#but you are too concerned with how fuck awful city society is to get in on this dragussy

[umi-usagi]

Halsin's romance scene wont trigger, so I went with the next best thing

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Young President!Coriolanus Snow x First Lady Wife!Reader

It's no secret that your marriage to your husband, President Coriolanus Snow, is an arranged one. Your father, Colonel Javani Halvir, just happened to be bestfriends with his father, General Crassus Snow, so of course the families had drafted up a marriage contract for the two of you. A contract that was made when you were still little kids.

Of course, when you came of age you got married. The engagement was actually a long one, considering Coriolanus wanted to wait until he graduated the University to get married. You didn't mind tho since it meant you were able to get to know him better due to the longer courtship.

Despite his cold and stoic demeanor, Coriolanus was a really nice man to you. And as time went by he became more and more enchanted with you- well, despite claiming to never love again he truly did fall madly and obsessively in love with you. He always made sure to show you his love and devotion too, whether that be by showering you with gifts or kisses. Whether that be by making sweet love to you or passionately fucking your brains out. But, Coriolanus Snow always made sure that you knew how much you meant to him. Both before and after you said ‘I do’.

But a lot of your so-called ‘friends’, the socialites and wives of other political elites and friends of your husband, would often make little remarks about how awful it must be being married to President Snow since he's such a cold, stoic, hard, hateful, ruthless man. Despite these women being afraid of your husband, they still talked shit about him. And in places they knew you'd overhear too, like in the lady's room at galas, balls, tea parties, etc.

And this afternoon you came home from a charity luncheon for Doctor's Saving Districts very distraught. When your personal maid took a seat next to you on the sofa in your sitting room and asked, “First Lady Y/N, what's the matter? Wasn't the charity luncheon nice?”, you burst into hysterical tears.

“Oh, Beatrice, it was horrible. Completely horrible.” You cry, causing your personal maid to just give you a questioning look. “My friends were gossiping about me and my husband in the bathroom; they said such horrible things.”

“What did they say, First Lady Y/N?” Bianca, your personal maid and friend in the Presidential Palace, asked while wrapping her arms around you, pulling you into a hug.

“That it must be horrible being married to the president since he's such a cold, stern, stoic man.” You told your maid the exact words you heard Livia Heavensbee nee Cardew tell your friend Megara in the ladies room this afternoon.

Before Bianca could say any words of sympathy to you, you begin to break down and cry. “They assume he's a cold and hateful husband when he's not. And they think I'm miserable when I'm happy with him.”

Unknown to you, Coriolanus has finished his meeting earlier than expected and decided to pay you a visit in the living quarters of the Presidential Palace to inquire about the charity luncheon you attended today. Your husband was very proud of you for being such an avid philanthropist. Your kind heart and sunshine disposition made your inner beauty rival that of your putter beauty; it made the president love you even more than he thought possible.

So, when Coriolanus walks into the sitting room only to be met with the sight of your crying, crumpled form being held by your personal maid and friend, he's very concerned. But when he hears your sob ridden voice hiccup, “My friends assume that Coryo doesn't love me because of his proper and stern disposition he displays in public and it hurts. But what hurts more is that they assume I'm miserable in a loveless marriage, Bianca.”

Hearing you say that breaks President Snow’s heart and pisses him off too. How dare the high society women of Capitol City, Panem pretend to be your friends only to gossip behind your back; say blatant lies about your relationship? Who do those useless socialite whores think they are? Making his wife cry? Slandering his personality and his love for you?

Those Capitolite bitches need to pay and he knows just the perfect way to make them do that. Oh yes, he's going to make them pea green with envy at the next gala (which is at the end of the week for the Doctors Saving Districts charity) by being the perfect doting husband to you.

“Those women are just jealous fools, First Lady Y/N. It's clear as day to the entire palace staff that President Coriolanus loves you very much; in fact, those women must be wearing blinders if they can't see how much you mean to your husband.” Bianca tells you in a very supportive and friendly tone.

“I doubt it. My husband's not one for PDA, so there's no true way for my friends to see that he’s not a hateful, cold hearted bastard.” You sniffle, pulling away from your maid and wiping your eyes.

How dare those women call him a hateful, cold hearted bastard towards his wife? Well, he just happens to know that despite being sweethearts with Persephone, Festus is currently cheating on her with not one, but two mistresses. And your friend Megara, well he has it on good authority that her husband, who's a lobbyist for a politician that opposes the president, is having an affair with his driver.

Hmm, these women think that their husbands love them so much because they hang on them in public, but that's far from the truth. Their husbands are putting on a show, an elaborate act, for everyone.

It's an act that Coriolanus never felt the need to put on because he's faithful to you, loves you with his entire being, and doesn't feel the need to ‘prove’ his devotion to you. But now he needs to be a better husband in public than the men your ‘friends’ are married to.

Coriolanus is determined to show you off at the gala in a few days. Make you feel like the most loved and adored woman in all of Panem.

The president decides to back out of the room and let you cry with Bianca, your trusted maid and friend, in privacy. He’ll come back later when he knows your tears are dried and your makeup’s fixed to ask about your charity luncheon. Coriolanus doesn't want to embarrass you by letting you know that he overheard your tearful breakdown about your relationship being labeled a cold loveless one.

When Saturday night rolled around your husband, President Snow, took you to the charity gala for Doctors Saving Districts. You two looked like the epitome of a regal couple- him with his dark burgundy suit and crisp white shirt, complete with ruby cufflinks, and you in your white strappy ball gown with dangling ruby and diamond earrings, ruby and diamond choker, and ruby and diamond tennis bracelet. His platinum blonde hair was slicked back in its signature pompadour while yours was pinned in an elegant half-updo. And to top it all off, you wore matching white roses. His white rose was on his lapel while your white roses were tucked into your half updo- making your silky hair pop beautifully.

All of the men secretly wish that you’re hanging on their arms instead of on your husband's. The men envied Coriolanus for being your husband. One would think men would covet his presidential position, but that wasn't the case.

No...

In fact, you're the most beautiful lady in the Capitol according to the murmurs amongst the elite and wealthy men. Hell, if you'd give them a second look they'd drop their wives faster than a hot potato. But that'll never happen because you only have eyes for your husband, President Coriolanus Snow.

And the cold, stoic, stern, ruthless Mister President only has eyes for you as well. And because of that, he's not letting you leave his side tonight. President Coriolanus Snow is going to show you off; dote on you so much that the socialites of the Capitol will be astonished, envious, and will never utter a slanderous lie against him as your husband ever again.

“There's Hilarious and Livia Heavensbee.” Coriolanus subtly pointed out the miserable looking couple as they bickered by the punch bowl. “Shall we go over and say hello, darling?”

After overhearing Livia and Megara’s hurtful gossip about your husband being unloving to you the other day, well, you didn't want to be around her. But your husband's the president and he's old classmates with the Heavensbees, so you understand why he suggested approaching them to strike up polite conversation. Coriolanus had to portray himself as a polite and charming creature to ensure that he kept his top political position.

Although only Capitol citizens are eligible to vote, a vote for presidential terms is held every handful of years. So, your husband has to play nice with the other Capitolite elite.

And you?

Well…

You need to be the epitome of a perfect wife and a perfect First Lady. Which, unknown to you, Coriolanus feels that you've far exceeded his expectations for you in that department.

“Yes, let's say hello to them.” You nod, a thin smile on your face, as an Avox comes over holding a tray full of champagne.

Coriolanus grabs two flutes of champagne, one for each of you, and dismisses the Avox. Handing you your drink, he takes a sip of his. Once your fingers are daintily wrapped around the champagne flute, your husband's large hand rests on the small of your back as he guides you over to Hilarious and Livia Heavensbee.

“Hilarious,” Coriolanus greets his former Academy acquaintance with a nod. Turning to Livia, who he's always hated, but hates ten fold now because of how she made you cry, your husband puts on a fake smile and greets her, “Livia, I believe you attended the charity luncheon with my wife, Y/N, this past Wednesday.”

Livia Heavensbee nee Cardew looked every inch a fine socialite in her black evening gown and black sheer gloves, but she couldn't hold a candle to you. In fact, her husband's sneaking glances at you while President Snow caresses your back as you're tucked into his side, sipping on champagne.

Mrs. Heavensbee is a bit surprised by your husband's hand stroking up and down your spine. She's also shocked that you're tucked into the president’s side; looking every bit like a woman being doted on by a loving husband.

It can't be so, can it? Coriolanus is a cold, hard, unfeeling, stern, ruthless man. How can he be a doting husband to you? It doesn't make sense to Livia.

No sense to her at all.

“Yes, we attended the charity luncheon together.” Livia confirms, all the while her eyes are glued to the way President Coriolanus Snow’s hand comes to rest on your hip- thumb pressing circles into the white fabric of your dress's bodice.

Not letting the Heavensbees get a word in, Coriolanus brags about your kind disposition. “My darling rose is quite the philanthropist. She heads so many charities and I couldn't be prouder of her for it.” Coriolanus bends down slightly, since he towers over you, and pecks you on the cheek. “Y/N is the perfect epitome of a true First Lady.” Turning to you, he asks in the loving baritone he reserves only for you, “Aren't you, baby?”

“Coryo, you flatter me more than I deserve.” You humbly counter. “I’m not that perfect.”

“See, not a vain bone in my wife's body to even take credit for all the work she does; for being the perfect embodiment of what a Capitolite lady should strive to be.” Coriolanus proudly told Hilarious and Livia while moving his hand up to caress your shoulder. Turning to Hilarious, he asks, “How's business been, old friend?”

“Business is business, as usual.” Hilarious flatly replied, earning him a nod from President Snow.

“Well, as much as I'd like to stick around and discuss your business, I must take my wife to greet some other friends.” The regal president tells the inferior couple, who don't even have matching outfits on, before dragging you away.

Livia’s livid as she sees your husband's hand slide down to pinch your ass while the two of you head towards where your friend Megara's at. Never did Livia think that President Coriolanus Snow could be so doting on you. Why won't her husband caress her or goose her in public? It's not fair!

But, in Hilarious’ defense, he didn't love the dirty blonde shrew. He got stuck with her via an arranged marriage. The ancestor of the founding father of Panem and the heiress of the largest bank in not just Capitol City, but all of Panem, was a very smart match. It just never produced any love, but they did have a son. Plutarch. But they never talked about him.

“I'm surprised you're leading us over to Megara and her cousin Hera. I thought you didn't like them?” You ask your husband as your ‘friends' got into range.

Leaning down, Coryo's breath is hot against his ear as he whispers, “I don't like them, darling, but tonight I'll deal with their useless chatter in order to greet them with you, my love.”

“As nice as it is having you greet my friends with me, Coryo, you're the President of Panem and need to greet high ranking politicians and allies of your own accord.”

“You forget, baby, that you're my First Lady so you're able to be by my side as I greet allies, foes pretending to be allies, and business contacts.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you're going to be extra needy tonight?” You ask your husband in a whisper only he can hear.

Coriolanus icy eyes twinkle mischievously as he says, “Perhaps your beauty has overwhelmed my senses and I want my beautiful wife by my side tonight.” His hot breath tickles your ear as he huskily adds in, “And I want you to ride my cock for hours tonight, my love. For hours upon hours, til I'm too sensitive to get hard and your womb’s overflowing with my seed.”

You're speechless as your husband stops you right in front of your friends Megara and Hera. He greets them with the charming sophistication only Coriolanus possesses from a lifetime of selling snake oil and lies. And just like before, he sings your praises and caresses you in a way that has your ‘friends' seething in silent jealousy.

In fact, Coriolanus does it all night long- dote on you in such a way that every female in the room’s beyond jealous. And when he notices that the Capitolite ladies are visibily shaken by his displays of love and affection towards, he knows that he's won; that his mission to show everyone that you're very well loved and cared for by him- President Coriolanus Snow, has worked.

Oh, and when the Presidential Palace's PR team makes an announcement exactly one month later about how President Coriolanus Snow and First Lady Y/N Snow are expecting their first child, well, nobody at the gala's surprised. Far from it considering how much of a doting husband Coriolanus was to you that night.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @preteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @princess-harvey @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[wurdulac]

last year i wrote a list of media that touched me. bcs i have shit for memory i was noting down things i watched, played etc. this year. so here's the list.

the city and the city by china miéville - loved it...

the longing - idle game that felt quite promising in the beginning. you play as a lonely shade that has to wait 400 days for his king to wake up. it can get kinda weird and idk how i feel about this anymore.

rain dogs - extremely bleak life circumstances, intense toxic friendship. 'fast food isn't good for you. but i fucking love it'

deadwood - very intriguing way of plotting a story of a settlement but some things abt were fucking stupid and i'm still frustrated when i think abt it. haven't finished the final season and i don't really feel like it.

vanished birds <- read this or else

dungeon meshi - most beautiful art with dynamically drawn creatures and beasts that then get shown being cooked into delicious (and nutricious!) meals in great detail. setting is a spoof of a stereotypical party adventure world but it tries to make sense of its rules and creates in turn something quite unique. great characters too.

wuthering heights - extremely good narrative device. never knew that we learn this story through a tale being told by a servant to some cringey guy. surprisingly well depicted psychology of the characters. reading abt child abuse upset me so bad. society will fuck you up. some ways to better your lot are closed to you based on your gender and race. fucking up people over generations. also moors. they're important.

ghost in the shell

barry - the fact that the show never lets him forget. the satire on show biz, loving the veterans. it's like a more clownish version of breaking bad in a way (both being concerned with morality). characters are caritaturish but everything they do is taken extremely seriously. also it's quite inventive with filmography. solid. loved it.

sangfielle - weird fiction arc of FaTT podcast.. extremely good setting

andor - they didn't lie when they said star wars can be good. abt opression and imperialism.. and droids done well.

repo man - plotted in a very fun way... unforgettable ending.

hellraiser - it was so promising. shouldn't have turned into tense rubic cube solving under most dire circumstances ever imo.

bg3 - the themes have made me insane. it managed to be cohesive. it's the. carousel of violence. cycle of abuse. relationship with power. trusting the other not to use violence against (even though they could). male manipulators. the dark urge. it's not without its faults and it should have been tighter (durge should be the main protag and no tav, chop down act 1, erase halsin)

the terror - such a mixed bag. a very good and tense thriller about imperialistic hubris but. they put a beast there. and the villain was??? idk man.

iasip (well technically i've been trying to watch it for years, but this year alone i watched like 4 seasons or maybe more) - i simply love iasip. its style of comedy that is irreverent. the mad schemes. awful dynamics. touching real darkness.

blowback (podcast) - about american imperialism. first season abt iraq war tone-wise feels like if behind the bastards and citations needed had a baby. recommended.

roadwarden - loved it. loved the setting!

anyway... i kinda stopped reading books after i quit my job (no longer commuting somewhere regularly so i stopped using my kindle). had plans to watch more movies but it's always a struggle to sit down and start watching. went to more than 0 galleries but not that many tbh. i sometimes don't know what to say and most of my comments are still pretty general and feel trite.

[melissa-titanium]

do u think they would go to school. not willingly obviously. not in a "we have to reintegrate ourselves into society" kind of way but more like. "we have to have some level of stability with eachother since we obviously dont have a home and DEFINITELY dont want to get capped by child services or god forbid the police so lets Act Normal for a little bit" and they. suck at it ❤️

they get into school. how? i dont fucking know LOL. i actually dont remember how public highschool works im going next year but lets just assume they manage to fake having guardians. i think mono would be better at traversing this kind of stuff because its People Stuff and six is more Street Smart The Type Of Person To Help You Hide A Body So Well The Cops Wont Even Find The Bones In A Decade Stuff . school lunches = food for them ? JOBS? how would this go . i dont know. the teachers are probably wildly concerned by both of their poor comprehension of language and literally non existent math ability. a kid looks at mono weird in the cafeteria and gets sent to the hospital while six gets sent to the principals office.

i think a lot of this would just be dealing with change. when youve lived your whole life in a place so very awful to the point where its the only world you know, getting jostled back to a world of the past is like being on an entire different planet. which i suppose it technically is.

regardless. mono in this would be old enouh to drive and that is good for exactly No one ❤️ i think mono would drive a stick shift. my cartism is strong but i am stronger i will Not assign him a car. yet.

six would especially struggle getting used to th real world . esp with her like. escapism. she lived in her own little pocket space in a world where everything was cruel as a way to cope. now that she's really back in a place that ISNT dangerous, why is she still nervous? why is it not perfect? would it ever be? is this it? is this all there is? <- her trauma

mono would be in a similar boat but like. suppressing the fuck out of it. he has more experience with cities, with "people," i think he knows how they SHOULD behave so none of this is exactly new to him, it's most of what he's known, but also. he and six are both eachothers dog to the others cheetah so hes reflecting her anxiousness and thats good for no one.

i think they just kinda run around and chill in public spaces like parks and woods and shit . i wonder when theyd start calming down . id like to talk about this more but its kind of embarrassing for me because these type of aus are really hard to get & characterize well without taking them TOO seriously

i despise most ages up ln aus because theyre usually created with the purpose of shipping or God Forbid NSFW shit . but i think the concept of seeing how it would happen & what the characters would look like is very interesting id like to figure something like that out

[thought-42]

Fictober Day 5: “No, anything but that”

Critical Role, 673 words, Zerxus et al.

In which the telepathic bond is sure a thing that happens, huh

"Awful news, everyone." Patia's voice floats through Zerxus' head in the middle of his mid-morning tea run, and he has to ask the man at the coffee cart to repeat his total. "The Council will no longer be storing crystal recordings of their meetings in the Archives."

"Oh no," says Laerryn, utterly devoid of expression or tone, "anything but that."

"That's illegal," says Cerrit.

"That's not illegal," says Loquatius. "It's a little discourteous, but other than that it isn't as if they're obligated to report their private business to anyone with a note from a university."

"They are, though?" says Patia.

Zerxus smiles politely at the man behind the counter and carries the tray of teacups back towards the public courtyard where he is one of a group of Oracles bullshitting a report for the Navigators' Guild on atmospheric pressures and weather patterns for the next six months. Because that is definitely what the universe chooses to share with those who have trained for years to connect their consciousness to the grand web made by the strings of possibility.

The sun is warm on his back, the smell of flowers heavy on the gentle breeze.

"Don't bring your fantasies of democracy into this," says Loquatius. "We're a civilised society, thank you."

"They're only fantasies until the coup happens," says Cerrit. "You never see us coming, motherfucker."

"You go get 'em," Evandrin says, clearly distracted. "Punch that governmental system right in its magical face."

"I've been doing some reading."

"I hate it here," says Laerryn.

"Ask me about democratic process and its relationship to the free market in exactly two hours," Nydas says. "I have thoughts, but I also have a meeting with a giant sea serpent about a ship."

"What... happened to the ship?" Patia asks, tentatively.

"He ate it. Hence the meeting."

Zerxus passes through the gates. His colleagues are spread out across most of the benches, taking over decorative ledges and statues and garden beds. It makes him nostalgic for the sort of school days he never had.

"Democracies only destroy transparency," says Loquatius. "The same people are in charge, they just have to be more underhanded about how they get there."

"I love when you have opinions," says Evandrin, amused.

"how dare you?" says Loquatius. "I have never had an opinion in my life."

"We love a conflict of interest here," says Laerryn.

"No, I think that's only you, dear," says Patia.

"Hurtful," says Loquatius. “I’m very lovable.”

Zerxus passes out the teacups, laughs softly at a joke he can only half focus on.

"You'll tell us if there's anything good, though, won't you, Loquatius?" Patia coos.

"That's not the point," says Cerrit, at the same time Loquatius says

"I rarely get invited in to those meetings."

"You could get in if you wanted to,” Cerrit points out, immediately distracted from his previous thought.

"Shut the fuck up," Laerryn says, and Zerxus can feel the full weight of her sudden focus slam into the bond. He staggers a bit, sits down too hard on the bench where he'd left his notes and ink pot.

"Zerxus, are you well?" one of his fellow Oracles approaches, forehead creased in concern.

"Yes, sorry. I was just light headed for a moment."

"It really would be useful, though," Patia is saying, at the same time Laerryn is projecting icy protective anger like a flashing red warning sign.

Sometimes Zerxus thinks Cerrit does things just to gage how dangerous Laerryn's reactions are.

"He ate! A ship!" Nydas cuts in. "Can you all stop please, I need to focus."

"Ok, but how big was it," Evandrin says.

Zerxus sends a chiding sensation at his husband before he can think better of it.

"He's alive!" says Evandrin. "Sweetheart, tell Patia and Cerrit that they should have some faith in the leadership of our city."

"Burn it to the ground," says Zerxus, and picks up his quill.

[boognish-worshipper]

Sunrise, Sunset

switching it up with a franklin and lamar centered fic (not exactly as a ship buuut more or less some one sided feelings?) jus a silly little idea i had that was originally gonna be a one shot sorta thing or whatever,, changed my mind tho n i’m jus gonna split it up, this is part one !!

i feel like lamar would be very oblivious about his feelings towards frank tbh LMFAOOO

//

Lamar and Franklin sometimes drove out to the highest point in Los Santos to watch the sunrise. Well, more Lamar than Franklin, seeing as Franklin preferred to sleep in. He often dragged him out of bed to go take Chop out and see the sun peak up from the horizon, lighting the city up with natural reds and yellows.

“C’mon you lazy fuck, we gon’ miss it!”

“Lamar, the sun rises every fuckin’ day! Trust me, it’ll be there tomorrow.”

“You jus’ a lazy bum who don’t wanna get his lazy bum ass outta bed. Man get up already!”

Chop barked, and Lamar nodded to him.

“Yeah, you right Chop. This muhfucker don’t wanna budge, huh? Don’t even wanna take his precious dog for a walk. You oughta be ashamed of yoself Frank.”

“Chop wasn’t even my dog to begin with!”

“Man fuck you, you became co-parent of him when you had to take him in!”

Franklin could only groan into his pillow, missing the blissful sleep he had been shaken awake from.

“Just go away Lamar! Damn!”

He felt the taller man looming over him, grabbing his shoulders to shake him further awake.

“We’re running outta time, fool. C’mon, I’ll let you ride shotgun this time.”

Chop barked in protest.

“Chop, it’s the only way we might get him out the house.”

Accepting that arguing would get him nowhere, Franklin sat up right, glaring at Lamar.

“For fucks sake man, fine. I’ll go. Jus’ lemme throw on some clothes that ain’t the shit I wore to bed.”

Lamar grinned widely at him.

“Fuck yeah! Chop, let’s go wait in the car.”

The small dog trotted not too far behind Lamar’s long legs. Franklin wondered what force he disturbed that landed him in this position. He sighed, knowing that he wasn’t exactly a saint, so there wasn’t much to wonder at all. If this was his punishment then so be it. The car ride wasn’t too long, especially not after Franklin moving out of Strawberry to Vinewood Hills, making it easier for them to get there. Minimal traffic because of how early it was helped too. Lamar never dropped his grin, just happy to do his favorite thing with his favorite person. Who wouldn’t love watching the sunrise with their best friend? Especially seeing the way the sun lit his face up, a delicate smile on his face seeing an excellent sunrise and- Woah. Where’d that come from? Lamar figured it was just his excitement to see a particularly gorgeous sunrise, using that as an excuse for the feeling that sat in his gut. As soon as they pulled up to the spot, he bounced out of his seat, keeping the door open for Chop.

“We here homie!”

“Mhm.. so where the fuck’s the sunrise?”

“Patience Frank, patience.”

“But you jus’ fuckin’ bitched at me for the last half hour about how we was gon’ miss it! Fuck you mean patience?!”

“It’s coming! Don’t ruin a moment that’s gon’ be special, F.”

He grunted in Lamar’s direction, turning around to go play with Chop for the time being. The sunrise crept up, a ray of sunlight hitting Lamar in the eye. He blocked the light with his hand, hitting Franklin with his free one.

“Ay Frank, look!”

The sunrise that crawled up from the depths of the horizon shone in glimmers of gold and pretty shades of orange. Lamar smiled again.

“Man.. look at that. It’s beautiful ain’t it-“ He turned to face Franklin, who was caught in a trance. The sun hit his face just right, and he looked incredible. Like some sort of focused statue or whatever. It was alright to admire your homies like that, right? Nothin’ wrong with admiring a dude. Franklin turned back to answer him.

“Yeah, it sure is.. you good man?”

Lamar coughed slightly, shifting his weight onto one of his feet.

“Uh.. yeah man, just thought I saw a bug crawling on yo face or sum’. But damn, I’m glad we caught this.”

“Me too. But I’m still pissed you dragged me outta bed so fuckin’ early.”

“Man what’d I say? Don’t bitch while we havin’ a moment!”

Franklin only laughed and Lamar felt something in him stir. It was good to hear him laugh.

“So now what?”

“Well, if we leave now by the time we get back into the city some of them diners should be open for breakfast.”

“This early in the day?”

“Believe it or not Frank but the rest of society does their shit earlier than you. So ya, people eat this early.”

They went back to the car, with Chop riding shotgun this time. Franklin wanted to rest his eyes until they got to whatever food place Lamar was taking them to, earning a snarky comment from him. Lamar wanted to pick a decent place to eat and eventually settled on an old diner they went to as kids. He poked Franklin, reanimating him back to life.

“Look where we at dog.”

“Ohh shit, this that diner we used to go to after school everyday! It’s still in business?”

“Guess so man. Let’s go!”

“Wait! What about Chop?”

Shit. Right. Chop looked at the two men, tilting his head sadly.

“You wanna jus’ bring the food back to yo crib?”

“Eh fuck it. Why not.”

They decided on some basic breakfast food and brought it back to Franklin’s place. The big windows in his kitchen would illuminate the room well enough, and Lamar could value the view from there.

“So tell me Lamar, why’s it you only wanna go see the sunrise? You never mention watchin’ the sunset dog.”

“Ion really know myself homie. One day I just started gettin’ up early wit’ Chop to go walkin’ n shit.”

“Can we watch the sunset sometime then? I am tired of gettin’ up at the asscrack of dawn.”

“That’s cuz you ain’t get yo 9 hours dog.”

“Man, shut the fuck up. Who the hell gets 9 hours at our age? Bozo.”

“I’m just sayin’ maybe if you got some normal sleep for fuckin’ once you wouldn’t be such a GD grouch.”

“Whatever you say bro.”

The two finished their food in comfortable silence, with Franklin scolding Lamar at least once or twice for feeding Chop table scraps.

“So whatchu wanna do now?”

“We could always go catch a movie or sum’, maybe go see that Meltdown movie ya boy Mike was talkin’ ‘bout.”

“Yeah, I never did get the chance to go see it, with all the chaotic bullshit goin’ on.”

They left Chop at home after a long goodbye from Lamar, telling him that as soon as they got back that he would get all the treats in the world and all that other mushy shit. Franklin mocked the high-pitched voice he used to speak to Chop, earning a smack in the arm from Lamar.

They arrived for a matinee showing at the the theater closest to Franklin’s house, getting a bunch of complimentary snacks and some drinks. The movie was awful, but in a way that it was enjoyable to watch. A movie so bad it was good. Franklin kept leaning in to whisper to Lamar how corny the whole thing was, saying that it was definitely right up Michael’s alley. He ignored the closeness between him and his friend as best as he could, but he still shuffled in his seat awkwardly.

“Hey uh, Frank. I’mma go to the bathroom real quick, stretch my legs n shit.”

“Aight, see you in a minute homie.”

His walk to the bathroom felt stagnant, and when he got there all he could do was look at himself in the mirror. What the fuck was his problem right now?

“Get it the fuck together LD. It’s just Frank, it’s nothing weird. Chill out.” He spoke aloud to himself.

He splashed water in his face and walked back to the room showing Meltdown. The movie was almost over and Franklin didn’t make anymore comments. Lamar sighed inwardly, just wanting to get out of there already, despite the whole going-to-see-a-movie thing being his idea to begin with. He didn’t know why he was feeling the way he did right now, and he didn’t know how to make it go away. Franklin leaned over to whisper in his ear once more, sending a chill down Lamar’s spine.

“Dog, this movie sucks and it’s almost over anyway, you wanna just get out of here?”

“Uh.. yeah, yeah. Chop’s prolly missin’ us right now anyway.”

Lamar drove them back this time, driving a lot faster than he should’ve been.

“Woah, homie slow down! What’s the fuckin’ rush for?!”

“I jus’.. Ion know I’m not feelin’ too hot right now and I really jus’ wanna get back to yo place. Maybe lie down or sum’..”

“That ain’t gon’ happen if we get in a fuckin’ car wreck though!”

He slowed it down a bit hearing Franklin’s concerned tone, frustrated by that feeling again. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch. They pulled up into Frank’s driveway, Lamar nearly knocking over his recycling can, earning another disgruntled comment from Franklin.

“You been actin’ so weird bro, what’s goin’ on?”

“I honestly don’t know. Maybe the food we had jus’ not sittin’ right wit’ me.”

“Well, like you said go lie down or sum’. You wanna sleep in my bed for now? I’ll go take care of Chop or-“

“Uh sure, aight. I’mma go.. do that.”

Franklin looked at him like he had two heads, lifting a brow up in suspicion.

“Aight then, holla at me when you feel somewhat better.”

Lamar basically ran down the stairs to Franklin’s room, closing the door tight behind him. He slid down the door, looking straight ahead. Why did he feel so- so weird right now? He had a pleasant day overall with his best friend, what could possibly be bothering him?? He tossed his head back, making a small thud sound against the door. Groaning out loud, he did a walkthrough of today. He drove to Franklin’s, wanting to see the sunrise. Nothing unusual, this was a common thing they did. The sunrise was pretty, and lit everything up wonderfully. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. Franklin wasn’t entirely a buzzkill when they made it there, if anything he looked tranquil, the sun making his brown eyes glow. Then what? They got food, which tasted just like how he remembered from when Frank and him were just teens. Went to a movie which they basically talked the whole way through, Franklin continuously whispering in his ear. His voice so low and close made him feel hot all over, but it was just because whispering was like that no matter who was doing it. So what the hell was his problem right now? He must not have noticed how long he was in there, because he heard a light tap at the door.

“Lamar? You good homie?”

He rushed to stand up, pretending like he just woke from a short nap.

“Uh, yeah dog, doin’ just fine. Think layin’ down helped.”

“Good. You want me to take you home or do you wanna stay here?”

Part of Lamar wanted to stay just to be around Franklin a little while longer. The other part of him wanted to run right out the door. He thought it over, and figured he might need time to himself. He didn’t think he had it in him to be around Franklin after such a strange day. At least, a strange day for him. Franklin was thankful for the fact they had one normal day to hangout without shenanigans on Lamar’s part… besides the way he had been acting up to now.

“I think I’mma jus’ head back.”

“Aight then.”

The car ride back was silent. Lamar felt like the air was suffocating him, like any minute he’d pass out. He shifted in his seat to look out the window, familiar streets coming up. He didn’t want to look at Franklin for some reason, turning away from him.

“Hey, we here.”

He sat up, getting ready to get out of the car, until Franklin grabbed his wrist. Lamar felt like he was burning him with the contact.

“Ay man, what the fuck’s your problem today?”

“I already told you, it was the food or sum’, chill out dog.”

He loosened his grip, looking unsatisfied with his answer.

“Man fine, but if you hidin’ somethin’ from me I wanna fuckin’ know.”

“I’m not, I promise you.”

“You better not be, you mysterious bitch. Remember, you dragged me out of bed to hangout today.”

He winced, feeling guilty somehow.

“Yeah F, I know.”

Lamar looked back at his house, not wanting to get caught in Franklin’s death stare.

“I’ll see ya later or sum’ Frank.”

“See ya homie.”

He turned back, watching Franklin drive away. Torn between a relieved mood, and a pang of loneliness. As he walked inside his house, he slammed the door in frustration. Franklin and him were on the same page- he didn’t know why he was acting the way he was. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he went to a last resort to get an idea of something. That stupid psychic shoutout website that was growing in popularity. At least it was free.

Hello. What brings you to Miss Marcy’s site?

fuck you think, lady. help me out here

What with?

some fuckin explanation for why i feel weird rn

Were you just with a friend?

uh yeah

kinda why i’m here to begin with

I see. How close are you to said friend?

well, he like a brother to me ig? idk

never thought 2 deeply abt it.

A family friend? Hmm… I’m seeing the letter F, or T.

damn, you kinda good. it’s f

Wait a minute, I’m getting another letter. L!

yeah! my name starts with l!

You wouldn’t happen to be… I see it now… Lamar?

woah, you really fuckin good lady.

Well, I know I’m a psychic, but I have a feeling I spoke to your friend already.

you did?

Since when did Franklin visit stupid sites like this? He felt a blush creeping onto his face, wondering if Franklin might’ve been in the same boat as him at some point.

Yes. I think I have the answer to your problem, Lamar

please.

anything’ll help

Are you absolutely sure you want to hear it?

When I spoke to your friend, he didn’t seem too pleased with what I had to say.

c’mon lady don’t be a cocktease rn i need help

Well… okay.

You love him.

uh duh

he’s my best friend

why wouldn’t i?

No, I mean

You’re… *in* love with him.

His jaw went slack. He stared blankly at the screen. What?

the fuck?

uh no

ain’t no way.

I’m seeing a long time friendship. Lots of pining.

you ain’t seeing shit lady

u got it wrong

I knew you would say this - you can be mad at me all you want, but think it over

seriously, just think it over.

SERVICE UNAVAILABLE. PLEASE TRY AGAIN LATER.

“Fuck.” He whispered to himself.

“Fuck!”

He tossed his phone across the room onto his worn down couch. That didn’t solve his problem. If anything, it just made it worse. Love? Franklin? Him? What the fuck was that bitch smoking? He threw his palms over his face, groaning. He didn’t wanna think about what the fuck she meant. Because there was no way in hell he was in love with Frank. He couldn’t be. That was his day one. His best friend. That would be wrong, right? He paced around his living room, mind racing too quick for his liking. That couldn’t be the explanation for today. No way. That’s just ridiculous. There’s no way… no way he-

Then he thought about it. Like, really thought about it. The gears in his head were running at full speed now.

“Oh shit.”

//end of pt 1!!!!! this is already long as is, and i think i’m gonna finish it in another part or so. apologies for any grammatical errors ofc 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Of Ice and Blood

Part 2

Hello there! I present to you, part 2 of my orc x fem!human series!

I still don't know what to name this fic of mine

I should've thought about the title in the first place lmao

Anyways! I'll try updating constantly if I can. Enjoy reading!

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Cursing, lots of cursing. Mild violence and mentions of injury.

UD 01/10/21 : CLEANED AND PROOFREAD PROPERLY (hey I did my best)

(reference to the mask she's currently wearing //her hair is still braided// )

*

Even with the tedious introduction the professor was on about, I couldn’t help but pick up the whispers of my human classmates, and the unmistakable nasty odor they were giving off.

“Hey. Look at that orc over there.”

“Tsk. Beast. Why is it even here—”

“I bet it’s gonna get suspended from breaking someone’s arm.”

“It looks like he’s gonna kill somebody soon.”

Snickers and clicks of disgust went around the group.

The professor shushed them, not quite knowing what they were talking about before he moved on.

I cursed, feeling my blood boil from their words. The orc wasn’t even doing anything! And they slander him like that? I would love to break their fucking ne—

No, damn it! No violence! Mama will go crazy if she finds out I broke someone’s spine. Behave and endure. Remember your training.

...but seriously though, I'm going to fucking snap their legs. Nah, perhaps use pepper spray on their eyes until they go blind, even though the mixture inside my spray bottle wasn’t made to have permanent effects on someone, but it would still cause great discomfort.

I hugged my backpack, the thought of my dusters inside somehow comforting.

I didn’t notice Tai'chi was taking glances at me out of concern while I was imagining how I’d smash those jerks’ faces.

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

My mind wandered around the interaction by the gates earlier, and how... contradicting... it was when I entered the building.

Everything passed like a blur as I continued daydreaming about other things, hardly paying attention to what everyone else was saying. Plus it takes a lot of concentration to survive their pungent scents.

A bell rang, bringing me back down to Earth. It was lunchtime already.

Everyone seemed relieved as they started filing out of the area and headed towards the cafeteria. [a/n: Ooh that rhymed] I failed to see the lingering glances of barely masked distaste in our direction.

I glanced at the or— Tai'chi, whom I found out was looking at me already, stunning me at how he stared for a moment before I broke eye contact and stood up, which he also did. I almost fell back down my chair when I scented him.

Wha—

How the fuck did I not smell him before?!

I must’ve focused too much on the awful odor surrounding me that it didn’t register this—

This, oh my God.

To describe it, it was simply so— manly (or is it Orcish?). Like the scent of fresh earth and the warmth of a fireplace in the midst of a cold night. Embers crackling and sending sparks up into the sky.

He doesn’t smell one trace of a beast at all! In fact, I’ve never smelled someone so clean, so pleasant, all the while exuding masculinity, and was that a tad hint of vanilla?

For the first time in a while, I couldn’t place what the feeling was exactly. He simply smells so— good. Which is a positive sign?

I looked up to his eyes once more before I blurted out, probably a little too high-pitched;

“Lunch?”

Seriously? That’s what comes out of your damn mouth?

“I mean, do you want to go grab some lunch? At the cafeteria?” I clarified to sound normal and unaffected, (even when I clearly am).

Was the last part necessary? You’ve broken noses, dealt painful blows like a skilled warrior, but you’re embarrassing yourself.

I was busy reprimanding myself that I nearly missed what he said.

"Sure.”

He straightened up, and I was then faced with the reality of how damn tall he is. Or is it because I’m short? I barely reached over 5 feet, and he is standing there, almost three heads taller than me. Was he hunching for my sake earlier?

Wowie…

I scented a hint of pride, and was that a small quirk of his lips for a second there?

Huh. My mask is a lifesaver, or else he would've seen my jaw dropping.

I followed him out and headed straight for the campus’ cafeteria, all the while trying to converse here and there.

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

'Trying’ was not the right word.

Definitely not.

It was surprising, how easy and nice it was to talk to him. I could scent his apprehensiveness when I talked to him at first, but he relaxed not long after I introduced myself properly.

It felt... natural.

I learned that he came from the Northside of the country and moved to the city last year to pursue his dreams and to find a better future for his clan. I also told him about my family and home, along with my reasons for being here, leaving out the… violent part.

“My family and my entire clan wanted the best for me and my brothers. Up in the North, education is… very limited. Although ever since we were young, we were taught everything from our clan’s history, how to hunt for food, what herbs and plants were poisonous, what were medicinal and edible, how to stay alive, survive and so on.”

He paused for a moment before continuing.

“But we were cut off from the modern world. Times are changing, fast. Global warming being a major problem, leaving a huge impact on our living. So, when my clan heard about a school in the city, open to all races, they turned to us, the youth, and we took this chance.”

I looked down and thought about how disconnected the others were, only given the freedom to modern society eight years ago. Eight years is a long time, but I guess it’ll take more than that for everyone to get used to the change. That doesn’t mean they should treat them poorly!

As I realized I’ve been quiet for a while, I shot up and apologized for not replying.

“No, it’s okay. You looked like you were in deep thought. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Y-yeah… I was—”

“Thinking about how the majority of the human race still see us as beasts?”

There was a bit of spite in his voice, although barely noticeable. Or was it because I caught a whiff of it? No one was paying much attention to us while we were walking. But I noticed many of them hastily stepping aside and felt their glares at my back.

“How did you know?” I asked, curious.

“I could tell from your- I could tell, from the way you frowned earlier when one of those humans said something.”

Oh. He was looking at me that time?

“Frowned? But my mask—”

“It’s easy to tell if you are frowning when your eyebrows scrunch up like that. Believe me, my father does that a lot.”

“Ah. Well. It was just very rude of them. To talk shit about you and your kind like that, as if they were any better. You weren’t even doing anything, and they judge you based on your race. Orcs are civilized and intelligent just like any other, and I don’t understand why there’s still so much prejudice after eight damn years—”

I stopped and restrained the urge to go wild and curse every single human who smelled so foul every time we pass by.

“Sorry. I was...rambling.”

Was I this talkative? Maybe it's because I never had anyone to talk to.

He didn’t reply, which I found strange, so I glanced over at him and saw his eyes wide open and brows shooting up in surprise. It was almost comical.

“Uh, Tai'chi?”

Before he could even utter a word, we arrived at a huge hall where students were chatting and enjoying their lunch. Still, I noticed some humans were giving unkind looks to a gathering of goblins eating at the far left side corner of the cafeteria.

And of course, I didn’t fail to smell that wretched odor coming from a group of girls on my right when we walked in. I also recognized the one who pushed me, (No doubt it was intentional). I had to pinch my nose over my mask just but I could only block out half of it.

Ah shit, this mask doesn’t have proper air filtration.

I groaned as I tried to cut off the noise and thickened scents. For real, I wasn’t expecting it to be this harsh! I could literally smell discrimination and hate in the air!

Fuck. I should’ve worn my other mask. I swear I’m gonna burst if I stay and inhale more of that any longer—

“Pearl, are you okay?”

I groaned again and didn’t reply, busy controlling my sense of smell to even open my mouth. We were standing there like a pair of street posts, blocking a small part of the main entrance. That is if there was a 5ft- tall post. I’m more like that foldable caution sign.

“Pearl—”

“Hey, you there! Freaks! Move out of the way.”

Great. Another awful fucking odor. And what a coincidence! It was the one I smelled this morning!

“Are you deaf? I said—”

He shouldn’t have grabbed my shoulder, shouldn’t have tried to shove me aside, for the second I felt his hand reaching for me, and before Tai'chi could pull me away, my reflexes kicked in.

What did I do exactly? Oh, I simply grabbed that damned arm of his, threw him over my shoulder, and slammed him down on the tiled floor in front of me, finishing a one-arm shoulder throw.

The people in the area halted what they were doing and a short-lived silence came over, broken by whispers.

So much for keeping a low profile.

The guy I just performed basic self-defense on was spitting curse words at me. He was still on the floor, trying not to voice the pain in his back.

“Freak! You’re a monster, aren’t you?! How dare you do this to me. Don't you know who I am?!" he yelled.

Did he mean me or? Either way, what he said was not true.

I tried to calm my anger down and gave him a forced smile, under my mask, and mustered up the voice and tone I always used when I’m annoyed.

But right now, I am pissed.

“Now, dear, fellow, human, what you said was clearly untrue. I am entirely human and this person beside me is an orc. Or were you blinded by your overgrown ego and disgusting attitude to see the obvious in front of you? Surely that must be it. The entrance to the cafeteria is wide enough for two people to not serve as a hindrance to the ones coming in, but still, you chose to try and shove me aside yourself. Well, I won’t apologize but I’ve had enough pushing for one day. And lastly, no, I do not know you and I don’t care.”

I gritted my teeth, my face hurting from smiling forcefully. The cafeteria was quite silent enough all the while and no doubt they heard every word I said.

Fuck.

I twisted around and bolted out of the building.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! I blew it! Fucking blew my chance to have a normal college life! Now everyone will think I’m some crazy person and would, without a doubt, avoid me forever.

I was too busy cursing and walking away, planning to hide in a hole for all eternity that I didn’t feel the presence of someone following me.

Without thinking much of where I was heading, my feet led me to a secluded part of the uni. Tall trees lining up before and around me looking like an entrance to a forest, and so I tried hiding behind one. Hoping that the guards wouldn’t notice and detain me or something.

I sat down between the great roots of an oak tree and rested my head on top of my knees as I took deep breaths and listened.

Nature always had a place in my heart. How could it not? When you can hear the chirps of little birds, the soothing sound of leaves rustled by the wind. And the peace that comes with it all.

Not to mention it smells so relaxing.

“Hello there.”

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

Haha! What will Pearl do next I wonder, and who is this person who followed her??

Had to cut it off at that part because my dearest self just loves cliff hangers—

And because I wanted to post something as soon as possible.

Hope you enjoyed! I will be working on the third part asap.

Tags: @kokokatsworld @crackinanutshell

[harpersplay]

4x14 Thoughts

I touched on this before, but context fucking matters. Even though it erased Annie's class & Ruby's race while using Beth's momness and whiteness as a shield, the speech in 1x02 works because it's life and death. It works because these women have just been thrown into this scary world and Beth makes a desperate but savvy (she picks up on Rio being more than just a gangbanger and appeals to his business side) plea. She uses what she can (Annie has never brought orange slices to any game ever, let's be real) and saves the day. And yet we see how terrified she was even after it worked. IT WAS AN UNREAL SITUATION THAT FELT REAL. Beth's recent "boss bitch" moments do not work because it's just her fully leaning into the smug entitled white lady role. I feel like too many fans ignore 2x13-3x02. The threat of Rio (and the FBI) was GONE as far as Beth knew. But she decided to do crime. Ruby was stealing from her workplace. Beth was putting Dorothy and Lucy at legal risk by using her store and her work, respectively, to commit crimes without telling them. That's who Beth is. So reframing her actions in S3 & S4 as simply reactions to evil Rio trying to ruin her life not only removes Beth's agency. It is also hollow. Because Beth has zero problem with crime—stealing Gayle's business, bribing a city official, hiring a hitman, setting up an innocent man to be a murderer, making Dean "sell" a hot tub to Mick, selling counterfeit purses, blackmailing men into buying those purses. Beth has a problem with not getting her way. And that's not enjoyable to watch. This is not me saying Beth has to be likeable as in a "good" person. But she has to be likeable to watch. Mary Pat is a total weirdo with very questionable morality, but she's enjoyable to watch. Vance is fucking creepy as shit, but he's enjoyable to watch. And while the show gave both those characters some dimension, it never portrayed them as characters we should unabashedly cheer for. That's not how they write Beth. They still—four fucking seasons in—want us to see her as a mom just trying to survive. But that's not the story plotwise that they have chosen to write. And the fact that Beth's "wins" are almost always at the expense of other women or POC is an added gross factor.

The show needs to make up it's mind about the monetary situation. Either things are dire and they are saving every penny to "escape" to Nevada. Or they have enough money to refurbish Sweet P's and buy Kenny an iPad.

Detroit city council is by district. Why do they keep referencing Ward 5?

Nice of the show to have Dave & Phoebe literally walk thru the situation. Super FUN! that the women who have been in this for years (per date revealed in 4x13) still don't understand how it works. The only way I like this scene is if it is a meta commentary about how the majority of the show stans have never understood how any of the crime aspects work 🧐 And I see that the show is yet again ignoring Turner's whiteboard and everything else implied about Rio's business dealings in S1.

Phoebe's no Turner, but I've never disliked her. She was really good in this episode, but the Phoebe/Beth stuff from stans is annoying. Why are people so into ships where Beth is awful to the other person and yet the other person is willing to risk things for Beth? Wait...I think I answered my own question.

So much wasted time on these MRA guys. I guess they don't need to be ~mysterious~ and I love (I don't) the casual misogyny in all their scenes. Preemptive GTFOH: I know—believe me, more than I want to—that men like this exist. I know it is realistic. But, again, as I mentioned before, the show is more than happy to ignore all types of realism to make the story they want to tell work. So don't tell me that this is simply a reflection of society. Jenna & Co are choosing to write this storyline in this way and she thinks it is fun and comedic.

The show is about the 3 women and anyone asking for more screen time for Rio is a misogynist. One minute spent on Annie's new shitty white male love interest popping her pimple = crickets.

The show is about the 3 women and anyone asking for more screen time for Rio is a misogynist. Dean having the reasonable response to Beth running for city council while she dismisses his legitimate concerns = crickets.

And, btw, Denise doesn't need secret insider information. Even if Dean's police records are sealed—why tho?—the two extremely visible daytime raids on the family businesses would have been on the news. And—gag!—Beth's visit to Denise was hella stupid. Denise is not a criminal, like the girls were in S1, so she has no narrative reason not to call the cops on Beth & her "thug." It was a shallow parallel and just another example of Beth needing a man to handle things for her.

I mentioned in my 4x13 thoughts about how the Sweet P's "fun and empowering...unlikely feminist statement" is bullshit. The girls, specifically Ruby, spent a lot of time judging the dancers. Beth straight up mocked Krystal's voice. They didn't care about implicating them in crime or costing them their jobs when they set up Gene to take the fall for the money laundering. They only "care" now because they need them.

Annie & Nancy's scene would have been nicer if Annie didn't imply that Greg(g)'s cheating was Nancy's failure. Again, they could have had them talk about the cheating and difficulty that Nancy went through as an example of a hardship she overcame. But they CHOSE to have Nancy explicitly frame the business disaster as a personal failing. So having Annie respond with the infidelity doesn't come across as tough love. It comes across as needlessly callous and victim-blaming.

This is long already, so I'm not even going to get into the Beth & Rio conversation at Sweet P's.

Ugh, Rio & Nick. So fucking dumb. Where was Nick before all of this? Why is he flexing his muscle now? With what we've gotten of his characterisation & attitude, are we to believe that this is the first time in 20 years that Rio & Nick have clashed? I would think that he would have been very concerned and involved when Rio drew the attention of the FBI. But Nick was nowhere to be found. (Because these writers don't understand the difference between retconning and world expansion.) Although I did get a chuckle when Nick said, "You think you'd have any of this?" while gesturing to Rio's usually empty bar.

Yet again, no cameras in an area that would most likely have cameras. And white woman Beth implicating gangs (which to cops = Black & brown youth) with her "broken windows theory" scare tactic is disgusting.

Caribbean flair and Mahalo. I'm so goddamn exhausted at this point.

Hello, Random Bitch Wife. FUN!

Hey, speaking of context matters....that entire last scene Beth is actively working with Phoebe & Dave to send Rio to prison. Romance!!!

[autisticcassandracain]

Just finished Far Sector and GOD jesus FUCK is it good. Holy fucking shit. I truly hate how good this is. It’s not flawless and I do have issues with it (I felt like the plot was a bit too predictable and could be hard to follow sometimes, Jo’s military and cop backgrounds are not something that I’m fond of, and the fact that it came so close to making a true ACAB statement only to pussyfoot around it is INFURIATING), but god. The worldbuilding is the best I’ve encountered in DC comics, hands down. 

Far Sector takes great care to build the Enduring City as a believable place in a natural way. I really like the keh-Topli and @At; both of those felt like genuine alien species, with alien origins and practices, even if the keh-Topli were the species the series examined the least. The visit to Atville was a definite highlight for me, as well.

But where I think the worldbuilding really shone was the way it examined how a world would react to artificially having its emotions lock down. Emotionless species are something of a staple in sci-fi, and I think this is a great example of what you could do with it. Because the people in the Enduring City are not naturally emotionless; this is a state that was forced on them, and this had consequences.

It would’ve been really easy to make this a murder mystery with the gimmick being that people involved don’t have emotions and that murder is extremely uncommon on this planet, but Far Sector went further in exploring the possibilities inherent in its premise. As you’d expect, there’s a drug that lets you turn on your emotions called Switchoff, and for a lot of mediocre sci-fi, that’s where it’d stop. 

Far Sector doesn’t. It examines where the drug came from, how it’s used, and what its effects are on society. It expands on the concept of a black market for emotional goods, and dives into why the city would feel the need to have such a market in the first place. The detail that the @At are dependent on emotional stimuli to survive, because they ‘eat’ things like humor, was a genuine stroke of genius. Not only is it an interesting concept to have the AI race be the most dependent on emotion, it also realizes that such a dependency would but the species at a severe disadvantage in a society in which emotion is banned, resulting in systemic poverty and crime. It delves into this both in casual dialogue, and, more extensively, in its visit to Atville and the ‘meltdown’ during the referendum at the end of the series. This single detail is responsible for making so much of this world feel real and interesting, and I love it.

Also it’s the only comic I’ve ever read that managed to incorporate memes into its plot in a way that didn’t feel horribly awful. It’s a bit cheesy and sometimes it gets a bit too much but I actually like it and think it’s impressive they managed to make it anything less than a dumpster fire lmao. The fact that they chose memes that are heavily outdated even by current standards prevents the problem of this comic being dated on release, and also helps play up the comedy aspect because it’s inherently cringy to see those old memes, so I thought that was a smart move. Though I do think the inclusion of memes will limit how well it holds up in the future, so overall I think it would’ve been better not to include them, but DC Comics are as a whole not that concerned with timelessness, so I don’t think it’s a big issue.

This isn’t like, an in-depth analysis or anything, this is all first impression, I’m just ranting because it’s been a while since I enjoyed a comic this much.

[fallout-lou-begas]

Elevated Extras: Ranger Ghost Companion

You a Courier? If so, this might be your lucky day...if you don't mind walking a bit and your eyes are good. 

(Original sketch by @tarberrymentats / based on the OC Companion Meme by @falloutfandomeventhub / if you borrow this concept please tag it as #fallout elevated extras)

General

Name: Ranger Ghost

Location: Mojave Outpost

How to obtain: Complete the sidequest “Keep Your Eyes on the Prize,” then begin the sidequest “Giving Up the Ghost” to get her reassigned from the Mojave Outpost. Once freed of her assignment, she can travel with the Courier to monitor Legion activity throughout the Mojave.

Companion Quest: “Giving Up the Ghost.”

Ranger Ghost, like everyone else, is sick and tired of being stuck at the Mojave Outpost. Unfortunately, orders are orders. With the courier’s help, though, she just might be able to come down from that rooftop, but dealing with NCR bureaucracy might be a worse ordeal than Legion crucifixion.

Companion Wheel

I think we should travel together. You probably can’t tell, but that’d make me very happy. Let’s get the hell out of here.

Let’s talk about your tactics. Sure. Lecture the ranger on tactics. Go ahead. / What’re you thinking?

I want you to change your combat style. (humoring) Alright. / If you insist.

Use a melee weapon. Close combat, then. / Sure. We can hold their hands and tuck them in while we’re at it. / (Wild Wasteland Enabled) Try to remember the basics of CQC.

Use a ranged weapon. (stating the obvious) It’s what I do. / You going to spot for me? / (deeply sarcastic) Aww. Finally remembered I’m a ranger?

Be passive. Sure, give peace a chance. / Don’t go pacifist on me, now.

Be aggressive: Locked and loaded. / (mocking the company line) Right, and with “extreme prejudice.”

Enough about tactics. Agreed. Anything else? / Are we good, then?

Let’s talk about how close you’re following me. Is there a problem? / What are you...implying, exactly?

Wait here. Right. Things to do, places to be? / Holding down here. / I’ll keep watch here.

Follow me. Let’s roll out. / Finally. Don’t like waiting. / Right. Skip to my fucking lou.

Stay close to me. (sternly cautious) Define “close.” / Got it, on you. / Just don’t bump my gun.

Keep your distance. Positioning, got it. / Yeah, covering you. / (facetious concern) Don’t get lost, now.

Let’s trade equipment. Don’t get fucking handsy, now. / Just don’t hog the ammo.

(Overburdened). I’m not your fucking pack brahmin. / (exasperated) I’ve only got so many pockets.

(Sneaking). Staying low. / (wryly imperative) Quiet, now.

(In Courier’s iron sights). What the fuck is wrong with you? / (slowly, emphasizing) Watch your trigger discipline. / Don’t make me take that away.

(Courier lays mine). I’ve got my eyes on that. / You’d better have a plan for that.

It’s time for us to part ways. It’s because i’m a bitch, isn’t it. / Such sweet fucking sorrow, I bet.

I’d like you to go to the Lucky 38. Hm. Sending the Ghost to the haunted house. See you there. I’ll try not to spook the Securitrons.

We can meet again at the Mojave Outpost. (sucks teeth) Guess I’ll report what I’ve got back to headquarters. Hopefully by now they’ve got someone else watching the brahmins shit full-time.

Injured: (seething) SSShhit. / Didn’t want it like this. / (with conviction) I didn’t get off that roof just to fucking bite it.

Damaged Limb: (shout of pain) Fucker clipped me! / Sure could use a fucking medic.

Regaining Consciousness: What...what the hell happened? / (trailing off) Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck...

Death: (death rattle) / (weakly) Ghosts...can die, huh...ha...

Attributes

Aggression: Aggressive.

Confidence: Brave.

Assistance: Helps friends and allies.

Karma: Neutral.

Perks

Ghost of a Chance: When Ranger Ghost is by your side, so are the odds. In addition to gaining an extra 3% chance to critically hit, any single attack that would kill you may instead leave you just barely alive and invulnerable for a brief moment..

Drops, if killed

Ranger Vest Outfit

Ranger Grey Hat

Authority Glasses

Cowboy Repeater

Combat Knife

Iguana Bits

Grognak the Barbarian

Dialogue, Quest Details, and Ending Slides:

Dialogue

Why do they call you Ghost? What, don’t I scare you? Boo? Nothing? (beat) Well, if you gotta know, it stuck pretty quick back in basic. Not like there were many other albinos in boot camp. The all-white spooky bitch who shoots better at night? Yeah, that’s a ghost, alright. Pissed me off at first, but I came around when it started giving privates the heebie-jeebies. Just a little kick, is all.

What’s an albino? Albinism is a pigment disorder. You know, the color of your skin and hair? As in I don’t have color. Pale as a sheet.

[Medicine 35] A sharpshooter with albinism? Isn’t your vision affected? Done your homework, huh? Well, these big, bad sunglasses aren’t just for intimidation, doc. They only come off when I sleep. Sucks enough being photosensitive in the goddamn desert, but like I said. I’m a lot better at night.

What’s your real name? (the thousandth time she’s answered this exact question) If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.

Aw, come on. Curiosity killed the courier. Don’t push it.

[Speech 40] I’m just trying to understand my partner better. Then “understand” that I don’t owe you shit except loyalty. Just call me Ghost, and you’ll get that.

[Cherchez La Femme] Surely you’ve got a name to match that lovely personality. (flustered) Are you d-...I-...Yeah, I do.But you can just keep calling me Ghost. (quietly) For...for now.

What’s the deal with Ranger Jackson? Man hasn’t got a thought in his fucking head...which is why he’s such a good C.O., from the top down. He’s a nice enough guy on a good day. He’s...principled, for sure. But the man wouldn’t budge on an order from brass if it’d save his life. Stranded caravaneers get so bored and restless because of the impasse he’s overseeing that he’s started (excessive emphasis) “hiring” the rowdier ones for odd jobs off the grounds, which is why we’ve been “losing” supplies for a while. Gets shit done, I guess, but wish he’d show half that drive when bitching to HQ, but no. They tell him to sit tight, he says yes sir, and then he takes it out on us when we get frustrated at the frustrating bullshit.

Do you know Major Knight? (standoffish) Yeah. Good guy. Known him a while. Hell, he’s been at M.O. longer than I have.

What does he do? Repairs, mostly. With all the caravans backed up, we sort of have a monopoly on maintenance and upkeep. And believe me, he does damn fine work.

[Confirmed Bachelor] Is he...you know…? Is he...oh. Between you and me? Yeah. He and I are...alike. I mean, I’m the bitch everybody hates, so I don’t really give a shit, but beneath that…(thinking how best to describe him, ribbing him a bit)...accountant exterior of his, he’s really the soft, sensitive type. Needs someone to talk to sometimes. I’m that someone, sometimes, but if you get the chance...it’d do him good just to know he’s not that alone out here.

How can I best use your skills? Hard to find a way that’d be worse than all the wasted time at M.O., but I’ll make it easy for you: give me a target and let me shoot it. If it’s too close to shoot, I’m trained in hand-to-hand, and if it’s too far to shoot, it’ll never see me coming. Standard repertoire for a ranger.

What’s your opinion on the NCR? High enough to keep me enlisted, low enough to where I’ve got plenty to mock. We’re a good country, a damn good country. We’re the only real country actually left in the West. We’d be the best thing to ever crawl out of the bombed-out ruins of this war if it weren’t for all the bureaucratic bullshit, and the brass getting duller the higher you go. It’s all just song and dance and sloganeering to them out here. Whatever looks good on paper. They don’t give a shit what really happens to people out here, and if Caesar doesn’t kill us, that might. At least on the inside.

What’s it like being a ranger? Ranger training is the best, most brutal gauntlet this side of the Colorado. Hours and hours of days and days spent shooting, drilling, fighting, bringing the body to its breaking points, pouring blood and sweat just to get an inch past the wide-eye hopefuls who were always going to just wash out...and all of it just to stand on a fucking rooftop staring at ants and malnourished raiders on the interstate. I swear, if you gave headquarters a golden egg, they’d fucking cook it.

Were you at the battle of Hoover Dam? Was going to be, but believe it or not, I sat out sick. Got the fucking flu right before and was stuck at McCarran the whole time, half-lucid. Let me tell you, the whole tent of coughs and sneezes crowding around that radio, listening to the reports...when Hanlon ordered that retreat out of Boulder City, we were grabbing our rifles and getting ready to march out on foot, even if we could barely stand. We thought that was it. Of course, it wasn’t, and we cheered so loud when they radioed about the explosion that I hope Caesar damn well heard it.

Do you wish that you had been there? Of course I do. If I miss the next one because I’m stuck at the Outpost or some shit, I’m deserting with a dozen fed-up caravaneers to flank his fucking fort myself, if only for some goddamn excitement.

How do you feel about the Legion? Love ‘em. Joined the NCR because I just wanted to meet them that bad. Their new Legate’s such a heartthrob, I hear.

You’re not serious. (sucks teeth, deep sigh) Look. You saw Nipton. It was just a taste of what they do. I’ve seen good men die on crosses, and that’s a mercy compared to the good women. I hear when women sign up now, they get about five extra “are you sures?” from recruiters. Not officially, of course. Brass would never let people back home know how bad it is. But it’s just another thing that makes me glad I’m a sniper, sometimes. Engage at range. Out of reach.

What about Legion society? Do you know anything about life across the river? There’s nothing across that river. Nothing. (beat, pondering) Do you remember the Enclave War? Bitter, bloody, big explosion at Navarro? And the Brotherhood campaign out here? Even worse of a shitshow, but still, we won that out, too. But the Enclave and the Brotherhood at least stood for something. They were societies, or at least promises of one, and if things had shaken out the other way for the NCR at least something would still be standing here. The Legion isn’t like that. They aren’t “something.” They’re one big razor across Arizona, shaving everything down. And if we don’t stop them here, we never will.

What about their Legate? (with contempt) Lanius, “The Monster of the East.” Caesar must’ve plucked him out of hell or something after his first legate blew it at Hoover Dam. Word from recon is that the only reason we’re all still twiddling our thumbs there is that he’s out making friends for Caesar someplace, and he’ll be bringing them all back for a whole ‘nother goddamn jamboree soon. (tension broken by a funny thought; spoken dryly) Or should I say a Damboree. Since it’d be at the Dam.

Do you know anything about Mr. House? No. Closest I’ve ever been to the Strip has been McCarran, where I was too proud to get wasted on expensive booze in the casinos. As punishment, I got stuck with nothing to do but get shitfaced on cheap booze at the outpost. All I know is Mr. House runs the whole Strip himself, and there’s one casino, the Lucky 36 or something, that’s supposed to be all his. No one’s allowed in, no one’s ever come out. Frankly? Just strikes me as fucking weird.

Companion Quest: Giving Up the Ghost

After completing the sidequest “Eyes On the Prize” (in which the Courier checks Nipton for survivors), Ghost will remark that the Mojave’s going to hell, and all she can do is sit and watch. The Courier will reply that she ought to stop watching and travel with them, to which she’ll respond that her orders are absolute—but if the courier can change her orders somehow, she’d be indebted. The quest then begins.

= = = Stage 1: Deal with Jackson = = =

First, the Courier must speak to Ranger Jackson and convince him to consider Ghost’s reassignment. They can do this through the following dialogue options:

[Speech 80] This outpost is just waiting to be overrun by Legion. You’ll be the next Nipton unless you’re proactive.

[Speech 55; completed “Can’t You Find It In Your Heart” beforehand] Maybe I could tell your superiors about where I “found” these “lost” supplies, then.

[Barter 80] Ghost is an exceptional asset to the rangers. Stationing her here is a waste of valuable NCR resources.

[NCR Fame] There’s work to be done for the NCR out there, and Ghost is who I trust to do it with me.

[Black Widow] I’ve ways of making men come around...especially handsome men in uniform. (The Courier must then sleep with Ranger Jackson)

Note that the Courier can not simply complete the quest “Can’t You Find It In Your Heart?” as a favor to Jackson for Ghost’s reassignment. While he’ll let a caravaneer go, it’ll take more than clearing some ants from the road to get him to compromise his standing force and let go of a ranger. 

Alternatively, Jackson’s death will advance the quest.

Kill Jackson. Similar to Cass’ companion quest, Jackson can simply be killed. However, Ghost is far less sympathetic to this course of action and will confront the Courier over the murder. If Jackson is simply killed, the Courier will either need a convincing alibi [Speech 90] to argue that they weren’t responsible or admit to the murder. If the Courier fails the Speech check or admits to the murder, Ghost will turn hostile (“Maybe you didn’t fucking think this through, but do you know what we call someone who kills an NCR ranger? An enemy of the NCR rangers. Now, eat shit.”). Alternatively, the Courier can intimidate Ghost into silence with a [Terrifying Presence] option, after which a shaken but seething Ghost will simply ask the Courier to leave the outpost and never come back. Passing the Speech check is the way to not fail the quest from this option.

Kill Jackson and frame Cass. If the Courier kills Jackson themself, attempting to loot Jackson’s body will trigger a message suggesting that they could frame Cass for the murder by splashing whiskey on the body (so long as Cass is not currently the player’s companion and is currently at the Mojave Outpost, not the Lucky 38). By adding a whiskey bottle to Jackson’s body without themself or the body being discovered in the meantime, they can successfully implicate Cass for the murder, and explain as much to Ghost. She’ll buy it, since Cass was one of the most frustrated residents of the outpost and was drunk almost all the time. Cass will then disappear from the game, and if Lacey, Major Knight, or Ghost (if the Courier left the outpost before speaking to her again) are asked, they will explain that Cass was arrested by the NCR.

Have someone else kill Jackson. A desperate, fed-up caravaneer named Paul by the brahmin pens is willing to kill Jackson for 5,500 caps. This price can be negotiated down to 4,000 with a [Barter 60] check, and 3,500 with [Barter 75]. At midnight that night, Paul will attempt to sneakily kill Jackson. Alternatively, Paul can be incensed into attacking Jackson immediately and for free with a [Hot Blooded] trait check. In either case, though, there is no guarantee that Paul will succeed, and if Paul is killed then the Courier must advance the quest another way (though they can loot their spent caps from Paul’s body). When spoken to afterwards, Ghost will remark that she saw the Courier speaking to Paul and ask if they had anything to do with it. By passing a [Speech 50] check, the Courier can convincingly lie that they were trying to talk him out of it. With either the [Black Widow] or [Cherchez la Femme] perks, the Courier can lie and say that Paul very foolishly did it to try to impress them. With [Low Intelligence] the Courier can earnestly say that they thought “taking care” of Jackson meant doing something nice for him.

Somehow allow Jackson to die. If Jackson just somehow dies in an unaccounted way, such as from a spawned-in deathclaw eviscerating him in his own office, Ghost will remark on the strangeness of the situation but won’t blame the Courier. This is a failsafe option to prevent quest breakage.

= = = Stage 2: Find a Replacement = = =

If Jackson is alive, he’ll agree with the Courier that he ought to let Ghost go, but he’s still under orders to maintain a standing force at Mojave—a standing force which includes a highly trained sniper. If Jackson has been killed, Ghost will mention that Major Knight is next in command and would be glad to give her clearance, but that he won’t be able to do so without a replacement sniper, either. Either way, the Courier is tasked with finding a suitable replacement. The Courier can ask her for advice:

Who should I look for to be your replacement? They have to be NCR, obviously. Ex-NCR might work, too, so long as they’re in good standing. Any Dick or Jane off the road is a no-go, since brass put the kibosh on officially contracting mercenaries. Oh, and anyone you get would have to be well-trained. Not necessarily a ranger, but good enough to replace one, even for a sit-on-the-shitter job like this. Only the best and brightest get to stare at this fucking road all day, apparently.

Where should I look for your replacement? If you checked out some of the ranger stations around the Mojave, they might be able to move some people around. Hell, take it all the way to McCarran if you want, or with Hanlon. If you’re going to give them shit on my behalf, by all means, go nuts. A lot of higher-ups can be greased with enough favors, anyway. Whoever you get just needs the right credentials. Legion attacks get dragged asses and twiddled thumbs, sure, but bad paperwork would set a goddamn fire at headquarters.

The following characters can be recruited as the Mojave Outpost’s new watch:

A generic ranger. By speaking to the commanding officers of at least three of the NCR ranger camps across the Mojave with sufficient [NCR Fame], the Courier can speak to Chief Hanlon to arrange for Ghost’s replacement with a generic ranger. This option is impossible if “Return to Sender” has already been completed.

Craig Boone. If the Courier has completed “I Forgot to Remember to Forget” in a way that makes Boone repentant over his past, he can be persuaded to take over Ghost’s position as a good way to put his skills to use. Otherwise, he will refuse, either preferring to stay in Novac where he lived with Carla or not wanting to be stuck as a watchman again when he could be out killing Legionnaires. If selected, Boone’s home marker will change from Novac to the Mojave Outpost.

Manny Vargas. Novac’s other sniper can be convinced to take up Ghost’s post, but only if the Courier has completed “One For My Baby,” “Come Fly With Me,” and eradicated the Legion presence from Nelson. Once convinced that Novac seems safe, for now, he’ll be willing to reenlist if paid a generous salary. The Courier can either pay Manny 5,000 caps to reenlist now, pass a [Barter 65] check to explain that it’s a provisional reenlistment and reduce their bribe to 3,000, or if the Courier has already passed the [Confirmed Bachelor] check in dialogue with Knight, they can tell Manny about the cute little major sitting behind the desk all day there by his lonesome. Once convinced, Manny will relocate to the Mojave Outpost and take Ghost’s place.

Bryce Anders. This keen-eyed ranger can be recruited to Ghost’s position if he is rescued from the Vault 3 Fiends by the Courier. Once spoken with in Camp McCarran, the Courier can explain that the Mojave Outpost needs a new ranger stationed there. He will defer to Colonel Hsu’s authority on reassignments, and with a successful [Speech 60], [Medicine 40], or [NCR Fame] check, Hsu will agree to the reassignment on the grounds that it’s a useful position still sedentary enough to not complicate the ranger’s recovery.

Little Buster. The listless bounty hunter at Camp McCarran is looking for another career path and would be willing to take over Ghost’s do-nothing position. However, the only way to recruit him is to fabricate both credentials and enlistment records by either stealing personnel files from either Colonel Hsu’s office at Camp McCarran or from the filing cabinets at Camp Golf, or speaking to Daniel Contreras, who “knows a guy” who’ll take care of it if the Courier has already acquired access to Contreras' expanded inventory by siding with him in the unmarked quest “Dealing with Contreras.”

Private Halford. The sole survivor of Camp Guardian mentions that he wants to head back home through Mojave Outpost after being rescued from the mirelurk caves, at which point the Courier can mention no one is allowed to leave through there, and ask if he’d like to take Ghost’s position there instead. At first he’ll refuse, but with a [Speech 45] or [NCR Fame] check he can be convinced that a quiet, do-nothing watch assignment would be a lot better than anything else after what happened at Camp Guardian, to which he’ll agree. He will also relocate to the Mojave Outpost after being freed anyway, getting stuck like everyone else so that the speech check can be re-attempted. However, Halford isn’t considered well-trained enough for a ranger’s job. The Courier must speak to Jackson (or Knight, if Jackson is dead) and pass a [Speech 80] or [NCR Fame] check to make a strong endorsement, or a [Survival 55] check to explain how impressive it is that he survived an attack from so many mirelurks. Alternatively, the Courier can fabricate impressive enough credentials through the options required to assign Little Buster.

Once Ghost’s replacement has been assigned to the Mojave Outpost, the Courier only needs to speak to Ghost again. She will explain that she’s been “reassigned” to open patrol across the Mojave, ostensibly to track Legion activity, so long as she does so with the Courier. She also gains an additional dialogue option dependent on your choice of replacement:

What do you think of your replacement?

(Generic ranger) For this job? Any ranger’s as wasted as any other. I almost feel bad, I doubt she’ll like that fucking roof any more than I did...almost feel bad. Doesn’t quite cancel out the relief.

(Boone) First recon is one hell of a pull. Took right to it, too, like he was already used to it. Strikes me as the...quiet, contemplative type. Likes to think. Not much else to do up there, anyway. I bet those brahmin pins have never felt safer.

(Manny) First recon is one hell of a pull. Took right to it, too, like he was already used to it. Seems like a nice enough guy, and seems to be getting along with Major Knight. Hell, you love to see it.

(Bryce) A good man. Heard about what the Fiends did to him, and after all that, he certainly deserves a break. Didn’t think of this shit job as much of a vacation before, but seems like it’ll do him good.

(Buster) Not sure where the hell you found this guy, but if (Jackson / Knight) gave the okay, then...okay. I would’ve put a goddamn brahmin in a beret up there if it could have gotten me another assignment.

(Halford) The mirelurk guy? Yeah, he seems alright. I’ve never actually seen a mirelurk, but after hearing his story, I don’t think I want to. I didn’t even know we had a camp that far up there.

Speaking to Ghost after her replacement takes her position completes the quest, and from then on, she can now be recruited as a companion. However, similar to Boone, she will only remain the Courier’s companion if they maintain good reputation with the NCR, and as an active-duty ranger, her intolerance for anti-NCR actions is even more strict.

Ending Slides

If "Giving Up the Ghost” is started, but never completed:

NCR Victory. Ranger Ghost remained at Mojave Outpost, dutifully, thanklessly, and restlessly. When the rangers there received word that the Legion had made their move on the dam, the entire outpost went silent. Waiting. From her rooftop perch, at least she was the first to see the bearer of good news come up the road. In the moment, at least, it was worth everything to be there.

Legion, House, or Independent Victory. Ranger Ghost remained at Mojave Outpost, dutifully, thanklessly, and restlessly. When the rangers there received word that the Legion had made their move on the dam, the entire outpost went silent. Waiting. From her rooftop perch, she was the first to see the NCR’s retreat, as civilians and troopers alike began fleeing through the Long 15. She was right: this whole time, all she could do was watch.

Ghost is dead. Ghost, bitterly, died as she lived...(deep sigh) at the Mojave fucking Outpost.

If “Giving Up the Ghost” is completed:

NCR Victory: When legionnaires by the score descended upon Hoover Dam, Ghost was proud to have been one of the many rangers in the battle that kicked their shit in back across the Colorado. She celebrated with the rest of them, even a smile creeping onto her face every now and then. Still, Ghost returned to business before long, as part of a squad out East tracking down the straggling remnants of Caesar’s retreating Legion.

Legion Victory: Ghost was among the many rangers who fought at Hoover Dam, but when the army of legionnaires led by the Courier, to whom she owed her very presence there, proved unstoppable, she was ultimately among its many casualties. Their advance was too sudden, too overwhelming, for a clean evacuation, and a grisly duel with a centurion trapped her near the front. Still, the Legion never took Ghost alive. She made sure of it.

House or Independent Victory: The arrival of the Securitrons at Hoover Dam was a surprise to every NCR trooper stationed there, including Ghost. Their sudden turn against the NCR, and their allegiance to the Courier, even more so. The triumph of vanquishing the Legion was short-lived, then, as Ghost joined the forced retreat, one pale face in a sea of many. 

Ghost is dead: Despite her name, there was no supernatural flourish when Ghost died. She simply died like a ranger, fighting to the end. That’s all that mattered.

(Bonus) Cass’s Ending Slide if the Courier frames her for the murder of Jackson:

Rose of Sharon Cassidy spent all of her time at the Mojave Outpost in a drunken stupor, which is why when Major Knight oversaw her arrest for the murder of Ranger Jackson, it took so long to get exonerated. By the time the alibi was pieced together and the evidence was admitted as circumstantial, the battle of Hoover Dam shifted NCR’s attention elsewhere, and the crime was never solved. For a few months in the clink, though, at least Cass got what she wanted: home, and finally away from the outpost.

[rowaning]

The Complete Fiction of HP Lovecraft rated by me, someone who read them all* but has a terrible memory

The Beast in The Cave: uh a guy goes on a cave tour and finds a creature that was like a human that got lost and adapted to its surroundings. 0/10 just because im pretty sure there was another one with this exact premise and neither of them were memorable at all.

The Alchemist: dude achieves immortality and lives in the narrators basement and has pledged to murder his entire lineage or something. 4/10 the alchemy stuff was actually kind of interesting

The Tomb: im pretty sure this is the one where a guy starts hanging out in a tomb and like travels back in time/becomes one of his ancestors? 5/10 if its the one im thinking of i did enjoy reading it

Dagon: guy lands on a mysterious island with signs of a long dead civilization. 1/10 i do not remember what happened in it

A Reminiscence of Dr. Samuel Johnson: 0/10 i have no memory of this

Polaris: also 0/10 i forgot all about it

Beyond the Wall of Sleep: could be any of the dream focused ones. if its the one about the dude sailing into the void or whatever than 4/10 not too bad

Memory: ironically, i dont remember it. 0/10

Old Bugs: 1/10 for the title god i wish i remembered this one

The Transition of Juan Romero: i got nothing. 0/10

The White Ship: this might also be the one about the dude sailing into the void? i liked that one he lived in a lighthouse and boarded a dream ship and just fucking left it was fun. 4/10

The Street: uh i think really steep street that didnt actually exist. 3/10

The Doom that Came to Sarnath: i wanna say another one of the dream centered ones where a town discovers some old relics and blatantly disrespects them and gets exactly whats coming to it. 5/10 they deserved what they got

The Statement of Randolph Carter: ok this dude shows up several times. i think this one is about how he returns to his childhood home then travels back in time and creates a time loop paradox thing. 1/10 meh

The Terrible Old Man: uh some thieves harrass a weird old guy and get got. 5/10

The Cats of Ulthar: someone is mean to a cat in a dream city, all of the rest of the cats get revenge and are revered for the rest of time. 2/10 (-3 because lovecraft has a specific name he gives to apparently every fictional and real cat he encounters and wow i wish he hadn't)

The Tree: i feel like this is something to do with a person becoming a tree but i cant actually remember. 0/10

Celephais: yeah no i got nothing 0/10

The Picture in the House: also nothing 0/10

The Temple: nope 0/10

Facts Concerning the Late Arthur Jermyn and his Family: is this the one where the dude's great grandfather married an ape? i dont think so but im not sure. 0/10, -5/10 if it is that one cause that one was especially shitty

From Beyond: nope 0/10

Nyarlathotep: charismatic dude shows up and is like get in bitches we're going to the void. i love nyarlathotep cause hes the one who directly interacts with humanity and like wears a human suit or whatever so hes just some dude whos like hey im gonna feed you to azathoth 5/0

The Quest of Iranon: got nothing 0/10

The Music of Erich Zann: narrator makes friends with an old musician whos being hunted by supernatural forces. 2/10 because i remember it but it was just ok

Ex Oblivione: 1/10 for the title but i have no clue what it was about

Sweet Ermengarde: lovecraft's sole attempt at comedy. not to my taste like at all 0/10

The Nameless city: nope 0/10

The Outsider: also nope 0/10

The Moon-Bog: sounds cool, dont remember it. 0/10

The Other Gods: dude tries to find the gods of humanity where they live on a big mountain, actually finds them, is immediately smited by the Other Gods who protect the gods of humanity. 3/10 he deserved it

Azathoth: dont recall, 0/10

Herbert West- Reanimator: Arkham man Herbert West and his assistant ressurect the dead with little thought to the consequences, then get murdered by a band of said resurrected dead. 5/10

Hypnos: nope 0/10

What the Moon Brings: also nope 0/10

The Hound: still nope 0/10

The Lurking Fear: again, nope 0/10

The Rats in the Walls: dude returns to his ancestral home, hears rats, excavates the basement and finds out that his ancestors ate human flesh, eats his friend. 1/10 it was an interesting read but can lovecraft please stop calling cats that.

The Unnameable: no clue 0/10

The Festival: nope 0/10

*Under the Pyramids: ok im pretty sure this is the one with houdini which is the only one i could not read. i went into this mentally prepared for lovecraft's bigotry but i was not mentally prepared for him dropping harry houdini, avid skeptic who absolutely would have beat the shit out of him for this, into the middle of his super racist paranormal horror. -1000/10

The Shunned House: nope 0/10

The Horror at Red Hook: also nope 0/10

He: cool title, no memory of the story. 0/10

In the Vault: wow im bad at this. 0/10

Cool Air: still no 0/10

The Call of Cthulhu: kind of all over the place, there was a thing about artists and then a thing about a cop investigating a cult. 3/10 meh but ill give it a bonus for being a staple of horror fiction.

Pickman's Model: uh artist sees some wild shit and draws it and then it eats him. 2/10 i forget the details

The Strange High House in the Mist: if this is the one im thinking of, dude does a dangerous climb to find a mysterious house and meet the inhabitant who is kind of interdimensional and also being hunted by interdimensional things. also maybe the house eats people? 2/10

The Silver Key: another Randolph Carter one, and i think this is actually the one about him travelling back in time so idk what the other one was. 3/10

The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath: randolph carter goes on a quest in the dream world to find the gods of humanity and ask why they wont let him check out this cool city he can see from his window. lots of action and very wordy and went a lot of different places. 4/10 good read but extremely xenophobic

The Case of Charles Dexter Ward: guy investigates his ancestor who looks disturbingly like him, ancestor comes back to life and kills him and takes his place and a bunch of other stuff happens. mostly a dramatized genealogical study. 3/10 not bad, very suspenseful

The Colour Out Of Space: meteor lands on a farm, scientists get weirded out by it, everything in the area gets weird then dead, alien thing gets enough power from draining nearby life-forms to escape earth. fun twist ending. 4/10 bonus for being one of the better ones, detraction for writing out a 'rural accent'

The Descendant: nope, 0/10

The Very Old Folk: nope again, 0/10

History of the Necronomicon: very dry. fake history of lovecraft's fake book thats super important to a lot of the stories. 0/10

The Dunwich Horror: isolated witchy family has a kid who no one likes that grows up real fast. graphic descriptions of renovation. a horror gets unleashed on the area and the local folklore scholars have to deal with it. 1/10 nothing good enough to counter the xenophobia

Ibid: i remember this one. no idea what it's deal was. pseudo-bibliography? it was weird. 0/10

The Whisperer in Darkness: guy has a correspondance with another guy about local folk legends based on evil crab things. other guy gets straight up replaced by an evil crab thing and first guy doesnt even notice. imagine if you followed up on a scam email and didnt realize anything was up until you saw that the face of the dude you were talking to in person was a mask. 4/10 for the comedy this guy would not last in the internet age at all

At The Mountains of Madness: guy whines about penguins and how awful it would be if there were civilizations that predated humanity. also commits grave desecration. i get hit by the realization that if lovecraft was less of a racist coward he wouldve made a great speculative sci fi author. 3/10 i would love to watch that old asshole get absolutely torn to shreds by the monster fucker community

The Shadow over Innsmouth: Fish People! Leave Them Alone! Or Else! 5/10 the protagonist gets to live the dream by escaping human society and becoming an immortal fish person

The Dreams in the Witch House: dude rents an objectively haunted room, doesnt listen to people trying to help him, gets murdered by a weird rat. later they find a shit ton of bones in the attic. 2/10 meh

Through The Gates of the Silver Key: Randolph Carter transcends time and space, then de-transcends time and space and immediately gets stuck on another planet in the distant past, makes a long and difficult journey back to earth to find that his estate is being divided amongst his heirs. the comedy potential of a man stuck in an alien body dealing with a legal system that has declared him dead is not examined. 2/10

The Thing on the Doorstep: narrator's good friend marries a fish person witch who steals his body. thats basically it. 3/10. at this point im like wow these narrators really refuse to believe the heavily foreshadowed supernatural explanations that turn out to be correct huh.

The Evil Clergyman: dude is in a room. some ghosts (?) show up. dude has a UV light for some reason. Gets his face stolen i guess and just has to live with it. 5/10 for being absolutely buck wild and refusing to explain anything

The Book: nope 0/10

The Shadow Out Of Time: dude gets his body stolen by ancient scholar species. agonizes about it for a while. finds archaeological evidence of said species. finds a book he wrote while living with said species. almost gets eaten by something. 3/10 more cool speculative sci fi but lame protagonist

The Haunter of the Dark: you'd think id remember it bc this was the last one and i read it last night. oh wait, nvm i do remember it. dude finds an old box in a run down culty church and unleashes a horror that then comes and fucks him up. 1/10 meh.

[eryiss]

Chapter Seven - The Shutdown

Summary: Freed and Laxus live incredibly different lives. Freed is a corporate lawyer in the capital city, and Laxus works as a handyman in a countryside hotel. Despite their differences, their lives collide when Freed inherits a house in Laxus’ village, and hires him to make the derelict building liveable. But the closer they get, the more they seem to offer each other. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter]

This was written as my admission for Fraxus Day 2020, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus​. There's descriptions of emotional repression in this chapter, so be aware of that. Hope you enjoy it.

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. You can find the chapter masterpost here.

Chapter Seven – The Shutdown

This was pathetic, and Freed knew it.

He was a grown man. He was a lawyer. He was a well-respected member of society who had earned his place on multiple occasions. And yet, apparently, this was what he had resorted to. Switching off his phone while glaring at it, locking himself in his apartment, and refusing to speak to anyone who might want to talk. He had shut himself off completely, like a fucking teenager who didn't know how to handle his emotions.

Which, other than him not being a teenager, was accurate. Because all of this ridiculous behaviour that Freed hated himself for doing – that he couldn't stop himself from doing – was all because he didn't know what to do about what he was feeling.

And he was feeling. He was feeling a lot.

It was something that only added to his annoyance because Freed wasn't an overly emotional person. He was pragmatic, and allowed his feelings to be put to the side to focus on greater tasks. He'd lived his entire life that way, and had done so to great success and happiness, and yet now he felt as though he was fucking drowning in these feelings. In the feelings that he couldn't quantify or push to the side or ignore. And the pure amount of them, the ferocity with which they had hit him, and range of different feelings was just so awful. He couldn't deal with it.

So, he did what he always did when he was overwhelmed. It didn't happen often, and usually only when he was taking on a case that was more troublesome than he had expected, but he had techniques in place that usually helped. He wrote a list of everything that was overwhelming him.

Confusion – He had always lived in Era, and his life resolved around the city. It was confusing to feel so drawn to Magnolia, a place so contrasting to what he knew.

Annoyance – He knew that he wanted Magnolia to be a larger part of his life, but wouldn't say it out loud. His pride was getting in the way, but he couldn't push past it to be honest about his wants.

Anger – He should have spoken to Laxus. He shouldn't have let him go after… what had happened. Because they hadn't spoken since Laxus had left, two weeks ago. And he missed him, more than he could admit to himself. He missed him so much.

Anger – Because he shouldn't have goaded Laxus into a flirtatious competition.

Anger – Because he shouldn't have left the house and gone to the carnival to see Laxus.

Anger – Because he shouldn't have gotten allowed his stupid crush to become more than that.

Anger – Because he shouldn't have let Laxus be anything other than a workman to him.

Anger – Because why couldn't he speak his goddamn mind when it came what he was feeling?

He sighed, slamming his pen onto his desk, and rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand. He looked down at the list with an annoyed expression because it had done exactly what it was meant to do. It had highlighted the greater problem that was worrying Freed, and it was all very clear as to what was actually troubling him. As he always did after finishing a list, he wrote a final point to clarify what was actually happening, and he sighed at his own words.

Attraction – He was drawn to Laxus in a way that he couldn't control. He didn't know what to do with this attraction, but he couldn't stop it. It felt like he was trapped by it.

And for Freed, a man whose emotions had never been an issue, it was concerning.

Worse still, a lot of their time spent together seemed to be cast in a new light now. All of Freed's insistence that Laxus teach him new skills, perhaps that was just a way to get closer to him more often. Their shared meal and the private revelations of their childhoods, maybe that was how Freed was making his relationship with Laxus more personal. The time they spent at the carnival, before the incident after the dunk tank, might have been Freed getting a date from Laxus without even knowing it.

It all made Freed feel rather sick.

One worrisome thought was that he might have manipulated Laxus into friendship unknowingly. But Laxus wasn't that good of an actor, and he seemed to genuinely like Freed. Though that could be because Freed was his boss, and he wanted to get a good reference at the end of their working relationship.

A sharp nocking sound echoed through Freed's empty apartment, cutting off that thought.

He didn't move to answer it, of course. With seemingly a million and one random and predominantly negative thoughts hitting him every second, he wasn't in the mood to greet visitors. The idea of pretending to be happy sounded exhausting, and Freed would much rather gather his thoughts on his own. Though, in reality he would probably try and fail to gather his thoughts, only to be angry at himself for failing, and he'd end up sleeping while enraged.

"If you are not dead in there, I will kill you!" Evergreen yelled, slamming the door again.

"That means she's worried," Another voice followed, lighter sounding than Evergreen's. Bickslow. "But also kinda murderous, so open the door."

Freed sighed, moving from his desk and walking towards the door. Out of everyone he knew, Freed would feel the least amount of guilt for not being polite and engaged with the two of them. And it was entirely possible that if Freed didn't open the door quickly, Evergreen would take it off its hinges. He didn't even know how they'd gotten into the building without having him buzz the door open.

When he opened it, he felt a small flush of guilt overtake him. Bickslow, who was normally grinning wider than Freed thought possible, had a concerned expression. Evergreen was hovering between anger and worry. Freed almost didn't understand the expression, but Evergreen made it easy for him.

By punching him in the chest, then hugging him.

"Motherfucker," She grunted into Freed's chest, and he looked down at her with a frown. He considered speaking, but thought against it. "I was worried about you."

"Why?"

"Because you've been missing for like four days, man," Bickslow said as he walked into Freed's apartment and closed the door; apparently they were staying. "You wouldn't answer your phone or any emails. Normally it feels like you reply to things before we manage to send them," He shrugged. "We wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Well," Freed said slowly. "I am."

"Then I can punch you again," Evergreen grunted, removing herself from Freed's body and slamming her fist into his arm. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Freed turned and walked back to his desk. "You know I'm okay, so is there anything else you need?"

Freed knew his friends well, and even though he had turned his back away from them, he knew they'd be exchanging looks in place of a conversation, and it annoyed Freed when his suspicions were confirmed in the window's reflection. He understood that they were worried, and he understood that they were probably angry at him for how he was acting now that they knew he was okay, but they could at least be subtle.

And why were they treating him like a child? He had known and worked with them both for years, and surely he'd proven himself to be a capable adult hundreds of times by now. For heavens sake, when they'd all been in the same office, Freed had always been the project manager. Self-appointed too. But apparently wanting some time alone meant the respect that he had earned had completely gone, and instead had been replaced by a patronising level of care from his friends. His friends who had barged their way into his house uninvited, and were now clearly talking about him behind his back, expecting him to be okay with it.

"I'd like to be left alone," Freed stated, turning to face his friends again. "So if you're going to act like I'm not here, then you might as well leave."

"Come on Freed," Bickslow sighed, and Freed stiffened slightly.

His tone was almost exhausted, as if this was a regular and tedious occurrence. Which it wasn't. This was abnormal, something that Freed had never done before, and he would hope that his friends might respect his wishes about the situation. He was about to voice this annoyance when Evergreen spoke.

"Laxus texted me," She stated, and his eyes flickered over to her.

"Saying what, exactly?" He said slowly, the demand clear. He didn't know what Laxus had thought of the situation, whether he had noticed Freed slightly leaning in when they were face to face, and frankly he was a little scared of what Evergreen was about to say.

"That you didn't leave on the best terms, and that you didn't go back to Magnolia over the weekend," She said, sitting on Freed's sofa and staring him down. "He said you didn't fight, but you've been ignoring his calls. So, what happened?"

"I don't see why I should tell you," Freed walked to his kitchen. He got himself a glass of water, not offering anything to the two of them. He hoped they would understand the passive-aggressive message behind it.

"Because it's making you act like an-"

"What she means is," Bickslow interrupted. "That if you tell us what happened, then we might be able to help out with it. Make you feel a little better."

"I don't need you to make me feel better."

"You need something, baby," Bickslow sighed, looking at Freed with an annoyingly honest smile. It cracked a little at Freed's anger, as Bickslow mostly was exaggerative with his emotions, not honest. "Because, whatever you're doing right now, it's not like you. And it doesn't look very healthy."

Freed looked to where Bickslow was looking, and huffed. It was his trash can, around which were discarded remains of takeout food.

"So I'm no longer allowed to order food for myself?" He snapped.

"Of course you are," Evergreen placated him. "But you always cook for yourself, you always have. It'd be weird for you if you ordered takeout once a week, and this is a lot more than once a week," She sighed as she caught Freed's rolled eyes. "Look, we know it's only a little thing. But you're isolating yourself and not dealing with whatever the problem is, and that's not like you. And if something's affecting you that much, then we just thought that maybe we could help you with it. Even if it's just talking it out together."

"And we can go, if you want," Bickslow continued. "But I think it'd be best if we stayed."

Freed was silent, then huffed quietly. "Tea or coffee?"

After he had prepared them their drinks, and some further light convincing from the two of them, he began to explain what had happened. He only described what he needed to: that he had slowly been getting closer to Laxus over their time together, and that he had been developing a crush. That he felt a draw to Laxus that he couldn't understand, and it was sometimes making things uncomfortable for him.

Then he explained what had happened at the carnival. How he'd been angry, and he'd instinctively gone to Laxus to change that. How they'd spent the afternoon together, doing something very close to flirting. How he'd challenged Laxus to a ridiculous game, and what had happened because of it.

How they'd nearly kissed.

How Laxus had basically fled.

"So," Evergreen spoke up again after Freed had finished. "You did something you regret, and you're embarrassed?"

"Yes, because I'm a child" Freed agreed sarcastically.

"Everyone gets embarrassed Freed, not just kids," Bickslow sighed. "But I don't think that's why you're acting like this. I think the real issue is that you were embarrassed, but it didn't bother you as much as it normally would," Freed's brow furrowed slightly, and Bickslow continued. "You almost forgot to be embarrassed because it didn't matter. You were more worried about the things you did than the situation itself. You only felt embarrassed about it when you had time to think, and that's not normal for you."

"When did you become a psychologist?" Evergreen mumbled.

"Sorry, I just spent a lot of time around them now, with work. It's interesting stuff," Bickslow chuckled to himself, patting Freed's leg. "What I'm trying to say is, I think this is one of the first time's you've kind of wanted to be vulnerable for someone. That you've actually felt that it might be worth it, and it's messing you up a bit."

"I," Freed said slowly. "I suppose that might be possible. It's true that relationships aren't an area of expertise. It's possible that might be a… contributing factor."

"You should talk to him," Evergreen suggested. "It's probably the best way to get past this."

"We nearly kissed one another, and we haven't spoken to each other since then," Freed deflected at the idea, hand wrapping tightly around the mug of tea in his hand. "And he walked away from me the moment it happened. He's hardly enthusiastic about the situation."

"He was overwhelmed," Evergreen exclaimed. "I had to stop him from taking the train up here when he found out we hadn't heard from you for days," Freed scoffed a little at that. "Freed, did it really not occur to you that he might be just as crappy with his emotions as you, he just sucks in a different, more subtle way?"

Freed didn't answer that.

With his lack of an answer, the room fell into an uncomfortable quiet. Freed was now glaring down at his tea, gripping it tightly as a rush of annoyance ran over him. Because, not only had Evergreen and Bickslow acted as if they knew his mind better than he did, but they were also trying to tell him that Laxus might have nearly kissed him as well. It was angering, because even if it was true, they were missing the point.

Laxus wasn't someone Freed could get into a relationship with; he just wasn't. Not only was the man his employee, and therefore dating him would be a large conflict of interest, but he also lived three hours away in a place that was the direct antithesis of Era. As cliché as it was, they were from different worlds.

He had a feeling that, if he said any of that out loud, they'd say he was making excuses.

Maybe he was.

"There's something else we want to talk to you about, too," Evergreen spoke again, and her voice had a cautious edge to it that caught Freed's attention. Pre-emptively, he found himself getting defensive. "We've been talking, and we know it's not your favourite thing to talk about but…"

"The last time we saw you acting like this," Bickslow continued. "It was when your dad died."

"What are you implying?" Freed asked sharply.

"We just thought that maybe the reason you've become so," Evergreen thought for a moment, clearly trying to think of a word that wouldn't antagonise Freed. It probably wouldn't work. "Closed off might be because you don't know how to deal with the fact that she's… gone."

"For god's sake," Freed grunted. "Why are you both so insistent that her death is going to destroy me in some way? I am fine."

And he was. He was perfectly fine. Yes, his mother had died a few months ago, but that didn't mean that Freed had to become an inconsolable mess. That wasn't going to happen with Freed, especially considering how he and his mother had been drifting apart, more so after his father had died. And even if they hadn't separated from one another, it didn't mean that Freed was going to have some kind of break down months after the event. That wasn't something that more emotional people went through, so why the hell did they think Freed would?

It was infuriating to think about, now that he was. The fact that the people closest to him in the world were now trying to instil some kind of grief as an explanation for his behaviour. His behaviour that, in his mind, wasn't even that bad. There had been a bad situation, he took a step back from it and tried to calm himself down. If they thought it was an unhealthy way to deal with it, that was their issue.

"We're worried that you're refusing to talk about something," Bickslow insisted. "We don't want you to be dealing with something bad on your own."

"Well that would be quite difficult given you don't seem to be leaving me alone," Freed snapped.

"Come on man," Bickslow sighed. "You don't need to get-"

"So, just allow me to clarify what's happening," Freed spoke quickly, standing up and pacing. He needed to move. "You came here after speaking to Laxus about me behind my back. Now you're here, with your own ideas about why I'm behaving in a way that you believe is antisocial and unhealthy. You then make me explain the situation in detail, then essentially explain my own feelings to me despite the fact neither of you have a damn clue about what's happening in my mind," Freed was breathing hard now, finger running over his palm and jaw tight. "And now you're ignoring all of that, and trying to bring attention to my mother's death for some reason, despite the fact that you've heard me say that I am fine multiple times."

"Freed," Evergreen said patiently – as if he were a child. Why were they treating him like this! "Maybe you should take a few minutes to-"

"You'd already concluded that my supposed 'shut down' was because of my mother's death, correct? You'd probably spoke about it together before coming here," Freed continued, anger rising still. "So why even mention Laxus? Is it just so you can continue the trend of being overly invasive in my life? The moment you realised I was befriending someone around my age who happened to be my type, you started asking pointless questions and making irritating jokes. Perhaps you just wanted more gossip and saw an opportunity."

"Okay, you're not in the best of moods, I understand," Bickslow sighed, standing up. "Maybe we should go."

"You should," Freed snapped.

"Fine," Evergreen muttered, seemingly annoyed herself now. "But turn your fucking phone on, and if Laxus calls you again then answer, because he's worried," She walked to the door, but turned before leaving. "And when you wanna call us and apologise for that last remark, I'll be waiting."

She left the apartment, huffing. Bickslow sighed, patted Freed on the shoulder with a promise of texting him later, before leaving as well.

Freed deflated slightly, falling into his desk chair while his leg jumped up and down with anxious energy. He ran a hand over his face and spun towards his desk, only to be confronted with the sight of the list he had wrote down earlier. And now, after what his friends had said, it was painfully clear that he had missed one thing that he was feeling more than anything else.

'Fear – I don't want to be alone.'

~~~

He'd fallen asleep not long after, curling onto his leather sofa, and drifting off with ease. The sudden rush of adrenaline that had accompanied his anger had deflated not soon after Bickslow and Evergreen had left. It was interesting to know that, after a volatile emotional outburst, you had an overwhelming urge to sleep.

In this situation, you also felt an overwhelming urge to apologise.

Because Bickslow and Evergreen were his friends, and always had been. They weren't the type of people to conspire against him, especially not for something as small as a damn piece of gossip about his relationship with Laxus.

In retrospect, this was entirely obvious. They were good people, and clearly had his best interests at heart. They'd come to his apartment because they were worried about him and they wanted to make sure he was okay, find out what was bothering him, and offer their advice. But, in the moment, he had felt almost attacked by the two of them, as if they were ganging up on him. He had gotten defensive and fought back against what he considered an attack on him.

Now, it felt stupid. And he felt guilty.

Phoning Evergreen would have been the first thing he did after waking up, had it not been his ringing phone being the reason he woke. He took a few second to realise what the sound was, and reached out for his phone from his coffee table; he'd turned the device back on after Evergreen and Bickslow had left. He'd seen a lot of missed texts and calls from his friends when he had.

Incoming Call: Laxus Dreyar

He reached for the mug on the table, drinking down the remainder of his now very cold tea. It woke him up slightly, and he answered the call with a small amount of nervousness filling him. They hadn't spoke since the carnival, and Freed didn't know how to deal with the situation.

"Oh, hey," Laxus voice filled Freed's ears. He sounded worried, and Freed frowned. It wasn't nice to know that he was probably to blame for that. "I didn't expect you to answer."

"Well, Evergreen said you were worried," Freed murmured, looking out his window. It was late evening now.

"Yeah, I was," Laxus agreed.

Freed almost sighed, wondering if he would have been able to admit that so openly. With Laxus, maybe he could have.

"She texted me earlier," He continued, and Freed heard a slight shifting from the phone. He absently wondered what he was doing. A ridiculous thought made worse because, if it weren't for his pride, he would have been with Laxus at that moment. "Apparently when she and Bickslow went to your place to talk to you, you kinda exploded at them."

He said that with a slight laugh in his voice, and it grated on Freed's nerves. "I don't appreciate the fact you're talking about me behind my back."

"You kicked your best friends out of your apartment," Laxus said tiredly. "We're just-"

"How did your even get her phone number?" Freed spoke over him, standing up again. "She came to Magnolia once and you spoke for about five minutes at the most."

"She added me on Facebook," Laxus explained.

"So you're not actually texting, then, are you?" Freed demanded, unaware as to why exactly he was so bothered by this little detail. But he was, and the whispered 'fucks sake' from the other side of the phone didn't help his mood. "You're actually using the messenger app, aren't you? Not the texting app. So you haven't been texting one another, you've been messaging each other. Which is a different thing."

"Does it matter?"

"Yes it does, everything matters," Freed snapped. "Details are important to me, Laxus. I need to know the entire story before I can get involved. And if you-"

"Fucks sake," Laxus spoke loudly. "Will you stop fucking talking."

And he did.

"Look, I get that you ain't in a good mood, and that you probably don't wanna deal with me right now. But tough shit. You kept saying you're okay, and that you don't wanna be treated with kid gloves right?" Laxus demanded, and stupidly Freed nodded. "Well that's what I'm gonna do. So we're gonna talk, we're gonna discuss what happened, and I'm gonna make sure you get over it somehow. Because I wasn't happy when you started avoiding me, and I'm sure as hell not letting you ghost your friends and yell at them if it's because of something I did."

"I don't wish to speak about it."

"Well too fucking bad," Laxus retorted. "We're talking about it. So whenever you're ready, we're gonna start."

Despite his annoyed tone, Freed felt that Laxus was allowing him a kindness by letting him start the conversation. At least this way, he was allowed to frame the events in what way he wanted. He was also allowed some time to think, which he desperately needed. He closed his eyes for a moment, and gathered his thoughts before speaking again.

He needed to be honest. Bickslow had been right in that he felt inexplicably comfortable being vulnerable around Laxus, and he needed to take advantage of that.

"I can be obtuse, at times," Freed confessed. "And sometimes I feel compelled to do things that some people might consider… abnormal. For the most part I'm rather strict about it, but with you, I don't know, you sort of have an effect on this filter I've made. Most of the time you probably won't notice, but I doubt I would have asked to be taught plumbing and electrics from anybody else."

"There's nothing wrong with following your instincts," Laxus said calmly, and Freed felt a little struck by the sudden comfort in his voice. "Especially when it comes to what you wanna do."

"Perhaps," Freed agreed, slightly unwillingly. "But, with what happened between us, it shouldn't have happened. I shouldn't have…"

Freed paused. He had to say it. Had to say that he shouldn't have leant in to kiss Laxus. He shouldn't have flirted with him for an afternoon. He shouldn't have gotten so close to him despite knowing both his growing feelings and that a relationship between the two of them would be inappropriate and perhaps impossible.

"…I shouldn't have made you play the game when you clearly didn't want to. I'm sorry."

He closed his eyes, angry at himself now. Why could be not just say what he felt!

"Okay," Laxus said softly, almost as if to himself. "You don't need to feel guilty; about anything that happened. I mean, I wanted to do it too, even if I didn't make it obvious on the day."

The way Laxus was speaking, putting emphasis on certain words, made Freed pay attention. Laxus had perhaps understood that what Freed had meant to apologise for wasn't what he actually said. If that was true, then Laxus had decided that he was going to spare Freed the embarrassment of the situation and instead use the dunk tank as a metaphor. Freed was incredibly thankful, and also almost touched, by the gesture.

"I feel like I pressured you into it," Freed confessed. "That you might have thought I'd actually hold my position against you if you didn't do what I said."

"Freed, I ain't the kind of guy to be intimidated like that. If I thought you were genuinely doing that, I probably would have punched you or something," Laxus said, voice serious enough to calm Freed slightly. "And the fact is, I got up there myself, nobody forced me to do it. I knew the risks and didn't care about it. That was my choice."

A flashed memory of Laxus and Freed's faces being so close, so tantalisingly close flashed into Freed's mind. He reddened slightly at the thought.

"Are you sure?" Freed asked, needing confirmation.

"The only thing about that day that I regretted was leaving the way I did," Laxus said, with honesty in his voice. He then let out a small laugh. "Well, maybe I regret not seeing that the guy running the dunk tank had a towel that I could have used."

"I probably should have told you about that," Freed chuckled quietly.

"You saw it?" Laxus sounded aghast, probably exaggerating his annoyance to calm Freed "Bastard."

"I suppose so," Freed nodded, self-deprecatingly.

"So, are you gonna stop beating yourself up about this now that you know my side?" Laxus asked, voice sounding hopeful now. "Because you've been freaking me out not being here, I've had almost two weeks without smartass comments coming from you," He laughed, before adding honestly. "I missed ya."

"I missed you too," Freed confessed. "I'm sorry. I'll try not to worry you again."

"You don't need to apologise," Laxus assured him. "Well, not to me. Ever might disagree with that."

Freed laughed softly at that, knowing full well that he would have to apologise profusely to his friend very soon. It would most likely be accompanied by a large amount of sucking up to her, to get her favour again. Which of course he would do, because he loved the woman, as antagonising and gossipy as she could be. Though he would have to talk to her about her conversations about him behind his back, as Freed still felt like that was quite invasive.

"Can I- d'you mind if I say something that might be outta line?" Laxus spoke again.

"Of course," Freed said, frowning to himself.

"I think you should move to Magnolia," Laxus rushed his words out slightly, and spoke again before Freed could process what he said. "Not permanently, but maybe until the house is done. I mean you have a place to live there, so it won't cost anything, and I think it could be good to you to get away from Era for a few months."

"You… want me to move to Magnolia?" Freed echoed.

"I know you don't like talking about this, but I think it'll be the only way to come to terms with what happened with your mother," Laxus continued, and Freed went to speak. Laxus got there first. "I get you don't want sympathy, and I'm not giving it to you. But I get what it's like to lose your mother, and have everyone around you expecting you to act in a certain way. It's like they want you to feel sad all the time, and it's like your failing at grief if you're not. People don't get that, but I do."

Freed understood that. Peoples expectations of his grief had bothered him for months.

"W my mom died, I didn't wanna be the sad kid with a dead mom," Laxus sighed. "I did everything I could not to be that kid. But I didn't know what the hell to do, so I just kept going like I was normal. I went to school, I cussed out teachers, I beat kids up. I thought I was fine because everything I was doing was what I normally did. And when I got kicked out, and I lost that structure, I had to get used to who I was now, without her. I couldn't pretend I was who I was before losing her, and had to deal with it."

"So," Freed said after a moment's thinking. "You believe that it would be best for me to leave my normal life so I can… come to terms with her death," He surmised. "Doesn't that seem like I'm running away from the problem?"

"You ain't running away from anything. You're not the type," Laxus had a small smile in his voice. "What you'd be doing is letting yourself grow into the person you are without her, rather than clinging to who you were before."

Freed was silent for a moment, before letting out a single laugh. "You therapist was smart, wasn't she?"

"She was," Laxus agreed.

"Annoying though," Freed continued.

"Definitely," Laxus laughed, before speaking softly. "You're gonna consider it then?"

"I will," Freed nodded.

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"Good," Laxus smiled. "Now, let's talk about you not mentioning the towel to me."

With the joke, Freed felt his relationship to Laxus normalise again. He could almost cry with the relief that flooded through him.

[sithsecrets]

Empress ⁂ Part 3

Engaged by her father to Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, a princess navigates the dynamics of her new marriage while discovering her own power as a member of the Order.

—

3.9k words

Mentions: sex, swearing

—

3.

As soon as you wake up, you know immediately that it’s far too early for anyone to be even remotely conscious. And yet, there Kylo Ren stands, fully dressed and fiddling with something on his belt as if it’s a reasonable hour of the day.

“Do you always wake up this early?” You don’t mean for it to come out that way, but for fuck’s sake.

Standing at the foot of the bed, Kylo jumps at the sound of your voice, obviously not expecting you to be awake. “Did I wake you?” he asks, and you think you hear a bit of genuine concern in your husband’s voice.

Sitting up in bed, you shrug, rubbing at your bleary eyes. “No, not really. I was already half awake, and then I heard you move.” Whisking little wisps of hair out of your face, you stretch, shivering as the covers slip down your chest. You can feel Kylo watching you, and he has that same flustered look on his face, the one from last night after you’d gotten out of the bathtub.

“I train in the mornings,” Kylo says quickly, turning away from you to grab something off the dresser he’d been facing before. “It clears my head.”

“Your collar’s crooked,” you announce suddenly, because it is, folded down in the back where Kylo can’t see. The floor is cold on your feet, but you walk over to your husband anyway.

When you reach behind him to fix his shirt, Kylo flinches, almost as if you were reaching up to slap him instead. You hadn’t caught him off-guard, that much you know, and it takes you just one second of looking at the mild panic in Kylo’s eyes to realize that maybe there’s a reason he makes himself so mean and scary in front of other people all the time.

“When was the last time someone touched you without meaning to harm you?” You know it’s a rather personal question, but it’s also an important one.

Kylo pauses for a beat, swallows heavily, and then, “Before you came here?” He says this quietly, like a secret, and that’s enough to give you your answer. But still you nod, waiting.

“I don’t remember.” And then Kylo’s walking off, striding out of the room and away from you as quickly as he can. You sigh as you watch him go.

Your one regret is that his collar is still out of place.

----

You and Kylo don’t speak of your little incident after it happens. Thankfully, though, it doesn’t seem like the whole thing did any damage, because Kylo remains cordial you, even friendly.

The next few days are spent reading about Valdera, studying its leadership, making notes about which customs you should follow— and which ones you should strategically ignore. You’re fitted for a few new dresses, garments in the style of your home planet sewn in the colors of the Order, and you think that they’ll be a nice fit for the negotiations. In those sessions with the tailor, you also have a few new nightgowns made, ones that fit you a little better, ones with some pretty things sewn onto them. You think you look rather striking in them, and you can’t help but hope that your husband thinks so too.

The fact that Kylo has made no moves to consummate the marriage bothers you more than you’d like to admit. You were nervous in the beginning, unsure of how your husband would be with you. You’d been picturing a tyrant with whores, a powerful man who takes a different woman to bed with him every night, and you feared the idea of such a person focusing their sexual desires on you. But Kylo is nothing like that, not even remotely, and you think now that you would be comfortable giving yourself to him.

After more than a week, though, he’s not so much as expressed interest in holding your hand, let alone fucking you, and you’re starting to get concerned he never will. You wish he would just tell you what the problem is if there is one, or just flat out admit that he’s not interested. You could live with that— honestly, you could— and not having to think about sex anymore would take some pressure off of you.

However, you know that Kylo is attracted to you, you can see it in his eyes sometimes. He flushes when you walk around in your nightgown, sneaks glances at you while you brush your hair or put on your moisturizer at night. Deep down, you know it’s just something about him; there’s something in Kylo that makes him afraid of being intimate, and it’s clear every time he pulls away from your touch.

And it’s not even about the sex, really. Even though Kylo Ren is known as a tyrant throughout most of the galaxy, it makes you sad to think that someone beat the desire to be touched out of him at some point in his short life. You know part of his story, know that his parents sent him away to train as a Jedi. Then there was that awful attack on the other trainees, and it doesn’t take a genius to understand that Ben Solo died with those other children that night, too. But something else happened, something that came after the destruction of the Jedi that’s made Kylo Ren the person he is today— and that something is why he flinches like he’s about to be hit whenever you touch him.

----

The arrival of the Valderan ambassadors is fast approaching, and you’ve finally settled on how you’re going to handle them.

Valdera as a planet is mineral-rich and well-developed, with sprawling cities and a large population. From the outside looking in, one could think that the Valderans are an advanced people living in a progressive society with cutting-edge technology and strong leadership. But if, one bothered to look closer, however, they would see that not all is right on the planet.

Most of the grunt work on the planet is done by slaves, people stolen from smaller, weaker planets that share a solar system with Valdera. Valderan culture is patriarchal, which in and of itself is not inherently bad. However, Valderan men tend to take advantage of their power in society, subjugating the women around them in varying degrees. While the country does have a democratically elected leader, women are not allowed to cast their own ballots, and slaves can’t vote at all, regardless of their sex.

And that’s just the planet’s overall culture. The men who are coming to meet with you and Kylo, the ambassadors, they’re real pieces of work. They’re your garden-variety spoiled assholes, born into mineral money and raised in the elite. You know everything about them because of the Order’s connections, know that they both like to hide their money from taxation, know that they don’t put any of their immense wealth into charity.

Last Valderan spring, one of them married a seventeen-year-old girl. He’s in his thirties. You intend to fuck with him most of all.

In short, your goals are to dismantle the more oppressive aspects of the Valderan power structure, emancipate the planet’s slave, and secure the vote for all Valderan citizens, regardless of sex or societal station. You also intend to offer support to the smaller planets that Valdera has been leeching off of for years, and all freed slaves will be given the option to return home with the Order’s help, should they choose to do so. That’s really all you want to give them: a choice.

Naturally, these ambassadors are two men who will probably not take kindly to dealing with a powerful woman such as yourself. So, naturally, you’re going to you’re going to be an unmitigated bitch to them the entire time they’re on the ship. You will not show submission to anyone in their presence, you will not allow them to talk over you, and you certainly will not allow them to behave as if they have any real power. By the time you’re finished with them, they’ll be drowning in humility and falling all over themselves to do anything the Order says.

But to do all of this, to handle the ambassadors the way they need to be handled, you’ll need Kylo’s help. You’ll also need to keep him calm through all of this; you have a feeling that he won’t get along with these men easily, and how could he? These men have been handed all that they have. From what you understand, Kylo’s had to fight tooth and nail for everything he’s ever even had a chance at having.

Now, all that’s left is to brief your husband and work out the minor details where he’s concerned. Or, at least you hope it’ll be simple to iron out the details that still seem a little wrinkled in your mind.

You approach the subject with Kylo over dinner.

“I know what I’m going to do with the Valderans,” you announce, applying a bit of savory spread to a piece of bread with your knife.

Kylo swallows the food in his mouth, looks at you across the table. “Tell me,” he says, listening intently.

“It’s a rather simple plan, really,” you begin, talking around a small bite of bread. “I’m going to treat them like the spoiled children they are.”

Brow arched, Kylo asks, “You’re going to be unkind to them?”

“Oh yes,” you answer, “the entire time. They deserve nothing less, and they won’t cooperate otherwise. They both seem to be arrogant, proud people, and not in the way that’s sometimes beneficial for men in their position. By the time I’m done with them, we’ll be able to do anything we want with that planet.” Looking up from where you’d been cutting into your food, you eye your husband up and down shortly. “If I have you figured right, you’ll hate them.”

You can tell that Kylo’s mulling over everything you’ve said in your mind, can tell that he’s a little confused. “They’re just ambassadors,” he states, “they don’t really control anything. How do you know that the president of Valderan will cooperate with us?”

“The president of Valderan as it stands now is little more than a figurehead. He’s inhibited by all of the greedy men in his parliament, and that’s making it difficult for him to get anything done. In reality, he’s very progressive. He’s been trying to pass a mandate to end slavery on the planet for years, but all of the people who are allowed to vote don’t like the idea of that. However, if we come in and say that the Order has decreed that slavery on the planet come to an end, he doesn’t have to keep trying, and the matter solves itself.”

You go on to tell Kylo about all of your plans and ideas for the planet of Valdera, how you think the enfranchisement of women and the newly freed slaves will boost the planet’s economy, as well as garner support for the Order. Kylo listens with rapt attention as you explain how expanding the voter base will clean up Parliament during the next midterm election, nodding along as you go.

“That’s more or less what I was thinking,” Kylo tells you, “but that bit about offering the freed slaves passage back to their home planets at their discretion is genius.”

It’s so validating to hear him say that, to be praised for your plans. Back home, you’d only been used as a negotiation tool, a go-between for your parents and foreign dignitaries— you were never actually allowed to dictate policy or throw around ideas.

“That way, they feel like they have autonomy over the new path of their lives. Which, they do, of course,” you say, and it’s your finishing thought.

There’s a pause, just you and Kylo looking at each other in silence for a moment, and then he sinks back in his chair. “What do you need from me?”

“To lead the negotiations, obviously,” you answer, “but not in a way that undermines me. It’s very important that these men view me as a person with power.”

“But you are a person with power,” Kylo says, brows knitted together.

“I know, but these aren’t men who are accustomed to taking women seriously. It’s paramount that you treat me as your equal at all times. If it even appears like I’m just there as an accessory, the whole things ruined.”

You set down your silverware, finished with your food now. Swiping a napkin on the corners of your mouth, you pause, thinking of how to phrase this next bit. “But at the same time,” you begin, “you and I have to seem… familiar with one another. It’s important that they think we’re more than just allies, but lovers as well.”

The gears turn in Kylo head, and then everything seems to click. “Oh,” he sighs, flushing a deep shade of red, and you almost want to laugh. It’s always a bit comical to watch the Supreme Leader of the First Order squirm, especially over matters like these.

(Also, a private part of you thinks that Kylo looks quite sweet when he blushes.)

“I understand,” Kylo announces, and you can tell he’s trying to paint on an air of confidence. “Of course. Treat you as my equal and act like we’re… familiar. I can do all of that.” He punctuates his statement with a firm nod, and you lean on the table a little, truly nervous to broach this final aspect of your plan with Kylo.

“Yes,” you say slowly, “but there’s something else.” Kylo nods, cuing you to go on, and you swallow heavily. “Your ability to read minds… how does it work?”

Your husband flinches just the slightest bit. “You want me to read their minds?” he asks quickly, and you shake your head, waving your hand in front of you dismissively.

“No, no” you say slowly, “I… I want you to read mine.”

This only seems to shock Kylo more, causing him to gape at you openly. “For what reason?”

Just a sliver of agitation prods its way into your voice, because really, is he going to act like he doesn’t do this sort of thing every day? “I know you can, Kylo.” His name is strange on your tongue, and you realize not without a little bit of surprise that you’ve never addressed him this way before. “I felt it that first night we went to bed together. I asked you to be gentle with me when I thought we were going to have sex, and I could feel you in my mind.”

He’s blushing again, and the look in his eyes reflects something akin to shame. You reach for his hand on the table, breathe deeply, force yourself to dial it back a notch. “It’s fine. I wanted you to hear me then,” you tell Kylo, and the way he glances down at your hand on his isn’t lost on you. “But I need to know if it’s always that easy.”

A beat, and then, “Only if you make it so. Otherwise, I have to dig my way in, and… and that would be very painful for you.”

Sitting back, you nod and withdraw your hand. “So I just have to let you in. I just have to be open to it.”

“Yes,” Kylo affirms. The hand you’d been touching curls slowly into a fist, and then Kylo puts it in his lap.

“Is it possible for us to communicate that way?”

This is the most important part, the whole reason you brought up the mind reading thing in the first place.

Kylo nods. “If you’re open to me hearing your thoughts, you’re also open to me projecting my own into your mind. You’ll feel it, certainly, but it shouldn’t hurt.”

“Can we try it now?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow. Kylo nods once more, setting his shoulders and sitting up a bit.

Doing the same in your own chair, you suddenly find yourself slightly nervous. You begin thinking of what you could “say,” so to speak, and as you look at Kylo, at the cut of his nose and the waves in his hair, you can only think one thing: You’re handsome.

You know at once that he’s heard you, because your husband turns an almost inhuman shade of red, flushed from his hairline down past his collar. And then you feel it in your mind, like an affectionate touch, like the caress of a lover: You’re beautiful.

And now it’s your turn to blush.

Once again, some sort of tension’s broken between the two of you, just the way that it did the night Kylo told you about your purpose in the Order. But this is a different sort of tension, one that releases something intimate as it dissipates.

“Do you not like it when I touch you?” you ask Kylo softly, voice low.

He swallows thickly, not quite meeting your eye. He’s almost whispering. “I… I like it too much.”

Shaking your head, you chide him gently. “It’s okay to like being touched, Kylo,” you tell him. “Everybody deserves affection.”

Still unable to look you in the eye, your husband looks instead down on his lap. His hands are fidgeting there, you can tell by the twitching of his arms.

“Give me your hand.” The command is a gentle one, but something in your tone implies that you’d rather not ask twice.

Kylo had taken his gloves off to eat beforehand, so his hand is bare when he lays it back on the table. You reach for it, gently clasping his fingers with your own, and you can’t help but notice the way that he tenses up. The skin on his palms is rough, calloused, but you decide you don’t mind. Rubbing your thumb over his knuckles sweetly, gently, you hope that he’ll relax.

The tension doesn’t leave Kylo’s body, but he does make eye contact with you. It’s a start, you think to yourself. And then, just as you begin to smile at your husband, you feel his fingers squeeze yours just the slightest bit.

----

Kylo leaves shortly after he lets you hold his hand, still beet red as he stumbles over a string of words regarding a briefing with the Knights. You let him go, glad to have made some more progress with him.

You spend the rest of the evening in the bathtub as you so often do, thinking about your plans for the Valderans and about what’s just transpired between you and your husband. It’s not lost on you how strange it is, this attraction you have towards one another. You can’t help but marvel at how quickly you’ve developed feelings for this man, feelings that run a bit deeper than just physical attraction, as you’re beginning to realize.

Maybe it’s the marriage and the tone that it set for how you and Kylo began interacting. You came into this prepared to be a wife to a powerful man, and that’s certainly what you are—just not in the way you thought you would be. Maybe that’s what you’re attracted to, the power Kylo’s given you simply by agreeing to be your husband. But it feels less shallow than that, and you definitely see him as more than a rung in the ladder to the top. You know that you don’t care deeply enough for Kylo to call what you feel love, but you feel defensive of him nonetheless. If someone said something negative about him in your presence, you would give them a tongue lashing. If he were to become injured, it would upset you.

And of course, you feel a genuine desire to help him rule; you want people to bend to his will, you want Kylo to have the respect he deserves. He’s so smart, so capable. You know that he wants good things for the galaxy, you can see it in the things he wants to accomplish.

The feelings stirring inside you are strange enough to give you chills, and you can’t help but think back to what Kylo said about the Force choosing you.

You’re dressed for bed when your husband returns, soft skin swathed in one of your new nightgowns, and you greet him with a smile. The smile he gives you in return isn’t a real smile, but it’s a smile by Kylo’s standards— just a quirking of the corners of his mouth. You find it endearing anyway.

As per his usual routine, Kylo goes to take a shower after greeting you, coming to bed in comfortable clothes and with wet hair. He goes about organizing his things for the next day, and you watch, unable to stop yourself from admiring the lines of his body. He must be strong, you think, observing how his shirt stretches taunt over his shoulders, how his biceps fill out the sleeves. You know you should be ashamed of yourself from ogling him so openly, but you can’t bring yourself to care as you imagine what your husband must look like without all those garments on his body.

He’s got to have scars, you think, because how could he not? It was impossible when you met him not to notice the one that splits his face, and you’re sure that training alone has marked him with a few others, not to mention all of the combat he’s seen. You’ve always been intrigued by scars, always liked knowing how their owners came to possess them. Maybe it’s because you yourself have only one to display, a mark on your thigh you earned from a fall in your teenage years. It’s healed well, but it’s still there, still pulls a little when you move your leg a certain way, a permanent reminder of the past. You wonder what Kylo’s scars remind him of, certain that it’s nothing good.

----

In the space between sleep and wakefulness, you hear Kylo speaking to you, voice soft in the darkness of your bedroom. You aren’t quite awake, aren’t quite coherent, so you move closer to him, willing your heavy eyes to stay open.

“What was that?” you ask, reaching out to cup his cheek, brush his hair back from his face. All you care about is the warmth of his skin against your palm, how you can still smell his soap on his damp hair. You just want to curl into him, and part of you wonders what Kylo would do if you just did.

“Can I hold your hand?” Kylo must be repeating himself, eyes shining in the darkness as he speaks soft, soft, soft. It’s taken all of his courage to ask, you can tell.

“Mmhm,” is about all you can come up with as a reply, withdrawing your hand from his cheek so you can fit your fingers together. Eyes so heavy, you let yourself enjoy the warmth of his palm on yours as you begin to drift off again.

“Goodnight,” Kylo whispers, and you’re too sleepy to answer him.

----

tag list: @oopsiedoopsie23 @dark-night-sky-99 @obsessionprofessional

[moonydaydreams]

𝐣𝐮𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Fandom: It Lives In the Woods

Pairing: MC x Noah, MC x Connor (past)

Words: 7.363 (holy cow)

Summary: Lightning never strikes the same place twice, but a second chance does. Even for someone like Noah Marshall.

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, angst 101 and swearing for dummies

Author’s note: This is my first Choices story and, holy cannoli, this is longer than I intended to be. But nonetheless, this an AU of what could have been had neither Noah or MC sacrificed themselves to take Jane’s place (THIS IS, IN ANOTHER WORD, A FORM OF DENIAL, Y'ALL. CAUSE THAT ENDING WRECKED ME) and Noah fled from Westchester. I’m sorry if the characters seem OOC or the story feels meh. So if you’re digging it or simply detest it, let me know, yeah? thanks!

———————————————————————————–

In a city where the subway stations smell like after-shave and peanut butter and jelly breath smelling college students at nine in the morning, and half of the street names that he still can’t recall to this day, a young man in a beanie, who couldn’t have been more than twenty or twenty-one enters a small 24/7 convenience store with his hands thrust deep inside his coat pockets.

A burly, beer-swilling, 6 feet of a man behind the cashier, elbow-deep in the football magazine in his last season’s Real Madrid jersey, glances up from his reading upon his arrival. His eyebrows narrow.

“Never seen you visiting this late,” Romero comments dryly over the trip-hop music that is playing over the speakers and flicked his eyes back to the magazine. “Did you accidentally shoot your dealer or some shit?“

Romero’s attempt on making small talks with him, albeit as condescending as it sounds, does not fall on deaf ears. But it’s cold outside and he’s hungry and broke, he simply doesn’t have the will to entertain him.

“Shut up. I’m hungry,” replies the young man, stopping by the instant food section. His eyes finding the many varieties of flavors and brands and feels his stomach sick at the amount of artificial food he’s been consuming over the years. It’s like being eight all over again.

“Well, knock yourself out. We just stocked up those crazy spicy Korean ramen you kids can’t seem to stop feeding.” Romero’s face breaks into a mocking grin. “Can’t wait to see you all die from cancer.”

“Instant noodles don’t directly cause cancer on its own, actually.”

Romero burst into laughter. “And how the fuck does a two-bit junkie like you know that, Malcolm?”

The boy’s face involuntarily twitches.

And it isn’t because of how alien the sound when someone addresses him with his fake name or how Romero somehow thinks he has his character all figured out. The thing about living in incognito for years, he’s already become accustomed to those; to prejudices and living up to the persona that people design for him just to inflate their egos and ward them off of his tail in the process. No one wants to affiliate themselves with “the junkie” or “the hot-headed mechanic with suicidal tendencies” and he is more than fine with his solitary.

No. It is the nature of the question that throws him off guard and how his mind all too soon, against his better wishes, refers to her.

Suddenly, he is Noah again. Thirteen years ago at the age of eight, looking out of the window with Jane as they watched a girl about their age in a short tutu dress and combat boots climbing up the oak tree in their backyard to save a distressed kitten.

Their parents saw this, did a double-take, went hysterical and called her parents. He later learned her name was Liz and that she’d just moved into the neighborhood a week ago.

Then he sees Liz again, now a few months after their first encounter, running off to the forest with Jane’s arm linked with hers. He remembers her messy braided hair and freckles multiplied by the sun as they led Noah and the rest of their friends to abandoned ruins they’d somehow stumbled on a week ago. 

His memory of her somehow jumps forward. Now, he sees her in a different light, a different vignette. It is from three years ago this time and she was no longer the Liz all knees, elbows and mud on her shoes young girl from his childhood. She was Liz, on the edge of seventeen, her hair nine shades lighter than when she was a kid (she also had bangs now) with a barbed wire bat in her left hand, and a fire axe in the other, but still the same dark-eyed sprite that made his cold, dead heart skip a beat whenever she looked at his way and smiled that smile of hers; the kind that radiated her cheeks and lit up her eyes. 

The same light that he watched slowly waning from her eyes when she discovered his ulterior plan. 

His heart feels like shattering into smithereens all over again. He doesn’t realize he’s been squeezing on the noodle packet too tight until he hears the contents shatter in his hand. 

“A friend told me,” Noah finds himself saying even before his brain can halt it. Staring blankly at the packet, his mouth dropping into a frown.

He can feel Romero’s gaze on him, curious and confused. Shifting between the packet in his hand and his glazed-over expression. Noah, realizing he’s just projected his emotion right out in the open, huffs and throws the squeezed noodle packet into his shopping basket. 

Romero clears his throat. “Sounds like quite a friend.”

Noah pretends as if the jig isn’t exactly up and decides to actively ignore the older man. He gets the rest of his needs, holding the last of his composure against slipping and brings his groceries to the cashier, looking down at his feet whenever Romero glances at him in genuine concern.

“Catch ya later, Malcolm,” Romero says as he hands Noah the change. “And, uh… stay safe, you hear me?”

Noah, in return, only nods his thanks, probably a little too curt according to the polite society and leaves.

Outside, thunder begins to roll overhead. Noah eyes the sky nervously. It’s going to rain soon. And hard judging from the way the clouds are moving across the black midnight sky.

Noah rifles for his cigarette pack from his pockets, lights one and begins making his way back to his hellhole of an apartment. Treading slowly through the deserted streets, steering clear from alley-ways and suspicious characters until he can see the window of his apartment.

Then, Noah’s feet skid to a hard stop.

His jaw drops, his cigarette falling unheeded to the ground.

Sitting on the front steps of his apartment building is Liz, swathed in an oversized overcoat, her head leaning onto the railings, she seems to be sleeping.

What in the sweet fuck?

For a good minute, Noah stands stock-still. He simply gazes at his former best friend, nonplussed and borderline panicking. A migraine begins to form in his head. He gazes over his shoulder, watching and waiting for anyone to jump at him from the alley or anything, because there is no way in hell this is not a trap. This can’t be. 

He waits and waits, but no one comes out. Confused, Noah looks at her again, his expression inscrutable. If this is not a trap, then this must be a cruel dream the universe pulls on him for all the wrongdoings he has committed in his life. That, or Noah must have tragically died on his way back home and ascended to heaven. 

But then, if this is heaven, why is he here?

Eventually, Noah kneels before her. He reaches his hand out to her, hesitating mid-move and touches her shoulder.

“Liz?” he gives her shoulder a gentle shake. “Liz, wake up.”

She does. Slowly, her eyes flutter open, bleary and brown, and meets his gaze for the first time in three years. Noah feels like his breath stuck in his throat.

“Noah?” Liz blinks sleepily, twice, then yawns into the back of her hand. “What time is it?”

He glances at his phone. “A quarter past two.”

Liz’s brows furrow. “Huh. What were you doing out so late?”

“Had to do a supply run.” Noah gestures to the shopping bag in his hand. Then, “Liz, what are you doing here?” he asks, his voice a broken whisper.

Liz doesn’t answer his question, merely wraps her arms around herself, attempting to keep warm and sighs tiredly.

“Noah, can we go inside?” she pleas, instead. Desperation fuelling her voice. “I’m tired and cold and I…” she trails off.

Consideration flashes in Noah’s eyes for a moment. The logical part of his head insists for him to take her to the nearest train station and send her off back to Westchester. It’s the right thing to do. Considering that he’s been laying low for years now, the last thing he needs to add to his ongoing headache is for the police to suspect that she’s an accomplice.

But he’s never been the wiser one.

So, he takes her gloved hand and helps her to stand and, after giving one last look at their surroundings, of course, ushers her inside the apartment building. 

Neither says anything as they make their way to the staircase, as they venture through the grimy hallway where the dim and shadowed lights overhead following their every step like vultures and past the occupied doors where a loud, sexual moan comes from behind one of them.

She doesn’t make any comment about the awful state of the place he lives in, while he simply doesn’t have the capacity to be embarrassed because everything happens so sudden, Noah himself is still second-guessing if any of this is real. 

Finally, they stop by his door. Noah produces the key from his wallet when he hesitates, remembering the state of the room the last time he left it.

“A bit of warning, though…” He rubs his neck, embarrassed. “it’s pretty messy inside.”

“It’s fine.”

Noah turns the key and eases the door open.

The rain has started to pour. Noah turns the side lamp on and takes off his coat, his groceries on top of the kitchen counter. He watches as Liz, as if in a daze, tosses her coat and gloves to his bed and walks towards the direction of the window. A hand against the windowpane, the flare of the street lamp outside illuminating her features in the dimness, she silently watches as the rain falls on the pavement. Lost somewhere in the tangled cobwebs of her thoughts.

And it occurs to Noah that she is no longer Liz, on the edge of seventeen with a barbed wire bat in her left hand, and a fire axe in the other. She is Liz, older, with circles under her eyes, the world on her shoulders and a few pounds lighter than he remembers, but still the same dark-eyed sprite and with the pale shades of haired girl that he yearns to wrap his arms around and tells her how sorry he is for all those years ago, for leaving without saying a proper goodbye and how all these years it is her that keeps him going through every day and drives him insane at the same time. 

But he can only remain in his place and forces to quell his desire to do the aforementioned. Because Noah’s pretty sure that privilege is long gone the moment his betrayal came to light. Even to be standing in the very room with her is a crime, yet here they are.

Here she is.

“Liz?“ 

“Yeah?”

“Have you, uh,” his gaze finds the ramen packets, suddenly feeling inspired. “Have you eaten anything?”

She is silent for a while. “No.”

“I’m making ramen, you want some?” 

“Okay.” 

With that, Noah rolls up his sleeves, takes two eggs and a few vegetables from the fridge and begins to work. He ditches the salty packet of MSG and makes his own broth while at the same time, mincing the garlic and green onion and grating the ginger. By the time he sautées the aromatics, Liz makes a beeline from the window and hops onto the counter, watching him distractedly as he continues cooking. 

She stays silent and so does he. Despite the lack of words, everything feels strangely… domestic? Under different circumstances, Noah can easily get used to this; him cooking for her, with her becoming his taste tester whenever he’s experimenting with new recipes he finds on the internet and simply impresses her on a daily basis. Yeah, he can definitely get used to that.

Ten minutes passed, Noah then moves the ‘upgraded ramen’ to the bowls and serves one to her. The taste will probably pale in comparison to the one that her mom used to make, yet it earns him her first smile of the night, albeit small and closed-mouthed, it’s still a smile nonetheless. 

He grabs two cans of beer from the fridge and moves onto the couch with her. They finish their meal within minutes, still in silence. For a moment, the only sound that encompasses the room is the rain and his next-door neighbor who has the TV going in full-blast. That asshole.

Noah reaches out for a cigarette pack from the coffee table, dexterously flicks his wrist so a single one pops halfway out of the carton. He casts her a sidelong glance.

“Do you mind if I…?” he trails off, gesturing to the cigarette. 

Liz’s stare zeroes on the cancer stick, scowling, as if she doesn’t approve of this vice of his, but shrugs nonetheless. 

“So, how, uh…” Noah clears his throat, gathering his courage. How does he do this? How do you break the ice with your former best friend who you happen to have a crush on for more than a decade and almost murdered because your dead twin sister compelled you to do so without being awkward? 

“How are you, by the way?“ he manages to ask behind a plume of smoke. 

“I’m doing okay,” she says but in a tone when someone is obviously not okay.

“Just okay?”

“I…” she hesitates. “Yeah, just okay.” Liz lies and manages a weak smile. Noah decides not to press for more information. “Though I’ve been busy these days. I’m trying to finish my dissertation sometime around next year.”

"Already?” And she nods. Noah whistles, obviously impressed. "I’m guessing you did take the English major?”

Liz’s eyes widened slightly. “You remember." 

"Yeah.” Noah looks down. Of course he remembers, not when it’s impossible to forget the very idea of Liz Mortimer. “And your old man doesn’t try to fight you for this?”

“Nope. After Ja–” she clamps her mouth shut. “I graduated, let’s just say he had a hard time saying no to me.” She chuckles, but just for a good three seconds and Noah doesn’t have to ask why to know the reason behind her father’s sudden change of heart.

“How about you?” she asks, then shakes her head. “I mean, how are you?” She amends.

Heaven knows I’m always miserable, Liz. But he doesn’t say that. “I’m okay, too, I guess." 

"Just okay?” Liz parrots his own words at him and he smiles, the left side of his mouth higher than the right. They may still be painfully awkward to one another, but it feels so good to be talking with her again.

“Nothing new under the sun for me, but I’m thriving. And, um, how’s the others?” a.k.a the bunch of group of friends I hurt.

“They’re alright. Lily started her own video game called Pixie Moon, which I have no doubt will take the world by storm the way Candy Crush did; Ava is writing a book about witch trials; Stace is studying journalism and basically kicking ass; Dan is pursuing psychology; His majesty King Kang himself is playing for the Bighorns; and Lucas, as you can expect, is off to save our earth.”

Noah swallows the information one by one. His face an inscrutable blank. All of his friends somehow have found a place on this earth, they all have moved on except for him, again, who’s still scratching around in the same old hole; his future derived, his past an endless pitfall.

“And Connor?” he asks quietly, when in truth he doesn’t give two-shits about the man. But he knows she does, and Noah loves her too much to let his jealousy dictate his behavior. 

Suddenly, her face falls. Teeth chewing nervously on her lower lip. “He's… fine. He’s probably at home now as we speak.“

“And now you’re a long way from home.”

“So are you.”

Noah shakes his head. “Westchester stopped being my home the moment I turned eight.” He sighs forlornly, looks the other way, hands fidgeting. Force of habit. “Liz, as much as I’m glad to see you, but why did you come here?”

“How long have you been staying here?” Liz evades his question as if he never asked it in the first place.

Noah raises an eyebrow, exhales, but decides to play along. “Since August. So that’s two months. Probably, the longest I have ever stayed in one place.”

“Where have you been all this time?”

“Well, there was Utah and Kansas. Then Minnesota for a couple of weeks, but I couldn’t stand the cold and the rest is history,” he keeps his answer as vague as possible, not when he still has no idea the nature of her visit. “Look, why are you here?”

But still, the girl dodges his question. “Why do you–”

Until his patience can’t simply take it anymore. 

Noah is all but scoots over to her position until their knees are touching, the cigarette forgotten on the ashtray, and grips her arms firmly. His eyebrows knitted as he takes in her stunned face. 

“Liz.” There is a twinge of anger, confusion and desperation in the way he says her name this time. “Why are you here? You know you can’t be here. Goddamn it! If the fucking cops find out that you’re here…” Once he realizes what he is doing, he withdraws his hands as if she’s fire and now he’s burning.

“They won’t. I can assure you that." 

"You don’t know that.”

“I know what I’m doing, Noah. Trust me, I wouldn’t have come here if I knew it’s not safe,” Liz replies, her tone doesn’t leave any room for doubts and he knows there is no way to talk his way around it. Not to mention, he trusts her, if there is anyone who can sneak behind authority and get away with it, it has to be her.

Noah shrugs, agreeable, but he isn’t going to let her off so easily. 

“How did you find me, anyway?” he questions, reaching for his cigarette and takes a deep, long drag just to spite his throat. He has a feeling he might be smoking his misery away all night by the time she’s left.

The blonde-haired girl shrugs and absentmindedly leans her back against the couch, one arm wraps around her midsection. “It wasn’t easy, actually. But I made some new friends in Pine Springs and one of them is acquainted with the newly-minted Police Chief. Pulled a few strings and here we are.” 

“Pine Springs? What the heck were you doing there?”

“It's… a long story. But there were people there needing my help, and in exchange, they helped me track you down. An eye for an eye.”

Lightning suddenly jags across the night sky, briefly illuminating the room, pulling him out of his musings. She jumps at the sound, startled, and instinctively reaches for his hand. Noah freezes at the contact, forgetting how her skin feels like on his or a decent human contact in general. It’s been so long. And somehow he loses the ability to speak, to think.

He definitely doesn’t think when Noah moves his hand under hers, intertwining their fingers together.

Noah feels her head moving, her eyes darting from their joined hands and to his face that turns into a parade of expressions– misery, regret and melancholy. The holy trinity of feelings he’s been bearing for the past three years– for the past thirteen years of his life, actually– and feels her hand squeezing back his. 

“Christ, I can’t believe you went all through that shit just to find me,” he croaks, all but on the verge of tears. “And I left you just like that even without saying sorry.”

“Noah…”

“No, let me say it, Liz. I need to say it.” His hands are trembling, his composure this close from crumbling. “What I did was unforgivable. And I know there is nothing in this world that could help me undo the damage I’ve done to you and how I’ll spend the rest of my day regretting it, but regardless, I’m sorry,” he sobs, his whole body is shaking by now. 

“I’m so sorry for the nightmare I put you through. I was so blinded by my own volition and revenge for Jane’s death that I hurt you, all of you in the process without giving a single rat’s ass about it.” Noah pauses, wipes his tears with the back of his hand. “I’m a monster, Liz. A selfish, heartless, miserable monster. God, I should have died that night.”

“Hey, hey, look at me.” She plucks the cigarette from his other hand, discards it on her empty bowl and places her other hand on his shoulder. “Noah, look at me,” she says again, her voice like a caress. He looks up. “Don’t say that. You are not a monster. You’re just a byproduct of the pain from losing your sister, loneliness and bad parenting. That doesn’t make you a monster. That makes you human.”

“A normal human being wouldn’t lure his friends into abandoned ruins in the middle of a fucking forest where his sister died and put their lives hang in the balance.”

“No, they wouldn’t, but if there is anything Dan taught me is that people react to loss in different ways.”

Noah groans and pushing himself to his feet. “No, don’t try to find a way to justify this. Didn’t you forget, I could have killed you that night. You! The- the only one who gives a fuck whether I’m breathing or not.” The only one who matters. “If you hadn’t stopped her… God, I don’t even want to go there.“

She gets up from the couch as well. “I’m not justifying anything. Yes, what you did to us was… It was harrowing, it was despicable but I also knew the extent of your agony that drove you to do it. I understand… and like what I said that night in the cave; it’s not your fault. Not exclusively, at least. And I forgive you for it.”

“Liz–”

“No, listen to me, we all made mistake–”

He snorts. “Not on a grand scale like this, I bet.”

“Maybe not. But the fact that you give a shit and beat yourself up for years for what you did, that already speaks a lot,” she says. “You’ve tormented yourself enough. It’s not going to do you anything good. It’s not going to erase anything. What you need to do now is to close that book. Get a new one, write a new story, move on. I have forgiven you, I’m sure the others have forgotten about what happened until someone mentions it, it’s your turn now.”

Her words hit him like a piledriver and for the first time in probably like forever, he does feel slightly better. Even if only an infinitesimal amount and even he may won’t be forgiving himself anytime soon, but still, hearing those words coming from her mouth mean the whole world to him. 

“Why did you really come here, Liz?” The question is a tad out of place, but it feels like their previous conversations were made entirely to build up for this. 

Her frown melts away, replaced with somewhere between doubt and conflict. He holds her gaze for a minute, undeterred, then she turns her back on him to face the window once more. The suspense gnaws at him, yet still, he bides his time. 

“I have something to tell you,” she finally says, keeping her voice low.

“What is it?” He replies rather impatiently. When she seems to be hesitating, he adds, “And don’t beat around the bush, Liz.”

A deep breath, foot taps, a hand clutching at the hem of a buttoned-up dress and another deep breath. 

“Connor proposed to me.”

A beat. Then,

“Oh,” and it’s barely audible. And Noah feels like his heart has been torn from his chest, thrown into the ground, drags it through the mud then stomps on it for good measure. And that he feels worse and emptier than he was before she came here. “Congratulations.”

The words that come out of his mouth could have been his, because he can barely hear his own voice in this white noise. He always knew Connor and her were smitten with each other the moment she stepped into the hardware store for the first time, but Noah doesn’t expect it all would extend to marriage.

She looks over her shoulder, half-turned, one eye on him. “I wasn’t finished.”

Noah blinks at her, momentarily confused. “What?”

“I…” her voice wavers. When she turns to face him again, she is pinching the bridge of her nose. Her eyes scrunched up. “Ah, fuck this is never going to be easy. Long story short, I freaked out, made a scene at a restaurant, ended our three-year on-and-off relationship and went here.”

“Wait, what?”

Liz shrugs, guiltily, all Atlas-and-the-weight-of-the-world.

“Yeah,” she, much to his surprise (and concern), chokes a laughter, manic and loud. “Yeah, I did it. I fucked up the longest relationship I’ve ever had and broke my best friend’s brother’s heart because I wasn’t ready, because I’m an idiot.” When she does look at him, her eyes are bright. “Because I’m in love with someone else.”

For a brief, candid moment, Noah’s brows furrow as his mind goes to one of his former friends. Is it Dan? Ava? Or could it be Lucas? Because the last time he saw them together, they were pretty inseparable– although their relationship is strictly platonic as far as he’s concerned. Has that dynamic changed after he left? 

Then Noah realizes her eyes are still on him– and quite expectantly, that is, and that’s not… no, that can’t be right, can it? 

His demeanor shifts drastically as he stands there, stunned silence. Disarmed by her confession. 

He tries to speak, but his jaw won’t shut back to its place; his brains short-circuiting.

“Yes, I have loved you ever since I’ve known you, Noah Marshall,” Liz mutters when he remains silent. He can tell this is something she’s been holding in for a long time. “Even though we hadn’t spoken to each other for years after Jane, there hadn’t been a day that I didn’t think of you. When we finally reconnected three years ago, I wanted to say all these things to you, but..” she smiles wistfully. “Well, shit happened.”

“Why?” Of all the people you could have fallen in love with, why me? What he means to ask.

“Because you understand me like no one else; because you climbed up to my window to bring me your homemade grilled cheese sandwich when I was grounded when we were 8; because you actually listened and showed me that my vulnerability doesn’t always have to be my weakness; because I love the way you wear your beanie like 24/7 and the way you shake my hair whenever I say something stupidly amusing to you. Because it’s you!”

“No.” It’s a denial, it’s an attempt to ward her off from someone like him. It’s a lie. “No, no, no, no, no, Liz, you can’t fall in love with someone who’s-who’s mentally unstable or tried to kill you in the past, that’s like…” he gesticulates wildly. “Crazy! You are crazy!”

“I’m sorry, are you any better?”

“Of course not! But to forgive me is one thing, Liz, to love me, that’s a whole different level of insanity.” Noah begins to pace agitatedly around the room back and forth. “Fuck. I can’t hear this. Not from you.”

“Why not?” He sees the hurt expression on her face. Then interrupts just as soon as he opens his mouth. “Noah, I’m not asking for your answer this instance–heck, I’m not even asking you to reciprocate my feelings, but please don’t invalidate my emotions. Not when I waited for years to say it to you.”

“But this fucking complicates everything!” Noah points out.  

“Maybe. Maybe not, but you don’t know that,” she says resolutely, echoing his words from before. 

Noah doesn’t say anything in return.

She steps closer and slowly raises her palm to cup his cheek, an attempt to calm the storm within him. His hand grasps her wrist before she can make contact. 

“Noah–" 

His breathing quickens. Noah swallows and shakes his head.

“Liz, we can’t do this. No matter…” he sighs, his eyes boring into hers. Here he is, again, dangling on the edge of damnation, of what’s right and wrong. It’s wrong, yet he knows that she knows, from the heat and electricity that dance between them, from the pressure of his fingers that tell different stories, that he, too, wants the same thing.

“No matter what, Noah?” She murmurs, staring up at him with hopeful eyes. She really wants him to say it, does she?

He extricates her hand from him, taking steps back, putting as much distance he can from her. “Forget it.”

“Look, Noah, if you feel what I think you’re feeling, then what is it that you’re afraid of?" 

Noah whirls around to face her again. "Everything! Can’t you see that if we do this, the world will turn against us?" 

“Since when do you care about other people’s opinions?”

“I wasn’t worrying about me.”

"Well, I don’t give a fuck what others or this thrice-damned world thinks!” she exclaims mulishly. “After all we’ve been through, is it so wrong to be selfish, to follow your own heart just once– just once? Is it– don’t you care about what you want?”

“I want-” Noah stops. His hands tugging at his red beanie cap. “Never mind what I want.”

Her voice is quieter now. “What do you want, Noah?”

For an interminable moment, heavy with the promise of both release and regret, he only stares at her. Contemplating his options.

Perhaps loving her shouldn’t be the sin he thought it was, especially when she wants the same thing in return. Although he’s more than aware that he’s the last person in this world who deserves her affection, but deep down, Noah knows that he’ll never forgive himself if he didn’t run the risk now and spent the rest of his life wondering what it felt like instead.

“You.” Always you.

She holds his gaze. “Then have me.”

And as if an unknown force was taking over his body, Noah crosses the distance between them, his free hands cradling her face, drawing her close and kisses her.

It’s like a dam breaking, everything floods out. They do not kiss gently, desperation orchestrating their every move that the world around him grows distant and dim.  Twelve years of pining for each other, of secretive glances, of murder attempt and mutual misery and it all leads them to this. His thumb skimming the curve of her throat and feels her pulse leaps. He stops. Worrying if he’s crossed the line.

But Liz grabs the front of his clothes, pulling him even closer– as if they aren’t close enough– and kisses him back with a matching fervor. Her body pressed against his, warm and unfamiliarly familiar, and Noah swears his heart skips when she emits a quiet desperate noise that he happily swallows. 

Suddenly, Noah pulls back. “Liz, I’m sorr–” he says breathlessly.

“No, don’t you dare apologize,” she says firmly, her lips still tinged pink from their kiss. “I… I started this.” Her tongue darted out over her lips. “Are you okay with this?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I want this.” Noah’s hands dropped to her waist, his cheeks burned. He’s inexperienced, yes, and it shows, yes, but this is Liz. The last thing she does is to laugh at his face about it. “You?”

“You have no idea.”

His cheeks grow redder. “I’m, uh… now what?" 

"I think,” she leans in, tiptoeing, her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and playfully says, “I want you to kiss me again.”

Noah grins, more relaxed now knowing he has her consent. “I think I can provide that.”

He let her set the pace this time. Kissing him softly and sweetly, but as equally mind-blowing as the first time before the next thing he knows, they are kissing senselessly once more; the next thing he knows, she swipes her tongue on his lower lip. Drawing a surprised groan from him. His lips instinctively open up to her ministrations and he is rendered weak when Noah feels her warm tongue delves into his mouth. He tries to follow her example, but can hardly navigate through his own mind every time.

He can feel her fingers toying and tugging his beanie off, her nails grazing his scalp and his desire rocketed. And this time, Noah isn’t afraid to act, as his hands on her waist slowly glide upward; from her hips to her ribs, stopping just under her breasts which results in Liz’s breath to hitch in his mouth. His mouth travels down her jaw, the length of her neck, her collarbone. 

When he finds himself on the bed, on his back, and Noah has absolutely zero clue how or when he got that way. 

He sits up. Without thinking, grabs her hips to pull her onto his lap, hands rough, settling her against him as he tips her head upward and continues his onslaught on her neck. Her hands on his shoulders, coming up to the strands of his hair. Encouraging him, guiding him lower and lower until his mouth reaches her clothed breast. 

“Oh my god.” Liz’s eyes closed in pure bliss, caught up in the sensation, and ground her hips against him and, fucking hell, the friction feels so good and erotic and sets his entire being alight that Noah isn’t fast enough to stop the low, rumbling moan that comes from his mouth. 

“Fuck,” Noah swears and rolls his hips in response. At this rate, even if he wants to, he can’t hide the evidence of his physical desire, growing hard against her, making her produce these small high-pitched gasps every time his bulge brushes her just right, her pupils blown to hell and fucking fuck.

He is dry humping Liz. Liz. His sister’s best friend. His Achilles’ fricking heel. Good fuck, if Jane was still alive, what would she say about this?

“Noah?” She whispers.

He doesn’t realize he’s been lost in his own thoughts. “Sorry.” Noah mentally clears his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to space out on you back there.”

She stares at him, seemingly unconvinced. “Did I go too far?" 

"What? No, no, you are incredible. Don’t worry.” To prove his point, he gives her thigh a distracting squeeze. “Liz, what if I say I want more? What if I say that I want you?”

Liz is quiet for a while. “Are you sure?" 

"Yeah. I know the last time we met I said I wasn’t ready for dating and stuff, but it’s you. And if you’re up for it, I’m game, but if you–” Liz chuckles at his stammering. Whispering “You’re fucking adorable” as Noah groans and hides his face on the crook of her neck. “Liz, you’re fucking driving me out of my mind here.”

“Well, I’m game.” Liz leans in and kisses his temple. Noah can practically hear her smile from here. “You know, for someone who seemed adamant on pushing me away, you’re awfully eager.”

He grins, running his finger down her spine until every hair in her body stood up. “Keep teasing me, and you’ll regret it, Mortimer.”

“Bite me, Marshall.”

Noah does bite, literally, on that delicious spot under her ear before flipping her onto her back on the bed, making her giggle like a drunken schoolgirl; making her dress hike up to her thigh, just enough for him to see her underwear. He settles himself atop her, right between her legs. His hips and an unmistakable hardness press firmly against her soft thighs. 

This is it, then. The wheels are in motion now and Noah can scarcely believe this is happening.

She props up on her elbows and begins undoing the buttons of her dress with great speed, eyes never leaving his until she pulls him for another searing kiss. Then Liz raises her legs, wrapping them around his waist and rolls her hips once more.

She moans softly, as Noah’s mouth trails wet kisses down her throat, nipping and sucking as he goes, until it finds its way to her nipple. He bucks up into her, growling, as he takes her other nipple in his mouth. His shaky hand makes to drop her legs away from his waist, yanks the hem of her dress upward and dips between her legs, slipping past the waistband of her underwear to touch her that she jolts, gasping and moaning loudly altogether. 

Liz writhes, her hands clutching onto his sweatshirt like a lifeline, head tilted back as her hips involuntarily move against his hand, desperate for relief. Noah inserts two fingers, watching with heated gaze for her reaction as he pumps in and out, long and slow, short and fast. Pushes deeper, crooks his fingers a little. The rough pad of his thumb rubbing her clit in fast circles until her moan grows increasingly loud and she comes hard, shattering into Noah’s fingers. 

When it’s over, Liz is a panting, limp noodle.  She lays there, properly spent, smiling contently at the ceiling with heavy, bedroom eyes. Noah hovers above her, kissing her nose with a newfound satisfaction as he watches her trying to even her erratic breaths.

“Whoa.” She breathes out. “I guess I should have known those hands weren’t made only for kitchen knives.” And lazily wraps her arms around his neck. “Jesus, I’m wasted.”

His teeth gently nibbling her earlobe, his hand teasing her nipple again. “I’m nowhere near done with you.” Fingers trailing down to her warm, still over-sensitive slit again that Liz shudders like a flower. “Not even close.”

“I can’t–” And Noah freezes, thinking if he’s gone too far. “No more foreplay. Fuck me, Noah. Now. Please, I want you.”

In an uncontrolled frenzy, Noah pulls away from her, removes his sweatshirt while Liz assists with the buttons of his shirt. He works on his belt, freeing his member from the tight confines of his jeans and pulls her panties over her knees. Not bothering with the rest of her dress.

They kiss again as he repositions himself above her. Liz’s hand reaches down to grab him, guides the head toward her entrance, her legs once again settling around his waist. 

In his head, Noah mentally prepares himself, counts to five, then slides his girth into her. The two groan in unison at the joining.

“Jesus fuck.” Noah’s head flops forward, jaw clenching. He is inside her, and it feels a dizzying kind of spectacular. “Fuck, Liz, you feel so good.”

Below him, a crackling gasp escapes her lips, her mouth drops into a perfect circle as her head falls back to the bed and looking oh so beautiful. Noah begins to rock his hips into her, the strands of his brown hair brushing against her damp forehead, the parts of his brain that enable him to think slowly shut down. His hand wanders to touch every part of her body.

Everything is on fire. Everything feels so fucking good.

“Look at me.” She does, through lidded eyes, lashes heavy with arousal. “Say my name.” Noah never really thought he would be this vocal in bed, but there’s just something about Liz that brings this side of him. “Say it, Liz.”

“Noah,” Liz moans his name, clinging to him like mad, nails raking his back. “Noah, shit. Faster.”

Noah wordlessly obliges, liking the way she thrashes underneath him. Her breaths coming faster, higher so he moves even faster, pounding into her with reckless abandon just to show her how much strength he has. He finds himself growling rather animalistic against her skin, biting her shoulder. Feeling himself drawing closer and closer to the edge. He isn’t going to last any longer.

He puts a hand between them to rub her clit and Liz’s eyes roll back.

“Ooohh, god. N-noah!” she cries out, her words quickly morphed into a desperate wail. "Don’t stop, don’t stop, oh, please!”

Liz is a blubbering mess, screaming against the pillow. It is too much. The combination of his cock fucking her mercilessly and the friction his fingers provided on her sensitive spot is enough to make the girl convulse pathetically on the bed. 

When she comes, he follows not long after. Going rigid and groaning gutturally in her ear, emptying himself inside her.

When the ripples have passed, Noah collapses on top of her. Both panting and sweating from… whatever is it that just happened between them. Liz cradles him against her breasts, peppering tired kisses to his hair that is now sticking out wildly in every direction, locking him in her embrace, their left hands intertwining.

They stay like that for a few minutes, in a very much comfortable silence since she first set her foot here before Noah rolls to the side on the bed.

“Holy shit, we just had sex,” he says when he’s regained the power to speak again.

Liz chuckles and turns to face his side, sticking one of her legs between his while he pulls the covers over their forms. “Yep. Though, honestly, I never would have thought we’d end up having sex when I came here tonight.”

“Liz, I didn’t even know you’d be coming over. I can safely say tonight has been one hell of a surprise after another.”

She doesn’t say anything. At least not for a while.

“I hope you know I meant every word that I say to you,” she says kindly. “You’re not the villain in the story, but neither you are the hero. You are human, with your flaws and all, and I love you despite all of it.”

“Except you. You are an angel, Liz.”

“Noah, I basically turned down Connor’s marriage proposal, broke up with him and went straight into your arms in a matter of days.” She sighs guiltily. “No, we all just wear our demons differently.”

“Maybe. But you said it yourself, we are all just humans with our flaws and all. But you,” Noah turns and cups her cheeks in his hands. “you will always be an angel in my book. You saved me, Liz. When the whole world raised their torches and forks on me, you freaking saved me where you could have fed me to the mob. You’re the reason why I’m still here today and I love you for it, you hear me?” He pulls her into his arms when a tear starts to fall from her eye. 

“I’m so in love with you, Elizabeth Mortimer. Always have and always will.” He kisses her cheek. “You’re the kindest, most beautiful, the brightest human being I’ve ever known. I’m the luckiest person to have you be in love with me and if you’re up for it, I want to build a world around you.” He adds, “Instant noodles included.”

Liz laughs, still teary-eyed, shoves him playfully on the shoulder, feigning a glare. “You jerk. Always have the flair to ruin a moment.”

Noah chuckles. “Technically, you love instant noodles, so it’s only right, don’t you think?” She shoves him again. “And I’m your jerk now.”

“My jerk.” Yet she says it the same way someone says ‘my love’. “I love you too, Noah Marshall. And I want to build that world together with you.”

Noah smiles. Because he loves her and because for the first time in forever, his life makes fucking sense.  

Yes, he doesn’t know whether their relationship will last or will it crash and burn in the future, but at this exact moment, he’s happy and it seems that she does too. And that is all that matters now.

And if there is one thing that he’s sure of is that he knows that he doesn’t ever want to let this go. Not in a million years.

[boneshine]

Our boy, Arthur, what a baby boy. We love. So, it's been a while since our boy and his s/o have been able to get out and have an official date night without being bothered by a brutal society. But, Arthur figures a date night at home for the two if them should be prett great, right? Of course! But he over thinks everything, thinking it isnt the perfect night his s/o would want. However, they couldn't ask for anything better. Love ya 💕💕💕

“Painted Walls“ (Arthur Fleck x Reader)

Nestled in the haven of your shared apartment, date night was about to begin.

Arthur traced a smile into the kitchen counter as he thought, finger idly tapping a song. It matched the trickle of the rain outside. It was just a sprinkle but steadily growing harder, light pats of droplets that fogged up the tiny window hanging above the sink.

He hummed. Stormy weather… and turned back to the cabinets to search for what he could make for dinner.

It was a good thing he suggested staying indoors, anyway.

Before you moved in together, most of your dates would take place outside. It was a bit of sunshine in the drab gray of his life. At the diner for a bite, talking for hours until the streetlights buzzed on, followed with a nice walk to your apartment, a kiss…

That wasn’t the case lately. It was crazy out there. Gotham wasn’t safe.

Arthur could suffer through it, just like he did every day on his job. For as long as he could remember, he would come home tired and aching, absolutely drenched in the poison of this city. It would eat him alive, little by little. Pick a piece away until he had nothing left. It was horrible. But he was used to it. He expected it. He probably deserved it.

He would never want to risk you.

Even though you both now shared an apartment, you still had your little “dates”. He loved it. And it was why he had suggested you stay indoors. Yes, you had survived this long without him, but why would he ever chance it? If he had a choice, he’d never want you to leave.

Even he recognized that thought wasn’t healthy, but it didn’t stop him from thinking. Worrying.

If anything happened to you…

Arthur shook his head and went back to browsing through the cabinets, checking the soup labels. He didn’t eat much, but you both enjoyed simple meals. Years of taking care of his mother made him a reliable cook. It was never anything fancy, but food was food.

You deserved the best, but he could make do with what he offered.

The sound of running water drew his attention back to the bathroom where you were “freshening up” for the date and Arthur smiled to himself, turning on the stove top.

The dial clicked but the stove didn’t heat up.

Arthur’s smile fell. He turned the dial again. Nothing. “Oh, no…” he groaned, running a hand down his face, irritation settling in. As old as this oven was, it was prone to little fits now and again. Piece of junk. “Not now, you stupid…”

He knocked a hand against the top harshly, once, twice, a third time, his anger flaring. His foot lifted.

Piece of SHIT!

The thunderous rattle of his foot connecting with the side of the oven jarred him, had him stumble back at the force of it. He held himself against the wall and looked over to the bathroom, cautiously, to see if you heard.

The shower was still running.

Exhaling, Arthur sent a final glare at the stove and went over to the couch to reach for a cigarette. His hand flexed and stung.

Some date night I planned out. This place is falling apart.

He grimaced around a mouthful of smoke, breathing it in, running a hand through his hair. That fact was staring him in the face and suddenly couldn’t be unseen. It was impossible to miss. How… awful this building was. The cockroaches sent in complaints about the living conditions.

And you couldn’t leave. The rain—

But was it the rain?

They’re trapped. I trapped them.

The horrible thought shot through his brain and he choked on a breath, heaving in a gasp as he coughed, his mouth lined with ash and bitterness.

Why did you decide on this stupid apartment for a date—

Arthur shook off that thought and went back to the kitchen. Maybe he could salvage the meal. Cold soup wasn’t great, but he could think of something, couldn’t he?

No, you can’t! Stupid apartment—

He cringed, holding his head. Fuck, he was falling. His chest felt too tight. He wanted to cry, but he felt himself try to snicker and he swallowed it back. Outside isn’t better, it’s raining—

And it’s horrible, horrible, outside is just horrible, it’s so crazy out there, so many awful people—

The burn in his throat melded with the remnants of his cigarette. Screaming outside— Nobody’s civil anymore— It was so awful out there! That’s why they had to stay inside! What if they got hurt?

STUPID! APARTMENT!

It’s so cramped… I trapped them! I hate… Why is this all I can offer?

He pressed up against the room, his head thudding against the wall. He tried to focus on the paint, but the feeling dipped as he noticed the scrapes and dull color that darkened his mood.

I can’t make anything work…

He shuddered to collect himself, but felt a pressure on his back, a feather-light touch ghosting across his shoulder blades, and he flinched, turning to see…

You were standing there, hand outstretched.

“What’s wrong?” You looked worried.

A loaded question, he thinks. Everything is wrong.

Despite the world crashing down around him, Arthur put on a smile and shook his head. A chuckle slipped through his lips. “Nothin’,” he answered. Another chuckle that was a little louder, and he turned away from you as the panic rose. “E-Everything’s fine.”

“No, really, what’s wrong—"

“I came up with a new joke!” he interrupted, the wallpaper shaking as he stared at the unremarkable striped pattern that peeled away. What a shithole. “I …. You wanna… hmm-heheh… hear it?”

No answer.

“There once was a man… wh-who was… so fucked up… he kept… losing things…” his joke was muffled through his hand as he covered his mouth, but the comedy surely shone through, “He was so bad at it… h-he couldn’t even keep living!”

You weren’t laughing. But he kept hearing laughter.

Oh, that was him.

“And there were so… so many…” blow after blow, the laugh was punched out of him, made him wheeze, hands uselessly clutched at his throat as he choked. He took a breath and tried again, “b-b… better guys out th-there—”

His laughter rang out in the cramped, horrible little apartment.

“I—I’m—sorry,” he choked out, his forced grin twisted into that familiar grimace. Arthur’s fingers scrambled through his hair, gripping, breathing hard, but the chuckles clawed up his throat, ripped through bared teeth. “I’m sorry!” He was making it worse! When he turned around, the look on your face was nothing short of horrified.

Why would you stay with a wreck like me?

“I just… I… hah… wanted… a… ni-… nice evening with you! Please… Pl-Please don’t l-leave…”

“Arthur!”

Your hands, still wet from the shower, grabbed his wrists and he tried to twist away, but you held on and he froze.

His throat burned and his attention was now on the dingy floor, his clumsy feet, the chipped walls…

You were saying something, and he struggled to focus on what it was as he coughed, tried to calm his breathing. It was soothing and you were gently petting his hands. The scent of soap. Clean. Soft. His head tilted to see the concern painted across your face.

“It’s okay, Arthur. It’s okay…” you kept telling him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he came back to himself, blinking back a tear. He sniffled. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I… ruined the date night—”

“No, you didn’t!”

“But—”

Your eyes locked with his and he grew quiet while your hand reached out and cradled his cheek. “You didn’t,” you repeated.

Arthur swallowed his words. But I did… He broke from your gaze and looked at the ground. He cleared his throat. “I, um… I just… I want to make you happy, a-and I… got a little,” he huffed, shaking his head, “carried away.”

Your hand was still on his cheek, and you drew his attention back to you and your smile. “You’re so sweet. But you shouldn’t work yourself up over this. I’m just happy if I’m with you.”

Arthur blinked. “Happy…” he repeated dreamily. Just with me? “You really mean that?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?” the whisper left him before he could stop it.

He was such an idiot. Why would he ever question the one good thing that’s ever happened to him in his entire fucking life? Nothing had ever made him so happy. He should be thankful that you were still here. You hadn’t left. You hadn’t laughed at him. You didn’t look at him like he was some freak.

You shook your head, leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth. Let him tilt forward and reciprocate with another on your lips.

His world dissolved down to your taste as you pulled back.

“Because I love you.”

You’re too great to stay with someone this fucking broken. Wake up.

“I don’t know why,” he said, desperately wishing he would stop asking for an explanation while he still had you. Why couldn’t he just be glad that you stuck around?

“There’s plenty of reasons. Did you want me to write a list?”

Arthur gave a snort. He wanted to believe you, but that was crazy. “You mmm… might be as messed up as I am,” he mumbled out, but his lips twitched.

You smiled back. “You got a problem with that?”

Arthur’s mouth finally, cautiously, stretched into a real smile and he wrapped you up in his arms. Never to let go. “No,” he breathed.

His joke of a life wasn’t so bad if you were the punchline.

[jokersredheadedqueen]

My love

Arthur x reader

Reader is a neighbor of Arthur’s and they cendal a new friendship until it becomes more.

•

Another bad day. I tug my bag filled with my heavy school books and my change of clothes from work. I don’t even know why I get up in the mornings. All the sun brings me anymore is a pain in the light. No one in Gotham cares anymore.

I unlock my door to my apartment and notice eyes looking my way. I peek down the hall and see a man whom I’ve seen for many years. I wave my hand in his direction tearing him away from his trace. He gasps slightly and smiles shyly with his head down.

The next day seems to end the same way. I come home from another shitty day, see my neighbor, give a wave, blush, and then completely retreat inside. I throw myself on the couch thinking about the man’s eyes. They hold more than what he gives off. He’s troubled and is trying to escape.

A knock on my door pulls my attention away from my own thoughts. I stand opening the door revealing the man from down the hall. “Hi.” I tilt my head smiling. “Hi.” He sways on his heels unsure of himself.

“I’m Arthur.” I smile and lean on my door frame. “I’m (y/n).”

Arthur stares at me and looks down smiling. “Sorry. I-” His voice stings out and suddenly loud laughter flies out of his mouth. He covers his mouth with his shoulder and coughs on his breath. I place my hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” He holds up his hand as another fit of laughter runs through him. He gives me a card.

Please excuse my laughter. I have a condition.

I meet my eyes with his cackling figure again. He beings to walk away but I grab his arm pulling him inside my home. I pull him close shocking myself as I lightly rub his back calming him slowly. “Focus on your breathing. Think about something nice. Something calming Arthur.”

And after a few minutes, Arthur started to catch his breath and relax under my touch. “I’m sorry. I can’t control my-“ “you don’t have to explain yourself, Arthur.” He smiles at me and I notice his eyes become lighter.

•

From then on the two were together any chance they were allowed.

(Y/n) will to check on Penny if Arthur was running late. She’d buy them groceries knowing Arthur had more on his plate than anyone else. Penny wanted her around more and more each day.

“I want you to marry someone, Happy. You deserve a good woman.” Arthur laughs. “That is if a woman actually wants to marry me, mother. Plus I need to be here for you.” Penny shrugs “well the two of you could move here. I sure she wouldn’t mind staying with me.” Arthur laughs at his mother’s plans.

“Sure mother. When the opportunity comes I will.” “Well, you’re missing it now.” “Who mother? Oh, please tell me who you could’ve found. Who do you talk to?” Arthur continues to laugh as he cooks dinner for his mother.

“(Y/n), dear. She’s just wonderful. I know she would make you so happy.” He nods. “She already does. She’s my friend.” Penny smirks at her son playfully. “I don’t buy it. I’m going to call her over for dinner.”

“Mother no!” Arthur rushes to her but she’s already speaking with Arthur’s angel on the other side of the line.

“Of course! Yes, he’s here. Wonderful dear! See you soon!” Arthur places his hand on his face. “I can’t see her right now! Oh my god! My shirt!” Arthur looks down seeing his shirt filthy with today’s work of face paint and dirt from being pushed on the ground by kids.

He quickly changes into a green button-up and goes back to cooking like nothing happened when (y/n) walks in the door.

“Hi, Artie. I brought some brownies.” He smiles at her blushing slightly and gets the tray from her hands. “I like this shirt.” She says pulling at the collar and then moving swiftly out of way to sit by his mother in the living room.

•

I knock on Arthur’s door in the use of some laughter. He opens the door, smiling at me but that soon falls when he sees my face. ”(y/n) what's wrong? Did someone hurt you?” I smile and roll my eyes thinking of the asshole who I went out with.

”No Arthur. I've just had a rough night. If I'm being honest I don't want to be alone.” Without another second Arthur pulls me inside his home.

The TV on and piles of cigarette butts on the ashtray. ”You know you're always welcome here.” I turn to my friend I've come to care for so deeply. ”You’re too sweet Arthur.”

I kick my heels off and plant myself on his couch close to his cushion, and he soon joins.

Time goes on without a word making my mind run.

”You’re looking, good baby. Can't wait to see what's under all these threads.” yeah. The very first words my date opened with. Great start right?

”What are you thinking about honey?” I look over to see Arthur with the expression of complete concern. ”I swear if someone hurt you I will… Well, I am-” ”Arthur! No. I promise I'm okay. I just didn’t have a good night.” “What happened?” I shrug and pull my knees up to my chest feeling the burning of the unreleased tears. “I just don’t- I don’t get why someone can’t...love me.” I let my eyes flow with tears. “I’m sorry. This is dumb.” I wipe my tears away and try to gather myself.

Arthur grabs my hands in his and smiles softly at me. “Talk about it.” I looked down at his hands and run my thumb over a single scar on his finger. This man has been the only one who has cared for me for the longest time.

“I just can’t seem to find anyone who loves me, Arthur.” He shakes his head never dropping eye contact with me. “You have someone. I promise you.” I shake my head laughing at the situation. “Arthur if you would’ve seen him tonight you would have called me stupid. I should’ve known he was going to be an asshole. I mean he’s a friend of Randall’s! It was dumb to even think he would want anything other than to fuck my brains out! He was such an ass!” I rant throwing my hands up in rage.

“FUCKING NO ONE FOR ME! I SWEAR IF ANOTHER MAN COMES UP TO ME-” My entire back is pushed flat onto the cushions and a pair of lips is on my own. I wrap my arms around his neck and move my lips against his. He pulls away and looks at me with those beautiful eyes withholding everything in him.

“Arthur.”

“I love you.”

•

I sit on the side of the tub in my bra watching my lover dance around dying his hair green. “You still haven’t told me why you picked green.” He laughs and shakes his wet hair at me. “Why not darling? Time to be bold.” “Oh yeah that bold alright.” I grab a towel and wipe the specks or water off my face. “Jessica and I are going out but I told her we have to be back to watch your show. So don’t worry. I am not going to miss it.” Arthur smiles and pulls me close enclosing our bodies in a passionate embrace. “I can’t wait for you to see me. It will be… hm… KILLER!” He chuckles kissing me once more.

•

“So this is the guy you’ve been seeing? Isn’t he like...Old?” “He’s not old! He’s like a wine. A tasty wine.” My friend rolls her eyes laughing as she watches Arthur with me.

“I’m just trying to make people laugh.” “And how’s that working out for you?” Maury asks him mockingly to which Arthur just laughs in his own way.

“You sure do have a taste (y/n).” She laughs as she pops another cigarette in her mouth.

“Well… ever since I killed those 3 guys on the subway.”

Wait. What?

Jessic looks at me shocked while I only get on my knees and turn the volume up. “Come on Arthur. Don’t make jokes.”

“Why should we believe you?” “Because I’ve got nothing left to lose. Nothing can hurt me anymore. My life is nothing but a comedy!” “Let me get this straight. You think killing those guys is funny?” Arthur nodded with a small smile.

Nothing left to lose? A fucking comedy?

What about me?

“I do. And I’m tired of pretending that it’s not.”

“I...I think I understand. You did this to what… start a movement?”

“Oh come on Mur-ray. Do I look like the type of clown to start a movement? I killed those guys because they were awful! Everybody is awful these days. It’s enough to make anyone crazy.”

“Ah, so that’s it you’re crazy. That’s your defense? What would your family think about you? About this?”

“Well my mother’s gone, I don’t have a father, and I know my doll face wouldn’t judge me.” Arthur waves to the camera and winks. “Hi honey!”

Oh god.

“Well I’ll tell you this not everyone… not everyone is awful… just like your eh… dollface.” Arthur glares at Murray. “You’re awful Murray.” “Me? I’m awful. Oh yeah? How am I awful?”

“Playing my video. Inviting me to come on the show. You just wanted to make fun of me. And she knew it too. Oh my dollface told me to watch out. You’re just like the rest of them!”

“Now you don’t know the first thing about me pal. Look what happened because of what you did. You think your girl will take you now? There are riots out there. Two policemen are in critical condition. You’re laughing. You’re laughing! Someone was killed today because of what you did!”

Arthur nods his head smiling. “I know.”

“(Y/n). Is he joking?” Jessica asks watching the screen. “I- I don’t know. I hope so.”

“How about another joke Murray?”

“No I think we’ve had enough of your jokes!”

“What do you get when you cross a mentally ill loner with a society that abandons him and treats him like trash?!”

Arthur screams in a rage. “Oh honey. No.”

“I’LL TELL YOU WHAT YOU GET! YOU GET WHAT YOU FUCKING DESERVE!” Arthur pulls out a revolver and shoots Murray in the head.

Jessica and I scream and I cover my eyes with my hands. Arthur proceeds to stand, shoot Murray two more times, and skips to the camera. “And remember that-“ the program cuts blank.

“(Y/n)?” Jessica rests her hand on my shoulder. “I-I need to find him. He’s not safe.” “Are you kidding me? You aren’t safe! He’s going to come after you!” I grab my purse and rush to the door. “He won’t hurt me.” (Y/n)! No stop! WAIT!” Jessica tries to chase after me but fails.

I race into the burning streets seeing chaos all around Gotham. I see a police car pass me and everything goes in slow motion.

Arthur sits in the back of the car smiling at the burning city. “Arthur.” I’m not sure why, but I race after the car withholding my Clown.

Suddenly an abundance crashes into the police car.

“Move! I need to get to him! MOVE NOW!” I come to Arthur’s body laying limp on the hood of the car. “No Arty. No! I’m so sorry. You’re right darling. You’re right! Everyone is just awful! I’m so sorry I didn’t see it!”

A hand comes up and clasps my cheek. “Aw dollface. Would you just look at how beautiful?” I press my face into his hand smiling. “You’ve got blood on you mouth.” I giggle getting an idea.

I take my pointer fingers and run the blood up his cheeks creating his faded red smile. “Much better.” Arthur smiles and kisses me passionately eating cheers from his followers. “Call me Joker darling.” I nod smiling at my love. He is finally free. He has nothing else to lose! Not until Arkham came and stole him in the following hours.

•

I drink another cup, and then another, plus a bottle, then another cup. I stumble to the elevator clicking the top button. The chime soon dings and I strut off up onto the stairs leading towards the roof.

I see the city lights in the sky illuminating others hopeful dreams that will only get crushed in Gotham. No one ever thrives in this city. Not if you’re someone who is a regular.

I giggle sipping my bottle and waltzing over to overlook the city. “How could you leave me here? HOW FUCKING COULD YOU?!” I scream into the darkened night. I look down to see Gotham still in the chaos caused by Arthur’s big reveal.

I laugh and jump on the edge. “You said you loved me.” I picked up one of my feet and hop to the other giggling. “You said you’d never leave me.” I edge closer.

I could do it. I could just fall.

I pick my foot off the edge and hover it over the big city. My breath catches.

Do it. There isn’t a reason to wake up if you don’t have him now.

“Okay.” I step one inch closer ready to plunge.

“Careful. It’s a long way down. You might look like an angel, but I’m sure you won’t sprout wings to save yourself.”

I spin around peering into the darkness of the night.

“Who’s there?” I slur out.

Footsteps grow and a red clad pants leg emerged from the shadows. I follow the long skinny leg up the body to the face finding it painted with my kings features.

I shake my head and start laughing. “No. No. Stop it! They took you! YOU LEFT ME!”

His smile drops and he walks closer. “Darling. It’s me. Joker.” I laugh and turn around starting to fall forward into the air… right until someone’s arms wrap around my waist pulling me off the edge entirely.

“Are you an idiot (y/n)?!” His voice boomed as he screams in my face. I stare at his eyes and see my entire past. My love. My home.

“Arthur?”

He looks down slightly and shakes his head with a small smile. “Sure love. It’s me.” I cling to him and let my tears flow. My love. He is home.