#blood red skippers

[herpsandbirds]

Lipstick Skipper aka Blood Red Skipper (Haemactis sanguinalis), family Hesperiidae, Mera, Ecuador

photograph by Lim Cheng Ai

[updownlately]

but i’m scared (of what life without you’s like)

| leah williamson x reader | angst with a dash of hurt/comfort | 1.9k | a/n: got this req in today based of this fic from yesterday. was listening to 'how do i say goodbye' by dean lewis, and well, the stars aligned themselves. i tried to make this short but angsty so someone lmk if i was successful! anyways, happy reading 🫶 read part i. here

~~~

It’s a warm May day yet your blood runs cold.

You know football’s a physical sport, having been on the receiving end of brutal physicality many times.

Pushes, shoves, stud-up tackles, you’ve had your fair share of bruises to show for multiple ninety minutes of running around chasing a little sphere. 

Accidents happen, and you were very well aware. 

But accidents weren’t supposed to be like this.

Accidents weren’t supposed to be accidents.

Accidents weren’t supposed to involve stretchers immediately rushing to the field. 

Nor a silent crowd in a fully sold-out stadium. 

Swallowing hard, you helplessly felt your adrenaline kick in, body subconsciously sprinting faster than you’d ever ran before. 

Maybe you should’ve checked up on Leah after the blonde had taken the corner to the face. Maybe you should’ve been overbearing. Or looked into her eyes, so that you could’ve noticed the dazed look. 

You could’ve stuck around a second longer instead of running back on defence. 

You could have, you could have, you could have…but now you couldn’t.

There’s something about seeing an unmoving lump of limbs on the floor, especially of a loved one, chest tightening ever so cruelly, so painfully.

As you come to an abrupt stop beside Leah, you do your best to stay out of the medics' way. 

Your hands shake, eyes wide at the blood streaming down the side of her face, the gash above her eye nothing but a waterfall of red. 

You don’t realize it when the other girls reach you. 

You don’t feel it as Alessia gently wraps her arms around your waist, trying to gently usher you away.

You don’t move an inch though. You can’t. 

Your feet are rooted to the spot, eyes fixating on the way Leah’s chest isn’t moving up and down. 

She was supposed to be breathing heavily. She had to be. 

Sure she had insane fitness, but none of you on the team were yet at the point where seventy minutes of football didn’t feel tiresome- she surely wasn’t. 

So why wasn’t her chest moving up and down? Why wasn’t it in the steady rhythm that you loved to listen to when you’d cuddle up to her on late nights after a tiresome day. 

Why wasn’t her cheeky smile on her face? The consistent response of her ‘I’m fine’ she would mumble to you each and every time she took a hit or a particularly hard tackle. 

Why was she not up yet? 

It’s sometime between Lia stepping between you and your view of your girlfriend do you find your voice, panic and realization clear as you call for Leah. 

Once. 

Twice.

Then another time.

Yet no response.

You feel your own breathing pick up, blood rushing through your ears.

No.

No. No. No. No. NO. 

You don’t realize you’ve screamed the words out loud, teammates and opposing players alike sharing grim looks of sympathy as many of them turned away from the sight of the medics.

Doing your best to claw your way out of the striker's tight grasp, you fight Alessia, feet digging into the grass as you try to gain the momentum to be near the English skipper.

Each try though, left you more defeated, the blonde’s grip strong as the ground between you and Leah somehow only increased with each attempt. 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. 

The words rattle in your brain as you see a stretcher in your vision, sounds of sirens ringing faintly, so far away yet so close. 

Begging Alessia to let you go, you put all your effort into breaking her hold on you, your hands trying to unlock her linked ones, the striker only pulling you back into her chest in retaliation, gentle murmurs being whispered into your ears.

Tears streaming down your face, heart in your stomach, throat sore from all your screaming, you watch in horror as the sea of medics slowly fade from your view, Leah’s cleats oddly the only thing left on the pitch- no trace of blood, of cleat marks, of the weight of the medical bag- the blonde gone without a trace.

Falling to your knees as Alessia finally let go of you, you curled into yourself, sobs wracking your body as your forehead hit the ground, your hands coming to cover your ears as you tried to block out the shrill noise of the ambulances. 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. 

~~~

It’s the same words ringing in your head that has you jolting awake, you taking a deep inhale when you realize where you are, the familiar walls of your shared bedroom with Leah bringing you immediate comfort that has you slumping back into your pillow.

Feeling wetness on the fabric as you laid down, you realized you’d been crying in your sleep, your cheeks damp, forehead and body covered in a layer of swear as your shirt clung to you. 

Fear kicking in as you realized why you were awake at this ungodly hour, you whipped your head to the side, eyes adjusting to the darkness just enough for you to make out your girlfriend’s sprawled out form beside you.

Swallowing hard, the images from earlier haunting your mind, you held your breath as you tried to listen for Leah’s quiet breathing, unable to see her chest rising from the bundle of blankets she was buried beneath. 

She was awake, right?

Raising a shaking hand, you contemplated whether you should touch the blonde to soothe your worries. 

You didn’t want to bother Leah, well aware of just how long it took her to sleep tonight, the constant pounding in her head frustrating her more than she’d like to admit, only able to get her rest as her body slowly succumbed to the exhaustion of the day. 

Yet, with each second that passed, you got flashes of Leah lying face first in the graph, medics around her, the grass stained bright red, taunting you, teasing you as you wondered if you were imagining the breaths you were hearing. 

Heart pounding yet again, you wanted to be safe. Sorry didn’t seem like an option. 

Sorry wasn’t an option, not when it came to the love of your life.

Holding your breath, you tentatively reached out, hand shaking, moving mere millimetres every few seconds. 

You didn’t want to wake her, but you needed to feel that she was alright. 

Hand making gentle contact with the nape of the other girl’s neck, you froze as you felt her tense at your touch, muscles taut for a mere second before she relaxed into the feeling. 

Waiting a second for her to adapt to your slightly cooler touch, you softly traced the length of her spine, following the bony pattern down to the space between her shoulder blades, hand coming to a rest as your fingers splayed out, trying to maximize the contact you had with her. 

Feeling a sob of relief escape you as you felt Leah’s body move in time with her gentle breaths, you brought your other hand to cover your mouth, stifling the sound as you felt your chest wrack with the weight of the tension slowly dissipating. 

Doing your best not to move too much as your body shook, you wiped your tears with the hand covering your mouth, not yet ready to let go of your girlfriend, her mere physical presence providing you comfort you couldn’t ever express in words. 

Fabric of your sleep shirt tucked into your mouth as you held back shaky pants, you moved to lay on your side, needing to be able to see Leah before you’d feel your heart settle for the night.

You couldn’t lose her. You couldn’t afford to. Not now, and not ever.

Sunshine on your darkest days, the constant light at the end of the tunnel, the woman was your rock through thick and thin. 

She was the first person you’d ever truly trusted, and the last you ever would. 

She was cocky, over-confident, a cheeky tease, an energetic kid at heart. 

She was determined, loving, caring, attentive, respectful, thoughtful. 

She was the best thing you had and god did it terrify you that you could’ve lost her yesterday. 

A piece of your mind knew her injury wasn’t that serious, the lack of the blonde out-right fainting immediately a good sign, a comforting one really.

Yet, your heart still couldn't believe it, not yet at least. 

Letting your hand come to gently brush away the messy strands that had come to cover her face in her sleep, you let your thumb run over her eyebrow as you sighed gratefully. 

She was okay. 

She was here.

You repeated the words like a mantra in your head, trying to get your racing heard to settle.

Nodding to yourself as you tried to believe the statements, you bit the inside of your cheek as you felt Leah stir at your ministrations, your hand coming to an abrupt stop as she just barely opened an eye, taking a second to register that it was still late, nearly the middle of the night. 

Keeping your voice low as you watched her sleep-laden eyes briefly search yours, you resumed your earlier actions, hoping it would bring the blonde the same level of comfort if brought you.

“Go to sleep, yeah? I’ve got you. You’re safe….”

Feeling Leah sleepily nod at your quiet words, you felt your heart melt as she sluggishly pulled herself towards your body, a blonde mop coming to rest on your chest as she curled around your side, an arm coming to wrap around your waist as she held on tightly. 

“Love you…” 

The words were muffled, being mumbled into the cotton of the old t-shirt you’d stolen from the defender eons ago, yet you heard them clear as day.

“I love you too…so so so much…”

Your words were hoarse, but in her sleepy state Leah didn’t notice and you couldn't help but be glad.

Placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head, your lips lingering for a second, you inhaled deeply, trying to commit the easing restlessness in your body to memory, the weight of the blonde on your chest bringing you the reassurance you so desperately craved, the pair of you breathing in tandem as sleep overtook her again, content in the solace that your arms around her form brought.

You didn’t want to worry about what life would be like without the blonde, and thankfully, you didn’t have to. 

Here, with her on your chest, small breaths puffing against the arms you held her close with, you let your worries fall away, lump in your throat easing rapidly with each second. 

She was okay. 

She was okay and here in your arms.

She was okay, and so you were okay- and you couldn’t thank the universe enough for either of the two. 

And so with sleep beginning to creep up on you, you wiped the last few tears of relief away with the back of your hand, finally truly believing the words.

It would all eventually be okay- all of it- just as long as she was here with you.

[samkerrworshipper]

togetherness

matilda’s x reader

this one’s a long one so rip

also pls keep sending request lol i need ideas

your a rookie on the squad, struggling to find your footing in a team that you don’t think you fit into. what happens when a certain conflict arises between you and one of your teammates?

angst, little bit of fluff, 5k+ words

I couldn’t really give you a timeline on when I started to space out, when I started to check out. I knew chronologically it would have had to be a few weeks ago, after the world cup had started, just after my whole life had become a shit storm. It was a process, checking out of your own life, it took time, I think that’s why I couldn’t tell you the one moment that I started to, because there wasn’t an exact moment. Slowly the days just all start to smudge into one big mess, you can’t tell people what day it is anymore or when your last meal was. Which sounds stupid, because those are just mundane things. When you check out of life though those things stop mattering, for me I either sleep obtusely or I don’t sleep at all, I don’t eat, I forget how to look after myself. I try to be discreet about it for as long as I can, but eventually people catch on, especially when you are playing professional sport, because you are surrounded by doctors and athletes that know the signs of burnout.

At around two weeks, I think, I could tell my team was catching onto my behaviour. I was a mess, I came to breakfast in the morning with puffy red eyes from crying at night, I didn’t really talk to anyone unless I had to, I was always tired, I kept to myself a little bit too much. It was a matter of time until I was approached, probably told off for having a shitty attitude. I had predicted that, expected it. What I hadn’t expected was to be pretty much cornered in my locker before training by our team captain, Sam Kerr.

As one of the youngest on the team it was safe to say that I was pretty much terrified of our skipper. Not that Sam was a scary person, she was lovely, considerate to a fault. But she was terrifying in a sense that we all knew heading into the world cup she had one ambition and that was to win at home, at all costs. That’s a little bit intimidating, especially when you know that she is prepared to hand you your ass on a silver platter if you do absolutely anything to jeopardise that ambition.

I’d been sitting in my cubby, lacing my cleats up. Both of my airpods in, hoodie on, tracksuit on, puffer jacket hood on. If I didn’t scream unapproachable I don’t know what did. I’d been sitting there a little bit too long I think, staring at my shoe lace for a little bit long, long enough for someone to point me out to Sam. I’d gotten the fright of my life when Sam’s hand had very gently connected with my shoulder. I’d flinched back almost immediately, before turning around and realising where the contact had come from. Sam looked a little bit offended by my sudden reaction to her touch, but the concern left her facial expression fairly quickly.

“Are you okay kid?”

I hated that question. Three words that drove me insane. I don’t think anyone ever answered that question honestly, because it was so blunt. How were you supposed to honestly answer a person you didn’t trust with the answer to the question.

I pulled my airpods out of my ears purely out of respect, even though I could hear Sam perfectly clear.

“Fine, Cap.”

I thought my words would have been enough of an indicator that I didn’t want to talk to her but she’d taken it as an invitation instead to sit down on the bench beside me.

“You don’t look fine.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, hard enough to draw blood, and focused on completing the task of lacing up my cleats.

“Well I am.”

My answers were short and snappy, closed off. They didn’t leave room for imagination or interpretation. I was a blunt person, I spoke bluntly, I reacted to things bluntly. I’d always been that way and I was pretty sure I’d never change.

“Do you want to talk about it? Because I’m here for you.”

I gulped and finished tying up my first cleat, moving on to pulling the second one over my sock covered left foot. I always put the left one on first, it had become routine for me, that was how I’d tied them before I’d won my first game and I’d stuck with it, it was a superstition that I’d never been able to break and I didn’t see why I should break it now.

“I don’t have anything I need to talk to you about.”

My voice was betraying me, my voice and my eyes. I knew Sam would pick up on my aversion to looking at her in the eyes. I could blame it on focusing on tying up my shoes but she was also sitting directly above them and every time I lifted my eyes I just happened to focus on the wall behind her instead.

“Doesn’t seem that way, Ellie told me that she’s heard you crying in your ensuite at night, she says you don’t sleep very much, which I think your under eyes are enough supporting evidence.”

I let my eyes drift over to Ellie, she was standing on the complete opposite side of the locker rooms, talking anxiously to Kyra and Hailey. As soon as she looked up and met my eyes I could tell that Sam’s approach to me had been driven by her, the anxious look in her eyes was enough of a giveaway.

“Ellie doesn’t know what she’s talking about, the girl talks in her sleep most of the time or she’s on the phone to her girlfriend, I don’t think she’d be able to recall my night time activities.”

I focused back in on my cleats, knotting them furiously with my hands that I had now realised were shaking.

“She seemed to have a pretty good idea, we’ve all seen you’ve been checked out recently. I get if you don’t want to talk about it now around the girls. You seem to be having a bad day. So how about you get yourself through training and then you and I have a chat in private?”

It was phrased as a question but nothing about how she’d said the words came out as a proposition, it was an order. I would have tried to object but I knew it would be useless, Sam had made her mind up and once Sam had made up her mind there was no changing it.

“Sounds good skipper.”

My voice was nothing but dripping with sarcasm, it was my only way of pushing out my very clear distaste with the idea of having to talk to Sam after training. As soon as Sam stood up and I’d checked that both of my cleats were on properly I marched right over to Ellie, pulling her away from the conversation she was in and back over to my locker.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but telling on me to cap isn’t going to get you fucking brownie points with me, we aren’t friends Ellie, we’re not sleepover buddies. I am working tooth and nail here to be fucking respected and I just got a proper emotional dressing down from Kerr that was pretty much just her telling me that I needed to get my act together. If that doesn’t scream out not fucking respected than I don’t know what does.”

I watched all of the colour drain from Ellie’s face as she slowly became far more uncomfortable in the conversation. She wasn’t backing down though.

“I don’t know what fucking planet you are on y/n/n but we are just looking out for you. I hear you at night in the bathroom, sobbing and balling your eyes out. That doesn’t scream out okay to me. Sam wasn’t giving you a dressing down she was asking you if you were fucking okay, something that we’ve all wanted to do for a few weeks now, we were just all scared to because we thought you were going to rip our heads off, like you are doing to me right now. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about you right now because how you’ve been behaving as of late isn’t fucking normal and anybody in there right mind would be worried about you.”

Ellie and I’s argument had escalated enough that I could tell most of the locker room's attention had fallen to our heated conversation, neither of us were ready to back down though and that much was evident in how strong both of our glares at each other held.

“Fuck you, you aren’t the person who gets to decide whether or not I’m okay or not. So what if I’ve been keeping to myself? Maybe I needed some down time away from this fucking extroverted team that never gives me a fucking break.”

It was a personal dig, one that I had said far too loudly in a crowded room of girls that I actually really loved, it had been like word vomit though, getting thrown out in me and Ellie’s fight.

“That’s not fair and you know it, all anybody here has done is be nice to you and you’ve been a fucking dick to everyone for the last few weeks, it’s not normal. You were so happy at training camp but ever since we’ve gotten here you’ve lost your shit and it’s fucking pathetic because we are your team and family and you should trust us more than anybody else but you don’t you don’t give two shits about anybody here besides yourself and we can all see it. It’s embarrassing having your represent us in your current condition. Your a wreck. You didn’t deserve to be brought up from the under 20’s. Maybe if you spent less time in our bathroom at nighttime crying about how hard your sorry ass life was you’d realise there are people and things on earth that are more fucking important than you are.”

Ellie’s words had taken the air out of my lungs, it wasn’t what I’d expected and even her facial expression reflected that she was a little bit taken aback by her own words. They were personal, really personal. I blinked a few times, trying to get a footing in the conversation but I couldn’t, because what was I supposed to say to a person accusing me of being a selfish heartless team mate? Me and Ellie stood stock still, just staring at each other, both of us obviously waiting for the other to keep talking but neither of us could.

“Ellie Madison Carpenter, out on the field, right now.”

Steph’s voice echoed against the walls of the changerooms, everyone else was standing completely silent and still in the room. I looked around the locker rooms, aware that literally everyone besides Sam who had left the locker rooms after her talk to me had just heard Ellie’s speech. I was too shocked to do anything besides plaster my hand against my mouth and run directly into the bathroom that connected to the change rooms. I did my best to not let any tears fall until I’d locked the disabled bathroom door behind me and I’d slid down onto the floor. Was that actually what the team thought of me? That I was a selfish, useless, coldhearted bitch who was just here for herself? Ellie’s words had hurt my heart and soul, because I didn’t play for myself, I hadn’t ever.

I consciously could hear the frantic knocking on the bathroom door but my subconscious was doing its best to tune it out.

“Y/n, open the door, please.”

“Fucking Ellie, that kid has no fucking filter.”

“How are we supposed to explain to Cap that she locked herself in the bathroom?”

“Fuck we were supposed to be on the field five minutes ago, Tony is going to have a field day giving us fucking suicide sprints.”

Those were a few of the sentences that I made out through the door. They were enough to tell me that I needed to get my shit together, because one thing I couldn’t handle on top of the team thinking I was all of those things was the team thinking I was the fucking emotional mess that everyone seemed to think I was. So after letting whatever tears I had left fall, I flushed the toilet, in an attempt to try and disguise the sound of me furiously washing the redness off of my face then I walked towards the door, took a deep breath and unlocked it. Hailey and Macka were both waiting outside and were very clearly surprised by my exit from the bathroom.

“Alanna, don’t worry about getting skip, she’s out.”

I bit the inside of my mouth again, satisfied with the irony taste of my own blood filling my mouth.

“Sorry, just feeling a little bit sick.”

It was very clear none of them believed my excuse. I tried to push past them though, trying my hardest to avoid whatever awkward confrontation that I was apparently bound to, because both Ras and Mackenzie stopped me before I could take a step.

“Y/n. What Ellie said wasn’t true and it’s okay for you to feel emotions about that, she let the heat of the moment get to her.”

I gulped, swallowing the mixture of blood and sweat that was resonating in my mouth.

“I told you, I feel sick. I don’t give a shit what Ellie has to say, she’s very welcome to her own opinions, this is a free country, she has an issue I’d rather her say it to my face.”

My words were faulty, untrustworthy, like ice that was slowly cracking.

“You are allowed to be upset at her for saying that about you, it was mean and she was trying to get to you. It’s okay for you to have emotions about that.”

I pursed my lips, I hated confrontation. Confrontation was terrifying.

“I told you I just felt sick, I still do. I need to go talk to Tony, can I leave or am I being held hostage until I talk about emotions that I don’t have or feel right now?”

Hayley and Mackenzie both looked between each other, trying to think up another plan of attack but clearly not finding anything telepathically between themselves.

“You are free to go, we’re here for you if you need to talk.”

I rolled my eyes at the two of them.

“Thanks, I’ll keep a mental note next time I need a therapist to talk about my nonexistent selfish feelings with.”

The sarcasm rolled off of my tongue too easily as I walked out of the locker rooms and into the tunnel, slowly making my way out onto the field. It was night training, so the ground was cold and the bright white fluorescent lights were blaring down across the pitch. I looked out across the ground, the girls had already started running whatever drills they’d been instructed to start with which led me to ask myself the question of how long had I actually locked myself in that bathroom for?

I made my way straight over to Tony who was looking at me in that way he tended to when he was thinking about something.

“Ms y/l/n.”

He smiled at me, a little bit too kindly for my liking.

“Coach, I’m feeling a bit sick, I think I might have eaten something funny this morning, probably that granola that looked like it had been sitting out for a little bit to long, I think I should probably just rest for tonight, unless you want a granola vomit mess to deal with.”

Tony’s eyes studied me, my body language, silently assessing my every move.

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with what happened between you and Ms Carpenter?”

Fuck, that was me exposed. I looked down to my cleats, by default, because I couldn’t look into his eyes knowing that he knew I was lying straight to his face.

“She approached me, told me that she’d said some things to a teammate before coming out for warm ups that she was sorry for, that I should sit her out for a game because of it. Wouldn’t tell me who she’d spoken to, which made me think it must have been pretty serious.”

I gulped anxiously, fuck. Fuck Ellie for making this whole night a flaming hot pile of shit.

“It wasn’t anything bad, I feel sick, it’s got nothing to do with Ellie, I’m a big girl, I can handle my own problems, she shouldn’t sit out for a week, we need her.”

I let my eyes cross the field, to where Ellie was, her whole complexion had paled dramatically and she looked like she’d just been on a really high rollercoaster.

“We also need to look out for the safety of our players. I'm going to ask you this once and I want you to tell me the complete truth. Did Ellie personally attack you in the change rooms before training tonight? Don’t lie to me, I’ll ask one of your team mates if you do and I don’t want to hear that their answers were any different to yours.”

I bit down hard on my mouth tissue, there was a part of me that wanted to lie for Ellie, even though it would probably land us in more trouble, there was also a part of me that wanted to hand her in, even though in my eyes she hadn’t really done anything wrong, she’d said her peace.

“We were both giving it to each other, she gave as much as she got. I deserve to sit out a week just as much as she does if we’re referencing words said to each other, we were both rude, we got stuck up in the heat of the moment. I promise you, with every bone in my body that it won’t ever happen again, I swear to you.”

One thing that my brother told me when we were growing up was how to effectively lie. There was an art to the practice of lying. The first rule was body language, everyone had a tell, it was about identifying yours and then figuring out how to stop it or disguise it. For example, my youngest brother would always tap his left foot when he was lying. Rule number two is eye contact. You need to make some, but not so much that it’s creepy. People can tell when you refuse to make eye contact with them, so you need to occasionally. Third is your voice, it needs to be steady, your pitch and tone need to be consistent, one of the easiest tells is a raised voice when you lie. The fourth rule is physical change, this one is probably the hardest, because there isn’t anything you can do to stop yourself if you get clammy hands when you are lying, you just have to disguise it. The fifth and final rule is words, you need to use enough that your sentences are coherent but don’t over-sell yourself, summarise what needs to be said, instead of reading off a whole backstory.

I’d broken number five and two whilst talking to Tony and I could tell that he was picking up on it. He looked between me and the field before calling over one of my teammates.

“Mary, can I have you for a second.”

I gulped down the lump that was forming in the back of my throat when Fowler finished off the drill she was doing and ran over to the sideline to stand beside the coach and I.

“What can I do for you, coach?”

He smiled at her, I’d very quickly noticed that Mary was one of his favourites, rightfully so. She was a hard worker but she was also kind, Matilda’s captain material for the future.

“Can you give me a run down of what happened in the lockers before training between Ellie and y/n, from my understanding there was a small altercation, but both of them aren’t telling me the whole story and I don’t have time for beating around the bush.”

I looked at Mary, silently praying for her to downplay it, maybe she hadn’t heard much of it. She was the one to pick if you wanted an honest answer, she couldn’t lie for the life of her, I knew that much. She bit her lip subtly, thinking thoroughly before she said anything.

“None of us heard how it started, we all knew that y/n/n was the one to drag Ellie over to her locker after Cap spoke to her. They were arguing, it seemed harmless. Until Ellie was yelling in y/n/n’s face.”

Tony nodded at her inquisitively, clearly very invested in what she had to say.

“Did you hear what Ms Carpenter was saying to Ms y/l/n?”

I gulped, shaking my head as subtly as I could at Mary, this whole encounter was a headache.

“Look, it’s not really something I’m comfortable with repeating.”

I knew Mary was trying to be helpful but I also knew that statement was going to backfire on her because it made the whole situation sound a lot worse than it was.

“Mary, if you don’t tell me I will get someone else too, please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

Mary herself gulped anxiously, her eyes frantically darting between Tony and myself. I nodded at her, clearly seeing her distress and just giving her the permission to say her peace, because apparently it was going to get said anyways.

“She was yelling at y/n/n about how y/n/n was selfish and didn’t give a shit about anybody beside herself. I heard her using something about y/n crying in their bathroom at night against her, saying that she was too worried or self obsessed to care about anyone else on the team. I wasn’t close enough though to tell you exactly what either of them said. I was on the other side of the room, Steph was the closest, if you want information I’d be asking her, not me.”

I could feel my hands shaking in my pockets, this whole situation was giving me anxiety.

“Okay then, thank you, can you go fetch Steph for me, just tell her to come over here.”

Mary nodded at coach, before sending me a silent sorry smile before running back out onto the pitch.

Coach pointed to the bench that was on the sidelines a few feet behind us, silently motioning for me to follow him and take a seat down on it.

“Based on what I’ve just been told, I think that Ellie should sit out for a week, her behaviour towards you was unacceptable and she needs to understand there are repercussions for those kinds of situations. Y/n I know that you’ve struggled to find your footing in the team, I’ve seen you struggling with your mental health. I’m here for you if you ever need to talk about it or if you need help. If those struggles mean that you need to separate yourself from the team then that is what you do, regardless of the decisions you make you are a valued member on this team and you don’t deserve to be verbally assaulted because Ellie has a problem with you.”

I pursed my lips, I didn’t think I’d been verbally assaulted, if anything I’d started it.

“Coach, I started it with Ellie. She didn’t even mean what she said, we need her this week, it’s an important game that we can’t afford to have her miss. I don’t want to be the reason we lose this week just because me and Ellie had a minor altercation, it was nothing.”

I couldn’t ignore the deep frown on his face, it was a mixture of concern and disappointment and it went straight to my heart.

“Coach? Mary said you need to speak to me?”

Both of our heads snapped up at the sudden sound of Steph’s voice. She was standing about a foot away from us, her brow furrowed in my direction.

“Steph, yes, I’m just having some trouble understanding the altercation that went down before warm ups with Ms Carpenter and Ms y/l/n. Ms y/l/n is trying to take the whole blame for it and I don’t really believe the whole story that she’s giving me, so if you could please give me some insight it would be much appreciated, as I am taking this very seriously.”

Steph’s eyes went straight to mine, she was my fellow Arsenal team mate, probably the only person on our Matilda’s squad who I could actually call my friend. She was frowning at me deeply, trying to study my facial expression.

“Y/l/n started it, she pulled Ellie up after having a chat with skipper, but from what I heard she was more just annoyed that Ellie had told skipper about some of her more concerning habits. Ellie was mad about being pulled up on it, typical Ellie fashion she took it to heart and she made it personal. I do recall her calling saying something along the lines of if y/n spent less time in their bathroom at nighttime crying about how ‘hard’ her sorry ass life was then she’d realise there were people and things on earth that are more fucking important than you she was, Ellie also made a lot of comments about y/n/n being a selfish person who didn’t give a shit about any of the people around her. Y/n/n might have technically started it but in her defence she didn’t say anything personal or wrong to Ellie, she was just voicing her annoyance about Ellie telling on her to Sam, Ellie was trying to voice her concerns over Y/n/n but it came out wrong and she was trying to make light of a situation that was not hers to talk about in a public space, it was unprofessional and distasteful behaviour from both of them but Ellie was the one who escalated it and made it worse. All y/n really did was tell Ellie to leave her alone and stop pushing, when Ellie did push too far y/n rushed to the bathroom and locked herself in there. Ellie’s behaviour was unacceptable to say the least and I’ve told her, I’m sure Sam will as well once I talk to her about it. I’ve told Ellie she has to apologise to y/n/n and that kind of behaviour won’t be tolerated towards anybody let alone her own teammate.”

Steph’s rundown of the situation was more factual and foolproof then any of the other versions Gustavsson had received and I knew that he was going to believe everything she’d told him.

“Okay, thank you, I really appreciate your transparency on the situation. I made the right call making you interim captain whilst Sam was out. That’s all I should need for now, feel free to go back to what you were doing, I’ll be out there in a minute.”

Once Steph was out of earshot Tony turned to me, clearly a little bit taken aback by all of the information he’d just absorbed.

“You are going to sit out tonight, call it sickness or whatever you please. I want you to stay and watch though, you should be here and you deserve to be here. I’m going to talk to Ellie after training, and just because you don’t seem to want her sitting out I’ll see how remorseful she is and make my roster decision for this weekend based off of that. I know she’s your teammate and you feel like you are taking one for the team by enabling her behaviour towards you and maybe it was a one off, just a heat in the moment thing as you called it. Maybe it wasn’t though, I’m not going to take chances. I want you to think about your own actions as well, think about how you could have dealt with that situation more effectively. Once training’s over you are going to head back to the hotel with the girls and you are going to spend time with them, proper bonding time.”

I nodded at coach, I didn’t have it in me to argue with him.

“Coach, I’m rooming with her.”

It was my main concern, not that Ellie scared me, I’d pretty much ignored her the whole tournament, not that she spent a lot of time in our room anyways, she spent all of her free time until curfew in other teammates rooms.

“Talk to Kerr about it, get her to switch them around, I’m sure it’s not that difficult. Switch rooms, relax for the night, get some sleep, be back here tomorrow. I don’t care whether or not you feel up to training, just be here. This team is your family and whether or not it feels like it they care a lot about you, they are here to support you if you let them. Sometimes you just need to take the leap of faith.”

I nodded at coach. He was a gentle soul, a good one. He reached over to me, offering me a hug and I took it, letting him wrap his arms around my shoulders. It was nice, it didn’t last long but it felt nice. Once he was done giving me a hug he stood up and followed Steph out onto the field.

I found myself gravitating to a spot directly on the sideline, where our team manager was stationed. She didn’t ask any questions as I sat down on the frosty grass beside her station, I was grateful for that much. I hadn’t talked to her much but she seemed lovely and in the very little interactions I had had with her she had gone above and beyond to make me comfortable in whatever we were doing.

I spent my training, sitting on the grass, watching the team as they ran through a few drills and plays before moving into a full scrimmage. I kept my body tucked in, my knees to my chest, my puffer jacket and hoodie wrapped tightly around my legs and torso to pull my knees even further into my chest. It was a blessing that they’d designed waterproof sweatpants, because I would have probably had a cold and wet ass if they hadn’t. Somewhere along the way our team manager offered me a packet of gummy bears and I couldn’t find it in me to decline her offer, so I snacked on the gelatinous pieces of sugar whilst I watched the training slowly come to an end.

They finished with PK’s and then concluded the session. I stayed seated in my little spot, I hoped that no one had spotted me and maybe if I waited for everyone to slip off the field and into the locker rooms I would just be able to hop onto the bus without being detected. My plan pretty much backfired immediately when a certain captain beelined directly towards me, clearly I hadn’t gone unnoticed to her. I grimaced as she got closer to my spot, my spot that my head had deemed as a safe spot from the rest of my teammates.

Sam didn’t even acknowledge me to begin with, instead turning her attention to our team manager, making pretty common conversation with her. She spoke to her for a few minutes, it was afternoon tea talk, just bullshit. Sam’s specialty. Eventually when she finished up she looked down at me, an eyebrow raised. She motioned for me to stand up and follow her, so stupidly, like a puppy, I did. My muscles were cold and I’d be lying if I said that getting up from the ground hadn’t been a little bit harder than I’d predicted. I managed though and caught up to Sam, following after her as she walked back down the tunnel but instead of turning into the locker rooms we kept walking down the corridor until we came to the video review room. It was pretty much just a conference room, one big room with a bunch of tables and chairs that we used to scout and review our own games. Sam closed the blinds to the room, so no bye passers could see in and turned the lights on.

She seated herself at one of the tables, gesturing for me to do the same, so I did. The first thing Sam did was pull out her phone and start typing something or another before looking up at me.

“Steph told me about what happened between you and Ellie.”

I gulped, biting my lip as I tried my hardest to maintain my eye contact with Sam, I wasn’t going to break, not again. I watched as Sam’s finger made its way to her mouth and she bit down on her nail in a questioning kind of way that I couldn’t explain even if I tried.

“I started it, I was pissed off at her for ratting on me to you.”

My honesty would be appreciated, I knew that Sam valued honesty above anything else.

“I don’t really care who started it, I care about togetherness, you know that. This team needs one thing, cohesion. I don’t care who started it, I care about who the problem was and in that situation it was Ellie, she said things that she had no business saying, with the intention of hurting you. That’s enough to tell me that in that situation she was prepared to jeopardise our team just so she could tear down one of our own. I’ve recommended to Tony that she sits out this week. He told me you were apprehensive about it, I wanted to know why.”

There was a simple answer, and a more complex answer, a part of me knew which one Sam wanted.

“Short answer, Ellie is a crucial part of our team, we need her. Long answer, I don’t think she did anything wrong.”

Sam looked up at me, a little bit shocked.

“Look y/n, it’s clear there's been a lot on your mind recently. A lot that you clearly aren’t prepared to share, and that's okay. I saw on the sideline tonight, you looked like you were mentally in a different place, like you were really worried thinking about something and you’ve been like that for a few weeks. I know that you have trust issues, that you are finding it hard to slot into this team because you are scared to be vulnerable. I am here for you, I won’t judge you, I will help you with whatever you need help with, because I can tell there is something and until you do seek out help for it it is only going to destroy you further.”

Sam’s words receded in me, because she was so right that I couldn’t even try to deny it.

“Am I a selfish player and teammate?”

The words felt so raw coming out of my throat, it was something that Ellie had said that had stuck with me.

“No, I can honestly tell you you aren’t. You play football with so much grace and kindness that sometimes it drives me up the wall watching you help up your opponents who have tripped over. You aren’t a selfish person either, you are more reserved, that doesn’t make you selfish, it just makes you self aware, there is a big difference.”

I nodded at Sam, not sure what else there was for me to do. Her words were full of so much wisdom, so much insight. I still couldn’t find it in me to believe them fully though, my self deprecating brain not welcome to accepting any kind of form of praise.

“Look, change is hard. You are young, inexperienced. Staying somewhere that you’ve outgrown though is only going to destroy you. I know this is a big jump, I wouldn’t have reccomended for you to be here though if I didn’t think it was the right fit. You are a world class player, and a genuinely good person. When you smile, it lights up a room. Your laugh is contagious. It’s clear that you’ve never been cared for properly, never let yourself. You have a family now though y/n. You have people that you can go to when you are having a bad day, people that are going to love you no matter what. Use that, take advantage of it. A team doesn’t function without trust.”

There was something about Sams words that told me she actually understood what I was going through, she was dancing on a line of relating to me and giving me advice, the line was a little bit blurred though.

“Do you trust me?”

I let Sam’s words hang in the air for a few seconds, it took me a little while to formulate a reponse.

“I don’t trust anyone, not even myself.”

Sam’s eyes, those brown orbs spoke to me, more than any words ever could to me.

“You don’t think people care for you.”

“Why would people care for me?”

There was so much insecurity behind the words, years of it all built up.

“I care, I’ll always care. Everyone should have somebody to care for them.”

“You have to care, your my captain.”

It was the last bit of defiance leaving my body, the last of my barriers being used.

“Partly, yes. It’s sort of my job. But I save it for the ones who need it and you seem to be in need.”

I rolled my eyes, another defence mechanism that I used to deflect, to avoid my emotions.

“I don’t need help.”

“Maybe not, but when you’re born in a burning house you think the whole world is on fire until someone shows you it isn’t.”

I didn’t fully understand her cryptic but I got the general idea.

“You implying I was born in a burning house?”

Sam’s head tilted, like she wasn’t denying my statement but also didn’t agree with it fully.

“I’m implying that you are here for a reason. That we are all here for different reasons, different driving factors. The difference between you and some of the other girls is that you are letting your past define you, when it doesn’t. The best part of being here is that when you are out on the pitch nobody cares about anything else, nobody could care less about what’s happened in your personal life. Use that, use that to be happy, to find your motivation. Trust me? Let me show you that this team isn’t just a group of girls, it can be your family if you want it to be.”

I looked at Sam flatly trying to figure out how serious she was, when he face didn’t falter I realised how serious she was and that scared me a little bit. I didn’t know if I was ready for that, ready for a family, ready to feel loved and appreciated. It wasn’t soemthing I’d ever really experienced.

“Y’know that it shouldn’t seem remarkable to you that people who love and care for you actually want to treat you well.”

Those words were the straw that broke my back. I couldn’t help but feel the tears well up in my eyes.

“y/n,” Sam’s voice drew my eyes up to her own “You are allowed to cry.”

I shook my head at her, bringing the sleeve of my jumper up to my eyes to rub at the tears escaping my eyes.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you though?”

It was the amount of questioning behind her face that threw me off, I knew she didn’t believe me but the amount of concern laced into her facial expression hit some place in my heart I didn’t know I had.

“You know that it’s okay to not be fine all the time. You are allowed to have feelings, to feel things other than numb. Look, feeling hurts. Life is pain, life is suffering. Being alive hurts, it’s horror and it sucks. But you are alive and it’s spectacular and brilliant because instead of just living you are alive.”

I continued rubbing at my eyes, trying my best to stop any of the tears running down my face.

“I’ll think about it cap, I think it’s about time for me to head back to the hotel.”

Before I could get up and completely leave the room Sam got in her final words.

“There are poeple around that would miss you y/n/n, people who would be gutted if anything ever happened to you. Just think about that.”

[eimids]

Game day shenanigans

Lionesses x reader

Part 3 of the mini series about lionesses

(Let’s just imagine that Leah is playing again)

warnings: Vomiting, blood, angry Lucy

The game had went relatively well till the half time. It was aggressive and the Italians were really throwing some tackles in. It was all good though because you were on the lead. You’d already scored 3 goals while they had only one. It was you, Lessi and McCabe who had scored.

The Italians were especially rough on you. Sliding tackles every time they could. Lucy did not appreciate that at all. You were skilled and got good chances but they were ruined by the opponent. Most of the tackles were on the thin line of legal and illegal. Still usually they were ruled as legal. It pained you to be so much on the ground with the opponents getting away with it.

During half time Lucy suggested that you should be subbed off because they were clearly targeting you. Like you had an X in your back.

“I’m not going to be subbed just because they tackle me. I can handle it Lucia!” You said a little annoyed. Just like she had not trusted your skills.

“I think y/n can handle it for now. If they keep getting more reckless with the tackles, you will be subbed off” Sarina said as the last decision.

You took a sip from your water bottle as you tried to calm yourself. You went to Lauren James to get away from people (Lucy) who annoyed you.

You chatted for a while before your skipper Leah gave you a pep talk before going to the second half. You walked back to the pitch through the tunnel and warmed up a bit. When the whistle was blown you quickly got the ball to you. Running with it as you got closer to the penalty box. When you got inside of it, you were quickly tackled. Someone sliding straight towards your legs which had you tumbling to the ground. Your head got collided with someones boot.

First thing you saw was blood on the hand. The next was Lucy coming running towards you and the two opponents who caused this. She was yelling at them. Next came Leah with the big hand chestures. They had some pushing and pulling before the referee intervened. Giving a yellow card to the woman who tackled you.

“Fuck off” You heard Lucy yell.

Lucy still wasn’t happy about it and kept mouthing the referee and opponents which got her a yellow card. Leah kept talking to the referee, more calmly than the older woman.

You on the other hand had been surrounded by your teammates. They were motioning for a medic to get over to check you out. You felt dizzy and Georgia was hovering over you to shee if you were okay. You didn’t really know what happened, all you knew is that you were bleeding and in pain.

You could walk off the pitch by yourself which led to the crowd to applause for you. When you got to the medical room you could feel something turning in your stomach and quickly your that days food was on the bin next to you. You knew after vomiting that it was a concussion. The medical staff gave you some pain meds and sent a message to Sarina that you wouldn’t be able to continue.

The medical staff started to clean the cut on your forehead and then stitched it up.

“It’s going to leave you a little scar but nothing major. But you do have a pretty bad concussion which means that someone is going to have to look after you for couple of days. We’ll give the person some advice when you know who’s looking after you” The woman said to you after stitching you up and examining you.

After that you were allowed to leave the medical room to the changing room to get some more clothes off so you could watch the rest of the game.

To your surprise, Lucy was sitting in the changing room.

“What are you doing here?” You asked her confused.

“That stupid referee gave me a red card” She said sounding angry. You just started at her angrily.

“Lucia what did you do” You asked sternly.

“Well the woman who tackled you kept laughing about it so I just showed her hoe to tackle properly” She answered casually with a smirk on her face.

“Well I believe if you got carded it wasn’t exactly a legal tackle?”

“I was clean but the referee has something against us” She answered rolling her eyes.

“God your so stupid” you said while sitting next to her.

“I wasn’t going to let them hurting you just slide. I had to do something” She said defensively.

“Yeah but getting a red card isn’t the way. You are like Katie McCard” You joked.

Later on you would see the video of Lucy tackling the girl. It was not clean tackel, you knew it and she knew it. But for that you invited yourself to her house so she (and Kiera) would have to look after you.

—

[coolcattime]

Reborn Obsession [Mianite AU Oneshot]

Relationships: Lady Ianite/Captain Capsize

Characters: Lady Ianite, Captain Capsize, Skipper Redbeard

Under the blanket of night, Lady Ianite lurks awaiting a mortal to quench her thirst. For centuries, the vampire queen has made this town her hunting grounds and tonight is no different. However, as she lures a pair of unwitting souls into her grasp, she finds one bares the face of a love lost long ago.

A love that she will not let escape her again. Whether the woman remembers her or not.

AO3 Link

Mianite Vampire AU Tag

“Why? Why is she—?”

“How many times have I warned you about keeping a human pet? It was only a matter of time before you went too far.”

“No… I didn’t mean— This is your fault!”

“Don’t you blame me. You were the one to sink your fangs into her and drain her dry.”

“You chained her up! Drugged me so I’d—Oh gods, I—! Why!?”

“I did warn you to turn her before our next meeting, didn’t I? If you’d have done that, this little accident wouldn’t have happened.”

“…”

“No more arguments? Good. Next time I’m sure you’ll listen to me when I tell you to do something.”

🩸 🩸 🩸

The cobbled streets were lit only by moonlight and the few lanterns still burning fighting the blanket of darkness that had descended when night had taken hold many hours ago. The perfect hunting grounds for the Lady currently lurking in the deepest shadows of an alley contemplating whether she should await prey coming to her or if she should begin actively hunting.

If any of the townsfolk were to see her at this moment, confusion would set in first rather than fear. Their rational thoughts would leap to the idea that their eyes were playing tricks on them. After all, she was a lady of nobility dressed in all her finery. She should truly have no reason to be loitering in an alley.

Though there would be some who would react in fear. After all, this town had crafted her existence into scary little stories meant to keep children from misbehaving. Tales that so many thought were merely that, but still would cause fear in their hearts if one was to encounter her late at night.

That thought brought a smile to her lips. Most didn’t even recall her name, merely calling her “the Lady”. Yet the fear persisted. As it should. If she so wished, she could unleash horrors on this little town.

They should be grateful that it remained just the occasional disappearances. If she so chose, she could dry this town dry and there would be nothing that anyone would be able to do to stop her. Not even the thorn-in-her side slayer nor the little apprentice she had recently begun training.

So as far as she was concerned, her hunting being such a rarity was a great mercy. Most of the time she tended to stick to merely capturing those trespassing onto her lands. The rest of the time she drank from her plentiful supplies or from animals. Coming into the town like this was just for when she was particularly carving fresh human blood.

Though she imagined whichever mortal happened to be her prey tonight would not take solace in their fate being a rare one. In fact, it seemed to make them far less accepting of meeting it. Though she did always enjoy telling them. The look in their eyes as she explained was always so amusing.

And it seemed that it would not be much longer before she would be able to quench her thirst. She could hear a group approaching. Such loud conversation and intoxicating laughter. So many souls unaware of how close their ends could be.

For the briefest moment, she considered feasting. To just emerge and drink her fill before stealing away the survivors for later. Let the streets run red and the stories become reality once again.

Tonight, though, she had no reason for such an act. As much as it was always tempting, it was simply not worth the attention she would gain. It was not worth the slayers coming to her door.

So instead, she simply focused on the footfalls. One would be behind. One or two always were. That poor soul would be more than enough for her meal tonight.

As always, she was right. Of course she was. These had been her hunting grounds for centuries. Even if the physical landscape changed, the ways mortals acted didn’t.

She could hear it, one walking slower and falling behind the rest of their friends. Now she just needed to completely separate them from their group. That too she was extremely well practised at.

She waited in the shadows for the group to make their way past. They were locked in some odd discussions that she paid no mind to, though she was glad for its presence. Those focused on such stupidity never noticed one of their own going missing until it was already too late.

Still, she waited. Her moment had to be chosen carefully. She closed her eyes, focusing entirely on the footsteps. They all passed slowly, moving further from the alley she was in. She needed only one in earshot.

Then, once she was sure only her target would hear, she let out a cry as if in pain. One step of footfall ceased as a member of the group paused.

She smiled. It was child’s play. However, now was not the time to be revelling. She had to reel her prey in.

She continued to cry. Weak, pathetic, little cries. Those meant to sound like the lost and the scared. The type of cries that she knew from great experience would lure people in. Tonight was not an exception. Footsteps began to approach the alley.

“Hello? Is— Are you okay?” A voice with a thick accent travelled in a careful call. At the edge of the alley, she could see a man.

He would not be able to see her, his eyes were not nearly as good in the darkness as hers, but she could completely take him in.

She’d guess he was a dock worker with how he was dressed, though her knowledge of fashions was outdated. He did look scruffy though. An untucked shirt and unkempt beard. The only part of him that seemed groomed at all was his hair and as far as she could tell that ginger mess that only tied back to keep it out of his vision.

He would not be missed.

“Red?” Or perhaps, for once, she was wrong as a woman’s call came and turned his head. The same accent, clearly one of his friends having already noticed his absence.

The man hesitated. His gaze was pulled towards the one calling him, but he did not move away. Her cries were still reaching him.

Of course, she could just let him leave. Allow him to go on never realising how close he was to the end of his little existence. But she could already smell him. The sweet blood waiting for her beneath the scruff and sea salt. She didn’t feel like letting him escape now.

So, she would just have to lure them both. Drain one here and save the other for later. Whichever had less fear in their eyes… Or perhaps just whichever was prettier.

Yes. What harm was there in having a little fun tonight?

“What are you doing? We almost left you behind,” The woman called again, apparently oblivious to the fact that the two had very much been left behind by their friends.

“I—” The man’s gaze was pulled between herself and the mystery woman. He appeared to have no words for why he had stopped. Perhaps the old stories were floating in his head, of the way that the Lady lured her prey in.

So, she just needed to push said thoughts out of his head.

“Help me…” She imitated the final tone of her last unfortunate prey. The quivering tone that she had heard so many times. The tone that she knew from experience would lure in the kind and dark-hearted alike. “Please… Help me…”

Then a yelp. Weak, but loud enough for him to hear.

His eyes widened. He entered her web.

“There’s something hurt!” The man yelled back to his friend as he entered the alley.

“Shit!”

Feet began rapidly hitting the cobbles. Both sets coming towards her.

The man was approaching quickly, though for the moment he still couldn’t see her from where she was hidden. If she so chose, she could lunge out now and snuff out his precious life before he even knew what was happening.

But she did prefer her preys’ ends to be a little bit more drawn out. They just tasted better when there was a sauce of terror. She wanted the woman to see the first attack.

Still, it would not be long now until the woman entered the alley too. So, the Lady slowly began to rise.

There was an excitement that she could not rid herself of. It had been so long since she had hunted a pair. All the ideas of what she could do with such a golden opportunity were circulating through her head.

Immobilising the man seemed like the obvious first move. It would lure the woman closer and allow her all the time that she desired to figure out her next step. Though, it would likely be immobilising her too.

Then perhaps she would drain one here. As slowly as she could while their friend had to watch, unable to help. Then she’d leave her first victim with just enough life that they’d be able to see her abduct the other before they expired. Dying knowing their friend was in her clutches.

Or maybe she could take both back to her castle. Play some games with them to decide which she would drain first. Have them wake up in her dungeons, allow them an hour or two for reality and the terror to truly set in. Maybe she’d even tell them that she’d let one of them go, to watch them spend their last moments together arguing.

Just imagining the fun that she could have was enough to bring a smile to her face, but it was not the time for it. The woman was entering the alley. Now was the time to strike.

She stepped into view of the man. Briefly, she saw his eyes begin to widen at the sight of her. However, before he could even truly comprehend her presence, she grabbed a hold of his shirt and threw him into the wall.

There was a wet thump.

The man fell in a heap.

“Red!” Came the panicked cry of the woman.

She once again poised herself to strike.

It would be even easier this time. Fear, after all, made mortals act in such questionable ways.

However, when the woman actually came into her sights, the Lady found herself completely frozen. If she still had breath in her lungs, it would’ve been completely expelled at the sight of her.

Though she was dressed similarly to the man, in common clothes covered with the scent of sea salt and hard labour. Though her accent had made her voice different. After all these years, all the centuries of longing, it was her.

Alive and breathing. Her heartbeat rapid and fear spreading through her being did nothing to stop her from being as beautiful as the night that she had been lost.

Before Lady Ianite was her love, reborn again.

Every thought, even plan and hunting instinct, completely left her.

This could not be their reunion. It needed to be perfect. It could not be filled with fear and blood.

She could not be seen here by her.

She would prepare and come back for her. Nothing would keep them apart again. Anyone who tried would suffer. But for now, she needed to get herself ready.

She turned to mist and rushed away, her love knowing nothing of her presence but the man’s injuries and the unexplainable force that rushed past her.

🩸 🩸 🩸

A number of nights later, Capsize stood on her balcony trying to ignore her unease as she could swear that she saw a figure moving in the darkness just out of her view. Normally coming out here was a comfort. The night air helped put her at ease, particularly on nights where she struggled to sleep. But since Red had been attacked, she found it hard to shift the fear that someone was watching her from the shadows.

She knew that such a thought was stupid. Nothing more than paranoia from the fact her brother had been attacked out of nowhere, seemingly by a person that could vanish into thin air. Yet, the way her friends were acting, it was as if nothing worth worrying about had happened at all.

Maybe it was unfair to say her friends as a collective. Sonja had been coming by every day to make sure the two of them were okay, but the way the rest had been acting had left a bitterness in her that had soaked her to the bone.

It was ridiculous. Whoever had attacked him was still out there, but those closest to her were acting as if he’d just run into a wall of his own accord. Like she was just making up the attack to cover for him. As if she made something like this up.

Though, at least their laughter was better than the people she had to hear blaming the same local tall tales that they blamed on everything.

It was beyond frustrating the amount of old sods that were telling her that she and Red should be counting their lucky stars that they’d escaped an encounter with the Lady. Because apparently, they’d been attacked by a vampire. The way they laughed about it left her barely able to resist punching them as they used it as an excuse to not look into the attack at all.

‘I’m not becoming prey to that woman.’ One had said to her face. Apparently, they were fine with letting Red’s attacker walk free as long as they could pretend it had been a supernatural creature of the night.

Yet despite her annoyance at her explanation, she had still been unable to shift the feeling of someone watching her since that night. Only ever at night. But it had been ever present since the attack.

Maybe the local tales stuck in her mind more than she wished to believe.

Even now, standing here on her balcony, she could swear that someone was watching her. The more she looked, the more she swore that out in the darkness was a figure.

That a bright pair of purple eyes were fixated on her.

She gripped onto the railing, almost leaning over to just get the tiniest bit closer. To be able to tell that her eyes were just playing tricks on her.

“Capsize!”

She whipped around in panic as Red yelled from downstairs. As she did, she must have shifted her hand onto a rough part of the wood as her finger caught with a sharp pain.

“Ah!” She gasped, looking down to see that she’d cut her fingertip open. Blood began to drop onto the wood. “Shit…”

What on earth was wrong with her? She had no reason to be this jumpy over shadows and children’s stories.

She squeezed her finger, wrinkling her nose at the sting but thankfully not spotting a splinter. With a sigh, she headed inside. Hopefully Red wouldn’t make fun of her for the act of clumsiness.

What she did not see as she left her balcony was the figure she had been trying to convince herself was nought more than a figment of her own imagination, turning to a dark mist that floated its way up to where she had just been.

As quickly as she had deformed, Lady Ianite reformed into herself, smiling.

“Capsize… What a lovely name for you.”

She ran her finger over the freshly spilt blood. Every urge in her body told her to taste the precious liquid, but she knew that was not the best use of it. Besides, there was plenty more that she would be able to drink once the time was right.

Instead, she pulled the tiniest crystal vial from a hidden pocket. Pressing her fingertip to its top, she willed the drop to fall from her skin to the container, quickly sealing it once it landed and stained the inside crimson.

“With this, my love, we shall be together once more,” She said in elation as she held the vial close to her silent heart.

There was still so much to do, so many lengthy processes ahead of her to make sure everything was ready for their reunion, but blood magic was a talent of hers. Even with just this single drop, she knew what her talents could do.

When the time came, her love would walk right up to her without a second thought. No matter who or what tried to stop her, all her love would be able to perceive would be her.

Though with only a drop, it would take time to enthral her to such a level and the enchantment would burn out the moment they touched. But Ianite was patient enough to wait, it had already been centuries, what was one more year?

As for it burning out. Well, once they were touching, it would already be too late for anyone to stop her from taking her love home.

Of course, she’d keep a watchful eye on her in case of other opportunities, but she knew she had already won.

“I won’t fail you this time, my love. This time, I’ll do what’s needed and we’ll be together for all eternity.”

[st-darla]

You gripped your arm, blood spilling in little rivers out of the bite. You took in a deep breath, exhaling slowly, your gills flaring briefly from the sheer amount of stress you were under.

Skipper blinked drowsily at you, your blood staining his teeth red. You almost couldn’t recognize the lazy shark in the state he was in now, looking far too thin, far too weak from his time at Living Deep Aquarium. But you had gotten him out with minimal injuries, shark bite aside.

“hey, kid, y’good?” Red called in to the back of the van from the drivers seat.

“Got bit,” you slurred out, then frowned, “I’m starving though.”

Hunger pangs bit at your stomach harshly. Unusually harsh, given that you had eaten just an hour before.

“I think they put something in the water to keep them hungry.”

You could hear Red growl, even as your mind fuzzed away.

“And feral.”

Tags: @rainachaeri / @lizzie-tempest

[dailybutterfly]

Butterfly #24: Blood-red Skipper (Haemactis sanguinalis)

Image credits: 1, 2, 3

Information on this butterfly is scarce.

[helluva-world-innit]

So...they are finally here...the height charts! At least of the main Hazbin Crew (bonus Mimzy; idk about Baxter yet). These are the final designs for me but, as I improve my art skills, I may change some things around I couldn't accomplish when I first started drawing them.

I will do actual character ref pages at some point now that I have their designs (mostly) finalized. I still wanna tweak them a little, ngl, but that will have to wait until I draw them a few more times (and probs after I do the height charts for the Helluva Crew too; everyone else will be sporadic af).

Anyway, since I got a flight soon and can't sleep, let's talk about some of the changes I made for everyone as well as how they got to be where they are now, hm? Sidenote: I have decided the events of this story will take place in 2052 for...reasons. Sidenote sidenote: I went with the original Sin colors for the Rings so Wrath is red, not Pride. Greed is gold, etc., etc.

So, Charlie (Charlotte Lucinda Isadoros) Morningstar has more texture in her hair this time around and I made the stitches on her coat obvious just because I thought it looked more slapdash that way. She's slim to the point of not really having much of a figure (much like her father; they are almost copies of each other but it's because he really didn't use anyone else's "genes" for her) so she gave her coat a little bit of shape to the hips but she still largely wears more masculine clothing. Like most of her extended family, Charlie isn't too hung up on being perceived as strictly male or strictly female, though her title is Crown Princess of Hell (Luci just thinks it sounds cuter, but Charlie doesn't object to people naming her as Crown Prince of Hell either). Age: 222

I already kind of did a rundown for her deal earlier on this blog so lets move on to...

Vanessa Chavez Hernandez Fell into the vicious Ring of Wrath upon her death during the Salvadoran Civil War in 1986. Fun fact: She and Alastor are some of the only Sinners that go by their given names. Everyone else's name tends to be a chosen one. Vannie died fighting on the side of the Farbundo Martí National Liberation Front (FMLN). She was caught and killed with so much (understandable) rage inside that it led to her dropping into Wrath Ring. US soldiers killed her peasant farmer parents in cold blood in front of her when she was 14 for the belief they were aiding the Front with weapons. Her father actually was, but her mother was not aware of any of it. As a result, Vannie dedicated her life to killing as many soldiers and government officials as possible instead of leaving for the States with her older sister. She was killed by beheading at the tender age of 20.

Vannie has been devastating her fellow Sinners in combat ever since. All to avoid being taken for torture practice by the bloodthirsty Ringmaster, Satan, should she lose a fight. Most of the armor pieces she wears are handed down from other fallen warriors, bequeathed to her or surrendered upon her victory. I originally wanted to base her on a Death's-Head Hawkmoth but decided to go with a Banded Skipper moth instead (we don't gotta be that edgy here now). They tend to have quick, skip-like movements and Vannie is very agile to make up for her small stature.

Vannie is very level-headed usually, but when her eyepatch comes off, Blind Rage takes hold and she will not lose focus on a target until they stop moving or perish. She was captured and sold as fodder for the arena, à la Thor in Thor: Ragnarok, and, she quickly grew into a crowd (and Satan) favorite. Joins up with Charlie after being liberated for the rehab project. The fact that Charlie's really cute and has a pout that can put puppies to shame probs had a hand in that decision.

Cherry Bomb! The gal, the legend, the agent of unrestrained chaos. A Brisbane native, Cherry fell to Gluttony in 1987 when punk was dying down, but "be gay, do crimes" was still more than an empty slogan. She got blown up while attempting to steal some food from a grocery store, and, like the cockroach she is, she got back on her two four feet in Hell and stole directly from Beezlebub's gardens instead.

I decided to make her look more diy punk and gave her a mullet. Why? Bitches love mullets is why. And Cherry is very much a lover of the bitches. Based her on a Giant Burrowing Cockroach too, which burrows, as its name suggests. This makes Cherry hella good at tunnels and underground infiltration but she also has a knowledge of how to build explosives as well from her time hanging with her more reckless, anarchist buds back on Earth. Her father (he's become an informant and dealer in Hell), regularly threatens her and Angel to get her to build and develop new ways to take out his competition in Greed (including even Moxxie's father). She was just about 28 when she died.

Since we're going in Ring order here, Sir Pentious is next. This cordial king cobra slithered down to Greed Ring in 1888 (aged 30) after his ambition cost him everything: his inheritance, his family, and ultimately, his life. At age 15, Sir Pen had had enough of just reading about machinery and decided to begin building some of his own. Upon entering a late puberty, this became harder for him to pursue with the pressures of high society barreling at him at full speed (he's trans). Sir Pen often disguised himself with the help of his younger sister and brother and attended engineering presentations and operation theaters despite his gender assignment at birth keeping him from formal training in engineering. The open disdain his parents showed for his inventive spirit and lack of feminine graces led to him becoming more withdrawn and abrasive to would be suitors. By age 22, no man in the county wanted anything to do with the seventh-born, obsessive, outwardly sexless child of the Lord and Lady Edwards of Dacorum, England.

Dejected by the steadily increasing hostility towards him from his family and fellow aristocrats, Sir Pen's own resentment grew and he retreated to the family summer home to begin developing an easier and painless method for removing "damaged" body parts (because of his own untreated body dysphoria) on the battlefield. Unfortunately, he used members of his own household staff to test it on. He was labelled as insane and was due to be moved to a private asylum owned by a distant cousin, but opted to take his own life instead of staying trapped in a cage of society's making anymore. Sir Pen now spends his days in Hell building various contraptions to help him one day compete in the Circus Games. He aims to win the title and position of Overseer to reclaim some of his old glory. Left him a snake because honestly, lookit him. Baby noodle. Also snakes tend to symbolize betrayal and untrustworthiness in Christian folklore so it fits him well enough.

Nifty is based on a skunk cleaner shrimp (look them up, they're super cute and also known as 'Doctor shrimps' >///<) and fell into Envy for similar reasons to SP. Three shitty husbands led Nifty to have a psychological break. She ended up killing them then turning the gun on herself in her grief after witnessing her final husband's infidelity in 1954 at age 33. I made her a cleaner shrimp since she is the maid/cook of the hotel, more or less, but also tends to clean up any of the messes she, Alastor, and Husk make (they eat people together! Isn't that...sweet?) Gave a bigger version of her to see since I made her so leetle.

Growing up poor in 1920's-30's Korea as the daughter of a Japanese soldier and a Korean sex worker with three younger siblings and lots of local children to look after, Nifty developed an early sense of caretaking and the desire for comfort in the ways of a well-kept home and delicious food (when it could be afforded). She married relatively young (17) to better care for her mother as her health declined until her death in 1946.

With trauma from a lifetime of war, poverty, and spousal abuse/neglect, it really is a surprise that she's remained as sweet as she has. At least on the surface. She worked in several restaurants and estates in the Envy's Ring of Influence upon Falling, but never managed to be appreciated no matter how efficient or hospitable she was. In the end, Nifty was approached by and made a deal with Alastor and has happily served him since.

Husk(er), in comparison to his contracted colleague, Nifty, is big, gruff, and a total softie inside despite looking like something out of a Bram Stoker novel. Husk died at the ripe age of 72 (1979) which is no small feat considering the amount of wars and bloody revolutions his home country (Russia) dealt with during his lifetime. A second born son of a Petrograd (St. Petersburg today) baker, Husk lost his older brother in the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917 (Husk was 10 years old) and has had a difficult relationship with conflict and faith ever since. Between marrying a woman he didn't love, being an awkward and distant father to their only daughter, and deserting during WWII, Husk has more passive demons than most.

After returning home in 1958 from hiding out in South Korea, he spends the remainder of his life gambling and drinking to forget all he's lost and given up. He died after passing out in the snow and Fell to Sloth Ring where he quickly amassed enough power from siphoning the soul energy of others (through their blood) to compete in the Circus Games. He even won it, but immediately regretted this as Belphagor proved to be too demanding of a Ringmaster for the bat to submit to. Scared, full of remorse, and aching for some comfort in the coldest Ring in Hell (he ran to Pride to escape Bel), he was approached by and made a deal with Alastor and has faithfully served him ever since. I made him a vampire bat because it just seems to fit a lot better than a cat with wings (OG Husk's ears always made me think of a bat anyhoo) and it's a sort of nod to his feeling like a drain on others. He's wearing a security hat because he is the security bat. More on that when we get to it.

Angel Dust is Hell's highest grossing pornstar. Such fame comes at a terrible price, however. Angel died at the age of 32 in 1947 (yes, i aged him down a little) after a jealous lover from a rival mob family gunned him down. Before that, Angel used his body to get information and fuel his drug habits, routinely practicing drag and giving the anti-sodomy laws a workout during his life, much to his family's embarrassment. He really wasn't too upset or surprised upon finding himself in the Lust Ring of Hell even if he wasn't too happy about the form he took (Angel is terrified of spiders). After a couple decades of banging and binging, Angel's family slowly began making their way to Hell as well and reunited to form one of the most powerful Sinner gangs around. He tried rejoining them too, only to be brutally beaten and ejected by his father. Back out on the streets, but no longer interested in just getting by anymore, Angel became the perfect target for a predatory Overseer of Lust: Valentino.

For the last 75 years, Angel has been featured in countless porn media (even audiobooks!) and loaned out to every demon Valentino aims to have connections with. If he hadn't met Cherry and formed a strong friendship with her shortly after her Fall, the spider's soul most likely would have Broken long before Charlie got a hold of him. While Angel actually likes his job and enjoys having something he excels at, being bound to an Overseer is a one-way ticket to being ground down into pure soul energy for Hell's use. I kept him a spider because I genuinely have no issues with him being a spider, but the fact that his original design doesn't look like one gives me the fucking pip. Also, he gets even more spidery later. Also, also, I gave him two gold fangs because they're actually just his fangs coated in gold under Valentino's orders. Anything to make him less dangerous since Angel does have venom sacs. the poison can't kill anyone already dead, obviously, but it is extremely painful and lasts for hours. He can also inject a solution that temporarily paralyzes others instead of causing them agony.

Finally, there's Alastor, the only Overseer of Pride Ring. Bound to the King of Hell, Lucifer himself, Al enjoys the kind of power most Overseers can only dream of. I made him a rabbit (actually a Snowshoe Hare) mostly to get away from a culturally appropriated beast (you know what one, I ain't finna name it) and to actually make him even more aggressively cuddleable. I like characters that defy expectations. Also, I grew up with Bugs Bunny like many of you and I love the idea of Al having Looney Toons-ass ways to deal with problems. Like hole magic. Go ahead and laugh, it's funny.

Al died in 1938 after being sentenced to the death penalty (electric chair). He was caught in one of his many, many murders after one sloppy mistake at 39 years old. He was a modestly famous radio host in his hometown of New Orleans, but only after moving away from the city with his mother and stepfather to Chicago from ages 6 to 17. His mother died when Al was 8 and his stepfather's abuse led to him becoming a skilled and emancipated serial killer by 16 years old. He saved whatever he could from victims to feed himself and put himself through speech classes when he learned that a decent living could be made on the radio for someone so obviously of mixed blood. Alastor moved back to New Orleans to start over and took advantage of the more seedy sides of the city to cover up his hunts until his discovery and capture.

Al Fell to Pride and began exploring and hunting in the other Rings, meeting a fellow entertainer in Gluttony (Vox; died 1955). The pair of them hunted together for close to 25 years when an unknown rift formed between them and both competed to win the title of Overseer in the same year. There can only ever be one Overseer per Circus (Lucifer burns the losers to ash with holy fire to keep them from returning), but Alastor and Vox are the first and last dual winners in the 200+ history of the competition. Vox pledged himself to Beezlebub while Alastor pledged himself to Lucifer and the pair have been bitter rivals ever since.

Bonus: Mimzy is an Overseer of Lust Ring that knows all the hot goss and isn't afraid to share it. She died in the 1920s after being thrown from her then-boyfriend's car in the Bronx and getting run over by a trolley. Your girl has seen it all and then some. Now, she runs one of the slickest clubs and makes her soul quota for Asmodeus with young performers of all kinds. She and Alastor became fast friends upon meeting and she's one of the only people aside from Valentino and Velvette to know what his history with Vox is. She's got a giggle in her talk and a wiggle in her walk and I so based her on that mink girl from Animaniacs as well as a little bit of Toot from Drawn Together (who was loosely based on Betty Boop). I just want her to be soft and sultry. *Jon Lovitz voice* Is that so wrong?

Woo, this got fucking loooooooong. Hopefully, I covered just enough to get y'all interested in what else I have planned for these knuckleheads and I'll be back with the Helluva Main Cast for you next time. Bye!

[saika077]

The Dorm Leaders as Jojo fans

AN: this is just some silly goofy hc that caters to me specifically.

Riddle Rosehearts

Phantom Blood enjoyer

Started as a manga reader and is rightfully horrified at Dio's actions (if you know you know).

Giorno is his favorite Jojo.

Joseph's wittiness and Caesar's hotheaded personality reminds him a lot of Ace and Deuce.

Was devastated at S1 Ep 19 where they have that breakup arc and in the next episode where...yeah...

Trey can hear his cry of anguish from down the hall.

He does not tolerate part skipper in a "How can you just skip the basic fundamentals of the story?? Blah blah blah" type a way.

Jonathan defender. Doesn't take kindly to people who call Jonathan boring or "Phantom Blood mid".

I'd say that his favorite OP is probably Traitor's Requiem

Doesn't really have time to get caught up so he recently just finished Golden Wind.

Leona Kingscholar

A basic Stardust Crusaders fan

I'm sorry, but he looks like he'd be a part skipper 😭 (I'm still gonna give him the benefit of the doubt)

He's not gonna skip Stone Ocean tho, that's for sure.

Jotaro and Jolyne are his favorite Jojos

I feel like he'd be a Jolyne kinnie due to the fact that they both have parental issues

Doesn't take kindly to people who slander Jolyne

If he doesn't skip parts, I'd say that Kars is his favorite Jojo villain.

Doesn't admit it but he was pretty devastated at the "My name is Emporio" scene and cried silently.

I can see him having Sono Chi no Kioku as his favorite OP or maybe he's a rare Chase enjoyer (Chase is actually a great OP, people are just mean :(( )

Is currently halfway through Steel Ball Run

Y'know he actually shares the same VA as Weather Report in the anime.

Azul Ashengrotto

Heard about it from Idia in the Board Game club when he was making a funny quip about having the upper hand but he didn't get the joke and Idia's like "uh, it's a Jojo reference, dude" and everyone else in the club got the reference.

Rare Jojolion enjoyer

Jodio is actually his favorite Jojo

His favorite character is Kishibe Rohan (no, I will not elaborate).

His favorite villain is Yoshikage Kira

I can see him being a Fighting Gold enjoyer

Jojo poses in private and the twins caught him doing it one day.

Kalim Al-Asim

Makes Jamil sit down and watch with him.

His favorite part is either Battle Tendency or Diamond is Unbreakable

Josuke is his favorite Jojo

Likes Joseph too, but he cheated on Suzie Q so that takes away some of the points. But at the same time Joseph cheating gives us Josuke, and he really likes Josuke so...yeah

Cried like a bitch during S1 Ep 20 (same)

I don't see him actually liking any of the villains but if he had to pick a favorite I'd say he'd pick Diavolo

When the ED of Golden Wind came on, Jamil covered Kalim's ears so fast. Toniiiiight~ I need your boooody~

Likes Great Days

Bonus: Jamil is a Golden Wind fan, his favorite character is Pannacotta Fugo and he actually reads Purple Haze Feedback (and cried).

Vil Shoenheit

Stone Ocean enjoyer, both the part and the OP

He also really likes the aesthetics of Golden Wind

Jolyne defender #2

Doesn't trust people who don't like Jolyne and sees it as an immediate red flag (same).

Pucci is his favorite villain.

I'd say his favorite character is Lisa Lisa. I feel like he's either aspiring to be like her or "god she is so me fr"

Trish kinnie (idk, to me specifically he kinda reminds me of her)

He reads the manga but hasn't had the time to get caught up.

He needs to know why or how Araki never ages in any of the pictures of him.

Idia Shroud

Manga reader and is caught up to the recent chapters

His favorite part is Steel Ball Run

Johnny kinnie

Doesn't tolerate part skipper but in an elitist gatekeepy type of way

Sings Sono Chi no Sadame on top of his lungs in his room.

Would never admit it but he had the cringy "Ora Ora Muda Muda Kono Dio da!" Phase (it's a Canon event almost every Jojo fan has to go through).

The kind of Jojo fan I do not want to interact with. Ever. (Mf is canonically insufferable to talk to irl)

Idk he just gives me the annoying SBR fan vibes.

He actually shares the same VA as Baoh in Jojo ASBR

Malleus Draconia

Phantom Blood Enthusiast

Finishes Phantom Blood and was like that clip of Clone High Gandhi where he's just like "wow...I- I need a minute to think about this..." And doesn't touch the series for a while. I don't think he knows that there are more parts.

I feel like the only Jojo media he watched is the old Phantom Blood OVA that is now considered a lost media.

Lilia finds him sulking in his room and when he asks him what's wrong, he just replies "Jonathan and Erina deserves happiness" and doesn't say any more than that.

Number one JonaEri shipper. If JonaEri has a million fans, he is one of them. If JonaEri has one fan, he is the one. If JonaEri has zero fans, he's already dead.

Enjoys Dio as a villain.

Loves the old OVAs

Feel free to add more or if you'd like to disagree, I'm open for discussion.

[worldsandemanations]

Lipstick Skipper aka Blood Red Skipper photograph by Bill Berthet

[janamelie]

Fanwork creators self rec! When you get this, reply with your five favorite fics/art/podfics/etc. that you've made, then pass on to others. Stan for yourself!

In no particular order:

This is my most recent fic and it seems to be pretty popular which is gratifying as it was a breeze to write. Rimmer using the quantum skipper and inadvertently barging in on various versions of Lister and himself in intimate situations is such a gift of a scenario that I'm surprised I was the first to think of it.

This is a remix of @feline-ranger's lovely "fruit porn" fic "Feeling Fruity". I decided to set it in the episode "Lemons" because how could I resist? Rated M but it's basically comedy fluff with our Dave era Boyz.

In contrast, probably my darkest fic is "Addiction" which is set entirely in the "Back To Reality" universe. Sometimes I like to explore how utterly smegged up that universe would be if it was actually real.

By contrast, here's another AU fic, this time set in the Captain Lister universe of "Skipper". I wanted to see way more of that than we did so wrote it myself and added T-rated Lister / Rimmer romance (I do explain their marriages but you have to read the fic for that).

And finally, my collaboration with the lovely @lord-valery-mimes, our epic vampire soap opera "Blood Of The Smegged". What if Lister was the Jonathan Harker character from "Dracula" and went to Transylvania to meet the mysterious Count Rimmer? Comedy and romance ensue.

I enjoyed writing this one so much that I'll shortly start posting a solo sequel (with LVM's blessing; she's too busy to write atm).

I won't tag anyone to do this, but feel free if you want to. :D

[herpsandbirds]

Lipstick Skipper aka Blood Red Skipper (Haemactis sanguinalis), family Hesperiidae, Tena, Ecuador

photograph by Chan Wah Choy

[heystovepipeboys]

this might be cheating but would you tell me more about both the Howl and "Sledge was asleep under water" WIPS 🥺?

thank you for the ask! not cheating, I'm happy to talk more about any of my WIPs haha. Howl is still pretty unformed, and I need to rewatch the movie, but I've been thinking Ron is a little more aggressively involved in the war versus trying to hide from it. I also feel like he leans into the fierce heart-eating wizard persona a bit more than Howl.

“Carwood, what did you do?” Carwood faltered, took a half-step backwards. He had never heard that tone in Speirs's voice before: cold and angry. “Where's my stuff?”  “I just tidied everything up. It's all still there–” “Wrong, wrong, I told you not to touch my stuff!” The castle creaked and shook, drawing in with a shudder as Speirs turned blazing eyes on Carwood. “How am I supposed to do magic like this?” 

Sledge was asleep under water is a powers au sledgefu thing based on some old rp threads with my wife. Gene is a healer and Snaf has the power to temporarily reanimate the dead, and Gene has just drowned......

The rain trickled down under his collar, cold and unpleasant. He scrambled forward before he’d even properly processed what he was seeing, dragging Sledge up and out of the hole. His red hair was plastered limp and dark over his face. Snafu shook him viciously, then patted him down, feeling for a pulse or a breath. Movement. Something. Anything other than just cold wet dead weight.

There was nothing there.

Snafu was so unused to death without blood that it almost seemed like it must just be some fucked-up dream, mingling his memories of Gloucester with the month they’d spent on Okinawa. Except now he had his hands on Gene’s skin, he could feel it. Death always felt the same. It was like a black hole, a patch of static where a person used to be. Where his buddy used to be. 

He couldn’t stand the blue sallowness around Gene’s mouth, the way he wasn’t moving, the mud smeared across his cheek where he’d been pressed into the bottom of the fucking swamp his foxhole turned itself into while he’d been asleep. 

Snafu hadn’t brought anyone back since they’d tried to save the skipper. Since they’d failed. He should call for a corpsman, probably. Except he could help him. He could help Sledge faster and better than any corpsman he'd ever met. And he couldn’t just let Gene be dead, not for a second longer than he had to be. 

Not thinking twice, Snafu slapped his shaking, filthy hands down flat on Gene’s too-cold chest and shoved his power through his body. 

You can ask me about my WIPs here!

[thiswasinevitableid]

Ornamental (Indruck)

The winner of the location-based mermay prompts was: A mer weaving among submerged branches in the dark, murky water of a swamp. Big thank you to @bellafarallones2 for playing in this space on discord

The roots twine like gordian knots as Duck slips between and beneath them. It’s been a high rain year, and the rivers and inlets to the sea are high, so high that branches loom in the murk. 

He’s excited; the drowning trees mean new specimens for his botany collection, and maybe even some nice kinds of wood for carving ships once he dries them out.

A distant, unmistakable hum of a motor and he turns his attention to some nearby manatees. In the murky water, there is a good chance the skipper won’t see them until his motor slices their backs. Shooing them into a smaller cove where the roots make it impossible for a boat to travel, he pauses to rub one of the calves on her grey head before swimming back to the main waterway through the swamp. 

The net nearly catches him on the first throw into the water, and he realizes he should have hidden with the manatees. 

Duck makes a hard left away from the shadow of the hull, the motor chopping the water as it speeds after him. His best chance is to make the mouth of the river and head into the sea; they won’t be able to corner him there and he can dive deep and wait them out. 

In any other instance, if he knew a human was out here trying to catch mers in a small boat, he’d capsize the damn thing so they’d think twice before pulling the same shit again. But they know he’s here. Swimming any closer to that boat is as good as throwing himself in cuffs. 

He rounds a curve in the river, the second to last before he hits the sea. 

Instead, his head hits a submerged branch that wasn’t there two days ago. He’s tough, but at speed the hit is hard, stunning him long enough for a net to drop onto him and haul him into the air. 

He thrashes, knocking one human into the water the instant they drop him onto the deck. Two more converge on him and his tail swipes their feet from under them as he rips the net in half. He grabs the edge of the boat to vault to safety and pain shoots through the base of his tail. Just as he lunges for the blonde human that’s spear gunned his tail to the planks, the end of a rifle hits his forehead and the world drops away. 

When he comes to, it’s with an aching head and human hands touching his tail. He sinks his teeth into flesh and the human pulls back with a yelp. 

“I was trying to help you!” Blood drips down his wrist as he clutches the bite, and silver hair falls into his face when he tilts his narrow chin at the half-wrapped bandage on Duck’s tail. 

“Touch me again and I'll take a finger off!” He snaps at the assembled flock of well-dressed humans, “that goes for the rest of you, too. Keep the fuck away from me.” He pushes back into deeper water and sinks down to finish bandaging his tail in peace. 

When he pokes his head back up, the crowd is moving towards a large house. The house in whose backyard pond he’s now stuck. He’d heard some humans kidnap mers to keep like glorified garden ornaments. He just never thought he’d be unlucky enough to run into them.

The human who speared him is talking to the one who bandaged him, and side by side he can see they must be brothers. 

“Now do you see father’s point? They’re aggressive beasts who would keep us in ponds if they could.”

The silver-haired one looks over his shoulder, expression pained but not unkind, “And I doubt we’d respond any better to it than he did.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Indrid stays clear of the pond for two days. He lets his father, brother, and their remaining guests assume it’s because of the still-red bitemark on the side of his hand. In truth, it has far more to do with images of netting digging into tan skin and blood seeping across the bottom of the boat. They, and the fact, he could not prevent them, makes him ill. 

Today, the sun is too warm to resist and he wanders down the stone path to the pond. The water feature is more like a beautiful, natural pool, with salinated water, jewel studded rocks, and bright blooming aquatic plants. But it’s a pond nonetheless, a place where they’ve dumped a merman as if he were a Koi.

The merman floats on his back, staring at the sky, and doesn’t even look Indrid’s way before saying, flatly, “fuck off.”

“I will. I just wanted to say I am sorry. None of this was my idea. But I am sorry all the same.”

The merman rests his hands on his stomach, “You wanna prove you’re actually sorry? Tell 'em to give me a decent meal. Something swimming would be nice, or just something fresh. Fish don’t come in fuckin’ sticks where I’m from.”

One bike ride–he doesn’t want to alert his family to his plan by using one of the cars–and stressful hunt through the grocery store later, he returns with a plastic bag in one hand and a pail in the other. 

“Ahem.” He waits until the merman looks his way to hold up his haul, “the only live thing in the store was a lobster. So I got you one of those and some sushi. I don’t know if merpeople have that but it’s basically just raw fish.”

He sits on one of the larger rocks, far enough back that the mer will have a harder time reaching him to bite his fingers off or drag him into the water. Not that he’d blame him for the urge, but blood loss and/or drowning are not his preferred means of dying.

After arranging the two trays of sashimi closer to the water, he opens the pail and tips the lobster into the water. The merman ignores it in favor of the sushi, picking up and examining several pieces before popping one into his mouth. 

He groans happily, “Damn that’s good. Now: fuck off.” He takes the two trays and swims backwards to a stone near the center of the pond, setting them on the gray rock and turning his back to Indrid. Satisfied that he’s shown he does care about the merman’s well-being, Indrid leaves him to eat dinner in peace. 

When he comes back the next morning, he’s puzzled to hear the merman talking with someone. 

“...dunno Carl, what do you think?”

Indrid approaches one of the benches near the pond and finds him resting his arms on the edge of a stone, on which is perched the still-living lobster. Having absolutely no idea of the social rules of this situation, he settles on the bench, sets his lunch-bag beside him, and focuses on his sketchbook. 

After several minutes of silence, the merman says, much louder than before “I don’t get it Carl. Humans think they’re hot stuff and they can’t even breathe under water. Maybe that’s why they’re so fuckin rude all the time; they know mers got one up on ‘em.”

Indrid decides it’s best to ignore him, and succeeds in doing so for five minutes before the merman says, “even the ones that think they’re good don’t do much.”

He turns to a squirrel lurking near the bench, “well, THIS human told them to bring the merman actual fish instead of those horrible protein cakes. And I was GOING to share my lunch with him.” The mer whirls toward him, “I got a name, y’know!”

Indrid cocks his head, “Which is?”

“Duck. It’s a nickname.” “I like it.”

The mer crosses his arms, “good, means you won't call me fuckin "sparkles" or somethin’. Heard some humans rename captured mers, which is fuckin’ bullshit.” Indrid shakes his head, “I won't let them. If it comes down to it, I'll tell them I hate the name Duck, which means they'll keep it out of spite.”

“Yeesh, that’s fuckin grim.” 

Indrid snickers at the succinct summary of his family dynamics, “I am aware. My request to patch up your tail was met with a solid day of ridicule. Speaking of which, is it healing alright?”

“Yep, good as new” The mer lifts his tailfin, revealing a fresh, but clearly healing, scar. More troubling is the color of the surrounding scales; when he was pulled into the boat, they shimmered in silver and earth tones. Now they’re dull as old dimes.

“Did your tail change color because you’re upset? Or sick?”

“Why? You wanna make sure your pet looks good for visitors?” 

“You are not my pet! You’re not anyone’s pet and you should not even be here but until I can convince father of that, which may take until my death or his, whichever comes first, will you please tell me how to make you less miserable?”

Seaweed green eyes study him. Then the mer mumbles, “I need a bumpy rock. Not a sharp one, a bumpy one so I don’t fuckin cut myself.”

Indrid turns his attention to the landscaping, crawling from one patch of stones to another and holding promising ones up for Duck to examine. The mer swims alongside him, eventually pointing out ones that he thinks could work. Carl does nothing helpful whatsoever. 

At last, Indrid finds a lava rock that’s just smooth enough and passes it to Duck. The mer murmurs, “thanks” and returns to the rock at the center of the pool. 

Indrid returns to the bench and removes the fruit salad and seaweed snacks he packed. He’s halfway done with the salad when Duck surfaces at the edge of the pool. The thought of him moving his bulk so silently into and through the water sends new, welcome shivers up Indrid’s arms.

“I got a favor to ask. There’s a patch I can’t reach because I’m still stiff from gettin’ hauled up. Would you be willin’ to get it for me?”

“Of course.” Indrid brings the seaweed snacks with him as Duck pulls himself onto the  pavement and rolls onto his belly. Indrid takes the rock and sets the container by Duck’s head. The mer takes a snack, frowning when it sticks to his damp fingers but biting it anyway. 

“This spot here?” Indrid rests the stone on a still-dull patch of color. 

“Uh huh. Just go in circles, don’t gotta worry about bein’ gentle, I can handle-ohhhhhfuck.” He tenses from fingertips to tail with a groan, “yeah, that’s the spot alright. Damn that’s nice.”

Indrid smiles and sets about his work, buffing the scales back to life as Duck sighs. He’s glad that the mer has accepted his olive branch. As he works, Duck muses on how humans figured out they could dry something so slippery, which eventually leads to a conversation on certain seaside markets in Japan where, according to what Duck’s heard, vendors on the shoreline have counters facing both the street and the water. 

Maybe Indrid could arrange and escape for them there. All he’d have to do was work out how to keep a mer alive on a trans-pacific flight. Which is still easier than convincing his father to let Duck go. 

He runs a hand over the now-shining tail and Duck sighs happily, resting his hands under his cheek. The movement allows Indrid to watch the muscles in his back, made strong by a life of swimming. 

Duck probably gives amazing hugs. 

Indrid sets the rock down and notices the cuffs of his pants are soaked from the ambient water. 

“Drat, I got wet.”

“Delicate human can't handle a little water?” Duck rolls onto his back, smile friendly and charmingly crooked. “It does not bother me, I just have to be careful not to track it inside.”

The mer looks towards the house, “Not sure water damage will make it any worse. Why's it so drab?” 

“My family has certain tastes.Namely, expensive enough to inspire jealousy but not interesting enough to suggest something like a personality.” He rolls up his cuffs, “what are the buildings like where you're from?”

“Depends on where exactly you live and what’s around. Some folks use coral or rock, wood, even seaweed sometimes. Buildings end up all kinds of colors, just like the fish.” He chuckles, “hell, some mers put certain sea plants on their houses to attract fish that match the color scheme.”

“That sounds lovely. I’d paint our whole house bright colors if I could. But alas, everything here must be to the most current taste, even if that taste is boring.” The dinner bell sounds and he stands, “I have to go. Thank you for letting me help you. It…it was a pleasure to aid in the maintenance of your scales. May I come visit again tomorrow?”

“It’s your house.” Duck slips back into the pool.

“Yes, but this” he points at the water “is yours.”

The mer smiles up at him, intrigued, “In that case? Yeah, you can come see me whenever you want.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ahem. Duck, I know the circumstances are not ideal, but you are a magnificent subject and I would like to draw you. May I?”

Indrid looks at Carl, who clacks his claws.

“You are right, that is much better when it’s short and sweet.”

“Dunno, thought the one where you offered to make me a portrait to keep on waterproof paper was really somethin'.”

“Ah!” Indrid jolts as green eyes peer from the reeds he convinced the gardener to plant on one edge of the pool, “how long have you been listening?”

“Long enough to decide that the answer is yes, as long as you bring me somethin to do because it’s fuckin boring in here. Any luck getting your brother’s binoculars so I could birdwatch?”

“No, and I am lucky to still have my hands after he caught me. But I’ll order you some. Here, find a comfy spot and I will be right back.”

He hurries up to the house and returns with his supplies and remote controlled boat, which Duck takes and immediately begins steering in circles. Indrid turns to a blank page and devotes himself to capture the shape of Duck’s tail, the swell of his arms and belly, the way his dark hair dries to soft waves in the sun. 

Eventually, Duck guides the ship to harbor in a patch of reeds and turns his full attention to Indrid, asking him how his commissions are going and if he’s had a chance to anything other than attend his fathers anxiety-inducing work partners. Indrid is so caught up in their talk and his drawings that he doesn’t think to go inside until his brother shouts several insults his way and tells him to get into the house. Before he leaves, Duck winks at him and blows him a kiss. 

Apollo could call him the worst names under the sun and he wouldn’t care. Not when there’s a ghost of a merman’s kiss on his cheek. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Duck knows Indrid helps his dad with some sort of design work for his firm in the mornings, which is why he’s never out with Duck until the late afternoon or evening. As summer rushes in, he finds this schedule comes with a perk: it’s hot enough in the garden that Indrid arrives in shorts and tank tops, long legs and lithe arms on full display, tempting Duck to grab them and pull their owner into the water for some fun. 

This afternoon, Indrid is sporting black swim trunks with images of moths dotted across them. When Duck asks, he says the laundry is delayed (which turns out to mean his father broke the washing machine out of spite).

“Well, since you’re dressed for it, wanna join me for a swim?”

“You’re sure that’s alright?”

“Wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t. C’mon” he holds out his hand, “promise I don’t bite. Uh. Anymore.”

Indrid laughs, thank fuck, and pulls off his shirt before dropping into the pool. Duck swims over to him, lazily circling the human as he treads water. 

“Ah, one moment.” Indrid paddles back to the side, removes his red glasses, and then returns to the center of the pool. Duck’s never seen him with uncovered eyes and it’s a treat; without the glasses, he looks closer to his age, traces of vulnerability and youth hiding behind the angles of his face. 

Duck returns to his circling, ignoring the fact that it’s what he’d do if he was chatting up another mer who caught his eye. Curious, he tightens the circle, letting his tail brush Indrid’s legs. Indrid’s commentary on a slasher movie he watched the previous night stutters out, and when Duck swims closer, the humans breath catches.

“Duck? What are you doing?”

“Sayin’ thanks.” he leans in and rubs his cheek against Indrid’s own, purring low in his throat, “this is how mers do that.”

“Oh” Indrid hesitantly returns the gesture, “I have hardly done much deserving of thanks.”

“Bullshit.” Duck murmurs, wrapping his arms around Indrid’s waist, “you’ve looked out for me and been on my side even when I know it got you guff from your family. You’re my friend, ‘Drid.” He moves his mouth closer to Indrid’s ear, “and if I had it my way, we’d be more than friends.”

“Really?” Indrid loops his arms around Duck’s hips, out of view of any watchful eyes in the house. 

“Uh huh.” Duck nips his earload, making him squeak, “now that’s a damn cute noise.”

“Duck I, I want this so badly but if anyone finds out…I don’t know what would happen to you.” Brown eyes meet his own, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It ain’t your fault any more than it’s mine” Duck pulls back some, puts his hands on Indrids thighs so he can hold him against his tail as he swims backwards, “But let’s stick to this for now. Ain’t no harm in takin’ a dip together, right?”

Indrid’s smile is a heartaching mixture of hope and resignation, “No, none at all.”

—-----------------------------------------------------

He’s learned to expect some weird shit in the Cold’s garden, but a pick-up truck speeding across the grass and turning sharply so it’s bed is to him is a new one. 

When Indrid leaps from the drivers seat, engine still going, hope bubbles up in his chest. 

“Drid?”

“I am getting you out of here” the tailgate thumps open, revealing a rectangular feeding trough, “there’s enough water in there to last you until we get to the river. Come on, help me” 

Duck heaves himself out of the water, and Indrid helps him inelegantly into the truck. The human is already back in the car as Duck is shutting the gate and pulling himself into the trough. As they speed across the manicured lawns and out onto the highway, he wonders how long Indrid has been planning this; he knows the human has a friend who owns a truck, and he’s clearly paid attention whenever Duck talks about the boundaries of his territory. 

Lo and behold, Indrid takes a right into the swamps, the truck bumping and jostling as he pulls up to a chunk of river with a tree split like an L in the center of the water. 

He’s brought Duck home. 

The human hops back out of the car, gesturing for Duck to hurry. And he intends to, but not before he asks the main thing on his mind.

“What are you gonna do?”

“I, I will be in Kepler, the little town a half hour up the coast. I bought a plane ticket to Bogota, so they won’t look for me in Kepler. If they look for me at all.”

“‘Drid-”

“I will be alright. I promise. Now please, go. If they followed us, I don’t want you getting caught a second time.”

Duck grabs Indrid’s face, kisses him as hard as he dares, and then vaults out of the truck and into the water. A safe distance down river, he raises his head to see taillights disappearing into the darkness. He blows them a kiss and dives, home free, for the first time in months. 

—----------------------------------------------------

They don’t follow him. Whether they don’t know where he’s gone or don’t care, Indrid can’t say. 

What he can say is that the savings he’d hidden for years inside a fake skull on his desk buys him the first months rent on an apartment by the sea, some thrifted furniture, a bike he can ride around town, and a tank for Carl, who he’d snuck from the pond the afternoon before the escape. 

It’s been a week and there’s no sign of Duck. Indrid knew this was a possibility, knew freeing him could mean never seeing him again and having part of his heart forever swimming in the sea. 

It was the right thing to do, but some selfish part of him keeps hoping he’ll look out his window to see a familiar face bobbing in the surf. 

Tonight, he’s sitting on the rocks by the beach, watching the moon on the water. It clears his head, being out here, knowing there’s no one to force him inside. 

A splash to his left and then he’s being rolled and held close to a damp, warm chest. When the hug loosens, he raises his head to discover he’s now laying on top of a beaming merman. 

“Hey darlin, miss me?”

“God yes.”

Duck leans up, kissing his chin, “Sorry it took so long, I had to work out what patch of beach you favored. Uh” he looks at Indrid’s white tank-top, now see-through thanks to the saltwater, “sorry I got you wet. Spotted you and I was too damn excited to think about anythin else.”

“I forgive you.” Indrid kisses him once, smiling as Duck’s tongue teases his lips, “but all the same: perhaps it’s time you helped me out of my wet clothes.”

[pheita]

3 & 12 for the end of the year ask game! (I hope you were asleep and the reblog was a queued post at 3am 😂 have a great end of 2023 and wishing you all the best for the next ✨)

Hi Rie, well, no, it wasn't a queued reblog. I made the mistake to drink a Red Bull at 1pm to power through baking more cookies and was up until 5am. I run on only 6 hours of sleep now 😅

3.did you achieve everything you wanted to this year? if not, how will you go about it?

I don't have any plans to achieve anything writing-wise for a year, so I can't answer this for real. The way I handle writing it is always I take what happens and be happy with it.

12.if your character(s) had their own new years resolutions, what would those be?

Oh damn, with playing around with 4 stories at the same time right now this will be long

Blood Night: I think most of them will go with trying to get tangled less in other people's politics. Especially Lyran will have this as no 1.

Sea of Memories, Sea of Chances: For Becca it might be to dare to trust more people who are in her life for years by now and showed they can be trusted. And for Killian, I think there will be nothing because he got the best end in some way with the end of the story. Well, maybe to interrogate his skipper if there are any more secrets he should know.

For the still unnamed fantasy werewolf story I am not that deep into building characters and world to know what the characters would have as resolution.

But for the unnamed fantasy story featuring dragons, I think Emersyn's resolution will be to find that weird stranger who blessed her with this weird abilities as a child and have a serious talk with after the inciting event lol

Akrin and Asterlayna will have to want a talk with their fellow dragons about what bullshit they pulled over the last centuries.

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

Fire On Fire: Chapter 19

(Ch. 18) ... (Ch. 1)

II Gallery II Symbol Guide II

Summary: Nothing solidifies a friendship like a good old-fashioned jailbreak.

A/N: According to everyone who knew him irl, Skip Muck was the Mom Friend of his group & sooo here, have some Reluctant Dad Friend Nix & Fun Mom Friend Muck😌💖

Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere @brassknucklespeirs @mccall-muffin @lieutenant-speirs @emmythespacecowgirl @holdingforgeneralhugs @parajumpboots @hxad-ovxr-hxart @sleepisforcowards @indigo-luvers @ax-elcfucker-blog @chaosklutz @mads-weasley @wwhatev3r

Contemporary: October 22nd, 1944. Zetten-Andelot, Netherlands.

“Just for the record, my helping does not mean I’m condoning this.” 

It took all of Alix's self-control not to roll her eyes at her handler as he neared to help her unwind the last of the bandages on her head. 

“Yes, I know," she groaned, half under her breath. "We heard you the first thousand times you said it."

Nixon passed the bandage to Malarkey, who stuffed it quickly into his pocket for safekeeping.

"And you'll hear it a thousand more, Martinelli, because it's a terrible idea!" 

"Then why are you still here?" Alix shot back, momentarily taking a break from unrolling the baggy jump jacket Skip had supplied to glare at Nixon.

"If you don't want to be involved, sir, you’re free to go."

Her case officer washed down another sip of liquor from his flask as he watched Alix tie the jacket around her waist. 

"I'm already involved," he huffed, crossing his arms like a disappointed father. "I'm in charge of your impulsive ass, in case you've forgotten."

"How could I forget?" Alix grumbled as she safety-pinned the Red Cross armband designating her as a combat nurse to her sleeve.

"You– Ow, shit!– You never fail to remind me." 

"Prick yourself, did you?" Nixon asked dryly, repositioning himself in his usual place against the back wall.

"Bastard” Alix muttered under her breath and Nixon snorted.

"That's Captain Bastard to you now," he corrected with a tap to his collar, his expression blank but somehow seeming even more smug, if that was possible.

After pinning her armband, Alix went to work examining the medic’s bag she carried, ensuring that everything was in place.

Her radio, the vials of Prussic acid, her forged identity papers, her gun– with additional bullets, supplied by Nixon–  and her knife were all inside, stashed under a slew of bandages and inside innocuous-looking boxes of field dressings. 

She only hoped it would be enough. 

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

As expected, it was a busy night at the aid station.

Skirmishes in the nearby area had gotten ugly fast and it seemed like stretchers were being rushed in by the minute.

As if that weren’t enough, Alix had pickpocketed a nearby nurse for her logbook and saw that they were expecting an influx of emergencies being transferred from Arnhem at about 10 o’clock that night. 

With no one watching the “walking wounded” like Alix, it would be the perfect time to slip out the door…If she could only get to it.

Her ankle throbbed terribly and she chewed on her bottom lip, hoping the metallic taste of blood would keep her thoughts from the pain. 

In their haste to treat those with life-threatening wounds from the battlefield, her dislocated ankle had been neglected. 

She had been assured that someone would see about treating it eventually but with all of the emergencies coming in, there simply hadn't been time.

Just putting her boots on earlier had been excruciating– she had to bite down on the blanket to avoid screaming– and she shuddered to think what the hike back to Easy Company would be like.

“You gonna be able to walk okay?” Skip asked from his seat beside her as if reading her mind.

“With my busted-up ankle? Not likely.”

Alix let out a sigh. “Between that and my stiff muscles, I'll probably end up crawling by the halfway point.”

“I'll carry you then.”

“You're hilarious, Skipper,” Alix deadpanned but the blond shook his head, looking far graver than she’d ever seen him.

“I'm serious,” he insisted. “If it gets that bad, I'll carry you. No friend of mine crawls anywhere.”

Despite herself, Alix could feel the pinpricks of tears beginning to well in her eyes and she blinked hard, forcing them back down. 

The fact that a friend she couldn’t even remember was still willing to risk his life to ease her burden…

“Skip Muck, you’re a saint, do you know that?”

He grinned at the praise, a certain effervescent vitality lighting up his face even despite the camo paint he was smearing on to obscure it.

"I do my best." 

"Time-check?" Alix asked and Nixon glanced at his watch. 

"5 minutes till go." 

With that, Malarkey stood up and looked to Nixon. 

"It's where it should be, correct?" 

The captain gave an almost imperceptible nod and added,

"Remember, the recognition phrase is ‘Flash’ and the response is–” 

“‘Thunder’, I got it.” 

With that, Nixon returned to his reports for plausible deniability as Malarkey gradually made his way to the back door and slipped outside.

Alix felt a sudden sense of finality sink into her bones as the squeals of tires in the distance grew louder.

The ambulances were arriving.

"Last chance to back out, guys," she said, ensuring that she made eye contact with the remaining two members of the group but neither took the opportunity.

"On the bright side," Skip grinned, jostling his friend's shoulder slightly. "If we don't die, this is gonna be one hell of a story!"

Just then, the doors to the aid station were thrown open and there were frantic shouts of “Move” as soldiers flooded the room hauling the wounded inside, the stench of sweat, blood, and death all mingling in the air like a perverse perfume. 

With a grudging nod of encouragement from Nixon, who was still staring down at the pages in his hands as though his life depended on it, Alix forced herself to her feet.

It was time.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

It had been Nixon's idea to steal tactically acquire the motorcycle in the first place but it had been Don who actually ended up doing it. 

Leaning on Skip’s outstretched arm and trying her hardest to keep from limping too noticeably, Alix had managed to make it out the building’s backdoor without being spotted and the rattling of a motorcycle engine and the crunching of gravel alerted them to Don’s arrival.

The bike had been requested in Nixon's name so they'd have to hurry before it was spotted.

But much to her embarrassment, no matter how much she tried, Alix was unable to climb into the sidecar with only one functional foot.

"Dio Santo!" she swore under breath as she attempted one last hop but fell short yet again.

Noticing her troubles, Skip scooped her up and deposited her into the sidecar like a life-size ragdoll before clambering into the seat behind her. 

“Scoot up,” he yelled over the thundering roar of the engine just as Don kicked off and the whole bike lurched forward into the deep purple night.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

Flying through the countryside in the dark was not very scenic but the freeing sensation of the wind whipping through her hair more than made up for it. 

Alix felt the urge to laugh welling up inside her as they raced through the heart of the Netherlands.

Having been confined to her cot in the corner of the aid station for the better part of a month had felt like an eternity and now, heading back into the field, Alix had never felt more alive.

She wished Joe could be there with her, to experience a fraction of the joy she was feeling in that moment.

Imagining his lopsided grin as they zipped through the night brought a slew of butterflies to her stomach but she cut that train of thought off as quickly as it had come. 

He clearly hadn’t been thinking about her so why should she waste her time thinking about him?

Shaking her head, the spy resolved to focus on the map by the needle-thin beam of her flashlight. 

Within minutes, the road ended, leaving them at the edge of a dense patch of woods in the pitch-black night. 

“I’m not liking this,” Don mumbled as the engine slowed to a purr, shaking Alix from her thoughts as Skip hopped over her shoulder, out of the sidecar.

Alix was inclined to agree. 

There was a heavy stillness hanging in the air more reminiscent of a graveyard than a forest which made her uneasy.

This would be the most dangerous part of the plan, the part she had been dreading: the 4.5 mile walk in the woods to Easy's encampment in Driel. 

As much as she would have preferred it, the trio couldn't risk bringing the motorcycle; its deafening roar would alert every Kraut in the nearby area of their exact position. It would have to be stashed for now and retrieved during daylight hours. 

Strange shapes and shadows seemed to follow them, twisting every tree branch into a living nightmare, and the young agent found herself clutching the worn strap of her medic’s bag a little bit tighter, the security of having her weaponry available adding a dash of comfort.

Shifting her weight with a sharp exhale, she half-hobbled, half-hopped forward, keeping her injured foot hovering just above the ground to prevent accidental weight-bearing. Even with Don in the lead, forging ahead, and Skip behind her, watching her six, she still felt far too vulnerable.

“Krauts are like wolves,” she remembered her fellow Sparrow, Jennie, saying in her thick Cajun accent after a particularly rough sparring session. “They can smell your fear. Don’ let 'em.” 

She wondered vaguely where Jennie was, if her missions were going well, but the white-hot pain emanating from her swollen ankle brought her back to Earth.

The burning sensation seemed to only intensify with every step of her good foot, bringing involuntary tears springing to her eyes but Alix clenched her jaw tightly, steeling herself to continue limping ahead into the darkness. 

She would be strong. Strong like Jennie.

"How ya feeling, Pyro?" Skip whispered from behind her and the spy shrugged but her response came from between tightly-clenched teeth. 

"I'll make it." 

In front of them, Don froze, holding up a cautioning hand and signaling for the three of them to crouch. 

Lowering herself gingerly to the forest floor, an involuntary whimper of pain escaped Alix's mouth the moment her swollen ankle touched the ground, muffled only by the sound of her pounding heartbeat. 

The crackling of snapping twigs alerted the trio to a presence up ahead and the spy tensed, slipping her good hand into her bag in search of her weapon.

“Flash!” Don hissed and the ensuing call of ‘Thunder!’ made Alix’s shoulders sag with relief, even as a curly-haired paratrooper roughly the size of a grizzly bear appeared through the brush. 

"Holy shit, Bull" Skip exhaled from behind her, putting a hand to his chest like a man in shock. "You scared us half to death!" 

The larger man let out a deep chuckle and when Alix straightened up, he cocked his head in surprise. 

"Pyro, ain't you s'posed to be in the hospital?" 

"You gonna tell on me?" she teased and he shook his head, a toothy grin spreading across the Southerner’s face. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it. We was gettin' into all sorts of mess without ya!”

"Well we can't have that!" Alix joked as she limped forward to properly greet him, wincing with every painful step. 

Bull engulfed her in a bear hug so tight that Alix swore she could feel her ribs snapping like twigs before letting go and gesturing for the three to follow him back to the rest of the company.

Not wanting to fall behind her companions, Alix pulled the jump jacket from her waist and bit down hard on it as she forced herself to hobble along quicker using her bad ankle, every beat of her heart chanting the same mantra:

Keep moving. Keep moving. Keep moving. 

She would not be the weak link. 

But the spy made it about four or five steps before the sheer agony overwhelmed her, fire shooting up her leg as every nerve seemed to scream out in pain. She bit down on her jacket sleeve to keep from crying out and stumbled forward, nearly hitting the ground.

Skip was beside her in a flash to help but with the same reproachful look Gio had given when she'd scraped her knee bloody climbing a tree in the courtyard just before her Confirmation after their parents had specifically told her not to.

Goddammit Alix, that look seemed to say. Quit being so stubborn.

Skip hung back slightly from the group with a sympathetic smile and slung his rifle over his shoulder like it weighed no more than a feather.

“You’re gonna bust up your ankle some more if you keep that up,” he chided gently before hunching forward, gesturing to his back emphatically.

“Hop on.” 

Alix shook her head, doing her best to paint on a smile but it didn't reach her eyes. 

"Skipper, I'm fine." 

"So you're just chomping down on your sleeve because it's tasty, huh?" Skip commented dryly, still hunched over. 

"I'm gonna say it again: Hop. On."

"Hey, are y'all comin' or what?" Bull whispered from up ahead of them and Don turned around, his expression clearly irked that two of their group were lagging behind.

"Pyro, so help me God, I will stand here till the sun comes up or I get shot in the ass, whichever comes first,"

Skip insisted doggedly, his voice sounding strained from hunching so far forward. 

"So will you please take me up on the piggyback ride already before my damn back breaks?"

"...Fine." 

With an air of resignation, Alix relented, hopping over to her friend, who then hoisted her up onto his back with ease as they rejoined the rest of the group.

"You better be watching my six up there, Pyro," he joked about twenty minutes later.

"'Cause I promised Faye I'd come home in one piece and I don't plan on ruining my perfect record."