#h: leah

[storyofwhoiam]

🙌 NPC for Leah

Send a “🙌” and I’ll introduce you to an NPC related to my Muse. | @shcftingpieces

Branson Jacobs is Leah's father and a musician. He was a founding member and drummer for rock band, San Avalon. Over the years, the band's music evolved from a raw, edgy sound to a fusion of classic rock and punk. San Avalon's journey included world tours, headlining music festivals, and several of their albums achieving gold and platinum certifications. Branson was instrumental in getting the band through challenging periods of creative differences and personal conflicts. While San Avalon are no longer active, Branson continues to write songs, and collaborate with other musicians. Many of their songs hold a special place in Leah's heart.

Growing up, Leah was immersed in the music industry. As a father, Branson loved the opportunity to introduce Leah to a wide range of musical genres. From a very young age, Leah was brought along to shows and sometimes on tour with the band, and, as she got older, they attended gigs together.

Whilst music is his first love, a close second is his love of baseball, particularly the LA Dodgers. He has a near encyclopaedic knowledge; able to recite player stats and Dodgers' lore with impressive detail. Branson took a young Leah to games whenever he was home and able to, and passed his love for the sport onto her.

He has a calm and charismatic demeanour, and an outgoing personality. He didn't always get to be around as much as Leah might've liked whilst she was a child, but he's supportive of her and her career, and a constant source of inspiration for her. His knowledge of the music industry is a valuable resource that he readily shares, and his understanding the pressures and expectations that come with being in the spotlight make him a vital support.

[its-to-the-death]

Battle of the Gingers Bracket H Round 3

Captain Flint (Black Sails) vs Leah (Stardew Valley)

[samkerrworshipper]

togetherness pt.3 | matilda’s x reader

lowkey have come to detest this series chase i started it in first person and i no longer write in that format butttt some of yall want it so i have to supply 🤷‍♀️

warnings/themes: self harm implications, talks of past sexual abuse, lots of trauma, comfort, just general sadness tbh

As we pulled up to our own hotel Sam and Steph were smiling like idiots, joking about something or another. I was lost in thought, thinking about everything that had just happened. My haze was cut short though as my door was opened for me and Sam stood on the outside, waiting for me to hop out. I unclicked my seatbelt hurriedly before climbing out of the car and ducking behind the car to grab my bag quickly. My coping mechanism was to grab my phone out of my pocket and to start to scroll through it as I waited on Sam and Steph to collect their own things. My phone was my social crutch, when I felt awkward it was what I leant to.

“Kiddo, let’s go?”

My head was pulled from my phone as I came to the realisation Sam and Steph had both collected their belongings and were walking towards the front of the hotel, Steph passing her car keys off to the valet. I scurried after the two older women, my behaviour was oddly skittish and I was sure the both of them were picking up on it.

We flashed our ID cards at the front desk before making our way into the team front room where we left our kit bags, just so there was no confusion of them in the rooms. We all individually stowed away our bags, collecting whatever essentials we needed from our bags before leaving them in their spots for the night. I grabbed my drink bottle, my airpods and my ugg boots from my bag before walking over to the food table, it was the table where they left all the snacks that were there to be taken at any time of the day. I picked up a packet of gummy bears instead of a granola bar, Leah wouldn’t have been happy with my switch but I wasn’t eating a granola bar so it was an improvement?

After grabbing the bag of gummy bears, filling up my water bottle and grabbing a bottle of gatorade I followed Steph and Sam towards the elevators, waiting patiently as they clicked the button for our floor. They conversed between the two of them as we went up in the elevator, just general stuff.

“So Y/n/n, we’ll go get Steph’s stuff and we’ll bring it into your room and we’ll move whatever of your stuff is there into my room, okay?”

I nodded at Sam, excepting that this was happening.

As the doors opened I found myself following behind them as they walked towards their room. I followed them into the room as Sam unlocked it with her keycard. The room was similar if not identical to Ellie’s and I’s. Two, matching queen beds, a joining ensuite and two reasonable sized wardrobes. Steph very quickly packed her stuff up, throwing it all into her bags before procuring Sam’s help to move it down the hall. I wordlessly unlocked the door to formerly Ellie and I’s room. When we walked in Ellie was already in there, sitting on her bed, cuddled up in a pile of blankets and sweatshirts. She looked like she’d been crying and I found a part of me feeling bad for her. She was a good person, a person who had been through a lot considering her age.

“Y/n, can we talk?”

I couldn’t find it in me, even with the guilt riding through my body to look at her eyes. I knew that they’d betray me, that I’d no longer be able to be mad at her or annoyed if I was forced to look into those eyes.

“Ellie, how about we try this tomorrow morning? Y/n/n's tired, she’s not feeling too well.”

Steph’s voice was pretty forceful but Ellie found room to rebut.

“I just want to talk to her for fucks sakes, I deserve that at least before my fucking roommate is uprooted.”

I jumped back at Ellie’s harsh tone, finding myself in Sam’s personal space bubble. She didn’t flinch back at my sudden intrusion, instead pushed one of her own arms to my side, steadying me slightly.

“Ellie Maddison, you have already caused yourself enough trouble for one night, I would stop now. I already told you, Y/n/n isn’t feeling up to it. We can try this in the morning, if she wants. We wouldn’t be uprooting her if it wasn’t for you two behaving like three year olds. You both need sleep, not more petty arguing that is going to get us nowhere. Y/n, grab your things, we can talk this all out in the morning, both Sam and I are too tired to put up with any more of it.”

I scurried to collect my bag, I’d never really unpacked so it wasn’t hard. I just grabbed my pillow, bag, phone charger and backpack before scrambling my way out of the room. Sam helped me to haul my big bag down the hallway and into her room.

As soon as we closed the door behind us I could feel a part of me break, the part that broke inside of me every night when I crawled under the covers of my hotel bed or I collapsed on the floor of the ensuite. The vulnerable part of my soul that had never been prepared for this, never prepared for fame or attention. I mean as a kid I’d shied away from it as much as I could, kid Y/n was an insecure, anxious mess who had no idea what she wanted, that part of me was still the same.

“Do you need help unpacking? Steph had housekeeping come in today and clean our sheets so the beds are all clean, I try to keep fairly organised and clean but just a disclaimer that there are some stories about me sleep-talking that I neither deny or confirm.”

“I think I should be fine to put it all away, thank you though.”

Sam smiled at me and nodded, it seemed like there was something else hanging off of the tip of her tongue that she was deciding whether or not to say.

“Okay then, I’m just going to have a quick shower, I do not apologise if I start to sing, it’s a canon event.”

I snorted and nodded Sam’s way as I watched her dip into the ensuite. I set myself the task of firstly, getting changed. I clawed off my layers of matilda gear and very quickly changed into a pair of Qantas pyjamas that we’d gotten on our flight to Sydney, they were fresh and unopened and everything about them seemed comfortable. After I was done getting changed I set myself the task of stowing my bag away on my side of the wardrobe, I didn’t do much more than that, I didn’t really want to unpack right now. So I did a very quick version of my skincare routine and then climbed into my bed. It was comfy, the same as my one in the other room except it just felt different. Once I’d properly situated myself in the pillows I grabbed out my phone and started to scroll on instagram.

It was safe to say that when I was in a bag head space I spiralled a lot.

So when I was in the dumps about a bad game I would often find myself reverting to the hate pages on the internet. The internet is a fucked up place. Some of the things that strangers are willing to put out in the world about a person they don’t know is fucked. It was still a bad habit of mine though to constantly look at those posts.

Leah was always confiscating my phone after bad games, after bad days. She knew me too well, knew how when I got wrapped up in my own head there was nothing to do besides just be there for me. I fiddled anxiously as I flicked through the countless news articles that had been posted. The Australian had a particular hatred for me, had since I was a rookie and since they’d found some photos of me doing drugs back when I was a teenager and published it on the front cover of the Saturday papers. I’d had a particular shared hatred back at them after that. They had a field day every time I had a bad game, I was pretty much the leading lady of page 6. Our game last Saturday had been no different, one wrong kick and I was washed up and cracking under the pressure. The slew of twitter pages and reddit links that I’d been sent after that had been enough to make anyone feel sick to their stomach.

That was why I think I’d gotten roomed with Ellie, she was probably the most hated in the media on the team besides me. I think Sam had thought maybe we’d bond over it but neither of us were vulnerable enough to talk to the other about it. So it had just stewed between the both of us and honestly probably made it worse than it should have been.

“I don’t think I have ever seen a person in such an intense staring competition with their phone.”

I squealed as Sam very stealthily grabbed my phone from my own hands. I immediately sprung up, trying to retrieve it from her hands, I hadn’t had the opportunity to lock it.

“What are you hiding?”

I saw Sam’s interest peak as I fought intensely to grab my phone back. She held it above her head and I might have been taller than her but I couldn’t for the life of me manage to retrieve it from her hands even as I attempted to use her body as a climbing frame. After a few jumps and attempts I gave up, collapsing back into my bed and covering my body and head with the sheets and duvet. The room stayed silent as Sam did the inevitable and looked through my phone screen.

“Y/n.”

Her voice was even and I felt her bodyweight sink down onto the spot at the bottom of my bed. I felt her arms work their way up to the top of the duvet and slowly try to pry them out of my own hands. She succeeded fairly quickly, smiling at me as my face was revealed to the light of our hotel suite.

“There’s that pretty face, no need to be ashamed honey. You ought to not read into what Roger writes, he hates anything to do with women's sports, especially women who are succeeding so heavily at such a young age. You shouldn’t let your mental image of yourself be contorted by words written by a person who doesn’t know you or care about you, don’t do that to yourself, you deserve better.”

I looked at Sam, in all of her glory, sitting above me, an old nike shirt that looked like it had been washed 600 times. Her hair was brushed smoothly back into her classic low pony. It made me cry. Not sobbing crying, just wet, fat tears dripping down my face as I thought about that article. I could probably quote most of the journalist's work, I’d read it over and over and over.

“Come on now, don’t cry, please. You’ve done enough crying for tonight, don’t make me tickle you.”

Sam’s eyebrow rose in challenge as she stared down at me, silently challenging me to keep going. When I did, her hands found their way to my sides and started to tickle me intensely. I immediately let out a choken laugh, trying to suppress my giggles and cries.

“S-Sam stop ittt. S’ not fair.”

She smirked at me as she continued her abuse of my sides.

“Stop crying then, c’mon, there are better things to do with your time then cry over bullshit. I know Williamson would have my head if she knew that I was letting her girl get down in the dumps over something that’s out of your control. I am telling you now, honestly, your whole career there is always going to be someone who is going to try and take you down, journalists, social media, other players. It’s wrong, but we are women in a field that is predominantly presumed to be male dominated, we aren’t appreciated, we’re underpaid and we are slaughtered in the press for anything. The more you feed into it the worse it’s going to get, and I understand that the other stuff isn’t going to just go away but it is going to eventually get better, I promise you that.”

“You promise?”

Sam rolled her eyes and extended her pinky towards me.

“I pinky promise.”

I rolled my eyes at the cliche but interlocked my own pinky finger in hers and shook it. Sam reached down to wipe the tears from my face and smiled at me, a little glint in her eye.

“Now, I think it’s about time we got you tucked in, it’s been a big day for you.”

“I’m not tired.”

Sam rolled her eyes at my immediate defiance and plonked herself down next to me on the bed, resting beside me against the headboard. She lazily placed one of her arms around my shoulder, there was something so simple but complex about the whole situation.

“Do I need to explain to you the importance of getting eight hours?”

“This feels like one of those captain moments where you try and mom me into doing something that’s not going to happen.”

Sam snorted at my reply, nodding her head concedingly.

“Is the defiance just a young people thing or do you just enjoy being a pain in the ass?”

“There’s no fun in it if I agree to everything you tell me to do.”

Sam’s eyes damn near rolled into the back of her head.

“Is it hard using defiance as a defence mechanism constantly?”

The question took me back a little bit, it hadn’t been what I was expecting. She’d turned a pretty mild conversation into something deep so quickly that it took me a few seconds to recover.

“I don’t use defiance as a defence mechanism.”

My voice wavered a little bit, just enough for doubt to seep in.

“Yes you do.”

Sam’s voice was so matter of a fact, like she knew me better than I knew myself.

“No, I don’t.”

“You push everyone out, you don’t listen to anyone who is trying to help you out, you do things that are harmful to yourself without caring, you play with injuries, you put yourself in harms way a little bit to often, you hide your emotions, I could keep listing off if I wanted to.”

I hated how right Sam was, how observant she was, it made me queasy.

“Okay, so I do some of those things, but that doesn’t make it a defence mechanism.”

“What does it make it then? A form of self harm? A form of punishment? I think you’ve punished yourself enough, when does it all become enough, when in the mind of Y/n do you atone for your sins? Because from where I’m looking at it you are leading yourself in the direction of a cliff's edge and you aren't going to stop until you are over that cliff.”

I gulped, unsure of what to say to my skipper, because I couldn’t lie to her, not for the life of me but I also wasn’t going to sit here and listen to her pretty much tell me that I was suicidal or something.

“You don’t know what I’ve done or who I’ve hurt to get here.”

“I know you're a good kid, with a good heart and if Williamson decided to take a shot with you then you have to be worth it. I know you carry baggage, a lot more than you’ll ever tell anyone, some things that you don’t even tell Leah. I have my inferences, I know things are rough with your family, always has been. I know you're hard on yourself, far too hard on yourself considering you are nineteen. I know that you never saw yourself here, never saw yourself as being capable of being here and now that you are you are having an identity crisis because you are secretly terrified that you are never going to be good enough to be here, even though you are. You’re hurting a lot, I know roughly what you're doing to self soothe, it’s not good and I’m worried about you, all of us are.”

I bit down on my lip, staring out at the wall in front of me, unsure of what to say to Sam, because she was right in so many ways but her words were also like a stab in my heart, because until someone is telling you about your behaviours I don’t think it subconsciously sinks in.

“Something to think about, I’m always here kid, if you ever need to talk, or need help, or just someone to keep you company then I’m here, whatever you need.”

“I didn’t ever plan on being a professional football player,” I snorted in between my words, realising I was actually about to go down this path with my captain, a woman who had pioneered womens sport in Australia, “This sounds stupid but all I ever wanted growing up was to own a cattle station, wanted to live the humble life out on the farm. I know that sounds so stupid, because it’s so simple. But I never planned for this, I never wanted this. My parents put me into football and gymnastics when I was six and I was good at them, really good and it was for fun so it was fine. Then it wasn’t for fun and I was playing in national teams and olympic qualifiers. Then I broke my back falling off of a beam and I was happy, I was glad, because it meant that I could do what I wanted. Then I was in the party scene and everything was good, until it wasn’t. Then my parents were shipping me off to the AIS and I didn’t have a say. Next thing I’m here and I’m doing this and I’m grateful, don’t get me wrong. But a part of me never wanted this and I know that’s bad of me to say because there are thousands of girls who would die for my spot but it’s the truth.”

I took a deep breath as I finished up my spew of words, it was a lot, I wasn’t an oversharer, most of it was probably word vomit but there was something about Sam that just made me feel comfortable with being vulnerable, I didn’t know what it was.

“That’s not stupid, having dreams isn’t stupid and it’s okay for you to be upset that you didn’t get what you wanted. You have a gift Y/n, the way that you play on the field is truly exceptional and I am telling you now that if you want to be the best professional footballer, then you can. You could be one of the best players in the game, better than me or any other player on this team, I believe that whole-heartedly. You deserve that, if you want it. If you start to make healthier decisions for yourself, decisions that don’t harm you. When was the last time you ate a proper meal? The last time you took time out of your day to look after yourself? How long until it starts to seriously harm you? Do I need to tell you how dangerous it is for a professional athlete to not be looking after their body, you are important Y/n, and so is your health.”

I fiddled with a loose thread that was protruding from the doona below me. My captain's words were sinking in, deep, like a tattoo. Etching its way into my skin, painfully.

“I am fine, our doctors have had no issues with clearing me, I eat and I do look after myself.”

My justification was weak, it was in my voice and in my mannerism. My statement just wasn’t believable, as much as I was trying to push it.

“So you know how to pass a medical test? I’d expect you too considering you fooled Tony the whole time you were at the AIS that you weren’t using. I’ve heard the story, it just proves to me that you know how to get around testing.”

Fuck. Fuck. It wasn’t surprising Sam knew my history with drugs, I mean anyone who read the papers knew, it wasn’t private information. I was clean now, four years and proud of it. I’d had a bumpy road to recovery but I’d gotten there with time.

“I can look after myself.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“See, as soon as anyone tries to care for you, you close up.”

“I don’t close up. I just don’t respond to being interrogated.”

“You aren’t being interrogated.”

“Sure seems like it.”

“That’s a bit overdramatic, all I am trying to do is care for you, something you are adamant on avoiding.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, because I couldn’t deny Sam in what she was saying, I did push people out who tried to care for me. Long ago Leah had accepted there were some parts of me that I was never going to be able to talk to her about, that was why she’d forced me into seeing a therapist.

“I don’t need you to care for me.”

“The scars on your thighs say otherwise.”

I blinked for a few seconds, taking a deep gulp as the words that Sam had just said set in, had she actually gone there? Had she actually just said that.

“That was a low fucking blow.”

Sam was clearly taken aback by her own words, it had clearly just spilled out of her. Sam was no filter, so it had come to me as no surprise that she frequently blurted, just the fact she’d said that though hit me deep.

“I’m not wrong.”

I could feel tears stemming at the back of my eyes, at the realisation that I was about to have this conversation.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Does Leah know?”

“She’s had her queries, she doesn’t push it.”

“She doesn’t push the fact that you cut yourself?”

If her previous words hadn’t hit hard, those ones had, because those words, that assumption, that accusation was so confronting.

“It’s not like that.”

“Explain to me what it’s like then.”

I pushed Sam’s arm off of my shoulder, feeling like I need a more face to face conversation. I pushed myself off of the bed head, so I was sitting between Sam’s two legs, my legs crossed. It was vulnerable for me, just talking to someone about my feelings was vulnerable for me.

“When I was 15, when I gave up the drugs. I was in a lot of pain, I hated myself. It wasn’t easy, I mean I was trying pretty much everything I could to get injured. I got arrested for speeding underage twice, both times Tony had to bail me out. I was just a mess, so I started to hurt myself, to stop myself from seriously injuring myself. It was the only thing that I could do that would make me feel better, the only thing that I could turn to when shit got real. So it became my thing, then I turned pro and I stopped for a while, especially when Leah started to get on my case about it but then we got to training camp and it was all too much so I started again and I know it’s a bad habit and it’s serious but Sam, I wouldn’t be here right now without it.”

“Are you suicidal?”

It was a question I definitely wasn’t prepared for.

“I’ve had suicidal thoughts over the years, I’ve had my fair share of bad moments but no, I’m not suicidal. I don’t do it because I want to die, I do it because it gives me relief, from life, from football, from stress. For me it's an outlet, when life gets hard that’s how I deal with it. It's unhealthy but it’s what works for me and I know that it’s bad but it’s what works.”

Sam nodded at me, there was a certain softness to her words and features the more I spoke to her, the more barriers that I let go. Sam’s own hand found its way to my bicep, silently comforting me and telling me to stop rambling.

“I get it. You do what you have to do to survive, and there is nothing wrong with that. You do what you have to do to get through the day. You’re not broken. This isn’t something to be embarrassed about or guilty for. You are still a child Y/n, in so many ways. The world is hard sometimes, what we do is hard sometimes, we all have needs. You scavenge for anything that helps you to get through because you want to survive, you want to be ok. Then it works, so you continue to survive. Good for you, you figured out how to survive. You don’t need to spend everyday in survival mode anymore though, you have love in your life that prevents the constant need to survive.

The words burnt my soul and I could feel the tears brimming up again. I hated crying.

“You’re living your old life Y/n/n. But it’s done, it’s over. You get to have the good things that you never had, you can meditate, or go on holiday, you can read books, you can learn a new language, you can learn how to live in a way where you don’t have to hurt to handle all of the things that scare you. No shame, just growth, okay. You don’t have to hide in your ensuite at night by yourself, like you taught yourself to do to survive, am I clear?”

Sam’s eyes bored down into my soul, her words were so strong and definite.

“You’re going to call me, or Leah, or your therapist next time you feel like doing it, that’s an order. You are going to call one of us, call me, and I’ll talk to you, I’ll talk to you for however long it takes for you to understand that this,”

Sam’s hand fell down to my thigh, where we both knew the scars laid, underneath my sweats,

“Isn’t the solution, not anymore, we’re leaving it in the past. This isn’t your way to survive anymore, from now on you aren’t going to just survive, we are going to make you live, I promise you that. From here on out you are going to live, and enjoy living. I am going to try my hardest to keep to that promise, but you need to as well. Promise me you are going to try and do more than just survive, because this shit in the press, it sucks, but it’s going to go away and once it does you are going to be lost, you are going to struggle and that fight that you put in everyday to be here, it’s not going to be as present and when that happens, when all of the outside threats are denominated you are going to hit rock bottom, there’s one positive of hitting rock bottom though, there’s only one way up and when you realise that you have the potential to go upwards and you want to, life is going to get better.”

“Y’know I get why Polks and De Vanna recommended you for captain.”

My words were said with tears and snot running down my face, with the realisation that right now, I was being held accountable for my shit and it was a hard realisation. My captain's words had hit home for me with the realisation that there wasn’t room for me to behave like I previously had.

“I try my best, I expect you to do the same. This relationship, this situation, it doesn’t work if you aren’t prepared to put the work in, if you aren’t prepared to hit rock bottom and work upwards from there. When you do hit that bottom, I want you to call me, tell me you’ve had a bad day, or don’t, talk, or listen, whatever you need.”

I nodded at Sam.

“I am going to try.”

She smiled at me and nodded, all encouragement and comfort.

“Okay then, okay. Come here kid,”

Sam opened her arms for me and I collapsed into them, grateful for just the warmth and comfort of Sam’s arms. I understood why all of the girls gravitated to her, why they seeked her out so often. She understood, she didn’t judge, she listened and then she gave advice, good advice, meaningful advice. One of her hands went to my back, gently rubbing across the nooks and valleys along my back. The other hand reached to the nape of my neck, gently twisting and brushing out the hairs that laid at the beginning of my hairline. I lent into her touch, silently finding so much comfort in her actions.

“M’ sorry, sorry that I didn’t come to you earlier.”

“It’s okay kid, I understand, you were scared and you didn’t know who you could talk to about that. What’s important is you know now, you know that I am always here for when you need help and I expect you to come to me from now on, no more hiding and struggling in silence, okay?”

I nodded into Sam’s arms, just silently finding so much peace and solace in being held. I hadn’t been held in months, not since I’d been with Leah and the last few months with Leah had been hard to say the least. She’d done her ACL, and it wasn’t anybody's fault, I hadn’t been prepared for it though. Both Leah and I were going through rough patches and neither of us were prepared to look after another human being besides ourselves. There had been countless nights between the two of us spent crying and fighting with each other. It was rough, we’d worked through it though. It was hard though, and a part of me felt guilty for not being okay, and a part of me felt like Leah was going through so much worse than me and I could never burden her with my stupid problems.

“Now, I think it is definitely time that we get you tucked in and asleep, I won’t take any arguments, you look like you could sleep for days if you needed.”

I just nodded at Sam, any fight, any defiance that had been in my body was gone, I just didn’t have it in me. She was right, I was tired, I’d hardly slept the whole world cup. I was an insomniac, so that was to blame partially, partially I also just didn’t feel safe sleeping. Ellie was always on the phone with her girlfriend, when she wasn’t she was trying to talk to me or do yoga or something. She’d also been slaughtered in the press most of the tournament, it was messing with her, everyone could tell. Her techniques for combatting her anxiety about it though was annoying to say the least, being the younger one in the situation I didn’t have the confidence to tell her that her habits were fucking annoying to say the least.

I didn’t fight back as Sam gently laid me down on my bed, pulling the covers up over my body and very gently tucking me in.

“Have a good sleep, kid.”

She smiled at me and I smiled back.

“You too cap, thank you, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

Sam patted me on the head, giving me her signature smirk.

“It’s no trouble, now get some sleep yeah, I need you to be coherent for tomorrow.”

I nodded along with Sam’s statement, watching as she got up off of my bed and walked towards the light switch, turning it off before jumping into her own bed. She rustled around in her sheets for a few minutes before finding her spot, a few minutes after the rustling ended I heard her breath slow and even out, indicating that she’d fallen asleep.

The situation was not the same for me, it took me a few hours to fall asleep and once I did I only slept for two hours, it was fitful sleep, very light and not very good. I laid in bed for a while before deciding around 5 that I was going to go for a run. I got up as quietly as I could, throwing on a pair of shorts and a sports bra. Once I’d gotten dressed I picked out my pair of running sneakers before creeping my way out of the hotel room and trying my very hardest to keep my steps silent as I walked down the hallway and into the elevators that took me down to the lobby. Our hotel was about 200 metres from the beach, so I made the decision I would take my morning run along the beach.

It was still dark out as I made my way out onto the main road and started my jog down to the water's edge. The sun probably wouldn’t rise before I came home. I planned to do about ten km, the beach was around 4 or so long so If I ran up and then down I would probably do about that. As soon as I got down to the waters edge I started to run properly.

Running had been one of my releases since I was 12. Whenever I was angry I went for a run, when I ran everything stopped. It was just me and the music that I had running through my headphones. It felt the same as I set my pace along the sand, like all of the fucking mayhem from the past twenty four hours was just mellowing out, becoming background noise. If I could always be running I would. The only time I ever felt like I was myself was when I was running. The feeling of your heart pounding against your chest, the feeling of your breath hurting in your throat and the dryness in your throat. As I ran the sun slowly started to rise, slowly climbing along the horizon. I made it about three quarters of the way before I ran into someone, one of the last people I wanted to be seeing.

For a second I wasn’t quite sure who it was, they were the only other person on the beach, standing along the shoreline. As I sprinted my way back to my starting spot the body slowly started to become bigger and the fear in my gut slowly grew. I couldn’t make out much more than their body, with the lack of lighting present in the room. As I slowly approached though, more features slowly started to become more recognisable and I silently screamed internally as I realised who exactly was.

As I approached them I slowed my pace, down to a slow jog, almost a walk. I slowly approached them and internally froze as they turned to face me. Fuck.

“It’s a nice morning.”

Lucy’s face was stone serious, and her words didn’t reflect the general attitude that she seemed to hold.

“So you're enjoying the motherland, then, the sunrises are unbeatable.”

“I’d be enjoying it more if I hadn’t been pulled out of my bed at 5am this morning to come and find you because Kerr texted Leah saying you’d disappeared and she didn’t know where to.”

“I’m allowed to go on a run.”

“You didn’t leave a note, after having what I’ve perceived as a fairly rough twenty four hours.”

“I don’t need the lecture.”

“La Reina wouldn’t have a bar of this attitude.”

“Alexia isn’t here.”

“It could be arranged, if I deem you in need of some attitude adjustment.”

I braced myself in front of Lucy, she was a scary woman. When I’d started in the WSL I’d originally been selected by Barcelona, then after half a season I’d been traded to Arsenal. I’d liked it at Barca, if I hadn't been traded I probably would have still been there, Barca was good, when I’d gotten there I had been a basket case, it had been what I’d needed. I was 17 at the time, and had no idea what I’d wanted, Barca had taught me how to wake up every morning and do something with life.

Lucy opened her arms up to me and I let myself fall into them, letting the older woman embrace me. Her arms were strong and they hugged me to her tightly, comfortingly, in the way that a mother would embrace their child. That was what Barca had given me, a good relationship with people that were like substitutes for my mom.

“It’s good to see you, Luce.”

“It’s good to see you as well kid, although I would have preferred it to be under different circumstances.”

She released me from her arms and sat herself down on the sand, nodding at me to sit down next to her. I followed suit, so we were both sitting on the sand, looking out at the sunrise.

“You’ve been doing it again.”

“I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“I don’t want to tell Ale that you’re lying to me as well.”

I crossed my arms across my chest in frustration, grumbling at Lucy.

“She’s not even my captain anymore.”

“She’s still the woman who took you under her wing, she’s your blood, mija.”

I pursed my lips and looked out at the horizon, the sun was truly rising now, the bright pink and oranges mixing into a tie dye across the sky.

“How’d you know I was going to be down here.”

“Just a hunch, I know how much you like your runs.”

“I wasn’t running away or anything, I just needed to think.”

One of Lucy’s arms fell over my shoulders, it was heavy but so soft at the same time.

“I know mi amor, you should have told someone where you were going though, especially considering the events of the last few hours, you worried a lot of people.”

“Leah told you?”

“She told me she was worried about you, that you had a lot on your plate right now, more than a 19 year old should be handling.”

I pursed my lips again, Lucy’s words were so pensive, so calculated but present at the same time. It was bizarre.

“I, just, this world cup, it was supposed to be the defining moment in my career, when I proved to everyone that I was as good, if not better than everyone else they were comparing me too. But I haven’t been performing, the press hates me, I just can’t catch a break.”

“Sounds like you need a sabbatical.”

I snorted a little bit at Lucy’s words.

“I’m serious, you know, after this, you should take some weeks off. Leah needs it as well, go somewhere, wherever your heart feels like you need to be and just live, or learn to live. Turn your phone off, eat as much as you want, exercise as little or as much as you want, just let yourself be happy, without everyone else, without football, without social media and other people. Learn to love yourself.”

I’d been handed so much emotional advice over the last few hours, it was a lot to absorb, a lot to think about.

“I miss La Reina, I miss Barca.”

“I know mi amor, but you have to be here, you have to be in London. It’s what you are destined to be doing, Ale and us all miss you but you are doing such good things where you are.”

“Your taking me back to the hotel, aren’t you?”

Lucy nodded at me sadly and I took one final deep breath before lifting myself off the sand and dusting any remnants of it off of my clothing. I helped Lucy up and then we both started to walk towards the beach exit.

“I’ll be there to watch you tomorrow, Kei, Leah and I. Play for us yeah? Make us proud.”

The walk back to the hotel was rather sullen, both Lucy and I staying fairly silent, her guiding me to the doors with a hand secured on my lower back. When we got to the door I gave her a hug before parting ways and stepping into the lobby. The team room was a little bit more alive then it had been when I’d walked through earlier in the morning. Kat, Harper, Charli and Ky were all awake, having breakfast together, as well as a few of the other veterans. I made my way through the lobby as quickly as I could, I couldn’t be bothered with talking to anyone.

When I did get back to my room, I was very surprised to find Sam, Steph, Haley and Alanna waiting for me. I was the first person to speak, slipping off my shoes next to the door and breaking the tension.

“Isn’t it a bit early for a mothers group meeting?”

[leiaorganicsolocup]

the bond between a person and their emotional support fictional M.A.S.H surgeon is something that can be so personal

[sdvsalad]

A Beautiful Night

Author C here! I tend to avoid writing romantic stories since I can never imagine what it'd be like. It's important to push your boundaries a bit though to improve as both a writer and gain new perspectives! Enjoy a bit of fluff!

The fairy lights lit up the tree-line as they softly twinkled overhead. The trees were all shades of yellow, orange, and red as they swayed side to side, catching the light from the string lights in a beautiful unison. Below sat a checkered red blanket, filled with pillows and a picnic basket that contained an elegant spread of charcuterie and carious edible forgeable plants. A lean ginger woman took the strong stoic woman by the hand as she led them to the blanket, gently sitting down together. 

It must have been hours since they’d sat, the stars twinkled overhead as they laid on the blanket, watching the brilliant dance. The ginger woman excitedly pointed out various constellations and the story behind each, she even pulled out a small sketchpad to connect the dots into beautiful drawings. She explained their meanings, and even what sign represented her. She even managed to figure out the other woman’s based on her birthday, she smiled with delight as she revealed they were perfectly compatible. The white haired woman simply laid down and watched the stars twinkle while listening to the woman beside her. She gave a light smile and murmured something about how beautiful the other woman was. 

The ginger woman began to blush as she remarked back that the other woman was more beautiful, even making a few flirty comments to regain her composure. This went on for a few minutes longer until the ginger woman kissed the other. She giggled a bit as the other woman’s face began to turn as red as her eyes. The ginger woman laid beside her once again and put one arm on the woman’s chest and the other continued to point out the stars above, they still twinkled in a light dance.

It was truly a beautiful night, eventually they both grew tired and drifted off into a restful slumber, still next to each other under the soft fairy lights. 

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

(TW: family conflict, religious trauma implied)

August 11th, 1992

I woke up to Sarah screaming tonight.

My lungs hurt for a reason I didn’t remember, but I could barely even choke out a cough before I ran out of my room to check on her. She was curled up by her bed, sobbing and hugging her stuffed rabbit close to her as she stared at the window. She looked horrified, and wouldn’t even look at me when I tried to ask her what happened. She only told me about how “something was outside her window”, broken up by sobs and cries for mom to help her.

When Mom and Dad eventually left their room to see what was going on, they stared at me as if I was the one that scared her. The reason she was crying. Or at least Dad looked at me like that. Mom was more focused on helping me stop Sarah’s crying to pay much attention to me. Though when I looked up at Dad, he looked almost furious with me. Then he went on a rant about how I’ve been scaring Sarah with my own delusions. Are you fucking kidding me? First you throw out all of my things cause you thought horror movies were rotting my brain with “satanic imagery” and now you’re saying that I’m scaring my own sister? I don’t get it. I don’t understand. I get I wasn’t the son you wanted, can you let it go already?

I’m going to Cesar’s tonight. I can’t stay here right now, I just can’t. I can hear them downstairs talking about it. I’ll wait until they’re done to leave, when they go to bed.

I hate not feeling at home in my own house anymore.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Amor Fati--Chapter 1: Rattlesnakes

Paul and Maelyn have been trying to keep their relationship under wraps, but it all comes out. Caveat: Neither is their imprint. How long can smooth sailing go on?

Paul Lahote x Black!Fem!OC.

CW: Series deals with the death of a parent, and will have smut scenes. 18+ please!

Series Masterlist

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She knows when to butt out--Maelyn swears she does. But the longer she leans into the kitchen island, listening to Jacob’s never ending rant, the more she watches for her opening. It’s not really her business. But as one of the only two girls to phase in the pack, and considering that she was even in the pack, Jacob’s incessant monologue was her business. Or least, Maelyn made it her business. Because it’s about Bella. Like it always is. If not for Sam’s gag order, which Jacob found a loophole around, it’s now for the fragile reality he’d been living in threatening to crash and burn.  

Things were a lot easier when the pack didn’t know what the fucking vampires were after. Not easy for them as the protectors of the land, and therefore by extension the people on the land, but easier in a day to day ordeal. Easier in terms of at least then it seemed like Jacob was really only complaining about losing a friend. Easier in terms of at least when Maelyn did tune in for the latest episode in Jacob’s soap opera the stakes didn’t feel so grave. 

“And you’re being way too quiet,” Jake states, slowing to a stop, from his rapid pacing, in front of Maelyn. “I hate it when you go quiet on me. It means you’re thinking. And if you’re thinking, it means it’s going to hurt my feelings.”

“I plead the fifth your honor,” Maelyn returns, teeth snapping the skin of the red delicious apple from the fridge. A bit of the juice dribbles down the corner of her mouth and she chases it down with the pad of the thumb. 

“You are one of my best friends, so your opinion is useful. Just…be nice,” Jake warns. 

Jacob phased right after Maelyn did. Hers sparked by the incessant messages on her phone from her father when she was twenty minutes late getting home one evening. She promised to call when running late and she did. But her dad hadn’t answered, and he hadn’t bothered to check the voicemail she left on the house phone either. The only reason she had a cellphone in the first place was because of her father’s own paranoia. Not that she needed a curfew at eighteen, nor did she want one. But she was trying to placate her father’s anxieties. The phasing and subsequent discovery of her mother’s lineage being the root cause for such ability only seemed now to be gas on the fire. Nevertheless, Maelyn had practice in keeping her cool, most of the time that is. Jacob’s…much too inexperienced. To him, things had always been easy, and fun. And he was easy and fun, before he phased. Now, the boy sported frowns like he was attempting to earn gold medals. 

Maelyn and Jacob grew close over the milkshakes she’d sneak him when working shifts at the diner when he and his sisters would visit. Not that Shannon didn’t know what was going on of course. But still, the secret was nice to have, regardless of how secretive it actually was. Eventually, Jake started to frequent without his sisters and the pair would chat about their days between Maelyn’s fluttered steps to refill coffee mugs, take orders, and serve said orders. It was a ritual that forged their current ability to shoot straight with each other. 

“What did your mother tell me? If I couldn’t say it nicely, not to say it at all,” Maelyn returns after swallowing down the last of her thoroughly chewed apple bite. 

“Well, now I’m telling you to tell it to me straight.”

“Being nice and telling it to you straight are two different things from me,” she offers. Jake’s persistence doesn’t annoy her. In fact, she’s used to it. He’s always been a bit of an optimist. He should just listen to her for his own sake at this current juncture.

“Lyn, you say this like I don’t know this. Ignore everything else. Just--what’s your two cents, okay? What do you think?” Jake asks. He’s got a few inches on Maelyn. Not that her six foot stature would feel like something to make her short, but with all the rest of the boys hitting 6’2’’ and up, it does leave Maelyn as the odd man out--aside from Leah and Seth. But Seth was still young and would still grow. He is already edging out over Leah and Lyn as it is, it wouldn’t be too much longer before he’d have to start looking down. 

And yet, none of Jake’s height matters as he rolls into himself. He’s exhausted. Like they all are. They’ve been on patrols for months, though Lyn had graduated early, she’s still feeling the brunt of all the excess caution. She, Paul, and Sam were taking on extra responsibilities to help the others get used to the change. Jared did what he could to help balance it out too. But there’s no denying how much sacrifice is going into their efforts. And he just looks so small, it’s killing Maelyn. If she says what she’s really thinking, it won’t end well. Not when he’s already worried and anxious.

“Lyn, please,” Jake begs. 

She sighs. He’s the only one that gets to use the nickname. And she means the only one. Not even Paul uses it. “You don’t want to know,” she states again and punctuates the sentence with yet another bite to her apple. Maelyn grows lesser and lesser a fan of Bella. Sure, Bella hadn’t meant to cause a vampire to fall in love with her. And truly, if Edward had kept his wits about him there might’ve been more caution about the attacks happening in town. Edward’s gone right now--so displaced rage seems like the only fitting answer. 

From behind Jacob, Paul’s head rounds the open edge of the wall that blocks the dining area off from the living room. His gaze is assessing, one brow arched in question. Maelyn knows what it means--if he needs to intervene. But he shouldn’t. If he does, it undermines all their previous efforts to keep their relationship quiet worthless. But she can’t respond, not verbally, so all she does is stare back and breathe. And she hopes it’s enough to keep Paul at bay. 

“Damn it, Lyn! Just tell me.”

There’s an edge to Jacob’s voice, a frustration that bleeds into anger. His arms shake. Not a full tremor, just a light quake. 

“I don’t know who in the room you’re yelling at, but it better not be me.” Her own face grows hot, chest expanding wide to take in the deep breath to stay calm. 

“What is your fucking problem, huh? You’re acting real high and mighty. I just want my best friend’s fucking opinion,” Jake snarls. 

“She’s no good for you,” Maelyn barks. The words are effortless, dancing off her tongue in perfect succession. She’s practiced this delivery a thousand times over, cautious and careful in her bedroom mirror or while rolling silverware at the diner. Now, they’re hot and sharp. “She’s no good for you! And you’re no good for her, if I’m honest. She had and will always love that cold hearted vampire more than you. And you can’t even see it! It’s right in front of your fucking eyes and you keep turning away from it. Newsflash Jake, you’re a toy. A plaything for your precious Bella and the last I heard, you were too fucking soft for fuckbuddies.”

The air between them shakes. The room’s hot--though the door’s open to let in the draft. “How does it feel to have mommy and daddy issues now?” Jacob spits. 

“It’s better than being a walking emotional dildo.”

“Oh, whoa,” the room around them calls out. But it doesn’t matter. Both of them are locked on each other, nostrils flared, fists clenched. Jacob’s inexperience makes him a hurricane--the winds, and rain are predictable. The anger growl in the back of his throat is the warning. 

Maelyn’s a quiet chaos, controlled in ways that even Sam denotes as impressive. She can be lethal. Jake may have a natural talent, but Maelyn has the practice, the finesse. She even has the rage she keeps so neatly tucked away. Unlike Leah, who wore bitterness on her sleeve for the world to see, Maelyn keeps her closer to her chest, right next to her heart.

Maelyn nods towards the open door. “You. Me. Outside.”

She’ll at least spare Emily’s house from the utter destruction. Maelyn’s hotheaded, brash, but not that inconsiderate that she’d destroy one of her few places to escape when things get bad. Her nearly eaten apple thunks into the hollowed trash can. 

“I’m not normally a betting man,” Quil starts, “but this would be an interesting match.” 

The voices are further away than before, Maelyn’s stride carrying her closer and closer to the door. “Jake beat me. He’s not to be messed with,” Paul returns. “Though, I’m ready to see the little lady put her money where her mouth is. She’s been talking a lot of smack lately.”

It’s a jest, a soft jab that would normally roll off Maelyn’s back when it comes to Paul. She could even give a retort in return. But all she has now is a hot stare. It falls sharply on Paul and he winces. “Or maybe I shouldn’t talk so much,” Paul corrects. The unspoken apology covers his face in a thick frown. 

“No, we’re not fighting,” Emily calls out. Her feet thump over the wooden floors. “Mae, you get back in here. We handle this like adults, not like wolves.”

“Hate to break it to you, Em, we are wolves,” Quil laughs. 

The stairs creak, though Jake’s stride is steady, his steps are heavy, unusually so. His approach is fast as he jogs down the same steps Maelyn took. “You think this is funny, huh? You think you can go on some power trip and just say whatever the fuck you want to say.” His breath is hot and strikes Maelyn’s face in huffs as he talks. 

They stand toe to toe, almost chest to chest. “You asked for it.”

“Bella’s important to me. She’s--I’m being there for her. Like a good friend would be. Like you should be there for me,” Jake hisses.

“She’s only using you! And you’re using her, what do you think we can’t see the petty revenge you’ve got going on. We all dislike the Cullens, but goddamn, Edward’s deep under that skin of yours. He’s not even here anymore. But he’s still so deep in that subconscious, he should pay rent.”

“No,” Jake growls, “it’s because of him that Bella is in this mess. And I’m the only one left attempting to clean it up. So yeah, I think that’s pretty damn important here.”

“And who’s going to be there when she breaks your heart, huh? Who do you think you’re going to turn too when this is all said and done and she goes back to Edward, should he ever return. If he even has the balls enough to come back and fix the mess he made. It’s pathetic. You are. She is. He is too. And so I am, because when you come crawling back, I will still fucking be there.”

“I’m helping her, Lyn. That blooducker has got the hooks in deep, but I’m helping her.”

Maelyn’s laughter crawls up her throat, but it’s hollow as it hits the air. “You’re selfish. Like the rest of us. And you can’t even say his name. It’s two syllables Jake. Just two. Six letters. Say his name.”

“It doesn’t matter what his name is. All that matters is that Victoria is after Bella and that we stop her. So that Bella is safe.”

“No, no, say his name. Say all six letters. Say both syllables,” Maelyn barks. Spit flies out with the harsh consonant sounds. “It’s just one little name. Ed-ward.”

“His name doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” Maelyn questions. The words hurt her throat and taste bitter on her tongue. If Edward didn’t matter, if his involvement, his existence is so easily dismissed, then so is her mother. A woman who looked way too peaceful to have been attacked by an animal in the night in that casket. A woman who only was in the wrong place at the wrong time, because of work, because of a damn job that hired a replacement in three weeks. Maelyn hands are up before she can stop herself, palms flat against Jacob’s chest. The shove is hard. It’s clear from the shock on Jacon’s face he didn’t think it would come to actual blows. “My mother fucking matters,” Maelyn seethes. “Say her name.”

Jacob can only stare. He should say something. Should do as asked, but he’s not looking at his best friend anymore. There is nothing left but the rage. 

“Say it,” Maelyn commands again. 

Though Jacob recovered from the first shove, he still isn’t ready or steady enough on his feet for the second or the third shove that comes his way. His weight tips back and back and right before he lands into the thicket of the trees, Jake captures Maelyn’s wrists. The tears are hot down her face. 

Her anger is hot against her flesh; it racks against her bones, rattling at the enclosure of her self control. She just might let it all out. It’d feel nice for one, to let loose every screw. Might she be able to sink her teeth into his flesh, shred at him with her claws. Yet, It is only Jacob. It is only a kid in front of her. It’s only the potential that he says her name, that Jacob utters the reverent sound that holds Maelyn back. It’s a single thread. It’s the last latch on her box of fury. She can feel it shaking—and maybe that’s actually her. She only needs one more reason to let it all go. She only needs Jacob to refuse to say her mother’s name. 

The tears and the snarl of her lip are the only things that let Jacob know she’s on the edge. That this isn’t just about her opinion on some crush he has. It’d always be deeper for Maelyn. Her mother’s death was ruled an accident, back before Jacob even knew that the legends were true. Back when he still thought that Paul, Jared, and Sam were hall monitors on steroids, and the world seemed random and unfair. Her mother’s death was just random acts of violence and poor timing before it all unraveled. Vampires had been Maelyn’s mother's end. 

“I’m sorry, Lyn. I’m so sorry,” Jake starts. 

“Say her name,” Maelyn demands. It’s the last warning. She will not ask again. 

Jake’s used to the compulsion that comes with an Alpha order, the subconscious string he’s always carrying. But Maelyn’s simple request carries twice the heaviness of any order Sam’s ever given. Jacob thinks refusing would cause the ground to open up and swallow him whole. That or it unleashes every ounce of Maelyn’s wrath. Neither are suitable options. So he exhales. “Taynee.” It falls in a whisper. It’s two syllables. Six letters. 

“And if you ever think I care more about your precious Bella than my mother, you had better hope to God, my mother’s name stops me next time.”

“What’s happening here?” Sam’s voice breaks through the frozen air. He watches Emily’s face, the horror painted in her eyes and worries for a moment if he’s already too late. 

“I need five minutes to get ready,” Maelyn answers, breaking the hold of Jake’s hand on her wrists and heading back into the house.

She, Paul, and Quil have patrols next. Everyone watches as she strides back inside. Even Sam, who notices that his own question has been left unanswered, can only take in the slow strut back, as Maelyn stalks back into the house. The bathroom door closes and like a balloon pricked, everyone exhales. 

“I really thought she was going to snap,” Quil offers up. But no one takes the bait of his light hearted comment. 

Paul slips into the house, catching only just the start of Emily’s retelling to Sam. He knocks on the bathroom door, throwing a glance over his shoulder to make sure no one’s spotted his departure. “It’s me,” he whispers against the wood, to let Maelyn know it’s someone safe that’s followed behind her. 

“I’ll be out in a second.” Her voice sounds shakier now than it did with Jake.

Paul tries the knob but it stiffens a quarter of the way into the twist. “Unlock the door please, Maelyn.” He gets no response. “Please,” he tries this time, softening the request with, “I just--I want to make sure you’re alright.”

The sink runs for a few seconds. Paul listens for the squeal of the pipes and it barely comes, which lets him know she’s using mostly cold water. The lock clicks first, then the knob and the door peels open to reveal the splotchy red streaks under her eyes and over her cheeks, a hardly noticeable construct to the brown of her skin. Maelyn’s darker than Paul by two or three shades, a byproduct of her Black descent. But it’s just light enough that Paul catches the pink that can flush beneath--as rare as that sight is. 

“I’m alright,” she returns, looking back towards the door as she exits the bathroom. A hot pink bra is in her hands. Undoubtedly in efforts to save her good clothes as much as possible the excessive need to phase. 

Paul follows behind her towards the laundry room. “Are you sure? I was certain Jake was going to die today.”

“The day’s still young,” Maelyn returns, tossing her bra onto the top of the dryer. 

He snorts at the jab and in the safety of the walls that divide them away from the rest of the group, Paul takes her free hands. The tips of her fingers just barely shake in his grasps. Paul takes a moment to kiss her knuckles. “My money’s always on you. But I think you should let Sam make some calls--see if Leah can cover--”

“No,” Maelyn interrupts. 

“For you,” Paul continues. “It’s rough, I know, right now.”

There’s several footsteps coming closer and Paul’s not going to risk getting caught. Not if he can help it. He takes a step back, but squeezes at Maelyn’s hand. “Think about it. We’ll be okay for a couple hours until she gets there,” he whispers and then disappears around the corner. The bathroom door clicks closed and Maelyn knows he’s ducked inside. It’s not until the weight of his hold is gone that Maelyn realizes how much the touch meant to her. But the thought is fleeting as she catches Sam’s booming voice. 

“Mae, you can switch off with Leah if you need this evening, we can make it work.”

It’s not an order. It’s an offering. But just behind it, Maelyn catches how quickly it could become one. “I’d rather work.” Though her skin is still hot with anger, and she feels like her bones could burst, she knows going home is not an option. “I think it’s safer that I do my shift tonight,” she adds. 

Sam sighs, but nods, knowing that sending her home in this kind of emotional state is just as bad. “Fine, but Paul, Quil, if you notice anything just a hair off, bring her back and I’ll tag in.”

The toilet flushes and over the roar of the sink, Paul’s affirmative response comes. He cracks open the door and peers out. “Sure the coast is clear? Pretty sure the weather did not include tornadoes.”

“Well,” Mae starts, “it seems like a wet dog is just in your future if you don’t watch it.” The words come out hotter than she means them too. It is all a joke. Meant to crack through the anger. She knows it but she’s still on the jittery edge. The hairs on the back of her neck are still raised. A hair trigger. Only one more reason to make the leap. Though she’s trying to make it two. 

Paul’s crooked smile lets her know that it’s taken with jest. “Anyone ever tell you you’re hot when you’re angry?”

“Gag me with a spoon,” Quil huffs. “I swear sometimes I wonder if the two of you should just sleep together to get it over with, ya know. Spare us this absolute agony.”

“Then she’d never leave me alone,” Paul returns, throwing a soft elbow into her bicep. “Once you have a taste, you’ll want more.”

“Something tells me I’d gag, not Quil,” Mae snorts. Her face is tight. It’s awkward to laugh or to pretend to laugh and hope it sounds real enough. But she knows she can’t sulk for long. She can’t hope or dream of the warm embrace Paul gives. So she settles for the jabs, hoping today it will suffice as a substitute. 

She doesn’t think it will. Today as her paws dig into the dirt, all she can think about is how her mother had gone to Seattle for a business trip and never made it back alive. All she can think about is how just a year ago when the news broke, it’d seem awful and random. It’d felt like terrible timing for her mother to want to go hiking. But all that’s a lie. All that is just to cover up the truth about all the things that go bump in the night. 

All that was much easier to swallow if she’s honest. 

“Jake did ask you to be nice,”  Quil huffs, a bit short and testy about seeing the replay for the second time. 

“I don’t really care what he asked for. He got what he deserved,” Maelyn returns. 

“He really didn’t get anything,” Paul answers. “He should’ve gotten his ass handed to him.”

“Would’ve been entertaining at least,” Quill adds. And if Quil does sense this the apprecation in Maelyn at Paul’s comment, he doesn’t mention it.  Quil continues on instead with, “I mean, Bella does seem nice enough. But she really shouldn’t get involved anymore than she is. Too dangerous. If she learns anything else, I worry about the Treaty.”

“We’re all worried about the Treaty,” Paul returns. He looks in the direction Maelyn took and though her thoughts are loud, the catalog of birds, twigs, and prints, he knows that she’s desperately trying to keep herself together. But he leaves it there--with her nose buried in the ground and figures it’s perhaps better Maelyn takes in the miniscule details. He’d hate to see her actually snap. 

The winds change direction and the trio take their strides with more caution, stretching ears to catch the faintest sound of anything beyond the scuttle of wildlife over the forest floors. But the shift in wind doesn’t uncover anything. The rest of the evening falls around them with little news. No sickly sweet stench to prick their noses and dig further. By the time the sun begins to crest up, they’re already turning towards the horizon of Emily’s place. All of them keep their heads on a swivel even at the tail end of their shifts. 

Paul and Quil don’t slow when Maelyn does. They already know the routine to carry on yards ahead of her and phase first. She’ll come up last after a couple minutes so that she can grab her clothes and phase back too. When their thoughts are gone, when it’s just Maelyn’s own internal voice, she exhales. It comes out in a snort. The relief though is immediate, like muscles under hot water. Maelyn’s never been more pleased to be back in her own head than ever before. She’s not sure how the hell she’s going to face Jacob again. Doesn’t know if she went too far or if she didn’t go far enough. 

The limbs in front of her shake a bit and Paul steps over the fallen carcass of a tree. In his hands are her clothes. She’s not sure why Paul’s resurfacing now, though she might suspect it’s because of yesterday. When their eyes meet, Paul grins, a bit of the mischievous cackle falling behind it. “I told Quil to go home. That I’d brief Sam since I know his mom’s on his ass lately. He wanted to wait for you but he’s more scared of his mother--as he should be. Besides, this gives me an excuse to see your tits again. You know, under the guise of protection.”

Maelyn finds most of the gesture endearing. As her bones constrict, snapping back like elastic bands, she sucks her teeth. The world goes from a vibrant hue back down, the glint of the sunrise off the dew on the leaves, to dulled wet gray before it clears back up again, like getting the snow off the TV with a good thwack to the back of it. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re flirting with me,” Maelyn takes the stack--still neatly folded like she left it--of her clothes and throws the tank over her shoulder before shimmying into the shorts. 

“Damn, you really ought to know me better,” Paul teases. It’s only a stride and a half between them and he closes the distance before she can pull the tank top from its resting place on her shoulder. 

They both run the same temperature--but the weight makes all the difference as Paul slithers an arm around Maelyn’s waist. They’re the same height. Though with Paul in shoes, he manages to get over her by an inch. His gaze is warm and sincere on her. If Maelyn had less sense, she might say the look means something more. But she knows, now with imprinting on the supernatural table, whatever they feel for each other is only going to wind up in heartache at the worst. At best, they both make it out with no hard feelings and plenty of stories. 

“You sure you’re okay?” His voice is soft as he asks the question. He knows there’s no easy answer to it. There’s no reason for Maelyn to be okay. But he wants her to know that he still cares. 

“I’m…not terrible,” she confesses. 

Paul nods, humming as if to consider if her response is acceptable. Then nods confidently. “I can accept ‘not terrible’ this time.”

Maelyn snorts. “This time, huh?”

“Yeah, this time. Next time I might not. Really just depends on how I’m feeling, if I’m honest.”

Her nails trail up and over his skin, short and the polish chipping but the sensation still sends goosebumps over his body. Paul captures her lips--short and sweet--into a kiss. Their noses brush and Paul presses his forehead into hers. “You really should’ve beaten his ass though. I was about to.”

The laughter is quick as it leaves Maelyn, a tuft of laughter for the small levity of the moment. “No, I want that honor. Since you already lost to him.”

“Once,” Paul scoffs. “And when it comes to you, it matters. I don’t know how long I would’ve lasted on the sidelines of that fight.”

Paul’s good at that, Maelyn realizes. Making things seem so simple when in reality they’re so devastatingly meaningful. To him, it’s obvious. It’s the way it’s supposed to be. But to Maelyn it feels like gravity could be replaced by the sentiment. It doesn’t. It could, though, if they were still just humans. Maelyn’s wondered more than once since this relationship started if neither one of them phased how their paths would’ve crossed. If they’d find themselves growing old together. She’s a little older and they’d really interacted in brief moments back in high school. He hung with a different crowd and Maelyn was looking forward to graduating, moving on to nursing or maybe computer engineering. She wasn’t sure, but if they’d stayed only human, it seems like the answer to her question is a resounding no. 

Perhaps, there’s a reward for such exchanges in life. 

Her exhale is shaky and she wants to cling to him, though they’re already chest to chest. Maelyn would love to crawl into his chest if she could. But that would never happen. “I think it’d get called out for cheating,” she say, finally shaking lose the thought and worry from her earlier ruminating. 

“Well, guess I’m a cheater then,” he returns with a shrug. 

Yeah, Maelyn thinks, this could change gravity’s shift. Part of her keeps hoping it will. Her shirt falls, hardly a sound, and more just the sensation of the fabric slipping down her shoulder and back as she wraps her arms around Paul’s neck. The kiss is hot, desperate--so much so that even Maelyn worries it’s too much. But Paul responds all the same, teeth nipping at her lower lip, hands sliding down to her ass. 

The forest around them is unbothered. And there’s very little worry in Paul or Maelyn as nips are made at their necks and gasps escape them. It’s easy, too fucking easy, but even as Paul sucks at the juncture of neck and shoulder, Maelyn knows they’re risking more than just hickies. She’s supposed to be home soon. Her phone’s not on her and she can’t let her dad know she might be running late. Sam’s undoubtedly going to start looking soon if they don’t surface. But it just feels all too good. 

The risk doesn’t outweigh the reward in the end. Maelyn whispers into Paul’s ear, “We should head back.” It leaves her breathless, but it’s just loud enough. 

“Just,” Paul hums, pressing his lips into her cheek now. The dramatic ‘muah’ smack follows it.  “One more.” He seals the sentiment with a quick peck. “You’re right. We’re already late and I don’t need Sam on my ass either.”

“It’s a nice ass,” Maelyn laughs, patting his backside twice before twisting in his arms to find her shirt. 

“Oh!” Paul laughs. He secures both arms around her waist right as Maelyn just barely gets her fingers around her shirt. The hoist happens fast and it’s not even that strong of a hoist either. But the threads of her shirt catch onto the sharp bark of the fallen log. In all her calculations, she should’ve dropped the shirt. But her grasp tightens and her laughter falls before it chokes out on the snap. The shirt separates, the threads popping as she goes up. 

“Shit,” Maelyn huffs. 

“Please tell me that was in fact your spine and not your shirt,” Paul hisses against her shoulder. He lowers her down and there, from her fingers rests the tattered gray tank top. 

“Unless I have an exoskeleton, that was indeed my shirt.” Maelyn knows the shirt is not salvageable. The front torn right across the chest. Not even enough integrity in the fabric to cover the thought of her nipples. 

“Shit,” he whispers. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” she returns. And it’s really not his fault, or anyone’s fault either. Just poor timing. “Just a shirt. But, do you think that you could get a shirt for me once we’re closer to Emily’s place?”

“Of course, yeah. C’mon.” 

It’s not awkward in the woods with no top for Maelyn. It probably wouldn’t be awkward to come up to Emily’s topless. But the worry bubbles at her gut the closer they get to the house. Paul’s taken up the lead but with the shared height, Maelyn can see what waits up ahead. A red rusted truck. One that she knows the Blacks gave to Bella upon her arrival. There’s not much cover. Paul’s sans shirt, as usual and the trees are a little thin on the edges of the property. There’s very little hiding that can be done. 

The silence of Paul is deafening. A calculation he’s undoubtedly making and Maelyn’s attempting to find a less embarrassing solution to this problem too. “Think I’m fast enough not to be seen?” she jokes. 

It doesn’t land as well as she hopes by the slight growl that grows up from Paul’s chest. “You could phase back,” he offers. 

It’s not worth the headache. And she’d have to strip in order to do that too. “I guess I could leave the bra here and get home, but no doubt Dad’s waiting on the porch by now. I don’t think he wants me to turn up naked unless absolutely necessary.”

“I think this qualifies as absolutely necessary.”

“Paul, it’s just boobs. I mean, it could be worse. I could be totally naked.”

He huffs, and shuffles the half step back to close the gap between them. Her chest brushes against his skin and muscle. It’s no shock how protective Paul’s being right now. She thinks in a reversal, she’d get the concern too. “I’m not liking our odds,” he whispers. There’s movement near the front door and the gift of distance won’t save them for much longer. 

“Our odds?  Your tits being out is normalized,” Maelyn huffs. “I mean they are great tits though,” she tacks on, moving to take a step around to take a look. 

But Paul’s quicker, arm slipping around her waist to push her back behind him yet again. “You can get a look later. Right now, we’ve got two important decisions to make.”

“Which are?”

“If you want to talk to Jake and if you’ll cheat for me should he not take a hint.”

Maelyn nods. It’s the easiest decision she’d ever have to make. A decision she’d make a thousand times over if she had the opportunity to do so. “Call the sheriff now and let him know there’s two cheaters in town.”

The next steps are cautious as the pair navigates the yard. Paul keeps his eyes trained on the open door, praying that no one breaks through the line. Just wait on the inside, he prays. Maelyn and Paul make it to the truck before the prayer shatters. He spots the shuffle of someone closer now and then the shadow breaks from one into two across the floorboards. “They should be back by now,” Jacob huffs. “Sorry about this, Bella.”

Maelyn’s blood freezes. The universe has to hate her. It’s revenge, she swears it. That or it’s Jacob's persistent optimism. Though it was a positive in most situations, right now it was becoming more of a nuisance. They’re too far past the truck now to make cover of it. Maelyn already knows if Bella goes around to the left, she’s exposed. Her and Paul’s frozen steps won’t save her. They are sitting ducks, wading in the open waters and waiting for the final blow. 

“Oh, Paul, why are you guys so late?” Jacob asks. 

And right behind him, Bella comes out, pushing to the left. Maelyn tries to cover herself, tries to use her forearm to keep herself modest. But it’s rather useless. “Oh, shit, sorry. I’m--sorry!” Bella shouts before spinning around. 

“There was a bit of a mishap,” Paul starts.

“Mishap?” Jake questions. His voice comes out panicked and Maelyn’s still too busy watching the shake of Paul’s shoulder to care about Jacob’s shrieked horror when he realizes she’s topless. 

Perhaps, there’s a third decision that will have to be made today too. 

“Baby,” Maelyn starts, pushing in even further to Paul’s back. She takes his hand and though it slows the tremors, it doesn’t stop them. 

“Can you dickheads not fucking stare?” Paul barks. 

“Hey, look, it’s not a big deal,” Maelyn offers. “It’s just--”

“It’s just the fact that they’re staring, Mae,” Paul snaps. He turns his head to look at her over his shoulder. His stare is hot. “I knew it would happen. I told you.”

“You were right, okay, baby. But I need you to breathe with me. Because I swear, if you phase, I’ll have to keep my problem and then we’ll both be fucking naked at the end of it all. So inhale, two, three,” Maelyn starts. 

It’s a rule. Paul can’t ignore the breathing technique, not quite an order from Sam, but it might as well be. Paul’s committed to this boundary and would rather be struck dead than cross it. He exhales for five. And follows the count for his inhale, “Inhale, two, three. Exhale, two, three, four, five,” Maelyn repeats.

The tremors leave. But the heat of the embarrassment is slow to leave. The worry now takes the place of the anger. Sam corrals everyone back inside and it’s enough of a command to allow Paul to walk Maelyn into the safety of the laundry room with Emily. 

Emily would shoo Paul away, tell him to give Maelyn some privacy. But he is already doing that. He stands at the door, back turned, arms folded and she wonders if he’d fight to stay there should she push the matter. Perhaps, it’s best to just let it be as she digs into the baskets of clean clothes she hadn’t folded yet. 

“Okay, but did no one else catch the way Maelyn addressed Paul as ‘baby’ or are we just going to act like that didn’t happen?” Jared snickers from the living room. 

“Shut up, Jared,” Paul hollers. 

Maelyn winces when Emily produces a t-shirt. Maelyn’s easily twice the size of Emily. Not that Emily was tiny, just normal. What Maelyn wished she was so desperately at times. “Hope you’re not too attached,” Maelyn quips.

Emily laughs. “I was looking for an excuse to let it go. But if that doesn’t work, the only thing I’ve got left are a couple of shirts from Sam.”

Maelyn sizes up the shirt. It’s a woman’s medium at best and looks like it’ll snap just in her hands. So Maelyn hands it back. “I think if I were to choose your shirt, I should just stay topless.”

Emily snickers and takes the black short sleeved t-shirt. “Fair.” 

In the end, Maelyn slips into Sam’s white undershirt and when she faces Paul again, still standing guard, she sighs. “I’m sorry,” she whispers knowing the pack will not let either one of them rest now that the secret is out about them dating. The group’s ruckus from the living room is hopefully enough cover. “I was just worried about you.”

Paul takes her hand without even fully turning around. “I appreciate the worry.” It’s all he says, but he does smile, thumb brushing over the back of her hand as they move towards the kitchen. 

Bella’s gaze is shifty and her cheeks are pink when she looks back at Maelyn. Paul and Sam debrief rather quickly. However, with her hand intertwined with Paul’s, Maelyn knows she’s not leaving without him any time soon. Now that the truth is out there, there’s less concern about having to be careful. It’s a nice feeling to be able to share this closeness with Paul openly, but Maelyn knows all the glances aren’t always friendly. 

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” Maelyn calls out to Bella. “No one knew, so it’s not even like you could’ve done anything differently.”

“Still,” Bella stutters out. “I’m really sorry.”

“Consider it a story to tell when you’re older,” Maelyn offers. It’s the best she can offer. It does make an interesting story at least.

Bella flinches at the statement and though Maelyn goes to offer an apology, Jacob interjects. “So, Bella, sorry for the strange introduction. But Lyn’s been a friend for a while now. And I’m hoping that-”

“Ready?” Paul questions, cutting the spill off before it starts. Jake takes a step forward, mouth still primed to say more.  

“I’m late getting home because of the, well you know,” Maelyn relays to Bella. “But it was nice meeting you.” 

“Nice-nice meeting you too. I hope we can talk more next time,” she offers. 

It’s only a nod. Maelyn’s not going to lie. But she’s not going to be rude either. She leads Paul out, hands still intertwined as they go. They throw a parting over their shoulders and take the stairs down two at a time. Their feet don’t even hit the grass before Bella’s voice floats out, “She still seems pretty upset.”

“She’s just stubborn. I’ll talk some sense into her,” Jake returns. 

Could Maelyn’s mother's name save Jacob twice in twelve hours? She’s ready to carry herself back up the steps, ready to prove to Jacob just how stubborn she is. But Paul’s hold is strong. 

He nods her forward, away from the house. “Go. Your dad’s already on a thin rope.”

“You don’t have to save me.”

“I know. Because we’re both cheaters,” he winks at the mention. “But I need you to go home. Your dad, okay. Just go home, please. I’ll take care of this.”

It’s not lost on Maelyn that Paul’s own father is probably not pleased at his tardiness either. But Paul’s never seemingly been worried about that fact. In fact, Maelyn’s sure Paul does everything he can to avoid being at home, much like Embry. She should get home, she does like having the freedoms she does get. Maelyn squeezes at Paul’s hand. “Call me when you get home, okay?”

Paul nods. “Have I ever missed a call?”

“Never.”

“And I don’t plan on it. Now, go. Home.”

She’d love to kiss him, but she’s beyond late. Maelyn begins to wonder if it’s better just not to show up at home at all. But she nods, and spins, carrying herself down the dirt paths back to her house. 

“Let’s try that again,” Paul bellows into the house behind her. “Yeah, you Jacob. Try it again.”

Paul will have hell for that, sticking up for Maelyn. But he has no reservations about it. He’d do this again and again, if he could. Hell, he thinks he’d love to do this, being in Maelyn’s corner and having hers in his. It’s been easy, natural like they were always supposed to do this. But it itches in the back of his brain that it’s not really meant to be like this forever. If it was, they would’ve imprinted on each other. Yet, still Paul doesn’t think this is fighting fate. Maybe they’re meant for something else in each others lives. Maybe soulmates are more than just imprints. But he doesn’t dwell on that long. It’s never spared him, ruminating on what life will hold for him and Maelyn. They had the present and that’s all that matter. Though, Paul’s not sure what could be stronger than the realization that he’d be happy if his life never changed and no one else came after Maelyn. 

Maelyn’s jog slows when she catches the sight of her porch steps. On them, her father sits and it’s never a good sign. If it weren’t for the exhaustion, she’d be more prepared, but all she can huff out is the half hearted, “Sorry. Sorry, I’m late.”

Her father stands, holding her phone up into air. “Aren’t you supposed to call if you’re going to be late?” his voice booms. “And where’s your shirt? You said you had patrols? Were you with Paul?”

“My shirt got ripped on a log, Dad.” Maeyln holds out the tattered ends as proof. “Then Jacob brought Bella over. I just--I lost it on him before my patrols and things have just been seemingly not going well yesterday or today.”

“Lost it? I’m going to lose it. You’re supposed to call me if you’re going to be late.” Her father’s voice breaks on the words. His hot stare crumbles and the truth culprit of anxiety rears its head. 

She understands. The anxiety isn’t helped by her lack of communication. Anything could be happening. He’d be powerless, a simple human in the midst of the supernatural. A cellphone is his only defense. Maelyn keeps her hands up, shirt tattered and dirty from the forest floor. “I’m really sorry, Dad. I’m sorry. I know it’s not enough, but I am sorry.”

He drops the cellphone into her hands. “Next time don’t let Paul make you forget this.”

“You love Paul,” Maelyn counters. She can’t tell her dad otherwise that it was a torn shirt. And even if it is true that the shirt tore due to Paul’s action, that wouldn’t save her either.

“Yeah, I’d love to go a few rounds with that boy. Get inside and shower. I know you’re in his shirt.”

“It’s Sam’s,” she counters but carries up the steps. 

“I don’t really care,” her father huffs. “Just get inside. You’ll be lucky if you’re allowed to your shift later today with this act.”

Maelyn takes the loss, knowing it’s temporary. She’ll make it to her shift at Shannon’s tonight. With the loss of her mother, the shifts are a godsend. Any compensation from the company’s check after the loss of her mother has gone straight to keeping food in the house now with Maelyn’s new found change. Besides, she knows that her dad will believe her eventually, but she doesn’t try to push her luck. Not for something that in the long run may not even matter. 

The inside of the house feels too small, and there on the coffee tables the photoalbum Maelyn can’t bring herself to touch anymore. The empty slot makes it too heavy. All but that photo had come back with her mother’s personal affects after she’d been identified and returned home. Her father still looks through the couch cushions, in old filing cabinets. No police precinct or morgue’s ever called to say they’ve found it either. 

Maelyn ignores the rants of her father still filling the space with hot hair and goes to her bedroom. There, still on the bed is the pile of her mother’s old clothes. Her father left the box on her floor three days ago with the warning to pick what Maelyn wanted to keep before the rest got donated. Her pile is mostly sweatshirts with the necks cut out entirely or into V’s, so now the item fits baggier which are the only things Maelyn can fit now thanks to her growth spurt. Though, she did sneak some t-shirts just because they still smelled like her mother. 

The box is now gone and only the pile remains. She should wash them, and had every intent to, but couldn’t bring herself to put them in the hamper, so on the bed they went. 

“Don’t go closing doors in my house,” her father huffs, cracking the door open to her bedroom. “Breakfast will be ready soon if you’re hungry.”

She always is at this point, so she only nods. “Okay.” It’s the only thing that won’t start another fight. Her mother would’ve listened, would’ve wanted to hear about what had prompted Maelyn to lose it on Jacob. Her dad would’ve too, but now he’s too far gone in his own grief to seem to understand what Maelyn wanted to say to him. 

Maelyn can’t lose her mother three times, she knows. But as she presses the sweatshirts into her chest, she fears she could lose to a washing machine.

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

Wide High Jeans in Pale Blue Denim from H&M ($29.99)

[stungunlazertag]

three ex dark lords. THREE EX DARK LORDS

made a hc that they were roommates (omg they were roommates /ref)

[carbonateddelusion]

I'd imagine that the kids call him Mr. C instead of his actual last name. or Mr. Clements. because they're silly and either are too young to know how to pronounce it correctly or genuinely just don't care

Leah calls him Edgar, though, much to his discomfort, because she's a teenager. Off the top of my head I think the only kids who end up calling him "Dad" areeee Owen, Mason, Jiang, and maybe Olivia? I don't know how canon that last one is though bc we're in the middle of retooling her character and Livi comes from a very healthy happy family so I don't see why she'd consider him "Dad". maybe more of a funny lookin' uncle who's watching over her for the time being.

Mason had a terrible upbringing with a neglectful mother and an abusive father, Jiang was never really close to his actual dad because he was always absent, and Owen... is a little more complicated ig. Owen grew up with a closeted trans man and a "straight" older man as his dads; Edgar reminds him of his cis dad very much so. eventually there's just a bond that forms there after Owen tries to kill Edgar one too many times.

Owen self-harms while in Edgar's body a lot because. he's a very upset child who doesn't know what to do. he's aggressive, and all he knows is that hurting himself (through Edgar) makes it go away temporarily/distracts him. Eddie and him have one of those kinda unspoken bonds because of all the stuff Owen does in an attempt to harm Edgar, in his body or outside of it, but Eddie just... keeps forgiving him. again and again. so eventually Owen gives up out of frustration

[centuriesrpg]

I'm pretty sure you have stardust

running through those veins

[storyofwhoiam]

Bedroom asks Leah: 1, 4, 11

Bedroom Asks | @shcftingpieces

What kind of bed do they sleep in? What size is it? Leah's got homes in a couple of different locations, plus spends a decent amount of time either in a hotel, or on the road, so there's a decent amount of variability, but whenever she gets the option, Leah prioritises comfort. She has high-quality bedding made from sustainable materials, with layers of soft blankets and throws, and plenty of pillows across her beds. Leah's own beds are at least king-size. Regardless of the bed size though, when sharing her bed with someone, Leah cuddles in close.

Where do they keep their clothes? How are their clothes organized? Leah's lifestyle demands substantial wardrobes in her different homes. She has spacious walk-in wardrobes where she tries to keep her everyday wear stored separately from more formal attire and clothing she wears for public appearances. She tries to make a conscious choice to source clothes brands that follow ethical and eco-friendly practices.

Are there any decorative elements to their bedroom? What are they? In Leah's LA home, where natural light is abundant, the bedroom is designed to enhance this feature. Light and sheer curtains allow sunlight to filter in, creating a bright and uplifting atmosphere. In contrast, her New York bedroom incorporates more accent lighting, with strategically placed lamps and fixtures to create a cosy and intimate ambiance. Leah likes to add cosy touches to her bedrooms to strike a balance between her personal life and public career. Vinyl records, plaques, and awards from her music journey are displayed alongside items related to her father's career. The walls have a mixture of artwork — from modern paintings to gifts from friends and family — alongside framed photographs of special moments with loved ones. There is, of course, also both LA Dodgers memorabilia and musical instruments in both bedrooms.

[its-to-the-death]

Battle of the Gingers Bracket H Round 2

Evilmon (Digimon) vs Leah (Stardew Valley)

[nancydrewfashionblog]

Who: Leah Lewis as George Fan What: H&M Crop Top in Pink/patterned - Sold Out Where: 4x03 “The Danger of the Hopeful Sigil”

Previously IDed HERE

[daenerys-targaryen]

my man ramin really put his whole bussy into Iight of the seven 💅🏻

[sdvsalad]

Delivery! - Cassia & Leah Chat

Desc: Cassia makes a simple material drop-off to Leah, who's working on something special. Cassia ends up staying a little longer than she expected. Anise and Basil are obligated to be annoying about this due to being her cousins, you know how it is.

Notes: Half Author C, half Author B (B's the one writing the notes here, hi!), and a little Author A. Turns out Cassia is more anxious than she seems sometimes! She really only socializes while she's working at the saloon, so entering other people's spaces isn't common for her, which might explain some of it (fear of overstepping boundaries). Usually she'd be casually flirting with Leah, but she's a bit confused on how to act when they see eachother out and about around others.

Cassia was delivering some wood to Leah. She did this on occasion, as she had plenty of extra wood from her attempts to cull the enchanted woods around her farm, and Leah was deep into a carving project that she needed scrap wood for. Plus her cousins’ unsuccessful fishing attempts had rendered them too much driftwood to reasonably store in the home. 

As she strolled over to Leah’s cabin Cassia had a sickening feeling in her stomach, her nerves were getting to her. This was an uncomfortable feeling, one she hadn’t felt since she’d first introduced herself to the residents of Stardew Valley all those years ago. But Leah made her feel different than everyone else, there was something about the way she spoke that had always caught Cassia’s attention. Her kindness and passion were admirable but not in a way that made her envious, just awestruck. Even though they’d been chatting for months at the saloon these feelings of nervousness never seemed to fade. 

None of that mattered though, Cassia had a promise to uphold and responsibilities to tend to. As she pushed her thoughts away she realized she’d arrived at Leah’s door. 

As gently as she could Cassia knocked on the cabin’s entrance, it was difficult not to make a dent in the softwood Leah had chosen. Her previously failed attempts to knock gently could be seen in a shallow indentation of the wood, she was surprised Leah hadn’t crafted a new door by now. Especially since she’d so graciously hand engraved a new door for Cassia’s cabin after she’d cracked it from slamming it into a wilderness golem. Just then the door swung open.

“Oh hello Cassi, it’s good to see you!” Leah spoke warmly, and her face and hands had dried paint on them that crinkled as she smiled. 

“It’s nice to see you too, I had some extra driftwood and hardwood lying around so I thought you could use it.” Cassia said. She was worried she’d come off too blunt but her expression remained neutral. 

“These shapes are so interesting, it’s amazing what nature can make! Thank you so much, please come inside you must be tired from carrying all that.” 

Cassia paused for a moment, was that a good idea? She had planned to go to the mines after this, Clint had requested some fresh iron on the Help Wanted Board.

“I-” she was ready to politely decline when she felt Leah tug on her arm to bring her inside. Of course Leah couldn’t physically move Cassia but she went along with the motion anyways. She let herself be dragged past the threshold and followed Leah to her workspace to drop off the wood. After she dropped it into a pile, she looked at the small sculptures that littered Leah’s table. They were strange, abstract, twisting shapes in miniature, some painted, some linked together by some kind of wood-crafting miracle work.

“See anything that catches your eye there?” Leah asked. She was smiling, but looked like she was waiting intently for whatever feedback Cassia had to give.

Cassia didn’t know what to do, so she made a snap judgement. “I think they’re neat.” Oh Yoba- was that the right thing to say? Did that come off as too familiar? She didn’t know how to talk to people she should just go back to serving drinks in stony silence-

Oh, Leah looked happy. And she looked cute when she was smiling like that. Uh, good?

What was the difference between awkward silence and comfortable silence? Cassia felt awfully uncomfortable but Leah appeared totally unperturbed as always. Why couldn’t Cassia pull her usual blank exterior around Leah? This was so, so annoying. Made worse by the fact that her cousins were waiting outside further away gossiping about how Cassia was soooooo in love - Cassia regretted taking them along on the walk. This pitstop was just supposed to be a drop off and now she was sitting next to Leah on her comfortable sofa and drinking tea and listening to her talk about the intricacies of carving. She was cool. 

Cassia made it out in one piece without making any horrible conversational mistakes, probably, she thinks; she was still feeling a little off kilter as she approached her cousins. Anise and Basil were giving her a smug look from the place where they’d settled down in the shade of a tree a little distance from Leah’s cabin. They’d apparently been keeping themselves entertained by drawing in the dirt with sticks (Cassia was too deep in… whatever emotions she was dealing with to care that much about the magic circles that Anise had been practicing).

“Someone got a little present!” Anise sing-songed, pointing at Cassia’s hand. Oh right. Leah had pressed something into her hand before she’d stepped out and she’d gotten flustered at the contact and just thanked Leah and ushered herself out without looking at it. She opened up her hand to find one of the little sculptures she’d seen when she first went in. Delicate loops carved from light, smooth wood… It might look nice on her bedside table.

“Did we get anything?” Basil asked, knowing the answer fully well.

Cassia put the sculpture in her pocket, running her fingers over the soft wood grain. “You can get yourself something when we stop at the store. C’mon, we’ve got more errands to do,” Cassia said, starting towards town. Anise and Basil stood up from their spots, brushing off the dust and stretching exaggeratedly before trotting after her, Basil complaining about Pierre’s snack selection and Anise trying to prod the “juicy details” out of Cassia.

Leah, watching from her porch step, laughed softly and stepped back inside… but not before blowing a kiss at Cassia’s back as she walked away.