted Rami back and forth, a steady stream of furious conversation, not even realizing when the bell rang. Scrambling out of his seat, he rushed back to his room, just in time for when kids started filing in.

“Hi guys,” he pasted a smile on his face. “Settle down, and we’ll get started.”

He taught on autopilot, the forty minutes going by without him realizing, and before he knew it, kids were standing up and he was calling out the same thing from before: “read chapter twelve tonight, your essays are due Friday...”

Whatever previous intentions Sami had about sticking around the rest of the school day to get his work done, he threw right out the window. Racing home, he dug through his fridge for a beer, and then after better judgement, grabbed another, before he turned his TV on and called Rami.

Sami didn’t even let him say hi. “Are you safe?”

“Yeah,” Rami nodded. He was moving through his apartment, Sami could see, presumably to get to a quieter spot, and his gaze was off to the side, watching something. “I’m fine. Nothing here has happened yet, thankfully.”

“Listen,” Sami said urgently. “Stay inside okay? Don’t go out today if you don’t have to. You don’t-no one knows what will happen. Please.”

“I’m not moving,” Rami said. “I can’t-fucking after this, I can’t concentrate. I’m supposed to be rehearsing lines for tomorrow but fuck that. This is insane.”

Sami watched as the mob of people made their way inside the Rotunda, and he sank onto the couch. Then a few minutes later, they were inside the Senate chamber, pushing things around, and when he changed the channel to find another possible view, there was a photo up of a man carrying a confederate flag.

“Oh my fucking god.”

Rami’s voice was low. “I know. It gets worse.”

“Oh no, don’t say that.”

“They-they took down the American flag,” Rami said with barely restrained rage. “And replaced it. With a fucking Trump flag.”

Sami choked. “You’re not serious.”

“I wish I weren’t. And our president,” Rami scoffed. “is encouraging it. Fucking-” he stopped short, thinking for a moment on whether or not to complete what he wanted to say, before he shook his head in exasperation. “It’s all so exhausting.”

“That’s unconstitutional,” Sami murmured, flipping channels again, and he dropped his beer when he saw the constructed noose on the other side of the Capitol, staining the carpet, but he didn’t care. “Who is that for?! What the fuck!”

“What? What am I missing?”

Sami didn’t answer, still rooted on the spot, watching as officers finally brought out tear gas. “Fuck...is there any update on the Senators?”

“Not that I can tell. Though they are saying a few Republican ones are agreeing with this bullshit.”

Suddenly everything clicked, and Sami realized why today, of all days, this was happening. As he watched the coverage of Trump’s tweet, the rally earlier that morning, he idly wondered how much damage had already been caused, and whatever else he’d missed.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” he sighed, and Rami chuckled flatly.

“I’ve had a bottle of wine open for the last hour. Wish you were here to join me.”

“Well,” Sami stood up, grimacing at the mess he’d made from the spilled beer. “I can join you from afar. What are you drinking?” Rami gave him the name of a Cabernet they were both fond of, and Sami grinned triumphantly when he found a spare bottle in the back of his wine cooler. Propping his phone up on the counter against the block of chopping knives, he made quick work in opening and pouring himself a generous glass. “Cheers, man.”

“Cheers. What are we cheers-ing to?”

Sami hummed, licking the bit of wine that had dripped down his finger. “To the compete and utter fuckery that has been...the six days of this new year.”

“That works,” Rami was silent for a moment, both of them lost in their thoughts, watching the news again. “You know, I...obviously after the last four years there’s been a lot of unrest and contempt. But to this extent, for thousands of people to..to believe-”

“Say an election is rigged and then stop the process in almost every way they can?” Sami took a generous sip of his wine. “To destroy the Capitol? Yeah. I know.”

“Unbelievable,” Rami said succinctly, and after a moment: “I should’ve stayed in London.”

“They’re not much better,” Sami snickered, glancing at his twin. “Besides, London doesn’t have me.”

Rami laughed. “You think I plan my life around you?”

“What, you mean you don’t? I’m shocked. That hurts.”

“Definitely not,” Rami smirked and Sami laughed.

“Alright hot shot, don’t let that hair gel go to your brain too. There’s enough on your head already.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Rami was grinning, and Sami grinned back.

“Just trying to keep you humble, you know. I don’t give a shit if you have a shiny gold toy now.”

“Wow,” Rami muttered. “You wish your hair looked as good.”

“A greasy mess? Yeah, no thanks.”

Rami laughed again, and Sami grinned, pleased at the fact, sipping his wine again as they turned back to the news. “Fuck, it really is a shit show isn’t it?”

“I’ve always said he would leave the White House, but he’ll burn it down with him as he goes.”

“Yeah,” Sami sighed, his anger boiling all over again. “Looks like it. I wish you were wrong.”

“Me too.”

Glancing at the clock, he saw it had been a hour since he’d gotten home, which meant it was around 4pm on the east coast. Tuning back to the coverage, the mob outside the Capitol had grown, more people were scaling the wall to get inside, and Sami couldn’t help but think how all too easy it was for them.

“So uh...where’s the tear gas? The rubber bullets? The arrests?”

Rami snorted. “You’re fucking kidding, right? C’mon. Like that applies to them.”

Sami snorted too, and then laughed weakly, which turned into a laughing fit, and he could hear Rami calling his name. “Sorry...it’s just...fuck all of them.”

Rami raised his glass in a toast before he downed it in one go, pouring another serving. “Amen.”

“God, how am I supposed to explain this to my kids? You’re telling me I have to go to work tomorrow after this?”

“Same here,” Rami said. He was moving again, and Sami could see he was back in the kitchen too, digging through his refrigerator. He produced a bunch of grapes, a platter of salami, and a block of cheddar cheese, and Sami watched as he began to assemble an antipasti platter for one. “I don’t want to head to work. Seems pointless, after this.”

Sami bit his lip thoughtfully. “It’s not...useless. Use it. You’re angry-”

“Angry? No, I’m well passed pissed off at this point.”

“There you go. Use it, use that rage towards your scenes and whatever your character is. It’s...” Sami shrugged meekly at Rami, who was watching him intently. “It’s the only thing we can do at times like this, right?”

“I suppose,” Rami muttered, a tired expression on his face, and popped a grape into his mouth. He turned around, opening the fridge again and came back holding some hummus and olives in his hand. “I imagine it’ll be the only thing anyone will talking about for the next week. Rightfully so.” He opened the olives, laying a few of them out next to the salami, and stuck the jar back into the fridge. 

Sami was bemused. “How much are you eating?”

“As much as it takes to get through this shit show. I’m supposed to be on a diet right now, but I don’t give a shit. If I’m going to wine and dine watching this, I might as well do it properly.”

“Now I really wish I were there.”

“Yeah, me too. It would make it more bearable. But...this will do for now.”

Sami went silent, watching the TV again, which was now reporting about gunshots and a woman wounded. “Jesus Christ.”

Rami was muttering under his breath. “Shit, shit, shit, shit-”

They didn’t speak after that, both of them too lost in watching the news coverage, and Sami gripped his glass tightly as took a breath in to ease his anxiety.

Swallowing, he poured another glass, knowing he wouldn’t be finishing the bottle, and instead capped it and placed it in the fridge for tomorrow. It was an odd feeling, one that “scared” wouldn’t be able to cover. It was a looming, threatening feeling; something like this was so deeply entrenched in the fabric of the country. It wasn’t something that would go away on January 20th, as much as he wished for that. He wasn’t surprised that people had so much hatred for anyone other than themselves were coming out of the woodwork, blindly following what their commander in chief told them. The repercussions of this day would be something that would take a long time to repair.

“I’m tired,” he said suddenly. Rami’s voice was quiet, and though Sami didn’t elaborate, Rami seemed to understand what he meant perfectly.

“I know. So am I.”

---

When the crowds eventually thinned out, and Sami went back to work the next morning, he read the highlights of things he’d missed, flipping through the photos of the wreckage before the first period bell rang. When students trickled in, he was met with a sea of somber faces, and he knew he wouldn’t be teaching his regular lesson plans for the day. He felt enraged all over again.

Instead, he hopped up onto his desk, sitting cross legged and observing his students. “Alright. I would be...a very poor educator if I didn’t bring up what happened yesterday to all of you. And I know you’ll hear about it later in the day, I’m sure, but what we do here as teachers affects you guys for the rest of your lives. Now I don’t really care if you can’t tell me the imagery themes in The Great Gatsby, but I do care if you can’t think for yourselves. You’ll be reading and hearing a lot different things in the next coming weeks from people who think they’re right. And you’re all old enough, in my opinion, to have your own opinions on this. That being said, we all know what the banned book list is, correct?”

There were students nodding, and Sami nodded too, and he hopped off the desk to pull said list up. “Good. Pick a book from here, read it. There’s a reason all these books are banned from certain school curriculum, and I want you guys to pick one, and tell me why. It’s January. For every book you manage to get through from now till June, if you give me a one page analysis on your thoughts, I’ll give you extra credit that counts towards your final.” His students perked up at that, and he smiled inwardly. “Five points for every book, sound good?” There were murmurs of approval, and Sami continued, “it’s not mandatory, so don’t feel pressured to this. But I would...appreciate it if you did.”

“What if we read them all?” Someone asked.

There was always one.

Sami’s lips quirked up in amusement. “Good luck. You’ll notice there’s plenty of books on there we’ve read already.”

His students started chattering excitedly, and Sami cleared his throat, glancing at his copy of The Color of Water, which is what they were studying now. They would be finishing that tomorrow, the test for it was Monday, something which Sami had to make over the weekend. He hadn’t decided what to teach next, his gaze drifting to the copies of To Kill A Mockingbird in the back of the classroom, which was what he was planning to start Monday, after the kids took their test.

He debated on it, and then Rami’s words came back to him from the night before.

“He’ll leave the White House, but he’ll burn it down with him as he goes.”

He cleared his throat. “Guys, we’re just going to finish reading for the rest of the period, and we’ll go over the whole book for tomorrow before your test. So if you’ve got your books, take ‘em out.”

Later, once his classes were over for the day, he headed to the library, intent on finding Maria and asking for his next lesson plans.

“Hey Sami,” she greeted. “Back again? How’d they fare with Color of Water?”

“Not bad,” Sami said. “We’re finishing it up, test is Monday.”

“So, you’re here for Mockingbird?”

“No I’ve got Mockingbird,” he murmured, scanning the bookshelves. “That was what I was going to go with originally, but I’ve had a change of heart. Do you know if any of the faculty is teaching Orwell at the moment?”

“The freshmen, some of them are doing Animal Farm. But none of the AP classes right now. Which one?”

Sami spotted what he was looking for, and based on the piles of books they had, no one else had taught it yet, or he was late to the game.

“1984.”

[threeletterslife]

03 | Redefining Destiny

→ previous | next

→ summary: You were convinced you were in love with him. A former member of the mafia in the states, that is. It was true love. Destiny. Until one day you wake up with a memory lapse; then that love is replaced with hatred. The thought of marriage is substituted with revenge. If your love with Jeon Jungkook really was destiny, you’d fall head over heels in love again. But if only he weren’t such a hot, goading asshole.

→ pairing/rating: jungkook x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 70% fluff, 25% crack, 5% angst | e2l!au & soulmate!au

→ warnings: profanity, graphic depictions of blood, pain and torture, brief mention of sexual activities (but yn’s too innocent to understand yikes), smoking and strip clubs

→ wordcount: 3.5k

Jungkook isn't too particularly fond of working at the burger parlor—the greasy smell of the french fries and burgers boggles his senses the more he is stuck in the hot kitchen. And just as he thought it couldn't get worse, it did. You walk in with about twenty of your annoying friends.

All of you are talking so loudly that Jungkook can hear you from his place behind the counter.

"Dude, Y/N's totally gonna get accepted."

"I mean, if she doesn't, who would, though?"

"Exactly!"

"Interning abroad is literally the best kind of experience, Y/N. You're so lucky!"

Jungkook rolls his eyes when he hears your chirpy voice. "Aw, guys! The results aren't even out yet!" you giggle. "But fingers crossed, right?"

Too bad Jungkook's on cashier duty at this time of day. Luck just was never on his side. You scrunch your brows and make a grossed-out face when you finally catch sight of Jungkook behind the counter.

"I didn't know you worked here," you say, frowning. Your army of friends rolls their eyes, murmuring their agreements about how shitty Jungkook is. "Don't know how I feel about you handling my food."

Jungkook glares at you. "I'll fucking spit in your food so you feel extra welcomed here."

You gasp, hands flying to your lips in mock shock. "Screw you, Jeon," you snort. "Hope you're having the best of luck getting laid these days." You have the audacity to give him a teasingly flirtatious wink. Jungkook almost gags.

"Fuck you. Hope your ethics grade looks immaculate," he fires back.

You almost lurch forward to hurl something at Jungkook's face, but luckily, your friends latch onto you, preventing you from hurting the pissed-off man. "Y-You know what?!" you shout, struggling in your friends' grasps. "You know the frick what, Jeon? I can always raise my ethics grade! But you can't save that horrible reputation of yours even if someone dangled a solution in front of your face!"

Jungkook's never felt this much hatred for one single person in his life. And that's saying a lot, considering he's been in the mafia for nearly seven years.

"If you don't want to order food, I suggest you leave," he says coldly, glaring at you through slitted eyes.

You don't back down. "I'm going to order, idiot—"

"Fucking order, then," Jungkook sneers.

"I was going to!" you yell. "Until you so rudely interrupted me. Ahem," you say, clearing your throat. "So, I'll have fourteen small french fries, unsalted. Eight vanilla milkshakes. Four chocolate milkshakes. One strawberry milkshake. Hold the Maraschino cherry on all of those... Um, seventeen cheeseburgers, four hamburgers... And twenty-one cups of water. Get it to me stat," you demand.

"What a hog," Jungkook scoffs under his breath.

"Excuse me?" you say. "Did you just call me a hog?"

"Yes. Why yes I did," Jungkook bites back.

"Where's your manager?" you threaten. "Do you need me to call the manager?"

Deep breath in... Deep breath out... Jungkook clenches his fists, gritting his teeth as he stays silent. No need for his manager to get involved in this craptastic madness. Although he'd love to say something snarky back to you, he can't risk his job, so Jungkook bites his lip and ignores your comment. "That'll be ₩132,465," he mumbles.

"Sorry, what? I didn't hear you," you sing.

"₩132,465," Jungkook says louder, glaring at you as you smile smugly at him. It's taking him so much control to not lunge at you and make you regret ever messing with him.

"Alright!" you giggle. "Let me just... count this out—" You pull out your wallet, which is loaded with more money than Jungkook probably has in his savings. "One... Two... Three," you begin, painstakingly slowly counting the bills as Jungkook waits impatiently.

Just to spite you, when you hand him the money, he recounts the bills so he can waste your time. The two of you glare at each other even as Jungkook hands you the receipt. You snatch it from his hands, never losing eye contact with him as you begin to walk away from the ordering counter.

Jungkook continues to glare at the back of you as you settle down with your friends in the biggest seats at the burger parlor.

God, he hates you so much. It irks him that you were so very popular as well. What the fuck did your friends even see in you?? Jungkook glares at you (as you remain oblivious) the whole time you stay.

Your friends are like your brainless followers, cheering you on for your amazing academic accomplishments. Jungkook scoffs. If he had the money you had, he'd be educationally apt, too. The only thing that keeps him from completely blowing is that he tells himself he had been richer than you at one point.

And it was true. At just the tender age of twenty-three, Jungkook had known the luxurious life of extravagant parties, shiny, black limousines and rich delicacies that melted on his tongue. He had known wealth, lived in it. But that had been taken away from him, of course. Everything he ever knew and loved had been. You were a bitch for ruining his life more than it already was ruined.

When you and your friends finally leave the parlor after hours and hours of chortling and giggling and laughing, Jungkook breathes a sigh of relief. His eyes had been starting to hurt from all that glaring. He grumbles, making his way over to your table to clean up the mess—but you and your friends were surprisingly neat eaters.

Quietly, Jungkook takes the trays and scrubs down the table, working mindlessly and quickly. But he notices something yellow and sparkly on the seats. A... handbag?

One of the girls must've left it. Jungkook sighs, finishing up his cleaning and holding up the bag with two fingers. He assumes whoever left it would come back for it... But meanwhile...

Old habits die hard, indeed. He had always been such a kleptomaniac in his Crescent days, and that still hasn't changed. He reaches his hand into the expensive-looking yellow purse and finds a phone. Huh. It looks brand-new—the latest model of the iPhone that had come out just two weeks ago. The one that cost way too much for a hunk of metal that was supposed to make calls and texts. He taps the screen, curiously and almost flings the phone away in disgust.

He's met with a lock screen photo of you taking a selfie with two other girls. Narcissistic, much? He practically throws the phone back into your bag and fishes out your high-end wallet. There are wads of bills in there, which tempts Jungkook to take just a few of them... He grits his teeth. No more stealing. Not after leaving the Crescents. Jungkook shoves the wallet back into the bag and looks around the nearly empty burger parlor.

Maybe he should just toss the purse in the trash. He'd love to see you come back into the parlor and frantically dig through the dump, breaking your precious nails and dirtying your expensive little clothes. But he sighs. He doesn't really want to stoop that low...

Jungkook tosses the purse on the counter and begins to work on closing up the parlor, scrubbing the other tables, mopping the floors and turning off the kitchen lights. The last of the customers are leaving and the place is starting to become quiet.

Until the door slams open and you walk in with a fury.

"Where is it?!" you huff.

"Parlor's closed," Jungkook scoffs. "Leave."

You ignore him, catching sight of your precious purse sitting on the counter and making a bee-line towards it. "Sunny!" you shriek.

"Sunny?" Jungkook laughs, rolling his eyes. "Did you name your fucking purse?"

You ignore him again, frantically digging through your purse and pulling out your wallet. You glare at Jungkook as you slowly begin to count the bills.

"I didn't touch anything," he lies. "Why would I steal dirty money?"

"I don't know, because you're a horrible human being?" you scoff. "At least you didn't throw it in the trash..." you mutter to yourself.

"Oh, I was going to," Jungkook says.

You glare at him before turning on your heals and strutting out of the parlor with your showy, yellow purse in hand.

Not even a fucking 'thank you.'

You might be the rudest person Jungkook's ever met. It's such a pity he's always bumping into you.

"T-Taehyung," Jungkook stutters quietly, reaching forward in the dark shadows to his dying friend.

'No,' Taehyung mouths as he catches sight of Jungkook in the darkness. 'Run for your life. I'll be fine.'

Jungkook shakes his head, tears staining his cheeks as he watches Taehyung bleed from his mouth, a steady stream of blood running down from his head too, where the intruders had kicked him.

'Leave, JK,' Taehyung pleads soundlessly. 'They don't know you're here. You still have a chance to live.'

Jungkook shakes his head again, letting out a silent sob from his lips. 'No!' he mouths aggressively. 'I'm not going to leave you.'

'If you stay with me, they'll kill you.' Taehyung gives Jungkook a bloody, toothless grin. 'I'll hold them off so you can escape. I've got a bit of strength left in me.'

'You're dying, Tae,' Jungkook sobs. 'You're dying.'

'I'm strong, JK. I think I can handle a few more knife scathings. Leave.' Taehyung bravely grins at Jungkook, but Jungkook can see the tears welling up in his friend's eyes. 'Please... leave.'

'Tae...'

'You won't forget me, right JK? But you're going to live the rest of your life without missing me too much, right JK?'

'Tae!'

Taehyung coughs up blood but keeps his signature mischievous smile on his face.

"What the fuck are you smiling about?" a gruff voice barks. He kicks Taehyung's head to the side, causing the poor man to cry out in pain. "I'll kill you slowly as you did to my friends. You'll regret you're still breathing when I'm done with you."

Jungkook holds back a choked sob. He can't watch anymore. He can't.

"LEAVE!" Taehyung shrieks, blood splattering everywhere. Jungkook knows that had been for him.

"You want me to leave, you pathetic motherfucker?" the intruder laughs. "We're in for a long ride, then."

Jungkook wakes up upside down on his bed, the blankets on the floor and the sheets completely soaked with sweat. He cries, covering his face with his hands. He cries for his best friend. He cries because he didn't save him. He cries because he had to leave him to die.

"Right, JK?"

Taehyung's playful voice echoes in Jungkook's head over and over again.

"Right, Tae," Jungkook manages to whisper against the sheets.

He is such a mess, shaking and sobbing from the memories. It almost seems like it had happened yesterday with the vividness of his dream. He wishes Taehyung were here to comfort him. Taehyung would ask if he wanted to smoke a fat blunt or take a trip to the strip club with the money he 'borrowed' from Namjoon... Taehyung would know how to comfort him. Taehyung would tell him to man-up and stop sobbing like a big baby about it.

Jungkook shudders, sniffling as he slowly gets up from his bed to find the covers that had fallen to the floor. He adjusts his pillows, wipes his tears away with the back of his hand and gets back in bed, manuring his feet so it doesn't touch the wet spot on the sheets where his tears and sweat had accumulated throughout the night. He's still breathing hard and shaking slightly from the remnants of the bad dream.

But he tries to fall back asleep by putting happy thoughts in his head. Those days when he and Taehyung had done everything together... Those days when he thought his future would be with the Crescents... Those good days...

You wake up with a loud gasp, head jerking forward as you sit up immediately. Your roommates are still sleeping soundly, thank goodness, but you can't stop the queasy feeling swelling in your stomach. Maybe your period is a whole two weeks early?? But your cycles are always regular...

The darkness of the dorm room makes you feel weirdly lonely—even with your two friends near you, sleeping in their own beds. Your alarm clock glows a magnificent shade of green; the numbers 3:27 staring back at your perplexed face. You're supposed to wake up early for a study group session in the library, and this little awakening would surely ruin your chances of ever getting to the session early for once.

You try to suppress the foreign feeling in your stomach by tucking yourself back in bed, curling up in a fetal position. Maybe you were starting to contract the stomach flu??

You're confused because sleep has never really been a problem for you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you hope lying still in the dark will help you drift back to sleep. But the attempt is futile. So you lay in bed, keeping your eyes closed as you mumble a few prayers for your friends and family. Miraculously, once you finish, you're tired again, and the weird feeling that had woken you up is gone.

It just must be one of those nights, you think before falling asleep.

You wake up at 10 a.m. in the morning with leisure. Sitting up slowly and taking the time to stretch out your arms and straighten your back. The sun is strangely high in the sky, you notice as you yawn and rub your eyes. When you finally glance over at your alarm clock, your eyes turn wide.

"Frick!" you yell as you realize you're the only person left in the dorm room. You're late to the study session... again.

In record time, you brush your teeth, tie your hair and a bun and throw on some clothes strewn on your desk chair (hoping the colors don’t clash too much) and rush out with your backpack in hand—you pray that everything you need is in there and your laptop is charged enough to last three hours.

You blindly run across your campus before reaching the library and quickly scanning the tables to see if the study group had started without you. But you recognize only one person in the study group sitting alone at your usual table in the corner behind the American literature section. He's quietly reading his notes with his laptop already perched right next to him. The way he looks up prepped and ready disgusts you.

"Jeon. Jungkook," you say, gritting your teeth as you slide in the chair across from him.

"God, no," he replies, seeing you and rolling his eyes. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"What do you mean?" you spit back at him. "I'm in your study group. We've been in the same study group for months."

"Oh," Jungkook scoffs. "Must've slipped my mind because you're so irrelevant."

"How dare y—"

"You look like you had a rough morning," he interrupts you.

You eye him up and down, glaring at him through slitted eyes. But you self-consciously tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, patting the bun sitting on the top of your head to make sure no stray hairs were awkwardly sticking out. Your random choice of clothes doesn't look as bad as you thought either—you'd thankfully grabbed a pair of denim shorts and a slightly wrinkled black t-shirt.

Funny that Jungkook was commenting on your obvious hastily prepared appearance when he looked just as unprepared as you.

"Well, you look like you had a rough night," you say. "Dark circles look good on you, Jeon. Ugliness suits you."

"I was up studying," he answers without missing a beat. "What were you doing? Naming your other purses?"

"Shut up."

"Whatever."

You give him one last rude look before starting to unpack your study materials. Yes! you cry in your head when your laptop wakes up with a solid 47% battery left. You slam your notebook down the table, looking at Jungkook as you do so. He acts as if he sees right through you.

"So," you sigh. "Where the heck is everyone else?"

"Would it fucking kill you to cuss?" Jungkook rolls his eyes. "I feel like I'm babysitting you." But one death threatening glare from you has him answering your question. "Maybe they ditched."

"I can't believe we're the only two responsible students," you sigh. "I expected better."

"Maybe they have something better to do than study ethics in broad daylight in a quiet, boring ol' library," Jungkook says.

"I can name a thousand things on the spot that would be better than studying ethics with you," you say. "But look where I am. I still came."

"Fine. You win a fuckin' gold star, Y/N," Jungkook says, scoffing. "What do you want me to do, give you brownie points?"

It's annoying how he never backs down to you, always having something snarky to say up his sleeve. And it boggles your mind that he's usually so quiet around everyone else. You're the only one he so actively speaks to—but you'd rather not have it that way because the longer you sit and waste your time with the insulting repartee between you and Jungkook, the more likely you would get a hemorrhage from the stress alone.

"Just—" you sigh, pausing to rest your hand on your face. "Just, shut up, Jeon. Let's study."

"That's what I wanted to do the whole time," Jungkook says. "Before you—"

"I will wack you with my textbook," you say. "Wow. Wouldn't have thought you were into pain play, Y/N," Jungkook snorts.

"Pain what?"

"Never mind," Jungkook sighs. "Whatever. Let's review the notes."

"Okay, fine," you huff. "And I recorded the professor's lecture so we can listen to that too."

Jungkook scrunches his eyebrows. "Ugh, what a try-hard."

"Excuse me?" you say, actually a bit offended. "Fine, I'm a try-hard, but unlike you, I'm gonna be so freaking successful. While you're still here, I'll be interning abroad to become a lawyer."

"Oh yeah?" Jungkook says as he raises his eyebrows. "I was already pretty fucking successful in America. Lived in a mansion... owned a high-end car..."

You snort. "What'd you do? Steal all that money?" you joke.

"You could say that," Jungkook says in a dead-serious voice.

You roll your eyes in response, amazed that he was able to take a lie that far. "I heard you dropped out of college before you came to Korea. What are you, 30 years old?"

Okay, maybe that was exaggerated. Jungkook doesn't look a day older than 22; it infuriates you that his skin is so soft and crystal clear and his hair seems to bounce up in natural curls. Dang it. Yoojung is right. It makes me madder that he's actually good-looking. You would never admit this out loud to anyone, though.

"Nice try, genius," Jungkook says. "I'm 27."

"At least you're not in your thirties," you sniffle, upturning your nose and furiously flipping in the pages of your notes to find the latest lecture.

"Is there anything wrong with dropping out?" Jungkook asks. "Damn. How far do these rumors go?"

You huff. "Rumors spread faster than wildfire. And I don't care if you dropped out or not if you can catch up on our studies now. Just ugh, I'm embarrassed I'm literally being seen with you right now. Let's hurry up and finish." "So I'm an embarrassment, now?"

"Yes. And you can't say otherwise or try to argue with me," you say, lifting one of your eyebrows. "Because I know I'm right."

"And you want to become a lawyer? If you knew you were right, you'd definitely have a better argument than that."

You let out a silent, frustrated scream in your head. "My gosh, just please, shut up," you mumble as you unlock your phone for the first time this morning to escape Jungkook's immature insults. That's when you see hundreds of unread messages.

"Oh my gosh," you groan. "Ohh my goshhh. They switched the location! And I didn't see until now!"

"What?" Jungkook says as he whips out his own phone and scrolls through his messages. "Fuck," he curses. "Why were we the only ones who didn't see this?"

"I know," you say. "It could've been me, you and someone else. Better yet, me and two other people. Anything would've been better than this." You sigh, slamming your laptop shut and shoving your study materials back into your backpack.

"Where are you going now?" Jungkook says, sighing.

You shoot him a glare. "Where do you think?" you sass before walking away without another word.

Man, Jungkook sucks, and your patience and ability to forgive is tested over and over again when you coincidentally meet him literally everywhere you go. It's infuriating. But what can you do about it?

—previous | next

—masterpost

[amukmuk]

3 or 46 for foxiyo, for the writing prompt thing, if that's alright?

Of course!! Thank you so much @flyawaybluebirdie for sending a prompt! I actually ended up combining them because I love a challenge. 

For the Prompts Touch & Blanket | Ao3

One

Fox stands at the landing pad, ready to welcome yet another freshly elected senator. As if he doesn’t have enough to do as it is, he also serves as the resident tour guide for all the shiny senators. Beneath his bucket, he rolls his eyes.

As the ramp lowers on the Pantoran ship, Senator Riyo Chuchi appears. He has read her file, acquainted himself with her appearance to ensure that he isn’t welcoming separatist scum with open arms. But, for some reason, Fox is shocked by how small she is. She’s petite and blue and looks like she wants to be just here as much as Fox does.

“Senator. Welcome to Coruscant,” Fox greets. He stands at formal parade rest and prepares for her to brush him off because he’s just a clone, and that’s what every other senator does.

“Thank you.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Riyo Chuchi.”

He stares at her hand, her fingers are slender and are adorned with petite golden rings. Slowly, probably resembling a robot that he is thought to be, he takes her hand. “Commander Fox, ma’am.”

“Lovely to make your acquaintance, Commander.” She says as she gives his hand a few shakes up and down.

“Likewise, Senator,” he states and for the first time in his life, he thinks he may actually mean those words.

Two

There is a knock at his door and Fox instantly feels homicidal. If someone is coming in here to tell him that he is late on the paperwork he is filling out right now he’s going to kill them. He would have been done by now except he had to keep taking breaks to babysit the damned, shiny Senators. “Enter,” he growls.

“Hi Commander,” Senator Chuchi is standing at his door, holding a tin can of something .

Oh no .

Please don’t let this be a package she was delivered. They will have to lock down the whole area, the bombsquad will be called in and then he really won’t get this paperwork done.

Wearing a smile that only worsens his anxiety, she enters his cluttered, supply closet-sized office and stands in front of his desk.  

“Can I help you with something, Senator?” He bites.

Her smile falters. “I just wanted to say thank you. I know you’re busy, but I just wanted to properly thank you for showing me around. Without you, I would be, in quite the literal sense of the word, lost.”

He stares at her. Thanking him? Thanking him?  

She clears her throat and shifts her weight back and forth between her feet. “Anyway, thanks.” She thrusts the tin box at him. “I baked some traditional Pantoran cookies. They’re my favorite.”

Hesitant, he accepts the box from her, their fingers brushing. To his surprise, however, she doesn’t flinch away from his accident touch. Most senators do. “Thanks… This is very nice of you.”

She beams. “Anyway, I will let you get back to work. It was lovely seeing you again, Commander.” And she darts away, leaving Fox standing in his office staring down at a tin of cookies like they may hold the meaning of life.

Three

Fox breathes a sigh of relief as the elevator door closes. If he is being honest with himself, he is not doing well. He hasn’t slept in three days and he is getting really tired of senators referring to him as just ‘clone’ or whatever other derogatory terms they come up with. Finally, in the peaceful quiet of an empty, descending elevator - he is alone. He slouches, his back aching from standing impossibly straight all day.

To his absolute and total dismay, the elevator lurches and the doors slide open, revealing Senator Chuchi. Her face lights up immediately and Fox feels nothing but dread. Normally, he can partake in some chipper small talk that she likes to make, but he is tired and he just wants to get to his office so he can take a shot of brandy and fall asleep on his desk.

“Hello, Commander!” She chirps as she steps into the elevator.

“Senator,” he greets with a nod.

“How are you today?” He’s gotten used to her asking this question. The first time she had asked, his brain had almost stopped working altogether. Now, he has a canned response.

“I’m fine, ma’am, and you?”

“Doing well, thank you.”

Silence falls between them as the floors tick down.

“You seem like you have a lot on your mind, Fox. Are you sure you are alright?”

He looks over at her. He is always ready for everything, but Riyo always seems to catch him off guard. “What?”

“I’m sorry, I do not mean to pry, how rude of me.”

The elevator dings; they’ve reached her floor.

Placing a gentle hand upon his upper arm, she says, “I hope whatever is troubling you passes easily and without grief. Have a wonderful day, Commander.”

The doors are already sliding shut when he musters up the coherency to tell her to have a good day as well.

Four

Fox signs his number for the last time and exhales a heavy sigh of relief. Senator Chuchi had asked if she could stop by for lunch and while he had initially told her no, after about a week of her asking, he finally conceded. Now he finds himself rushing to get his work done so that she can still come by.

When she knocks on the door, he straightens up his desk haphazardly and calls for her to enter.

She stands there with multiple bags of food and a tray of drinks. “Good afternoon, Fox. How are you today?”

“I’m fine, thank you. How are you?” He pulls his chair around to the other side of the desk for her to sit in. It’s not the most comfortable thing, but it is a far cry better than his guest chair that has a broken leg and wobbles enough to make even him a little seasick sitting in it.

“I’m doing quite wonderfully now,” she smiles, and puts her bags on top of his desk, minding the datapads. “I hope you enjoy greasy diner food. Ahsoka showed me this place called Dex’s and while it is in absolute violation of every health code, his food is amazing. I got a couple things. I didn’t know what you liked.”

“I’ll eat anything, ma’am.”

“Fox, how many times do I need to tell you to call me Riyo? We’re friends!” She lightly smacks his wrist and he lets himself smile.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s a habit.”

Five

The unnatural warmth and claminess of his right hand pulls him into consciousness. Blinking awake, he is welcomed by the harsh fluorescent lights above him. He groans and rolls his head over to the right, eyeing the culprit guilty of ruining the first good night’s sleep he’s gotten in months. A small smile creeps to his lips when he sees Riyo fast asleep at the edge of his cot, his hand entrapped in hers.

“Riyo?” He whispers and she sits bolt upright, releasing his hand - much to his own dismay - and straightening her hair.

“Fox. I’m so glad you are alright.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” he huffs, suddenly aware of the ribs broken by the blast.  

“Good, you’re a very dear friend. I would be lost without you.”

He takes her in. She looks like she has hardly slept and her hair is sticking up out of her golden headpiece. He has an overwhelming urge to reach up and tuck it back to where it belongs. He has so many things he wants to say, like that she’s his friend too and that he would be lost without her too because she is the only good thing he has. “Thank you,” he whispers instead, hoping his meaning is still relayed.

Her eyes widen. “For what?”

“For staying,” he whispers, turning his hand over as an invitation for her to hold it again.

Luckily she catches on and does. “You’re very welcome.”

+ One

Honestly, she shouldn’t be surprised that their ship got shot down. When the gunship crashed into the snow, she had thought that it was the end - she had finally died. But then she comes to with Fox shaking her awake.

“Riyo. Riyo!”

She blinks a couple times. “I’m fine. I’m awake,” she swats him away.

He lets out a harsh exhale and his shoulders fall from his ears just a pinch. “We need to move out. Seppies may come to scout the wreckage.”

She nods. “Any survivors?”

“Just you and me. Can you stand?”

Easing herself up she gives him another nod, “Yes. I’m alright. Where do we go?”

“Scanners picked up some caves over to the east. If we move quickly we should make it by nightfall.”

“Okay. Lead the way, Commander.”

With a grunt, he heaves a pack onto his back and pulls himself out of the overturned gunship. She tries not to look at the twisted and contorted bodies at her feet as she accepts his hand and is hauled out. The icy wind of this planet takes her breath away and she gasps.

“Sure you’re alright?” He questions.

In the daylight, she sees the way he is hunched forward slightly, cradling one arm closer to himself than normal. His armor is significantly more scratched and some of the red paint has been chipped off. “I should be asking the same to you.”

He shrugs with the arm he isn’t cradling. “I’ll live.”

“Then I will as well. Let us find these caves.”

They walk in tense silence. When they finally reach an ominous opening to the belly of a mountain, he turns on the lights attached to his helmet and enters. “No life signs. We should be safe here for the night. I sent out a distress signal when we crashed. A squadron will be here by tomorrow morning.”

“That is good news,” she manages through a shiver. It is so, so cold here. Wrapping her arms around herself she tries to suppress even more convulsions.

“I have a blanket, and,” he trails off pulling his pack off of his back. “A small heater. It probably has enough juice to last until pick up. I haven’t seen anything around here that we could burn.”

Night falls quickly and it makes Riyo desperately wish for the sun. If Fox is cold, he isn’t showing it - at least not in the same convulsive manner that she is. She can hardly keep her teeth from chattering. They each have a blanket; she has knees folded up so that the blanket fully envelops her and he has his draped around his shoulders. Wordlessly, Fox rises, shrugging off the blanket, and begins pulling off his armor. He hisses a little when he moves his injured arm and then he is wrapping himself back up in the blanket and crossing the cave floor.

He eases himself down next to her and opens his arms. “Come here,” he grunts.

She doesn’t need to be told twice.

Oh and he is so warm. She drapes her blanket over their legs and he wraps his around their arms. He pulls her into his chest and she folds herself tightly around him. Never in her life has she felt safer than she has in his arms.

“This is nice,” Riyo murmurs.

Fox hums in the affirmative and runs his hands through her hair. “Yeah, this is nice.”

She falls asleep like this, curled in his arms, his fingers in her hair, and waiting for help to come in the morning.

[lordxgrinnyxboy]

rewatching tgm for the umpteenth time: wifi's not working edition 1/?

ngl i've Never, In My LIFE, done any singing or acting outside of puppet shows when i was in like the 3rd grade but every time i watch TGM i'm more and more like "GOD i wanna be cast as Barkilphedro" and i don't even know why? like why would i want to be the greasy clown nasty? He has No Rights? I Don't Like Him Or Sympathize With Him At All? And Yet???? It must be a calling.

there's like. two barrels on the stage.

uggggggh i love Ensemble!Maskell and Ensemble!Obianyo they're both so pretty

FEEL SO LOW YOUR PULSE NEEDS CHECKING

ngl Barkilphedro has No Rights and he gets No Sympathy from me but i do feel sorry for him when he talks about his mother. also sucks for him that he wasted so much time hoping his loyalty to Clarence would pay off, only to get nothing but mockery in return. also also as 'comical' as the Erotic Breakfast Dance scene is played it's still...really gross and Not Okay. This dude's 100% culpable for his actions and he made his own choices and is absolutely slimy but it's like those bits in LotR when they talk about Bilbo pitying Gollum. idk i just kinda hate that ol' Barky let himself be twisted into such a wretched creature. He crossed the No Rights line the night he decided to carve up a kid's face tho and just kept right on going.

ensemble!maskell is so cute send help

it's the eye makeup and the lighting it's just. a really good look

ms. obianyo pls

just noticed Bark's little pose on "obsessed with the pursuit of beauty"

okay so i've seen some comments around about Clarence's "How do you keep your pecker up" remark and just thought i'd- dude's fingernails. wow they're so shiny. ahem -mention here that i've looked into this expression before and it's actually a term that i guess is mainly used in England or something and it's like nose = beak = 'pecker' as in birds which ‘peck’ things with their beaks. It's basically the same as "keep your chin up". Snufkin says it to Moomin. I mean with Clarence i wouldn't put it past him to mean it another way but also given where the show is set it makes sense he would use such a term.

ngl i want to Know about Angelica tho like. why is she Brutalized. why did Clarence send her awaey. i actually want to know about the whole family. I feel like it's a three separate moms situation but even if it's only two separate moms Where Are The Moms. did Clarence send Them awaey too? Did one or more of them Die? Were they Killed? oh god what if it's like in Light Princess and he actually Had (one of/)Them Executed. I think it's interesting that Clarence Lorded Dirry-Moir. we don't get to know about how he treated Josiana, but none of his kids even turn up to his funeral and the only one who talks about him at all only does so to denounce him.

also thinking about the differences yet similarities between the Green Box Family and the Royal Family but i can't articulate worth anything rn so i'll just *pins for later*

love Ensemble!Brisson

also ngl even if the whole Royal Introduction/Lords on Palace Hill bit isn't 100% literal it still paints a pretty clear picture of the kind of toxic and vapid society that's encouraged under Clarence's reign.

does 'bonnie prince' mean anything specific or

ugh i love Osric

wait i just noticed the stripies on dirry--moir's shirt. nice. i'd wear that.

not as much as i'd wear the heck out of Osric's coat though. actually his whole outfit. add Osric/Lord Trelaw to Roles I Wanna Be Cast For In The Timeline Where I Sing And Act

the face Dirry-Moir makes while Osric's getting started introducing the fair tho. he looks like a kid trying to fit in with a cool new friend group.

the way Mr Maskell sings "we have a huge collection of the crippled and the dabbed" tho it sounds like he's got a cold

i'm gonna need somebody to meet me irl just to do that lil dance that Dirry-Moir and Osric do after "If you've got the money/I've got the misery" it looks fun!

au where Mr. Maskell stays on stage through the end of Laughter is the Beast Medicine. i need to See him do the choreo for this part.

had a real cursed idea right here but no it's Too cursed

the look on Osric's face when Bark grabs his bad arm tho

this whole "imagine laughing without any cruelty at all" is such a weird bit tbh

have i already said that i love the whole look of the "the poor soul who stands before you" part like idk if it's the pose or what but Gwyn Looks Really Good In This Scene

okay but the way puppet!Gwyn holds out his hand toward his mom and then she goes to- hangon i can’t describe lemme see if separate post separate post

okay

ngl im real curious as to whether this bit on the pirate ship (idk why i’ve always defaulted to ‘pirates’ for these cats) actually happened or if Ursus fully made it up like we really Don’t get to Know how much of this has any basis in what really happened that night do we u-u

kay but the fact that Dea’s mom’s lying there with her eyes open and the way they emphasize her frozen-ness by having her arm stay up like. wow.

wait a minute is that Born Broken playing for lil baby Dea? i think it is.

yeah sing it hazlit

interesting how Ursus has little!Gwyn sing “they put blood in my nightmares” but also vow to find the man who cut him. which i mean singular ‘they’ is obviously a thing but as i doubt the intention was for Gwyn to have decided that whoever cut him must be a they/them man i just think it’s interesting that even the wording in the puppet show points to the fact that there was Someone Else There, even if it does then swerve back to a single perpetrator. But also it’s still accurate because while it was only one man who cut Gwyn’s face, it was both Barkilphedro and Ursus who contributed to putting blood in his nightmares.

honest question why is Mr. Maskell’s voice Like That like who gave him the right

love how puppet!Gwyn and puppeteer!Gwyn and later real!Gwyn all do that same little motion with their head on the word “disgrace”

OH HEY we’re at the part where Lon Don picks up NICE

add Mojo Puppeteer to my list of dream roles

wait ohmygod there’s this thing kind of hanging off the cart and i was squinting at it like “what is that” and then the cart turned around and i realize that’s the body that goes to the head-on-a-shelf ursus what the hell

wait so Dirry-Moir genuinely thinks Dea went blind from looking at Gwyn’s face but he also wants to see it? although granted Ursus said she went blind from “gazing too long” so maybe Dirry-Moir assumes he’ll be safe if it’s only a quick look. still. Concept: Post-Show Dirry-Moir having this tendency to Not Look At Gwyn very much until eventually either he explains why and somebody has to Tell Him, or maybe at some point he’s like “wait a minute. that was made up wasn’t it” and everyone has a bit of a laff

ngl i love the inside of the cart and how there’s like four, maybe five puppets, counting Beauty and Beast, and also some of the shadow puppets...all kinds of vials and bottles and what looks like painting supplies...what looks suspiciously like crimson lethe on the stove...looks like some cabinets and extra storage up very top. im curious about the layout since we only get to see one part of the cart at a time.

wait why’s the song called stars in the sky when does he say th- why isn’t it called “New World” or “dreams” or something why stars in the sky he doesn’t even say- does he say it in the reprise???  *skips ahead* NO?

does the Disney Chorus Say It??

THEY DON’T

WHY IS THE SONG CALLED STARS IN THE SKY? WHY HAVE I BEEN UNQUESTIONINGLY CALLING IT STARS IN THE- WHEN ARE STARS MENTIONED??

IS THE TITLE A REFERENCE TO THE FACT THAT URSUS IS ONE OF THE ONES WHO ASSISTED IN STRIPPING STARS FROM THE SKY? IDK BOSS IT FEELS KINDA WEAK TO ME

ugh i love ms obianyo

“to help them forget themselves” yeah that’s what you want him to do huh Ursus

“not now, Grinpayne”‘s a p curious line to include and only the fact that Gwyn’s still using his puppet!Gwyn voice while complaining is keeping me from being like “lol Gwyn’s lil rant was actually him breaking character and then Ursus just went with it like it was part of the show lol lol”

cutting here for length uwu Dea finishes the word ‘skies’ at exactly 30 minutes in which is nice bc i didn’t even have to interrupt her mid-word in order to pause for post-length.

[anthropwashere]

deadfic: welcome the unknown

Another one for @goodintentionswipfest, and the oldest of the lot I’ll be posting by a significant margin! As in written in 2009 old. You’ve been warned.

Gonna put the whole fic under a readmore because JTHM fics have one setting and that’s Upsetting, so have some naval gazing from me first.

2009 was uhhhhh, some kind of year for me. It was the year I graduated high school, and the year I was a little bit homeless, and the year I wished I was a little bit homeless for longer so I could have avoided some bananas shit, and the year I spent waiting on tenterhooks mid-recession before I could run from a ehhh home life off to the military.

18 year old anthrop was working through some shit while writing this thing, is what I'm saying.

This was intended as a prequel to a fic I was working on in high school, while also being kind of a stand alone fic? If you've been with me since my JTHM days (wow) you'll recognize what it might have been for, but otherwise don't worry about it. This is a bit all over the place but there are still a lot of pieces I'm fond of and honestly, it's nice to see where I was as a writer and how far I've come in comparison? Too many of us fandom writers destroy huge swaths of our work out of this terribly sad and unnecessary shame for liking "cringy" things, and to this day I regret doing the same to virtually all the things I wrote for my first few fandoms. Cheesy and heavy-handed as this fic is, it's nice to have around still, you know? I cared about this fic. Working on it kept me sane during an extremely shitty summer. I dearly wish I still had the first draft, which I remember writing in different colored markers on folded sheets of computer paper hunched up in any random little corner I could get some time alone. Alas, like 98% of the rest of my things pre-military, it's gone for good.

Title comes from Robbers on High Street's "The Fatalist," which sure was a song I had on repeat a lot back in 2009.

=

Everywhere is dirty. Filth and stink and dead particles on everything he touches. He'd fallen asleep, and somebody had broken into his house and poured the offal of a thousand trash cans onto everything and smeared it in deep. 

Asshole. 

Really though, they are all assholes. Shit-smeared animals groping around on all fours, blind and deaf and desensitized to whatever little good was left in the world around them. 

They make so much noise. All they do is scream, and whenever someone manages to gasp out a non sequitur the whole world applauds, casting them into the history books for the next generation to draw penises upon their photographs. It is all a matter of course.

It can't just be him that sees this. One look outside is enough to prove his point. Why else would he board up all the windows? To keep the assholes from looking in, of course.

The assholes are everywhere these days, screaming and fucking. Fucking. They're good at that too. Reproduction. Bucking hips and nails across skin and incredible, terrible intimacy, the exchanging of fluids. Disease of the flesh, fever of the mind. A new generation born in every positive pregnancy test, a new generation dead in every street corner abortion clinic. Babies. Disgusting, germ-ridden things. Oh God, don't let it touch him with its fat little hands shiny with saliva and the green ooze that won't cease dripping from the holes in its face. He doesn't know what'll happen, what he'll do if this thing gets too close, but he has ideas, and none of them are pleasant.

He always has ideas.

He blinks, and the baby and the stinking slut mother cooing at it with too-red lips and salon-styled hair and the bus and the roaring all vanish. He stumbles and knocks an elbow against the dresser.

The smell in here is somehow worse now. Like old vomit in high summer. Is it vomit? Is it his vomit?

He decides it's better not to now, at least not now. He feels a strange mood coming. High tide comes to drown the starfish, already dried by the sun. Perhaps it is a mood he needs, but then again, perhaps it comes too late.

Something cracks, and the edges go soft and drip in a puddle of wax.

He burns his fingers by candlelight.

=

"Johnny?"

"Bunny?"

His throat burns. It hurts to breathe.

"Oh thank God, you can hear me again. You're back."

"What—" He breaks off, coughing. Blood in his mouth, on his teeth. He licks them clean and swallows. "What are you talking about?"

Bunny sounds small and tired in his ears—

Mind?

—and there was fear, Johnny can hear it licking at the corners of Bunny's— 

His?

—voice, but it has faded with time. Johnny suspects he has been asleep for a very long time.

 "I've been trying to reach you for… God, I don't even know how long." Bunny trails off.

He looks around, his eyes struggling to see in the pre-dawn light trickling in through a dozen half-circle windows on the floor above wherever he is. More by the smell than anything, he realizes he is surrounded by blood and bodies. A part of him knows he shouldn't be comforted by this, shouldn't find this scene familiar.

And yet.

"I was scared, Nny."

He hiccups, chokes, and spits out three bullets.

=

The mirror is laughing at him.

He sneers at it. Squints as two left hands do two different things, almost identical but the blur is still visible, still there.

He was wrong, he knows that now. There isn't just one person, one world, one reality on the other side of the mirror. There are dozens, maybe hundreds. Maybe thousands. Not all at once, of course, but there seems to be another pair of eyes staring back, another mouth talking at everyone and no one, each time he looks hard enough, long enough. The edges blur, fingers drag in slow-motion arcs, teeth where teeth shouldn't be, a hundred shades of skin and hair and eyes.

He can't remember the last time he showered.

=

“You look like shit, Nny,” observes the Burger Boy.

“Yes.”

“You really should do something about it.”

“Yes.”

He drives the pen through the paper and carves something into the wood that later he won't understand.

=

Greasy. He is so greasy. The others in the mirror bow out of the way to let him see the unwashed, true reflection of himself. He makes a face, drags his cheeks down to his jaw and waggles his tongue, and the reflection follows accordingly. No blur. 

Yep, that’s him all over.

Devi screams, her face set in a terrified, furious, how-could-you-you-shithead expression, and smashes his face against the mirror. His nose breaks on impact, glass stabs, digs, and catches, and drags down his cheeks and forehead. Blood everywhere, his blood. A tooth goes flying as his chin hits the dressing table’s pitted surface with a crack that sickens him even as the edges of his sight turn black, and the pain is more than noise can express. Blood on Devi’s knuckles. Fingers ripping out his hair.

No.

Everything pauses, then it all reverses in an instant, and he is left standing before a dirty mirror with too many faces looking back.

That already happened— a long long long long time ago

—and he is better now. Devi is better now too. He hasn’t talked to her in awhile but she is around, she is there, and everything is okay now. There is some blood dried into the floorboards still—was that were the stink is coming from?—but his scars have faded. He has forgiven, and he thought he had forgotten.

He’d gotten a new mirror and everything.

=

“Hi Nny.”

“Evening.”

Squee leans back on his heels before the underbelly of a machine Johnny has no understanding of and glares. With his sleeves rolled up past his elbows, smears of engine grease on his hands, sweat on his face, and looking like a mix of engineer, mad scientist, and responsible adult, Johnny has no idea how to treat the boy-now-man-next-door.

"How've you been? Whatcha been up to these days?"

There is something unspoken, something furious and accusing underneath the easy drawl of the questions. He can't imagine what Squee could be angry with him about. He is at a loss, also, at how to respond to the heavy questions thrown at him so casually. He struggles under their weight, unable to answer, unable to keep quiet, unable to lie.

Squee chuckles as he stands in one smooth motion centered on his knees and cleans his glasses with a rag from his pocket. "It's okay, shit, calm down. Not like I got a gun to your head or anything."

For some reason, he feels himself flinch. Squee's eyebrows knit and relax in an instant.

"Let's see," Squee muses. "You look like you, I'm pretty sure your car still works, and I'm currently over at Pepito's for some headfuck or another. Okay, I think I know what year this is. Awesome." He puts his glasses on and shares a smile that could cut glass.

"What are you talking about?"

Squee looks surprised, but after a moment laughs a quiet little laugh. "That's right, I forgot. This is the year you do your weird losing-time thing, yeah? Haha, you freaked me out even more all summer. I think I slept on the roof more than I did my own room. Oh God, this is even better!" He laughs again, louder, and claps a hand on the shoulder of the strange machine.

He can't think of any kind of response to this before Squee speaks again. "Fuck, Johnny, you really think seeing me at nine one day and twenty-three the next is normal?"

He thought about it. "Noooot really. No."

"That is exactly—what—How did you even recognize me?" He gestures at himself, and his eyebrows do something halfway between emulating surprise and gut-busting dislike.

"Who else could you be?"

This time his laugh is loud and body shaking, and he thumps the machine as if Johnny has said something incredibly witty. "Wow, okay, if that logic works for you it works for me, you crazy fuck."

He did not just hear that. "What did you call me?"

Squee smiles again, but his eyes remain cold and flinty and full of hate towards something—Johnny suspects—he has done in the future. Goddamnit, future self, way to ruin a good thing. But his hands still clench, his joints lock. How dare Squee? How could he?

But the boy-now-man-next-door acts as if nothing has changed. "So I can't remember how your art or lack thereof is working out in this little slice of time. You paintin' with any other color 'sides red?"

Why was Squee acting like this? "Of course I am."

He isn't.

Squee scratches his neck, scratches at scabs over long, thin lacerations in finger-shaped bruises, and Johnny wonders if what he's feeling now is how the man felt when he had still been a boy, and the scary neighbor man once crawled through the window to tell him a bedtime story. 

"You know, somehow I doubt that."

=

His fingers itch for activity. He hasn't left the house in days, maybe weeks. Does it matter?

He licks his lips and swallows, fighting down familiar urges. He can beat this.

=

"Do you have a problem with me?"

"Oh god oh god oh god why are you doing this—"

"Excuse me, I asked you a question."

Gently touch the controls, tack the pressure on, oh, just a little more. Just enough to make them scream.

=

The back of his head itches, and when he scratches his fingers come away red. No pain, just blood. So it isn't his then. But he can't remember killing anyone.

He looks away from his hand and out the window, at the outside world creeping in through the cracks between the boards. Outside there is no sun, no moon, no stars, no anything. His breath hitches.

It's raining.

He exhales.

The door is open though he doesn't remember leaving it so, so he takes the hint and walks outside. He inhales, tasting the hot summer smell of wet concrete and the cloying reek of decomposing bodies in his front yard. The million million light bulbs of the city throw their energy skyward, and the roiling clouds eat the light whole. A weird, orange glow from above casts the city into an otherworldly scene, and, feeling a little silly, he wonders if tonight might be the beginning of the apocalypse, and the idea doesn't sound half bad.

In the driveway, the concrete is slick with oil. He stands there a while, letting the rain wash the human grease out of his hair. It takes him just as long to realize his car is missing.

"That's funny," he says aloud, wiping the rainwater out of his eyes. "I don't remember teleporting home. Unless—was it Tuesday yesterday? I don't think it was, but—"

There is a soft, scared inhale of breath, a backwards scream. He turns, and there on the sidewalk is a gray woman in a bathrobe, faded coffee stains and food crusts all down her front. She is pointing at him, her face wide, frozen in a rictus grin of fear.

"What?" he asks, reality crashing into place with a shatter of glass ripping through his ears.

Her mouth moves, but the sounds that come out are backwards and insulting, and her eyes are fish eyes, wide and lidless and staring.

"What?" he asks again, sharply, his voice ugly and tasting of ashes.

"M-mon—" the woman wheezes.

Her throat is in his hands, and he doesn't recall moving from his empty driveway.

"What are you staring at? What do you want?!" he screams.

She gags and gurgles, her tubes for eating breathing talking standing bleeding; all of it collapsing under his fingers—

which hadn't been so thin a few weeks ago

—and the grin on his face is a mile wide. 

"Monster!" she whimpers as something cracks in her neck.

Monster? His hands loosen, cradle her jaw, as his mind tries to grapple with this. Why… Why would anyone call him that?

The pounding of feet, and someone wrenches the woman out of his grasp. "Jesus jump-roping Christ, Johnny!"

Dazed, he stares at the newcomer as if he's looking at everything through the wrong end of a telescope. The reek and the roaring of the public transit system returns with a bang of pneumatic doors, and Squee's mouth moves in angry shapes but the slut-mother's cooing comes out instead.

=

"You gonna pay or get off my bus?"

He looks at the bus driver, at the thick rolls of fat ballooning out underneath his sweaty, undersized uniform, a sneer pulling back the heavy flesh around pearly white teeth. He imagines jamming the steering wheel through the man's dislocated jaw and feels slightly better.

It's safe to imagine such atrocities. Imagine, but nothing more. He has to remember that.

"Hey kid! I'm talkin' to you!"

"Sorry," he manages through grinding teeth and a throat hot and restricted with anger. He deposits the required fare into the automated tray and darts across the yellow line before he can act upon his ideas.

He always has ideas.

He stumbles into an open seat as the bus jerks forward with a belch of black exhaust he can't see but can taste, heavy and gritty on his tongue. On his right, a plastic mommy bounces her little dolly on her knees. They are dressed in matching summer dresses. Disgusting.

How long has it been summer anyway?

He glances at the pair again and thumbs the volume on his CD player a little higher, fighting to keep his face neutral. He has never been fond of parents who treat their offspring like objects rather than the people they are going to be.

Something tugs on his sleeve and he recoils, crashing into the metal bars on his left. It takes everything he has not to retaliate against the foreign touch. His headphones are knocked askew by the impact, and Mozart's power vanishes, becomes tiny vibrations around his neck.

The baby, the child, the dull-eyed little girl has the ragged end of his sleeve in its shining, soaking wet hand. Through the fabric, he can feel its dampness, its heat. It babbles at him incoherently, green ooze dripping from its squashed little nose into the gaping, grinning mouth below.

"Oh, she likes you!" The mother cries, swooping in for the kill. Her smell washes over him—of heady perfume, hairspray, hysteria. He can see the makeup creases, the scars of plastic surgery, the shadow of a bruise on her shoulder half-hidden by her yellow sleeve. His mind jumps to all sorts of conclusions, and each one of them sickens him more than the last.

"Uh," he manages.

His hands twitch.

=

He is sick of this life again. All the old signs are there, everything points to one fact, but he can't bear going down that path, not yet. Later, later.

"'Later,' he says!" Crows the delighted Burger Boy. "Yes, perhaps when the scabs from the old shackles grow over the new he'll get off his scrawny ass and attempt to do something about all this!"

"Fuck you."

The Burger Boy looks at him imploringly, its meaty little hands clasped, its fangs retracted, the perfect image of a concerned friend in hideous checkered overalls. "In all seriousness, Johnny-boy, this is not something you can put off any longer. You must act now, or not at all."

"Go die in a hole."

"We both remember how effective that was the last time you tried that. Now, please—"

"Don't make me get the sledgehammer."

At least it had the decency to flinch at that, the little fuck.

The Burger Boy sighs, obviously frustrated. "I don't understand why you find it necessary to fight me so, Nny."

"Maybe it's because, oh, I don't know, you're trying to enslave me to my own kidneys?" He bites on the straw of his cherry Freezy hard enough to tear it. The plastic tastes like artificial fruit and latex gloves. "And don't call me Nny."

The Burger rolled its eyes, which shouldn't have been possible because it was pretending it was still ceramic. "So I'm no longer allowed that special little privilege, am I? Only the ghost of your dead, levitating bunny rabbit is?"

"Leave Nailbunny out of this."

"And those pathetic Doughboys as well? The very ones that conspired against you to 'serve their master', who, in case you've since forgotten, was the very creature you were charged with imprisoning behind a wall of blood and plaster?"

"That was D-Boy. Eff just wanted freedom. And really, can I blame him?" He bites the straw in half and spits it into the bathroom sink. In the mirror, his reflections mimic him, ten thousand mouths a-grinning.

"You're missing the point, though I'm hardly surprised."

A thought strikes him, and it's out of his mouth before he can think twice about it. "You know, if they ever started talking again, I think I'd still let them call me Nny. Sure, they were both exploiting my ever-increasing insanity and all that, but they were mine in the beginning. Unlike you."

It ignored the jab. "If they ever start talking again, it will be far too late."

=

There wasn't any soap in the bathroom.

=

"What the hell were you thinking?"

He blinks. "What?"

"Give me one goddamn reason, one very good goddamn reason you had for strangling my mother, or so fucking help me Johnny—!"

Squee is definitely reminding him of himself now. Great. Fantastic. Fuck.

"Um."

=

The Burger Boy scowls, its face transmogrifying into the fanged, drooling thing it really is. "You remember how terrible it was to toil under the merciless whip of the System! I know you do because I am a part of you, though you refuse to believe as such! And though you hate what I have to offer, you must realize that I am far more preferable as I am now than what I could become unless you tear free of the System's grip now!"

"I AM FREE!"

With a snap of ceramic he breaks it's right arm off, and the two of them scream in pain and hate, in the same voice, in one voice.

"I." He jabs at his chest with the arm, feeling it squirm under his fingers.

"Am." He drops it to the bloodstained linoleum.

"Free." He grinds the arm to dust under the heel of his boot. His reflections are too blurred, too scattered, to see how many follow suit.

Gripping the hole where a limb had been seconds ago, its ugly face twisted further by agony, the Burger Boy pants, "There is no such thing as freedom! No!" It screams, harsh and violent, as he opens his mouth to retort, "Listen to me. Hear me out. Please."

A heartbeat passes. Five. He closes his eyes, suddenly exhausted, and nods. The figurine sighs and leans against the faucet, settling its insect eyes on the spilled Freezy in the tub.

"Let's get one thing straight. I don't want you thinking that the puppet masters are singling you out for sport. God knows you aren't anything special. Everyone is a slave to one thing or another." It pauses to laugh bleakly. "Perhaps even those who fancy themselves the masters of this game of Monopoly must bow their neck to the chopping block one day. Who am I to know? I am but a series of chemical reactions created in the misfiring neurons of a sick man's brain. But never mind that. What I'm trying to say here is that there has been no other way. Ever. There has been no freedom, no choice. It is all preordained. This is the way of all things."

Every part of him rebels against this. No free will? Impossible. His life is his own, now more than ever. Yes, he had been a slave, once. But that had just been the luck of the draw, an accident, like winning the lottery or getting hit by a truck. It was… unpredictable, impossible to preordain. Heat in his chest, his jaw tight and creaking. "They told me—" He begins, his voice ready to rise into a shriek.

"It was only temporary. Even stone must crumble, Johnny."

His legs turn to jelly at a terrible, terrifying thought. He grips the sink, licks his lips and tastes salt and cherries and fear. In a soft, weak voice he barely recognizes as his own he finally asks, "Are they going to make me a flusher again?"

"They already have."

=

"Mom, can you make it back to the house on your own?" As he speaks, Squee performs a quick once-over on the gasping woman clinging like a burr to his chest. His face betrays him, showing the extent of the damage done even as he keeps his voice upbeat, a stream of happy reassurances pouring out with the rain even as his eyes confirm a far more dire prognosis. "Johnny and I need to, um, talk."

"Who—" Her voice fractures in her collapsed throat, and she chokes and dry heaves until her face is purple with strain. 

Squee holds her until she calms. "Johnny's our neighbor, Mom. We've lived next to him since—for as long as I can remember."

"O-oh. He looks ni-ice. I-is he a friend o-of yours?"

Squee makes a face remarkably comparable to the one a particularly vehement guest made once after Johnny had made him swallow a pound of nails. "Just—go inside, Mom. Go see if Dad's awake, okay? See if he'll call 911 for you."

"Okay sweetie." Her voice is wet and crackling, like stiff paper going soft beneath a steady drip of water. He recognizes the sound, and suspects now that he may have squeezed too hard. But she had insulted him, hadn't she? Called him a fucking monster. How could he let that go without proper retaliation?

"And tell Dad I'll be in in a min—oh festering whore tits, your eyes are bleeding."

"Don't swear, honey." 

"Sorry. Johnny?"

He can't help but flinch. "Yes?"

Squee swallows, looking almost frightened before setting his jaw and glaring hard at him. "You are going to go in your house, sit your ass down on your couch, and you are going to stay the fu—stay there until I can get Dad to give me the keys so I can get Mom to the ER. See, betcha I gotta do it 'cause Dad is an incompetent, loveless douche with a heart of coal. But I'm gonna do it fast, 'cause you and I? We need to talk."

"I—" 

Squee got him off with a sharp gesture. "Uh-uh. Not today. Not gonna play that game. Get in your house."

He got in his house.

=

"Slavery is inherent in all things, Johnny. It is only a question of to what. Once before you were selected to be a Flusher—"

"And I failed. Miserably, I might add."

The Burger Boy shook its head firmly. "You excelled."

"Clearly we're remembering my experiences in the After Life differently."

"Clearly you forget what kind of monster was imprisoned behind that wall."

"I never saw it. I died before I had the chance."

"It doesn't matter whether you saw it or not! What you had to do to keep it locked up should tell you more than enough."

"I—"

"I think somebody with a say in things liked what you were doing down here. Otherwise, why else tether you to this particular yoke a second time? If your memories of what Satan said to you are correct, you are practically the very antithesis of Flusher material!" It hobbles towards him, it's ungainly waddle exacerbated by its missing arm. Drool spills freely from between jutting fangs that cut at its lips with every overeager exclamation. "Take a good look at me, boy. The very moment the System slapped the manacles back on your wrists it began to take me as well. These changes are the result of your inaction."

His reflections smile bitterly. "You claim to be mine one minute and admit you're not the next. One or the other; it can't be both."

It stares at him with a steady, curious expression. "Can't it? The System is trying to take me from you. That is one truth. Another is that I am fighting it as best I can. Just as your Doughboys did, not so long ago."

He sneers and says nothing.

"I am resisting," the Burger Boy continues, "but I cannot win. The changes done to this form you've assigned me are the result of every foot of ground lost. You must see how much faster the transformation is in me compared to the Doughboys! You must understand that you are no longer a mere Flusher! For the Wall Monster remembers how effective it was to use your own madness against you, and now an eye is upon you, Johnny! The merciless, unflinching eye of the System in its entirety, and the System is more powerful than either of us can possibly comprehend."

He locks his fingers around the lip of the sink to keep from shaking. Slowly, the words trickle out of his mouth, pooling in a pile of warm paranoia in the drain. "Everything you say only goes to prove how much they have already conquered you, taken you from me and twisted you into some… thing. Some monster braying about hope even as it settles its jaws around my neck." 

He drops his gaze from the figurine, from the mirror, afraid of the triumph he knows he will find there. "I can't trust you."

The Burger Boy positively beams. "Now you're catching on."

=

"Nailbunny, what should I do?"

resist

"Who? Who do I fight? Him? The System?"

resist

"Whether I like it or not, he's my only source of information. Even if he's manipulating me, he at least has the decency to forewarn me, unlike his predecessors. If push comes to shove, I think I could beat him. But what—what if he's telling the truth? What if he can help me?"

resist

resist

"Nailbunny?"

resist

resist

resist

resist

resist

re—

=

"Please! Oh god, this hurts so much! Stop!"

"Shut up. The machine's barely even warmed up."

The sobbing blob tied to one of many torture devices he keeps humming at the ready cringes as his hand floats above the dial. He allows himself a brief smile.

"W-what do you want? Jesus Christ, I just m-met you! What did I even do?!"

He opens his mouth, a speech rife with injustice suffered under the merciless hands of a society dead from the neck up on the tip of his tongue, only to find himself unable to remember who this woman is and why he has her strapped into the Needler.

He laughs, and turns the dial up anyway.

=

—sist

=

The baby, the child, the dull-eyed little girl releases its iron grip on his sleeve and forgets him instantly, yet the mother perseveres, eager to speak with another human being. It seems he has no choice but to participate in a conversation with this woman until his stop, as every other seat is taken. And besides, it would be rude to just stand up and walk away.

You could kill her.

He frowns and ignores the voice, but nevertheless finds it unsettling. Meat's all for living and talking and eating and fucking and being an actual human, not murder. This is very out of character. Still pondering over it, he glances at the woman and finds her staring at him, expecting something from him.

"What?" he asks, itching to put his headphones on again. He really likes the piece vibrating against his collarbone. 

"Where did you buy your shirt?" the woman asks, as if she's repeating herself. She probably is.

He peels his eyes away from her surgically swollen lips long enough to glance down at himself. Black and gray, with an obnoxious splash of color amid the stripes that makes his head hurt. He doesn't recognize it.

"I, uh, don't remember," he says.

"Oh, that's too bad! My little brother loves that show."

He nods mutely, allowing his thumb to play with the volume of his CD player. The woman keeps talking, and Carl Orff rages at fate in a whispered rise and fall of Latin and violins.

The girl touches his hand again, and he accepts without protest that he will kill these two in their matching summer dresses with an eager blare of trumpets.

=

"Slavery to a broken machine or slavery to life and all its pains and pleasures." Meat touches his arm with its remaining hand. Through his sleeve, he can feel its dampness, its heat. "Decision time is now or never, Nny."

He laughs. "I am a broken machine."

=

Sometimes other people appear in the mirrors. Just brief flashes, overlapping the current other-self dominating the rest, and he knows it's foolish, but he can't help but wonder.

What is it like to have friends?

=

"—and it's being called the worst crime in the tri-county area since the café massacre two years ago. With twenty-seven dead at the scene and another twelve in critical condition, we here at the Channel 4 News Network can't help but agree. What do you think of it, Jeff?"

"It's a real atrocity, Nadine. The man who did this must be a real psycho, a total monster."

"Oh yes. And speaking of the killer, a woman—who has asked to remain anonymous—has stepped forward, claiming to have been at the club when the murders were committed. She also claims to be the one who halted the massacre by shooting the killer three times, despite having already been wounded."

"It is true a thus-far unidentified blood sample was recovered from the scene, as well as the bullets matching the woman's gun, but nothing conclusive has been determined yet. However, the woman has agreed to meet with a sketch artist once she's recovered from the attack, and a drawing of the killer will be sent to all media coverages when available."

"In the meantime, if anyone has any information regarding the killer or his whereabouts, we would appreciate it if you would call the number at the bottom of the screen. Please, don't hesitate—"

The reporter's face freezes for an instant before exploding in a supernova of white noise. Jolted out of a daydream, he instinctively reaches for the remote to mute the atrocious sound, but pauses before letting his hand fall. 

The sound is… oddly pleasant.

He leaves it on for three days.

=

He decides to call it Reverend Meat. It just… seems to fit.

=

He pauses at the couch only briefly, wondering what happened outside and what kind of reaction he should be having, but his legs give out and once he hits the floor it doesn't seem to matter anymore. Something skitters away, startled by the sound and vibrations of his body striking the wood. A minute passes or maybe five before it skitters back, probing his fingers with inquisitive antennae. His nerves won't respond to the signals his brain sends, to flinch away or crush the insect before it has a chance to grow bolder. He panics briefly, fear and helplessness clawing their way through his chest cavity, but then, as if a switch is flipped inside him, he relaxes.

The insect, whatever it is, takes a cautious nibble at the calloused tip of his ring finger. There is a tiny flash of pain, but no instinctive recoil from the source of the hurt. He is truly unable to move, than. The insect continues to bite, finding the outer layers of his skin tasty enough to merit further excavation. A second insect, crawling out of some unseen hole beyond his limited vision, joins the first, and is quickly followed by a third, a fourth, a dozen, too many to differentiate by feel alone and before he knows it an entire colony of carnivorous insects are biting into him, eating his flesh, burrowing under his clothes, his skin, crawling in his mouth and into his soft, wet insides, and he can't do anything to stop it.

It hurts, God it hurts, and he thinks wildly to himself that if he manages to live through this he will never ever strap a jar of bugs between another guest's teeth, ever again, because this is beyond torture, beyond ironic justice, beyond what words can describe: it just fucking hurts.

But then they reach his spinal cord and, like a city-wide power outage, his pain receptors begin to shut down, and then it's only the sounds of thousands of tiny mouths chewing. Until the insects turn their attention to his face, at least, being eaten alive isn't quite as bad as movies would lead him to believe. It's certainly slower, for one thing, and it lacks the nerve-wracking horror soundtrack, but perhaps that's for the better. The sounds he does hear are far from pleasant: squishing and crunching and gnawing and if he still had a stomach it'd probably be heaving by this point. He can see nothing but the dusty edge of darkness beneath his couch, but it's easy to imagine how gruesome he must look.

He's seen the results of this kind of thing with his own eyes, after all.

By the time they reach his head, they have already chewed through something vital in his chest and nowhere can he feel anything, any ache any pain any sadness any anger any loneliness and God is that an improvement. Consciousness fades to a dull spark somewhere in his increasingly exposed ribcage, perhaps somewhere just behind his collarbone, and he is hollowed out as rapidly as a properly upgraded power tool can scoop the mush out of a pumpkin. He is home to a colony of army ants, or a vast nest of ravenous, newborn spiders. That buzzing he hears could be the many vibrating wings of mating flies, or the first comb of a beehive being constructed among his bones. Certainly this is some species of insect that won't hesitate to swarm over a piece of meat—however stringy—before it has a chance to defend itself. Maybe it's even a school of land-bound piranha. He can imagine all sorts of culprits and has little trouble believing in all of them.

He wonders if honey from a human hive would be any good, but immediately discards the idea, revolted. He's practically thinking cannibalism here! Or, rather, self-cannibalism. Can a person self-cannibalize when they no longer have a digestive system? He'll have to try that sometime.

He wonders.

"Johnny?"

He blinks with magically undevoured eyelids, and is whole.

=

Sometimes, if he focuses hard enough, long enough, on these days when others flicker by in the mirrors, sometimes these flickers steady, become memorable faces, re-memorable people. And if memory serves, most of these people are dead.

The implications leave him with aching knuckles.

=

"I am not a monster."

"You just keep telling yourself that. Hey, maybe if you wish hard enough it might even come true one day!" Meat cackles and kicks his toothbrush into the toilet bowl.

"I wasn't always like this. I haven't always lived here. I haven't always been alone."

"How can you be so sure?”

Frustrated. Does he really have to state the obvious?

"No one is born knowing how to speak or read or write, or how to drive a car, or how to use money. Inherent knowledge is limited in humans. I may no longer have the memories of being taught, but the result is still the same. I know how to mix paints because I probably took classes in high school. I know how to use a camera, order dinner at a restaurant, do my own laundry, because someone else was there to teach me. Fuck, someone hated me enough to give me you."

"Who?"

"What?"

"Who gave me to you?" Meat's smile tries to appear kind, yet it is condescending, as if it is speaking to a child. "It's a simple enough question, dear boy."

"I—you said it was a girl—that we—" He swears. "You know I don't remember."

"Who gave you an understanding of the English language? Where is the license that proves you once passed a test at the DMV?"

"I—"

"Can you prove that you did not simply read the directions in some art books, or on the camera's packaging, or in a Laundromat? Perhaps, on the same strange whim that made you steal some Styrofoam Pillsbury Doughboy figurines, you came across my body yourself?"

"You said—"

"I thought you didn't trust me."

His knuckles burn white.

"Well, Johnny?"

"You know I can't prove any of that."

Meat's eyes glitter with delight. "Then, dear Johnny, how can you be so sure?"

=

At the edge of a stage bright with colored lights, he curls his hands around a microphone and smiles. The audience—

so many eyes watching him, and yet he couldn't be more relaxed

—has hushed; yet their screams still ring in his ears. 

He is not alone on this stage.

He doesn't dare turn to see who is playing softly behind him, afraid it'll be people the mirrors have shown him that are alive in some other Johnny's life but dead dead dead in his. His heart pounds, and for once the ache in his throat feels good. This is all so wonderfully terrifying, sickeningly familiar. Has he dreamed this before?

He comes to a stop inches from the audience's reaching hands. Good God, he has them right in the palm of his hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he breathes into the microphone, and every spark of life in this vast room is shining its light on him, and it is all so beautiful, so perfect, so alien. 

"What we have here is a moral conundrum."

=

"Bunny, I'm worried."

"I'm glad I'm not the only one. But really, there's so much to worry about. Please, elaborate for me."

"I haven't gone anywhere I might run the chance of killing someone in months. Just drive-thrus and that fully automated shopping center. Until recently, the only other people I've interacted with haven't bothered me or have been out of reach. It's only been these past couple weeks I've attempted anything more. Walking in parks, public transportation. You know."

"I know."

"What I can't figure out is how I ended up in that club at all."

The television is on, too low to be heard. In its pale blue glow, he carefully touches his chest, wincing when his fingers press against three tender circles: one on his sternum, another between his sixth and seventh ribs, and the last just beneath his ribcage. Tiny puckered scars ache in the center of each purple bruise.

"If I remember correctly, you recognized something who went inside and followed after."

"Why would—that doesn't sound like something I'd do."

"You stalked Devi for nearly a year."

He scowls. "Unnecessary, Bunny."

"Is it?"

He thumps his boots onto the coffee table and says nothing. Bunny presses on.

"It was a woman. Short hair, glasses, surprisingly compassionate to your… cause."

"Wait, do you mean that one woman with that shitty boyfriend I Tazered once? When I saw that movie—"

"Yes."

"Wow, really? I figured the Wall Monster got her after reality collapsed." He taps his chin thoughtfully. "What was her name? Did it start with a… a T?"

"Tess."

"Yeah!" He pauses. "She… recognized me first."

"Uh-huh."

"She practically ran into the building. They didn't even card her. She must have been a regular."

"Or she worked there."

"Or she worked there," he agrees. "That anyone could recognize me—" he trails off. A beat passes, and he continues on a different vein. "But what set me off? What caused me to break again, after I'd been doing so well?"

"That shouldn't be your chief concern, Johnny."

He looks at the disembodied rabbit head, little more than a skull now, and tiny and fragile-looking without it's maggot-riddled skin. "Oh?"

"You should be asking why you were sent back again."

=

Those other people in the mirror, those strangers, those friends, those dead bodies in motion, would sometimes pause beside his reflection. They smile, laugh; get mad and fight back and actually live; attack and be attacked; get scared and fight back and die. Some of it looks fun, some of it looks ridiculous. A lot of it scares him, more than he'd like to admit.

He wishes one of them would notice him.

His fingers touch glass.

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny ― Chapter 5: The New Normal

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny ⥽

Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.

Bound by Destiny and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

As it turns out life with a big secret is pretty much the same as regular life. Only Nadya has to lie to her best friend a lot.

[READ IT ON AO3]

“And you are willing to accept the burden of two humans pledged to Clan Raines?”

“If one of them is up for grabs I’m more than happy to take this one,” Lester’s calloused hand runs up Nadya’s forearm; it’s physically impossible for him not to feel her disgust yet still he persists, “Adrian may have all the cool new toys but I assure you, sweet girl, you’ll be wanting a vampire with some years under his belt.”

She smacks his wandering touch away before it can get to her shoulder. It does little against his supernatural strength but he’s too taken aback. All three vampires are.

“Alright, first thing’s first, never call me that again,” she can’t even repeat the grossly infantilizing pet name without feeling like she’s dipped in grease and slime, so she just continues, “second, and this I promise you Mister Castellanos, you can be darn well sure I want nothing to do with anything even near your belt. And third —”

Lester recovers from his shock then; puffs up his chest and makes to stand from his chair.

“How dare you, little —”

“Let her finish, Lester,” Kamilah doesn’t have to raise her voice to grab their attention. She does so simply by being Kamilah. She meets Nadya’s eyes across the conference table and there’s an interested amusement hidden in their depths. Hidden in the slight quirk of her dark lips. “It’s about time someone put you in your place, after all.”

Lester’s face goes a frustrated shade of red. Kamilah taps her chin softly. “Continue. ‘And third?’”

Nadya only hesitates to remember her train of thought before rounding back on the lecherous man.

“And third,” she repeats, “I don’t care who you are, how much money or power or whatever that you have — if you treat me like that again I’ll make sure the only toy you get is a stake up the butt.”

The look she throws Adrian seeks forgiveness, not permission, but her boss is too stunned to speak. Instantly Nadya recoils, flinches away as if she’s a completely different person. The only thing that keeps her from her natural-born instinct to apologize is reminding herself how disappointed Lily would be.

And it wasn’t as though a creep like Lester didn’t deserve it. There was just the threat of ticking off a vampire that needed factoring in now. She sits in her chair and awkwardly scoots it closer to her boss’ side.

Finally Adrian addresses Kamilah’s question. “Yes, Kamilah; though I’d hardly call the pair of them a burden.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lester seems to be doing all he can not to spit, “she’s gonna be a handful. We should just debrief her.”

“No — she was given the option and declined. Lester, you voted with me against forced debriefing.”

As the men argue Nadya steals a glance at Kamilah only to find the vampiress seemingly assessing her. Kamilah’s brow quirks slightly, ‘boys will be boys’ it says, and she scribbles down something on a stack of papers in front of her.

Adrian’s patience finishes entertaining Lester’s complaints.

“I think this will be good for Nicole, as well. Take some of the pressure off of her back.”

Kamilah snorts softly. “Oh indeed. I look forward to hearing her thoughts on the matter.” She scribbles a signature and slides the papers to Adrian. “If you’re sure, and so long as you’ve weighed all of your options.”

“I have.” He replies.

“Then the sooner we finish this, the sooner I can get back to my date~” Lester practically yanks the stack away from Adrian and signs with a flourish.

After Adrian adds his name to the bottom he offers the pen to Nadya. “The contract isn’t legally binding, but we’ve found it easier to keep certain things on our record. Part of immersing ourselves in the business field.”

She looks it over. Working for a corporation as big as Adrian’s has taught her a few things about the industry of industry, but she’s still a novice at most of the technical language. The small print combined with the occasional phrase like “for which the punishment is death” makes her eyes glaze and the contract blur.

“So I’m, what, signing my soul over to the Council?”

Adrian ignores the laughs of his colleague and places a hand on Nadya’s shoulder. “No. You can be debriefed at any time — though like I said the more time that passes the less we can completely erase. This is more just something we’ve had to do when it comes to humans being associated with the Council. For your safety and ours.”

Lester leans over with a smarmy grin. “In the old days we just branded you. Like cattle.”

It sends a shiver down Nadya’s spine. But a signature was better than a brand — right? She clicks the pen and signs her name carefully. Adrian beams with something close to pride. Takes the contract and hands it back to Kamilah who stores it in a shiny leather briefcase.

The vampires stand and Nadya rushes to follow. That’s it? She thought there would be more ceremony to it — more morbidity. But apparently even supernatural business has joined the corporate mainstream. Adrian offers Lester his thanks but the portly man waves it off and leaves without a goodbye. Grumbles something under his breath that Nadya chooses not to hear a word of. Kamilah stays a minute longer; takes Adrian’s offered hand in a firm shake and tucks her hair behind her ear.

Remembering what Adrian said earlier that night, Nadya tries her very best not to stare openly.

“Thank you for this, Kamilah,” Adrian’s sincerity is almost saccharine, “I know things have been tense lately but I’m glad to know we still agree on things like this.���

“Oh Adrian, pet, I don’t agree with you in the slightest.”

“What?”

Nadya and Adrian stare at her — blinking out of sync but with equal measures of confusion. Like with everything else, that amuses her.

She continues, “I don’t think this is a good idea at all. But I also know you too well, and know that your mind is made up. You don’t reach my age without gaining a sixth sense about picking your battles. You can sign as many humans as you’d like to your Clan so long as they stay in line. Unlike Lester, I have the humility to admit that mortals have their uses beyond sexual favors and snacking.”

He looks ready to argue, but Kamilah makes up his mind for him. She bids Nadya a farewell nod and leaves them in a far more graceful fashion.

“So that’s it? One contract and a greasy perv and boom, I’m in the secret squad?” Adrian holds open the door to their private elevator and Nadya hits the button for his office. It was like nothing had changed, though everything had.

Adrian shrugs one shoulder. “I mean, yes, that’s all you needed to do. Back in the old days —”

“How old are we talking?”

“Well, Lester had a rather big party for his half-millennium back in ‘09. Kamilah’s two millennium in but you won’t catch her celebrating anything.”

It takes a moment for the word millennium to process; leaves Nadya gaping. “She’s two thousand years old?”

“Yes, though surviving that long is rare — especially these days. Young vampires are reckless and fueled only by their hunger. They tend not to last long without Clans to protect and guide them. And with humanity’s unerring desire to exterminate itself in the last century… well, the older generation is considered a war casualty.”

It’s a lot for her to take in, and Nadya has a feeling if she was left in stunned silence every time Adrian casually brings up something incredible about vampires she might never speak again.

Adrian doesn’t break stride as he opens his office door and leaves her at her desk. She has to stop and take a moment to look at the thing before actually taking a seat. Everything is exactly where she left it when she clocked out almost a week ago but nothing is the same.

“Something wrong?”

Nadya looks up to see Adrian leaning in his doorway. His lips turned downward in concern. He steps out and places his fingertips on the desk like it has something to say to him.

“No, no,” though she’s stiff, awkward as she takes her seat, “well… it just doesn’t feel real. Like, this is my stuff, but it’s also like a museum exhibit of my stuff.”

He nods as though he understands. Maybe he does — about as much as he can.

“And what would the exhibit be titled?”

It takes her a laugh and a moment to think. “Hm, I think ‘My Life Before Vampires’ would work.”

“It’s a lot to take in. I would understand if you needed some time off.”

“No, no more time off,” and that Nadya is insistent upon, “better to just dive right in than let it fester. Unless you want a million texts with questions I could just ask you in person.”

There’s something about sharing that familiar moment that eases the tension; makes it so they’re both sharing soft laughter and when Adrian leaves her to her work this time around it looks more like her desk again.

Getting back to a version of ‘normal’ at work is one thing, but trying to find that balance back at home proves a challenge.

Nadya’s content to act like nothing strange happened when she first arrives back on her doorstep. Being bodily mauled on by Lily’s concern, though, gives her a clue that she won’t be able to just let it go. Eventually Lily realizes “I was mugged” is her story and she’s sticking to it, no matter how much she’s teased, poked, prodded, or bribed otherwise.

And after three weeks straight of the silent treatment, neither of them can take it anymore and they make up with a pizza (delivery this time) and homemade margaritas.

Everything else continues as it was. Adrian picks her up, they go to work, lunch is now spent together with a new list of questions that he answers with unerring patience, he drops her off. Nicole doesn’t take the news well — what little she saw of the woman before somehow diminishes. But Nadya won’t complain about a lack of frigid witch in her daily routine.

The most exciting thing she gets to do with her newfound induction into the vampire club is visit a Priya Lacroix afterparty. Woefully underdressed, she tries to keep the same straight face on that comes naturally to Adrian.

“I have some business to take care of in the back,” he gestures to a gilded door of glossy black paint and gold filigree, covered on both sides with a thick red curtain.

Nadya tries to peer inside as the door opens to let through a pair of giggling models; catches what looks like the high-arched back of a throne but nothing more.

“What’s back there?”

“Nothing you’d like.”

“I’m still trying to process this whole Priya Lacroix famous designer and bloodsucker thing.”

Adrian looks around quickly and his frown is chastising, though hardly strong enough to be effective.

“Maybe we say that a little quieter next time, hm?”

The bartender taps Nadya’s shoulder and offers her a fizzy flute of champagne. Before she can decline, Adrian gestures for her to take it.

“Just try not to down four bottles of the stuff before I get back, okay?”

Her deadpan is not amused. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Not likely.” He’s already heading off, flashing something to the large man standing guard at the exclusive club door and stepping inside.

When Adrian returns — only a second glass of champagne later — there’s a grim frown set into his jaw. He practically rushes them out of the venue with little explanation.

She’s ready to ask about it — the question is on the tip of her tongue — but Adrian’s aura screams do not cross and she knows when to leave well enough alone.

Her first (and so far only) time in the proximity of other vampires and she didn’t even get to meet one. Nadya has to hide her disappointment to avoid another lecture.

They say their usual farewells at the curb and Nadya kicks snowplow slush from her heels while she waits for Lily to answer the buzzer.

“Dude, we ordered this twenty minutes ago! Are the dumplings even steaming anymore?”

Nadya has to hold up and back off. She looks at the complex address first — yes it’s her building — and then double check she hit the right button.

Because the last time she checked Lily didn’t have a thick Spanish accent.

She buzzes their apartment again. The voice comes back with a vengeance.

“My girl isn’t gonna pay for cold Chinese, so. Try again.”

“Uh…” Nadya fumbles for what to say, “I live here?”

There’s static on the other end — and she’s really relieved to hear Lily’s static-filled laughter.

“Sorry Nadi’! Forget your key?”

“Yeah, I left it at the office.”

“It’s gonna do you loads of good there. Buzzed you!”

Whatever her subconscious was suspecting when she opened her front door — this isn’t it. Lily in her ‘I’m Going Out’ getup (which is the same as her usual clothes, only there’s typically more belts and bracelets involved) with her boots kicked off and leaning very close to a woman with a bright blue head of hair and a devilish grin. They jam their fingers into the console handhelds like the fate of the world is at stake.

Lily doesn’t look up even when she closes the door a little harder than necessary.

“Oh! There it is!” Blue-Hair jumps and her tucked-legs catch her deftly on the couch — which creaks in protest. Lily joins — Nadya watches to make sure their secondhand-secondhand couch doesn’t collapse under the weight. Then they’re screaming, and shrieking, and Lily drops her controller and pumps her fists into the air in a victory dance only gamers know.

It’s like watching animals on the Serengeti do some weird mating ritual. Screeching, then hugging, then the silence of hot breaths when you realize you’re in close proximity with someone and that feeling kicks in.

“Ahem.” Nadya clears her throat. Catches their attention in the brief silence. Lily jumps down from the couch and embraces her tightly.

“Sorry about that. We ordered Chinese —”

Nadya nods. “Like, twenty minutes ago?”

Lily’s grin is understandably sheepish. Her friend doesn’t wait to be introduced — leaps off the couch with ethereal grace and comes towards them with her hand extended.

“You’re the roommate I’ve heard so much about,” she looks Nadya up and down, then gives a nod of approval, “nice, nice.”

“And I’ve heard so much about you…” before she can flounder for a name Lily saves her skin.

“Maricruz. ‘Member, I told you I was going to that Girl Gamer thing in the East Village?”

She does remember something about that — if vaguely. Maricruz wraps an arm around Lily’s shoulders and squeezes them together.

“How is it that even in a gay bar fuckboy gatekeepers will still find a way to be obnoxiously patronizing?” She and Lily laugh; some inside joke Nadya isn’t privy to, “I was real close to punching one in the face and getting the hell out of there and then who walks in but this angel.”

“We were the only W-L-W’s there, I shit you not.” Lily adds.

“Oh! Well… that’s, uh, that’s great,” Nadya cringes when Maricruz raises a dark eyebrow, “that you guys found each other, I mean.”

“Dude, Mari’s amazing. Her cousin’s girlfriend’s roommate knows a guy who works at one of the salons I was looking into, right, and he has an online hookup to the unreleased alpha of The Crown and the Flame Thorngate DLC!” She looks at Mari with eyes that would give shelter puppies a run for their money.

Mari, to her credit, soaks up the attention without seeming to Nadya like a complete tool.

“Hey, I like to share the wealth with gamers who deserve it. Sapphic ladies get priority.”

“About time we did.”

“You know it.”

They dissolve into laughter again. Leaving Nadya pushing up her glasses, snow slush soaking into her nylons, feeling like the spare donut tire nobody ever uses. Suddenly “I went to a Priya Lacroix show” doesn’t sound nearly as cool as their evening.

Lily double-takes, catches the slight fall of Nadya’s shoulders, and elbows Mari with a smile. “Nadya works for the head of Raines Corp, did I mention,” then, to Nadya, “What Wall Street shit did you get up to tonight?”

The three women migrate to the living room; Lily and Mari on the abused couch while Nadya relaxes in her bean-bag cushion. It’s pretty obvious half-way through recounting her experience with the door guard outside the show that the blossoming couple are only giving her half their attention; she’s just something on in the background.

There’s a brief knot of jealousy that tightens in Nadya’s stomach. But Lily deserves this — someone to spend time with. She deserves someone who doesn’t blow her off the way her ex did. And she deserves someone to spend time with that isn’t her best-friend-and-roommate. Sharing is caring; isn’t that what they say?

She claps to get their attentions; announces she’s going to change into something more comfy and when she returns they’d better be ready to give her a play-by-play of Girl Gamer Night. She tries to keep all sexual noises to a minimum while stripping off the second skin her nylons had become, and giving herself some space from the sudden appearance of Maricruz really does ease her jealousy away.

“Okay — so first remind me who decided to host…”

Nadya’s voice dies out as she looks around to one less body. Lily types something wicked-fast on her phone before hopping up to pull back the curtains. Early daylight isn’t terribly bright, but what streams through makes Nadya wince.

“Girl, this job is making you a straight-up vampire.”

She chokes on air. Lily waits until she’s breathing again to laugh. “Mari caught the time — she works across town so she dipped while you were changing.”

“But I wanted to hear about Gamer Night...” The petulant whine comes out without Nadya’s permission. Lucky for her Lily finds it cute.

“Don’t worry, chica, you’ll hear all about it soon enough. I gotta go get ready — coffee me?”

“Will do—” they pass to trade places, but before Lily’s clear of her Nadya grabs her arm, “—hey, hold up—” and pulls her into a crushing hug.

“You good?” Lily can’t — or won’t — hide the twinge of worry. She hugs back nevertheless.

Nadya nods. “Yeah. Just happy for you. She’s weird, but I’d expect nothing less.”

“Oh my god, it was one date. Not even!” They dissolve into laughter and Nadya feels a quick kiss to her temple before Lily’s off to get ready.

Nadya fills the coffee maker and the whole apartment starts smelling of espresso.

Adrian IMs her to come into his office. Nadya takes a second to finish her bullet point on a spreadsheet before knocking on the door. She hasn’t even crossed the threshold when he looks up with a smile that’s a little bit too wide for her to be comfortable with and says he’s changed his mind.

“Are you sure…?”

“Yes, yes — it’s nothing.”

“Okay…”

Ten minutes later he asks her to join him again. No hesitation this time — but the door’s only halfway open when he backs out.

“Nevermind. Sorry for bothering you. Do you have the Whitman report?”

Nadya frowns. “Almost done. You sure you don’t wanna tell me what’s up…?”

“Quite. Just email me when you’re done.”

It takes her twenty seconds to pull the door closed. Ample time for him to change his mind — but he doesn’t.

The third message Nadya doesn’t even see. There’s a ping from her computer and she whips open the door so hard her hair catches the breeze and her glasses go flying. Adrian startles; looks up from his screen to the frustrated figure wreaking havoc in his doorway.

“Nadya? Are you okay?”

She stomps to her glasses — made significantly less impressive by the sound-muffling Persian rug — and pushes them back up so hard her eyes see little spots of light. Continues stomping over to his desk and places both her palms flat on the wood to look him straight in the eye.

Adrian leans back slightly; oblivious. “Erm… Nadya?”

“What. do. you. want?”

He tries to make light of it, “Should you really be speaking to your boss that way?” but when it doesn’t lighten her mood he has the decency to look apologetic.

“Is this some weird vampire yuppie hazing ritual,” she’s serious, wants a genuine answer, “some game like see how many times the human jumps when I say? Because if we’re trying to beat someone’s record, I’m totally down. But if you’re just messing with me I’ve got a bone to pick.”

Sheepishly Adrian shakes his head. “Not in the slightest. I’m sorry for bothering you. I’m sure you have work to do, so —”

“If you tell me it’s nothing one more time, Adrian Raines…” She points a threatening finger at him. There was nothing more terrifying to a young Nadya Al Jamil than the threat of the Mom Finger; the secrets of which had been passed along to her before she left for college.

Now, the true test of parenting authority was tested between species. They lock eyes and, breath held, Nadya watches with a victor’s delight as Adrian wilts. He gestures to one of the fancy chairs in front of his desk with resignation.

Nadya sits to recover from her awe. “I can’t believe that worked.”

When the vampire looks as though he’s about to question her Nadya jabs the finger at him again — makes him shut his mouth with a click.

“Now — talk.”

Adrian’s not the type to waste time on something that isn’t important. He’s probably the most productive CEO in Manhattan at any given moment. He’s two hundred-something years old, and it shows. It shows in his confidence, in how he carries himself, and in the surety with which he does… most things.

So watching him fumble over his words — constant apologies, lack of eye contact, the way he paces around his office and makes Nadya wish she was part owl just to follow his movements — is uncomfortable to say the least.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do this, I shouldn’t,” he repeats yet again, mumbles something to himself Nadya’s human ears can’t quite catch, “but I have no choice. That’s the awful part. But…”

He passes her chair and Nadya grasps his wrist; it’s enough to get his attention, to draw it out from the aether.

“Why don’t you actually tell me what you need and I’ll decide if it’s too much or not?”

She’s put her frustration aside. Looks up at Adrian with honesty. Instead it just makes things worse.

Finally, and only with a whiskey in hand, Adrian tells the tale of ‘The Baron.’ And the more she learns the more Nadya hopes she never has to meet him. Mobsters are terrifying on their own — but making them immortal and hungry for blood just seems like a violation of the Geneva Convention. Or the vampire equivalent.

She raises her hand like a student in class; Adrian pauses and nods.

“So he’s a bad dude — I get that part,” she frowns, “but what I’m not getting is why the informational lecture? Is he coming here? Crap — should I have reserved a conference room?”

Adrian’s smile is wistful. “No — now, I promise this is related, just bear with me. Do you remember what really happened that night in the park?”

Gooseflesh runs down Nadya’s arms.

“When I was attacked, you mean.”

“Yes.”

“I… sort of?” Her voice strains. It wasn’t something she had to work hard to forget — thanks in part to the alcohol — but occasionally there were nightmares. Not that she told Adrian about that. Just a normal part of being attacked by a feral creature, right? “If you’re saying he was there…”

Adrian shakes his head again. Leans forward with his fingers laced together.

“The Feral who attacked you wasn’t a newborn. I could tell that from the start. Kamilah and I have been looking into the matter — likely he was a vampire who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“But he can’t be cured.”

“No,” a beat, “he’s dead, Nadya. I killed him to save you.”

Hearing the creature was dead was one matter. But Adrian’s excuse — “to save you” — makes her stomach roll. “Whatever. Was this Baron guy the Feral, then?”

“Oh, no, he —”

“Then connect the dots before I lose it.”

“The Feral was formerly a vampire named Douglas Courette. He worked at the Shrike… better known as the Baron’s place of operations. Now, you remember there are pacts in place to keep the number of vampires in New York at a consistent and manageable rate. There isn’t any concrete evidence that the Baron is behind the Feral population increase… but this is the first time we’ve been able to link, well, anything back to one of our own.”

It’s a lot to process. Adrian gives her time.

“So,” with a shaky breath, “what does that mean?”

“It means he needs to appear in front of the Council — which is formally requested via summons,” Adrian opens the center drawer of his desk and pulls out a manila envelope sealed with dark red wax. Nadya recognizes Kamilah’s liquid penmanship scrawled across the front bearing the Baron’s title. “Once the summons has been given the Baron will be bound by Council decree to appear and testify.”

“And if he skips it? Gets stuck in traffic?”

“Then his position on the Council is forfeit and his Clan would be dissolved.”

“Guess it’s something you can’t exactly have FedEx-ed, then.”

“No, not exactly,” he steeples his fingers and finally looks into Nadya’s eyes. She’s starting to regret that fourth cup of coffee. “For a summons to be binding it must be delivered in person. And unlike Priya — who at least pretends to get along with everyone — the Baron’s Clan knows every face of mine and won’t let us get within a hundred feet of the place.”

He doesn’t have to say any more. Nadya can read him like a book — now more than ever. And it brings an awful feeling up into her throat.

Unable to school her emotions Adrian recoils. “This is why I didn’t want to ask you. It’s too dangerous.”

“Yeah, it is.” Nadya extends her hand for the envelope. “But it’s also my job.”

The last time she wore anything even remotely this ridiculous was Halloween night her senior year of college. Her frarority — still obscure enough to pass for a group of friends who lived in the same house — had decided on a group costume. Even more ridiculous; they decided to enter a contest held by the largest sorority on campus.

Needless to say their ‘Unpopular and Obscure Internet Memes’ group costume got a few chuckles but didn’t get anywhere close to the final four. And it had taken a solid month for her green face paint to completely wash off.

If she could Nadya would text Adrian to double-check The Shrike’s address. Wearing a shiny gold flapper dress in the middle of a seemingly-abandoned warehouse district makes her stick out like a sore thumb. But they both agreed it was too much of a risk.

This being one of the many reasons she wouldn’t make it as an undercover cop.

But Nadya isn’t the only person out of their element; she catches sight of a man in a crisp but old-fashioned suit leaning against a brick wall. His fedora obscures his eyes but she has no doubt what color they are.

“You goin’ my way, Daddy-o?” Her heels click-clack with each step. Get her the door guard’s attention just enough for him to rouse himself to his full intimidating stature.

He looks her up and down with a scowl. “You talkin’ to me, toots?”

I can’t believe that worked. She steels herself and bats her eyelashes.

“Anyone else here? Didn’t think so.”

His eyes linger on the way the fringe of her dress catches on the dim streetlight over their heads. Sure enough they gleam blood-red. She stifles a nervous swallow.

“Pretty young thing like you shouldn’t be runnin’ around dark alleys at night,” he scolds, “you never know what hangs out around these parts.”

Nadya ticks her tongue. “Oh I’ve got, erm, a pretty swell idea.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They lock eyes — a contest of wills. He smells of old chewing tobacco and something burning; the combination bringing a stinging tear to her eye. Finally Nadya relents; cocks her hip to one side and when she crosses her arms over her chest the wax seal on her envelope catches the same light.

“Alright, nope, can’t do this. I have a summons for your boss so how about you let me in?”

Whether the vampire got off on the roleplay or not the second the spell is broken so is his restraint. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t have to flash his fangs when he frowns but that doesn’t stop him in the slightest.

The door guard steps forward; towers over Nadya. His eyes glow in the shadow cast by his hat.

“How’s about I don’t?”

“There you are, dollface!” Nadya breaks into a full-body shudder at the familiar voice behind her as it calls out from the dark, “so much for goin’ in together!”

The guard looks up — Nadya rounds on the woman with paling surprise. The sleek black flapper dress ringed with pearls looks wholly alien on Maricruz’s jolly form as she trots up to the pair of them. She urges Nadya back around towards the door just in time for the guard to slam his hand on the metal.

He looks between them, upper lip curled in distaste. “And who the hell are you?”

Mari twirls one of the strands of pearls around her neck with a long finger. If anyone else was running around New York at night in Gatsby attire the irony would stand. But despite only meeting her once Nadya wouldn’t forget that smirk for the life of her.

“Calm your pants ya bluenose. My gal and I here were just lookin’ for a hot place to go half-seas over. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

Before Nadya can protest Mari seals their mouths together. She makes it a point to swallow all the air in the girl’s lungs before pulling back — and only then does Nadya understand why.

Maricruz’s fangs press just over the swell of her bottom lip. Her eyes like garnets in the light.

The guard, to his lack of credit, grins smugly at the display. Men never change. But the sight of Mari’s true form is like a skeleton key and with a gruff grunt, he knocks in a lazy four-beat tune on the door. The sound of bolts and locks being undone echoes through the alley and the door swings open with a whine.

“Whatever.” The guard tries to play it off but his focus lingers on the envelope in Nadya’s hands. She quickly stuffs it between her body and Mari’s as she’s led inside.

The door closes on them swiftly. They’re plunged into a dimmer darkness than the nighttime; old rust and a musty weight to the air making it hard for her to breathe.

She doesn’t get the chance to speak — instead Nadya finds herself pinned to the corridor wall with a hand beside her head.

Maricruz leers down at her with eyes blazing. Her voice; a purring croon.

“Now… why don’t you and I have a little chat?”

[leelee10898]

Back to you: Chapter 15 pt 1 - Welcome to New York

Characters belong to Pixelberry, except those created for the story.

Summary: We pick up the morning after the fight at the speak easy, where Leo and Aria spend the night together. We say goodbye to Paris and Hello to NY! Someone has left court,and Leo comes face to face with Arias Best friend Ellie, who is NOT his biggest fan. Catch up on past chapters HERE

Rating: 18+ Slight NSFW, Fluff and sort of angsty..

Chapter/title inspiration: Welcome to New York - Taylor Swift

Tag list:  @bobasheebaby @scarlettedragon @annekebbphotography@speedyoperarascalparty @greyeyedsmile14 @stopforamoment @mind-reader1 @xxrainbowprincessxx @hopefulmoonobjectalicars @katurrade @indiacater @bella-ca @blznbaby @blackwidow2721liamxs-world @simsvetements @crookedslimecreatorpasta

As always if you would like to be  added to the tag list, let me know and we can make it happen! Enjoy

Bang bang bang

Lady Aria

“Ugh make it stop.” Aria groaned

Bang bang bang

Lady Aria I can not believe you are still asleep, have you learned nothing?

Aria jumped up out of bed stark naked. “shit I need clothes.” She fumbled around the floor, finding a button up dress shirt she buttoned the middle two buttons as she hopped around trying to put on the boxers she found crumpled on the floor

Bang bang bang

Lady Aria we have a schedule to keep now get u-

Aria flung the door open cutting Bertrand off “what Bertrand? what the actual fuck?” She snapped. Bertrand assessed her attire, his face flushed “ah well ah, yes plans have changed we are headed for New York, flight leaves in 5 hours. ” Bertrand hastily walks off embarrassed.

“I thought Bertrand was going to curl up into the fetal position. ” Leo chuckled now sitting up in bed. Aria smiled at his joke. “Shut up, Bertrand knows I hate that shit.” Leo grinned looking her up and down. She was beautiful all dolled up, but he loved when she was wearing his boxers and shirt, her long brown hair thrown in a messy bun. “What?” Aria noticed his gawking. Leos smile spread across his face “just admiring the view.” He tilted his head in appreciation . “Well shows over its time to pack.” She advised waking over to the night stand to check her phone. Leo grabs her by the waist and pulls her onto the bed. “Leo!” Aria giggles as he rolls on top of her, kissing her neck and un buttoning his shirt she was wearing. “Hey you heard Bertrand, we have a plane to catch.” Aria protested in between kisses. “What I heard was we have a plane to catch in 5 hours.” He whispers as he kisses her down her chest before removing the boxers and settling in between her legs . “Leo. We cant.. OH, mmmm, ok.” Aria moans, she could feel the grin on his face between her legs.

***********

4 hours later Aria was packed and waiting in the lobby. She was so excited to be going home. She missed Ellie terribly, she would have to carve out some down time to visit with her before they headed back to Cordonia. Cordonia she thought. So many questions swirled around her head. What if Tariq wasn’t found? What would she do then? She couldn’t be Liams mistress, she wouldn’t. What was she going to do about that mess? She loved Liam, still after everything that had happened, but then there was Leo. He was so amazing, helping her through everything, so protective and caring and the sex. Well the sex was amazing, but was it just sex? No, it was more then just sex. Last night during his fight with Liam, Leo let it slip that he loved her. She didn’t know how to approach it so she didn’t bring it up. She knew she loved him, she never stopped. Part of her wanted to lose herself in the feeling again, but that cautious side hit the breaks hard. She loved Liam, and she loved Leo, what the hell was she to do?

“I hope im not interrupting anything.” A voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She smiled “Liam. No you are a welcomed distraction.” She patted the bench next to her for him to sit. “Where’s your shadow?” She wondered sarcastically. Liam rolled his eyes and groaned. “Madeline caught and earlier flight, something about shower arrangements. I could care less honestly.”  “Hey how are you? After last night? ” She questioned looking at his puffy lip. “I am very sorry about the way I acted in front of you. I should have never allowed my jealousy to put you in a position to be harmed. ” liam hung his head in shame. “Liam i’m fine, sometimes we lose our cool.” She lifted his head up, stroking his cheek gently. “How have the blackouts been? Have anymore episodes?” 

“No I haven’t had an episode in a few days, not since, well that terrible day in your room.” Liam winced at the memory. “ when you have them, are you doing anything before?” She prodded. “Well, it happens different times, I am never doing the same thing its sporadically.”. Aria reached out to take Liams hand. His heart skipped a beat. “Aria, I miss you, I miss us.” His voice a low whisper. “I miss you too Liam, everything is just.” “Complicated?” He finished her sentence for her. 

“There you are.” Leo calls out interrupting the moment. “Leo.” Liam acknowledged “Liam.” Leo nods, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Liam stands and takes Arias hand, placing a soft kiss on it “I will see you later, perhaps we could talk a little more once we’ve landed in New York?” “Yes, that would be wonderful. ” Aria gives a polite smile as Liam walks away giving Leo a dirty look.

Leo pulls out a box from behind his back “for you my lady.” “Are these?” She starts to say staring at a beautiful pastel arrangement of macaroons. “they are.” He beams as he hands her the macaroons from her favorite bakery in the city. . She jumps up into his arms and kisses him on the lips. “You really are my super man.” She giggles pulling a macaroon out and biting it. Savoring its Devine flavor.  Leo smiles and takes her hand “we’ve got a plane to catch.”

After a long flight their plane touches down at JFK international in New York. They gather their luggage and a short ride they arrive at their hotel. Madeline greets everyone in the lobby. “I have made everyone’s room arrangements. Liam and Leo will be on the 2nd floor with Kiara, Peneolpe and myself. The Beaumonts, Aria, Olivia and Drake will be on the 6th floor. "What about Hana?” Aria asked, noticing her name wasn’t mentioned. “Ok so everyone get some sleep, we have brunch with the mayor tomorrow.” Madeline turns and walks away, ignoring Arias question. Liam, Bertrand and Maxwell head off to their rooms. “Madeline where is Hana staying?” Aria followed after her demanding an answer. Madeline turned and let out an annoyed sigh. “Lady Hana has left court and returned home,if you must know.” She turns and calls for Penelope and Kiara to follow.

Aria stood their stunned, why would Hana leave without saying goodbye? Something did not feel right. First Liam is having black outs and now Hana is gone? “You ok Beautiful?” Leo approaches placing his hand on her shoulder. “No, Hana would not just leave without saying goodbye. Its 4:30 am in shanghi. I will have to call her later.” Aria sighed. She grabs her room key “I guess I will see you later.” Aria gives Leo a quick peck on the cheek and heads to her room.

She sits down on the bed and stares at the trunk containing all of her dresses and proper clothing. Its been nothing but dinners, teas, balls, formal events for months. She longed for some greasy food and a soda. She pulls out her phone and sends Ellie a text

Aria:What are you up to tonight?

Ellie: Hello stranger!! Lindsay and I are meeting Jay and Rob at Timothys. You?

Aria: Omg I would kill for some honey bbq wings from Timothys right about now.

Aria: another day another fancy hotel. You at home? Hows the apartment? What time are you guys meeting up?

Ellie: around 7. Apartment is fine, im at Lindseys. just getting out of the shower, gotta get ready. Call me later, I miss you.

Aria: miss you too.

Aria tosses her phone on the bed. She digs around in her duffel bag until she finds her keys. She could have told Ellie she was in New York, but that would ruin the surprise. Aria was going to stop at their Apartment and get some clothes before heading to Timothy’s. She opens the door to find Leo standing on the other side. His hand lifted like he was just getting ready to knock. Aria jumps back “oh shit, you scared me.” She puts her hand on her chest. Leo chuckles “sorry. You going somewhere?” He notices her keys in her hand. “Actually, i’m going to my apartment and I think i’m going to surprise Ellie, shes going to Timothy’s and i’m dying for some wings!” Aria bites her bottom lips and twirls her hair. “Oh I see, I ah, I came to see if you wanted to grab a bite to eat, but I see you’ve made plans. Ill leave you to it. ” he turns to leave “Hey Leo, want to come with me?

Leo smiled "Yes, absolutely. ”

They head to the lobby about to leave when Leo re directs her towards the parking garage. “I have other transportation arrangements.” He grinned leading her over to a shiny black motorcycle. Her eyes light up. “This isn’t the same bike is it?” “I had it brought here, to many memories to let it go.” He handed her a helmet before swinging his leg over and mounting the bike. Aria climbs on the back, she gives Leo the directions to her place and they drove off.

They arrive at a stone building that was one of the nicer places on the block. There was no elevator so they had to walk up a few flights of stairs until they reached the 3rd floor. They walk into the apartment, Aria half expected to find a huge mess but it was clean. “So this is me.” She motioned around the small space. “Its not much but its home.” She fiddled with her fingers, she was nervous bringing him there. “It suits you, its very comfortable and inviting. Much like you.” There were pictures of her and Ellie growing up, pictures of their friends having fun all around. “Bathrooms down the hall, along with the bedrooms. El is on the right, i’m on the left. "Oh, yeah?  Is there a tour.” He perks up. They start walking down the short hall “Yes, I need to change.” She turns and gives him a serious look “hands to yourself Rhys we don’t have time for your shenanigans right now.” He puts his hands up waving them in defense. Aria walks over to the dresser pulling out a bra and pantie set, Leo arches his brow. “You turn your head.” She orders. “I’ve seen your ass love.” He smirks “turn it Super man.” She motions her finger in a circle If he played his cards right he would get to see them later on

. He puts his hand over his eyes, he parts his fingers to steal a peak. He sees her putting on a lacey black thong. He groans as he tilts his head slightly. “Hey I said no peaking. ” she hollars. She throws on a pair of tight jeans and pairs it with a black off the shoulder shirt. She threw on a pair of sandals, and let her hair down. “Ok, let’s get going.” She called over to Leo who was now lounging across her bed. “Yup.” He jumps up and the leave for the bar. They arrive at Timothys a short time later. “So before we head in, I should probably tell you, you are not Ellies biggest fan.” Aria mentions biting the bottom of her lip. He tucks her hair behind her ear and drops his voice low. “If you keep biting that lip were never going to make it into the club.” He winks and leans in giving her a deep kiss before pulling back, leaving her breathless. 

They walk into the crowded bar, Aria searches out her friends in the crowd. She spots them but she makes a B line to the bar. She knew a few of the waitresses so she stopped one asking if they received their order yet. The waitress informed them she was just getting ready to take it over. Aria whispered something into her ear and the waitress agrees. Leo stood there and watched her work her magic. They follow the waitress to her friends table. Aria and Leo stand off to the side so they weren’t spotted. Once the waitress distributed the order she turns to Ellie. “I have something else for you but you have to close your eyes.” Ellie looks at her and reluctantly closes her eyes. Aria walks over and stands where the waitress was, right in front of Ellie. “Did someone order a side of best friend?” Aria giggles. Ellie’s eyes fly open and she screams, jumping up and hugging Aria. “Oh my god, you’re here. When did you get here, oh my god.” Ellie hugs Aria while jumping up and down. “We just got in today. I had to come see you. And we wanted wings.” Aria chuckled. “Wait, who’s we?” Ellie looked at her curious. “Hello Ellie.” Leo joins Arias side. Ellie eyes him coldly. “You brought him?” Ellie turns to Aria with her hands folded across the chest. “What the hell for?” Aria swallowed hard, this was going to be a disaster.

[cutiecrates]

Kira Kira May 2018

My allergies have been horrible lately, but they seem to be going away because I haven’t been feeling as sick as much these past few days.

I’m super sleepy, but I was doing well so I don’t want to get lazy again. So here we go! Let’s get into this!

Theme Cozy Night In~

PAPER SOAP

I know, probably a strange concept huh? People said the same thing about paper blush and now a lot more people are trying it out. This product works exactly like soap. All you do is lather it with water and wash your hands like you normally would.

This cute, unique little product was available in several varieties: Lavender, Rose, and Peppermint. The booklet also shows Lemon, so I assume there’s probably a handful of scents. Each one also has its own coloring, package design, and image drawn on the pack it comes in too x3

I asked someone to take a picture of this for me; just for a little reassurance that I actually did use the product. It dissolves in seconds, and isn’t an extreme lather, but its enough to get the job done.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

First of all, I like unique, cute little things like this if you didn’t already figure that out. I also really like how practical it is. You get 50 sheets per-pack and its small so you can easily carry it around; even in your pocket or small purses. Which I began to do when I got the box actually- just in case I ever came across a bathroom without soap, or if it was a poor product they had. It could also come in handy if you’re out somewhere and some totally random event happens (as long as you have water that is).

You could also play a prank on someone by putting one of the sheets in their pockets or where they sit (again as long as there is water)~

ORGANIC MASK

Pure Smile returns with this Aroma Flower Essence Mask pack. This one features chamomile oil, collagen, royal jelly, and hyaluronic acid to aid in moisturizing.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Well... it did do its job. It’s a perfectly normal facial mask, the moisturizing only lasted for the day though. It smelled like tea + herbs, which I didn’t necessarily like but that’s just me. I’m not fond of herbal scent products because they usually remind me of seasoning or sauce. I didn’t mind the tea portion much; but I had assumed this would be flowery due to the floral theme.

MOASIS OIL MILK

I had high hopes when I saw this product x3 it’s perfect for dry skin and its made from cactus oil, which is said to help provide a boost of moisture to skin cells. It has a floral scent, according to the bottle, but I can’t exactly pinpoint it.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥

This probably goes without saying but as an oil product, you don’t need to use large amounts (or else you’ll probably just make a mess) and it’s fairly greasy and a little unpleasant to touch. I adore how it smells, but it’s hard to use for me because I keep getting it on things >3<

However, I can’t deny that it has been helping a little bit. I’ve been putting small amounts of it on my sensitive facial regions that have become desert over time, and I’m finding better times to put it on, and I make sure to rub it in as much as possible and it’s been going a lot better. If you’re patient with it, it’s not a bad product.

HOT EYE MASK

This is a pack of 3 lavender-scented heated eye masks! Not only do they have a cute design, but they work instantly and do wonders for those tired and achy eyes that need a break. Or to help wind down after a long day. You can also do other stuff while wearing it because it has ear flaps for support.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

I really like this and it’s cute design! Even during summer weather, the warmth from the mask is soothing and and not at all uncomfortable. It does also smell of lavender, but it’s not the normal lavender scent I’m used to?

I like the soft and fluffy design of the packaging; but at the same time, does anybody else think the front image seems a little anti-productive? People can get sore and tired eyes from strenuous activities like staring at screens for long periods of time. I mean yeah, it shows that you can do that kind of stuff while wearing it (as long as you don’t need glasses), which is nice, but couldn’t you be using the time to do something better? Like stretch, or prepare the bed, brush your teeth/hair, etc...

BLACK & SHINY EYELINER

As much as I love getting new things... long-time Cuties probably know how I feel about eyeliner. Practically the bane of my makeup using existence. No matter what, it isn’t applying right when I use it, and I know it’s not the products- I just can’t figure it out.

Anyway what makes this eyeliner special is that it has a metallic sheen to give it a fun touch. Although... when I actually tried it out....

You can’t see it in the picture. It does shine though if that’s any reassurance.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

It’s a nice eyeliner and I love shiny things! I’m not sure if I’m into the design on the tube but I do like that it has a design anyway, and while I probably won’t be using it for its intended purposes, it would come in handy for designs or accent touches on the skin.

HONEY LEMON BATH TABLETS

This is our final item of the box, a neat packet of bath tablets, with additional powder! Usually it’s just one or the other, but I assume one component is lemon, the other honey. When using one of the items, the water is nice and clear, but when combined they give it this sort of a creamy milkiness. Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ It’s a perfectly fine product, but I’m not sure if it actually does anything for you. It smells nice, but I didn’t notice any sort of softness or anything afterwards. No stainage either.

♥ Cutie Ranking ♥

Quality/Pricing - 5 out of 5. Everything was fine, and I really like that for the price we pay, most of it is multi-use. That usually isn’t a problem.

Theme - 4 out of 5. The gimmick behind this one is preparing for a cozy bed time, essentially. I feel like all the items fit very well because they’re comfortable and relaxing... except for the eyeliner. Nobody puts that on before bed... right?

Content - 3.5 out of 5. I genuinely liked everything, but I wish we would have had a little more variety in “types“. Like that soap, it was the only item that wasn’t the same for everyone.

Total Rank: 12.5 out of 15 Cuties. It was a perfectly fine box, and I enjoyed the items enough.

♥ Cutie Scale ♥

1.  Paper Soap - I love the cute packaging it comes in, and the little pack holding the soap is sweet too x3

2.  Moasis Cactus Milk Oil stuff -  I love the pastel drawings, and the bottle is really cute too x3

3.  Eye Mask - Cartoony in a cute way. I like the glasses design on it!

4. Chamomile Face Mask - It’s simple and sweet, but I earnestly expected it to be more flowery in scent, so I feel like it could be a bit misleading...? 

5. Bath Tablets - The package is fun and vibrant looking!

6. Eyeliner - Has fun designs on the package and tube, but it’s just not me.

Alright Cuties, that does it for this one. We got through it alright, only one or two allergy flare-ups between the time I started it and now (but to be fair, I kinda put this off for the day <3<’ ). Anyway, next up is Kawaii Box! So if you enjoy that one be sure to check it out :3

Until next time, stay cute!

[chaletnz]

Italy Day Three: Florence Walking Tour

Last night when I had arrived in the Florence central station my first impressions had not been great. As soon as I walked outside I was greeted by a huge army tank and several armed militants. It was around 9pm; I was starving but there were no kiosks or food stands in the area that were open, my phone was near death, the bus stop I needed was nowhere in sight. I hated myself but I walked under those glowing Golden Arches and ordered a greasy chicken nugget meal. With some food in my belly I could finally think and figure out a plan to get to my hostel on the opposite side of Florence. I eventually found the bus stop and waited for almost an hour for the number 17 which recklessly drove me to the middle of nowhere. I arrived at my derelict hostel and was welcomed into my room that smelled of poop by a weird Brazilian guy and two screechy Eastern European girls aka my dormmates. But I went to sleep hoping for a better Florence experience tomorrow! In the morning I got ready and packed up my things as I had to change room for my second night, then I walked for about 30 minutes towards town and didn't see anything of interest except a militant standing in a bulletproof chamber near the synagogue. My first stop was of course a coffeeshop as usual! I had done a bit of research and it had led me to a small cafe called ditta Artegianale. They actually opened as a roaster and their beans are said to be among the best if not the best locally roasted beans in Italy. I ordered a classic cappuccino and some coffee French toast because it sounded delicious. The staff were a bit too sassy, and I get it they work in a hipster coffeeshop full of tourists but come on I was there before all the Americans with decaf soy lattes came in! I ate quickly and left to walk through a maze of statues and palaces to get to the meeting point for my walking tour - Strozzi Palace. The group was around 20 strong, led by a petite girl called Margherita ("like the pizza!"). She took us first into the market square which was crowded with tourists and touts trying to sell their scarves, bags and miscellaneous other items. We were told to pay attention to the pattern of the columns and arches that are characteristic of a market square because it would come up again later. Margherita then told us to turn around and we had reached our second landmark. I hadn't even noticed it initially in the sea of people milling around but there was a bronze fountain statue of a pig just outside the arches. Known to the Italians as Fontana del Porcellino, it's a tradition to rub his nose and put a coin in his mouth. The water will force the coin to slide out and if it falls into the grate below then it's said you will experience good luck. The nose is extra shiny from people constantly rubbing it for luck. Our next stop was less crowded, the Church and Museum of Orsanmichele, our memories were tested when we saw the same familiar columns and arches - the church was originally a wheat market. Our tour continued inside where Margherita pointed out the rings on the ceiling for holding the wheat up high away from the animals and especially the rats carrying the Plague which wiped out half of the population of Florence. She also explained the holes carved in the columns - they were so someone could yell into it from the floor how much wheat they needed and the echo would be directed to the top beams where the workers could drop down the wheat as needed. The market burned down in the 1300s and all that remained was a painting of the Virgin Mary and the townspeople took it as a sign so they rebuilt the market as a church. Because of the humble beginnings as a market the local people really care about this church; the altar is made of marble, glass, and precious stones. Next we walked into the main square Piazza della Signoria which was very crowded with tourists so it was hard to focus on Margherita while she explained how the Medici family rose to power becoming a strong banking entity during the 15th century. They weren't monarchs but rather wealthy civilians so the people of Florence didn't like them having power simply for being rich. The family were exiled from the city for 30 years and Michelangelo crafted "David" to commemorate the victory of the civilians. The hands and head of the sculpture are proportionately larger to show the tools David used to defeat Goliath. After spending all those years in exile the Medici family returned to claim the palace and they had a statue built in reply; featuring the severed head of Medusa held up for all to see. We took a short break to rest our weary legs on the steps of the Complesso di San Firenze museum as it seems many do. While we sat Margherita told us that Leonardo Da Vinci had an apartment in the palace and he actually befriended the workers who buried corpses for the jail down the road and used them for illegal autopsies because he also wanted to study the human anatomy alongside his painting. Another famous resident of Florence was Galileo, science developments were aided largely thanks to him even though when he wrote his theory that the earth wasn't the centre of the world the church said he cannot publish it because it goes against biblical statements. He had to stand up in court and deny his theory or he would've been executed. Our final stop was the Basilica of Santa Croce in Florence, the final resting place of Michelangelo and Galileo. Our tour ended on a sad note as Margherita broke the news that just a few days earlier a Spanish tourist had been killed inside the basilica by some falling masonry. To take our minds off that she gave us some recommendations for places to get lunch and gelato and find the best Florence has to offer, then she took her tips and disappeared into the crowds.

[dawnasiler]

How to Do My Spring Skincare Routine for Post-Acne Marks

This article may contain affiliate links. See our Disclosure for more information.

I blame Drunk Elephant.

For my spring skincare routine, I was planning to give you an "all Drunk Elephant" regimen, since so many of you have been asking me about their products.

But after several weeks of testing... I was too broken out to continue. 

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So, I now present you my "RECOVERING from Drunk Elephant" routine!

That's right—I didn't have the best experience with their products (which is why I decided to do this review instead). Most of them are just not suitable for acne-prone skin like mine.

Fortunately, the breakouts stopped as soon as I eliminated the culprits. But now, I'm dealing with the aftermath: post-acne marks!

In this routine, I'm sharing all the products I'm using to treat them, morning and night. (And in case you missed them, check out my previous routines for winter, fall and summer.)

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My Spring Skincare Goals

My spring skincare routine is all about fading post-acne marks.

Okay, before we get into the routine, let me share my strategy here. (You might not be able to see the marks underneath my concealer, but trust me, they are there!)

Fading post-acne marks: There are actually two types of post-acne marks or discolourations that can occur after a bout of acne, and both are triggered by inflammation. Post-inflammatory hyperpigmentation (PIH) appears as brown marks, and is caused by an overproduction of melanin. Post-inflammatory erythema (PIE) is red or purple in tone, and caused by dilated blood vessels. Personally, I tend to get the reddish PIE marks to start, but if I'm not careful, they can turn into brown PIH marks over time. That's why this routine includes topicals that address both, along with plenty of exfoliation to speed up cell turnover.

Protecting skin from the sun: Sun protection is always key, but especially when you're dealing with post-acne marks, as the sun tends to darken them and make them hang around much longer. Obviously, you need a good SPF, but I think it's also important to avoid the midday sun during this time (at least until the marks go away). I've found that even with sunscreen, any pigmentation can get worse if I'm spending a lot of time outside. Basically, I have to wear a hat or be a vampire for now!

Preventing new breakouts: As someone with acne-prone skin, I always have to be vigilant about prevention. I think my routines had been working so well for me, I got a bit overconfident when I went to try Drunk Elephant, never imagining it could break me out so badly! Lesson learned—I need to stick with simpler formulas with fewer, more lightweight ingredients.

As usual, most of the products below were purchased by me. For details on how I evaluate ingredients lists, see this tutorial.

One thing I'm doing differently this time is including my skincare gadgets, like the ZIIP, where they would fit within my routine (since a lot of you guys asked about this). But if I'm pressed for time, I certainly skip those extra steps.

My Morning Skincare Routine

1. Cleansing Water:

S.W. Basics Cleanser

If I'm going to start my day by working out and/or using my ZIIP, I won't jump in the shower to wash my face. I'll simply saturate a Shiseido Facial Cotton with the S.W. Basics Cleanser and pass it over my skin. This is a cleansing water that contains rosewater, glycerin and tea tree oil—that's it! Unlike micellar waters, you do need to rinse it off. It's gentle yet effective and leaves your skin super soft. I will definitely purchase again!

2. Conductive Gel:

ZIIP Golden Gel

If can spare the 15 minutes or so that it takes me to ZIIP, I'll apply the ZIIP Golden Gel next. You always have to use a gel like this to ensure proper conductivity of the electrical current. This one is very gooey and an anti-aging treatment in itself, as it is spiked with various peptides and growth factors. Since it can migrate into my hairline, I like to do this whole procedure before I have a shower.

3. Microcurrent:

ZIIP Nano Current Device

Then I use the ZIIP Nano Current Device. It syncs with your phone, where you can choose from several programs, depending on what you want to target. For each one, there's a step-by-step video to watch with founder Melanie Simon. Usually, I like to do the 12-minute "Energize" treatment for firming, tightening and brightening, followed by a few minutes of "Total Clearing" for treating and preventing acne. Honestly, I do see a difference!

4. Cleansers:

Youth to the People Superfood Face Wash and Omorovicza Cleansing Foam

Next, I jump in the shower and wash my face with one of two cleansers I have in there at the moment. I recently bought the Omorovicza Cleansing Foam, after much internal debate because it's ridiculously expensive... yet the reviews are so positive. I'm glad I finally pulled the trigger! It's creamy yet foamy and just SO GOOD. Probably the best cleanser I've ever used, and that's saying a lot.

To make it last longer, I'm alternating it with Youth to the People Superfood Face Wash, which is actually a very nice gel cleanser. I don't find it drying at all, which is unusual.

5. Acid:

COSRX BHA Blackhead Power Liquid

When I step out of the shower, I slather on a generous layer of the COSRX BHA Blackhead Power Liquid, my favourite beta-hydroxy acid (BHA) treatment (reviewed here). Not only has it helped to clear my Drunk Elephant-induced breakouts, but it also works on fading the dreaded post-acne marks. And did you know that BHAs can also reduce redness? I was so relieved to go back to this product after T.L.C. Framboos left my skin dry and inflamed!

6. Eye Cream:

Odacité Ultra Effective Eye Cream

At the same time as I do my BHA, I also put on the Odacité Ultra Effective Eye Cream. I recently bought this because it's made with all-natural ingredients including aloe vera, olive oil and jojoba oil. It's very light, and non-irritating.

7. Pigmentation Treatment:

SkinCeuticals Discoloration Defense

To give the BHA enough time to work, I wait about 20 to 30 minutes before my next step, SkinCeuticals Discoloration Defense. For the job of fading post-acne marks, I figured this treatment would be ideal! It contains five percent niacinamide, which targets both hyperpigmentation and redness, along with tranexamic acid for brown patches, kojic acid for brightening, and sulfonic acid for exfoliation. I was a little nervous because it has a thicker texture than most serums, but it hasn't broken me out at all. And the reviews are very positive!

8. Moisturizer:

Biologique Recherche La Grande Crème

As soon as the serum has absorbed, I apply a small amount of Biologique Recherche La Grande Crème, a moisturizer that I was also using in the winter. Normally, I'd switch to lightweight serums and essences in the warmer weather, but this cream is incredible—so light and non-greasy, yet hydrating. Also, it helps eliminate the flaky skin I tend to get from using an acid twice a day. The problem is, I don't know what I'm going to do when it runs out, because the brand sent this to me and it's $800+ Canadian!!!

9. Sunscreen:

Juice Beauty Stem Cellular CC Cream SPF 30

For sunscreen, I'm using the Juice Beauty Stem Cellular CC Cream SPF 30 right now (while I wait on the new REN Clean Screen the brand promised to send me, since it's not sold in Canada yet!). This one, reviewed here, has 20 percent zinc and comes in five sheer tints, so I basically use it in place of foundation or tinted moisturizer. The finish is pretty dewy, but it's nothing that a little powder can't fix.

10. Concealer:

W3ll People Bio Correct Multi-Action Concealer

Next, it's time to conceal those marks, and I recently started using the W3ll People Bio Correct Multi-Action Concealer. Unlike most natural concealers, it gives opaque but natural-looking coverage, even though it is silicone-free! Where has this been all my life?

For "pinpoint" concealing of pimples and dark marks, I apply it with the Kevyn Aucoin The Concealer Brush, an amazing brush with a tiny tip. I find it covers just as effectively as the Make Up For Ever Full Cover Concealer, which I was using before. But you can also use it for larger areas, such as dark circles, and it still looks super natural. I apply it there with the RMS Beauty Eye Polish Brush.

By the way, this is the only coverage product I'm wearing in the photo above, not even the CC cream or any powder. And I had a lot of marks to cover up... it works that well!

11. Powder:

ILIA Soft Focus Finishing Powder

If my T-zone looks too shiny, I reach for my favourite ILIA Soft Focus Finishing Powder, a translucent corn starch- and silica-based powder that absorbs oil without drying you out. I always apply it sparingly with the Clinique Eye Shadow Brush instead of a big, fluffy brush, so I don't look too powdery.

12. Bronzer:

RMS Beauty Contour Bronze and Buriti Bronzer

Ever since RMS Beauty founder Rose-Marie Swift told me my skin was too red to wear blush (she's blunt like that!), I switched to bronzer instead. I alternate between both of her bronzers; Contour Bronze is deep and brown-toned, while Buriti Bronzer is lighter with a hint of pink. They're so sheer, they just give a hint of a sun-kissed look when I sweep them across my cheeks and the bridge of my nose (using the Skin2Skin Blush Brush).

13. Freckle Pen:

Stila Stay All Day Waterproof Brow Color

I know this sounds kinda crazy, but when I have time, I like to create and/or deepen the freckles across my nose with the Stila Stay All Day Waterproof Brow Color. It's an old makeup artist trick to make your makeup look more natural; I also find it balances out my freckle pattern (since mine tend to be darker on the sides of my face, which isn't so cute). I was using Anastasia Beverly Hills Dipbrow Pomade before, but I find this pen stays put longer. I also have the Freck OG Freckle Pen on order, which I suspect will be even better!

14. Highlighter:

RMS Beauty Living Luminizer

For a little glow, I always use RMS Beauty Living Luminizer across my cheekbones, applied with the Kabuki Polisher. I swear, that little bit of light reflection makes people think you have better skin!

15. Face Mist:

Omorovicza Queen of Hungary Mist

I hate my skin to look too "done," so mists are great for taking away any powdery residue. I've been getting into Omorovicza Queen of Hungary Mist lately because it dispenses such a lovely fine mist (and of course, smells gorgeous).

16. Tinted Lip Balms:

Kosas Kosasport LipFuel Hyaluronic Lip Balm and Lanolips Rose Gold 101 Ointment

I have two new tinted lip balms in my rotation. Lanolips Rose Gold 101 Ointment is a new rose gold version of their original clear balm, and I'm obsessed! It's what I'm wearing in the photo above—just gives a nice coral-red tint with all the moisturizing benefits of pure lanolin.

The other is the Kosas Kosasport LipFuel Hyaluronic Lip Balm, which I find more pigmented, almost like a sheer lipstick. Of the two shades, I prefer the lighter, pinkier one called Rush; Pulse is a more intense brick red.

My Nighttime Skincare Routine

1. Makeup Remover:

BIOeffect Micellar Cleansing Water

My first step at night is to do a first pass over my skin with BIOeffect Micellar Cleansing Water on a Shiseido Facial Cotton. I might have to permanently switch from Bioderma, I like this micellar water so much! Even though it's a "clean" product, there is zero difference in effectiveness.

2. Cleanser:

Odacité Black Mint Cleanser

Next, I wash my face with the new Odacité Black Mint Cleanser. You might assume it would be harsh, since it's a gel formula with charcoal, clay, tea tree oil and mint. But you would be wrong! It becomes a little creamy when it lathers, and gives you a deep clean without leaving your face tight or stripped. Love! 

3. Cleansing Brush:

Foreo Luna 2 for Combination Skin

As usual, I like to use the Foreo Luna 2 for Combination Skin in conjunction with the Odacité Cleanser. It never irritates my skin like other cleansing brushes, and ensures that all traces of dirt, oil and makeup are removed. My skin can also get a little flaky from the BHA, and this helps buff that off.

4. Toner:

Biologique Recherche Lotion P50 PIGM 400

After I pat my skin dry, I use Biologique Recherche Lotion P50 PIGM 400 (again, on a Shiseido Facial Cotton) as a toner. Yes, I know it's an acid treatment, too, but let me explain my thinking on this. After researching Padma Lakshmi's skincare routine, I was reading up on her facialist, who says that EVERYONE needs to be using a toner. I've been struggling with this, because no toner seems to play well with my BHA—I always get a flushing reaction due to some unknown ingredient interaction. Then it occurred to me to try P50, and it doesn't do that! Bonus: The anti-pigmentation ingredients in PIGM 400 will help me with the post-acne marks, too.

5. Microneedling:

BeautyBio GloPro Microneedling Regeneration Tool

Here's where I'd fit in microneedling, although I definitely don't do this every night—more like once or twice week right now, and I couldn't do it when I had active acne. I'm using the BeautyBio GloPro Microneedling Regeneration Tool, which has a 0.3 mm needle length, the maximum I'd roll with at home. I'm just easing into it because it does make my skin temporarily inflamed and a little dry. Hoping I can build up a tolerance, the more I do it!

6. Hyaluronic Acid:

Timeless Hyaluronic Acid Pure

The main benefit of shallow needling is to increase the penetration of your topical products, but you've only got about 10 to 15 minutes before the needle holes close up! So, right away after rolling, I apply a few drops of Timeless Hyaluronic Acid Pure, which is a high-molecular weight hyaluronic acid serum with only four ingredients. According to the doctors at BareFacedTruth, there's a real risk of granulomas and reactions if you apply the wrong topicals on freshly needled skin—that's why this simple serum is one of the few products I'd consider safe. 

That said, you can get even better results from applying vitamin A, so I want to buy Environ A, C & E Oil next! Even though it's technically a body oil, it has been used with great success by microneedling expert Dr. Des Fernandes after treatments.

7. Red Light Therapy:

Red Light Man Red Light Device

Then, it's a good time to do red light therapy to take down the inflammation from microneedling. Even though the GloPro has a built-in red light, I prefer a separate 10 minutes session in front of my Red Light Man Red Light Device, which is MUCH stronger. I actually use this almost every night, whether I've needled or not, as it's so beneficial and relaxing! More on red light here and here.

8. Acid:

COSRX BHA Blackhead Power Liquid 

After about 15 minutes, once the needle holes have closed up, I apply some COSRX BHA Blackhead Power Liquid again. (If I'm not needling, I do this straight after the P50.) For my last two routines, I was using the salicylic acid pads from First Aid Beauty or B. Kamins at night, but I've come to the conclusion that the COSRX works better for me. I think it might be the penetration enhancer, because my skin is clearer with this one. 

9. Eye Cream:

Drunk Elephant C-Tango Multivitamin Eye Cream

The only Drunk Elephant product I stuck with after my test was the C-Tango Multivitamin Eye Cream, which I recently purchased. What I like about this is that it's creamy, yet fast-absorbing, and it hasn't irritated my eye area so far. Plus, there's a good amount of vitamin C derivatives in here for brightening.

10. Retinoid:

A313 Vitamin A Pommade

Then, I need to wait about 20 to 30 minutes before I apply my final skin step, A313 Vitamin A Pommade (reviewed here). So, usually this happens from bed! This is still my favourite retinoid—especially after giving it up for a week to test out A-Passioni, which gave me the cystic acne from hell. Even though A313 is far greasier, it's far less comedogenic, and I love how strong it is!

11. Lip Balm:

Lanolips 101 Ointment Multipurpose Superbalm

Last but not least, I always use Lanolips 101 Ointment Multipurpose Superbalm, a pure lanolin balm, to keep my lips nourished and free from chapping. It also works great on dry cuticles!

Conclusion

My spring skincare product from Odacité, Omorovicza, W3ll People, Drunk Elephant, BIOeffect, SkinCeuticals, ZIIP, Biologique Recherche, S.W. Basics, BeautyBio and Kosas.

So there you have it—my complete skincare routine for getting rid of post-acne marks while preventing future breakouts. 

I know it sounds like a lot of steps, but keep in mind that I'm not ZIIP-ing and GloPro-ing daily. And yes, I do fall asleep sometimes before I get the chance to apply my retinoid!

I'll be reporting back with more detail on both of those products, so stay tuned. And let me know if you're interested in reviews of any others—the cleansing water, concealer and lip balm are so inexpensive, you NEED to try them!

Shop My Skincare Routine

Have you tried any of the products in my spring routine? Which skincare products are you loving lately?

How to Do My Spring Skincare Routine for Post-Acne Marks syndicated from The Skincare Edit

[stubbornessissues]

Oh my god I love you no one ever writes 7 days to die aus please write/ref more!!

Ahhh, you should bless @gaywood for giving me the prompt in the first place! 

{ AO3 Link }

but okay, I love to think about them not knowing each other at first, and it’s like Ryan collects a whole pack of them that follow him around like puppies as he passes through dead or dying towns

and maybe they’re the first people he’s come across who are decent, who aren’t out for his blood and the guns he’s built with his own two hands or the tins of food that sit heavy at the bottom of his pack. 

There’s Jack who snatches his arm as he’s sprinting from a horde, pulls him into a room that’s well fortified, and Jack’s clearly been there for a while, if the amount of stuff in the room is anything to go by; and he’s obviously got it from other people- killed them, Ryan thinks, and he’s quick on the draw- but Jack ignores him, keeps his ear pressed to the door, tense, before deflating. They’re safe.

Jack saved his life and he’s still got his pistol trained on him, even as Jack blinks at the gun, confused for a moment before moving on to check the other barricades. 

It turns out, after Ryan drops his gun- but doesn’t relax, because you can’t if you want to survive, not for a second- that Jack’s been in the carcass of this dead town for a long time, helping out anyone that passes through, offers them shelter, food, medical supplies, and asks for nothing in return.

Ryan’s sure he’s fallen into a ditch and hit his head because people this good were rare enough before the world died, and to find one in an even harsher, more cruel place than it used to be is nothing short of a miracle. 

Jack’s made a home that he’s happy with, but Ryan, Ryan doesn’t feel safe, and he itches to move on. Thanks Jack with a weapon he built, and the know-how to make more, and leaves, after a week, with the promise to visit if he ever comes in the vicinity of this town again. 

He doesn’t make it more than a day’s travel, reaches the desolate desert roads and veers off them to hide in the decaying woodland when he hears telltale noises of a horde; then he catches the shrieking, high pitched and panicked, but resolute in anger. “You mother fuckers can’t catch me!”  

Idiot.

The zombies, in Ryan’s experience, still understand some human cues, and the taunts actually spur them on, if the drawn out “hoooly shit, you fuckers are fast” is anything to go by.  

“Holy shit get out of here dude they’re coming and these fuckers are quick”

The guy comes pounding down the opposite end of the trail Ryan’s following, with three zombies on his trail, and, without thinking, he’s moving for the trees, clambering up to the low branch and dropping his hand for the guy to follow him. 

Those zombies are really pissed.

Ryan has to wonder about what the guy did to turn them so blood thirsty as he pushes the man further up the tree before pulling out his pistol with steady hands. 

He’s done this before. 

       Deep breaths, line up the shots.

             Crack, crack, crack.

They’re all dead, and Ryan and the guy are left straddling branches, breathing heavy. 

“Holy shit dude, you just saved my life,” the guy pants, nudging Ryan’s shoulder with his foot. “Thanks for that.”

He looks remarkably well put together for somebody surviving an apocalypse- sure he’s sporting an unkempt beard, but- his clothes look remarkably clean, his shoes oddly shiny. 

“What did you do to piss them off so badly?” Ryan can’t help his curiosity, he’s never seen zombies move so fast in the three years he’s been living through this hell. 

“I dunno, I killed their god or something…” He’s struggling  to manoeuvre himself to drop down and Ryan can only watch, utterly baffled.

“Y- you killed… their god?” He repeats

“Yeah,” The guy drops to the ground below and shuffles his sleeves up to inspect himself for injuries- and he has an impressive sleeve of tattoos that mesmerise Ryan where he sits- before carrying on, unperturbed. “There was this pretty beefy zombie with like a cop uniform that they were all giving gifts to and bowing down before it. It was pretty fucking creepy if you ask me.” 

“Okay….?”  Because Ryan doesn’t know what to say to that. 

Then they just stay there, staring at each other, Ryan still sitting in the low branches and the tattooed man stood below watching him like he’s trying to put some puzzle together. Then Ryan coughs, just because he’s looking for some kind of noise.

“You looking for somewhere to rest up? because there’s this guy I met in the town about a day’s walk that way.” Ryan jerks his thumb in the direction he came. “Let me stay with him a whole week for nothing.”

“Are you serious? Holy shit, thanks dude. I had to get out of there fast and I sort of dropped my backpack along the way, so I could do with the food.” 

“I’ll secure it in a tree or something if I happen to find it on my travels.” Ryan teases, finally lowering himself from the tree and landing heavily

“It’s actually got my name on it- Geoff- so it shouldn’t be too hard to find.” 

And because Ryan feels he still needs to be paying back the good the world offered him in the form of Jack, he tugs another pistol free and offers it to Geoff.  “If we ever meet again, I’ll take that back, but I can’t just let you wander without some protection.” 

A drop of rain splashes against the metal of the gun, making them both look up.

“Better hurry up if you want to keep dry.” Ryan’s already shouldering his pack properly and making to leave, without another word. He’s sure he can replace the guns he’s spent in the next town, or even along the road if he finds some cars with their engines relatively untouched. 

Ryan leaves the Zombie God Killer Geoff in his wake, thinks he’s one of the ones that will become nothing in the mess of blurred together days in his memories- never mind the hollowness that fills him after Jack’s town is left days behind- but he starts to miss the noise of having someone about, of having somewhere warm to settle down at night and just as he finds himself wondering if he should team up with the next person he comes across (provided they’re not a grade A douchebag) he actually finds someone.

He finds them fighting for their life on a narrow bridge leading into a small village. 

It’s truly a sight to behold. 

For once, it’s blissfully not the groaning, squelching movement of zombies, but a refreshingly human fight that Ryan’s privy to. Between a guy who Ryan can easily tell is young, in his early twenties and a pair of hulking assholes that just radiate their awful intents all the way back to where Ryan’s emerging from the trees, and as he approaches, he watches as the little one twists around one of the guys aiming to grab him. He twists around and he slams his foot into the guy’s back, sending him stumbling into the water below with a colossal splash

The sight of Ryan, strolling towards them bearing guns at his hips and hanging off his backpack is enough to send the other guy packing, collecting his dripping friend on the way.

“You better fucking run you dickbags!” 

and okay that guy is young and impressively violent; Ryan can see why he’s survived so long. 

“You want a piece of me too?” the kid yells, making Ryan halt. 

“I’m just passing through.” He calls back, sure to keep his distance. 

and because he can’t keep his mouth shut. “Unless you really want one? Can’t guarantee I’ll be much of a challenge but…” He shrugs his shoulders and continues on towards the bridge, the only entrance to the village, unless he fancies wading through the river.

“You the bridge troll or something?” and okay, Ryan really needs to stop, he just watched this kid kick two asses twice the size of him, he could easily take on worn down, road weary Ryan, who’s not really had a fight since he met Geoff. 

He thinks he’s in for it, but the guy just pulls a beanie out of his pocket with a laugh and tugs it on over his greasy curls. “Something like that. You’re alright though, you can pass.” 

“Gee thanks.” 

“I’m just trying to keep my friends and I safe. People see this village and they think it’s easy pickin’, but we were here first! We claimed it.” They’re walking together through the winding, gravelled streets and it feels oddly peaceful and tense at the same time, like they’re both sure they can take the other, but they’re still waiting for a move to be made.

So Ryan finds himself looking for conversation. “There many of you here?” 

“Just me and two others… why?” The kid is suspicious, and narrows his eyes at him.

Stupid. Of course that would come off shady in their current world state.

“I’ve just been on my own too long. Could do with some conversation.” 

There’s a snort from his side and he looks to the beanie kid to find him looking off at a building. “You’re going to love Gavin then,” and Ryan tracks his gaze to find it landing on two figures emerging from what may have once been a post office. “He never shuts up.”

One of them, in the distance- the taller one- is gesticulating frantically as they approach Ryan and his new companion. “Michael, Michael!” The two break into a sprint, “Michael, behind you boy!”

Michael, apparently, let’s out a hiss the moment he spins around, and Ryan follows him to be greeted by the sight of a nice full horde of around 15 zombies. 

“Goddammit, it’s one fucking thing after another around here! Please tell me you know how to use those guns?” 

It’s not even a question, Ryan’s passing one over to Michael before he’s finished speaking, and he takes aim. Fires. 

He wastes a clip and only three fall. Replaces it, fells four more before handing Michael another clip. 

Gavin and the shorter one join them with nothing but a baseball bat (which looks like it’s going to splinter in one hit) and a pretty solid looking sledgehammer. 

“Back up and take these.”  Ryan interrupts his shots to fumble rifle’s into the other guy’s hands. 

“Christ, please don’t give that to Gavin.”  Michael snaps, reaching out to swap his pistol with the rifle.

They keep firing, backing up, firing, backing up, and the zombies seem to keep coming, streaming in from the bridge and whatever other path there is leading into the village.

“I think the noise is drawing more of them.” The smaller, more muscular one has a deeper voice than Michael and Gavin. “We should maybe stop firing, take them out the good old fashioned way.”

“If you want to get yourself bit Lil’ J, be my guest.” 

Ryan can’t help but snort at that. “Lil’ J?” It’s accurate, he supposes- in the sense that the guy’s only just over five foot tall, but that’s about the only thing he can see that’s small.

“Hi, how’s it going? My name’s Jeremy and I’m like 5′4 or something, haven’t exactly measured myself since the outbreak.” 

And oh Ryan likes these guys. (They’re kids, they’re all so young) He’s finding that he almost slots in with them when it comes to the fighting.

Jeremy was right, the noise of gunfire was drawing more in, and Ryan only had so much ammo. 

“Hi, I’m Ryan, and this is the last clip I’ve got for your rifles.” He returns in a cheap imitation of Jeremy’s humour while slotting his pistol back into it’s holster on his pack and offering Michael the last clip.

And now the stakes are raised, because he thinks this is it, this is the end of the outpouring of zombies, that came from seemingly no where- and Ryan just barely spares a thought for the two guys Michael fought earlier- there’s a handful left, but Ryan was carrying ammo for one, not four, and they’ve blown through it in a matter of minutes. 

They have to rely now, on the baseball bat, the sledgehammer, a crow bar and a tire iron.

It’s hard work, but they seem to fit in well, Michael and Ryan knocking the zombies off balance, Jeremy and Gavin coming in to smash their skulls in. 

(and it really is impressive that Jeremy can lift that thing) 

It works impressively well, right up until the moment one zombie lady seems to catch on to what they’re doing, and Michael, putting too much into his lashes is left stumbling past her. She catches him by the hood of his jacket, reaches a hand hand around him, and slashes as he moves to twist out of her grip.

Michael’s suddenly on the ground, shouting, bleeding. 

As Jeremy lets out a vicious cry, Gavin rushes to Michael, panicked and if Ryan had time to look, he would be sure to see the boy’s hands trembling as they move to grasp Michael’s face. But there isn’t time. There are still zombies shuffling towards them- Jeremy had made swift work of the one that sunk it’s claws into Michael-  but their numbers, now, are few, and they know that they can get this done between the two of them. 

As the last one drops, they’re left panting, bloody and with aching muscles- Ryan doesn’t want to think about how Jeremy’s arms must burn,- with lines of dead bodies before them, completely unresponsive and most, with brains and skull shards splashed around them. 

They don’t take a single second to stop and admire it, Jeremy’s whirling around, dropping his hammer the second the final one falls. “Gav! Is he okay?” 

Gavin’s cradling Michael in his lap, trembling hands pressed against the wound and Michael’s face is scrunched up in pain, but his hands are trying to brush Gavin’s away, so that they can actually look at it first.

Jeremy and Ryan approach them, both crouching down next to them and he can already see that it’s just a scratch, lot’s of blood but nothing too dangerous. 

“Gavin, let go for a minute will you?” He finds himself saying, already shouldering his pack off and delicately searching for his water bottle and the bandages Jack had insisted he take.

Sheepishly the man does shift his hands away, moving to hold Michael’s shoulders steady instead. 

It looks fine; not that he can know for sure until the blood is cleaned away, but in Ryan’s experience, zombie claws aren’t sharp enough or strong enough to cut so deep that they find organs.

“Have you guys got anything I can wash it with?” He just needs a strip of clean fabric, but out here, after all this time, most things are covered with dust and grime.

“I’ll see what I can find.” Jeremy disappears into a nearby building and leaves Ryan to get on with doing what he can, searching for the needle and thread he knows sits in a tin somewhere in a side pocket, alcohol in another to sterilise the needle.

“I’m not great at this,” He tells the two boys whose stares he is overtly aware of as he works at packing things back in their proper place. “but you learn a thing or two when you travel on your own.” 

“You haven’t found somewhere to settle?” Michael asks, and Ryan wishes he had painkillers better than just a distracting conversation.

“No where feels safe enough.” He offers with a shrug, rinsing his hands, just as Jeremy returns with a blessedly unopened pack of dish cloths, a beautiful shade of white that Ryan hasn’t seen in such a long time.

“I did meet someone last week though, in a town not far from here, who just took in anyone that needed help, let them stay as long as they needed and never asked for anything.” He works as he speaks, hoping that his words are something for Michael to focus on over the pain. “I left after a few days… I dunno, I just got itchy to keep moving, y’know?” 

And that was the fact of it. Peace was never enough for him. Ryan needed a goal, something in sight that he could make his way towards. 

It was always just get to the next town, avoid the cities, avoid people. Gather and build. 

“I was the same way.” Michael grinds between his teeth as Ryan tries and fails to be soft as he cleans away the blood. “Before I found these assholes. Turns out I just needed something to fight for, something that I should keep safe.” 

The ground he’s kneeling on feels too hot through his jeans, he feels painfully aware of the sun beating away, the water sloshing in the river not too far away, and the body of Jeremy pressing close, hovering in some hope to help. 

“Someone take his hand, this is going to hurt.” He instructs instead of responding- because Ryan has known that truth for a while, somewhere deep inside himself he’s wondered about finding a home, a family, and having them to protect, and that, it turned out, terrified him.

He wants it. 

He aches for it now that the thought is tangible. 

“Fuuuuck.” Michael groans as the needle first pierces his skin, but he is otherwise determinedly silent through the rest of the stitching.

It’s a tough few minutes for Jeremy, whose hand blooms an embarrassing pink before turning white from how hard Michael grips him, but no one makes a noise, the silence clings to them and it feels so terribly overwhelming to Ryan, who is suddenly very responsible for this kid’s wellbeing. He feels almost as though hes responsible for them all, despite their apparent, pre-existing unit.

“Maybe we should get you back to that town…” Ryan finds himself saying, “Jack’s something of a miracle worker, and I’m kind of curious how the zombie-god killer I met is getting on.” There was little to think about on the road, so Ryan’s thoughts often snapped back towards the little home Jack had made for himself.

It’s not because he misses the company. 

“The….Sorry, the what?” Crows Gavin

“Yeah, that was about my reaction.” Ryan knots the thread somewhat untidily and snaps it with a pocket knife. “Met a guy on my way over here who was sprinting by like his ass was on fire…. Turns out it was just three zombies, but they were super pissed about something. So after I killed them for him, he told me about this bigger zombie that they were all like worshipping, and this guy- Geoff- for some inane reason thought it a bright idea to kill the thing and taunt the zombies.”

For a moment, there’s silence again.

“Wow, okay. I wanna meet this guy.” Gavin intones. 

And they sure as fuck meet him. 

They find Geoff and Jack fleeing from a sizeable fire near the northern exit of the city, panting heavy breaths and fumbling to hold on to a myriad of Jack’s supplies.

“Not that it’s not good to see you again,” pants Geoff, shoving things into Ryan’s arms. “But we’ve gotta move, like, yesterday.”

[tony-pork-blog]

"Thank You," He Grinned: Vikturi AU part 1

Shattered /’SHadərd/ Adjective 1) Broken into many pieces 2) Damaged or destroyed

Shattered. The best way to describe my heart as the day of the wedding grew nearer. I knew I loved the beautiful woman I had proposed to, or at least I did love her at the time. I’m not quite sure anymore, but one thing is for certain. I can’t possibly let this happen, I am determined to get married. Life and love are two things I have neglected for many years and this is my chance to get them both back. The only person who can help me though, is the heart-smith. Like a blacksmith, the heart-smith repairs the hearts of those who had been crushed or broken by the force known as love. I had heard stories of him. How his black hair and squared glasses were a mere facade for you to leave him be. How he even uses parts of his own heart to repair the ones of those who are deemed worthy and determined enough. I’ve even heard that his own heart was broken so brutally and that’s how he’s been able to put his own soul into the amends he made to others without coming close to the awaited fate of many others who’ve been shattered. That it’s the reason he’s so committed to helping people like me. I wanted to believe that it was just jitters, but I couldn’t shake the thought that maybe it wasn’t. I had prepared myself for the worst of news he could possibly bear for me and wished myself the best. I ran my hand through the platinum hair that had appeared grey to many for so long- for reasons unknown I felt as if I had to impress this man though. My sparkling, blue eyes fell upon my reflection in the mirror, “What’s the worst that could happen, Viktor? Chin up,” I said to myself and with that I left.

Town Center, the heart of the city. ‘Of course this is where the heart-smith would set up shop,’ I thought to myself. Upon embarking on my journey in search for the small building, I was greeted by a woman who was best described as pink. Her cherry blonde hair and rosy complexion complemented her lightly coloured dress and sweetly she spoke, “Hello, welcome to Town Center! You seem upset, perhaps a recent rejection or break up? Maybe I could interest you in a new heart?” The woman was kind and I hated to turn her down, “I’m sorry, do you think you could point me in the direction of the heart-smith,” I asked, flashing my signature smile to the lovely, young lady. “It’s no problem, he’s at the end of this street to the left. If it doesn’t go well though, you know where to find me.” I gave my thanks and followed her instructions that led me to the doorstep of a good sized shack that had a cute little sign above the door reading his title. “Hello,” I called out as I pushed open the door and hesitantly entered, “Mr heart-smith are you here?” A slim figure with raven black, straight hair and pale colour emerged from what I could only assume to be the back room, “that would be me, how may I help you,” he asked with a charming grin. He seemed quite charming. Pulling my heart from it’s place I showed him the damage, “I’m only a mere 11 days away from my wedding and everyday my heart shatters more and more. I fear that on the day I get married it will have been destroyed completely beyond compare. Do you think you can help me?” “I don’t know how much help I could be to your situation, but I promise I’ll do my best.” His words were far from concrete reassurance, but I took comfort in them nonetheless. “Thank you so much, I don’t believe I caught your name though,” I looked at him. “My name isn’t really important. You can call me heart-smith,” he said almost apologetically, “What might your name be though?” “I’m Viktor. Viktor Nikiforov,” I replied and hugged the man, “I can’t possibly thank you enough though.” Yuri blushed, most likely from the sudden affection, and returned the many smiles I had given him “I’m just doing my job.”

The days passed by, one at a time and I waited. 2, 3, 4 days. 4 days I had gone to visit the heart-smith with a different surprise. Day one I came in with a cake I had baked him. After what he’s doing for me it’s the least I could do right? “Knock Knock,” I said as I pushed the door open with my shoulder, “I made you a cake to say thank you.” “Viktor, you didn’t have to. Nobody has ever made me a cake before,” he smiled timidly, taking my hands, “Thank you.”

Day 2 I only had myself. “Heart-smith, thought I’d come keep you company,” I called out as I let myself in and took off my coat. “Hey, Viktor, I’m back here,” I heard the black haired boy call from a different part of the shop. ‘For such a small looking place there sure is a lot of room in here,’ I thought as I followed the sound of his voice and there he was. He wasn’t as thin as I had previously thought, I studied him intently and noticed a slight muscular build, probably from the tedious work it would take to repair something as precious as the heart. His hair was nice too; It looked soft and shiny, not greasy and tangled. I knew I had stared too long when he let out a cough and a blush rose to his typically pale cheeks, “please forgive me, I must have dozed off for a second-” “It’s no problem,” he cut me off and lead me to a seat overlooking his work station, “I’m glad you came to see me, typically nobody comes until I’ve made my amends.”

Day 3 I became a bit concerned, every time I saw him he was constantly working and his dark circles were a bit more pronounced. I decided to go check, but not before I was thoroughly questioned by my fiancé, “Are you cheating on me? You’re never home anymore,” she would say, “Don’t you still love me?” To be fair, I had been neglecting her recently. I had to make this trip quick then. “Heart-smith! I came to check on everything,” I called, but there was no answer, “Heart-smith?” I made my way to every part of the shop looking for him till finally, “Heart-smith, are you okay,” I asked as I saw the person I now thought of as a close friend sitting on the floor with a very distressed expression on his face. “I can’t fix it,” he cried quietly, “there’s so much damage, I don’t know if I can do it.” ‘Oh no, please don’t cry,’ I internally panicked. I crouched next to him and pulled him close to my chest, “hey, you’re the heart-smith. You are the one that everyone talks about. I have faith in you.” He sniffled and wrapped his arms around me tightly, “that’s why I’m upset, what if I don’t meet your expectation? Please tell me you have faith in me, Viktor.” He looked up at me with teary eyes and I couldn’t help but to happily comply, “I have faith in you, Heart-smith-” “Call me Yuri,” he interrupted. “I have more faith than you would believe, Yuri. Now, what’s this damage that has you all worried,” I asked calmly. “There’s 6 very crucial pieces to a heart, everyone knows that. However, it seems that your heart in particular is now without 4 of those parts and I don’t know if I can fix it, all of the breaks are so deep,” the boy explained and I felt my soul leave for a second. “What will I do if you can’t repair it? Will I just live heartless for the rest of my life?” “You could get a heart from Mai down the road, but it’s so hard to find a heart that fits you perfectly. The only other option though is to have to live with these shattered remains until someone who loves you and you think you could love just as passionately slowly repairs it for you with pieces of their own,” he sighed and let out a small whisper, “kind of like what I do.” I looked at him in shock. So the legends are true, it seems, “I really want my heart to come out well and healthy, but if that means you have to take your own heart then I’m not interested. I’m not gonna do that to my friend.” I stood up rather quickly and took Yuri by the hand asking him to follow me. Together we went into the main area of that shack, “we are going to fix this heart together, no matter what,” I looked at the time on my watch and I had already been here much longer than anticipated, “We start tomorrow,” I stated and with one last hug I reluctantly left.

I have a bad feeling in my stomach, Yuri wore a determined look he as I left yesterday, but there was something else to it. Something I couldn’t identify. That heart-smith really was something, but I worry if he’s been treating himself properly. I especially wonder what it is that look meant and what he planned on doing while he wore it so proudly. I fell asleep after awhile of these continuous thoughts, after a short amount of time though I opened my eyes and I was back in the shop. Yuri was at his station swaying a bit as he worked and was humming a tune to himself, ‘was I dreaming,’ I asked myself. Without a moment to ponder an answer, Yuri collapsed. He was fine a minute ago! Or at least I thought he was. Frantically I tried to figure out what to do, but when I opened my eyes again I was no longer at the shop. I was in my bed heaving breath after breath as a thin layer of sweat covered my skin. ‘I have to go check on Yuri,’ I thought as I lifted the covers off of me and made haste to get cleaned up and dressed despite the many attempted of my beloved to get an answer from me.

“Yuri is okay, Yuri is okay,” I repeated to myself as if it were a mantra while barreled down Town Center. It was awfully empty today, more so than I’ve ever seen it. Without a moment more to think I had burst through the shop door with my chest heaving heavily and looked around, where’s Yuri? I went into every part of the shop I knew looking for him until finally I saw him. He was working, swaying, and humming a lovely song. Oh no. He turned to look at me with a grin, but he had definitely been in better shape. He took a step towards me and with that he began to fall and as all my instincts fled, all I could do was dive after him. I don’t know who hit first or who even hit harder, but judging by the pain in my shoulder and the weight on my chest, it was me. I opened my eyes as quickly as I could manage and tried to get him and I both off the ground. What do I do when I’m successful though? With him in my arms I searched for bed or couch to lay him on and during my search I found what I could only assume to be his bedroom. It was cozy, ‘very much like him,’ I thought. I got a damp rag and placed it on his forehead, telling myself I wouldn’t snoop, curiosity is a force stronger than good intentions though. Just from this one spot I could see a lot. His bed was made, so either he’s a typically clean person or he doesn’t sleep much. He was awake at 7:30 in the morning, so either he’s an early riser or he doesn’t sleep much. His face is covered in black smudges, perhaps he’s been working a lot this morning or he’s neglecting to shower or even stop working for a minute. The more I look into everything there’s two outcomes, the one I wish was true and the one that makes the most sense. As time passed I looked around more and more only finding things to feed the thoughts in my head. That dumbass. He’s already made himself pass out from what I can only assume to be exhaustion. My stomach rumbled and I forgot I wasn’t much better as I hadn’t eaten this morning or done anything to benefit my health actually. “What am I going to do now? It’s not like I can leave you here, but we both need to eat,” as if on a cue I heard a voice I recognized as Mai at the door, “Heart-smith, are you home,” she called. “Mai, he’s in here. He’s not doing so hot either,” I called out to her. “That idiot,” she huffed, “I know he hasn’t been treating himself too kindly lately, so I made him his favourite. I guess it’s all going to go to waste now.” My eyes flickered with relief, “He’s going to be hungry when he wakes up and I don’t know what I’m even doing. Does this happen often, is there any way I can help,” I badgered at her until my questions were satisfied.

Hours passed and Yuri finally had signs of coming to. He tried to sit up in bed and I plopped by him slowly pushing him back down, “How are feeling,” was the first thing I asked, but so much was going through my mind. “I’m okay, I’m confused though. I mean this in the nicest way possible, but why are you here and why am I in bed fully clothed,” Yuri asked as he looked at me expectantly and rubbed the back of his neck. “I just came in for a visit and you collapsed, so I put you here to rest. As far as the clothes though, it would’ve been very rude of me to have undressed you while you were unconscious,” I chuckled trying to make light of the situation, “Now I have a question for you,” I paused and took both his hands, “have you been taking care of yourself? I’m worried you haven’t been eating or sleeping properly.” He fell silent and lost the light in his eyes, “I see.”Grabbing the bowl of katsudon that Mai had left I handed it to him and tried thinking clearly. Why was this the way he handled himself? What could possibly be any more important than your own health and well being? But then I realized. Other people’s satisfaction. It’s the satisfaction of others that people crave so greatly even if it means neglecting yourself of the things you so desperately need. “Yuri, I’m sorry,” I said quietly as my eyes stayed glued to the floor, “I’m sorry if I pressured you. I’m sorry if I didn’t thank you enough. I’m sorry that you felt you needed to neglect yourself in order for everyone else’s joy to be restored, whether my fault or not.” One by one tears fell off my cheeks and spattered on my shoes. I felt a hand on my face wipe away the tears and lift my gaze. My eyes met his, they were a nice shade of dark brown that contrasted with his pale skin and the bright blue of mine, “it’s not your fault at all. I’m sorry I made you worry. Thank you for being a good friend,” he spoke and I couldn’t help but wrap him in a tight hug. We stayed like that longer than I bothered to keep track of. “The one thing I did manage in all that self deprivation though, is I fixed your heart.” Yuri pointed at a small box on his dresser, “it just needed a little love.” My eyes widened, “Yuri-” “No need to thank me, I was just helping out a friend,” he smiled and when I attempted to give him another hug he just held out his hand, “go see your fiancé, she probably needs to hug you a lot more than I do considering the past few days.” He was right. I hated to admit it, but I had been spending significantly more time here than at home. “You’re invited to the wedding you know. It’s the least I could do after everything you’ve done for me.” “I’ll make sure to be there,” he smiled and waved me off, “Just make sure to come back and see me though. I’d hate to have to be all by myself again.” “You’ve got a deal,” I grinned and followed his order.

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New Post has been published on http://health-womens.com/beauty-tips-and-tricks-to-try-out-4/

Beauty Tips And Tricks To Try Out

This article contains information on a number of common beauty concerns.Keep reading to see beauty trade secrets that can use these ideas everyday to be more beautiful.

TIP! Studies have shown that people find beauty in symmetry. If you wish to look your best, symmetry is something to focus on.

You should use the product Vaseline to treat your eyebrows with a nightly application of Vaseline. This will help your eyebrows and shiny. Be certain not to get vaseline on any other part of your face, because it can lead to unwelcome breakouts of pimples.

You can look for beauty in a number of things. Maybe you see beauty in the trees along your own street, or a special someone. When you look for beauty, you’ll find you feel more beautiful yourself.

Use moisturizer on your face. Even those who have greasy or oily skin will benefit from using a moisturizer regularly.Make sure to use a moisturizer that doubles as sunscreen.

Keep a moisturizer in your skin looking fresh. Keeping skin moisturized will help to negate the effects of the cold weather.

Heat-activated styling products will actually protect your hair from damaging heat. Using these tools on daily can damage your hair.

Curl your lashes before you put on mascara. This will result in eyelashes that appear longer and gives your eyes appear fresh and rested. Beginning with the base of the eyelashes, squeeze and hold the curler for a moment. This should result in a natural curl instead of a sharp angle.

TIP! Moisturize your skin before putting on makeup. Moisturizers are great for your skin but also help spread your makeup evenly.

Don’t take scalding hot water in your showers or baths. Hot water will enlarge your pores and lets natural skin oils escape.You will then wash them away. This has the added bonus of reducing your water heating bill.

Only apply shimmer in a few areas and only in places where you are sure it will be hit by light.This will give your skin a subtle glow. When you use highlighter, put it on your brows, brows and nose, and cheekbones; then set with loose powder.

TIP! When taking a bath or shower, don’t use hot water. In hot water, your pores will open and your skin’s natural oils can escape.

Use a shimmer blush unless your skin is blemish-free and flawless.Shimmer blushes will accentuate imperfections like scars or acne. You can hide skin free of imperfections by using a matte blush.

Try to stay away from caffeine if you’re looking to improve your beauty. Limit your intake of coffee and tea to one cup per day. Drinking decaffeinated coffee or quality green tea is also a good idea to help your nutrition.

Makeup artist rely on the power of pink shades to distract from problem areas on the face. It takes away the visual impact of acne and tired eyes.

Rosewater and cucumbers can be used to treat dark circles under your eyes. They contain natural components which will not only lighten the under-eye skin tone but also cool your eyes. Dip a cotton pad into rosewater or cucumber juice; lay down and place the pads on your closed eyes, and leave the pad over your eyes for 15 minutes.

TIP! A good eye cream is the best way to moisturize skin near the eyes. By keeping your eye area moisturized and healthy, you will be able to avoid dark circles, fine lines, and formation of wrinkles.

An excellent suggestion for achieving full lips is going glossy. Outline your lips with some bronzer darker than your skin. Then make use of any top out with gold, gold or peach.

Take a break from heat styling periodically to allow your hair healthy and strong.

Shake the bottle up really well and then apply to your nails. You may find the color to be a tad lighter; however, but still very close.

Skin care is vital if you want to maintain confidence and looking more beautiful. You should also carry around lotion to keep your skin feels dry.

TIP! You can use inexpensive toilet paper as a remedy for skin that is too shiny. Surprisingly enough, the roughness of cheap toilet paper works great as an oil blotter.

Keratosis pilaris is a form of eczema characterized by raised bumps on the skin, minor skin ailment that you may have encountered if you’ve noticed bumps breaking out on your arms’ back sides. They are seen more often during the winter because the drier air causes the skin to dry out.

The ultimate goal is clean-looking skin that makes for a better appearance.

TIP! T

There are some things that should be avoided after a waxing session. Don’t jump into a hot shower or bath after waxing! These things could cause problems since your pores are open. You stand to benefit by waiting!

Don’t compare yourself to famous people or movie stars when thinking about how you look. You should be happy with your body.

TIP! Try to avoid wearing makeup every day. Doing this will ensure your face can breathe and remain healthy.

You can exfoliate the skin using everyday items such as honey, honey, brown sugar and a dab of olive oil. When you use this scrub, the sugar scrubs off dirt and dead skin while the other ingredients soften and soothe the skin.

Vitamin H is important nutrient for hair growth. Vitamin H helps to transform carbohydrates into energy and metabolizes proteins and fats. These are all crucial steps to growing process. Egg yolks and nuts both are foods that naturally contain biotin.

TIP! If you want your manicure to last longer, use a really good top coat. After you receive a manicure, make sure to apply a top coat, so you can seal and cure it.

You may be in a tough spot and in tears before meeting a group of friends or make an appearance.To reduce the look of red, use a cold, wet cloth on your eyes. Rinse out the washrag and repeat.

You have the information you need to establish a new beauty regime or improve an existing one after you’ve read this article. The ideas in this article are to help you enhance your natural beauty, and to allow you to portray your new confidence to everyone in your life.