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rafesapologist · 8 months ago

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the boy is mine ─ rafe cameron; chapter two

summary: you were an erudite kook with her life ahead of her, very highly sought after by almost every man from figure 8 all the way to the cut. but you only wanted rafe cameron, and just in the typical nature of getting everything you wanted, you were going to have him.

warnings: suggestive themes, mentions of touching, mentions of alcohol

You woke up the next morning full of energy and excitement, a surge of confidence pulsing through you in a way you hadn’t felt before. The memory of the previous night lingered in your mind, a tantalizing promise of what was to come. After you had returned home, you had spent hours meticulously preparing yourself for the day ahead. You had carefully placed your hair in rollers, ensuring each curl would fall just right, and applied a face mask to sleep in, hoping it would leave your skin glowing and flawless by morning. Today, you needed to look your absolute best.

The anticipation of possibly running into Rafe at Sarah's house added an extra layer of excitement. You wanted to make an impression, to stand out in his memory. It was more than just looking good; it was about exuding confidence and poise, about being memorable.

You sprang out of bed, feeling a burst of determination. The morning sun streamed through your window, casting a warm, golden light across your room. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and smiled, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

In the bathroom, you carefully removed the face mask, revealing soft, radiant skin beneath. You took your time getting ready, savoring each step of the process. The rollers came out next, and you gently tousled your hair until it fell in perfect waves around your face. Makeup followed, applied with a precision that reflected your dedication to perfection.

Lastly was your outfit, and you knew it had to be jaw-dropping. You rummaged through your walk-in closet, fingers trailing over fabrics and textures as you searched for the perfect attire. Before anything else, you slipped on your favorite bathing suit—a berry blue string bikini that hugged your body in all the right places, leaving just enough to the imagination. It was bold, daring, and exactly the statement you wanted to make.

You stood in front of your closet, contemplating your options. The light from the window filtered through sheer curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Your eyes landed on a short, form-fitting sundress that was pure white, like freshly fallen snow. The dress promised to highlight your tan and contrast perfectly with the vibrant bikini beneath.

Slipping into the sundress, you admired how it clung to your curves, the delicate fabric whispering against your skin. The white dress exuded an innocent charm while hinting at the allure of what lay beneath. You added a few touches to enhance the look—a pair of gold earrings that caught the light with every movement and a matching bracelet that jingled softly with each step.

Standing before the mirror, you took in the complete picture. The white sundress and berry blue bikini created a striking image, a balance of purity and boldness that made you feel both confident and captivating. You added a touch of lip gloss, a hint of shimmer that made your smile even brighter, and a spritz of your favorite perfume, a scent that lingered in the air like a promise.

You knew that you had a few hours to spare, so you spent your time trying to calm your nerves, each moment stretching out like a thread in a delicate tapestry. You packed with meticulous care: sunscreen to guard against the sun's embrace, sunglasses to shield your eyes from its dazzling glare, and shots to fortify your courage for the encounter you both dreaded and longed for. You knew facing Rafe Cameron would require more than just poise; it would require liquid bravery, so you prepared accordingly.

As the minutes slipped by, you double-checked your bag, ensuring every essential was in place. The anticipation thrummed beneath your skin, an electric current of excitement and anxiety. You could almost feel the cool blue water of Sarah's pool, the sun’s warm caress, and the mingled sounds of laughter and splashing.

By the time you were ready to leave, your heart pounded with an eager rhythm. You hurried out the door, each step quick and purposeful. The morning light spilled over you, casting everything in a golden hue that seemed to shimmer with promise. You left little room for your parents’ inevitable questions, offering only a swift, “Goodbye, love you!” as you breezed past them.

Their voices called after you, faint echoes in the morning air, but you were already moving forward, the door clicking shut behind you like a final punctuation mark. The world outside was vibrant and full of potential, each step bringing you closer to Sarah’s house and the day’s unfolding adventures. The thought of seeing Rafe again sent a shiver of anticipation through you, blending with the fresh evening air into a heady mix of expectation and excitement.

The ride to Sarah's house felt quick, though you were sure it was your nerves speeding up time. As you pulled into her driveway, you found yourself gawking at the sprawling white mansion ahead. You knew she was a Kook, but the scale of her family's wealth hadn't truly registered until now. The mansion stood like a gleaming palace, its grandeur almost surreal.

Hopping out of your car, you felt a fluttering excitement mixed with anxiety. Your nerves burst in the pit of your stomach as you approached the front door. Hesitantly, you knocked, the sound echoing in the still air. Stepping back, you crossed your arms, trying to contain the nervous energy coursing through you while you waited.

The door finally swung open, revealing Sarah herself, her smile bright and welcoming. She looked effortlessly chic, her blonde hair catching the sunlight like spun gold.

"Hey! Come on in," she greeted you warmly, pulling you into a hug.

"Hey, Sarah!" you replied, returning the embrace. "Your house is...wow."

She laughed, a musical sound that immediately put you at ease. "Thanks. It's home, I guess. I hope you're okay with a few other people being here. Rafe decided to invite his friends without telling me." She rolled her eyes, but your heart fluttered at the mention of his name. The realization that he was there sent a fresh wave of nerves through you, your excitement now tinged with anxious anticipation.

As you followed Sarah through the grand foyer, the mansion felt almost surreal in its grandeur. The air inside was cool and refreshing, a sharp contrast to the sun’s heat outside, each step on the polished marble floor echoing your heightened heartbeat. The rooms you passed were filled with elegant furniture and art, each piece meticulously placed, reflecting a wealth that was as old as it was vast.

Stepping out onto the patio, the sight before you took your breath away. The pool sparkled like a sapphire, its surface kissed by the sunlight, surrounded by lush greenery and perfectly manicured lawns. A few people lounged by the water, their laughter and conversation blending harmoniously with the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant hum of cicadas. The air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass, a sensory reminder of the opulence that enveloped you.

Sarah led you to a set of cushioned chairs near the pool. "Make yourself at home," she said, her gesture inviting you to relax. "Do you want something to drink? We’ve got everything."

You nodded, trying to steady the nerves that fluttered in your chest. "Sure, that’d be great. Surprise me."

As Sarah walked over to the bar to fetch drinks, you took a deep breath and let your eyes wander, absorbing the atmosphere. The water in the pool shimmered under the sun's golden light, and the sounds of distant laughter and soft conversation created a soothing backdrop. Your thoughts drifted to Rafe, wondering how he would react upon seeing you.

Before Sarah got back, you snuck a shot from your tote, swallowing it quickly and savoring the burn as it went down. You made sure nobody saw you, tucking the small bottle back into your bag with a swift, practiced motion. The liquid courage began to warm your veins, steadying your nerves just as Sarah returned.

She handed you a glass filled with a burgundy liquid, a pleased smile on her face. "I hope you like vodka. These are my favorite," she chirped, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

You took the glass, surprised and delighted. "Actually, vodka-crans are my favorite, so you did well," you said with a smile, lifting the glass to take a sip.

The tart, sweet flavor washed over your tongue, blending perfectly with the warmth from the shot you had taken moments before. Sarah settled into the chair beside you, her presence warm and comforting.

As you both sat there, the sunlight playing on the water's surface, you felt a sense of calm begin to settle over you. The distant laughter and soft music created a serene backdrop, blending with the scents of blooming flowers and the gentle rustle of the wind through the trees. Your earlier nerves began to dissipate, replaced by a growing sense of anticipation.

As the energy on the patio began to wane, the sound of male voices emanating from inside the house caught your attention like a sudden gust of wind. You turned to Sarah, your expression knit with confusion, prompting her to follow your gaze and investigate the noise.

"It's just Rafe and his friends," she groaned, her frustration palpable as she tossed her sunglasses back over her eyes.

The voices grew louder as they approached, the sound of laughter and conversation becoming more distinct with each passing moment. Your heart quickened its pace, a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling within you like a tempest.

Sarah sighed, her irritation evident as she shook her head slightly. "I swear, they always manage to show up and cause a scene."

You watched as the sliding patio doors opened, revealing Rafe and his entourage. They strolled out with an air of confidence, beers in hand, their laughter echoing off the walls. Rafe led the group, his presence commanding attention effortlessly. His stride was casual yet purposeful, his gaze scanning the patio until it landed on you.

For a fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still. Your breath caught in your throat as you met Rafe's intense gaze, the weight of his scrutiny sending a thrill down your spine. In the daylight, he looked even more striking, his tanned skin bathed in sunlight, his crisp white shirt accentuating the lean lines of his physique.

"Rafe, can you not take over everything for once?" Sarah called out, her voice a mix of exasperation and affection. She rose from her chair, her arms crossed as she approached her brother.

Rafe offered a nonchalant shrug, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of his lips. "Just having a little fun, Sarah. You know how it is."

His friends dispersed around the patio, some heading for the pool while others made a beeline for the bar. The atmosphere shifted, an infectious energy buzzing in the air. Rafe lingered by the door, his gaze lingering on you like a beam of sunlight.

"Nice to see you again, Y/N," Rafe remarked, his voice smooth like honey, with a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His gaze lingered on you, his eyes tracing the lines of your dress with an intensity that made your cheeks flush hot with embarrassment. You couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine as you wondered what thoughts were crossing his mind, oblivious to what lay beneath the fabric.

"Hi, Rafe," you replied, your voice coming out almost sheepishly as you struggled to maintain eye contact with him. Your heart hammered in your chest like a wild drumbeat, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. You found yourself holding your breath, waiting for his next move, unsure of what to expect but unable to tear your gaze away from his magnetic presence.

"Where's your Yale friend? She busy trying to get an acceptance letter or something?" Rafe's voice, laced with mischief, broke through the chatter like a sudden gust of wind. His gaze lingered on you, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, as if he found amusement in your presence.

"Rafe! Leave her alone," she interjected, her voice carrying a hint of exasperation. She shot her brother a reproachful glare, a silent warning not to push further. "Sadie couldn't come because she was sick, okay?"

Rafe's smirk softened into a grin, a glint of mischief still dancing in his eyes as he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. No need to get defensive," he replied, his tone teasing but affectionate.

Rafe finally made his way over to his friends gathered at the pool, his movements exuding a casual grace that seemed effortless. With practiced ease, he stripped off his shirt, revealing a chiseled physique that drew your gaze like a magnet. You couldn't tear your eyes away as he discarded the shirt, the fabric landing with a soft thud on the ground beside him.

Undeniably, you found yourself gawking at him, your heart pounding in your chest as you drank in the sight before you. The way his abs were perfectly defined, each muscle carved with precision, made your breath catch in your throat. His bronzed skin seemed to gleam in the sunlight, accentuating every contour and curve of his body. As he moved, the veins in his biceps stood out like a network of rivers, a testament to his strength and vitality.

You felt a sudden wave of weakness wash over you, your knees threatening to buckle beneath you as you struggled to maintain your composure. Your eyes followed his figure as he strode confidently to the edge of the pool, the anticipation building with each step. With a fluid motion, he dove into the water, the surface rippling and shimmering in the sunlight as he disappeared beneath the surface.

You watched, transfixed, as he resurfaced, joining his friends in whatever game they were playing. The laughter and splashing echoed in the air, a backdrop to the scene unfolding before you. Despite the playful atmosphere, your thoughts remained fixed on Rafe, his presence casting a spell over you that you couldn't shake.

You were brought out of your trance by the sound of Rafe's friend calling out to you and Sarah, his voice cutting through the air like a playful challenge. "Hey, you guys wanna join? We're playing water polo and we need another player!"

Your eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected invitation, uncertainty flickering in your gaze as you glanced over at Sarah. You weren't sure how to respond, torn between the desire to join in the fun and the reluctance to disrupt your carefully arranged appearance.

"Well, I can't," Sarah replied with a wry grin, her tone laced with humor. "I just got my hair bleached; I can't get it wet!"

Your heart raced as you felt the weight of their collective gaze, their expectant stares burning into your skin like a spotlight. The pressure to join in was palpable, amplified by the intensity of Rafe's gaze as he watched you with unabashed interest.

Despite the overwhelming urge to retreat, you knew that backing out now would only lead to disappointment, both from the boys and from yourself. With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly agreed to join, your voice tinged with reluctance but determination.

"Alright, I guess I'll play, but just one round," you conceded, the sound of the boys' cheers and excitement washing over you like a tidal wave.

As you stood up to join them, you couldn't help but steal a glance at Sarah, who offered you a sympathetic look in return. The unspoken understanding between you was comforting, a silent reassurance that you weren't alone in this moment of vulnerability.

With a deep breath, you turned your attention back to the pool, steeling yourself for what was to come. Slowly, you began to strip off your sundress, the fabric slipping from your shoulders like a whisper. Your movements were hesitant, tentative, as you prayed that none of the boys were still paying attention.

But as the dress slid down to your hips, you couldn't help but look up, your gaze inadvertently meeting Rafe's. Time seemed to freeze as you caught him staring back at you, his expression caught between surprise and admiration, his mouth slightly agape.

Heat flooded your cheeks as you quickly averted your gaze, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumbeat. The intensity of his stare lingered like a lingering echo, sending a shiver down your spine as you hurriedly finished removing your dress, the fabric pooling at your feet in a silent surrender to the inevitable.

As you finally stood there, fully exposed in your berry blue bikini, you could feel Rafe's gaze burning into you, more intense and unyielding than ever. It was as if everything else around him faded into background noise, leaving only the sharp focus of his eyes on you. He made no effort to hide his scrutiny, his stare lingering on every inch of your exposed skin, making you feel both powerful and vulnerable under his watchful eyes.

You watched, your heart pounding, as his tongue slowly grazed his bottom lip, a deliberate and almost predatory motion. His eyes darkened, and he took his lower lip into his mouth, biting down on it subtly. The action was slow and deliberate, sending a shiver down your spine. His mouth pressed together afterward, as if he were physically trying to restrain himself from reacting more openly, to keep his jaw from dropping to the floor in sheer astonishment.

The moment stretched on, thick with unspoken tension. You felt your own breath hitch, caught between the thrill of his attention and the anxiety of being so completely seen. Finally, summoning every ounce of confidence you had, you gave him a small, almost imperceptible smile before turning your gaze away, stepping towards the edge of the pool. The cool water beckoned, a welcome respite from the heat of Rafe's gaze.

You took a deep breath and dove in, the water embracing you, its coolness momentarily washing away the intensity of the moment. As you surfaced, you felt a sense of liberation, the water providing a comforting shield from the penetrating stares above. You ran your fingers through your hair, slicking it back, and allowed yourself a moment to adjust to the new sensation.

The boys were already dividing into teams, their laughter and shouts filling the air, a stark contrast to the charged silence that had just passed. You swam over to join them, your heart still pounding but now with a mix of excitement and adrenaline.

"Alright, let's get started!" one of Rafe's friends called out, tossing the ball into the center of the pool. You positioned yourself strategically, ready to play, feeling a surge of determination.

As the game progressed, you could feel Rafe's presence in the pool, his movements fluid and confident. Whenever he came near, the air seemed to crackle with electricity, a silent acknowledgment of the connection that had sparked between you. He was an agile player, his strength and speed undeniable, and you found yourself both admiring and competing with him.

At one point, you found yourself face to face with him, the ball between you. His eyes locked onto yours, a mischievous glint in them, and for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, the rest of the world fading into the background. You lunged for the ball, your bodies colliding in the water, a tangle of limbs and splashes.

"Nice try," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, as he managed to wrestle the ball away, his touch lingering on your arm just a second longer than necessary.

You grinned, a mixture of frustration and exhilaration coursing through you. "Don't get too cocky," you shot back, determined to hold your own. The two of you paused for a moment, the world around you dissolving into a blur of motion and sound. His eyes locked onto yours, and for an instant, everything else faded away.

The water shimmered between you, rippling with the energy of your silent exchange. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your breath mingling with the cool air as you tried to steady your racing heart. The intensity of his gaze was magnetic, pulling you into an unspoken conversation that felt both dangerous and thrilling.

Rafe's lips curved into a cocky grin, a silent promise and challenge in his eyes. He held your gaze for a moment longer, the air thick with tension, before he turned away with a fluid grace. His movement was almost predatory, a display of confidence and strength that left you breathless.

As he walked away, the sunlight glinted off the droplets of water on his skin, creating a halo of shimmering light. You stood there, rooted to the spot, the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears. The game continued around you, voices and laughter blending into a distant hum, but your focus remained on the lingering sensation of his presence.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, a mix of irritation at his arrogance and excitement at the intensity of his attention. The undeniable attraction simmered beneath the surface, leaving you craving more of the electrifying connection. The water, cool and refreshing, was a stark contrast to the heat of your thoughts and the fire he had ignited within you.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to regain composure, and joined the game once more. But now, every move, every splash, every moment was charged with the memory of that gaze, that grin, and the tantalizing possibility of what might come next.

"Okay, I'm done!" you declared, throwing your hands on your hips as you tried to catch your breath. You realized you were too weak to keep going. "I'm gonna go get a drink. You guys keep playing." With that, you exited the pool, feeling the cool air against your damp skin.

Grabbing your towel from the nearby chair, you wrapped it around your hips, securing it with a tight knot. You glanced at Sarah, who had been watching the game from the sidelines. "Where are the drinks?" you asked, your voice slightly hoarse from exertion.

She motioned toward the kitchen with a smile. "Just inside. Help yourself."

Nodding in gratitude, you made your way inside, the sounds of the pool fading behind you. The cool tile underfoot was a welcome contrast to the heat of the afternoon sun. Entering the kitchen, you immediately headed for the fridge, your mind focused solely on finding something to quench your thirst.

You pulled open the fridge door and, to your relief, found a row of cold water bottles neatly lined up. You snatched one, twisted off the cap, and tilted your head back, taking large, satisfying gulps. The cold water was refreshing, soothing your parched throat and cooling you from the inside out.

As you lowered the bottle, you closed your eyes for a moment, savoring the sensation. The kitchen was quiet, a peaceful contrast to the lively scene outside. You could still hear faint laughter and splashing from the pool, but in here, it was just you and the cool, calming stillness. You leaned against the counter, catching your breath and letting your thoughts settle.

The brief solitude gave you a chance to process everything that had happened: the unexpected intensity of Rafe's gaze, the way your heart had raced under his scrutiny, and the unfamiliar feelings he stirred within you. It was exhilarating and unsettling all at once, leaving you with a sense of anticipation you hadn't felt before.

You took another sip of water, lost in your thoughts, when the sound of approaching footsteps drew your attention. You looked up to see Rafe standing in the doorway, his presence instantly commanding the room. His hair was damp, and water glistened on his skin, catching the light in a way that made your breath hitch once more.

"Couldn't handle the game?" he teased, his voice low and slightly breathless, matching the intensity of his gaze. You were caught by surprise at the sound of his voice, feeling small and vulnerable in his presence.

Peering up at him in silence for a brief second, you felt your mind racing as he stood over you, his eyes never leaving yours. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of charged silence. "I just needed a drink," you managed to reply, your voice softer than intended, almost a whisper.

Rafe nodded at your reply, a small hum escaping the depths of his throat. "You were pretty good out there, Princeton," he commented, the nickname carrying a subtle edge, as if he was both taunting and admiring your goody-two-shoes ways. His voice was a velvet drawl, laced with a challenge that made your heart flutter.

A flush of embarrassment warmed your cheeks at the unexpected compliment and the moniker he’d chosen for you. Clearing your throat, you averted your eyes to the tiled floor, feeling the intensity of Rafe's gaze burning into you like the summer sun. "Oh, thanks," you laughed half-heartedly, the sound more a nervous flutter than genuine amusement. "Sports aren't really my thing, so..."

He leaned closer, just enough for his presence to envelop you, the faint scent of chlorine and his cologne mingling in the air between you. "Could've fooled me," he murmured, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You held your own out there."

The compliment, however backhanded it might have been, sent a thrill through you. You risked a glance up, meeting his piercing blue eyes that seemed to dance with amusement and something else, something darker and more compelling. The kitchen, despite its airy openness, felt suddenly intimate, a bubble separating the two of you from the rest of the world.

"Well, maybe I’m a fast learner," you said, trying to match his nonchalance. Your fingers toyed with the edge of your water bottle, the cool condensation a stark contrast to the heat blooming in your chest.

Rafe's smirk deepened, his eyes never leaving yours. "Maybe you are," he agreed softly, the words hanging in the charged air between you. "But I have a feeling you're good at a lot of things, Princeton."

The way he said it, with that low, almost predatory purr, made your pulse quicken. You wondered if he could hear the rapid beating of your heart, feel the electric tension that crackled in the narrow space between your bodies.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words tangled on your tongue. Instead, you took a steadying breath, the cool air of the kitchen filling your lungs, and tried to regain your composure. "Thanks," you said finally, your voice more composed. "But don't expect to see me at the next water polo match."

Rafe chuckled, a rich, resonant sound that made your skin tingle. "We'll see about that," he said, pushing away from the counter with a fluid grace. "Maybe I'll have to find another way to see what else you're good at."

He toyed with the string of your bikini on the side of your hip, twirling it around his finger with a casual confidence. The simple act felt charged with a silent promise, an acknowledgment that he had the power to undo it if he wanted to. The gesture made you feel even smaller beneath his commanding presence.

Your entire body felt hot, your cheeks surely blushing as you stared down at his fingers, your mouth slightly agape. The room seemed to close in, the air thick with an unspoken tension that left you at a loss for words. Your breath came shallow and quick, your mind racing as you tried to process the whirlwind of sensations his touch ignited.

Rafe’s smirk grew as he observed your reaction, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. His eyes, dark with intent, bore into yours, and you felt the intensity of his gaze like a physical touch. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "Just let me know if you need any help... learning new things. Seems like you're good at that."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, your pulse quickening at the proximity of his body to yours. You could feel the heat radiating from him, a magnetic pull that made it difficult to think clearly. The room seemed to shrink around you, the sounds of the party fading into the background as you became acutely aware of every breath, every heartbeat.

Rafe's fingers lingered on the string of your bikini for a moment longer before releasing it, the brief contact leaving a trail of fire on your skin. He pulled back slightly, just enough to lock eyes with you, his gaze unwavering and full of promise.

You swallowed hard, trying to regain your composure and not let your facade crack under the weight of his suggestive words. "I'll let you know if I do," you replied, though your voice wavered slightly, betraying the mix of excitement and nerves coursing through you. Each word felt like a tightrope walk between desire and restraint, and you fought to maintain your cool exterior even as your heart raced in your chest. Swallowing thickly, you held his gaze, determined not to show any sign of weakness in the face of his undeniable charm.

Rafe chuckled lowly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine as his eyes lingered on the string of your bikini for a moment longer. You could feel the weight of his gaze, intense and electrifying, tracing the curve of your body with an almost palpable hunger.

With a subtle smirk draped across his tanned features, he finally tore his gaze away from you, meeting your eyes once more. There was a magnetic pull in the air between you, a silent understanding of the unspoken tension that crackled between you like electricity.

"I'll see you around, Princeton," he said, his voice a low murmur that seemed to echo in the space between you. The nickname rolled off his tongue effortlessly, a teasing reminder of your status as the Ivy League hopeful amidst the chaos of the party.

As Rafe turned away, a rush of conflicting emotions swept over you, leaving you speechless as you watched him confidently make his way back to the patio. His fluid movements and undeniable charisma left you momentarily breathless, a flutter of butterflies erupting in your stomach at the memory of your interaction.

In the quiet solitude of the kitchen, you were left to ponder the significance of your encounter with Rafe. Each moment replayed in your mind like a broken record, the intensity of his gaze and the weight of his words still lingering in the air around you.

Part of you yearned for more, a silent whisper echoing in the recesses of your mind as you replayed the tantalizing moments with Rafe. You couldn't help but wonder what might have transpired if time had slowed, if his touch had lingered a heartbeat longer, or if his words had delved deeper into the depths of your soul.

The questions that danced in the wake of your encounter left an ache of anticipation blooming within you, like a hunger for the forbidden fruit, ripe with the promise of revelation. Each thought, each memory, stirred a longing within you, a primal desire to unravel the enigma that was Rafe Cameron himself.

As you stood in the quiet sanctuary of the kitchen, the distant hum of the party fading into the background, you were consumed by a yearning for more. It was a craving for connection, for intimacy beyond the surface-level exchanges and fleeting glances.

Shaking off the lingering warmth of Rafe’s touch, you took one final gulp of water, bracing yourself for the transition back to reality. The sun’s golden rays embraced you as you stepped onto the patio, your skin tingling from more than just the heat. You approached Sarah with a smile that barely masked the whirlwind inside you.

“Hey, I should get going,” you said, your voice steady despite the tumult within. You reached for your tote bag, its familiar weight grounding you. “My parents want me home for dinner, and I still have to study for exams. I’ll catch you at school?”

Sarah’s expression flickered with disappointment but quickly softened into understanding. “Of course! Thanks for coming by. We’ll definitely do this again soon.”

You nodded, embracing her in a quick hug, the scent of saltwater and sunscreen clinging to both of you. As you turned to leave, the magnetic pull of Rafe’s gaze was almost tangible, an invisible thread that made each step feel weighted with significance. You risked a final glance back and found his eyes still on you, a dark intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

With a final wave to the group, you slipped into your car, the engine’s hum a stark contrast to the lively chatter of the party. The drive home blurred past in a haze, your thoughts replaying the day’s interactions like a symphony of emotions. Each moment with Rafe was a note that resonated deeply, leaving you both exhilarated and yearning for more.

As you pulled into your driveway, the sky painted itself in hues of twilight, the world bathed in a soft, dusky glow. You paused, taking in the serene beauty of the evening, the contrast to the storm within. Stepping out of the car, you felt the weight of the day settling on your shoulders, a mix of excitement and uncertainty.

As you entered your house, the familiar scent of home mingled with the residual aroma of sunscreen and saltwater, creating a unique blend that encapsulated the day’s adventures. The moment you stepped through the door, your parents were upon you, their voices echoing in the foyer with a rapid-fire barrage of questions.

"Who were you with?"

"Where did you go?"

You sighed, trying to muster the energy to answer them calmly. "I was with Sarah Cameron," you said, the name dropping from your lips with practiced ease. "She's in honors society." The mention of Sarah's reputable background seemed to appease them instantly. Their expressions softened, their curiosity sated, and they nodded in approval.

"Alright then," your mother said, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "Just make sure you get your studying done."

You nodded, relieved as they stepped aside, allowing you to retreat to the sanctuary of your room. The door clicked shut behind you, and you leaned against it, exhaling deeply. The quiet of your room enveloped you, a stark contrast to the cacophony of the party and the intoxicating tension of Rafe's presence.

You took a moment to collect yourself, pushing off the door and moving towards your bed. The evening sunlight filtered through your window, casting soft, golden beams across your room, illuminating the stacks of textbooks and notes that awaited your attention. You dropped your tote bag by the bed, the weight of the day’s events finally settling in.

With a sigh, you changed into more comfortable clothes, the soft fabric a welcome comfort against your skin. You settled at your desk, opening your books, but your mind wandered back to the afternoon. The memory of Rafe's intense gaze and the feeling of his fingers toying with the strings of your bikini played on a loop in your mind.

You tried to focus, but the thought of him lingered like a whisper in the back of your mind, making it hard to concentrate. You imagined what it would be like to see him again, to share more moments that left you breathless and yearning. The pages of your textbook blurred as your thoughts drifted, and you found yourself lost in daydreams of possibilities.

As your mind wandered, thoughts of Rafe Cameron wove their way through your consciousness like tendrils of smoke, curling and dissipating only to reform, more vivid and enticing each time. His smirk, a crooked promise of mischief, lingered in your thoughts. You imagined the scene in the kitchen playing out differently, with Rafe staying just a moment longer, his presence filling the space between you, his gaze never wavering.

What if you had dared to bridge that gap, to step closer and voice your desire? The thought sent a thrill through you, a tantalizing mix of fear and excitement. You pictured his fingers trailing along your skin, their touch electric and gentle, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His breath, warm and intoxicating against your ear, whispered promises that made your pulse race.

Cold chills raced up and down your spine as you let your imagination roam freely. You envisioned his hands exploring your body with a blend of urgency and tenderness, tracing the lines of your silhouette, his touch both a comfort and a provocation. The memory of his fingers toying with the strings of your bikini resurfaced, each imagined brush of his skin against yours igniting a cascade of sensations.

Closing your eyes, you allowed the fantasy to unfold with cinematic clarity. You saw yourself reaching out to him, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. His breath mingled with yours, the heat of his body a palpable presence against your own. The kiss you conjured was a heady blend of need and gentleness, his lips exploring yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

In your mind’s eye, you felt the strength of his hands on your waist, guiding you closer, deepening the connection between you. The way his lips brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine, was so vivid it felt real. You imagined the texture of his hair beneath your fingers, the solid weight of him grounding you even as he sent your senses spiraling.

The fantasy was a sweet escape, an intoxicating reverie that left you flushed and eager. Each imagined touch, each whispered word, added to the heady mix of anticipation and longing. The more you indulged in these daydreams, the more you craved another encounter with Rafe, another chance to see where this tantalizing spark might lead.

It was a rush of adrenaline, unlike anything you had ever experienced. Boys had never held much sway over you; you had never felt the desire to pursue relationships like your friends did. Your parents had instilled in you the unwavering belief that studies should always come first—without them, your future held little promise. Marriage, they assured you, was a distant concern, something to consider only after college and a stable career were firmly in place.

The sensation of Rafe's touch lingered, electrifying your senses in a way that was entirely new. You were accustomed to boys making advances, attempting to win you over, but you had always kept them at arm's length. None had ever touched you the way Rafe had earlier.

His touch had been different—confident yet gentle, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. It was a touch that had stirred something deep within you, awakening a desire you hadn't known existed. In that fleeting moment, his fingertips grazing against your skin had sparked a rush of sensations, each one unfamiliar and exhilarating.

As you reflected on the encounter, you felt a mix of excitement and uncertainty. Part of you thrilled at the prospect of exploring this new terrain, of discovering what lay beyond the boundaries you had so carefully maintained. Another part of you felt a twinge of guilt, a nagging reminder of your parents' expectations and the priorities they had ingrained in you. Yet, amid those conflicting emotions, there was a growing sense of liberation. The brief exchange with Rafe had opened a door to a world of possibilities you had never dared to consider. It was a tantalizing glimpse of a different path—one that beckoned with its own set of risks and rewards.

After an intense hour buried in textbooks, you gratefully closed them and sank into bed. With a swift unlock, you navigated to Instagram, driven by an insistent urge to search for the name that had dominated your thoughts—Rafe. Thanks to Sarah and mutual acquaintances, locating his profile was effortless.

As your finger tapped on his profile picture, anticipation knotted in your chest. What if he was entangled with someone else? What if he was notorious for playing with hearts? Despite these apprehensions, you pressed on, yearning to unravel more about him. His profile unveiled snippets of his life—pictures from exotic getaways, moments with friends, and snapshots on the golf course where Topper, Sarah's boyfriend, featured prominently. Their closeness didn't surprise you; it was evident in their behavior.

You scrolled deeper, each image and caption offering a fleeting glimpse into his world. With every post, your intrigue grew. Who was Rafe Cameron behind these carefully curated snapshots? What did he cherish? What was he like beyond the filtered frames?

You found yourself drawn into the depths of Rafe's Instagram profile, scrolling through his life over the past few years. Each photo captured a different facet of him: lounging on sun-soaked beaches, laughing with friends on golf courses, and even a few candid shots that exuded his effortless charm. With each swipe, your smile widened involuntarily, captivated by his magnetic presence in every image.

But then, amidst the series of carefree snapshots, you stumbled upon a picture that shattered your burgeoning admiration. There he was, on a picturesque beach, arm wrapped around a girl with a bright smile and eyes that mirrored his joy. They shared ice cream on a bustling boardwalk, kissed under the soft glow of sunset—a glimpse into a life that seemed worlds apart from yours.

Your heart sank as you stared at the scene frozen in time, feeling a mix of disappointment and disbelief wash over you. You had allowed yourself to get lost in fantasies, caught up in a momentary thrill that now felt hollow. The reality of his relationship with someone else hit hard, snapping you out of the enchantment that had momentarily clouded your thoughts.

You felt an insatiable curiosity gnawing at you, craving to unravel the enigma of Rafe's relationship with the girl in those photos. Each snapshot on his Instagram page painted a picture of a life filled with adventure and camaraderie, yet it revealed nothing about the depth of his connections. The ocean breeze seemed to whisper secrets as you scrolled, each image telling a story of laughter and shared moments against stunning backdrops. But behind those smiles and frozen frames, the truth of their bond remained elusive, leaving you to wonder about the untold chapters that lay between them.

You wrestled with swirling thoughts of the mysterious girl in Rafe's photos, pondering the depth of their connection, its duration, and whether it still persisted. Lying in the dimness of your room, you stared at the ceiling, consumed by thoughts of Rafe Cameron and all that he represented. Each question about him spun through your mind like a whirlwind, relentlessly tugging at your attention until weariness finally overtook you. Drifting into sleep, thoughts of Rafe lingered at the edge of your consciousness, a silent presence that followed you into dreams.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

taglist: @yawnzshit, @saintchxx4

#rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #obx #outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe angst #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe

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lanternfeather · 2 months ago

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metcon - sevika x nb!reader, hurt/comfort

my first fic featuring my self-insert oc, marin! in this fic, they are new to their local crossfit gym and struggling with an eating disorder, but hopelessly in love with coach sevika and desperate to make her proud.

contains: sevika x nonbinary reader, self-insert, original character, lesbian yearning, hurt/comfort, fluff/angst, eating disorders (no numbers mentioned but behaviors are), age difference, caring sevika, reader fainting and being saved by sevika

read under the cut

also on ao3

��Alright, seven AM, circle up around the whiteboard!” Coach Sevika hollered above the blasting metal music. Marin dutifully circled up with their classmates to see what fresh torture was in store for them today. They’d joined their local Crossfit a month ago, tired of not making any progress and failing to motivate themself for self-directed workouts at their old gym. And, yeah, they were already seeing progress in both the scale and the mirror, but this was by far the hardest thing they’d ever done. They’d thought they had an okay amount of strength and endurance, but had quickly learned better when their first workout saw them gasping, drenched in sweat, and still lagging behind everyone. But they were determined to get better and reach their goals, no matter how hard they had to push. The scheduled group classes were certainly motivating on their own, but Sevika… Marin knew on their first day that they would not be missing any seven AM classes, not when Sevika was so impressive and hot and gave them so much encouragement, as the weakest member of the group. Any round was worth pushing through just so they could hear that “yes, Marin! Great job!” and feel like it was all worth it.

Most workouts were an absolute slog to get through. Marin knew they would likely do better if they fueled themself properly, but they were deeply entrenched in the practice of chronically not fueling themself. They doggedly ate very little and usually the same few low-calorie, high-protein foods in a fruitless attempt to build muscle while losing as much weight as possible. Every morning saw their vision going black around the edges as they squatted heavier and rowed faster. They knew they needed to change, and they couldn’t possibly continue making progress like this, and god forbid they fainted in front of their class… but this was what they’d done all their life and the thought of actually treating themself kindly was terrifying. They just had to keep pushing and improving and soon they’d be able to keep up with the class, and maybe impress Sevika with their progress.

As it was, the workout of the day today prescribed chin-ups for the strength portion and rowing mixed with burpees for the metabolic conditioning. Marin was excited- they’d recently progressed to being able to do one (1) quality unassisted chin-up, and they desperately wanted Sevika to notice how well they were doing, how much better they were getting under her guidance. Somewhere deep down, Marin’s rational brain told them that they should definitely not have a massive crush on their hot older trainer, and it would never lead to anything, but in reality, they were quite simple, and could never hope to resist a tall woman with huge arms and an intimidating presence. As Sevika rattled off the workout and the scaling options, she caught Marin’s eye and smirked a little. Marin smiled back and, unwillingly, blushed. They wanted to make Sevika proud. They woke up every morning dreading the workout ahead, but excited to see Sevika’s tilted smile cut through her severe exterior. Maybe they were being delusional, but they were slightly convinced that Sevika smiled at them and hung around their station slightly more than anyone else. But maybe they were just searching for evidence that wasn’t actually there.

After Sevika led the class through the warmup, which in itself had Marin sweating and panting, and demonstrated proper chin-up form, which made Marin sweat even more, it was time to start. Marin grabbed their step-up box and headed to their usual bar on the rig, hoping and praying that Sevika would make her way over to check in soon so they could show off. They set themself up with some bands that they knew they could assist them through sets of ten, eight, and six with, and, cued by the buzzer sound and Sevika turning her metal music up really loud, began their workout. They knew by the time they finished their first set that they would not be able to do the whole workout today. They felt supremely unwell, and considered grabbing some heavier bands for more assistance, when Sevika appeared beside them.

“How are we feeling about the chin-ups today, Marin?” she asked, crossing her arms and really making her biceps bulge. She looked angry, but Marin knew by now that was just her regular face. Marin swallowed and caught their breath, untangling their foot from the bands.

“I’m not feeling super great today, to be honest, so I’ll have to scale it back more…” they said, at which Sevika frowned a little further. “But can I show you something really quick?” They wanted to prove they were worth Sevika’s time so bad. Sevika gestured for them to go ahead. Standing atop their box to be able to reach, Marin wrapped their hands around the bar, exhaled sharply, and used all their strength to pull their chin clear over the bar. They heard Sevika exclaim in amazement, and then they did a second rep, so high on Sevika that they thought they could do anything. The minute their toes touched the box again and they disengaged, their vision began fading out at the edges.

“Marin, that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!” Sevika enthused. Marin couldn’t feel their hands anymore. I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud of you. Nothing else mattered, even though they were sure they were going to throw up, and they could barely hear Sevika ask “Hey, are you okay?” I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud of you. Marin toppled off their box into a faint.

Slowly, Marin’s hearing and vision came back to them. They were so disoriented. Nothing felt right. They gasped a bit, and Sevika’s unfocused face appeared over them, seeming angry.

“Marin, are you awake?” Sevika asked, to which Marin moaned, uncertain. They realized they were lying down, with their feet elevated and their head cushioned on a warm, soft surface. Judging by their position, and the position of Sevika’s face above her, they deduced their head was in her lap. The metal music was still blaring. The worst case scenario had come true. They had fainted in front of everyone in their class, who were all standing around looking worried, and Sevika had had to save their pathetic ass. They covered their face, extremely distressed and ashamed. They should have been more careful. They shouldn’t have pushed so hard.

“You passed out. It’s a good thing I caught you, otherwise I’m sure we’d be dealing with a severe head injury right now. Why didn’t you stop if you didn’t feel good? Do I need to call paramedics?” Sevika asked, quite sternly, deepening Marin’s shame.

“I wanted to… show you… my progress,” they said, sounding extremely selfish and stupid to themself. Sevika’s expression crumpled into something sad, shocked, and pitying, which was even worse than her anger.

“Please don’t call paramedics. I’ll be fine in a minute. I’m sorry for disrupting the class,” Marin said miserably, trying to roll away and sit up, but their body just couldn’t move. Sevika held them more firmly in her lap, which was horrible.

“No, you’re going to stay here until you’ve had some food and electrolytes. Coach Vi will continue the class,” Sevika reprimanded them. They were sure they had never felt this miserable. They felt like a stupid idiot child who couldn’t be trusted to take care of themself, which, in fairness, was kind of true. Sevika waved Vi over and requested her to bring a protein bar and Gatorade from the office. “What have you had to eat and drink today?” she asked them. They weren’t in the right headspace to make something up. They looked away guiltily, since the answer was nothing except their usual pre-workout trifecta of water for hydration, coffee for energy, and bone broth for electrolytes. Sevika’s expression got even sadder.

“Marin…” she said in a soft voice. Horrifyingly, Marin started to cry.

“I’m sorry,” they said pathetically, feeling even stupider and smaller.

If Marin had been privy to Sevika’s thoughts, they would have known that her heart was breaking. Sevika had liked Marin and their quiet, earnest demeanor the minute they showed up for their first class, but was alarmed as they became rapidly thinner yet somehow pushed themself harder over the past month. Each time she’d seen Marin falter in a movement or have to sit down for a bit with glassy eyes, she’d considered saying something to them, to show them she cared and wanted to help. But as soon as she’d seen Marin go pale as a sheet and their eyes roll back, and felt their terrible nothing-weight as they fell into her arms, she knew the only one at fault here was her, for not speaking up sooner and letting this go on too long. She felt as though she had been leading Marin on, for encouraging them even as she knew that they would do anything to please her. As she stared at that sharp white face and counted the seconds until they regained consciousness, she struggled to not let her desires take over. To hold close, to protect, to give, to make whole again. She knew she was in far too deep as a coach, but she cared too much at this point.

“Don’t be sorry,” Sevika said, the words sounding sharp to Marin. “I should be saying sorry. I know you’ve been overworking yourself and I haven’t checked in on you, I’ve just been feeding into you pushing yourself.” Marin was quiet as they slowly ate the bar and sipped the Gatorade. “You’re clearly struggling and I should have told you to stop coming to class for a while.” Everything Sevika said made Marin feel worse. They tried valiantly to get up, to go hide and wallow in self-loathing for a while.

“Don’t patronize me. I know I suck at taking care of myself, but I’m paying for this membership, and I don’t need to be told what I can and can’t do,” Marin said bitterly, finally finding the strength to slide out of Sevika’s arms. Sevika swallowed and frowned.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to patronize you. You have free will and all that, but…” she looked away and Marin was shocked to see she was blushing.

“I just wanted to let you know I care about you. And I want to see you get better- by better, I don’t mean thinner, I mean more lively and able to get through a workout.” Sevika said quite candidly. Marin decided to make up for being bitter, and speak candidly, too.

“I just wanted to impress you and show you how much I’ve improved since I’ve been training with you. Nothing else mattered to me except that I was worthy to keep coming here,” Marin said quietly. The truth hung heavily between them.

“You are worthy because you show up and do your best. You don’t need to impress me. Just putting in the work- in a healthy manner- and being earnest is enough,” Sevika said softly, making Marin swipe a few more tears away from their eyes.

“Let’s avoid this situation going forward. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to put your membership on pause-” Sevika said, momentarily shattering Marin. “-and you’re going to come here three days a week and have breakfast with me before we do a very scaled-back workout together. The other days, you’re going to rest or do something light, like a walk or yoga. And eat . And in another month, when you’re not seeing stars through every workout, we can reconsider your membership.” Her tone was no-nonsense and commanding. The thought of not exercising hard every day, and eating more than usual, sent a wave of fear and anxiety through Marin.

“I don’t want to… gain weight,” they murmured, knowing it sounded petulant and selfish even as they said it. Sevika’s face became stern and resolved.

“That’s the only way I see you being able to stand any form of exercise,” she said, and then, gentler- “It doesn’t have to be this hard. I want to help you find a middle ground that’s sustainable, and more importantly, allows you to exercise for fun and longevity rather than trying to prove a point.” Marin had to take a deep breath. Logically, they knew all this. But somehow they’d never managed to find a middle ground for anything. They’d always lived with an all-or-nothing mindset. The thought of taking it easy somehow made them feel like they were losing, in this fucked-up, competitive world. Sevika put a hand on Marin’s arm. Something tiny and hopeful flickered inside them.

“Look, I’m certainly not a therapist, and I’m not going to fix you or anything. You have to be willing to improve your life yourself. I just want to be here to support you and make the process a little less lonely,” Sevika said, searching to look into Marin’s eyes. “Keep showing up for me, just in a different way.” Marin’s heart was pounding from that intense steel-gray gaze, but they set their shoulders and nodded once. Sevika bit her lip.

“And, listen… I’m not coaching the next class. Can we start today? Can I take you out to breakfast?” she asked, so tender compared to her tough exterior that Marin, down bad as they were, could not even hope to say anything but yes.

#my writing #fanfics #sevika #sevika x reader #soft sevika #sevika x you #sevika x oc #arcane #sevika arcane #lesbian #wlw #crossfit au

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bm571158 · 2 months ago

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Free Now LN4 (Part 7)

To say Lando was jittery when he arrived at the track in Melbourne for media day ahead of the first race of the season was an understatement. He had barely slept the night before, tossing and turning for hours, and sending Lottie an endless number of TikTok videos that had been amusing to his sleep deprived brain, but probably weren't as funny to her. He half wondered if he needed to text her and apologise. He'd given very little thought as he was doing it to what time of day it might be for her.

He didn't have the brain power to think about it for long though. As the car slowed on the approach to the track, his knee bounced nervously, and he felt sick to his stomach. There were crowds of fans lining the approach to the entrance. This time last year he would've wound down the window, waved and stopped to take photos with them. This year though, he just kept his head down and hoped that the glass of the windows was a dark enough tint that they might not be able to see who was inside.

There was a twinge of guilt that hit him that he was ignoring these people who had made such an effort to come out and support him. It settled uneasily on top of the anxiety at the thought of facing the media, not helping the nauseous feeling he'd had all morning. Breakfast had been out of the question that day, and even knowing his stomach was completely empty he still felt like he might throw up any second.

Of course he was scheduled to be in the press conference with Max. He'd seen that one coming a mile off, when the McLaren press team had told him it had just been confirmation of what he'd already known was coming, and had been absolutely dreading. He could already hear the questions, different variations of the same ones he'd been asked at the end of the previous year. The world wanting to hear a detailed account, from Lando himself, of all the ways he'd managed to fuck up his own chances at the championship while having the faster car.

It had occurred to him that morning to stay in bed and try and claim he was sick, anything to avoid having to go there and face the media. He was starting to wonder if the McLaren team had some kind of sixth sense though, because just as he was contemplating making the call, one of the girls on the team had turned up and knocked on his hotel room door to tell him it was time to go. Having an escort to the waiting car meant there was no escape.

It didn't help that he hadn't seen Max since the end of the season either. The two of them were friends, and they had been for a long time. He wasn't sure why he felt quite so anxious about seeing his friend again, after all it wasn't like Max was the type to hold it over him that he'd beaten him. Their friendship had survived several incidents on the track during some rather heated battles last year and he'd never questioned it. But for whatever reason, Lando found himself desperately wishing he could avoid him for a bit longer. Even though Max would probably have nothing but kind words and some encouragement that maybe this year would be his year, Lando simply didn't want to hear it.

He was slow to get out of the car when they parked up at the entrance to the paddock, just sitting there and staring into space until someone from McLaren opened the door and looked at him expectantly. "Sorry, I'm coming." He mumbled, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment that they'd just caught him staring into space like an idiot.

"We want to film a few clips on the way in." The woman explained to him as he climbed out of the car. "Highlight from last year, what you're looking forward to this year. Same thing we do every year, you know the drill."

"Right." Lando nodded weakly, scouring his mind for something positive he could say about last year, or this year if he was being honest. Would it be a bad thing if he said he was just looking forward to getting to the summer break because that would mean he'd survived the first part of the season?

His eyes flickered uncertainly towards the crowd of fans gathered outside the entrance to the paddock. He could already see things being held out in the hope that he might sign them or perhaps stop for a photo. There was absolutely nothing he wanted to do less in that moment, what he really wanted to be able to do was teleport into the sanctuary of his drivers room. But, if he walked past them all without acknowledging them then it was just going to pour fuel on the fire of the internet hatred, people would be saying he was rude and ungrateful on top of all the other things they were already saying about him.

So, he rearranged his face into what he sincerely hoped at least closely resembled a genuine smile, pulled his hat down a little bit further over his face and set off in the direction of the turnstiles, pass gripped firmly in his hand. He stopped at the far end and signed a couple of caps, trying to keep the smile on his face as he heard them tell him how disappointed they'd been that he'd missed out last year and they hoped that this year would be his year. He knew they were only trying to be nice, to offer some words of support and encouragement but he didn't want to hear it.

He picked up the pace after that, skipping his way along the line before splitting off in the direction of the turnstiles, keeping his head down as he heard people calling at him to come back. The only way he was going to survive this was to get his head down and make his way through the paddock and in to the safety of his drivers room as quickly as possible. He was so entirely focused on doing this, that he'd all but forgotten about the McLaren cameras that were trained expectantly on him once he got through the turnstiles.

"Lando?" They prompted, causing him to look up from where his gaze had been firmly fixed on the floor.

"Oh right... sorry." He mumbled, forcing another smile onto his face. "I uh... well, it's good to be back here for the start of another season. Last year obviously didn't work out the way I wanted it to in the end, but I'd say the highlight for me was getting my first win in Miami. I'm hoping I can do a better job this year and we'll have plenty more podiums to celebrate as a team."

He didn't hang around long enough for them to ask any more questions or tell him that it wasn't quite right. He just got his head back down, almost breaking into a run, as he headed for the McLaren hospitality. He'd actually ended up climbing through some bushes and taking a detour when he'd spotted sky sports in the middle of doing an interview stood in his path, unwilling to take the risk of walking by them in case they tried to talk to him.

Eventually though, even with the detour, he'd made it into McLaren. He'd mumbled his greetings to a few members of the team he hadn't seen for a while, then jogged up the stairs two at a time to get to his room, locking the door firmly behind himself in case anyone was tempted to come and find him. Then, he flopped down on the sofa in the corner of the room, throwing his head back with a groan.

It was going to be a very, very long day indeed for him.

*****

Lottie meanwhile, was tossing and turning in her bed at Flo's house, trying to get comfortable enough to get a couple of hours of sleep. Her leg was throbbing, an unwelcome reminder of how much more it was going to hurt in a few days when she had her surgery. She'd already taken another handful of painkillers, usually they knocked her right out and she'd then get to sleep, but on this occasion they didn't seem to be doing anything.

After another half an hour of trying to force herself to sleep and failing miserably, she gave up. She flicked on the bedside light and picked up her phone.

She couldn't help but smile as she saw a stack of TikTok notifications from Lando. One perk to him being on the other side of the world was that when she couldn't sleep, he was generally awake and willing to entertain her.

She scrolled through the videos, sending various reactions as the silly videos made her laugh. It was only a couple of minutes later that her phone started ringing, the notifications that she'd been replying to him obviously clueing him in that she was awake, despite the weird hour of the night.

"Hey." She yawned, answering the phone.

"What are you doing awake?" He asked. "Isn't it like the middle of the night there?"

"Yeah. I couldn't sleep. I was entertaining myself watching all this TikTok's that you sent me." She shrugged. "How's your day going?"

"Why can't you sleep?" He asked, and she could almost hear him frowning at her.

"My leg hurts and I can't get comfy." She told him, although she suspected he could've firghred the answer to that question out without having to ask her. It was the same reason she hadn't had a good nights sleep in months. "And now I don't have someone here who's willing to spend the whole night watching Netflix with me to keep me company."

"Trust me, I'd much rather be there with you doing that." Lando sighed.

"Where are you?" Lottie asked curiously.

"I uh... I'm at the track." He told her. "It's media day and then I've got some meetings with the team before tomorrow."

That more than accounted for the strange tone of his voice. "How are you finding it?" She asked softly.

"It uh... it's about what I expected." He told her. "I'll live, I'm sure."

"Tell me about it." She suggested.

"It's fine, I'm fine. You'll be bored. I'm making a problem out of nothing."

"I'm sure you're not." She told him. "And if you do bore me to sleep then that would be a win, maybe I'll finally get some sleep." She joked.

There was a faint laugh from Lando's end of the call but it didn't sound at all genuine, and she suddenly wished she could see his face. It was hard to get a read on it through the phone, but something was wrong.

"Oh it's fine." He said dismissively. "I'll be fine once I get back out there I'm sure. I might've just done a bit too much of a good job hiding from everyone over the break. I think I've forgotten how to do this, and then they're all just going to ask me questions about last year that I don't want to answer.... And yeah, it'll be the first time I've seen max and I just... I don't know, I'm being stupid I think. Ignore me."

"You're not being stupid." She reassured him. "I get it, it makes sense. I know he's your friend but it's always going to be a bit weird. You are allowed to be disappointed about last year, Lando. You don't have to keep trying to pretend that you aren't."

"I need to get over it and start thinking about this year." He sighed. "I think Zak must've told me that about one hundred times since the end of last season. I haven't seen him yet today but I can guarantee now that he says it at least three times before I can even get to the press conference."

"I know you don't want to hear it and it feels like people are saying stupid things that just make it worse, but they're only saying it because they care." She said softly, and she could hear him sighing on the other end of the phone.

"It doesn't make me feel any better though." He huffed. "I just want to forget about it. Pretend none of it ever happened."

"I don't know if we should really pretend that none of it happened." She disagreed. "If we did that then we'd have to forget about Miami too. Remember how happy you were? God Flo was crying when you won."

"Yeah." He sighed. "I was so happy, and then all of a sudden it went from 'he's never going to win a race' to 'he's going to win the diver's championship' in the space of a few weeks. I never even got to enjoy it really. The pressure was... is... it's ridiculous."

"I know." She agreed. "But neither of us can do anything to stop them. All I can do is say I'll be here if you want to call me up and rant about it after you're done?"

"God I wish you were here." He groaned, and then immediately felt embarrassed that he'd just said that out loud.

"I will come to a race as soon as this surgery is over and done with, I promise."

"When is the surgery again?" He asked, he'd been so wrapped up in his own stress and the thought of going racing again that he'd very nearly forgotten all about her rapidly approaching surgery.

"Wednesday." She told him. "So I'll still be here to watch you on tv and cheer you on this weekend. I think we're going over to have lunch with your mum and watch. I think she's missing your dad, she's been spending a lot of time here. It's really winding Flo up." She couldn't help but laugh at the memory of Flo and Cisca having an incredibly heated argument after Flo had come home from work to find her kitchen cupboards had all been rearranged into what Cisca had deemed a more logical order.

"I don't know why she didn't just come with him." Lando sighed. "Or he could've stayed home, they don't need to be here to watch me fuck it all up in person do they. It's there on tv for everyone to watch live."

"First of all, you're not going to fuck it up." Lottie told him firmly. "You've got absolutely no idea what's going to happen until you actually get out there. Secondly, they're your parents. Of course they want to be there to support you. We'd all be there if we could. Even Flo, as much as she jokes and moans and says she wouldn't, we all know she'd be there in a heartbeat if she thought it would help."

"I've been hiding from Dad." Lando confessed. "He's as bad as the rest of the team for the motivational speeches trying to convince me that this year will be my year. I just can't face it."

"Have you actually left your hotel room since you got there?" Lottie asked.

"Well, I was at Daniel's for a bit. It was okay there, he's been in my shoes and he gets it. He just sort of knew I didn't want to talk about it so we just talked about anything but racing and messed around on his farm..."

"And then?" Lottie prompted.

"Then I spent the rest of this week trying to hide from Carlos because he wants to play golf and that'll just turn into a whole day of him saying whatever he thinks will make me feel better and probably him complaining about the fact he had to leave Ferrari. I feel bad, he's my friend but I just... I don't know, I just sort of want to be on my own."

"You could just tell him that, instead of hiding from him." Lottie pointed out. "I don't think you're going to be able to hide from him all weekend, are you? And he's probably just worried about you. We all are."

"You don't need to worry about me." He mumbled. "I'll be fine."

"The minute you stop telling me you're fine every other sentence then maybe I'll start believing you." She rolled her eyes at him, not that he could see her.

"I don't think you can talk." He laughed.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're just as bad as I am. Every other word out of your mouth is I'm fine, even though you're up in the middle of the night talking to me because you're in too much pain to sleep." He pointed out. "That hardly seems like something that someone who's absolutely fine would be doing."

"We aren't talking about me, we're talking about you." She tried to shake it off. "I am fine, it's a temporary thing, they're going to stick my leg back together properly this time and I'll be good as new."

"How do you stay so ridiculously positive about it? If that was me I'd..." he trailed off, because honestly he didn't know the answer. He had no idea what he'd do if he were in her shoes.

"I haven't really got a choice." She pointed out. "Just gotta keep going and try and trust it'll all work out for the best in the end. If not I'd probably end up actually driving myself mad."

It was the honest truth. She couldn't quite bring herself to tell him that actually, the only thing that was keeping her going was the slightly delusional hope she was going to come through this and beat all the odds to mean she'd get her life back the way it was. It didn't matter how many times the doctors tried to tell her it was never going to happen, she just ignored them in the hope that maybe they'd be wrong.

An insistent knocking on the door to Lando's drivers room stopped him before he could say anything else. "I have to go." He said quietly. "It must be time for the press conference if they've come looking for me."

"You can do it, you'll be fine." She reassured him, hearing the anxiety in his voice at even the thought of it. "I'll be right here watching on the tv, you can call me back straight after. I'll be awake."

"You need to get some sleep." He argued, and she could hear him shuffling around in the background as he got ready to go, the sound of the door being unlocked and him quietly telling someone he'd be two minutes.

"I haven't slept properly in months. One more night of broken sleep is not going to kill me." She joked. "You'll be doing me a favour really, providing me with something to watch."

"Do you think they'd notice if I didn't turn up?" Lando asked. "Or do you think maybe I can just ban every kind of question that's in anyway related to what went wrong last year?"

"You can try." She laughed. "You can do this though, I promise. I know it's easy for them all to say now that you could've and should've won, but remember this time last year it seemed absolutely ridiculous to anyone to even suggest that someone other than Max might win the championship. The fact that you gave him a bloody good run for his money and people actually thought you could win it is an achievement in itself. Don't you ever forget that."

"Maybe I should keep you on the phone and let you answer the questions for me." He joked. "You're very, very good at this."

"I know... but I haven't got that much of a filter. I'd be coming out with all kinds of things and you'd be doing so much community service you wouldn't even have time to race anymore, so I think it's probably best I just leave you to it. You'll be absolutely fine, I'm sure of it."

He was quiet for a long moment, as if he were carefully considering her words. "I've got to go, Lottie." He sighed, reaching the room the press conference was being held in. It looked like they were only waiting on him now before they could get started. "I'll call you back later."

"Yeah, okay." She agreed. "Good luck, Lando."

"Thanks." He sighed, hanging up the call. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and made his way to the front of the room to take his seat next to Max.

#angst with a happy ending #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula 1 #formula one #lando norris #fanfic #romance #recovery #angst

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kenniecrazyface · 4 months ago

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HUGE Venting below cut just fyi. (This is mostly for me to try and write my thoughts out)

⚠️ALSO please don’t engage; I’m not trying to seek validation. Again, this is basically journaling. Sometimes, you just wanna put something out there to be heard, not responded to, ya know?❤️‍🩹

This is hilarious since my main thing is just “funny random” shitposts lmao.

I am a failure. I am below EVERYBODY else. I always make sure to remind myself every morning I wake up, and every hour of the day.

So much to say but I’m not good at writing stuff. Ig what’s bothering me right now is that things are suddenly just FLOPPING on Twitter. Idk if it’s because people are migrating to blue sky, the algorithm, or what.

(And the thing is, I am AWARE of the fact that it’s dumb to base your self worth on “internet points and likes”. But my whole life has ALWAYS been about numbers; weather it be OCD, getting the right number on the scale when I was at the peak of my Ed, or followers/likes.)

I know I make a ton of just, shitpost stuff, but sometimes I WANT to at least try and make something actually meaningful. But everytime I do, nobody cares about it. Maybe I’m damned to only be the “funny person” It definitely tells me that I am the absolute bottom of the barrel, and I am instantly humbled. Feeling even a little bit proud of myself, or thinking something I made looks ok feels WRONG. I am NOT talented. I am NOWHERE near as good as actual artists, and I never will be. I am unworthy. Maybe I’m destined to fail. What did I do wrong to never be able to taste success? At least I know that my reward at the end will be great.

I put a lot of time into it even if it doesn’t look like it. Hell, even the shitposts can take hours sometimes. ADHD is hell, and I believe it’s gotten worse as time goes on. (I DO try to get help for these things btw, but I can’t trust therapists) I see BEAUTIFUL masterpieces people make, and they say “oh this took 30 mins!” And I feel dreadful. I used to be able to do that, but idk what changed. Then all I can do is degrade myself to the point of panic attacks or tears.

Drawing is like, my only “talent” if you can call it that. That’s why even if I want to, I can’t bring myself to give up on it. I WANT to be good at it so bad. People compliment sometimes, but I know it’s fake. There’s no way I can be “good” at this. But I can’t even tell if I’m good or not. My brain distorts my art the same way it does to my body in the mirror. The only thing I have to gauge it is those damn numbers.

It seems like ALL hate i have for anything, I direct back at myself. If something bad happened to me, I definitely deserved it for SOME reason.

I may be a lost cause, but at least I can try and bring other people up. And that’s what I do. That’s why I never like sharing these bad thoughts, I never want to hurt anyone. I don’t want ANYBODY pitying me. I’ve been told I’ve been a huge help sometimes, but it’s so hard to accept that ANYTHING good can come from ME.

Maybe things will change someday. The world feels hopeless in so many ways rn. But if anyone is reading this, I promise things will be amazing for you. You have potential and a bright future ahead of you. And I envy you for that. God bless.❤️❤️❤️

#PLEASE DONT READ IF YOU DONT LIKE NEGATIVE TALK #tw vent #vent #vent post #personal vent #vent art

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atranswomansdiary · 6 months ago

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Day 156

November 8, 2020

“Dies ist der Morgen danach Und meine Seele liegt brach Dies ist der Morgen danach Ein neuer Tag beginnt Und meine Zeit verrint”

So, yeah: it is the morning after.

Things went well, I guess? Not as I expected at all but, in retrospect, I don’t know what the fuck was I thinking about when I imagined things going, let’s put it this way, “smoothly” when it is about things that concern me.

First things first: of course that one of my siblings forgot what I had asked and fucking missed the family meeting! She was kind of apologetic, saying that she really, absolutely had to meet with her boyfriend this very day, but it was still a shitty thing to do, in my opinion. If someone who never does so asks you, explicitly and ahead of time, to please be present for something, I think the least you can do is either commit to it or say outright that you won’t be there. I imagine that she didn’t want to be there because she didn’t want to be part of the family drama? I don’t know and, to be honest, I don’t think it really matters. I don’t think her presence would’ve changed the outcome or the others' reactions.

When I found out about them not being there, I had to make a decision. Either I canceled the whole thing or I moved forward. I decided to be respectful to my other sisters (and to my parents) and just go ahead with the thing.

We ate some lunch, had some chit-chat, and then the time came for me to open up and tell them the reason for the family meeting. Instead of going for some kind of preface or explanation, I chose to go for the Aristotelian line of reasoning. In other words: I started with the conclusion.

So I told them what I had told my (remaining and former) friends: “I’m considering transitioning”.

Let’s start with the positive stuff. My younger sister’s reaction was almost everything I could have hoped for. She asked me the usual questions—”Are you sure? Have you considered whether you're just gay?” Etc.—and, once I reassured them that yes, I was sure of at least considering the possibility, she seemed to be onboard. No drama there—at least not for now.

Speaking of drama: my dad cried. Like a lot. And he never cries. It shocked me and it really threw me off, but it was at least an emotional reaction, and he said it was because he was imagining my suffering. Of course I cried during this part as well. And if that had been all, if this was the full report, I’d say that it went OK. Could’ve been better, but it could’ve been way worse too.

And then we come to the subject of my mom.

Being completely transparent here, this was the reaction that matter to me the most. Not because I love her more than my dad or my sisters, but because she’s the one I have the closest relationship with. We talk almost every day over the phone and we have long conversations. She genuinely cares for me and my well-being, and does everything in her power to help me. She sends me frozen meals cooked by her, she washes my clothes (and sometimes irons them, against my protestations), and is all around just there for me, you know?

And she’s also, in her own words, a Roman Catholic. And a traditionalist and all around conservative. She’s the type of person that complains that life was better before… And she actually means it. She’s not a homophobe, but seeing two homosexuals displaying any signs of affection makes her squirm. She doesn’t practice her religion much… But you wouldn’t know it by listening to her. She is, all in all, a proper baby boomer with a pension that’s a misery but who still thinks that capitalism and our overall system are as good as it's ever going to get.

So now you understand why her reaction was so important to me—and why I dreaded it so much.

I was thinking the other day, trying to see if my memories could help me foresee her reaction… And the results were not great.

I remember two instances where she and I didn’t agree on important issues and it became a problem. The first was about religion—of course! We had many arguments back in the day, when I was young and stupid (I’m no longer young, thank you very much). At one point, it got so bad that I used to either work all weekend or escape to my grandparents’ or a friend’s house in order to avoid arguing with her.

The second time I recall was the time when I told her that I had decided to study philosophy once I was finished with high school. I don’t know why, but she lost it. This time we didn’t argue so much as she just stopped talking to me and looked at me like I had a disease or something for days.

In both instances, things only got better when I gave in. I just stopped saying out loud what I though about religion at home. I kept my ideas in general to myself and to whoever wanted to listen to me. And I didn’t study philosophy after high school.

Come to think of it, there’s another very important thing my mom and I have never agreed upon… And this is the only instance I can think of in which I’ve gone directly against her wishes. My mom doesn’t really like that I’m a writer. She never has. She never asks about it, nor has she never expressed any words of support for me regarding it. In fact, she always asks, “when are you going to get a real job?” whenever she can. And I’ve been pretty serious about writing (at least as much as an asshole like me can be about anything) for the past… Decade? Whoa! Times flies away indeed.

And yet, in spite of her lack of support and constant sabotage, I haven’t given in. And every time she’s been happy because I got a “real job” in the past ten years, for one reason or another, I’ve felt myself dying a little inside.

You can tell I’m delaying the inevitable, can’t you?

So, what happened? Nothing awful. At least not dramatically awful or anything like that. She didn’t disavow of me or ask me to leave, no. She just stood there, by my side, looking straight ahead (and perhaps avoiding looking at me?) and didn’t say a single thing. Not one word came out of her mouth. She didn’t cry like my dad nor asked questions like my sister. She just stood there, stone-faced and seemingly in shock. She said something about it being “my life” and “my business” (or something to that effect) and then avoid talking about it for the rest of the evening.

A part of me wants to believe that she’ll change her attitude regarding this, that maybe one day she’ll say that it’s OK, that she loves me and she’ll embrace me and say something like “I love you just the way you are. I always have and I always will.” Yeah, well, I didn’t say that I was a good writer.

Another part of me, the more cynical or realistic one, tells me that no, that this is it. That I have to continue forward and make my decision—whether to transition or not—regardless of my mom’s support… Or lack thereof. That a decision as important as this one can only be made from my center, from whatever makes me me. That it cannot depend on external approval of any kind, my mom’s included.

So here I am, the morning after, wondering whether this’ll be like religion or me studying philosophy… Or like being a writer. This is perhaps the greatest, cruelest test to my incipient transness. Will I go forward or will I go back? Can I? Today, I don’t know. Maybe tomorrow. Definitely, one day, I hope I will know for sure.

Until then, with love,

#dear diary #journal entry #queer #trans #trans woman #transfem #transgender #transgirl #lgbtqia

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what-if-queen-camilla · 1 year ago

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Chapter 35

New Year's Day 1996

"Do we really have to do that?", Camilla asked for approximately the tenth time and looked at Charles with puppy eyes. It was half past eight in the morning on New Year's Day, and she felt as if they had just gone to bed about an hour before. It had been a really lovely evening with a heavenly menu, fancy drinks and lots of fun and family games and some great dances. Anne and Tim had shown up yesterday, too, as well as some other good friends of the Queen Mother's so they had been quite a lot in the end and it'd been a great party with lots of fun. But today, the part Camilla had been dreading ever since she had received the invitation was planned to go ahead: She'd have to accompany Charles, his sons and the Queen Mother to New Year's Day Service at Crathie Kirk. Of course, Thea was coming, too, so she had to pull herself together even more as she didn't want her poor little daughter to feel afraid as well but deep inside, she was terrified. It was going to be their first ever public outing as a couple, and also Thea's first appearance, she had no idea how the people would react but after everything she'd been through ever since their affair had first become public, she was frightened as hell. "Yes, darling, we have to, but you don't have to be afraid.", Charles tried to reassure her and tenderly stroked her face. She looked so incredibly beautiful and he couldn't wait to finally show the world that this wonderful woman was his, let alone their sweet daughter who was all his pride and joy. "I'll be by your side all the time and protect you if necessary. But it won't be necessary. I promise you.", he added, taking her face into both of his hands, kissing her passionately which made her chuckle. "Darling… behave yourself!", she admonished him jokingly, but looked at him with eyes full of love. She knew exactly that he was just as nervous as she was and usually she was the one to encourage him, so this was sort of new but she thought that he was doing exceptionally well motivating her. She could only hope and pray that he was right and everything was going to alright.

She had commissioned a new, flatteringly tailored, red coat with a bit of tartan on the collar and sleeves, Rothesay Hunting tartan, as Charles was known as the Duke of Rothesay in Scotland, and she knew that it was one of his favourites. Actually, Fiona had talked her into red, she herself would never have chosen such a vibrant colour as she had always preferred to stay as inconspicuous as possible, but her friend had insisted that she had to get out of her comfort zone and shine for her Prince so eventually, she had given in, but wasn't so sure about it anymore when she stood in front of the mirror in their room. It looked good, without a question, but it was also impossible to overlook her now and the last thing she wanted was to overshadow anyone else. At least she wasn't alone in this, as she had commissioned the same coat for Thea as well and her sweet little darling looked like a real Princess when she came down the stairs together with her great-granny, who was regally (and much to Camilla’s relief way more conspicuously than her) dressed in a vibrantly yellow coat with an extravagant fur collar and a giant, matching hat. She herself had opted for a small fascinator and was more than happy to see that she was definitely not going to outshine the old lady, though it was probably not humanly possible to outshine her at all. The Queen Mother was known for her fancy clothes and despite her age, she was the brightest shining star on every stage anyway. Charles had been reading the news as everyone else had been getting ready and gasped for a few seconds as he first caught a glance of his two favourite ladies in their matching coats with his beloved Rothesay Hunting tartan. "Oh my God…", he whispered and didn't even know where to look first. "You both look absolutely beautiful!", he gushed, tenderly putting his hand around Camilla’s waist, trying to pull her closer, but she winced and kept her distance. William and Harry were going to come down every moment and she didn't want them to have to see them like that, not yet, not after yesterday's dispute, not to speak of the Queen Mother's presence that would have made her feel deeply uncomfortable displaying affection. She looked at him excusing and hoped he'd understand. And indeed, the boys came down just seconds later, both dressed in dashing suits like their father. "Looking good!", William said to Thea and the little girl blushed which made Camilla smile. She had been such a good girl ever since their arrival, she had been behaving so well and to see how sweetly and lovingly she had already bonded with her great-grandmother, and how kind the old lady was to her, made Camilla’s heart almost burst with pride and joy.

They departed to Crathie Kirk in two cars; one was carrying Charles and the boys and the second one the Queen Mother, Thea and herself. As their visit had not been announced and nobody expected members of the Royal Family in Scotland on New Year's Day, it was just the usual handful of faithful members of the community who showed up for the service, but of course their eyes widened as they realised who came out of the black Audi that had just stopped in front of the church: Charles had driven the three of them himself and the ladies had had a driver, and once their car had parked next to the black Audi, the Prince immediately rushed over and first helped his grandmother out, and then gave his girlfriend a helping hand, much to the enchantment of the onlookers, who had gathered together at the entrance of the church and watched the scenes with great curiosity. Thank goodness, there were no photographers or reporters around, but Camilla noticed two of the younger attendees leaving the area and heading towards the village again, there'd most certainly be more attention when they were going to depart after the service but she didn't want to think about that now, it was already nerve-wracking enough just trying to follow Charles as unobtrusive as possible without stumbling and falling over her own feet as they made their way to the entrance of the church, where the priest, who was just as surprised to see them as everyone else, welcome them kindly, first the Queen Mother, then Charles and then boys: "Happy New Year, Your Majesty, Your Royal Highnesses.", before bending over to her and Thea, kindly wishing them both a happy new year as well. "Thank you and the same to you!", Camilla replied, rather automatically, and hoped it had been alright. They followed the party inside of the church and took their seats in the first row, with the security officers who were accompanying the four royals sitting down right behind them.

The service lasted for about an hour and somehow, it helped Camia to calm down. The music was beautiful and the prayers and readings had something meditative, but her nervousness returned as they got up and made their way up the aisle again, as she knew exactly that all eyes were on them, especially her. She tried not to think about it, but she couldn't avoid the glances and smiles the people in the back rows gave her as they walked past them. Surely, not everyone gave her smile, some didn't even look at her, two or three older women gave her a rather judging glance, but most of them happily smiled and waved at them which was quite a wonderful experience. However, as the doors flung open for them to exit, her heart stopped beating for a few seconds, as, for a small village like Crathie, quite a massive crowd had gathered in front of the church, excitedly cheering at members of their royal family. Camilla remembered the two youngsters who had gone back to the village after their arrival - they'd probably let everyone know and apparently brought the whole village here. Thank God they had the Queen Mother with them, who never minded meeting people and immediately rushed over to one side, pulling all of her three great-grandchildren with her. The Queen Mother couldn't have been more delighted and excited to introduce her sweet little great-granddaughter to the community of the village that has always meant so much to her and, much to Charles and Camilla's relief, who watched the scene from the corner or their eyes, everyone seemed enchanted by their little darling. Thea wasn't a naturally shy child but of course this completely new situation and all of the strangers were intimidating and she hid behind her great-grandmother at first, until William took her by the hand and sweetly walked side-by-side with her behind the Queen Mother. Charles' heart almost exploded at these wonderful scenes and, in contrast to Camilla, he didn't even seem to notice that Harry, who was walking behind William and Thea, carrying the Queen Mother's walking stick, didn't look too happy at all. But before she could've thought twice about it, Charles motioned for her to follow him to greet the people lining the other side of the path, but she just looked at him in panic. "Darling, no…", her lips formed silently, but he just nodded reassuringly and tenderly patted her back, gently pushing her in the right direction. The public reaction was overwhelming and Camilla felt like in a movie or something as she slowly made her way along the well-wishers, terrified at first, but all of the smiles and handshakes and good wishes made her feel more secure, confident and comfortable after few minutes. One women handed flowers to her, an exceptionally lovely posy, explaining to her that she had been given them for her birthday on the 30th but wanted her to have them instead. "I'd have bought some for you but the shops are all closed…", she explained and Camilla laughed. She couldn't believe how kind and lovely they all were, she'd expected them to hate her but in fact it was quite the opposite. Of course, it was only just the reaction of one small village, and didn't represent the whole United Kingdom, but given Crathie's special and long-standing connection to the Royal Family, it seemed quite an important and significant one and that made her incredibly happy, especially the warmth they had welcomed Thea with, who couldn't stop talking about her experience all afternoon, her eyes lit up in excitement.

They were having tea in the Queen Mother's drawing room after they had returned to Birkhall. The boys had left the party in order to join their cousins and Laura for a few more games without the adults, so it was only Charles, Camilla and Thea joining the Queen Mother. It was lovely, but though it was only just early afternoon, Camilla was so tired she could have fallen asleep immediately. It'd been a wonderful morning but quite a lot to take in. "Your Majesty, darling -", she asked the Queen Mother and the Prince. "I'm genuinely sorry but I'm afraid I… I have to lay down for a little while.", she said, desperately trying to suppress a heartfelt yawn, much to the Queen Mother's amusement. "Don't worry, my dear, it's been quite a morning, hasn't it?", the old lady asked and Camilla nodded smilingly. "Just go upstairs and rest for a few hours, see you at dinner tonight.", she said, and Camilla got up, questioning looking at Thea, asking: "What about you, sweetie? Wanna come with me or stay here?" Thea happily jumped up and over to Charles, throwing herself onto him, which caused all of them laughing, before she declared: "I'll stay with Daddy!"

Camilla actually did have a red coat with Rothesay Hunting tartan on the collar and sleeves made for their honeymoon in 2005. In the story, I imagine her to wear exactly this outfit and a smaller version of it for Thea ❤️

#king charles #queen camilla #royal family #royal baby #fanfiction #fanfic #queen mother #prince william

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skyland2703 · 1 year ago

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Here’s some BillySkull ABSOLUTE SOFTNESS Headcanons and soft things

They do so many affectionate things. Things that just become custom. For them. Like they don’t even realise they’re holding hands, warm hugs, just. Staring at each other. Admiring each other.

The way Billy Looks at Skull. He’s never realised it himself, but one day, Kim was clicking pictures, when the entire team + bulk and skull + Kat, Adam, Rocky Aisha, were out on a picnic, and she’d brought along her Polaroid camera, and was just doing random candid shots of the friends— and then this one shot popped up, where Skull was on the barbecue grill, having the time of his life, with the biggest grin imaginable, and there was Billy, standing in the background, arms folded across the chest, and just… just staring at him. Admiring him. Simping for him.

They put that Polaroid on their refrigerator.

Billy never says this, but he notices every little mannerism of Skull. The way his eyes become adorably big, and widen a little when he listened to billy ranting about things Skull didn’t understand, the way the corners of his lips turned up before showing the most beautiful smile, the way his hair looked in the morning, the way his voice always sounded a little too high pitched. Billy notices everything. Billy cherishes everything.

Back in Highschool, for fulfilling credit requirements, Billy was required to join music class, because he was lacking the extra curricular credits because of ranger things. The first second he entered the practice Room, he realised he didn’t know a single person in there. Filled with dread, he took his seat, his introvert tendencies feeling more and more useless, every second.

Then a boy popped in, completely drenched, with ONE dry Spot on him, his hair dripping over his face, holding a trombone, and wordlessly sat in an empty seat in front of Billy. It was when he spoke, did billy realise— he’d been thrown off by the spiky jacket, yes, but a confirmation was nice— it was Skull. The only person who he actually knew in the entire class. and he decided to just stick next to him…. For the rest of the semester.

And Skull took him under his wing, like a mother hen.

Little Spike Skullovitch actually really adored Uncle Billy. He was the one who suggested he get together with Skull. Spike was eight, when Billy and Skull met again, years after being apart. And somehow, Spike immediately took a liking to him, and went “MINE!”

Billy loves spending time with Spike. While Skull is somewhat of the “discipline” Dad, Billy is the “Chill” dad. Spike loves arranging Little flowers in Billy’s hair, every time they’re out in a field of flowers.

They’re out in a field of flowers once in a few weeks anyway, btw. Billy saw some videos and got inspired to just. Hike. He’s discovered this really beautiful hill nearby, and while he’s a ranger who can teleport, he always hikes to these spots— with Skull, with Spike. Skull sometimes asks him to teleport him back home, when there’s a climb ahead, but billy is always like “NO THE FUN OF IT IS IN COMPLETING THE TREK”

As if Skull is the one screaming and howling in knee pain at nights.

Skull gets tired easily, but he’s more fit. At least he doesn’t have joint pain from mid thirties. “God— are you a ranger or am i—“

When billy got stuck on another planet, with the Cosmic Fury team, Skull went into a full blown panic, because “HE IS NOT ANSWERING HIS PHONE OR HIS COMMS THAT IS NOT LIKE HIM Q_Q”

when they got the systems working again, Billy had to spend an entire two hours convincing his panicky husband, that they’re okay, he’s OKAYYYYY~

Oh and while billy shut himself up in the workshop for working on the cosmic morphers??? He had Skull on videocall the entire time.

The ULTIMATE long distance relationship. They did ALL THEIR WORK together that day :3

Every time Skull cooks, Billy is always sitting on the granite kitchen slab, juuuuust smiling at him, and annoying him, and eating sugar from the little box that’s labelled “Coffee”, because it got messed up once, and nobody bothered to change it.

And Bonus:

One of the only things that keeps Skull sane, in the world of the Coinless, is a Little Blue Ghostie, that floats around him, talks to him, pulls him back, when he feels like jumping off cliffs, reminds him to eat properly, hugs him when life feels wrong, and shares his bed, always giving him a feathery light, soft, but comforting touch. And sometimes hammering some sense into him.

And DOUBLE BONUS:

Skull: OMG I FINALLY DID THE THING!!!

Billy: what thing??

Skull: THE THING I BEEN PROCRASTINATING ON FOR SO LONG!!!

Billy: Oh Nice! Was it difficult??

Skull:

Skull: it took me like, two mins.

#Billy Cranston #Eugene Skullovitch #Spike Skullovitch #ALL THE FLOOF #power rangers #Mighty Morphin Power Rangers #boom! comics #power rangers Boom!comics #Billy x Skull #BillySkull #ONLY SOFT FLOOOOFIESSSS

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come-away-with-me87 · 9 months ago

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Love & Angst Chapter 10

Chapter 9 here

Warning: Just some more angst and sadness for poor Y/N. This chapter is based on the song "Without a Word" by Birdy.

******

"Stand there and look into my eyes And tell me that all we had were lies Show me that to you it don't count And I'll stand here if you prefer Yes I'll leave you without a word Without a word"

******

You woke up the next morning feeling very groggy, and with a headache worthy of a hangover. You knew the headache was from all that sobbing the night before, though. You went to your bathroom and grabbed some ibuprofen from your medicine cabinet. You remembered you left your phone on Do Not Disturb the night before. You couldn't lie to yourself, there was a small glimmer of hope in you that you would have a text from Shouta saying he made a huge mistake. Alas, that wasn't the case. Instead, you had six missed calls and even more text messages from Naomi. "CALL ME AS SOON AS YOU GET THIS" her last message stated. You knew she loved you and meant well, but you were still processing everything yourself, and didn't feel ready to talk about it yet with anyone.

As a courtesy to your best friend, you did call her, to which she picked up on the second ring. "ARE YOU OKAY, Y/N?!? Boss said you called off for the entire weekend! And that is NOT like you." All you told her was that Shouta broke up with you last night, but you weren't ready to talk about the details yet. You did promise her, however, that you would have her over soon and explain everything that happened. That seemed to appease her enough, and made you promise to talk about it with her soon and not let it fester all alone in your head. You made that promise to her. You two exchanged I love you's, and hung up the phone.

You decided against a shower and even changing out of your night clothes that morning. You went downstairs to make some coffee to see if that would also help with the headache. You had absolutely no appetite, so you didn't bother with breakfast. After drinking your cup of coffee, you went straight to your couch, laid down, and just stared straight ahead at the television that wasn't playing anything. And this is how you were for the entire weekend. You only got up to use the restroom, or to feed your cats. You still had no appetite, but you forced yourself to eat something small here and there so you wouldn't get sick.

You should have had Naomi come over, but instead did exactly what she didn't want you to do; let it fester in your head, all alone. Shouta said that you did nothing wrong, but you had to do *something* to make him break up with you. To fall out of love with you. The thought of that made you feel physically sick to your stomach, and you ended up running to your bathroom to throw up. Still, instead of calling Naomi, you went right back to your couch and laid in the same position. What went wrong? You were so happy and good together. You thought this was it for you; no man could ever make you feel the way he did. But suddenly, he didn't love you anymore. How does that even happen? You just laid there and stayed with these thoughts until it was time to go to bed.

You couldn't call off of your job from city hall on Monday; you had to go back to work and have some semblance of normalcy. You got ready for bed, and once again fell into a restless sleep where you tossed and turned all night. You got up the next morning to get ready for work. Normally, you loved your job at city hall, but today you were dreading going in. Nevertheless, you got ready for your day. You put the absolute minimum into your appearance that day, said goodbye to your cats, as you did every morning, and got into your car to go to work.

Thankfully for you, the workday was uneventful. You got home around 4:30pm, and thought to yourself that you left Naomi hanging long enough after not talking to her [or anyone] all weekend. You sent her a message asking if she wanted to come over that night, and you would explain everything that happened. She readily agreed, and said she would be there within the hour.

As expected, Naomi arrived to your house before the hour was over. The second you opened your door to welcome her in, she gave you the biggest bear hug. You couldn't help yourself at that point; you burst into tears the moment you hugged her back. "Oh, honey..." she exclaimed sadly, "come on, let's go talk." You two went inside and sat on your couch, where you told her everything that happened three nights before. How Shouta unexpectedly showed up to your house, how he seemed indifferent and monotone, how he came to the "realization" that he didn't want to be with you anymore, and worst of all when you asked him if he loved you, his replying that he didn't.

Needless to say, Naomi couldn't stay quiet after hearing all of this, calling Shouta every name in the book. You just let her go on; you knew she was saying all of this because she cared for you. Once she was done, she just looked at you and said, "I'm so sorry, Y/N. You don't deserve this." You just started crying again, leaning into her shoulder and practically soaking her shirt. After that, you two just sat there like that for a while. "Do you want me to stay with you tonight? I don't want to see you be alone," she asked. You thanked her for her sweet gesture, but told her would be okay by yourself. If you were able to get through the weekend, which was treacherous on its own, you could get through the next nights by yourself.

You two talked a little more, and said your goodbyes to each other. Before she walked out the door, though, she said "I mean it, if you need *anything*, I'm here. I don't care what time of day or night it is, I'll be there." You heart swelled up at that statement, and for the first time in three days, you cracked a small smile. "Thank you, Naomi, I love you." "I love you, too, Y/N." You two hugged one more time, and said your goodbyes again. You watched her get safely to her car, then closed and locked your front door. You then got ready for bed, knowing full well you had another restless night of sleep ahead of you. Little did you know, there was a figure keeping out of sight at the end of your street, watching your entire exchange at the door with Naomi.

******

To be continued!

#aizawa shota #aizawa #shota aizawa #aizawa angst #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa x y/n #eraserhead #bnha shouta aizawa #mha aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #aizawa shota x you #eraserhead x reader

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aonoexpat · 1 year ago

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05-11-2023 (3/3)

After getting Elrond back in working order, I said goodbye to Motueka (and a little baby Pīwakawaka who came to say goodbye back) and went on my way to Elaine Bay. I made a brief stop in Whakatū to get some groceries, and then drove down the road I mentioned in yesterday's post, which offered stunning views that were hard to photograph:

I had to fight not to get out of my car for photos at every turn. I spent the night there and in the morning I went back out to the water. The sun was shining brightly now and the water was just as clear as the night before, which meant I could see the fish, the starfish, and the absolutely massive stingrays I had been wise to avoid encountering in the dark last night:

I enjoyed the (still) lovely sunny weather by going on my last hike of the island: Pīwakawaka track, which led to a very peaceful little beach in about 45 minutes one way:

And despite my reluctance, after having lunch (cooking in Elrond for the last time) I had to get back on the road. I managed to take some more pretty pictures of the view:

I'll admit, I was very emotional during the hike and the drive. It really feels like the end of an era, and even though part of me never wants to leave, I feel like it's a good thing that it's ending. I have been alone for too long, and today I really felt that. Not only have I been physically alone, and dealing with a lot of stressful things, but this trip has also forced me out of my sociopolitical bubble and that has been unsettling to say the least. It has made me think a lot about what I find important, what home means to me, and how I want to live my life going forward. It's like I've stepped out of my comfort zone, and now have lost all sense of where it's supposed to be. I crave to go back, I'm homesick, but I know I've changed. I still am changing. I don't know what my comfort zone is supposed to look like anymore. I'm sure I'll find it again eventually, but that is a scary feeling. A feeling that makes me look forward to being hugged again, and having at least a little more normalcy and luxury than I have now. But that also makes it scary to step into a new chapter.

As I drove and listened to harmonious, pensive music, the clouds rolled in and it started raining. It didn't stop until about an hour ago. I still couldn't resist getting out of the car to take a photo at one of my trip's very first stops, Pelorus bridge:

I could almost see myself from four months ago right there, hanging out on the rocks and taking pictures. Feeling nervous and excited, the whole trip ahead of me. But also a lot less experienced, a lot more nervous about driving still, and in no way yet used to van life. I may still have so much to learn, but those things I feel like I well and truly have conquered, and I'm pretty proud of that.

I completed the way to Waitohi, recognising some stops along the way where I once stopped and took pictures and hiked. And then I finally made it to my first - and now also last - camping spot. I got myself some food, saw a familiar face (and told him how I remembered him, and he had made me feel welcome on my first day), and ate in Elrond while watching my favourite series. Now I'm just dreading the six minute walk to the closest public toilet, but I'll undertake that journey after finishing up all these posts!

Tomorrow I will take the boat back to Te Ikaroa, and hopefully get some rest. I'm already mentally preparing for the seasickness. I just hope the weather will stay dry now, and I can enjoy the views from the boat like I did last time!

For now, sweet dreams to Aotearoa, good afternoon to Europe. You'll hear from me again soon I hope!

#aotearoa #backpacking #van life

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lizzygrantarchives · 2 years ago

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Interview Magazine, February 14, 2023

FRIDAY 12:30 PM JAN. 13, 2023 LA

LANA DEL REY: How’s it going, sweet girl?

BILLIE EILISH: Lana, dude. Thank you for thinking of me. I am absolutely stoked out of my fucking mind.

[Laughs]

You were my lock screen on the first phone I ever got.

Oh my god.

I knew for months before I got my first iPhone that it was going to be that fucking photo of you with the bee on your lip.

You know what’s funny? That bee picture was for Interview Germany.

No way. I remember showing everybody. I grew up homeschooled, but we still had…

I’m so fucking jealous of that.

It was pretty tight, but we still had talent shows even though we didn’t have a school. I was all up in the talent show singing your stuff.

What?!

Dude, come on.

Do we have any footage? [Laughs]

Oh yeah. I sang “Brooklyn Baby” at the last one I did. I’d film myself covering your songs and pretend that I was gonna blow up on YouTube from them, and then they’d get two views.

And you did.

No I didn’t! [Laughs]

Well, later in life. I remember seeing the first videos of you singing and I said to my managers, “She’s the one.”

Oh my god.

I was like, “This is the girl. She isn’t just talented. You can tell she’s kind.” It didn’t feel like you were aspiring to be anything. It’s crazy to have that magical quality.

Lana, please. We’re here to talk about you, for the love of god. You’re putting out another album [Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd]. How are you feeling? Are you dreading it? Are you excited? Are you nervous?

All of it, as usual. At first, I was super excited because I started it with Mike Hermosa, a DP and cameraman who, as far as I knew, was not a musician. Every Sunday morning, he’d lie around and play these licks on his guitar. One day, I was like, “Do you think I could record that?” Then I’d sit down and start singing. After five months we went into the studio with the guys I know from Echo Park, like Drew Erickson, Benji, and Zach Dawes. Later, I found out they were composing for all these great people like Weyes Blood and Father John Misty and Pink Floyd. Mike was like, “I’ve never been in a studio, so I don’t really feel like I should be a session player.” And I was like, “I know it’s a lot to go into that ISO booth and play what we have been playing for fun, but just try it.” Then Drew would come in and record these beautiful strings. I would talk about wanting a little bit of a spiritual element and we talked about working with Melodye [Perry] and Pattie [Howard] and a couple of women who had toured with Whitney Houston, which was just unfathomable to me that I could be in the same room with them. So that started building one element of the sound for maybe one-fifth of the album.

Amazing.

For those nine months, I was as comfy as could be. Then, things started leaking and I wasn’t sure how. It brought back all this weird tension of, “I know it’s not about money, but what else are they seeing if they can somehow transcribe all the words in the song?” I started getting nervous about peripheral things, and then I told everyone I wanted to wait until August because I wasn’t feeling ready. Then, as things started to leak, I thought, “You know what? It has been done for a year, so I’ll just move ahead with it.”

Wow.

I feel differently on different days. It’s all about the process, not so much the results. Now, I feel good about it. The shoot we just had, that was the biggest production I’ve ever been on and it went so well. I was nervous about the interview, because when me and Mel [Ottenberg, Interview’s editor-in-chief] talked about it, I was like, it could only be only Billie or John Waters. When they said you wanted to do it, I was so happy.

I can’t believe you even thought of me. But dude, this has been done for a year?

September 2022 was the very last song I wrote. It’s a song called “Margaret,” about Jack Antonoff’s fiance [Margaret Qualley]. I was like, “You know what? I want to write a song for him.” It lands right in the middle of the album. It’s funny, this album felt totally effortless. When I did Norman Fucking Rockwell! it was about world-building, whereas this was straight vibing.

I love that. You can hear it in the music that you’re feeling yourself. It feels like you’re comfortable. You sound like you’re surrounded by good people. I would love to hear, specifically with this album, and also in general, how much of your writing is based on reality or fantasy or other people’s experiences. That was one of my biggest inspirations from you—your storytelling abilities and your ability to write from a character’s point of view. I find it a lot easier to write a song if it’s not about my life and if it’s not true. [Laughs]

Which is funny because they sound like they’re straight from you. Last night, I had a conversation with my friend Jack. Something had happened when he was in New York and he was telling me about it, and we were kind of worried. He was like, “I know you get it because you’ve gone through dot-dot-dot. You’re so brave.” I laughed and I was like, “Brave is the last word I would use to describe myself.” So much of my life is sitting at my metaphorical desk alone and writing. But with this album, the majority of it is my innermost thoughts. Some of the songs are super long and wordy like “Kintsugi” and “Fingertips.” I was almost nervous to send the voice notes to Drew Erickson.

Yeah.

I’d go on a seven-minute rant with a repetitive melody. It would be exactly what I was thinking about, mostly family and whether everything was going to pan out alright in the end. I had been reading so many articles that my father and I followed up on over the last ten years about the discovery of telomeres and the extinction of death and how we’ve always been edging towards this point in science where that would be a possibility. With my dad and my brother and sister all living together, that was on my mind. So much of this album is based on the concerns or hopes in my mind. With past stuff, I would talk about the garden of evil and good and bad, but I really was meeting some characters. Like they used to say, “When girls got to Hollywood, they were fresh off the boat.” I didn’t hear that term until later, but I did meet some people that I thought were really cool who were like, “Do you want to go to the Guns N’ Roses concert?” And I would be like, “Yeah.” Then, somehow I would be sitting in a garden and I would see David Lynch behind a red curtain with a cigarette. Some of the people I was hanging out with, I found out later, were unsavory characters, and so they played a part in the writing.

Right.

For instance, when I got to L.A. I was mostly touring. I didn’t know that many people. It took me a long time to figure out where my roots were. I had a lot of random experiences that I wrote about, and at the time, they made me really happy because I was like, “I’m not just watching someone else live their life, I’m living my life,” which was new for me because I’ve always been so shy. I don’t write well when I’m not happy, which is funny because there is a blue tone to the songs. It was like 90 percent reality. I think the storytelling vibe that people get is because I was just in awe of the things that were going on. Coming from a farming town, L.A. was never a possibility. My brother and sister and I always say, every time we drive through a perfectly symmetrical palm tree lane, we feel like we’re on a set. Maybe it was my lens on how heightened everything felt. God, I’m very long-winded. I just recently realized that I talk a lot.

[Laughs] I love it. I feel like I’ve never listened harder in my life. I feel like a student.

That makes me so happy. The one good thing about listening to this class is that I’m a trustworthy teacher. If anyone ever wants to learn how to get through a storm and know that all things pass, I can teach that class. [Laughs]

Yeah, man. You’ve also been doing this for so long.

I was just thinking about that.

I’m really curious, and you can feel free to say fuck off, but you are so romanticized online, specifically different eras of you and your music and your visuals. You were always the coolest of the cool in my world, but I was wondering if having older versions of yourself romanticized later in life might give you this feeling of, “When I was doing that, you guys did not give me that same validation and gratification.”

Yes. I was thinking about this last night actually, if it’s better to be initiated into that club where it’s like, “She’s wonderful,” right away. Once things grew on YouTube, I expected that there was going to be this very niche lane where I knew that I could thrive, but it didn’t really go that way. I quickly shifted right into the middle lane where everyone could see it and could hear the music. As soon as that happened, I knew I was in for it, but I didn’t know to what extent. In the beginning, I was following the mantra: “It’s all about how you feel, not about what other people think.” I had never thought that one day Bruce Springsteen would say something like, “I think she’s one of the most beautiful American songwriters” after Sasha Frere-Jones said, “Change your name, change your face, and try a new career,” and Jon Caramanica was going off about whatever—this was in The New Yorker and New York magazine, and I lived in New York. [Ed. note: The previous quote cannot verifiably be attributed to Sasha Frere-Jones. You can read his 2012 New Yorker piece on Ms. Del Rey here.] All of a sudden, I was walking down the street as I always did, and people would throw elbows at me. I was like, “Oh my god, no way did that actually happen. Someone recognized me and gave me a shove.” Or in San Francisco, I was eating at a bistro and a woman threw a book about feminism at my face. I thought I was completely in for it. I thought that all I could do was just keep touring. So, I toured for nine years and kept my head down. I didn’t think anything could ever get elevated to the point where, for instance, Interview magazine would say, “You’re on the cover.” Even still, it’s like, “Really?”

No way.

When things shift radically in your life you have to almost want to have a radical perspective shift. You can’t force it, but if you stay calm, all of a sudden, it comes. I know that the process I went through is not the process a lot of people went through. Everyone gets their fair share of think pieces, but there were definitely some 60-page articles about me being the face of feminine submission and the pro-domestic whatever. That was quite tough, because at the time, I was just trying to figure things out. Now, you hear a lot of singer-songwriters and rappers talking about how things really are in their lives, and a lot of it is super messy. And everyone’s like, “The storytelling is amazing, and I love that they’re baring it all.” I always felt with me that there was some catch-22 and I wasn’t sure what it was for a long time. Then, I cracked the code and realized they were tapping into the fact that there was something a little weird and different going on with me, but I didn’t really know that. And so it actually was a blessing because I got to figure out what they were tuning into—what they said was so dark—that I didn’t see. I was like, “What are they seeing in this shadow side that I’m not seeing?” That opened a door for me to think about the way everything had gone from when I was little up until now. And so, that was a very shrouded gift.

It’s so fascinating to hear you talk about that. I relate to so much of it. And also, this was all happening to you in such a different time.

The era was definitely different. I remember talking to friends at that time where they were like, “Are you afraid to make one misstep?” I was like, “Yeah, I do feel like one wrong step could ruin everything.” That’s why I was very tentative and didn’t talk too much. Whereas now, people have all these brand deals and things where it doesn’t really matter if something goes wrong, because there’s always the next thing.

But also, they don’t ever let anything go. You literally can’t make a single mistake ever. No matter what you do to redeem yourself, it doesn’t matter. They decide that’s who you are and that you deserve death.

Right. I think that also, people are being a lot more careful with what they say. I remember my first big interview with Rolling Stone for Ultraviolence. He asked me about the song “Sad Girl.” Where it goes: [sings] “I’m a sad girl, I’m a sad girl, I’m a sad girl.” He said, “At 29, don’t you feel uncomfortable calling yourself a girl?” I was like, “You mean instead of?” And he said, “Well, a woman. I mean, you’re like 30.” I was really caught off guard because I wanted to talk about how I mixed my own album with this guy Robert Orton. Then, I said, “Well, what about that Jennifer Lopez song [‘Girls’] or the Beyoncé song ‘Girls Run the World’? I think she’s older than me.” And he was like, “That’s different. That’s a fun song.” I don’t feel like those kinds of questions get asked anymore. For me, it was trial by fire. It’s definitely a different era now.

I have trouble remembering this when I feel very hated and disliked.

Which is such a crazy concept to me with you, but yes.

Well, you should know that in my eyes, you could do no wrong. But I have this inevitable feeling of, “Oh, everyone hates me.” With the world of TikTok and social media, there is a level where it’s kind of true, because there are these videos. I’m lying in bed last night, and I go on TikTok because I’m falling asleep, and I just want to be mindless for a second, watch some funny videos.

Totally.

I keep scrolling and I’m thinking, “Billie, put your phone away. You’re getting tired.” Then I swipe to the next one and it’s a video with millions of likes and it’s something about how I’m a horrible person. And all these comments are like, “I’m so glad that you guys are seeing through her.” And I’m like, “Damn.”

That is so hard for me to fathom. You know what I think? It’s always the nice ones. [Laughs] I feel you’re almost—I don’t know what the word is, not impermeable, but it’s almost like there’s a shield around you. I think that’s because you have revealed so much that there is nothing to say about you. With me, if people feel like there’s a veneer, there’s so much to reflect off of that. I’ve never read anything crazy about you until, of course, anytime dating comes into the picture, that’s whenever things get crazy for me, but then it goes away. But I always felt like there’s just such a warmth there between you and your family. It just made me feel like you’ve got that shield.

I do. It’s really true. You need to shut up about me because you’re being too serious. [Laughs]

I’m going to stop.

Also, you should know that any time you ever felt like any part of the world was against you, nobody else thought that. Because I find myself thinking everybody hates me when really, that’s such a tiny sliver of reality.

It can definitely limit your beliefs in terms of what the future holds. It’s like, “Is the way people talk about me going to change the way people relate to me every day?” Because every day is still so normal for me. I mean, there are things that are not normal, but I wanted to have the same encounters and be able to observe people in a coffee shop the way anyone would. If your circumstances are negative, of course you have to accept that, but it’s so important to not focus on a negative situation that you don’t really have anything to do with. It’s a ride that you’re on, and you have to just keep on tuning in to what you want.

Right.

Sometimes what I wanted was to move and be in the Midwest, and that clashed with what people thought was right. I had to dig really deep into my gut and be like, “Do you really want to do this? Do you want to make a career change?” Because I love to sing, but it’s been, like, 16 years or something. I felt like I had made this deal with the press, that because I hadn’t given very much information, I was entitled to a certain amount of privacy. But what was interesting is that it had the complete opposite effect. But it was so important for me to maintain this feeling that I could still go rogue, and I could still fucking have my ear to the streets and be at the same clubs as all my friends on the East Side.

Getting back to your music, I want to know about the album artwork. I want to know about where you were and what was going on and how you thought of the title.

Mike Hermosa and I, the first song we wrote was, “Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Blvd.” I was spending a lot of time in Long Beach and I had read that there was a tunnel sealed up under the Jergins [Trust] Building. All of the mosaic ceilings were still perfectly preserved, but no one could get in. I had also been listening to a lot of Harry Nilsson. He has this song called “Don’t Forget Me.” That sentiment plus this man-made tunnel that was sealed up but was so beautiful, I liked the idea of putting them together. I knew right off the bat that that was going to be the title. The artwork is by Neil Krug, who’s done a lot of my covers. My original cover was nude, then I thought about it, and I was like, maybe not right now, because there are some other things I want to do where I feel like that could get in the way. For each shot, we were really specific about the idea and the mood. He took 65 shots in a row and we used every single one of them, because I told him I didn’t want him to just shoot, shoot, shoot, I wanted to take my time and think about what I wanted to express in my face.

They’re so beautiful. I don’t know which one is the cover, but I saw a bunch of the shots.

That’s the other thing. At first, the title was definitely going to be Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd, and then I fucking panicked and I went to Neil’s house and said, “I know this is fucked up, but I’ve changed the title. It’s going to now be called, ‘Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd Pearl Watch Me on Ring a Bell Psycho Lifeguard.’” He was like, “What the fuck?” I was like, “I’m not telling anyone. Just mock it up.” He mocked it up, but we realized that maybe it was a bit much to have six titles in one. Then, he was like, “This is reminding me of a format that I’ve always wanted to play with. What if we just used one title, but then we filled the rest of the page with everyone who’s featured and everyone who engineered it?” He mocked that up on the portrait shot and I was like, “You did it.” That was a really psychotic day because I was like, “Am I willing to literally burn everything down to the ground by having some strange, nonsensical title?” But that’s a really good lesson because even with the nude photo, it was like, I might not have used it, but there’s definitely something there. The idea behind it was, instead of being exposed for things that weren’t true, I wanted to reveal something about myself that I actually thought was beautiful, but in the end, I got nervous about doing that because I was like, “Is this an artistic inspiration that came to me or is this a reaction to something I feel is critical about me?” I never liked to do anything in response to something that’s fear-based or based on what people think about me. I don’t know if that’ll ever come out, but if it did, I would just want to make sure it came out when I thought it was super fun and not because I had to show something to people. That part of the process was a little tumultuous, because I was feeling open, but then I closed down again and wanted to play it safe. But the good thing is that the songs are so wordy that if you listen to them carefully, they’re revealing in the same way the photo would’ve been. I was like, “Okay, I’ll let the songs do the talking for now.”

Yeah, man. You really paved the way for everyone. People have been trying to look and sound like you since you first started. I talk about this with Finneas [Eilish’s brother]. You changed the way the music industry hears and sees music, and you changed the way people sing.

[Laughs] That’s amazing because you do that.

It’s because of you, dude.

The only thing that matters is that I like it and that you and people in your world like it, because for me, it’s about separating the wheat from the shaft. Tapping in with good people and letting that be your North Star. Actually, the text you sent me out of the blue—I don’t even know how you got my number—was on one of the craziest days where I was sitting in front of the Burbank Airport watching the planes take off, which I had never done before. I was sitting on the side of the road because that day I had to make a really important decision. I was feeling really nervous about it, because I’m always the kind of person who doubles back on my important decisions. Then, you literally texted me saying something like, “I love you, and without you, I wouldn’t have been able to do certain things.” I texted my friend Anne, and I was like, “I made the right decision because Billie texted me.” I thought I needed to hear something completely different from someone else, and I got this awesome synchronicity that let me know I was in the right place at the right time.

Wow.

I will also say, in terms of everyone who’s paved the way for me, the way Cat Power delivered her songs in the ’90s and in the early 2000s, and even now—we’ve toured together and I’ve told her so many times, “I should be opening for you.” I was a high soprano, which you can kind of tell in the way that I talk, but her low tones, I would practice them the way she sang that song where she’s like, [sings] “Bay-be-doll.” I was like, “Oh my gosh, I could sing like that.” I realized I had a low register too. And when I learned that she played a big concert in New York with her back turned to the audience, that was when I realized I might have a chance. Then, I watched this documentary when I was 20 called The Devil and Daniel Johnston with my boyfriend at the time, Artie Levine, and seeing that Daniel was super different and he had a bit of a cult following, I realized there might be a chance here. I definitely had my muses, but it was so much later on in life because I didn’t move to New York until I was 18, and that was when I first heard anything other than Eminem, country, and NPR. All of a sudden, I got a fucking crash course in music.

Everything you’re saying is blowing my mind out of my skull. You will never understand how much of an impact that you have had on me in my life.

I definitely won’t, I can promise you that. But you know what? If it did anything for you, how amazing is that? Because you actually like what you do.

God, dude. Okay, well, I have to go, but I just want to say that I am always going to ride and die for you. I’m so excited about this album. I’m telling you right now, you’re the coolest of the cool.

That is hilarious.

Well, you need to shut the fuck up and listen.

Here’s the thing. It’s good to know that the coolest of the cool can still be so messy because it’s like—

It doesn’t matter.

There’s no competition. Your life is your art. I just feel lucky that you said yes, because I couldn’t see it any other way.

Thank you for thinking of me at all.

It’ll be such a blessing to look back on when this prodigious girl—woman—reminded me of the fact that there are so many ways to look at things, and that it’s all a matter of perspective. The only thing that matters is that the people that you’re obsessed with, like the way I am with you, love your stuff too. It’s such a beautiful place to start creating from. Thank you for that.

Thank you. Oh my god.

Our little flattery interview, but honestly, that’s how it is. It was always you.

Originally published on interviewmagazine.com with the headline Lana Del Rey and Billie Eilish Fall in Love, and in the March 2023 issue of Interview with the headline Lana Del Rey by Billie Eilish.

#2023 #Did You Know That There's a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd #Interview Magazine #Billie Eilish

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leonbloder · 11 months ago

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Emptying The Storehouse

Some days, it's just hard to get out of bed.

Granted, the older I get, the more difficult it is to get my limbs to cooperate when I first rise. Everything pops and cracks like the floor of an old house when you walk on it.

But it's more than just the discomfort of joints and aching muscles that makes me want to stay in bed some days---it's a sense of dread or of feeling overwhelmed by the day ahead.

Sometimes, it's the lingering effects of whatever kept me up the night before, too.

Over the past months, I have had more than a few nights when my thoughts were spinning, ideas forming, plans swirling, and worries abounding, and I lay awake, knowing that sleep wouldn't happen for a while.

I think too much… I think.

I'm not alone in this. I'm certain that more than a few of you are reading this Devo today who resonate entirely with what I'm saying.

I read a beautiful prayer the other day by Kate Bowler (who is becoming a go-to source of inspiration for me), and I thought I would share it:

Bless me, God, crowded out by all that I've endured. Unburden me, packed so tightly In the memories of those who loved me best (and worst, if I'm being honest). Relieve me of every fresh wave of guilt of all I've already forgotten.

Bless me with enough forgetfulness to notice the way the sun is demanding another day and you can mind the storehouse of all I've loved while there is still time to gather more.

There's so much going on in this prayer, and it absolutely speaks to me, and I hope it does to you as well.

The prayer acknowledges something incredibly vulnerable about the person who is praying: They are filled to the brim with memories and thoughts that keep them from being able to take in one more thing.

They have been relitigating the past, thinking about all of the ways they have failed before, which spell some kind of doom for them in the future.

But then there's a shift as the prayer begins to remind the pray-er that God can "mind the storehouse" if they want to let go of their fullness and become empty again to receive whatever the day has to bring.

And then the last line… "while there is still time to gather more…"

I love this because it speaks to the brevity of life and how precious each day we are given truly is. This kind of reminder can get us out of bed each day and give us the strength to empty ourselves of everything that keeps us feeling "packed so tightly."

If you have yet to say a prayer this morning, try praying the one I've shared or your own version of it. What matters is not what you say but what you mean when you say it.

There's a day stretching before you with much to offer if you embrace the gifts it brings. May you find the emptiness that comes from trusting God with your stuff. May you discover peace as you let yourself be filled with goodness, grace, and love.

And may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you now and always. Amen.

#presbymusings #leonbloder #dailydevotional #christian living #dailydevo #dailydevotion #faith #spiritualgrowth #spirituality #leon bloder #surrender

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xbakajanaino · 1 year ago

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It’s been one month. One month since I’ve lost you, my best friend. The sun hasn't shined brightly and the grass doesn’t look as green. It feels like the whole world has stopped moving since you left. Everything that once was beautiful and colorful turned dull and grey. I still find myself expecting to talk to you everyday. Expecting to hear your laugh and joke with you. But now all I'm met with is silence.

I miss you so much. Everyday without you has been absolute torture. It was such a simple mistake and yet it has cost me everything. I remember telling you that I wanted to prioritize our friendship over everything else. And I meant it. I would rather go through hell than lose you. You were the one person I trusted with my life. The one person who knew how I was truly feeling at any given moment. The only person I was ever completely honest with. We've been friends for so long, we've shared secrets, dreams, fears, and we've helped each other through some of the hardest moments of our lives. We've cried, laughed, and everything in between together. But above everything, we had fun together. I've always been happy around you. That's why losing you has been so hard.

I've spent every day regretting that one moment. If I had just taken the time to think, to breathe, none of this would have happened. I would be able to wake up everyday and smile because of the thought of talking to you. I wouldn't be dreading the day ahead. I wouldn't be constantly crying or wishing for you to come back. You were the best thing in my life.

I don’t know how you’re adapting. I don’t know if you’re doing any better or if everything has been ok. I dont know what it is but I can’t adapt. I can barely drag myself out of bed to go to work, let alone get up at a decent time in the morning anymore. It hurts me so much to think of how much pain I have caused you. How I've broken our bond. I wish I could change the past and make everything ok again. I wish I could fix my mistake.

It's been a month and I'm still struggling. A part of me hopes that things are different where you are. That maybe, just maybe, things are ok. That you can find peace and that the pain will go away. You've been my light, my sunshine.

But I can't keep thinking about you like this. Because as much as I want to see you and talk to you again, I know that's not possible. And as much as I love you, it's killing me inside. It's killing me not knowing if you're happy or if you're suffering. It's killing me that I can’t speak with you and tell you everything is going to be alright. But I guess that's life. It's not always fair. And it's never easy.

I miss you everyday. Everyday I remember you and all the good times we've had together. The good memories are what keep me going, even if just a little. And even though it doesn’t feel like things will ever be the same again, I promise you that I'll continue fighting. Because I know that's what you would want me to do.

You are forever my best friend and the person who's impacted my life the most. I can only hope that I will be able to repay the kindness you've shown me throughout the years.

I love you, my dearest friend.

I hope I hear from you some day.

#sad thoughts #sad quotes #unsent letters #personal

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capseycartwright · 2 years ago

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august slipped away into a moment in time

buck was - maybe, just maybe - behind in setting up his first-grade classroom, and eddie is the new caretaker on campus who keeps offering to help him out.

or - buck is a first grade teacher and eddie is the school caretaker with a crush.

ao3 link

There was something strange about your life revolving around the school semester as an adult. Buck knew he wasn’t an unusual case - every school needed adults to teach the children, after all - but he still found it funny, sometimes, to operate on the same schedule as a first grader. September signalled the start of it all, summer slowly, slowly, surely, turning to autumn, though not in that same crisp way it did in Pennsylvania: autumn was just a slightly less warm version of summer, here in Los Angeles, but that didn’t stop the same back-to-school excitement from bubbling in Buck’s chest as summer turned to fall, hot, sticky July days spent at the beach and babysitting Jee-Yun, turning to busy August days when Buck needed to get his classroom ready for the year ahead.

Buck loved August. He hadn’t always - when he was in school himself, August always came with a sense of dread, because the school semester meant expectations from his parents, he had never been able to live up to. How could he, when he was trying to live up to the memory of someone who would forever be perfect, unaffected by the woes of adulthood and not living up to your parents dreams for you by virtue of the fact he was always only ever going to be eleven years old. Buck wasn’t bitter towards a dead child: really, he wasn’t, and he knew how it sounded, but he was doing his best to forgive himself for the ways he was figuring out how to process his trauma.

It was what made him a good teacher, Buck had long since decided: his empathy, the way he looked out for the quiet kid in his class because he knew the difference between being the shy kid, and the kid who hated when the bell would go at the end of the day because it meant he had to go home and that wasn’t an appealing prospect for every kid. Buck - well, he tried to make it so that his classroom was a safe haven, and he couldn’t do that if -

“Hank, my window is broken,” Buck sighed, doing exactly what he always did when he had an issue in his classroom, barging right into the caretaker’s cupboard to annoy Hank - except Hank wasn’t the one in there. In place of the older man Buck took absolute delight in winding up from one end of the year to the next, Hank always huffing exasperatedly and telling Buck to get out from under his feet, there was the most gorgeous man Buck had ever seen in his twenty-seven years of life.

Buck had a tendency to be dramatic, he knew, but in this instance, he was not being dramatic at all. The man was gorgeous, all big brown eyes and a startled expression. He was wearing a flannel shirt, rolled to the elbow, his work trousers looking as though they’d just been taken out of the packet that morning, crisp and perfect. “You’re not Hank,” he said stupidly.

The stranger shook his head. “Hank - uh, he’s sick,” he said. “I’m - I’m temporary Hank?”

“Well, temporary Hank,” Buck couldn’t help but grin, slightly. “Have you got a name of your own?”

Temporary Hank laughed. “Yeah, I’m - I’m Eddie,” he introduced, offering Buck a hand. His grip was firm, calloused skin warm against the palm of Buck’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I - how can I help?”

“My classroom window is broken,” Buck repeated, and he just about held back from adding on a ‘and I don’t have your number, so you could help with that too’ because it was probably rude to harass the new school caretaker on his first day.

Eddie gave him a dazzling smile, kind and genuine and Buck’s known this man for roughly five minutes, and he already wants to kiss the air out of his lungs. He can be normal about this. “Let me grab my toolkit,” he said. “And I’ll come see what the problem is.”

read the rest on ao3

#911 fox #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #in which i ramble #in which lorna writes fic #anyways this entire fic is silly hope u enjoy

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pokemonispain · 2 years ago

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Ignored until further notice- Scaramouche & Tartaglia

Summary: Set back during when Childe was a Fatui Recruit, in which he finds himself incredibly sick with the flu.

Most Fatui recruits joined fairly young at least among its human and beast-man members, either they were inducted in as kids or young teenagers. Some came from the orphanage belonging to the Harbinger Arlecchino, some signed up of their own accord, and finally some typically the more unruly children or teenagers were sighed up to the fatui by their parents.

A method of disciplining and ��straightening them out’ so to speak. This reason was why Ajax at age 14 was enlisted by his father into the Fatui. And that was also why he was currently out in the middle of the snowy wilderness, with a bunch of other fatui recruits, soldiers, and two of the harbingers.

Two of the more, feared harbingers to be exact, Lord Scaramouche the 6th harbinger, and Lady La Signora the 8th harbinger. Both were rather fierce when it came to dealing with their subordinates, often dishing out punishment for the simplest of reasons.

Lord Scaramouche in particular was the worse among the two, often electrocuting subordinates to amuse himself or worst. He seemed to have complete and utter contempt for those beneath him and for those around him.

Out of the two, he was definitely the one, every recruit dreaded.

Sighing softly Ajax discreetly brings a hand to his stomach clutching at it when another cramp twisted at his stomach rather violently. A wave of nausea rolled over him and he swallowed thickly before taking a deep shuddering breath in.

To put it simply Ajax had awoken in the makeshift barracks for the recruits feeling like complete and utter absolute shit, a fever so hot raging through his body that it made the icy winds and snow of the snezhnayan wilderness feel incredibly refreshing, his stomach was in agony to put it simply as if it were being squeezed in a vice grip.

Even worse than the stomach ache, the way his head was pounding violently and the horrible fever was the nausea, however. The violent nausea churning in his stomach that he’d woken up to, that’d made him gag silently into his pillow this morning, although he’d brought up nothing but stringy salvia, his stomach being entirely empty since he’d only eaten a minuscule amount last night due to feeling queasy and off.

And yet with his joints aching and screaming at him, and his stomach in knots he’d gone to the make-shift mess hall tent and got something to eat, after all, he knew he had a rather long day of training and hard work ahead of him not to mention depending on which harbinger of the two harbingers he was assigned to today, he may not get a chance to eat lunch later.

At the moment though he was definitely regretting it considering the meal sat in his stomach like a heavy rock, weighing it down and simply making it ache worse.

Ajax muffled a hiccup into his hand when it bubbled up his throat, it brings with it the faint taste of old greasy meat and salt which makes him shudder as he clutched at his stomach absentmindedly at this point, his gaze down the ground as the two Harbingers gave orders.

“Wish I had been assigned to Lord Capitano…” Ajax whispered under his breath his fever-fueled haze blanketing his mind, making it wander.

Ajax’s grip on his stomach tightened a bit when it gave a low sickly growl beneath his fingers and he swallowed thickly.

It was a strange feeling honestly the way his stomach seemed to shift beneath his fingers, it wasn’t painful but definitely a bit disorienting.

He discreetly muffles a soft yet distinctly nauseated-sounding hiccup into his hand as he closes his eyes for a moment taking a few deep breaths in.

Ajax simply needed to hold it together until his shift was over and his work was done. He could do this, he’d faced greater challenges before.

~~~

Perhaps Ajax had angered her majesty in some fashion, he didn’t know what specifically he could have done but it must’ve been something egregious for him to be assigned under the 6th Harbinger of all people.

Ajax pauses for a moment in the middle of his task, he’s not the only recruit working at the moment in the area, others mill around him, moving the materials here and there not wanting to be on the receiving end of Scaramouche’s wrath.

Ajax closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his hand hovering discreetly over his stomach for a moment. A slight grimace tugging at his lips his stomach makes a low, gurgling noise and twists with a harsh cramp sending a deep ache darting against the surface of his stomach.

His stomach felt as if it were tying itself in a knot, churning violently as waves of intense nausea washed over him. He felt as if he were melting into a puddle, the icy winds of Snezhnaya doing little to nothing against the harsh fever raging through his body.

Opening his eyes Ajax sighed softly, he couldn’t really ignore it any longer, no matter how much he wanted to. He was sick and it was beginning to impede his ability to do his duties, that fact truthfully tasted more bitter than the bile bubbling at the back of his throat.

Ajax turns around and begins making his way to Scaramouche’s tent, he knows his chance of Scaramouche of all people letting him rest was next to none. Hell, the 6th harbinger was more likely to simply kill him where he stood for disturbing him.

Still, Ajax takes a deep breath as he approaches the familiar figure in front of the large rather luxurious tent. He didn’t know if it was the adrenaline, nervousness, or whatever he was sick with that had his hands trembling.

“Lord Balladeer-“ Ajax began doing his best to keep his voice steady.

“What,” Scaramouche’s words are as curt as usual, not even sparing Ajax a glance. Truthfully this does not make Ajax feel as if the task is less daunting even though it wasn’t an unexpected reaction from Scaramouche.

“Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you but I was wondering if you would allow me to rest? I feel really sick,” Ajax asked, his gaze on the ground. There’s a desperate, almost slightly pleading edge to his voice that Ajax dislikes, however, he can do little about it.

Especially when he feels his stomach suddenly slosh, causing him to swallow thickly in an effort to clear the near river of saliva building up in his mouth.

At Ajax’s words, Scaramouche raises his head, glaring at the boy with narrow eyes. “You what brat?”

Ajax pauses for a moment, a slight grimace tugging on his features. And now that Scaramouche is actually looking at him, he’d admit that the boy looked incredibly pale.

While Scaramouche didn’t care to learn the faces and names of his subordinates more often than not but this recruit he remembered specifically because not only was he a handful to deal with often fighting with other recruits in droves, but also because of his nearly lifeless dark blue eyes which didn’t seem possible for a human to have honestly.

At the moment though those eyes were glassy, as if the boy was on the verge of tears. Something feels strangely off to Scaramouche as he stares at the boy for a moment but honestly, he could care less.

“I…I feel really sick. My stomach hurts so I was wondering if you would please let me rest Lord Balladeer,” Ajax eventually managed to say.

At his words Scaramouche rolled his eyes, honestly, he should probably be impressed by Ajax’s sheer shameless audacity. But he knows it’s more than likely stupidity than anything.

“Get back to work before I throw you off the nearest cliff,” Scaramouche told him, his usual piercing glare still in place.

Scaramouche expects him to continue to badger him at that moment, after all, he’d heard word of just how annoying this specific recruit could be but instead, the boy goes silent.

A moment later he speaks, his voice is quiet, muted even. “Right. Yes Lord Harbinger.”

With that matter seemingly solved, Scaramouche's attention turns to the other subordinates who are still doing their tasks.

Scaramouche is not expecting the boy to come back two more times each about fifteen minutes later.

The second time he had returned his hand clutching at his stomach like an open wound, his voice raspy as he once again asked Scaramouche if he could take a moment to rest because he felt sick, and his stomach was hurting.

This time Scaramouche simply ignored him, not even bothering to waste his breath. Although for some strange reason he finds himself feeling strangely unsettled when he watched the boy stagger away.

It shouldn’t have made him feel anything truthfully besides maybe some relief that the boy seemed to be finally getting it through his thick skull.

That is until the boy comes back once more, his eyes seemed glassy and unfocused and his breathing harsh and shuddering as he speaks. “L-Lord Harbinger I-I-“ he begins.

Scaramouche cuts him off when he fires a bolt of electro at his feet, and Ajax stumbled back on unsteady feet.

Scaramouche does look at him this time, and the sheer fury in his eyes lets Ajax know that he’s poked the bear one too many times.

And when Scaramouche speaks the words “Come here” his tone is as commanding as usual Ajax can’t help but wonder if he’s feeling dread settle in the pit of his stomach or sheer nausea.

He follows Scaramouche as quickly as he can, his legs trembling not from fear by from the dizziness making his head spin and his stomach.

Ajax’s breaths shudder in his chest, each one making the back of his throat spasm slightly as it threatened to make him gag.

His thoughts are fuzzy, slipping between his fingers before they can fully form.

The normally cold winds of Snezhnaya, so harsh that they felt as if they would rub a person’s skin raw, do nothing to break through the heat boiling in his body.

Ajax’s hand clutches tightly at his stomach when a cramp twists at it, causing a harsh, deep ache to erupt along the surface of his stomach before quickly spreading outward.

He can’t help but curl in on himself slightly as he walks, it felt as if someone had his stomach in a vice grip.

Ajax is a very resilient person, some out of choice most out of necessity but he truly doesn’t know how much more he can take.

Darkness creeps on the edges of his vision as he stumbles to a stop, he can hear Scaramouche saying something no doubt either instructions or simply degrading him.

But none of it makes its way through to Ajax, sounding like little more than muffled rambling as if coming to him from underwater.

Another cramp twists at his stomach, the relentless waves of nausea that had been torturing him this entire time suddenly spiking. A low nauseated hiccup pries itself from his lips, bringing with it the faint taste of grease and fish.

Ajax can’t stop the low weak groan that leaves his mouth as he swallowed thickly, the saliva that’s now rapidly flooding his mouth makes him feel as if his throat is sticking together.

Feeling his stomach gurgle harshly beneath his hand, Ajax stopped walking, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as the back of his throat spasms and he gags weakly tasting bile bubbling at the back of his throat, hot and disgustingly bitter.

He glances up, narrowing his eyes as he attempts to focus his blurring vision. Ajax can just about make out Scaramouche’s figure quite a ways away from him, seemingly unaware that Ajax had stopped walking and was no longer following him.

A part of Ajax is grateful for that, it meant that he could slip away unnoticed. Maybe even collapse somewhere to rest for a bit, anything that would ease the fact that his body seemed out to destroy him.

His stomach feels as if it’s stuffed full of lead honestly, sloshing and swirling violently as Ajax began trudging away.

He doesn’t make it far, however, as his very next step has a wave of dizzying nausea washing over him, his stomach sloshing like an overfilled glass and he stumbles falling to his knees.

A harsh retch pries itself from his mouth, scraping across his throat as it brings a surge of hot, almost searing, watery vomit with it. The mess coats his hand in an instant, as it sprays between the cracks in his fingers splattering the ground before him.

A taste as rancidly sour as spoiled meat coats his tongue, combined with a sharp bitter almost chalky taste much like poison mixed with stale grease.

Ajax shakily lowered his soiled hand from his mouth, as he panted harshly, threads of drool dripping lazily from his lips onto the thick puddle of vomit that was sitting in the snow.

Heat prickles at his skin, followed by a chill as the darkness at the edges of his vision begins to grow and spread.

All at once, he feels as if he can’t draw in enough air, as if it evaporates before reaching his lungs.

A low weak groan leaves his mouth as he sways in place, his eyes fluttering and the strength bleeding from his limbs.

Ajax is unconscious before he falls to the ground.

It takes a moment or two for Scaramouche to realize that the boy was no longer behind him.

Irritation wells up inside of him as he quickly scans the area, eventually pausing when he catches sight of the familiar black and red garb belonging to Ajax’s Fatui recruit uniform, as well as that familiar orange hair.

With a huff Scaramouche makes his way to Ajax, muttering curses under his breath. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing brat.”

Strangely enough, though Ajax doesn’t respond, and as Scaramouche draws closer an insult ready on his tongue only to pause, a frown tugging at his lips when he sees Ajax collapsed in a heap in the snow, laying on his side and his face concealed.

The snow, a few inches away from him is strangely discolored, with a beige, light brownish tint to it.

“What in the…” Scaramouche muttered as he nudged the boy slightly with his shoe.

No response, Ajax simply lay there as if dead to the world.

“Didn’t you hear me? Get up,” Scaramouche snapped as he grabbed Ajax’s shoulder and rolled him onto his back.

Scaramouche froze once Ajax was laying on his back. The boy didn’t look good at all, his face was heavily flushed pink and lined with sweat despite the frigid cold air surrounding them.

His breathing was incredibly harsh, shuddering, and raspy, his eyes shut tight.

Scaramouche’s frown deepened in confusion, something was clearly wrong with Ajax but Scaramouche can’t ever recall seeing someone in a state like this.

He instinctively reaches out, cupping Ajax’s cheek, a small sharp hiss leaving his lips when he feels the heat practically rolling off of the boy’s cheek.

Humans weren’t supposed to be this hot were they? Not only that but the boy seemed to be in pain and struggling to breathe.

A weak, raspy whimper leaves Ajax’s mouth. It’s a pitiful sound much like one an injured or terrified animal may make.

Scaramouche’s frown deepened further in a mixture of concern and confusion rather than anger. For a moment he simply stares at Ajax.

Up close like this and in his current state Scaramouche could see just how young the boy was. Even by human standards, he was a helpless brat.

Scaramouche sighed as he drew his hand away from the boy’s cheek. He briefly looked up in the direction they’d come from before he returned his eyes to Ajax.

He didn’t know what exactly was wrong with Ajax but he would at least take him to the infirmary, telling himself that he was only doing it because he didn’t want to listen to Pullencia whine about the boy’s corpse not being able to be found and returned to his family.

As Scaramouche gathered Ajax into his arms, he does his best to ignore the lingering feeling of guilt that wells up inside of him. After all, if Ajax was actually feeling so bad he should’ve said something to Scaramouche.

The thing was Ajax had complained multiple times, even to the point of annoying Scaramouche. But that was genuinely all that it seemed like it was at the time, complaining.

“So fucking annoying,” Scaramouche huffed under his breath.

The listless form in his arms whimpers, shifting slightly as Ajax curls in on himself. Ajax’s hand is clutching weakly at his stomach as if trying to put pressure on a wound which points to that being a likely culprit for whatever was wrong with him. At least if Scaramouche had to guess.

~~~

The trek back to the main campsite is long and the one to the infirmary even longer.

The infirmary is empty oddly enough, not a soul insight. Then again most recruits hid injuries the best they could or at least tried to work despite the pain especially when Scaramouche and La Signora of all people were in charge. And many of the recruits preferred to simply rest in their barracks if they had the choice.

Scaramouche is hardly gentle as he places Ajax down on one of the cots, with the boy groaning as he’s laid down.

He’s shivering now as well, Scaramouche notices which made no sense to Scaramouche considering the heat rolling off Ajax’s skin, as well as the well-insulated coat he was wearing.

Honestly, it didn’t really matter, did it? He’d done his due diligence so he could just leave the boy here for whatever healer may come by to fix him.

For a moment though Scaramouche simply stares at the boy, a deep frown on his face. Something…he couldn’t shake the odd feeling that something was seriously wrong here.

Despite his body being so hot, the poor boy was shivering, soft noises of discomfort or pain leaving his mouth. Each breath he took was raspy and strained the noise wheezing in his chest.

His hand was still clutching at his stomach as well, his grip having tightened on it during the trip here.

His fingers were almost digging into the area, as if he were trying to rip the organ out through his clothing.

All of it was strangely unsettling to Scaramouche and he finds himself unable to really explain why.

As Ajax whimpers again Scaramouche finds himself reaching out, laying a hand on his cheek with a scowl. The brat really was helpless in every sense of the word.

However as Ajax begins to shift slightly in the cot, his eyes opening slightly, Scaramouche quickly draws back his eyes slightly wide.

Crossing his arms with a sigh, Scaramouche speaks. “What’s wrong with you?” His question is direct and asked more from curiosity than anything but he hopes that it’ll help ease the strange feeling of unease blanketing him.

Ajax’s eyes are glassy giving him a heavily dazed look as they rove around the infirmary slowly, seemingly not really registering anything.

Ajax feels absolutely horrible at the moment, everything is far too hot and bright, the world a blur of fuzzy swirling colors. The fog blanketing his mind is incredibly thick, barely allowing a coherent thought through. He does sense a presence with him, letting him know that someone is in the room with him.

But even between the fog, dizziness, and fever, one thing does manage to get through, the absolute dizzying nausea that’s making his stomach slosh violently.

The saliva flooding his mouth is impossible to get rid of. Each time he swallows, he can taste the bitter aftertaste of bile left over from his previous vomiting episode.

Scaramouche watches as the boy squeezes his eyes shut, and what little color he seems to have in his face slowly drains away leaving his complexion an almost sickly gray with a slight green tinge. Which doesn’t look good at all and perhaps if Scaramouche knew a bit more about humans he may have been able to determine exactly what was about to happen.

Eventually, Ajax does speak, his words slurred heavily with nausea. “Trashcan…I-I need-“ Ajax is cut off when a rather loud, wet, nauseated hiccup bubbles out of him jolting his body slightly.

“What,” Scaramouche asked, just able to make out Ajax’s mumbling.

A strange gurgling noise comes from deep within the boy’s throat sounding almost as if he were drowning. This time Ajax speaks his words are tinged with urgency and what sounds almost like panic.

“B-bucket….trashcan…I…” Ajax manages to say as the salvia flooding his mouth takes on a metallic taste. It becomes too much to swallow back, trickling from the corners of his mouth as a heavily slurred groan leaves his lips.

Ajax can hear whoever is in the room with him speak, the tone is what he recognizes more than the words. A familiar, demanding, curt tone that lets him know that the person in the room with him is Scaramouche.

It is just as he realizes this that his stomach makes a nearly downright sickening growling noise, practically rippling beneath his fingertips.

Ajax has just enough awareness to quickly lean over the edge of the cot as his stomach heaves violently. His breathing shudders, hitching as a surge of vomit suddenly gurgles up his throat.

In his disoriented and weakened state though he isn’t able to do much to stop it, much less aim where it’s going to go.

A guttural, strangled retch tears from Ajax’s lips, turning wet on the tail end as a large surge of semi-watery vomit spews from his mouth, splattering the floor of the infirmary with a sickening splash, sounding a lot like someone pouring a large bowl of water on the floor.

Ajax just about registers the strange noise Scaramouche makes, something that sounds like a mix between a loud hiss of disgust and a sound that a startled cat may make.

And he can’t tell if it’s the sheer shame and embarrassment he feels at the moment that’s making his face feel hot or the fever wreaking havoc on his body.

He doesn’t get much time to dwell on it however when his stomach lurches again, its contents sloshing and boiling inside of it desperately trying to claw their way out.

Scaramouche stumbles back away from Ajax with wide startled eyes, unsure of what exactly was happening.

Ajax is leaning over the edge of the bed, threads of discolored, cloudy drool drip from his lips into the large glistening soup-like puddle of vomit on the floor as he pants and gasps for air.

Ajax gagged harshly, the noise sounding so utterly horrible and violent that even Scaramouche couldn’t help but wince. A deep gurgling noise comes from the back of Ajax’s throat making him sound almost as if he’s drowning. His body lurches forward, a shuddering breath slipping from between his lips as a near river of drool pours in threads from his open mouth.

A loud, thick, wet, burp rumbles out of him, seemingly coming from somewhere deep within the boy’s chest, bringing with it another surge of semi-watery vomit gurgling up his throat, his cheeks briefly bulging out as they quickly filled up before overflowing. It was thicker this time with a consistency like oil paint as it poured from his mouth almost lazily.

Scaramouche may not have known much about humans but he was definitely sure that this shouldn’t be happening, from the looks of things not to mention the rancid sour smell like spoiled milk that filled the air at the moment Ajax’s organs were coming out of his mouth.

It was the only explanation that seemed to make sense honestly.

Ajax groaned loudly as he lay slumped there over the edge of the bed, thick threads of drool and bile dripping lazily from his lips and into the puddle of large vomit on the floor. He’s panting harshly, his glassy eyes fluttering as if he were fighting to stay awake.

“You-“ Scaramouche begins after a moment but flinches, cut off when Ajax’s body jerks with a harsh gag.

A smaller surge of watery vomit spraying from his mouth and adding to the sickening puddle in front of him, followed by a low wet exhale as he goes limp, panting harshly and his eyes half-lidded, a heavily dazed look on his face.

“Hey…what’s wrong with you,” Scaramouche asked as he glanced between the mess on the floor and Ajax, doing his best to ignore the rancid scent wafting through the air. It smelled like spoiled or rotting food, a scent even Scaramouche was familiar with.

Ajax doesn’t answer him as he simply lays there glassy eyes transfixed on the floor, threads of bile and drool dripping from his lips.

Scaramouche shifts for a moment gritting his teeth, seeing this boy, Ajax like this feels…wrong somehow. As if Scaramouche were seeing some abnormality. It’s unnerving.

Sighing loudly Scaramouche turns around and begins making his way to the front of the tent, for a moment he pauses though, the sound of Ajax’s weak raspy breathing practically scraping against his ear drums. “You’re so annoying,” Scaramouche huffed under his breath.

While Scaramouche wasn’t human and had never been so, there is someone he can technically go to at the moment who did have a somewhat decent grasp on humans to get answers. He hated having to do it though.

It was just so he didn’t need to listen to Pullencia’s whining, and Dottore’s complaining about losing an interesting test subject. That was all it was.

And that’s what he tells himself as he leaves the infirmary in search of La Signora.

~~~

He finds the woman in her usual spot as expected, in her tent luxurious but gaudy in his opinion, with a glass of wine in hand as she sat in a chair, her legs crossed and her other hand holding a few sheets of parchment she seemed to be looking through.

“Get out.” Those are the first words out of La Signora’s mouth when Scaramouche enters her tent, knowing that presence anywhere.

“There’s something wrong with one of them,” Scaramouche huffed as he approached her, she doesn’t spare him a glance nor does she stand up to greet him. Instead, she merely sips on her wine, her eyes on the parchment, and a scowl on her face.

“I fail to see how that’s my problem that you aren’t able to manage your recruits. If one of them is injured send them to the infirmary, if it's a fatal injury then dump their body in the pit and burn it,” Signora huffed, a spark of irritation welling up in her at the fact that she had to explain this at all. Especially when she was trying to relax and enjoy herself.

An irritated sigh comes from the man in front of her, and he clicks his tongue. “No something else, its organs were coming out of its mouth. Smelled absolutely horrific. It's that brat Dottore’s been testing on, orange hair, blue eyes, stubborn, loud mouth.”

His words do have her looking up this time, a scowl on her face, she knows what recruit Scaramouche was talking about. More so because of how much of a handful he was, he had the same respect that most subordinates did for the Harbingers but that didn’t stop the boy from pushing his luck on numerous occasions.

Dottore seemed to take an interest in the boy as a research subject, Scaramouche had seen him multiple times in Dottore’s lab in fact, although he wouldn’t tell anyone why he was using the boy as a test subject or why he’d taken an interest in him specifically beside saying there were some interesting abnormalities he had. Especially for a human.

“Organs coming out of his mouth…” Signora echoed trying to piece together what Scaramouche was talking about.

Scaramouche nodded, a deep frown on his face. “His skin was hot too, it didn't feel right for a human at least.”

That’s when it clicks for La Signora what exactly Scaramouche was talking about. She sighed loudly before going silent for a few moments which caused Scaramouche to look at her, only to see the woman looking at him with narrow eyes as if he were the world’s largest fool.

“What,” he huffed with a scowl.

She sighed again, before clicking her tongue and tossing the paperwork she’d been holding onto the nearby table. If the situation hadn’t been so irritating she may have laughed.

While she doesn’t want to tell Scaramouche what is wrong with the boy finding his ignorance rather funny, she can practically feel her ears ringing when Dottore finds out that his valuable test subject had been lost.

“He’s sick you imbecile, heal him. It won’t fix everything but it will help,” she told him after a moment, her tone curt.

Scaramouche scowled. “Sick,” he echoed, confusion clear in his voice, ignoring La Signora’s insult.

In the past he’d heard of humans falling ill but merely in passing, never wanting to stay around long enough to see how it truly affected them.

Another sigh, Signora rolled her eyes, muttering a curse under her breath. “Yes, sick. Humans are very fragile, sometimes, something such as simply not getting enough rest will result in them becoming ill. Some are more resilient than others, however.”

There’s no contempt or irritation in Signora’s words as she speaks, her words are a matter of fact as if speaking of something she’s seen before. Which wouldn’t surprise Scaramouche if true, after all, she was human at one point.

“How do I make him stop being like that, it’s annoying and I’d rather not listen to Dottore’s whining,” Scaramouche huffed, crossing his arms as he looked away.

He knew humans were fragile, that they broke easily and it didn’t take much to stop them for good. But he’d be lying if he said he fully understood the other nuances and trials that came with being human. And even then his desire to learn had long since been snuffed out.

“For now simply heal him, tell one of the subordinates to give him medicine and keep his fever down if he has one,” she sighed after a moment.

With that matter seemingly solved she gathers the paperwork in her hand once more, only to stop when she realizes Scaramouche is still standing there in silence.

She looks at him once again, noticing a strange expression on the man’s face that she’s never really seen before, it almost looked like an expression of apprehension. It takes her a moment to realize why as well.

“You’ve never used your powers to heal anyone, have you,” she said and her tone has those glowing indigo eyes glaring at her in an instant.

That telling glare is all the answer she needs and she chuckles. Although that chuckle is followed by a sigh when she realizes something.

That she was going to have to take care of this, lest she listen to Dottore complain for months on end and possibly be on the receiving end of his more extensive checkups.

Another loud sigh leaves her mouth as she drains her wine glass in one go before setting it aside on the table. “Honestly must I do everything,” she muttered under her breath followed by a curse.

The look of confusion on Scaramouche’s face has her rolling her eyes. “Well hurry it up you fool, take me to him.”

~~~

The walk back to the infirmary tent is strangely quiet, and Scaramouche can’t help but regret his decision to get Signora in the first place.

Even more so when Signora and him enter the infirmary tent. It’s still just as empty as before, and Ajax is exactly where Scaramouche left him as well, dangling limply halfway off of the bed, a large puddle of his own vomit semi-congealed on the floor in front of him.

The boy’s raspy labored breathing sounds far too loud in the tent at the moment, especially when Scaramouche sees Signora’s face wrinkle in clear disgust.

While it is about as horrific as Signora expected, that still doesn’t stop the feeling of disgust that settles over her at the rancid scent of vomit in the air, not to mention the disgustingly large puddle of it on the ground.

“Well at least he’s not choking on his own vomit,” she huffed as she stared at Ajax with narrow eyes. She moves closer before stopping and turning to look at Scaramouche who stood a little ways behind her. “How long has he been like this? Honestly, he shouldn’t have had a shift in the first place in his state, it’s surprising he even woke up this morning.”

The boy’s breathing sounded horrible, clearly strained and labored. A sure sign that this wasn’t an illness that came on suddenly.

Scaramouche sighed shaking his head slightly as he shifted in place for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest as he scowled at Signora. “He was whining earlier, but if he was in such a horrible condition he should’ve said something. It’s not like he didn’t have the chance,” Scaramouche huffed.

Near silence fills the tent as La Signora looks at Scaramouche for a moment, her raised eyebrows speaking volumes.

Then she sighed, shaking her head. “For the love of…” she muttered.

“What,” Scaramouche snapped indignantly, his eyes narrowing at the disbelief in the woman’s tone.

Signora rolls her eyes as she moves closer to the boy, her nose wrinkling in disgust. She reaches out with one hand, grabbing him by the scruff of his coat and pulling him up before placing him on the cot on his side.

The boy giving a soft weak groan at the movement but not opening his eyes.

Signora scowled with a sigh. “His fever is dangerously high,” she murmured before turning to Scaramouche and crossing her arms. “Come here, and grab his hand. You’ll need to heal him, it won't fix everything but it’s better than nothing.”

~~~

Healing someone with his powers wasn’t something Scaramouche had ever done really, just because he had the ability to do it didn’t mean he had any use for it. And those times when he’d lived among humans far too long ago, he just didn’t use it as such it was a skill that had been pretty much neglected.

Scaramouche scowled as he gripped Ajax’s hand in his own, briefly scowling at just how much heat was rolling off the boy’s skin.

“Focus your elemental energy and do it carefully, he’s already sick we don’t need you electrocuting him,” Signora told him as she stared at the pair with her arms crossed over her chest.

Her words a curt, demanding almost an order, and Scaramouche can’t help but grit his teeth, even more so as he begins to follow her instructions.

Drawing his elemental energy to himself is rather easy and instantaneous, it buzzes gently just beneath his skin familiar. A gentle hum of electro.

Signora watches as a gentle hum of electro energy cloaks Scaramouhe’s hand as well as Ajax’s, at first it seems to be going well a bit of color returning to the boy’s face as his labored breathing quiets down ever so slightly.

Then the boy begins to whimper as the purple glow of electro surrounding his hand begins to suddenly grow brighter and brighter, as he begins writhing in bed an obvious sign that he was in pain.

“Stop it,” Signora ordered.

And Scaramouche jumped slightly at her outburst instantly detaching his hand from Ajax’s, his electro energy drawing back. For a few moments, Ajax continues to whimper softly his face twisted into a grimace.

Sighing loudly Signora narrows her eyes, feeling a headache coming on. “I told you to be careful,” she said her tone clearly showing her irritation and exasperation.

Scaramouche clicks his tongue. “It’s not my fault that he’s weak,” he huffed as he glared at Ajax. It was all so irritating honestly, not only Ajax’s presence and this whole entire situation at the moment. But most of all the uncomfortable feeling writhing in Scaramouche’s chest.

And yet he finds himself reaching out again, grabbing hold of Ajax’s hand as he begins the attempt to him once more.

~~~

Ajax has no idea what’s going on when he stirs from sleep at first, everything is far too hot in fact to the point that he feels as if he may be melting into a puddle.

The world is a hazy smear of colors swimming before his eyes, and yet even through that, he can make out two familiar violet eyes amongst the swirling colors.

“You should’ve said something, idiot,” he hears a familiar voice huff softly and it takes him merely a moment to realize it’s Scaramouche.

“I…told you…I was feeling sick,” Ajax suddenly whispered and Scaramouche freezes having been in the middle of tossing an extra blanket over the boy.

He’d been moved to the infirmary’s quarantine wing after he’d been healed slightly and tended to by Scaramouche under La Signora’s watchful gaze. At the moment though it was late at night with everyone having gotten drunk by the fire or returned to their barracks.

As such Scaramouche had decided to return to the infirmary, telling himself it was simply to see if Ajax had actually croaked or something rather than to ease that strange discomfort writhing in his chest.

He’d found the boy curled up beneath the blanket in a ball shivering, the medicine he’d been given that had lowered his fever slightly earlier having clearly worn off if his labored breathing was anything to go off of.

So Scaramouche had grabbed an extra blanket, after all the last thing he needed was the boy freezing to death after Scaramouche had gone through so much trouble at this point.

At Ajax’s words, Scaramouche sighed, rolling his eyes. “Be quiet brat, just got to sleep, or do you want me to fry you.”

Ajax frowned slightly but closed his eyes, honestly, he expects Scaramouche to leave. Out of all the harbingers, Scaramouche could be one of the harshest towards his subordinates, so Ajax can’t help but be surprised when he doesn’t feel Scaramouche’s presence disappear.

“L…Lord Balladeer…” Ajax began slowly after a moment or two, he goes to open his eyes but freezes when he feels Scaramouche place a gentle hand over his eyes, covering them.

“Stop being nosy and sleep. At least follow this order idiot,” Scaramouche told him and Ajax doesn’t know if its the fever or he’s imagining things but Scaramouche’s voice almost seems softer than usual.

Less demanding, still rough around the edges of course but as harsh and cold.

Ajax nodded slightly as he closed his eyes again, and it isn’t long before he drifts off to sleep.

#emetophilia #emeto fic #Genshin emeto #sickfic #genshin sickfic #hurt/comfort #My writing #fainting #anime whump #male whump #Young Fatui Recruit Childe #Back when he was called Ajax #La Signora is here too because Scaramouche has no clue how humans work #tartagalia genshin impact #scaramouche genshin impact #la signora genshin impact

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