#here i have my bag at the far end and my feet still don't touch

[inkskinned]

i'm used to it, and how bad it is, and how often it's so bad that it rings like a bell inside of me, drowning out everything around me. and the truth is that i get frustrated with myself about it - again? we're like this still? again? it's not that i feel weak, precisely. it's just this sense almost like - i've already been pushing against this thing for years now, shouldn't i have gained more ground?

i get frustrated because i'm sick of picking up the loose ends every six months. i get frustrated because it's always this same shit, same problem - i lose myself in a matter of months; spiral out of control, lose touch with friends and loved ones. i stop taking care of myself and therapy gets hard and i let everything around me wilt and shrivel and fall off; start somehow both sleeping too much and not-enough. i panic-attack and cry in my car in a target parking lot, pulling my hair out and hurting my ribs from sobbing so hard - and later, when i'm better, i'm embarrassed because how could i let it get that far?

it feels like - i already have done this so many times. isn't there a way out of it? isn't there a point where i've just... won? that it never happens again, that i just get to be done? maybe this is weakness, i guess - that i still (so often!) succumb.

i am used to it, so i forget exactly how hard it gets. do you even know how many times i've laid in bed, exhausted, blank and numb and listless and said - i can't anymore. i just can't. i'm not even really upset. it's okay. i've been here long enough. so much of my life was beautiful.... i'm just... done.

do you know how many times i woke up and i said - i can't and put my feet on the floor and said i can't, i don't want to and took a shower and walked the dog and bought myself fresh bread and put a nice playlist on and said i really can't, there's no end to this and i went to work and i called a friend and i made myself cookies even if food tasted like ashes and decided that i really should wait for the new album from that artist i love and i thought i can't, it's not worth it and then i washed my hands and cut my hair and drank more water and wrote a poem and signed up for an art class at the local community college and said i can't, i can't, i won't do this again, and i paid my rent and let the dishes rot in the sink but still made myself eat anything fresh even if it meant overdrawing my account on a stupid bag of plums just because they looked delicious and do you know how often i closed my eyes and thought this is it i really fucking can't, something has to give and i have nothing left that it can take and then i went to bed and i got up and i fucking survived anyway

yesterday the local ice cream place opened up for the first time this season and they were giving out tiny samples of their new dairy-free options and i tried a mango sorbet. three months ago i was positive that februrary was going to be my last month on the planet. i am teaching my dog a new trick and i just discovered a new band i love. i got a plant from the clearance aisle and repotted her and she's been perking up. i made salmon for alison and we ate it in her new house with her new beautiful baby girl. my manager told me he keeps recommending my work to others just because i always include a stupid number of puns. tomorrow i'm trying a new dance class. tomorrow i'm maybe going to buy more plums.

i forget, you know? it's not some bone-deep strength or some magical power. it's that some part of me knows - i need to stay. in all of this; out of all of this - i just want to choose love.

[yuyu1024]

Honeymoon

Pairings: Wonwoo × y/n

Genre/tags: marriage, non idol

Warning: fluff, not really smut but suggestive, pet names, cursing, semi-public

~~~ [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 1.5k

Disclaimers:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

A/N:

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

It's honeymoom trip to Italy. And here you are sitting by the pool of the vacation house your husband rented, alone and lonely.

He have been very preoccupied. It's not by choice but something terrible happened in the business that needed his attention. Being the boss, the son of the owner of their company, he is expected to be present on meetings so he have been on his laptop most of the time.

So to break down what your schedule have been so far is:

Day 1 was a bit okay. You guy arrived, slept and ate a lot. Also luckily to have the night time to yourselves where you got to have a date night and walk around with him and also make love before crashing to dreamland.

Day 2, phew, that started very hectic. He got the call from Korea and everything spiralled. It ruined his mood and then he had to say sorry to you. Even you had a call from home, from his parents explaining what happened so... its. Alright. You are sort of used to it. You've dated him for awhile so, you've seen some of it already

Day 3, still hectic but this day, finally he have time to eat and breathe. Though he still stayed at your room and been on calls.

Day 4, today... it's boring now. Well for you. You've finished the book you started reading yesterday and you've gonne shopping already as well. You want your man. You need your husband. So funny how you miss him even though he is just in the room.

You've had enough. You need to do something or else, he will continue working.

***

[Wonwoo's phone buzzes]

💖: i miss you.

💖: pls come and join me here at the pool.

🖤: almost done.

You pout as you see his response. You are not happy. So in exchange of being disappointed, you decide to trigger him.

Wonwoo is a very shy, timid and proper person. He is very put together. Though He look cold or a snob because most of the time because of how he carries himself around other people; Wonwoo is still a gentle, sweet, caring and kind person. But one thing most people don't know about him nor even his parents probably is how conservative he is. Especially when it comes to you.

His main reason why is, he does not want to share you. Your body is his only. No other person have the right to see, touch or even admire from afar. He is protective like that.

So to make him come down to you quick, you take a very risky video by the pool. A video of you removing your long white lace kimono revealing your white two piece bathing suite. And then teasing him by pulling the string around your neck, showing him a nip slip. On purpose.

💖: [video sent]

You smile proudly as you see him view it the second it got received.

[Phone buzzes]

"What the fuck are you doing?" He sounds pissed

"Sunbathing..." you mumble as you lay down your back on your lounge chair. "My husband is busy... he prefers to do meetings than to spend time with me on our honeymoon..."

He sighs heavily. "Y/N... you know why..."

"I know." Now you sound bitter. "But isn't two days enough? And by your secretary's report everything is doing well now right?"

"It is... I just--"

"What you're doing now is your regular work. And you chose to work than to spend time with me." You are more pissed than you thought you were. "Maybe you should just fuck your work and then give birth to more workaholics mini you. Ugh!" You got up from laying down and then end the call before throwing your phone inside your straw bag. "I should just probably fly back then..." you mumble to yourself

You angrily slide your feet into your sandals, put on your kimono on and drag your straw bag.

"Where do you think you're going?" He emerges from the door, finally.

You roll your eyes away and stomp your way into the house, walking pass him. Dramatic but it felt right while doing it.

"Y/N... honey..." he calls as he follows you to wherever you are moving to.

You enter your shared bedroom, saw that his laptop is still on the desk. "I'm just going to get dress." You say while sounding more disappointed that ever. You also looked like a child that their parents said no when you ask for a treat. "I changed my mind about swimming..."

"Honey..." Wonwoo holds you by the waist, stopping you from entering the walk in closet. "Don't." He snakes his arms around you and kisses your neck from behind.

"You just want me to go swimming so I'll leave you alone in our room... so you can work..." your snort. "Maybe we should've not went on honeymoon then."

"Stop... please..." he hugs you. "I'm sorry... I got carried away... I'm not used to having vacation... I went overboard... I admit it... so please... forgive me..." he turns you around to face him. "Please?"

You stare at your husband. His hair is still messy and he is still in his pajamas. "Turn off your laptop and phone then..." you pout. "They can handle it on their own... we just have a few days left here before we leave..."

"Okay." He says, smiling

"Promise?"

"Promise." He hums before kissing you on the tip of your nose. "So... should we go and swim now?"

You try to surpress you excitment but you can't really hide it which made Wonwoo chuckle.

"My wife is so darn cute." He says before scooping you off the floor. You yelped by the sudden action but you automatically put your arms around his neck.

***

However, instead of actuallt swimming around the pool, your husband instead just cornered you in the pool and didn't stopped making out with you.

He started from rubbing your arms to help you warm up a little because the water is cold to rubbing his pelvis in you whilst sucking your soul through your mouth. He does not even care that his glasses got splashed by the water. He is just focused on kissing you and skimming your body with his hands.

"Honey..." you breathe as he goes to your neck and nibble your skin, inch by inch.

"Hmm...?" He does not stop kissing your skin. He even reached your collar bone and then shoulder

"I thought we're swimming..." you giggle

He stops and looks at you. "We are at the pool right?" His lips curves into this cheeky smile. "For me, we are swimming..." he adds before going back to kissing your neck

"But honey..." you wrap your arms around his neck, your hands laying flat on his broad shoulders. "The pool is so big... its a shame we don't do a few dive or... float on that cute little pineapple floaty."

He sighs whilst his lips is still on your skin. "Why? Do you want to show everybody your body?"

"Honey... you know we're alone right?"

He tilts his head to the side, acting like he does not know. Or does he really?

"Wonwoo... seriously?" You pinch his cheeks. "We're alone at this house... the staffs only comes in the morning up to two in the afternoon."

"Oh."

"See? You being so busy that you already forgot what they told us on day1."

He licks his lips and a smirk spreads across his lips. "That's good then..."

"Hm? Why--"

He crashes his lips again to you but this time its more aggressive. And his hands, its not just sensually skimming your body now. It has more intentions than that.

"Ugh!" Your mouth suddenly drops open, eyes in pure shock and also lust when his fingers starts rubbing your clit. "Wo...Wonwoo..." you breathe

"Your mine..." he says before he goes lower so he could reach for your chest area. "All mine." He kisses your exposed skin under that swimsuit and he leaves a very very big mark after he sucked your skin.

You arch your back a little and spread your arms around the rim of the pool. And then you lift both your legs to wrap around his waist.

"Do you want me to continue, honey?" He asks

You nod. "Please..."

He pulls the string of your buttom, revealing you under water. "We don't need this." He waves your undies and then throws it to the nearest lounge chair. "And probably, we don't need thid either..." his palms your tits over the thin cover. "This is barely covering your beautiful tits..." he says

"I only wore it for you...." you say before planting a soft kiss on the corner of his lips, teasing him as well down there. "Your hard." You whisper while you squeeze him.

"How can I not? I have my beautiful wife in front of me... wanting me..." he cups your face and kisses you. Slow and sensual. "Maybe we should get out of the pool and find a more comfortable place... I can't still risk anyone... hearing my wife moan... its for me to hear and enjoy only..."

[thewritingofspencerrose]

Mistakes Made

Travis Kelce x OC

I've gone to stay with Jason and the girls. When you've decided you're ready to talk, you know where to find me.

Those words weren't the first thing to trigger Travis to the fact that he had fucked up.

The first was when he had left without a response on Friday, but he had assumed she would reach out and they would fix things.

The second was the night before the game. There was no facetime, no call, nothing to soothe the amount he was missing her.

The third was when he only got a single text from her during the week he was gone, on Sunday just before the game, and it was only five words. Good luck, I love you.

He had realized immediately how badly he had fucked up. But not for a moment did he want to recognize that.

"You are the biggest asshat I have ever had the displeasure of knowing."

"Jason-"

"Who do you think you are showing up at my front door?" It's Kylie this time, still wiping her hands on a towel from the kitchen but her expression is anything but the image of kind housewife that the rest of her is portraying. "After what you did to Dorthy, you have the audacity to show your face?"

"Ky," Is all he can manage to mumble, every ounce of exhaustion clear in his whole body. "I'm here to fix things, not to fight with you or Jason."

"You shouldn't have left yourself with something to apologize for Trav," Jason is the one to offer as advice, letting him into the entry. "Thea showed up to the house sobbing with an overnight bag on Friday and Ky couldn't even get the reason for your fight out of her until yesterday."

"I fucked up, I know that."

"Your girlfriend told you she was pregnant with your child and you walked out of the house without a word. You more than fucked up Travis," Kylie corrects, the end of her scolding being punctuated with soft giggles from another room.

"What are the girls doing up so late?" Travis asks, knowing the sound of his nieces giggles by heart. "I thought they had a bedtime of 8:30?"

"Dorthy and the girls are making your mom's cookie recipe," Kylie answers, moving her body out of his path to the kitchen, the three adults entering to a sight that would bring smiles to anyones face.

But the sight only made Travis want to cry.

Because there was the love of his life, wearing his sweatshirt with his middle niece on her hip, the new tightness of the sweatshirt and little girl's leg accentuating the woman's baby bump.

How far along did she say she was again?

His oldest niece is beside them on a stool, scooping the cookie batter onto the pan of they all dance around to music.

It's so domestic, and it's something that he and she will have in their futures. If he can fix this.

"Wyatt, Elliotte, come with me to get ready for bed and Auntie will put the cookies in the oven. Daddy and I will even let you come back down to have cookies with Auntie and Uncle when they're done," Kylie promises, the little girls being helped down and hugging their aunts legs, doing the same to their uncles' on the way out of the room, chasing each other up the stairs.

"Jas, come on, give the two a minute," Kylie instructs, tugging on my brother-in-law's arms, a soft smile being shot my way as they leave the room.

And now it's just Trav and I, the man who's presence I hadn't noticed until Ky took the kids.

"Hi," Is the only greeting I can manage, tucking the cookies into the oven for the girls before wrapping my arms around myself.

"How did I not notice this before?" He asks in a response, feet carrying him in long strides over to me. His eyes are trained on my stomach the entire time, until his eyes catch mine, "May I?"

"Trav, you've touched everywhere on my body, I don't know why you're asking now," I mumble, but this just seems to insult him.

"We haven't talked in a week Baby, I don't deserve to touch you, prior or not," He whispers, and I can feel the tears coming to my eyes.

"You can," I approve, his hands meeting my stomach, rounding over his sweatshirt to see the true size of the bump.

"How have I not noticed you were growing our little bean in there?" His tears slipping down his face. "I'm so sorry for walking out. I didn't know how to process the information, but that was no excuse to just walk out. I should have celebrated you, I should have celebrated our baby. And instead I walk out for a fucking football game." He scoffs.

I hate that he's crying. Argument or not. He's apologizing and I just hate that he's upset.

Taking the pads of my thumbs, I rub the tears from his eyes, taking his hands from my sides and into my own.

"Actually, she's about the size of an artichoke these days," I correct, chuckling lightly in an attempt to soften the sadness. "And it's ok. I mean, it's not, it really tore me apart thinking you didn't want our baby, but I should have told you sooner. Just with practice and games and -"

"You're not allowed to apologize when I'm the one who did wrong, Baby," He interrupts, a bright smile breaking out on his lips as he pulls me closer to his body by my hips. "So we're having a little girl?"

"I'm convinced your family can't result in boys," Kylie's voice chimes from the doorway, her and Jason standing wrapped in each other's arms. "I mean, this is four for four on kids that is going to be a girl."

"Speaking of," Travis starts, looking between all of us, "Do the girls know?"

"We're having a baby cousin!!" Wy cheers, bursting into the room with Elliott hot on her tail.

"Does this whole family just eaves drop and bust in?" I can't help but question, because this is just wild.

"We do, you should be used to this Kid," Jason confirms, Wyatt and Elliott joining Trav and I in a little hug.

"You girls know about your little cousin?" Trav asks, smiling as he crouches next to the two.

Ellie just nods, but it's her sister who answers.

"Yeah, Daddy said it will make Grammy love you more."

"That's it, I'm calling Mom!"

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

WIP “Wednesday”

Thanks to @fractured-shield here, @honeybewrites here, @mundanemoongirl here, @bookish-karina here, @diabolical-blue here, and @mysticstarlightduck here!

Rules: post something about your WIP!

Was gonna wait for Wednesday but I am impatient.

Decided it would be fun if I compared the Going Into the Portal scene from each Draft of TSP so far!

All of these are in Lexi's POV (or Alexia, before she got her nickname)

Draft One (2013):

The beautiful blanket of May flowers stretched out all the way… to my house. <3 I sighed. Nothing was better than… “AAAHHH!!!” I whirled around. Aurora had disappeared! I moved the grass where she had been standing. A rock. A metal rock? I stood up, confused. I put my bag down, next to Aurora’s (which she probably dropped) and felt the rock with my hand. “AAAHHH!!!” I screamed. EVERYTHING WENT BLACK

Draft Two (2014):

I stared in the place that I was pretty sure Aurora was standing. I stared at the backpack. I was pretty sure that it was hers. I looked at the name plate. Yup. Her handwriting. Aurora Austin Where was my friend?!?!?! I looked all around. Nothing. The only place I hadn’t looked was the ground. Why would she be in the ground? I have no idea. But it’s worth a try. I moved the grass. The only thing I saw was a rock. As I looked closer, the rock seemed to be metal. I crawled a little closer. It still looked metal. I reached out to touch it when…. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I was falling through nothingness. All I saw was a bunch of rainbows swirling around me. I kept falling and screaming. Then everything went black.

Draft Three (2015-16 I don't remember):

I stared at the spot where Aurora was standing. The rock was still there, and a few feet away was her backpack, but Aurora herself was nowhere to be found. I set down my backpack and violin and crept forward. I looked at the rock. It looked metal. I got out my metal detector just to check. Yup! Definitely metal. Then I thought of a crazy thought. What if the rock was a portal? I knew it was impossible, but it was the only explanation to why Aurora disappeared. If it was a portal, what was on the other end? Air? No air? Well, whatever was behind it, I knew I had to go. Aurora was in danger. Possibly. Actually, I don’t know. It might be Band Land over there with all the boys you can crush on. I slowly crawled away from the portal and shuddered at that thought. Band Land would be anyone who wasn’t in band’s nightmare. Band is just noise to me, so Band Land must be torture. I shook the thought away. That was a stupid thought. Maybe this was a dream. Well, usually in dreams you don’t think they are dreams, but I actually did have a dream inside a dream, and I knew I was dreaming then, but in the dream, the edges around my vision were a little foggy, and I could see perfectly fine here. Well, except for the fact I wear glasses. Without them, I can’t see worth crap. I crawled back to the rock. Last year, we learned metals rusted after rain. And it was super rainy this year. So, why was it shiny? This was frying my pour brain. Despite whatever was behind there, there was still a chance Aurora could be in trouble. Without thinking, I reached out my hand and touched the rock.

Draft Four (2017* probably edited a bit though):

I waited for Ash to answer, but she was silent. “Ash?” I asked, making sure she was okay. I turned around, about to say something based on her reaction, but she wasn’t there. “Ash?” I said, standing up. I looked around in all directions, but there was no sign of Ash. “Ash!?” I said louder. Still no response. “ASHLEY!” No answer. I fell on the soft, green grass and tried to hold back the tears, as I often did if I were stressed and felt lost, not a clue what to do. I had no idea what was happening, and frankly, wasn't even sure it was happening. I fell on my back to contemplate what happened when I hit something hard with my head. I cried out in pain, and shot up, rubbing the back of my neck. I turned to see what I hit, and jumped when I saw millions of colors shoot up from the ground and wrap around me. I looked around and watched the endless field disappear around me. I must’ve hit my head hard. I looked down at the ground and watched as the colors started to erase the grass around me. “Oh, sh—” The ground disappeared completely and I fell through a tunnel of millions of colors. I never knew there were so many in the world. I would’ve been in awe if it weren’t for the fact that I was falling to my death. I ended up spinning around somehow, which caused me to fall headfirst down the tunnel. At the end, I saw a bright white light. Was it Heaven? Was I dead? The light became bigger and brighter and whiter as I fell closer, and closer, and closer. Soon I landed in the light, and I felt it enclose around me, sucking me up in its brightness. I felt content, safe, and warm in the light. But then I felt a cold wind at my feet. I felt cold air-like ropes tie themselves around my ankles. I was suddenly yanked down. Then everything went black.

Draft Five (2021):

“What the—” “Ash?” I asked at her sudden exclamation. “You okay?” I turned to make sure she was but jumped when she wasn’t there. Just her backpack. “Ash?” I said, standing abruptly. I looked around in all directions. “Ash?!” I said louder. No response. I wrung my hands through my hair, my eyes burning, as they did when stressed. I had no idea what was happening, and frankly, if whatever was happening even was happening. I had to be dreaming. This didn’t make any sense otherwise. I tried to sit on the grass to contemplate everything when I hit something hard. I cried out in pain and shot up, rubbing the now-sore spot—feeling awkward even though no one was around. I turned to see what I hit and jumped when I saw millions of colors shoot up from the ground. I looked around and watched the endless field disappear from view. I must’ve hit my head on the concrete. Yes, that made sense. A sudden panic of long-term injury caused me to reach up to touch my head. I didn’t feel any sign of injury, but that didn’t mean anything. Maybe I was hallucinating the lack of injury. My breath quickened as the colors around me grew bigger and more vibrant. I looked down at the ground and watched as the colors erased the grass. “Oh, shit!” The ground disappeared and I fell through a tunnel of millions of colors I never knew existed. Is this what it’s like to have more photoreceptors? Is this how shrimp see? I would’ve been in awe if I wasn't falling to my death. The air whipped around me—my braids disconnected where I’d tied them in the back, causing my looser hair to partially obstruct my vision. A bright light forced my eyes shut, the inside of my eyelids red. I felt warm and safe around it, but it was too bright for my taste. Without warning, I hit the ground on my feet, stumbled, and fell on grass again.

Tagging @avrablake @elsie-writes @winterandwords @eccaiia @ceph-the-ghost-writer

+ ANYONE ELSE

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy

[average-mako-enjoyer]

N7 Month 2024: Day 2 - Reflection

Characters: Padok Wilks, Lieutenant Tolan, Urdnot Bakara Words: 908 Summary: The aftermath of Mordin's loyalty mission aka Salarian team that came to do the clean up finds the sealed lab with the fertile krogan on Tuchanka. Perhaps I should add a more optimistic ending to this one.

*** "Did they touch anything?" Padok asks.

"As far as I know, sir, they didn't." The shuttle shakes, and Padok's escort has to grab the railing to keep himself from falling. "But I wouldn't rule out the possibility of contamination. The agents who broke into the bunker aren't exactly in the habit of being… sensitive."

"I see."

Padoc turns to the porthole and catches his own reflection. His lips twitch in irritation. He hates unprofessionalism.

The moment Padok's feet hit the ground, he is immediately surrounded by barely organized chaos. The landing pad is swarming with agents busy loading heavy equipment into the open shuttles, someone is shouting orders in a high, already strained voice, and from somewhere in the periphery comes the unmistakable crack of assault rifles. "Doctor Wilks? Doctor Wilks?" Out of the crowd, barely avoiding a collision with the swaying loading platform that moves across his path, a nimble-looking agent runs toward them. Padok raises his arm. "That's me." "Lieutenant Guran Tolan, I'm in charge here. We've been expecting you, follow me." He immediately gets into motion again, and Padok and his escort have to follow. "What is the situation?" Padok asks. "There are nine subjects. Five are dead and in active decomposition; we believe Heplorn removed them from the clean area himself. Others – my people just found them, and we immediately resealed the area. We have no data on their condition."

"But your people entered the lab, correct?" Tolan gives him a quick look. "We wouldn't have found them otherwise." "I see." Padok clicks his tongue and closes his eyes against the howling wind, which keeps throwing dust in his face. "And what's with the shooting?" "Varren." The agent makes a disgusted noise. "The whole area is crawling with them. We cleared it out for the most part, but some of them are still coming." "Varren? Heplorn probably used them for tests," Padok has to jump over the piece of rusted armature sticking straight out of the ground. "I want them all killed and packed up, Lieutenant." "With all due respect, Doctor, I think you're mistaken. These krogan were probably just breeding them here." Tolan pauses. "Animals that breed other animals… Ironic, don't you think?" Padok's escort lets out a chuckle.

"I still want them packed up," Padok insists. "If Heplorn ever used them in an experiment, we need to know. We don't want a crude version of the genophage cure developing in the varren population, do we?" Tolan stops and turns to him. Padok must have hit a nerve, because he looks pissed. "We don't." "Good to know we're on the same page." Padok nods. "We cannot fail on this mission, Tolan. The fate of our race is at stake." "I am aware."

When they finally reach the building, Padok is immediately greeted with the sight of the already installed acid dispensers and the stacked body bags.

He counts. Thirty two. Not all are krogan. "Your people's work?" he asks. "No. This is from another group. They cleared the building ahead of us." "Another group? Did they enter the lab?" "As far as we know, no." Tolan makes a small irritated chirp. "They cleared the building, alerted us, and left." "Interesting…" "All the bodies have already been checked. None of the krogan are female. The cleanup team will start on them in a few hours." "What about the smaller ones? Humans? They can be test subjects." "No. Vorcha. Let's move on."

The building Heplorn has chosen to house his lab is a maze of long corridors, rooms with fallen walls leading to other rooms and more corridors, and at first Padok wonders how Tolan can find his way around, but after the third round Padok realizes that he is just following the blood splatter. Whoever cleared this place before the STG was very thorough, and Padok can respect that. But then the blood splatter stops and Tolan makes an unexpected turn that leads them to a long staircase.

"Watch your step, Doctor," he warns, and they begin to descend.

After the first flight, Padok notices voices coming from below. People talking, laughing, and apparently polluting the area. Another flight and he sees them lined up in front of the large glass wall that separates the clean area from the rest of the building.

"Attention, men!" Tolan shouts, causing some of them to jump. Then he turns to Padok. "Please, Doctor. The area is yours."

Padok walks past him, straight to the glass.

Behind it is a brightly lit room with two rows of hospital beds. The subject lying on the nearest one is obviously female: too large to be a male. She doesn't move.

'Dead?' Padok thinks.

His gaze moves further, and then he realizes what Tolan's men were staring at, what made them laugh and point fingers. In the far corner of the room, three female subjects are huddling together. Two of them are clinging to each other while the one, the tallest, tries her best to stand in front of them and cover them with her body. She's the only one looking at the glass.

Padok leans forward and their eyes meet. The female narrows her eyes and her throat quivers with an inaudible growl. Amazing.

"We need a decontamination area, clean suits and sedatives, Tolan," he says. "The sooner the better."

He steps back from the glass and catches his own reflection in it. His inner eyelids flutter. He feels... excited.

[heyitsjustmoi]

First in Bag End

The path had led him through the green, rolling hills of the Shire, with its freshly tilled earth, gardens teeming with life, and flower boxes brimming from windowsills. He took it all in, but found it difficult to describe the peace and tranquility of this land—an unfamiliar feeling for one who had seen much strife.

He had never heard of the Shire, not by name nor by reputation, and upon his arrival, the lush landscape overwhelmed him. It was unexpected, this calm, this peacefulness—a far cry from the dark and sorrowful halls of the Blue Mountains.

A small, elderly hobbit, burdened by a sack of rice, stumbled near him. Thorin reached out instinctively, steadying the sack with ease.

"Thank ye, laddie!" the hobbit exclaimed, his weathered face lighting up with gratitude.

Thorin held the sack a moment longer. "Where shall I take this for you?" His voice held a quiet uncertainty, for his garb and stature drew the eyes of curious onlookers. He was an outsider here, and the gaze of the Shirefolk upon him felt both curious and judgmental.

"Oh, there's no need, none at all! I can manage from here," the old hobbit replied, tipping his hat in thanks before reclaiming the sack with a slight bow.

With a sigh, Thorin breathed in the fresh air. Gandalf said I would know Bag End when I saw it, he mused, his eyes drifting to the peculiar homes of the hobbits—each one built under the hills, their round doors set like jewels in the earth. It amused him to think of the dirt that must settle within, though the people themselves appeared anything but unkempt.

One door in particular caught his attention: a perfectly round green door with a brass knob set squarely in its center. He paused momentarily before moving on, continuing his search through the village. His feet carried him toward the market, where laughter and lighthearted chatter filled the air. The spirits of the Shirefolk were infectious, and Thorin felt a flicker of something he had long since buried—hope.

Amidst the market's bustling energy, a voice caught his ear. "Now, I don't suppose you've seen a Wizard lurking about?" The voice was that of a finely dressed hobbit, polished and perhaps a touch arrogant in his manner.

"A tall fellow? Long, gray beard? Pointy hat?" the farmer replied, shaking his head. "Can't say I have."

Before the conversation could unfold further, the hobbit rushed off, leaving Thorin to ponder. A Wizard… Could this be the one Gandalf mentioned? He followed the hobbit at a distance, careful to remain unnoticed, for he had no desire to make a poor impression on the fourteenth member of their company.

Soon, Thorin found himself standing before the same round green door he had passed earlier. As he examined it closely, he noticed a symbol etched discreetly upon its surface. He nearly groaned aloud—he had walked right by the very place he sought. So much for my directional sense.

He watched as the hobbit entered the house, and Thorin, unsure of his next move, sat quietly on a small bench nearby. For a moment, he allowed himself to breathe in the stillness, the tranquility of this place. A fleeting thought crossed his mind—could he one day live in such peace? Perhaps, when Erebor was reclaimed and his crown secured, he might retire to a small home here, far from the weight of the throne. The idea brought a rare smile to his face.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the Shire, Thorin rose and approached the door. He knocked firmly, and after a moment, it creaked open to reveal a hobbit, staring up at him with wide, startled eyes.

"Uh—who—"

"Thorin Oakenshield," he introduced himself with a small nod. "And you must be the hobbit."

The hobbit blinked in confusion. "Hobbit? Well, yes, I am indeed a hobbit, but... do we know each other?"

"Not yet," Thorin replied with a faint smirk. "You haven’t given me your name."

"Ah, yes! Bilbo Baggins," the hobbit replied, offering his hand hesitantly. Thorin took it, his grip firm.

"Now we know each other," Thorin said. "May I come in?"

Bilbo stepped aside, still clearly flustered. "Well, I suppose so, though I must apologize—I’m not expecting any visitors, and my dinner preparations—"

Thorin stepped inside, shedding his cloak and handing it to Bilbo. The hobbit took it, unsure of where to place it, before hanging it on a nearby peg. Thorin surveyed the hobbit-hole, his first impression upended. Despite being under a hill, the walls were not earthy, but lined with polished wood, the air warm and inviting. It felt... homely.

"You have a fine home, Master Baggins," Thorin said, genuinely pleased.

Bilbo, still a bit taken aback, smiled faintly. "Thank you."

"Where’s your kitchen? I might lend a hand."

Bilbo hurried after him, protesting. "No, no, you’re a guest—uninvited, perhaps, but still a guest!"

Thorin ignored the remark, already inspecting the small kitchen. "You’ll want to prepare more than this, Master Baggins. There will be more guests later this night."

Bilbo’s eyebrows shot up, his voice rising in pitch. “More guests? Who—? Wait! Wait! That’s the pantry!”

Thorin, undeterred, had already begun rummaging through the pantry, pulling out supplies with the practiced ease of a man accustomed to hard work. “Bombur alone could devour half this larder, so you might want to prepare more than this block of cheese.” He placed items on the table. “I’m no master chef, but I can manage slicing and dicing.”

Bilbo stood frozen for a moment, mouth agape, before throwing his hands up in resignation. “Fine! Fine! I suppose you're right.” With a deep breath, he took charge of his kitchen once more, pointing Thorin toward a cutting board and handing him a knife. “Slice these vegetables—thinly, mind you—and mind the pots while I prepare the bread.”

Thorin obeyed, a rare smile playing at the edges of his lips. There was something oddly pleasant about the hobbit’s kitchen, about Bilbo himself, in fact. For the first time in years, Thorin felt the weight on his shoulders lift, if only for a fleeting moment. He worked with surprising ease, the rhythm of the kitchen a welcome distraction from darker thoughts of dragons and distant mountains.

As they worked, Bilbo’s flustered chatter filled the room, though Thorin found it rather amusing.

“What is this even about?” Bilbo finally asked, stirring one of the simmering pots. “I’m preparing a meal for a gathering I know nothing of, and for strangers, no less! Forgive me, but I barely know you, Mister Oakenshield!”

Thorin chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I take it Gandalf neglected to inform you.”

“Gandalf?” Bilbo exclaimed, nearly spilling the soup. “That old wizard! He did say something about an ‘adventure’ this morning, which I very clearly declined.”

“Declined?” Thorin’s brow arched in surprise.

“Yes, declined! I don’t imagine anyone west of Bree has much use for adventures. Certainly not me! Do I look like the sort to go gallivanting off into danger?”

Thorin looked him over appraisingly, eyes twinkling with mirth. “No, if I’m being honest, you look more like a grocer.”

“Well, that wasn’t very nice,” Bilbo muttered, though he couldn’t quite hide the smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t look like a grocer! I could be an adventurer if I wished. Did you know that my great-great-great-great-uncle Bullroarer Took was so large, he could ride a real horse?”

“Is that so?” Thorin indulged him.

“Yes! In the Battle of Green Fields, he charged the goblin ranks, swinging his club with such might that he knocked the Goblin-king’s head clean off! It sailed a hundred yards and landed down a rabbit hole, and thus the battle was won, and the game of golf invented at the same time!”

Bilbo’s pride in the tale was evident, and Thorin couldn’t help but smile, amused by the hobbit’s sudden enthusiasm for adventure—despite his earlier protests.

“Here, taste this,” Bilbo said, interrupting Thorin’s thoughts as he offered a spoonful of the soup.

Thorin leaned in, tasting the broth, and hummed appreciatively. “That is fine soup, Master Baggins.”

“Family recipe,” Bilbo said, clearly pleased with himself.

As the preparations continued, Bilbo busied himself with more tales, and Thorin, to his own surprise, found that he enjoyed listening. It was peaceful, listening to the hobbit’s stories of a life so far removed from his own. Here in this little kitchen, with the warmth of the fire and the simple task of preparing a meal, Thorin felt a rare contentment.

At last, when the table was set and the food prepared, Thorin turned to Bilbo, his tone more serious. “Master Baggins,” he began, startling the hobbit from his task, “I would tell you my story now.”

Bilbo blinked, then nodded, taking a seat as Thorin gestured for him to do so. Thorin sat opposite him, the flickering firelight casting long shadows across the room.

With a deep breath, Thorin recounted the tale of Erebor—of the dragon Smaug, of the desolation wrought upon his people, and of the long, bitter years spent in exile. As he spoke, he watched Bilbo’s face change, amusement giving way to concern, and finally, fear. He couldn’t fault the hobbit for his reaction; it was a story filled with loss and peril.

“I cannot guarantee your safety,” Thorin admitted solemnly, his voice low. “Nor will I be responsible for your fate. But if you are to be what Gandalf believes you can be, we will need your help to reclaim what was stolen from us—our home.”

For a long moment, Bilbo was silent, his small frame hunched under an invisible weight. Thorin could almost see the thoughts turning in his head, the quiet struggle within him. Though they had only just met, Thorin found himself liking the hobbit. He was unsure yet whether he could trust him fully, but if they had met under different circumstances, Thorin thought he might have enjoyed getting to know Bilbo better. Perhaps, in time, they could even have been friends.

“I—I don’t know,” Bilbo stammered at last, his voice shaky. “I’ve never left this place, not once.”

Thorin nodded, thoughtful. He understood the appeal of the Shire, its charm, its tranquility. He even envied it. For all his efforts to make the Blue Mountains his home, they had never truly felt like one. And though Erebor was his birthright, the truth was he no longer knew if it would ever feel like home again.

“At least hear the others out when they arrive,” Thorin said, offering a small smile. “I will not hold you to anything if you choose to decline.”

When Bilbo remained silent, Thorin found himself continuing, his voice tinged with a longing he didn’t quite understand. "But in other circumstances, Master Baggins, I would love nothing more than to sit here, share a cup of tea, and listen to your tales for hours on end.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, the doorbell rang. Both hobbit and dwarf turned to the door.

“They’re here,” Thorin said, standing from the table. He crossed the room and opened the door to greet his company, his expression turning more serious.

As the others filed in, filling the quiet of the place with noise and movement, Thorin found himself wishing for a little more time—just a bit longer with Bilbo, in the peace of his home. But the road ahead called him, with all its dangers and responsibilities. Such peace, he knew, was too much to hope for.

---

So this was inspired by my own musing. Once I have more ideas, I'll probably turn this one into multiple chapters. But for now, I hope you enjoyed this one! ---

Now posted in ao3 as well! xoxo

[cielosuerte]

btw speaking of periods. here's a couple tips if nobody's told you — and these r just my personal experience of what worked for me, so take with a grain of salt! also just to say it from the jump i hope at least some of this could help a trans woman experiencing periods <3

Caffeine can help with cramps & (some) headaches. Even if it doesn't help you feel more awake or affect you in the typical way for whatever reason, it still helps with the cramps! If you don't like caffeinated beverages, midol or excedrin are both painkiller brands (acetimenophen i believe in both) that have caffeine in the pills as well, so you can take those to help without having to drink coffee or tea etc.

Heating pads or an electric blanket will change your life, but they can be expensive. You can make your own microwaveable heating pad with thick fabric and dried beans for much cheaper, just look up a diy guide to make sure you don't blow up your kitchen in a beancident (tone tag: silly!! very unlikely you can explode your kitchen, but you should still handle it carefully and not microwave it too long). If you don't want to or can't buy a heating pad/hot water bottle/make a heat plush, you can buy those little handwarmer bags at convenience stores (especially in the colder months). They're air activated and not all too expensive and last a while. I would take two or three and put them in a pillowcase and fold it up so i could lay it on my stomach like a heating pad without it directly touching my skin - since that can burn you.

Even if you don't experience bleeding, i would still recommend drinking a lot of water especially if you're like me and can barely get through a 16oz water bottle over two days (i'm working on it shh). It just is really good for you & again, can help with cramps, headaches, fatigue, and tbh even emotional symptoms.

You may not feel like eating anything when ur on ur period and i get it, i really do, but u gotta eat still bc it will make it all so much worse if you're on ur period AND hangry. that said, if you have any food sensitivities i would take extra care to avoid them during ur period bc you don't need to feel bloated and sick from your period And from eating lunch. it's horrid & i would sometimes end up playing myself like this right before a 6-8 hour shift on my feet and talking the whole day (i'm a teacher so i also would have to be explaining things and yknow, teaching without collapsing face first bc stomach ache).

As far as food goes, here's what worked for me: eating the same amount of food i normally do, but instead of 3 big meals and a snack or two (eating every 4 hours or so) i'd take my food amount and spread it out to turn it into a kind of constant nibbling the whole day (so finishing eating something every hour or two). i have stomach issues as-is so this helped prevent nausea and bloating, and also helped my energy stay consistent especially if i mixed it with drinking a lot of water and juice. personally it might be worth it to avoid super heavy/dense foods and invest in easy to make and simpler foods. like, protein bars, fruit strips, fresh fruit (apple slices and peanut butter <3) and veggies (carrots glazed in honey or roasted brussel sprouts are more delicious and easier to make than you think!). also, as much as you can, listen to what your body wants to eat. if ur craving chocolate, eat that. bc it's better to eat and feel good abt what you're eating than either not eating or feeling worse than you already do by forcing urself to eat stuff you don't want.

Last thing about food sorry it's just that eating is so important: If you have a good idea of when you get your period or when the worst symptoms are, try meal prepping the week before. nothing huge and complicated. you can straight up just make like six PB&Js and keep em in the fridge. if you have the energy to cook something you can have as leftovers, awesome! (one of my go to meals was boiling frozen pork & leek dumplings in chicken broth i made from store bought concentrate. took like 15 mins and i could sit by the warm stove and just watch it cook and then pour it in a thermos and then go lay face down somewhere. and it had salt, protein, carbs, veggie, just a great meal. and it being hot helped with cramps plus it was super light on my stomach!!)

Hate to say it but exercise helped so much with making periods manageable. If you can, try taking a 15 min walk each day. at the very least do some stretches within ur ability and comfort to help with general joint pain and keeping your body from feeling "creaky".

I love u please take care of yourself 🤍

[willows-adventures-in-words]

I've posted the second half of this scene previously as a 'first draft'; but now it's been edited and changed a bit. This is where the main part of the story starts. Well, technically it starts a little sooner than this, but that bit isn't written yet. And I don't have the actual beginning of it done either. To be honest, the main reason I'm posting this is because I'll be posting the following scene tomorrow as the first prompt for Whumptober.

I've just been calling this story 'the abilities story' since I can't come up with titles to save my life. word count: 1216

~-~-~

“Just don't go far,” Kathy called. There were verbal responses called back, though they too muffled and she wasn't able to hear what they were. They also gave something visual, knowing she likely wouldn't be able to hear them. Geoff touched her arm to get her attention. He told her, from what she could understand, that he was going to step away. Back in the opposite direction of the escalator leading to the entrance. He'd be back soon. “Okay.”

Though Geoff hesitated. He wasn't as fond of the idea of them splitting up as the others were, even if they weren't leaving the building. More so, with leaving Kathy here. Sure, he wasn't going far. And he was going to be within earshot in case she needed him. But... Kathy took his hand and smiled up at him. “I will be right here.” And he loved and trusted his wife to no end. He told her, again, that he would be back soon. She nodded and he stepped away, turned and started in the other direction. Just before he stepped out of view, he turned and looked back to see her watching him. Geoff smiled as he lifted his hands and made a heart-shape out of them. Kathy laughed. Hearing her laugh alleviated some of the tension that's been building since this started. Then finally, he stepped out of her view.

Kathy stepped back over to where they'd set down their emergency duffel. Zipping it open, she went through the contents. Blanket, a simple med kit, a few bottles of water, trail mix and a few other food options that wouldn't expire quickly; that was all useful given their circumstance. The rest she wasn't so sure about. Still, she was happy that she and Geoff decided to put an emergency bag in their car to begin with. Though she never expected that it was something they would ever have to use.

She broke open the flashlight package. Kathy remembered the flashlight and batteries were an on the whim addition to the bag just a few months ago. They'd debated it for a bit because, why need a flashlight when you have a light on your phone? But they concluded in the end that if their phone was dead, they couldn't use the light on it anyway. It's why they packed a charger. So, the flashlight was added. She broke the packaging on the batteries. Now was probably a good time to make sure the flashlight worked. After inserting the batteries and screwing the top back on, she pushed the switch to on. The light flickered for a second before the beam stayed on. Kathy sighed, relieved. She switched it back off. Best preserve the batteries seeing as they will probably need it, since it looked like it was going to be dark out soon.

After repacking the bag, Kathy got up and walked around the area a little. She wasn't going to deny that she was a little anxious. Things got hectic pretty quick since no one knew what happened. Why the power went out. And why all electronics stopped working, including their cars and unfortunately her hearing aids.

She let out a breath hoping it would help calm her nerves before she turned to head back to their bag, only to jump at the appearance of an unknown man. He was about a dozen feet away. Kathy saw his lips move but couldn't focus on what he was saying. She was more concerned about the fact he was carrying a baseball bat. “I-I'm sorry. I can't-” she stopped as he started to approach her. Backing away she quickly tried to think of what to do. She could try to get past him. Probably grab the duffel if she had time and find Geoff. Kathy glanced to where the bag was. Might not be able to grab it, but she had to get away and was running out of time to go.

Quickly, she tried to run but didn't make it far before the man grabbed her wrist and yanked her back right into one of the pillars. “Geo-!” She tried to yell but was cut off as he covered her mouth with his hand. He lifted his bat in his other hand and threatened her with it. She didn't need to read lips to understand that. Geoff said he wasn't going far. He had to have heard her.

“Hey! Get away from her!” The man turned slightly to see Geoff as he hurried towards them. With his distraction Kathy kicked him in the legs throwing him off balance and ran back to where their bag was. The assailant went after her. With a few long strides Geoff intercepted him. “I said leave her alone,” he growled, rage boiling below the surface. The man stiffened for a second before lifting the bat he was carrying and took a swing at him. The bat brushed against his shirt as he barely moved back in time. Before the man could pull back for another swing, Geoff ripped the bat from his hands, causing the man to stagger, and tossed it to the floor. Grabbing his arm, Geoff forced him back upright before he shoved the man backward against the pillar he'd had Kathy pinned against a moment ago.

Cesar started up the steps to the second floor where Geoff and Kathy waited. He was halfway up when he heard anger in Geoff's voice and picked up his pace. He turned his head to see the scene unfold. His eyes widened and ran up the last couple steps. Geoff stalked towards the man slumped against one of the pillars. “Geoff!” Geoff spun to face him. Despite the distance between them, Cesar could see the fire in his eyes. He jerked to a halt, giving it a second to process. What looked like literal fire reflected in his eyes. Not a play off of the lighting. “Hey, it's just me. We're good.” And just like that it was gone.

Geoff turned back to Kathy. She stared, wide-eyed, hands to her mouth. He looked back to the man. The cracks in the pillar. The dusting of drywall that flaked off on top of him. The-

“Come on. We gotta go.” Cesar told them, tapping a hand on Geoff's shoulder as he hurried past. “We gotta go.” He ran to check on Kathy, who nodded when asked if she was okay, before scooping up the duffel bag and turning back to Geoff who hadn't really moved from where he'd left him. Cesar moved back to his friend. “Hey. Geoff.” He spoke quieter this time, which seemed to get through to him. “We really gotta go. We can't stay here. Come on.” Cesar rested a hand on the back of his shoulder and directed him towards where Kathy waited by the downed escalator. Once Geoff started over to his wife, Cesar grabbed the bat on the floor and, with one last glance at the man at the foot of the pillar, ran after his friends. Cesar knew he wouldn't be forgetting the image of the man slumped, dead, with his shirt and skin scorched with the imprints of Geoff's hands.

~-~-~

the next scene is here!

[itfitsitshipsart]

Till Death Due Us Part

Part 2

Pairing: Evelyn (s/i)/Albert Wesker

Word count: 835

Warnings: swearing, needles

Nearing the end of RE5's story, they board a tankard ship to complete their plans for the future.

--

Evelyn sat with a laptop, her back against the railing of the docking to the massive tankard behind her. Her bag slumped beside her, she tapped away at the device, and looked up only at the sound of footsteps. Even with the golden light of evening obscuring her vision, Evelyn frowned, the silhouette and saunter all too familiar.

“Where's Albert?” She asked the woman who walked up to her, who proceeded to put a hand on her hip and glare down at the blond.

“You're not worried about him, are you?” She questioned. “I figured you'd have more faith in Albert, or that he’d tell you things-”

“Don't play this game Excella.” Evelyn retorted bluntly, flashing a glare up to her. Excella sighed, muttering under her breath for a moment.

“He's having a reunion of sorts.” She finally responded. “That Chris man.”

“Ah,”

“‘Ah'? So you understand now?”

“Of course I do. Unlike you, I know their history.” Evelyn quickly typed at her keyboard, then closed the device and slid it into her bag. Standing up, she looked at the large tankard boat. “He needs to be here within a minute,”

“And here I am.” Albert quickly strode his way towards the women. “Is everything ready?”

“As far as I can tell.” Evelyn smiled sweetly at him, shifting closer as he rested a large hand on the small of her back. “There's just one. Last. Thing to tie up.”

Excella furrowed her brow, looking at Evelyn with a confused expression as she glanced back at her with cold eyes, her smile still on her face.

“That we can deal with on the ship.” Albert stated dryly, and led Evelyn onto the boat, Excella trailing closely behind. “Excella, go below deck and prepare some more serum for me, would you? Best to have enough ready for the next few days.”

“Alright.” She nodded, “I understand you need me to get it, being necessary for your well being. I'll meet you on deck 5 then, yes?”

“Yes.”

***

“That bitch is taking too long.” Evelyn muttered, sitting beside Albert, leaning comfortably against him. She flicked through the camera feeds on her laptop. “And Chris isn't too far behind.”

“My, I don't think I've ever seen you impatient to have her here,” Albert remarked.

“You know how I feel about her.” Evelyn huffed, and put away the device to stand. As she rose to her feet, Albert wrapped his arms around her, drawing her tightly against him.

“I know. And soon my dear. Soon everything will change.” He nuzzled the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair deeply.

Excella panted, having just run all the way up to the deck, half of the serum lost due to the meetup with Chris. She frowned, watching the tender moment between the two of them.

“And that last loose end now?” Excella questioned, sick of watching the two in front of her in silence. “Is the Uroboros project not complete?”

“It's ready, but this matter is just a small thing, a trifle, really.” Slowly, Albert pulled away from Evelyn, stepping towards her. “See, this is about… Us.”

“Us?” Her brow raised, and she flickered a triumphant grin towards Evelyn. “What about us?” He rested a gloved hand on her cheek, and she leaned into his touch. Slowly, he gripped her face and walked around behind her. And suddenly, with his other hand, he twisted her arm. Excella let out a shocked cry, the almost gentle caress turned harsh as he held her painfully still.

“About us,” he muttered, his red eyes behind his shades glowing. “It would never work out. It's true I need someone to rule with me in this new age, but it's not you. You've reached the end of your usefulness, Excella.”

Excella's eyes widened, watching Evelyn draw a vial and needle from her bag. She tried to move, to pull away from Albert, but he held her fast.

“I've been waiting for this,” Evelyn muttered, readying the injection and walking over. “Let's see how Uroboros takes to you, shall we? I have my doubts this will end well for you, though.”

“No, why do this to me?!” Excella strained to look at Albert. “I've done nothing but help you, Albert. I've shown you my loyalty. I-” her breath hitched, the needle digging into her neck. 

“And now you can show me your loyalty one last time.” Albert released her, roughly tossing her to the side as he strode back over to Evelyn. “Unless of course, Uroboros doesn't kill you, and you dispose of Chris. There may be something I could use you for then.”

“Albert…” Excella groaned, pain radiating quickly from her neck through her body. He scoffed, and put an arm gently around Evelyn once more.

“Let's observe from a safer place, shall we, my dear?”

“Of course,” Evelyn smiled, turning with him and walking off. The last Excella saw of them was Albert scooping Evelyn up into his arms, disappearing from her view.

[hopeamarsu]

See You

Joel Miller x gn!reader (sort of, maybe)

Word count 1,3k

Warnings: Death, life in the QZ, funeral pyre, general gloominess

A/N: I do not know what this is, but I knew I had to get it out. It's also been months since I last touched anything in my writing folder, so I'm a little rusty. So there will be mistakes, and there will probably be inconsistencies but I don't mind.

You see enough death at your job, so you really shouldn’t be here. But you can’t help yourself; the image of the dead girl - no more than ten years of age - sitting tied up in the chair hasn’t left you since the body left the FEDRA reception center.

Execution center, your traitorous mind hisses, but you shake it off quickly. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there and people do what they can to ensure survival. Life in the QZ zone is harsh and oftentimes brutal, but it’s sometimes necessary to be cruel. It’s done for the people still fighting and alive. 

At least that’s what FEDRA tells you and you’d never question it or their harsh, unjust actions out loud. You value your own life more. And in some twisted way, you do understand the theory behind all this, your own need for survival thrumming in your veins.  

These are the days though when you hate your job and the nightmares it gives you, even if the extra ration cards you take home will ensure you can at least eat well most nights. It’s almost not worth it, shifting through a dead person’s belongings and making sure they are transported to the burning pits. 

Seeing their final moments, smelling their decay and desperation, and having to touch their clammy skin in order to be thorough in the search for any valuables left behind takes a chunk out of your own fractured soul every time it happens. 

If you even have any soul left to fracture that is. 

The scent and sight of death linger on you, in you even after you leave the premises. You can never get rid of it, no matter how hard you try. You can try to drink it away, but it lingers and wraps around your throat at night. 

On the hardest of days, those extra ration cards and the dinners remain unused and uneaten.  

It falls to you to strip the dead of their humanity, your final task of placing the bag over their heads to preserve anonymity and it weighs you down. With the FEDRA people hovering nervously around you, ready to attack like rabid dogs at the first sign of the dead not being dead enough, doesn’t allow you much time to grieve or show mercy, but you do what you can. 

You close their eyes gently and smooth out any hair tangled on sweaty foreheads and you send a silent wish to the deities still out there to allow for the poor souls some rest before slipping the cloth over their features. It’s what you can do before you are more or less pushed aside for the transport guys to take over. Your work done, a slim stack of ration cards in your pockets, you are dismissed unceremoniously. 

You don’t normally walk home this way, but today your feet carry you over to the edge of the pits. Your face is shrouded by a cloth to avoid smoke inhalation but your eyes remain open and alert. You watch the people shovel the dirt and ash around the flames, feeling the heat even from a distance away. This is gruesome work and while you hate your own job, it’s at least somewhat clean and silent. Small mercy that. 

The tires of the truck crunch on the gravel and you see two people walk toward it. A screech of metal pierces the air as the back is wrenched open and you feel your knuckles tighten. 

This is it, this is her next. The poor little girl born into a world too cruel and lost her life when it should’ve only been at the beginning. You have to fight to keep your eyes open, the tears burning you from the inside, but you cannot let a moment slip by. You’ve come this far, you have to watch it until the bitter end. 

The woman next to the man backs away from the truck and you know exactly why she does it. The size of the sneakers is devastating. She disappears somewhere but you don’t follow her movements, too focused on the truck and the body laying in the bed. The man turns and you see him carry the dead girl in his arms. Your knees buckle at the lonely sight of the one-man funeral team.  

His face doesn’t change, he doesn’t twitch or show any remorse when he drops the body unceremoniously into the flames. He looks past the fire, resigned to his fate. The vacant look on his face signals he’s done this too many times to count and has lost any hope in humanity. It’s both chilling and sad to witness. 

It takes you far longer than it should to recognize the set of shoulders and large frame trimming down to a narrow waist. But then it clicks in your head and his expression makes perfect sense. 

Joel Miller. 

There are numerous whispers of him, hushed and hurried words spoken in the darkest corners of the QZ. The whispers have fear, awe, and lust in them, depending on the person speaking, but they all hold the same information.

They tell the story that he is more a machine than a man, void of emotions and immune to everything. Nothing phases him, nothing touches him. Every bad deed aimed in his direction rolls off him like water on stone. He can make things appear and disappear in places they shouldn’t. His name is respected and feared at the same time, spoken alone or together with another name that garners the same reaction. But he’s alone now, the woman known only as Tess not with him. 

He’s a mystery, an enigma of the highest level, and in some way you itch to unravel the mystery. The aura Joel carries with him calls to you in a way you’ve never felt before and suddenly when his dark eyes lock into your gaze from across the fire, everything stops. All sound falls away and your spine straightens instantly. A gasp is lodged in your throat, unable to escape. He is an apex predator, determining whether you are the same or his prey. 

You hold his gaze nervously, watching him in silence and seeing him commit every detail into memory. It should make you itch, knowing someone knows you are here, but for some reason, it doesn’t. His gaze holds you captive and you let it happen willingly. You let him see you, the weight you carry and the sorrow you feel for that girl he just buried by funeral pyre. 

It only takes a second or two but feels like a lifetime of being under his thrall before his brown eyes flash again and Joel reaches a conclusion of some kind. He tips his head, clearly now more curious than worried about you.

He moves a little, giving you a tantalizing view of a jawline covered in dark and grey hair and dry lips. You lick your own lips at the sight, glad that the movement is hidden by the smoke and the cloth over your face. He is gorgeous, a beautiful man forged in the living hell on earth, and some of the husky whispers of Joel Miller and his talents make more sense now. 

Find me later, the lips in question form the order slowly and you can practically feel the commanding tone rumble from his wide chest to yours. You give a jerky nod, unable to deny him. Joel holds your gaze for a beat longer before you have to close your eyes to rid the burning the smoke has caused.

When you open your eyes again, he’s gone from his spot. There is only fire and smoke and the scent of death around you. But you don’t worry about his disappearance as you slink back into the shadows of the building yourself. 

You know deep in your gut that if you don’t find him first, Joel Miller will find you.  

[reddragon30000]

A little mishap

For brienneoftarth1989

Brienne of Tarth x Podrick Payne

Fluff and hurt/comfort

Patience was not exactly something that Brienne of Tarth held in abundance, but she had found herself needing to employ it more and more since acquiring her first Squire. 

It wasn't that she disliked Podrick, but the number of things he didn't know far outweighed what he did, and that was hampering his duties as a Squire.

Brienne had to admit to herself that she was being a little unfair. Everyone had to start somewhere, but she was not used to someone else serving her, especially while travelling. 

All of this crossed the knight's mind as Podrick struggled to control his horse. He was a little way behind her now, trying to get his horse alongside hers. 

Brienne was startled by a loud bang,a pained yelp from Podrick and the sound of a startled horse. Turning her horse, she was surprised to see Podrick's legs sticking out of a large bush.

Somehow, he still had hold of his horse's reins, which was jerking his head a little, still somewhat startled.

Shaking her head, Brienne dismounted and strode over to Podrick. Tapping his foot, she asked:

"Pod? Can you hear me in there?"

A very muffled:

"Yes, my Lady"

Floated from the middle of the bush. The knight had to bite her lip hard to stop herself from laughing. Not only did her Squire sound utterly ridiculous, his legs sticking out of a bush was the funniest thing she had ever seen. 

Controlling herself with an effort, Brienne parted some leaves with her armoured arms until she could reveal the rest of her Squire. 

He peered up at her mournfully with a very scratched face, and Brienne patted him on the head, unable to stop herself. He looked both adorable and very sad, and the knight was impressed by the way he had held onto his horse. 

She sighed.

"Out of all the bushes to break your fall, you end up in a bramble bush. Here, grab my hand, I'll get you out."

With some more thrusts of her arms, and some tugging, Brienne pulled Podrick out of the bush. As she helped him regain his feet, she asked:

"What happened?"

He grinned at her sheepishly.

"I didn't tie one of my saddle-bags on tight enough and it fell off. When it hit the path it made a big bang, and my horse reared because he was startled. I lost my balance and fell in the bush."

Brienne sighed and shook her head, both amused and irritated. Moving closer to her Squire, she reached out a hand, cupping his face as she examined his scratches. 

Her voice was irritated, but her touch gentle as she grumbled:

"You really have the worst luck of anyone I've seen, boy!" 

Letting go of Podrick, Brienne pulled out a small jar and a cloth from her pack. Opening the jar, she brushed the contents on the cloth and began carefully treating the scratches on his face. 

"Keep as still as possible while I sort you out, these scratches need cleaning. "

He hissed in pain while his Knight tended to him, his face stinging unpleasantly. Finishing at last, Brienne put away her medicine and reached out, placing a hand softly on Podrick's shoulder. 

She smiled and said gently: 

"Don't be so downhearted. You did very well holding onto your horse in the middle of everything. I may snap at you sometimes, but I care about you too. You are learning, much quicker than you think. Do you understand, Podrick?" 

Podrick flushed and looked down at the path, swallowing hard. He had never heard Brienne open up this much to him before, and to hear her say how much she valued him was making him emotional. He managed a somewhat shaky:

"Yes, m-my L-lady." 

She nodded, squeezed his shoulder, and pulled him towards his horse. 

"Come on, time to get going. We can take it slowly for a while. Just try not to fall into any more bushes!" 

She smiled again at his sudden laugh and mounted, leading the way once more.

[ms-communication]

Of love and silent melodies (not the final title) 2/?

A predictable escape

The sun was still far from rising when the mercenary got to the makeshift quarters on the outskirts of the village. His horse, a chestnut mare, huffed and puffed exhausted as he dismounted. He hadn't even touched the floor when he saw his superior marching towards him, stomping angrily. He quickly fixed his defeated posture and wiped any emotions from his face.

– I see you here, but no one else is with you. Care to explain why? – she inquired, rage burning in her eyes. The woman interrogating him was barely tall enough to reach his shoulders, but what she lacked in height was evened out by her sheer willpower. She was all lean muscle, with olive skin, deep green eyes and black hair cut at shoulder length. But, more important than her appearance, she was the first in command of the Queen's mercenaries. Also, if one can believe the gossip whispered back at the castle's quarters, she was a lover of Queen Ezrian herself.

– How could you not see this coming, Cillian? I know you don't listen very well, but I believe your eyes and brain work, don't they? – Niysa yelled at him. Even though he was being publicly shamed, the mercenary held his head high and posture straight.

– I was caught off guard. It shan't happen again. – he affirmed. His tone was confident, but his hands were sweating. No one made him feel as inept as Niysa did, her words eating away at his ego. She spit on the floor, looking at him with disgust.

– if you weren't the only one for this task, I would never give you a second chance to disappoint me. But I have no choice, so have at you! Oh, and may the Lords protect you from my wrath if you fail once more. – she said at last, ending the conversation. When she finally disappeared behind the curtains of her tent, Cillian let himself relax. He walked to the nearest tree, sitting down and leaning on the trunk.

He couldn't forget the face of the bard as he cornered him. The smugness and debauchery. The big black eyes gleaming, the long strong nose, slightly tilted upwards. The high cheekbones and the full lips, everything about him so right, it almost felt wrong. "Now I get why the Queen wants him unharmed", Cillian thought to himself. "He'll be one more of her playthings". Sighing, he let himself be taken to a state of meditation, breathing deeper and deeper to reorganize his mind. Before noticing, he slipped into a restless nap, with dreams of his failure.

– I don't think you have time to sleep now, Ian. – Frond said, nudging him lightly with his boot. Cillian stared blankly, still half conscious from being woken up so abruptly. The blond man was standing over him, sun shining annoyingly bright behind his head.

– She'll kill you if she finds out you're not literally running after that scoundrel. – he laughed, but more than a hint of worry in his tone.

– Actually this worked out fairly alright. Now he's probably out there, singing carefree, as he doesn't see me as such a threat anymore. – he shrugged, his tone more confident than he felt, a hint of a smile on his cherry lips. – But, you're right nonetheless. Off I go! – he said, springing to his feet. Sheathed blade and horse packed with goods, he was ready. "Time to cage a bird", thought Cillian, filled with determination.

Dressed in a more casual attire, he hid his flaming red curls beneath a black hooded cape. No chainmail this time, nothing to alert the bard of his presence. All in his bag, of course, one can never be too prepared. After everything's arranged, he left the makeshift camp on his mare, to search for the Queen's lost bird.

On the other side of the tiny town, Finch indeed was dancing, but not as carefree as he would've liked. He was weary and constantly aware of his surroundings. Every glimpse of auburn hair made him jump and the faintest sound of chains would have the hair on the back of his neck standing. Still, there he was, singing and playing the prettiest of songs, dancing with the children as they laughed. He loved moments like these: surrounded by peasants, hard workers and children whose lives were still too short to already be so tough. Finch would never use his enchantments on honest people who barely had enough to survive as it is. He may be a scoundrel, but he was no monster. Never had he taken from people whose situation was like his own.

The performance ended and he was putting his lute away. A small boy brought him half a loaf of stale bread and a boiled egg, while a woman waved from the doorstep of a barely-standing house nearby. Smiling, Finch put the bread in his travel bag and took the egg for a snack, while handing the boy a ring made from flower stems. As the boy ran to his mom, smile wide on his face, the bard went back to his way. He already risked too much by staying the night at the same village he was almost caught. Turning around, Finch waved his last goodbye before entering the dense and dark woods that lead out of town.

Humidity clung to his hair and clothes as he ventured through the trees. Breathing was a strenuous task, making the path feel even more difficult and uncomfortable. The air was hot and still, suffocating Finch. His hair and clothes were plastered against his face and body, clinging awkwardly to his features and figure as thick sweat slid down his back. The bard stood there for a moment, remapping his steps. He chose a strong tree that towered above the others and climbed to the top, immediately feeling the wind on his hair. The sun was indeed high on the sky, already starting to fall a little.

From afar, he could see the cleared path, too unprotected from the sun but also less stuffy. His skin could take a bit of sun with no problem, but he couldn't risk a heat stroke. Especially not now, that he was amidst a pursuit. Breathing deeply the fresh air atop the trees, Finch prepared to get down and resume his journey, when he saw it. Far away, at the horizon of the cleared path, he saw a brown horse and a traveler riding it. Black cape swinging in the wind and bags hanging from the horse. As the man got closer, Finch saw a strand of red hair peek through the hood, being hastily put back under the cloth. The mercenary was way closer than he expected and also, way too determined on his mission for the bard's comfort.

He debated whether he should increase the distance between him and the rider or if he should stay close by and follow the horseman until he set up camp. On one hand, keeping distance would be safer in the short term, but the pursuer seemed extremely determined and the anxiety of the pursuit would slowly eat away at his energy. On the other hand, waiting for a moment of distraction and ending it all would be more time efficient and definitive. Either maiming or murdering the man would solve this whole situation. With his decision made, Finch slid down the top of the tree and silently meandered the forest to the edge of the path, waiting for the mysterious mercenary to pass him. Once he saw the man cross his position on the path, he smiled quietly as he began following the horse. "And so, the cat becomes the mouse", thinks Finch to himself, the sweet taste of victory on his tongue.

[trappedbeautyunleashed]

I have this strange feeling that I'm not myself anymore and I’m scared I’ll never find her… I’ve been in such a bad mental space that I can’t even explain it, it’s so exhausting just to wake up and go through the days motions but I'm used to it, and how bad it is, and how often it's so bad that it rings like a bell inside of me, drowning out everything around me. The truth is that I get frustrated with myself about it again and again but i can’t fix it ….I take meds but I’m still like this still? Again? It's not that I feel weak, precisely. It's just this sense almost like - I've already been pushing against this Demon for years now, shouldn't I have gained more ground? I get frustrated because I'm sick of picking up the loose ends and I get frustrated because it's always this same shit, same problem - I lose myself in a matter of months and spiral out of control, lose touch with friends and loved ones. I stop taking care of myself and therapy gets harder to the point I want to avoid it and I let everything around me wilt and shrivel and fall off.somehow I start both sleeping too much and not enough. I get panic-attacks just from simple tasks …just the other day I was having one and literally bawling in my car in the parking lot of DG pulling my hair out and hurting my ribs from sobbing so hard - and later, when I'm better, I'm embarrassed because how could I let it get that far?!?It feels like I already have done this so many times. Isn't there a way out of it? Isn't there a point where I've just... finally won? that it never happens again, that I just get to be done? maybe this is weakness that I often feel but comes to a point where I am used to it so I forget exactly how hard it gets. Do you even know how many times I’ve laid in bed, exhausted, blank and numb and try to drown out the thoughts with music as I lay there crying out to God- I can't anymore. I just can't. Im not even really upset just broken and lost…”It's okay” I hear but in that moment all I feel is that I’ve been here long enough. so much of my life was beautiful until the darkness took over .... I'm just... done. Do you know how many times I wake up and I say -I can't and put my feet on the floor and said I can't, I don't want to and literally forced myself to get up and take a shower, feed and dress my kid but it’s just to much work to make my own so I just don’t won’t eat that day. I put a nice playlist on and try to dance it out but I really can't and it sucks because then the thoughts start suffocating me there is no end to this and I go to my appointment and I called a friend just to get no answer,I made myself coffee even if everything tasted like ashes and decided that I really should wait for the new album from that artist I love and i thought I can't, it's not worth it and then I washed my hands and dye my hair,drank more water and wrote some gibberish,signed up for some fancy Mom group that I’ll never really attend because by the time it comes around my mind and body say I just can't, i try to fight back like I’m at war…I can't, I won't do this again, and I paid my rent but haven’t vacuumed or sweapt all week but still made myself eat something fresh and healthy even if it meant overdrawing my account on a stupid bag of carrots just because they looked delicious and do you know how often I closed my eyes and thought this is it I really fucking can't anymore seriously something has to give and I have nothing left that this “illness” can take but then I force my eyes closed till I finally drift to sleep and morning comes and I wake up and realize I survived another day anyway.

#keepgoing #mystoryisntoveryet #mentalhealthisreal #dontsufferinsilence

[aelfgiure]

"Good evening, hero. You need better security."

That familiar voice jolted you up from a sound sleep, sent you in a flat dive for the end of your bed and the holdout weapon stashed there. At least, that's what you intended to happen. Instead, you were tangled up in a strong embrace that prevented your fighting.

"Easy there, my dear little hero," he chuckled. "Had I intended to hurt you, I wouldn't have bothered to wake you. Calm down, please. This is... this is a social call."

"Ah, okaaay? Um, good evening, sir, you can let go now, I won't fight." You relax when his grip loosens, and you reach over to turn on your light. You look up at the most dangerous person on the planet, one that scares even the senior heroes at the Bureau. Doctor Veleno, Master of Poisons.

He's an impressive figure, normally one that's terrifying, but right now, he's smiling, his deep blue eyes sparkling with mischief. He's relaxed, entirely calm and unthreatening. "I came here to thank you in person, little hero. I was going to ask how I could repay you, but I think a security upgrade would be the most practical, don't you?"

You shake your head, a bit fuzzed from sleep and the adrenaline rush. "Pardon? Doctor, I'm not tracking -"

"My Rosemary. You saved her life."

Ah. Right, right, you'd tangled with the Unlight a few days ago and rescued a lovely older woman from their lair. You were still kinda smug about it to yourself, those Unlight bastards were hardcore, and you were still trying to figure out the whole 'superhero with powers' thing. The Bureau hadn't made it any easier, handing you stacks of books to read and assigning you online training courses. Tedious as hell. However, when the call, the plea for help came through, you were the only one who answered.

"Just doing my job, citizen!" you say in your best, most overblown Saturday morning cartoon hero voice, and grin as Doctor Veleno laughs out loud. "But seriously, Doctor, those Unlight guys are jerks, and Mrs. Veleno was minding her own business when they grabbed her, and I was the one on call -"

"Hush, you." He touches one finger to your lips, fleeting and gentle, to stop you. "You were punching way above your class, little hero. There were others who heard the call, and they ignored it.

"So, I'm here to thank you, in person. I was going to offer flowers, but," the villain chuckled again, looking overly amused, "I think you need the upgrades. Your current security is good enough to stop ordinary criminals, but you've put yourself in the big leagues now."

He hands you one of his cards and you accept it. It's a pretty thing, pressed paper with flowers imbedded in it. His name and a phone number are embossed in a deep green ink that shines a little in the light.

"If you ever decide to change employers, do call me. In the meantime, my people will be watching your home to prevent any intrusion while the new security system is installed. " He cups your face in his hands, bends down - way down, you're almost two feet shorter than he is - and kisses you on your lips. It's gentle, soft. He smells and tastes nice, like strange flowers, like spices from another world, and for a moment you really envy his wife.

"Ah, thank - thank you, Doctor. You're, you have been, very kind," you gasp, a little breathless. "I was just glad to help Mrs. Veleno out, she's a lovely lady."

"That, she is," he chuckles, and kisses the top of your head. "Goodnight, little hero. Again, thank you. We'll meet again."

You experience a moment of profound dizziness, a feeling of being swept up by a strong wind, and then you fall asleep. Sunlight wakes you up, early the next morning, and you wonder if it was a dream. When you stumble into the kitchen to start your coffee, you see Doctor Veleno's card, carefully propped up by your coffee maker, next to a bag of Blue Mountain coffee beans.

You wonder how the rest of the Bureau is going to deal with _this_ report. You sigh, and start the coffee. Far better to have him grateful than pissed off, you decide. You smirk to yourself. Not bad for a 'junior league wanna-be,' right?

You are a rookie hero. While a dangerous supervillain was preoccupied, rival villains kidnapped his wife. You were the only hero willing to help get his wife to safety. The terrifying supervillain now wants to thank you in person.

[poeticspoon-tb]

I have this strange feeling that I'm not myself anymore.

I’ve been in such a bad mental space that I can’t even explain it, it’s so exhausting just to wake up and going through the days motions.

I'm used to it, and how bad it is, and how often it's so bad that it rings like a bell inside of me, drowning out everything around me. The truth is that I get frustrated with myself about it - again? We're like this still? Again? It's not that I feel weak, precisely. It's just this sense almost like - I've already been pushing against this thing for years now, shouldn't I have gained more ground?

I get frustrated because I'm sick of picking up the loose ends every six months. I get frustrated because it's always this same shit, same problem - I lose myself in a matter of months; spiral out of control, lose touch with friends and loved ones. I stop taking care of myself and therapy gets hard and I let everything around me wilt and shrivel and fall off; start somehow both sleeping too much and not-enough. I panic-attack and cry in my car in a target parking lot, pulling my hair out and hurting my ribs from sobbing so hard - and later, when I'm better, I'm embarrassed because how could I let it get that far?

It feels like - I already have done this so many times. Isn't there a way out of it? Isn't there a point where I've just... won? that it never happens again, that I just get to be done? maybe this is weakness, I guess - that I still (so often!) succumb.

I am used to it, so I forget exactly how hard it gets. Do you even know how many times I’ve laid in bed, exhausted, blank and numb and listless and said - I can't anymore. I just can't. Im not even really upset. It's okay. I've been here long enough. so much of my life was beautiful.... I'm just... done.

Do you know how many times I woke up and I said - I can't and put my feet on the floor and said I can't, I don't want to and took a shower and walked the dogs and bought myself fresh bread and put a nice playlist on and said I really can't, there's no end to this and I went to work and I called a friend and I made myself coffee even if everything tasted like ashes and decided that I really should wait for the new album from that artist I love and i thought I can't, it's not worth it and then I washed my hands and cut my hair and drank more water and wrote a poem and signed up for an art class at the local community college and said I can't, I can't, I won't do this again, and I paid my rent and let the dishes rot in the sink but still made myself eat anything fresh even if it meant overdrawing my account on a stupid bag of plums just because they looked delicious and do you know how often I closed my eyes and thought this is it I really fucking can't, something has to give and I have nothing left that it can take and then I went to bed and I got up and I fucking survived anyway

[awlumii]

worst case scenario.

# — pairing: spidey!kazuha x gn!reader

# — characters: gender neutral reader, spider-man!kazuha

# — summary: after a little incident, spider-man begins to question his effectiveness as a hero.

# — warnings: mentions of blood/injury (cut from a ring from a slap), vague hints of minor character death

# — tags: hurt/comfort, yes there's kisses do not act surprised, kazuha's just really worried about you

# — notes: hey, remember that ask that was like "what happens if reader gets hurt?" and i was like "is a fic an okay response?" well, it's 4 am and i have this to show for it. i haven't stayed up until 4 am in almost six months. soooo, reblogs and reactions are REALLY appreciated, and i hope you enjoy! (and don't get tired of my spidey!kazuha shenanigans, ahaha..)

wanna join the tag list?

✦ — 🕷+ 🍁 — ✦

being robbed in an alleyway is the last thing you ever thought you'd be doing on a friday night. and yet here you were, arguing with two thieves who seem unsatisfied with the belongings that they found on your person. in your defense, you were just trying to get home after being in the library for almost eight hours straight; you didn't carry valuables because you had no use for them.

that very fact seems to piss off the taller of the two thieves. "i know you're hiding something!" he hollers at you. "you have to be hiding something from us!"

"how many times do i have to tell you," you groan, "i don't have any fucking money on me!" you gesture to your books and other materials that have been unceremoniously scattered on the concrete. "that's all i have. please, just take it and leave me alone."

common sense would tell you to mind your tone around these two. they're both bigger and visibly stronger than you; accosting them in such a manner was a recipe for disaster. plus, they're already pissed off and you don't know if they're armed or not. but you already spotted your self-defense stuff amongst the clutter at their feet and you're really deep in this alleyway — and even if you did scream and someone heard you, the thieves would probably hurt you if you drew too much attention to your situation.

all of that to say, you're trapped.

as you try to think of possible escape routes (all of which seem to end in hypothetical failure), the bulkier thief marches over to you and starts to pat you down -- probably in search of your wallet. you shriek and push him away as hard as you can. "don't touch me, what the hell?!"

the man glares at you with a wild, almost animalistic look in his eyes. "i felt a wallet," he growls at you, "fuckin' knew you were hiding something. hand it over!" he reaches out and takes your arm in a bruising grip.

"no!" you twist your body to try and free yourself. that only serves to upset the thief even more. he backhands you; hard. your head whips to the side with the force of it and your eyes water immediately.

the taller thief takes advantage of your disorientation and finishes patting you down. he finds your wallet and your phone, both of which he pockets. "i got it," he says, "let's go!" the man holding your arm releases you and takes off with his partner, speeding down the alleyway with your belongings.

you're still having trouble processing what just happened. the thief hit you so hard that your vision went white for a second, and now that you're re-focusing, you think that he must've been wearing a ring or two, because your cheek feels strangely wet. you bring your fingers up to your face and hiss as soon as you touch it. sure enough, your fingertips come back stained with crimson. he got you good.

with your phone gone, you can't even call the police to tell them what happened. you're more fixated on the deep cut on your face, anyhow. you stagger over to your belongings and gingerly place them back in the bag. at least you don't have to walk far.

the craziest part about all this wasn't even that you lost all of your stuff; it's that you were literally right outside your building. "silver lining, i guess." you mutter as you trudge home.

once inside, you toss your bag onto the floor and head to your closet to get the supplies to start cleaning your wound. just as you start to clean it, you hear a familiar thud and knocking coming from your balcony window. you step out of your bathroom and see none other than spider-man himself waiting for you.

the very second you open it, he's all over you, taking your face in one hand and inspecting it closely. "what happened?" he asks almost frantically. "who hurt you?"

you huff quietly, unsure of how to answer him. you're still a little disoriented. the adrenaline is taking its sweet time leaving your system. his gloved thumb brushes the skin just below your cut and you jolt, the sudden rush of pain forcing you to shove him away. "don't touch me." you grumble. you wince when you realize how harsh you sound. it's not like spider-man was the one who did this to you. "sorry," you apologize quietly, "don't touch me, please. i-it still hurts." you ignore his soft call of your name and head back into the bathroom to patch yourself up. "why're you even here?" you call out from where you are. "you don’t look injured."

to your surprise, he follows you. "there was a mugging reported in the area." he raises his left hand and out of the corner of your eye, you spot your phone and wallet. "before i returned these to their owner, i just wanted to see if you were--"

"holy shit, that's mine!" you snatch your stuff out of his hands and all but slam them down on your sink. "you caught those two?"

you wonder what face spider-man is making beneath his mask. "yes, but i... you were their latest victim?" he sounds like he's in complete disbelief.

"yes," you sigh. you feel infinitely lighter than you did a second ago. you perk up a bit and work a little harder on cleaning your injury. it's deeper than you thought it'd be — it might leave a mark. "the bigger one had rings on, right?" when spider-man nods, you grumble. "that asshole slapped me 'cause i wouldn't give up my wallet."

spider-man's hand comes up to grab your wrist, stopping you. you look at him, confused. his grip is tight. "let me." he says. he gently pushes you so you're sitting on top of your toilet lid. "please. it's the least i can do."

you gawk at him. "you want to patch me up this time?" spider-man doesn't answer; he finishes cleaning the blood from your face and you let him, a smile making its way across your face. "this is an interesting turn of events."

"this shouldn't be happening." spider-man says seriously. "you were never supposed to be--" he cuts himself off with a harsh sigh.

is he..?

"are you upset that i'm hurt?" you ask. "it was bound to happen at some point, y'know?"

that's apparently the wrong thing to say. spider-man clicks his tongue; clearly, he's upset. "you were supposed to be safe. i was supposed to keep you safe, and yet..." he gently dabs some antiseptic over your wound. you hiss and draw away from him, but he cradles your jaw in his other hand, keeping you still. "i'm sorry," he whispers, "i'm so sorry. i'll try harder to keep you safe next time. stop moving, please."

you're quiet after that. kazuha doesn't like it very much.

but what else is he supposed to say? what else can he say without giving himself away? he doesn't think his body will allow him to speak, anyway; his heart plummeted when he saw you bleeding, it's a miracle he managed to say this much in the first place.

kazuha always looks out for you — always. it doesn't matter who he fights or who he puts in jail; after every single mission, he's swinging by your apartment to see if you're okay. every day, when he sees you walking around campus unharmed and well, he feels like he's fulfilled his unspoken promise of keeping you safe. seeing you like this now makes him want to tear his mask off and throw it away.

what kind of hero is he if he can't keep his most precious person safe?

kazuha finishes patching you up in silence and smooths the bandage over your cheek. "there," he says softly. “all done.” you don’t move right away. instead you sit and stare at him with furrowed brows. kazuha stares back at you with a mirrored expression. “is everything okay?” he asks, worried that he’d messed up somewhere. “does it still hurt? It’s going to ache for a few days, but--”

“no, that’s not--” you sigh and bring a hand up to the bandage, brushing your fingers over it gingerly. “that’s not it. i mean, it hurts, yeah, but… you don’t seem okay. what’s wrong?”

what’s wrong, he wants to scream, is that he failed you. he can feel it now; this isn’t going to be the last time that you’re going to get hurt because of him. the only reason those two hair-brained idiots thought they could get away with this was likely because they heard news of some other criminals just barely managing to squeeze past him and law enforcement. they probably wanted to go home to their criminal friends and boast about how they of all people managed to get around the spider-man.

sure, they may not have known about your connection to him, but the fact remains that as long as you are a citizen in this city, the possibility of you becoming a victim (or god forbid, a casualty) of violent crime is never zero. you were lucky you walked away with a mere scratch — others aren't as fortunate. he's seen it all by now. the thought of you being one of the poor souls that he has the misfortune of happening across too late…

you're standing in front of him now. your fingers brush his jaw over his mask. without thinking, he'd turned his gaze to the ground. at your touch, he meets your eyes and sees, feels, the concern pouring out of them. "spider-man," you ask again, "are you okay?"

kazuha, overcome by his own failure and emotion, rests a hand over yours. "i'm sorry." his voice comes out as nothing more than a breath. a whisper. it's shaky and he tries to swallow it back, but the fear rises quickly and strangles him. the what-ifs can't be put to rest any longer. what if you ended up severely injured? what if you couldn't find help? what if you weren't trained to heal?

what if you'd ended up like tomo? or his parents?

"i'm so sorry," kazuha says again. "i promise you i'll do better. i will."

you look so worried about him. he's not used to seeing that when he's not on the brink of death. "you're beating yourself up, aren't you?" you sigh when he doesn't respond. he tilts his head away from you, but you cup his jaw and keep him facing you. "i'm fine, as you can see. it's just a flesh wound. it's not your fault this happened."

"it is," he insists. "if i wasn't… if-- if i wasn't spider-man, then maybe—"

"don't." your tone leaves no room for argument. "don't say that. don't blame yourself like that. it's not like crime didn't exist before you came on the scene. the odds of something like this happening are the same as they were all those years ago. i agitated them, and this," you point at your bandage, "is my just punishment. plus, you can't be everywhere at once."

kazuha sighs harshly. "that's the problem, dove. who's going to protect you because i can't be everywhere at once? what if they were more aggressive with you? what if i never showed up to check on you? i just… i don't…" don't want to lose you goes unsaid.

i don't want to lose the last ray of light i have left.

you cup his face fully this time and look straight into kazuha's eyes. it's times like these where he feels you can see straight through the mask and see him for who he truly is. your gaze could move mountains, he thinks, could uproot the sturdiest trees. you strip him down to his barest parts when you look at him like this. something flashes in your eyes, something kazuha recognizes. he leans forward and presses his forehead to yours. the two of you close your eyes and just breathe for a moment. it's grounding; like this, he can feel your presence fully. he can hear your heartbeat if he focuses enough — can count the milliseconds between each breath and match the rhythm, syncing the beat of his heart to your own.

a few beats pass. maybe two minutes at best. and then finally, you speak. "i'm right here." you say. it's your way of bringing him out of his own head, a method of calming him that you discovered by chance a few months ago. "i'm here and i'm safe."

"you're right here and you're safe," kazuha repeats your words. as if to confirm it, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses your body close to his own. "you're… right here," he sighs. "and you're safe."

"very good," you whisper. "good." you lean back to look him in the eyes and again, he sees that glimmer. your thumbs stroke the spot where his lips would be almost absent-mindedly. you seem to be thinking about something. it's probably the same thing kazuha is thinking, but neither of you act on it. it wouldn't be the first time either of you have acted on that thought, but neither of you do for a while, with you tracing the rough outline of his lips through his mask. kazuha's heart threatens to burst out of his chest and for a second, he worries if you can hear it.

after a pregnant pause, he throws caution to the wind. kazuha murmurs, "close your eyes." you do as he says without a moment's hesitation and he seizes the moment, pulls his mask up just enough to kiss you. there's no heat to the kiss. it's all leisure; slow and reassuring, a gentle press of lips to remind one another of the present. your lips are soft and warm and you're here, right now, with him, alive and well. he takes a chance and moves his lips and you move yours in tandem, elongating the kiss and extending the moment. pressed chest to chest in your bathroom, you kiss your spider-man as lovingly and as desperately as he kisses you. kazuha's fingers instinctively come up to hold your face but he touches the bandage and makes you flinch. you let out a soft, shocked hum into the kiss, and he lightens up, pecks your lips a few times in apology. "i'm sorry," he whispers over and over between kisses. "i'm sorry."

you kiss back sweetly, reassure him wordlessly that it's okay. after a few more pecks kazuha fixes his mask back in place with a sigh. he catches the moment your eyes flutter open and admires the haze that he finds. "are you still beating yourself up about this?" you ask. your voice is near inaudible, but he hears you.

"a little." he half-chuckles. "i still wish i'd been there to stop it from happening."

"it's okay if you weren't. because what am i?" when kazuha doesn't respond, you start to pinch his cheeks. "hey, i asked you a question. what am i?"

"uh," he replies, his words a little garbled from the pinching, "really cute?" the mood restores itself with a light jest. you chuckle and pinch his cheeks tighter. kazuha hisses a soft chorus of ows and gives in. "okay, okay! you're alive and safe, i got it."

"and don't you fucking forget it." you sound smug, your usual smile brightening your face. something warm washes over you. "thank you for stopping by and patching me up, spider-man. i really appreciate it."

kazuha winces, though you don't see it. he'd gotten so absorbed in the moment that he temporarily forgot that he was in costume. the ocean that reappears between you two with the utterance of his hero name feels so easy to cross, yet simultaneously impossible. "don't mention it. maybe you should return the favor sometime." he forces out the joke.

you laugh and finally release him. "i'll think it over. now get lost, webhead." you pull yourself out of his arms and step aside for him to exit the bathroom and subsequently, your apartment. "i'm sure the rest of the city's wondering where their friendly neighborhood spider-man is. i will admit though," you pause and look in the mirror to admire his handiwork. "you did a pretty good job. i didn't know you knew how to dress wounds this well. you sure i need to return that favor?"

spider-man folds his arms over his chest. "believe it or not, i used to do it myself before i met you."

"hm." you don't say much more on that. "well, okay. go back to helping little old ladies cross the street or whatever."

"is that what you think i do all day?" spider-man asks as the two of you walk to your balcony door.

"what, have you not done that before?"

"...that's besides the point."

"oh my god, wait, i was joking. do you actually do that? i thought that was like, only a thing in comics."

spider-man rolls his eyes, forgets that you can't see that, and shakes his head. he hops on your balcony railing, poised to leave. "good night, dove. i'll see you soon."

you giggle. the sound is music to his ears. "good night, spider-man. be safe."

"you too. for me."

and with a thwip-!, he's gone. probably to help another little old lady across the street.

✦ blinks dryly

✦ poor tomo isn't getting fed until early afternoon... i'm not gettin up early later.