#how dare you leave me a buffet like this

[landwriter]

dead boy detectives was clearly grown in a lab to incite fanfic and i, for one, am not going to resist any longer

[goldsbitch]

Right? p5

summary: Y/N is a photographer for McLaren F1 team. Hard working, goal oriented professional who would never put her career in jeopardy for some stupid crush, right?

That is until a photoshoot gets out of hand and there is no way to go but forward.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

warning: 18+ i guess?, shorter than usually, but oh well

Arriving late was not something you particularly enjoyed. Almost half an hour after the big speech, which included the top management and few important people, Lando included.

You were off duty tonight and seriously contemplated skipping this altogether. But what's bad about one drink at one of Monaco's fanciest villas. There were some races which seemed to be more about the glam around it, rather than the actual racing. Unlike Lando, who seemed to be glowing around and luring people in to come and talk to him, you were in no mood for that. Avoidance was the theme today actually.

You opted to hang out at the second balcony, overlooking the pit where all the magic seemed to be happening. People mingling, laughing, drinking and networking. Normally, you'd be too, you thrived in that on a good day. But, the vibe was nice, so what the hell. You certainly were not following every Lando's move. That would be a bit strange, right? The casual monitoring was alright, you'd convinced yourself. Even that grew a little boring after a while, so you spaced out back to the forest. Why did it have to be him - spotlight seemed to follow him. Impossible to catch a moment. When will you be able to talk to him again?

A hand touched your hip, coming from behind. You knew immediately. The scent, the way he touched you and even the shadow gave him away.

"Be careful," you whispered. You slowly explored the surroundings for any prying eyes.

"I'm always careful. You'll see that soon," insinuating the type of thoughts your head had him only projected to these days. His hand moved to your thigh. "You clean up pretty nicely, by the way. Except...would you have a look at that," he reached to your hair and pulled out one tiny branch, no longer touching you. "Where did you get that?"

You took the branch out his hands, making sure to hold his hand a little longer than a friend would. You leaned in and whispered: "That branch is really dry. That can't be mine." And you walked away with hope that his mind was in a similar position as your has been the whole evening.

The evening changed its course, you mingled with your colleagues and opted for having fun. Making Lando jealous was the new plan. Testing the limits, just out of pure boredom. You hoped he was watching, otherwise all of this flirting and friendly touching was for absolute nothing. But you knew he was watching you, just as you were watching him. This cat and mouse dance went around for almost an hour. Cheap tricks you had in your arsenal were in a direct contrast to the vibe this evening was suppose to have. The two of you encountered again, standing next to one another at the buffet table.

"I hope I'm the only one who can see what you're doing."

"Must have been the alcohol, right?" you said mockingly. "Does that sound convincing? So that I have a response if anyone asks tomorrow."

"Second last door upstairs, on the left. Leave now and we'll see, might come and join you," he said walking away immediately. And like a little puppy you did as he requested.

You entered a small room, making sure you were not followed or anything. You dared not to wonder what usually happened in this kind of room. Tipsy mind and racing heart is a dangerous combination. So once he finally joined you, after what felt like a century, you did not wait, ready for your usual make out session. There was a reason why you "forgot" your lipstick tonight.

"Na-ah," he stopped you, which was very uncharacteristic of him. You froze, not sure what he was going for. Did you do something wrong?

Lando locked the door.

"I see what your doing, Y/N. How you move to tease me, how you flirt with other guys, out of the blue...Now that's not what good girls like you do, am I right?" he walked towards you and slowly backed you up to a table and did not stop when his body started to press on yours.

"Not enough things to stimulate the mind, I guess." You were barely focusing on replying, his hand circulating around your body like a vulture was your main concern.

"Are you saying everyone here is boring?" he asked without wanting an actual answer. Both of you were just slightly braved than you were in the past few days. The eagerness finally crept out and neither one of you had the intention to stop it. Lando had the upper hand today, that much was obvious. He held you, found the hem of your dress and shamelessly explored your underwear. Desire swept over you.

He abruptly removed his hand. "Am I boring you?" he said smirking. Before you could gather up your two active brain cells for an answer, his eyes deadlocked with yours as he put his two fingers gently into your mouth.

"Cat got your tongue?" You licked his fingers without needing to be instructed. You never needed or even wanted to be called a good girl. With him, you were moment from begging for it.

"I have a tongue, if you're interested."

He went back, twisted your panties in his fingers and inserted two into you. At first he moved slowly, reading your face carefully, maping out your reactions. "And what about now? Still bored?"

You were wet, oh you were so wet you felt ashamed. His fingers moved in you and if you had had the capacity, you would have wondered how was it that he was making the perfect moves without your guidance. But you didn't, so one less thought to bother you today. If this reaction was caused only by his fingers, you dared not to imagine his tongue on any part of your body.

"But looking at that, this is working just fine enough. For now." He held you while you were getting lost in the moment. Just as it started, it ended. Quickly. You were about to finish - and he must have known that. Oh he knew. He smirked on the way to the door.

"Let me know if you're bored again," he winked at you before unlocking.

You were left sitting there with a clouded mind and a body that wanted more. A smile crept on your face, how easy did this guy have it with you was almost embarassing. Fortunately enough, you checked your dress before leaving. His little play left a wet stain on the back of your light green dress. Having no other choice, you laughed at the absurdity of the situation. To solve that matter, you spilled your red wine on the light green dress, making it look like someone crashed their drink into you - well, it would require some acting on your part to sell it properly. Lando Norris officially owed you a new dress. And his tongue all over your body.

//

You walked down, hoping everyone was minding their own business not to pay too much attention to your red wine stain. The plan was to say quick goodbyes and go home - and finish yourself alone. Reviewing work photos was never this much fun before.

Lando watched you as you walked down again, amused at the damage done to your dress. He raised his glass to you as you were walking by. Your boss stood right next to him, his back turned to some other people you could not care less about right now.

"I came to say goodbye," you said politely to you boss.

"Ah, shame life of the party!" he proclaimed.

"Yeah," you pointed to your dress, "someone walking by me had too much wine so they wanted to share. Plus, I am getting tired and these types of events can get a little boring after a while. Can't wait for the real action," you said, knowing well enough Lando heard you.

"Workoholic as always, that's why we like you, Y/N. Have a great night," wished your boss.

"Oh, trust me, I will. See you tomorow."

A text popped on once you were outside the villa. Lando.

"Hope you'll be thinking of me during the night. I can still smell you on my fingers."

You replied few minutes later. "Will do...I'll let you know once I've finished."

"Oh, please do."

And you did. Hoping that Lando touched himself too.

part 6

_______________________

@i-wish-this-was-me @lqvesoph @ophcelia 

[arminsumi]

OUR LAST SUMMER.

五夏 ⋅ reader

PART OF THE 2k SPECIAL: ur fave duos!!

NOTE: yuh this hurt to write 🥹 was solely inspired by that one abba song i'm ngl i listened to it one night and related it to satosugu and cried like a bitch

SUMMARY — You, Suguru and Satoru shared one summer of bliss before everything fell apart

WARNINGS — fluff to angst 👍, love triangle, i think it's gn reader but lmk if there's something not gn thank u!!

WORDCOUNT ≈ 1k

PLAY ME ♪ Our Last Summer

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

It had been a blisteringly hot summer. Sweat beaded at Suguru’s forehead. The sun forced Satoru’s eyes into a perpetual squint. And you took shelter in the shade of a palm tree – the two boys met you there, when they too decided to take shelter in the shade. The chemistry between you three was explosive, truly chemical; that one of a kind, once in a lifetime kind of friendship that blooms instantly like a timelapse of a flower, that artists and poets try their hand at capturing but mostly fail.

Beach walks were impossible at midday – the sand was so hot that it burned the soles of your feet. If you were riskily treading barefoot, then the boys would take turns carrying you. Satoru carried you bridal style. Suguru carried you on his back. The prior liked to pretend that he was going to throw you into the ocean (and he did a few times…) and the latter liked to steal romantic glances at you.

Come night, you three crammed together in one hotel room. Conversations, debates, arguments, flirting… those all easily carried past the midnight hour. Satoru was the first to pass out, but Suguru being the insomniac of the group managed to stay awake even longer with you. Usually, you fell asleep in the middle of expressing a thought to Suguru, and then woke up the next morning to two bleary blue eyes blinking awake on your left and abyssal black eyes blinking awake on your right. Satoru rolled on top of you and refused to let you leave bed. Suguru smiled and told him to stop crushing you to death.

Breakfasts were met with late attendance – thanks to Satoru taking his sweet time in the bathroom getting ready. Plates piled and spilled with hotel buffet food; Satoru’s plate consisted solely of sweet pastries. The custard Danishes were his favourite. The three of you broke down laughing at your inside joke about him being the custard Danish robber; the three of you couldn’t catch your breaths from how hard you laughed at your own stupid jokes. “He’s at it again!” Suguru snorted, body falling into yours, eyes reduced to strips of pure joy.

Butterflies liked Suguru for some reason. It was awful for him – he was terrified of butterflies, they really creeped him out. During walks around Okinawa, you struggled to keep up with the two giants; Satoru never missed a beat when walking in sync with his best friend. And he also never missed the opportunity to pick on your slowness or size. Suguru would patch up your bruised ego with a well-timed compliment.

When your holiday in Okinawa was drawing to a close, you three decided to cram as much exploration as possible into those three last days. Pulling all-nighters, stargazing, joking around, sharing secrets, kissing as friends until those kisses became something more. The final day of your holiday was spent ascending a hill that overlooked the glittering beaches. Such a picturesque view. One you didn’t dare to capture in a photograph, because that felt disrespectful. It was a beautiful landscape that deserved to live only in the rich world of your memories.

On that grassy hill, in that briny wind, you three thought that the present moment would never end. You held hands. You kissed. Your hands felt warm. Your lips felt tingly. They both looked at you meaningfully.

“Come back to Jujutsu High with us.” You didn’t hesitate to agree, a sparkle in your eyes. No one in your life had ever accepted you as a sorcerer until they came along.

Summer ended…

And the school year began.

In the far future, when you and Satoru would reminisce together as old Jujutsu High teachers to your students, you two would summarize your high school days with very specific memories.

“Remember when we always got caught making out in the classroom, and Yaga chased us down the corridors?”

“ – and we’d loiter around the vending machines. You know, Yuji, Satoru had such a bad sweet tooth even back then. And! He! Stole! My! Lunches! He was a menace!! Don’t deny it, Satoru.”

“What I stole from you in food I repaid in saving your ass. Remember when you almost died? No joke, Megumi, Y/n almost died during that Alleyway Incident – you know that one we talked about? Yeah, that was Y/n. Suguru and I were stronger than Y/n so we always helped – heyyy! I’m just telling the truth!”

“Who was Suguru?”

The smiles dropped from yours and Satoru’s faces. The color drained out of them, too. Just one little name, six little letters, devastated the atmosphere. That’s when the reminiscing ceased abruptly, and Satoru stood up and excused himself to a quiet place. You and him never cried together, only separately – except for on that day.

That day was the first and only day you and Satoru broke down sobbing into each other. Snot dribbled out of your noses. Your eyes puffed up. Your faces felt tightened with the dried tears.

“Suguru, don’t leave. Come back with us to Jujutsu High, we can sort all of this out.”

But he turned and walked away from you and Satoru, disappearing into the crowd of people. You yelled so loudly that you hurt your lungs, “Did our last summer mean nothing to you! What about the memories we’ve made at school together?! Suguru, don’t you walk away from us! Don’t – leave us behind, S-Suguru did it all mean nothing to you?!”

Just like that, three reduced to two. Just you and Satoru. Sat on the steps in heavy, impenetrable silence. Faces planted into your palms. Back curved because you had no energy to sit up straight after such an exhausting cry. You never thought you’d look into Satoru’s eyes and see no light. Over the years, he lightened up – especially when he became a teacher. But you could tell he masked his true expression; a deadpan. The real emotions were forcefully forgotten.

[thecountesstribe]

HOTD Ep 2x7 Spoilers and review.

So this was one of my favorite episodes this season and also one of the coolest imo.

Seasmoke being protective of Addam and looking proud he terrorized Addam into being his rider was too funny. I love that dragon 😂. Come through Addam the Loyal, all Rhaenyra had to say was she's queen and he immediately acknowledged her and bent the knee, I loved that. He's really about to become my other favorite boy.

Corlys being shook and acting like he doesn't know Addam, like sir if you don't tell the truth already. He's never gonna beat the deadbeat allegations. Although when he told him “Well done” I did whoop a little. I would've kicked his ass had I been Addam though.

Oscar Tully! That's it. That's the fuckin post. He gagged Daemon and stood on business. I love to see young kids bullying arrogant adults, he reminded me of the OG lil boss Lyanna Mormont. That's my lil nephew now.

Daemon didn't take the crown. We saw him hallucinating again, this time with the sick version of Viserys and Viserys holding the crown which he didn't take. I mean anybody with a brain could summarize that he never wanted the crown, we didn't need to spend so much time in his delusions in Harrenhal to tell us that. We certainly didn't need a scene of him feasting on his mom to tell us that, yuck. For all his faults he really was about his family. He went about it the wrong way but that's Daemon for you. His stupid self destructive ass.

We had an unnecessary scene of Alicent running about the woods after leaving King's Landing. Chile anyways. Larys is totally protecting Aegon now and he's essentially crippled atp. I fear for Baela's storyline.

Rhaena is looking for Sheepstealer. Her and Jeyne are still tussling but they waited until the final 2 episodes to give her something, Baela had no lines besides looking pretty and staring at Jace. I fuckin hate it here. Could we bully HBO AND THE WRITERS SOME MORE. WTF!!

Vermithor and SilverWing looked so cool. What did that old bum feed Vermithor though? He's big asf. SilverWing just might be the coolest looking dragon. I can't rank them anymore cause I like them all 😭. Literally my favorite thing about the episode. Like the directors cooked. The dragons are funny asf 😂😭😭😭. There were a lot of parentage reveals, I don't believe for a second Saera sired that ugly man but anyways. RhaeRhae led those people to their deaths. Rhaenyra deadass gave this big ass pep talk, she reminded me of Erwin before he led the scouts out on what would be their suicide mission except she didn't stay to see the outcome or participate in it. Vermithor saw an opportunity for a buffet and took it, Hugh claimed him. Fuckin cinema. Still gonna hate his bitchass but I can't lie that was badass. SilverWing was bullying Ulf. Why do people I hate always win sometimes?! Ulf literally failed upwards. Can't be mad at it. I mean if I was a dragon I would've done the same shit. How dare mediocre specimens come before me who is essentially the next best thing after the Gods!

We got Rhaenyra speaking High Valyrian. She had her dragon squad quit on her though and gave her a warning (foreshadowing). Her also being able to calm Vermithor, that's the Dragon Queen of her era y'all. We saw a little movement with her and her protective spoiled cat Syrax too 😍.

Not people hating on Jace now. Listen that argument has been brewing since season 1. He just finally let it out of his brooding body. I don't think many people understand the implications that argument meant. He sounded classist and maybe he was, highly doubt he is but he's being realistic and in the future he was proven right (unless they scrap the book canon). Rhaenyra paralleled Viserys in that entire scene. She really is her father's child in some ways. She did to Jace what Viserys essentially did to her. The one thing that could've upheld his ascension to the throne was him having a dragon and she essentially gave a free pass to anybody to do the same, the same thing was done to Rhaenyra when Viserys decided to marry Alicent and sire more children when he knew damn well that if he had a son, her claim to the throne would've been compromised. Jace knows he's a “bastard”, a legitimate one but a “bastard” ntl (I'm not calling him a bastard in a derogatory sense either, he isn't. Laenor claimed them as his sons and that's the end of it to me) , it shouldn't matter considering the throne is not passing from his father's side but his mother's. Sure his last name would've changed the minute he was named heir and ascended as stated by Viserys but what weight does that hold now? They briefly touched on it when he spoke to Baela about his fathers but he had always been insecure about his parentage. No he didn't call his mother a whore, he's been fighting that battle all his life, she just made it worse. In the dire situation they're in, the sacrifice had to be made but I could understand why he's angry and hurt over it again. She literally just made him illegitimate in the eyes of the realm. His anger is valid. Was his tone harsh yes, try dealing with the whispers and the jeers and everything else for the past 16 years of your entire life and seeing the same proof of what everybody else sees everyday and tell me that you wouldn't hold some kind of resentment towards it. I liked how Rhaenyra was patient with him though, just wished it wasn't as rushed as the scene felt.

The last shot of the episode was fuckin brilliant. Aemond turning his bitchass around knowing he can't handle that kinda pressure. Also Vhagar and Aemond's bond may not be as strong as it should be. She clearly does not listen to him sometimes. He's still responsible for Lucerys death IDC what y'all got to say. The episode got a 4/5 stars from me just for the dragons. I'm here for Jace, Baela, Addam and the Dragons!

Until next week guys for the finale. We're going to see Tessarion and Sheepstealer next week. I'm so excited.

[divinit3a]

For the ask game 💕

💕 Time for a shout-out! What are some of your fav AUs from other creators in the fandom? ⭑ dca au ask game

^-^ ....OK! I shall set down all the cakes on the table for a full buffet! Get your forks & knives out! 🍽️🍽️🍽️

please don't hesitate to let me know if you'd prefer not to be @'d in the future, or to be removed from this post u_u <3 I totally respect folk's preferences!

✨ lets go! ⭑⭑⭑ ⭑⭑⭑ ⭑⭑⭑

@muzzlemouths Dead Mall Dare / DfTR AU(s) Dead Mall Dare was one of the first AUs I read (like, literally. 1-2 months ago!) & I went woooaaah they are fun removed from original context. Isn't that so neat ?? This isn't a rabbithole to fall in, tho. u_u No wayyy guys c'mon ... /j Likewise, DfTR is a treat to watch unfold & see people squirm ^-^

@r0b0-wannabe Botanical Garden AU (or just any of your stories, but I'm.. sticking to the law...s... ) Hi, I stayed up to 2-3am drawing ur boys bc Im normal about this AU & how endearing it is... obviously... (💚) I love your writing style & characterizations. Maybe this is silly, but, I also enjoy learning about plantcare, too :3

@sinister-sincerely 2nd Choice AU Oh, you are so evil. The username matches. (A COMPLIMENT!! Hehe.) Oh, you write drama, angst/no comfort, hurting/damaged characters making awful choices so well. It was wild doing a double-take to realize YOU! are the WRITER for 2nd choice!! Some day, I will get u. For now, run 💜🔪

@wyervan Human!Slasher AU :D Yay! Both the OG/Main storyline are wonderful. I find the community version very endearing as an AU-within-an-AU. (love that!) As someone who used to run RP groups (on god!) it fills my heart with joy to see people filling out a world with so much life. Your art style is delightfully grungy ^-^/

@pluck-heartstrings - Pluck My Heartstrings AU Ohhh. I am weak to fairytale/renfaire vibes, as well as the more classic harlequin jester aesthetic u_u<3 Plus, the Vocalist/Princess is just so dang compelling, too. Your design sense is impeccable.

@moon-buggg Haunted House & Mad Scientist AUs They are both so neat & I can't wait to learn more!! The Haunted House AU designs live in my head rent free along with the comics :3

@zenkaiankoku Broken but Better AU Lovely, torn-up designs! Yay, mechanical horror! Yay, angst!! And a delightful remix of their personalities, too <3

@authormeat Alienware AU ^-^ I am instantly delighted by the weird guy freak energy & that the yn IS an alien/monster. Thats all I want & more. I also love ur designs for other AUs

...

...

...... 🧍 I Have More to Say

And...And... Not.. AU specific, but 🏏💥BAM , BAM 💥🏏 LOVELY FOLKS!!!!!!

🍲 <{ @soupdweller THERE IS NO ESCAPE ok but fr.. I appreciate ya, homie :3 you are a joy to chat with!! beautiful art!! evil mind!! delicious soups. i cant wait for whatever u cook up ^-^ 🐤 <{ @luckyyyduckyyy I WILL READ UR AU STORIES!! RUN & HIDE!!! you are the goofiest goober in the wild west, by goodness. i love ur energy and the gorgeous designs u create!! 🐛 <{ @chickenchirps27 ACK I COULD STARE AT UR ART FOREVER! I'll have to start volleying over illustrators I think ya might enjoy... u are so sweet & funny!! 🐐 <{ @lurking-loaf YOU ARE SO KIND! Seriously, I appreciate the fun craft projects you recommended -& your words of support :') 🔮 <{ @anis-sketches :D HI! Happy to throw recs your way. Also, your art is adorable!! 🌿 <{ @craykaycee HI TO U TOO!! the tags u leave always make me smile, and i appreciate u stopping by to say hi... :3 & MANYMANY MORE BUT I NEED TO CUT MYSELF OFF OR ELSE

Per usual, I lost sight of the original goal. But! Consider:

🏏💥WHAM , BAM 💥🏏 GOTCHU >:)

[theother456-stories]

The cruise

Lucas had always had a hearty appetite, but the cruise he’d just embarked on was proving to be a whole new level of indulgence. The promise of “all-you-can-eat” dining had been one of the major selling points, and he had eagerly anticipated it. However, what the cruise line hadn’t anticipated was someone with an appetite like his.

By the second night, Lucas had already established a routine. Breakfast was a seemingly endless parade of pastries, sausages, and pancakes drenched in syrup. Lunch was a buffet of international cuisines, each plate bigger than the last. But it was dinner that truly did him in: a multi-course feast of gourmet dishes, decadent desserts, and his newfound favorite — glasses of rich, creamy drinks that went down smoothly and only encouraged his appetite further. The waiters were beginning to notice him too, giving him nods of acknowledgment as they brought yet another round of entrees to his table.

By the third day, Lucas found himself waddling instead of walking. His once loose shirt now stretched tightly over his ever-growing belly, the buttons straining more with each passing meal. He could feel the extra weight accumulating rapidly, each meal expanding his girth. His belly, once soft and manageable, had grown to a size that even surprised him. It jutted out prominently, round and firm, like a beach ball strapped to his front. The weight of it forced him to lean back in his chair as he ate, each movement becoming slower, each bite heavier.

“I don’t think they factor in me when they say that the dining on this cruise is all-you-can-eat,” he tweeted one night, pausing between bites of a decadent chocolate cake. His fingers had grown pudgy, and even holding his phone had become an effort as his belly pressed forward, almost touching the table in front of him.

His online followers loved the updates. Each post garnered hundreds of comments cheering him on. Some even dared him to see how much weight he could gain by the end of the cruise. And Lucas wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

By day five, the cruise staff had to make adjustments. His appetite was insatiable. He’d begun to notice that every night, a few waiters would hover nearby, seemingly intrigued by his ability to out-eat anyone else on board. And Lucas, in turn, started playing it up, ordering more and more food to see just how far he could push himself.

Each evening, he’d leave the dining hall with his belly so full and heavy that walking became a near-impossible task. His belly had swelled to a massive size, pressing against his thighs as he sat down, forcing him to spread his legs wider to accommodate the bulk. The buttons of his shirt were at their limit, each one straining against the pressure. He had already ripped through two shirts and was now down to the largest one he owned — though he knew it wouldn’t last much longer.

One night, as Lucas sat back after finishing an enormous meal of steak, potatoes, and three desserts, he found himself chuckling. “I’m blowing up like a balloon,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his stretched stomach. The creamy drink in front of him was the perfect nightcap, and as he downed the glass, he couldn’t help but notice the looks of awe from the other diners.

By day seven, the crew had taken to rolling him back to his cabin in a wheelchair. His legs had become too tired, his belly far too heavy to support himself after such massive meals. His once toned figure had ballooned beyond recognition. His belly alone had become a spectacle — it protruded out in front of him, resting heavily on his lap when he sat, and it jiggled with each movement.

On the final night of the cruise, Lucas made his last trip to the dining hall. He had a goal in mind. His followers had been keeping track, cheering him on, and tonight, he wanted to make it count. He ordered plate after plate, devouring everything in sight. The waiters kept bringing more, and Lucas kept eating. His belly swelled even larger, his shirt now unbuttoned completely, unable to contain the massive gut that pressed forward, its skin stretched tight and shiny.

As the night went on, he could feel every pound settle into his body, every bite making him just a little bit heavier. By the end of the night, Lucas sat back in his chair, his belly now resting on the table in front of him. He looked down in disbelief, his massive belly spilling out in all directions, far bigger than he ever imagined possible.

Before he left, one of the staff brought out a scale, something Lucas had requested earlier. The final weigh-in was a moment of anticipation. He heaved himself onto the scale with the help of two waiters. The number blinked on the screen for a moment before settling.

920 pounds.

Lucas let out a low whistle, both surprised and proud. He had boarded the ship a week ago at a relatively fit 290 pounds. But now? He had gained more than 600 pounds over the course of the cruise. As he was wheeled back to his cabin for the final time, Lucas couldn’t help but grin. This had been one wild ride, and he’d leave the ship as the undisputed king of the buffet.

[darklyndivinely]

Let Me Love You

Pairing - Lucifer x gn!reader

Warnings - angst, fluff, talk of death, alcohol use.

Wordcount - 900+

A/N - Doomed by the narrative but choosing to keep going? I eat that shit up every time! Headers by @cafekitsune.

OM!Masterlist • Leave a tip! • Taglist Form • Lucifer Masterlist

“How long are you going to pretend?” you whisper, tracing the shadows the lapis lazuli-coloured fire casts across his face, sleek and wild and volatile in their density. “That this thing between us doesn’t exist? That I’m not hopelessly in love with you?”

Lucifer takes a hearty swill of the Demonus cradled in his hands. His eyes, lidded and opalescent red, connect with yours with the soft, lingering start of a violin solo in the background, and he tongues at the aftertaste of alcohol that lingers on his lips before saying, “Is this not enough? Being serenaded by my beloved music? Bearing witness to my delicate state?”

“What are you so afraid of?” You burrow deeper into the plush of the sofa, the conjoined dynamic heat of the fire, liquor and the outline of his body pressed against yours keeping your lips loose. “Death?”

"Only yours," he replies, voice deeper than usual. "Mine would be a miracle gone rogue.”

The cold of the floor has started to nip at your toes, seeping into sock and skin like algae embracing wet stone. The hearth sputters a burst of blue flame as if to soothe you. “Before or after mine?”

He answers in silence, loud and unsurprising. You shake your head and take a sip of your human poison to quell the uncertain thrill of your next words.

“...Do you, though?”

His eyes are frothing drops of blood in a sea of fire. They flicker infinitesimally downwards to your lips, then straighten, boring intensely into yours like a tantalizing still of the dawning sun that causes harm to the eyes yet coaxes the body to halt anyway.

“You know it.”

“And yet you dare not utter the words.” Disappointment unfurls in your chest like a weed in a flourishing farm.

He roughly pulls at his bottle, only to discover it light and empty. “Are you truly so greedy for those frail utterances to deliberately shy from actuality?”

"I'm only human," you spit, emptying your glass sharply, perhaps to draw attention to the liquor that evades his own flask. The subsequent burn in your throat then that seems to mimic the knot in your sternum comes across as irritating and deserved. "Spare me the condescension on days I grow tired of mute pining."

Lucifer swallows harshly, seeming to push down the words already half-formed on his tongue, setting his lacking bottle aside neglectfully. He abandons his seat and trudges towards his beloved liquor cabinet, plucking forth a bottle of Devildom whiskey which he then uncorks with his teeth and takes a burning swig from. The muscles of his shoulders, clad in his regular black shirt, are bunched from sitting in a cruel wooden chair gazing at papers all day. He lingers by the cabinet for a long while, head turned left to stare in a reverie at the creamy Devildom moon looming beyond the glass windows of his office, a psychedelic rock-esque orchestral piece providing the soundtrack for his musings. The hand clasped around the fresh bottle remains limp by his side, the neck tilted at a dangerous axis.

When he turns, there is an expression of resolution in his eyes. He rests the bottle carefully on the farthest edge of the table and kneels by your socked feet. You straighten in surprise, the sudden movement disorienting to your inebriated senses, and stare at the odd image of him there.

"What are you doing?"

He clasps a hand of yours in his and tugs it towards his lips, feathering upon your knuckles a sweet kiss, then presses the back of it to his forehead, where his black diamond might shine if he were to switch to his more primal form. It seems the thought of it occurs to him too for there's a gust of air that buffets you, two massive raven wings unfurling and curling around your lonesome figure, and the mass of his horns emerging to face you at an exposed incline.

He does not look up as he speaks, voice hazy with an encompassing mixture of regret and realization, "I did not say it, perhaps because it was I who lost sight of actuality within the confusing folds of past and future. You're here, you're real, and though you might say that you shall stay forever we both know you lie. We've wasted too much time already and I apologize for how much of that is a fault of mine."

Lucifer raises his head, his eyes just the littlest bit shiny, and slides your palm to rest over his chest, his beating heart a staccato of vulnerability and discomposure.

"Would you go on a date with me, my love?"

It takes a few moments worth of weighing the significance of the scene that has unfolded before your very eyes before the words come bubbling out of your parted lips:

"Yes. Yes, always."

He shifts forward, retracting his wings and horns and nudges his head into your lap. "Do not worry, I'll ask you again tomorrow."

"The answer will remain the same, Lucifer." You entangle your fingers in his silky black strands, bending over to press a kiss to the naked skin of his nape. "I would love to go on a date with you."

He smiles then, partially hidden by the turn of his head. If he circles a hand around your waist to trace a vague symbol against your lower spine and doesn't detangle from the heat of your body for the next fifteen minutes, then it's no one's business but yours alone.

Taglist - @w01f2 @bookoffracturedescapes

[cafecourage]

Can I have King! Time trying to find Reader who's hiding from him during a gala?

Any interpretation of this is fine! 🥰🥰

Yes ma’am!! And I’m making this targeted. Love you <3

Author smirks at him, “why not? I’ll be at Prince Sky’s birthday party. Find me and maybe I’ll consider your courtship.” It’s a dare Time couldn’t find himself refusing, with all his life he has never met anyone like the benevolent Author.

The day she came into his life the wheels of his fate started to turn once again. Slowly the day to day grind of his immortal life brightens as he had her to look forward to. Time was quick originally to have the Author as an ally, as he was getting too caught up in government work to help his citizens. He trusts her with his kingdom wholeheartedly.

Which is what led him to this problem to begin with. As a dragon by nature Time was greedy, he wanted to claim Author as a part of his horde and court her offically. Techically he has already put a claim on her, but it was more like a way for the castle's staff to know she had his permission to be in the castle.

But now…. now it's different. Time wants to properly court the human, and while he wasn’t regected outright, he wasn’t given a yes. “Fine.” He finally says after a bit, it wouldn’t be fun now to instantly track you down. After all, he has the whole timeline in his hands to watch. “But as to not make this boring for either of us. I won't use my magic, and limit my dragon sense.”

The Author's face went from confident to confusion, but in the end she went with it. What’s the point of a hunt if it's over in 5 seconds after all?

Honestly he wasn’t going to join the ball for all that long originally. His normal routine would have been to say hello to those he knows and leave to more quieter areas. Then when the party dies down reappears like he has been there the whole time and leaves officially.

This party was also going to be the most chaotic one he has seen so far. With not only Author coming in her civilian form. Time was pretty sure he noticed a familiar witch pass by him.

That wasn’t his problem tonight. He silently just wishes Sky luck as the prince was dragged off. Time turns to scan the crowd now that most if not all guests have arrived. Time couldn’t help but wonder if Author was watching him, waiting to see if he would figure it out.

For once Time didn’t know how to start with this, his sense of smell is limited since the room is full of people and dragons. So it was by vibes and vibes alone. Which he assumed it was the point of all of this game. Moving to the buffet table as he wanted a drink hopeful he can get rid of the small migraine he was suffering from.

He was looking through the crowd only half looking for the Author. The night was still young and he still had time to look for her, he watched as Twilight socializes more with people his age. While even though his Nephew was being tormented by his friends in a slightly polite way but Time was proud of. His gaze shifts to the other people on the sidelines.

Someone catches his attention.

A royal blue he was familiar with flutters and weaves through the crowd almost making a bee line to the balcony. Time’s curiosity peaks as most of the time if someone did that something happened. He put down his wine and head out to follow the lady. Mainly just incase something did happen he could let Sky know. The prince is a no nonsense person so he wouldn’t want anyone to be harassed at his own party.

The cool air was a relief to his small headache, it was nice to have peace and quiet. Time reminded himself he wasn’t here for peace though. He looks around for a second before noticing a small figure in the corner resting on a bench. He wanders over causally as he tries to assess the situation. The Lady doesn’t look hurt, or sad, or angry. She just looked tired. Her dress while Time couldn’t confirm due to poor lighting also looked fine so he could check harassment off for now.

“Mind some company?” He asks gaining the attention of the other guest.

She looks up at him wide eyed before straighten up. “Of course your highness.” She said softly as she moves to the side for him to sit.

“Please don’t worry about formalities.” Time saids as he sits downs “is everything ok?” He asks as that was the reason why he was here.

“No!” She looked panicked a bit “I mean… I’m just tired. I haven’t been to one of these in a while.”

Time hums and looks at the windows into the ballroom. “Understandable. I don’t particularly like these types of events either.” He shrugs “but I am here for my boy and friends. Unfortunately I can’t leave.”

This earns a small laugh from her that made his heart flutter a bit. “I guess even the King needs to let his hair down.” She said looking up at him with a small sparkle in her eyes.

Time’s brain had to reboot itself as he knew this person. He didn’t realize his scent is on her because he was so overloaded from being inside. “May I ask why are you here?” He said not giving away much but his suspicions were growing.

“I was going to meet someone here.” She whispered as if she was worried about something. “But I couldn’t find him.”

“Ah…” That made him feel a bit guilty “I am sorry… for making you wait then.”

“Huh?” They locked eyes, she was in shock while Time couldn’t figure out why. He had already claimed her as apart of his treasure. Courting or not Author was special to Time. He loved her and she helped his kingdom. That realization must of dawned on her. “YOU CHEATED!” She accused him, which made Time burst out into laughter.

[pomplalamoose]

Could we please get some sith luke x reader hc’s?🤞

Me as soon as I saw your ask:

There is in fact nothing that'd make me happier, nonnie!

Sith Luke headcanons were one of the first things I ever wrote for Luke before even creating this blog so I'M SO EXCITED🩵🩵

(check them out here)

• deciding to date Sith Luke is not a choice you should make lightly 

• (if he gives you the chance to anyways)

• depending on where you meet and how you catch his eye, he will either lure you in with his charm, seducing you with all he has

• or, alternatively, just straight up kidnap you 

• once he has acquired you however, there's no chance he'll ever let you out of his clutches again

• he possibly allows you the illusion of free will but know that he's the one holding all the threads 

• just like his father he is a very good manipulator 

• because he doesn't want you to even think about leaving, he likes to twist your mind to get what he wants, to keep you with him 

• you may not have the chance to leave anyways but that doesn't mean he wants you to find out about that in the first place 

• you're supposed to love him with every fiber of your being!

• he's all you have, the center of your universe!

• stay with him and never again will you need or want for anything 

• he will make sure you have it all

• you won't realize the door to your golden cage closing in your face until it's too late

• in the same way he's as fiercely protective as he is possessive 

• you aren't allowed to go anywhere without him by your side 

• and due to his threatening person being always somewhere near it's practically impossible to engage in a normal conversation with someone outside of his immediate family 

• he tends to be wary even of them 

• he doesn't want you to engage too much with others, afraid another man or woman will catch your fancy, no matter if it's in a platonic or romantic way 

• he is the only one you will ever need

• everyone making an effort to come close to you will end up on his radar

• and then they will randomly disappear?

• no, he really can't tell you why all of your new friends keep vanishing like that 

• maybe you should've just listened to him and stayed away 

• there's no one but him who has your best interest in mind after all

• the galaxy is full of unreliable and dangerous people, stay away from them 

• while he enjoys showing you off on his arm, parading you around as his most priced possession and reveling in the way it sparks jealously wherever you appear, he can change his mind about it just as quickly 

• yes, they may take a quick look, but ultimately you are his and his alone to enjoy

• he will make this very clear by always having his hands on you 

• one might rest on your lower back or on the back of your neck 

• maybe he's holding your hand very tightly in his, refusing to let go

• if you want to check out the buffet or step outside to look at the scenery you will simply have to ask (beg) him

• don't worry though, if he's in a decent enough mood it's not hard at all

• cling to his arm and flutter your lashes at him 

• leave a shy kiss on his cheek 

• whisper in his ear 

• he won't be able to deny you anything 

• not when you're so clearly putting on display to whom you belong 

• and to make this even more obvious he'll always leave his marks on you

• if they fade, he'll make sure to re apply them

• he expects you to wear them in the open like jewelry 

• don't you dare covering them up with either make up or clothing 

• Sith Luke is dominant in every single aspect and always, without fail, has to have the last say 

• the more easily you succumb to his will the better

• he may not straight up order you to do things a certain way, but you'll learn fast enough what pleases and displeases him 

• this is not only in regards to how you wear your hair and how you dress but how you behave as well 

• he decides what you do to your hair in the morning, as it's his habit to play with it 

• when he has the time he personally picks your outfit

• if he doesn't you'll have to ask him whether he likes what you choose, sometimes having to change several times until he's finally satisfied 

• he decides what and how you eat and especially enjoys handfeeding you when he's not too busy 

• if you lick his hand extra clean after you are allowed to pick a favorite dessert of yours 

• he expects you to wait for him when he returns to your shared quarters after a hard day, no matter how late it is 

• receive him with open arms 

• tell him how much you missed him 

• cover him in kisses and your affection 

• don't leave his side, follow him wherever he goes 

• offer to take off his shoes for him

• offer to help him change into something more comfortable

• ask him about his day and listen closely 

• stroke his face and be sympathetic as he a answers

• offer to run him a relaxing bath and to wash his hair 

• offer to massage his sore muscles after

• beg for him to hold you close 

✨ slight nsfw content under the cut✨

• as interested as he is in what you're wearing, he likes it most when you're not wearing anything at all

• not only does he enjoy the lovely view but most of all the easy access, that he can have what he craves most at any time 

• drape yourself over his bed clothed in his long black cape like a present for him to unwrap and he's more than eager to fulfill every wish you might have 

• but be careful, you might not be always alone with him as he often tends to have visitors over 

• don't you dare let yourself be seen in any state of dress until he specifically asks you to join them

• he likes watching you take a shower and does so regularly 

• for once he won't tell you what to do, instead leaning back and drinking in your wet and soapy body

• he'll sometimes ask you to turn a certain way so he can get a better view though 

• maybe a shampoo bottle will slip from your grasp, you'll have to bend down to retrieve it 

• oh, it happened again? You really are a little clumsy today

[ppushable]

of course we'll be okay

jean kirschtein x fem reader / longfic / chapter wc: 11.1k

6 - knight in shining armour

masterlist

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more gore this chapter - zombie crushing, if ur into that

cringe warning too. but you guys are used to it. onward...

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“Should we wake them up?”

“Yeah. Hey, wake up.”

A familiar ceiling hangs above me. 

“Are you… awake?” The mattress jolts as something hard lands beside me.

“Gah!” Jean shrieks into my ear. 

Levi was right. Hange was right. Miche was right. Why the hell did I do this to myself? 

“What the hell, Yay-gurr?”

Yaygurr? Oh, is that Jaeger? Jaeger, now where have I seen that word before?

“Rise and shine, Kirschtein.”

“I hate you so fucking much give me—” Jean’s voice muffles— “five more minutes leave me alone.” I couldn’t have said it better myself. 

“That’s not yours, Kirschtein.”

“Ossie, get up. Jean’s drooling all over your pillow.”

Are they talking to me? 

“Eren, what do we do?”

“Maybe we should leave them. Levi can come to wake them up.”

“Three minutes,” my pillow says, making a funny vibration. I didn’t know it could do that. It feels smoother than usual, and… fluffy. Fluffy like hay-coloured hair. Funny…  

My eyes peel open on their own. 

Fluffy, hay-coloured hair. Eyes screwed shut. 

That’s… the head of Jean. That’s my hand in it. My hand comes off. His eyes slide open. 

Stupidly, I sit up quick and face the blood-draining repercussion. “What time is it?” I seethe through clenched teeth as the world goes darker than it already is and my brain melts into a dark sludge. 

“Like, five-o-five. Dirk is gonna start wondering if you guys don’t get up.” 

Five?!

“Fuuuuck this,” Jean mutters behind me. “Ugh.” He shifts and his knee hits mine. “Uuuugh.” He sucks in a deep breath. “This pillow fucking stinks.”

“Hey!” I fumble for the pillow and seize the soft cloth before swiping it out from underneath him. “That’s mine!”

He doesn’t move as his head smacks the mattress. 

“He’s always like this,” Mikasa calls, already halfway down the ladder. “Let’s just go, he’ll catch up.”

“Sweet dreams, Kirschtein,” Eren smirks. “Let’s go, Ossie.”

His dim, static form disappears from view as I descend the ladder after Eren. 

Lucky bastard. 

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It’s a little cool outside and the sun’s only starting to come out, dark blues and whites smudging with red in the way it does in the sky. The air is still crisp and damp from the night, battered between the downy wings of mourning doves that coo in solemnity from the dewey rooftops and shifting branches. They don’t dare land on the ground, where the slog toils.  

The four of us stand in a line, Eren, Mikasa, Jean, and I, watching the man in front of us squat and diddle with the dirt. If you can call trying not to fall over “standing.” I shift my weight of the soft and damp soil that won’t stop shifting like a tempest beneath my feet and it strikes me that this is the man from earlier that was yelling and stomping his feet at Shadis. How brave. An inspiration. Truly. 

“Uh. Mr. Dirk?” Eren ventures, nearly drowned out by a sudden flock of small birds that buffet the air above us. “We’re here.”

When he doesn’t respond, Jean speaks up. “Mr. Dirk!”

“Eh?” He raises his head, obscuring brushed-back brown hair under a green sun hat (worn for decorative purposes, apparently), and looks around in every direction before looking behind him. “Oh, you guys the helpers? Geez, you look like hell.”

Four pairs of eyes land on me at once.

Jean clears his throat. “Yeah—”

“Is that all Levi sent?” he continues, blatantly cutting Jean off. “I got more last time…”

Eren squinches his eyes. “He’ll probably—” Dirk sniffles and wipes his nose with a gloved hand, getting dirt on his upper lip— “send in more later.”

“Alright. Well, you guys can get started on, uh. That.” He waves offhandedly at a pile of fence boards, the thin mucous line on his finger gleaming in the weak rays. “Just build it up. Tell the others to, uh, weed the dirt over there if they come.” He sniffs again and spends a few seconds wiggling his nose and baring his teeth. “Yeah, thanks.”

Jean scowls, mirroring Eren’s expression. I meet Mikasa’s eyes. “Okay,” she says, and with that the four of us make our way to the pile of wood. 

“Dirk didn’t lie.” Eren matches my pace, long legs making slower footsteps. “Did you get any sleep last night?” 

“I just had a rough time falling asleep.”

He nods. “Yeah, I get it.” He raises his voice in a let’s-get-to-business way. “Anyways. Dirk doesn’t like to explain things. He probably wants us to build another garden bed with these boards.” In a neat row up ahead are the other garden beds, large, rectangular boxes that hold dirt in them like haphazard planters. “Most of the time we guess what he wants and it’s good enough.”

“It’s easy,” Mikasa adds quietly behind her (dry) scarf, and I gingerly lean forward to hear her better. “You put in the stakes at each corner and take the flat boards.” Her voice is so soft. “You nail in the boards to the stakes.”

“Oh, okay.” Yeah, I definitely got all of that. 

“Easy,” Jean snorts. “Makes you wonder why the guy doesn’t do it himself. Or just plant them in the ground.” 

“Don’t let him hear you,” Eren says, “he’ll throw another temper tantrum.” 

This makes Jean scoff as he grabs the damp-darkened end of a board. Eren takes the other end and together they line it up with the garden bed already built before dropping it to get another. Mikasa beckons and I watch as she takes a long, wooden stake and a sledgehammer and lines up the tapered end near the far end of the board the boys just put down. 

In an easy movement her sledgehammer is raised above her head and swings down right on top of the pole to drill it into the ground. Again. The vibrations land in my feet and stop when only around three-quarters of the stake is left visible. “Hoo.” She turns and wipes off her forehead, signature forehead hair strand springing back into position when her hand moves away. “Try it. There’s another hammer there.” 

Me? Bad idea. By now the rest of the boards have been set up in a neat rectangular shape on the ground like a chalk outline and the boys both have their own stakes to hammer in. “Okay.” 

The closest stake lies in a red-blue puddle. No point in trying to keep my hands clean, I guess. The ice-hot water ripples when my fingertips break the surface, distorting the sky behind the image of my reflection. Funny. I find the hammer Mikasa was referring to leaning against a finished garden bed, its handle just as damp and slightly gritty, and just like her, I line up the sharp edge of the stake with the last available corner. 

Line it up, raise… my first swing clips off the edge. The second lands. The third… it’s getting harder to lift up. Whack — my hand slips a little down the handle with every jolt, but the stake is smooth and splinter-free — whack. A crisp, hollow crack. 

I step back to admire my work. The stake sticks up at a slight angle and when I push it straight it slops back down again. 

“All done?” Eren had snuck up behind me. “Good, now we can get the wall boards on. Here.” He holds out a fist. Raising an eyebrow, I bump it, and he shakes it. “No, like here. I’m gonna give you something.”

“Oh.” I jut my hand underneath and he drops in a few mildly rusty nails. I’ll take that killer bee sting now. I close my eyes for a few seconds: a mockery of true slumber. Wish I was sleeping. 

“Uh, look what Mikasa and Jean are doing.” Begrudgingly, I peel my eyes open to Eren’s voice. “They’re nailing in the boards to the stakes. The walls have to be three boards high. Can you do it?”

Can I do it. “Sure, Eren.”

He nods and briefly returns my smile before ducking down to one of the stakes. “Line the other end up, and we can nail them in.”

I nod and drop to my knees a little too hard, moisture seeping through the cloth of my pants. Is this really the same boy that vowed to destroy all of the zombies? When the wood is pressed flush against the stakes he purses his lips as he aligns a nail and bends sideways to carefully tap it in until the tip is embedded far enough for the nail to stick out on its own. He shifts back, nearly falls over, regains his balance, and continues to hit it. Crazy how those two scenarios can fit into the same body. Maybe he has a split personality, because now he doesn’t look like that spitting psychopath anymore. Just… normal. 

“So, uh, Mikasa,” Jean’s saying as I hurry up to put in some nails (Eren’s already on his second). “You got any pla— ahuhm. You wanna do something later?” He sticks his forearm up weirdly against the top of a stake as if to lean on it but it just looks uncomfortable. “I found a pretty cool spot.”

“The basement isn’t cool.” Jean’s face falls at her answer. She didn’t even look up at him. 

“No— this time it’s really— nice. It’s nice.”

Mikasa’s weary eyes meet my own. “Let’s switch spots.”

I blink dumbly as Jean struggles to unstick a fiber from his sleeve from the jagged wood edge of the stake. “Wait, hold on…” She ignores him.

“Sure, if that’s… okay…” I look at Eren and he shrugs. 

Mikasa steps in between us and when I stand she puts her steely hands on my shoulders and gets close, not letting me inch away. “Don’t let him…” her brow furrows and she bites her lip in an image of fleeting frustration, “compliment your hair.”

“Oh,” I say, neck sticking back at a weird angle. Is that supposed to be a hidden message? I don’t get her at all. “Okay.” Is she trying to warn me because she’s being nice? Is she over the scarf thing? “Sure.” 

She pushes me back a little before letting go. “Now go.”

Yeah, she’s not over the scarf thing. I mutter an “okay” before taking myself to the side of the garden bed with Jean in it. He’s wrapping the unravelled string hanging from his arm around his knuckles and snaps it off with a small grunt. “Jaeger,” he starts. 

“Back to work,” the boy responds over the sounds of mine and Mikasa’s hammers. “I’m not switching with you.”

Jean doesn’t say anything and I almost stop to look up. I don’t know enough around here to not look stupid all the time. Can’t wait for the day to be over. 

Eren starts hammering, and eventually Jean. Unlike with Eren, I can feel every strike of his hammer to the bone whenever I happen to have my fingers on the board. Wham, wham, wham. He’s doing it way too hard; every contact makes my head want to explode. 

The funny part is how Eren seems to be hammering harder, too.

“Are you done yet?” Jean snaps, his words more jarring than any hammer strike. 

My pulse meets my throat; the nails in my hand fall to the dirt. “What?” Fuck, that scared me. He’s right behind me. 

“Of course.”

I blink, sticky-eyed, and pull myself up. His sour look doesn’t falter until I push the metal head of my hammer hard into his chest, hard enough to satisfy a little part of me, hard enough to make him step back. “Leave me alone. I’m tired.”

“You’re tired?” he grunts. “We just started, how could you be tired?”

“What are you, my boss?” Chunks of dirt push under my fingernails.  

“Huh?”

Well, fuck, he called it now. “You’re not my boss—” the hammer nearly crushes our feet when it falls out of my hands — oops — “so leave me alone.” 

“What? What the hell are you on about?” Not this again. I don’t want him to talk again. I don’t want to do it again. “This is about—”

“Just!” Too loud. “Honestly, Jean, I don’t care anymore. Please don’t bother me until the week is over. We agreed on it. I really don’t wanna talk to you until then.”

Jean perks up with a new vigour. “And—”

“One—” I jut a finger between his eyebrows and he shrinks back— “week. We agreed, didn’t we, but you’re still here bugging me. What is wrong with you?” Eren and Mikasa are not hammering anymore and I feel the heat rising. “What’s wrong with him? Did he get dropped as a baby? Is that why his head’s like that?”

They stare over the half-finished wall like meerkats. “Yeah,” Eren grins, “probably.”

“I can’t believe I got stuck with you again. How does anyone even stand you? You’re arrogant and thoughtless and your breath stinks and your voice is too loud and your hair is dumb—”

Like reflex Jean’s hand flies into the bed of hay glued to his reddening head. “My hair is not dumb! And you know what, I may be all those things, but at— at least I have some value!”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I swipe the hammer off the ground and when I get back up the ground tilts. “Wh— why don’t you man up—” I point the hammer at the dark smudge on his chest from last time and it begins to sag under the weight of itself— “and say what you mean?”

He hesitates, then, “no.” Smirks. “You’re sad. I’d break your poor little heart. You might forget everything again.”

“Then I’ll be happy until I have the displeasure of meeting you again.” 

The hammer slips out of my hand again and this time Jean suddenly yelps and doubles down. 

Oops. 

“What’s wrong?” I cover my mouth so Eren and Mikasa can’t see and I can feel my pulse through my hand and in my brain, synchronized, accelerating. “Why don’t you get to work? Kirschtein?” I clamp down on my tongue. “Tired already?”

“Jesus, Ossie,” Eren says. 

I poke his head. “Come on, Kirschtein. What are you, a burden? Can you even run a mile?”

“Go fuck yourself.” 

“Nothing else to say?”

“Shut up.”

I straighten. “I guess I have to do this board all by myself.” I wrap my fingers around a cold slice of wood and shove it toward the half-finished bed. “Hey, your body’s in the way. Better get up.”

He shoots me a glare that might kill a small woodland creature before unfolding to his full height, limp-stepping to the other side of the board, and taking the other end. Together, we push it against the stakes. I grab my hammer and we get to work. 

Wham, crack, wham…

The repetitive movement, that chorus of strikes rippling through my body. The rhythm loses me in its meaningless comfort, cool sweat on my brow. It fades. 

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“Hello, everyone!”

I know that voice. Looks like Jean does, too, the way he suddenly stiffens. Like a deer in the headlights. Like something’s wrong. 

“Oh, hi, Ms. Kirschtein,” Eren says to the distance behind me. I push my hammer’s head against the soil as I turn to look. 

And here she is, dirt-smudged (already?) and coming at us with a basket that she holds against the side of her tan, long apron-skirt with a plaid pink frill. Wonderful. We meet eyes — eye contact is strange, if you think about it — and she hits me with that joyous quirk of the mouth.  

“Hi, Ms. Kirshtein,” Mikasa echoes. 

“Hi.” I smile back. “Ms. Kirschtein.” I’m abusing your son. And then the guilt rolls in. 

He’s going to tell her. He’s going to tell her I dropped a hammer on his foot and she’s gonna hate me forever oh stupid why did I do that why did I let my temper go I should’ve controlled—

“How is everyone this morning?” 

Mikasa stands. “We’re good.” 

“I just wanted to stop by to drop off some of…” she bats aside the lid of her basket with the back of her hand, wicker scraping as it lifts, and dives in, “these.” Like a magician she brandishes a small, apple-coloured ball. Shaped like an apple, too. 

Eren perks up at the sight. “Woah, is that an apple?”

Well. 

Mirabel sports a chillingly familiar half-smirk at the reaction and hands it off to Eren as he approaches. 

“Wow,” Mikasa breathes. Even Jean spares a glance over his shoulder. Just barely, but he does. 

“Ms. Kirschtein…” Eren walks over to her and is handed one of the round fruits. He cups it in both hands and stand around it like it’s made of gold. “How— thank you.”

She chuckles. “You’re welcome, dear.” Mirabel sticks her hand in the basket again and starts walking over this way, stained white shoes peeking out from underneath her dress every few steps. “I brought enough for everyone to have one.” She stops and holds one out in front of me. It’s shiny. On its crown, underneath the dead-black leaf perched on its stem, is a small bruise. The whole thing is covered in tiny black speckles like ducks or geese or something against a gradient red-yellow sky. It’s not very impressive, but… it’s for me. You really shouldn’t have done that. I’m being an asshole to your son. 

“For you, Mikasa…” 

I should’ve wiped my hands or something. Now there’s worm poop on it. It’s okay, though, Mirabel might slap it out of my hands. 

“And here’s one for you, Jean-bo.”

Ever so carefully, I curl the fruit into my sweater pocket. It bulges out. 

Finally Jean speaks. “What are you doing here?” 

I look up. He’s joking, right? That’s no way to talk to your mother. 

“Well, I just wanted to drop these off. And I know how much you love apples, Jean…”

The growing storm on his face must have caused her to trail off like that. “Yeah, well I don’t want them!” He goes to push away her offering, but too quickly; it tumbles and falls in an arc out of her grip. 

Did he just—

“Whoops!” It lands on the ground somewhere near me. 

I know he’s an asshole. Yes. But to do that to his mother, Mirabel fucking Kirschtein, the sweetest woman I know, the woman that treats me with nothing but kindness. Is there something I’m missing? Is she beating him in secret or something? Or do I need to drop another hammer on his foot, except on his head?

“What the hell,” Eren grumbles next to me before scooping it up. His eyes blaze with an emerging glint of light as the sun drags up. “What was that for?”

Jean’s hand is still outstretched from when he — I’m assuming — knocked the fruit out of Mirabel’s hand. His mother’s hand. Without a morsel of remorse on his face. “Whatever. It was an accident.”

“Accident my ass.” Eren either doesn't see or doesn’t notice Jean rolling his eyes. “Are you okay, Ms. Kirschtein?”

“Nothing to worry about,” she says a little too brightly, quickly, before putting her hand over Eren’s that holds the extra apple. “Please make sure this gets to Jean-bo.”

“Uh. Yeah.” He’s biting his tongue. “Of course.”

“Thank you, everyone, for being friends with—”

Jean clenches his hair. “Just get out of here!”

Marco, why?

“Everyone, I hope you have a good day.” The words almost spill out on top of each other and it’s just sad now as Mirabel pays us each her goodbye — a pat on the arm for Mikasa, a shoulder tap for Eren, a hand on the head for me. “I—” she stops in front of Jean. “I’ll see everyone later.” She slips away. 

Eren, apples still in hand, hovers over Jean. “Mind telling us, once again, what the hell is wrong with you?” he snaps as soon as she’s gone. “She’s your mom, for Christs’ sake!”

“Mind your own business, would you?”

“Wh—” 

“Shut up, okay?” Jean rises to his feet and throws his hands up, suddenly appearing much larger. “Are we gonna do this thing—” he waves at the nearly-finished bed— “or not?”

“Jean.” Though quiet, Mikasa’s voice commands the confrontation. “Don’t you know how lucky you are?”

That makes him stop. It all goes flat — like Jean really is lucky. Like Eren and Mikasa don’t have what he has. I guess I don’t, either. 

“Whatever,” he finally blurts, ducking down to the ground. “She’s gone anyways. Doesn’t matter.” 

“Stand up, Kirschtein.” Eren speaks in a gravelly low, peals of danger squeezing through his teeth. 

Freezing in mid-squat, Jean snaps, “what’s your problem?”

Eren looks around, then back at me. “Here.” He shoves both apples in my direction and my hands grab them quickly because it looks like his patience is running terribly thin. He doesn’t stop; in one smooth movement he grasps the front of Jean’s shirt. His fist is soon covered by Jean’s as he snaps to attention and my organs sink through each other. 

“Get your dirty little—”

“I said stand up!” Eren shoves his opponent onto his feet, voice carrying throughout the garden, shoes skidding on dirt. My feet freeze to the dirt and mud, my blood coagulating into something similar, piling in my head, pulse. His fingers flex where his hand rests near his thigh, ready to swing. “You bastard!”

Jean’s eyebrows go sad but his face stays wired in a snarl. Eren suddenly stumbles back as if pushed. 

Something flat touches my shoulder, pumping my veins with more lead, but it’s just Mikasa. She pulls me back to face her. “You should stay back.”

“Auch!” Jean yelps. “Fucker! Ah!”

Bodies tumble to the ground behind me but I’m fixed standing here, staring at Mikasa. 

“Stop smiling at me like that.” 

Oh. I stop smiling. It makes my face feel better, at least. “Do they,” I point at the writhing duo just as Jean buries his fist in Eren’s stomach, “do they do that a lot?”

“Yes.” She takes her hand off my shoulder and looks around. “Don’t worry. It always ends before Eren gets hurt. Just wait it out.”

Okay, Mikasa. Reassuring. 

“I’ll— fucking— kill…”

Eren finds some kind of leverage and slams Jean between the ground and the newly-finished garden bed. It rattles under their weight. We built it pretty strong! “You really don’t know how lucky you are, do you?!”

“Get off my dick for once!” Jean heaves, pulling them both off of the planks and onto the ground. Both grunt. “You just can’t keep to yourself, can you?” He bares his teeth, painting a harrowing portrait of a horse. “You piss me off!”

Eren graces his statement with a loud throat noise and smashes his head against Jean’s. Both detach from themselves and splay on the ground. 

Mikasa dashes forward, an uttered “Eren?” her only warning before hooking her hands underneath his armpits and damn near lifting him to her height. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“If you’d let go of me—” 

“Eren, how many fingers am I holding— how many fingers is she holding up?” She swivels on the spot, pointing the dazed gladiator in my direction. “Hold up your fingers!”

“Uh.” I put up three fingers on one of my hands, though he probably can’t see it behind the apple I’m still holding. 

“I don’t have a concussion, let me go.”

By the time I figure out that I can turn my hand around so my fingers are in front of the fruit, Eren’s already freed himself from Mikasa’s grip. “I’m fine,” he says, rubbing the crown of his head under mousy hair. “Can’t say the same for horseface over there.”

‘Horseface over there’ is on his hands and knees. Mikasa seems far too occupied with Eren to care, and Eren just doesn’t. 

I don’t really want to, either. My teeth pinch the inside of my mouth and I have to stop myself from biting. This is for Mirabel. This is for Marco. This is not for Jean. 

I put the boys’ apples in my pocket and take the apple Mikasa dropped on the ground before preparing myself. 

“Jean?” Silence. “Jean, are you…” I try to siphon a smidge of sympathy into my tone as I inch toward him, “okay?” 

“Fuck off.”

“Okay.” I tried. If he’s suffering, he can do it alone. 

“Stop— stop that! Leave me alone. Mikasa.”

“Eren, how old are you?”

“Stop it, okay?” Eren stomps next to me. “Let’s go finish the job, Ossie.” Then, venomously, “Don’t bother with him.” There’s a tender, red spot blooming on the right side of his face. “What?” 

I shake my head and walk back to avoid his scathing gaze. Maybe I should give him the hammer next. 

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

“Hiii. Ossie. Wake up.”

My feet are covered in mud.

“Open up, okay? Sleepy Joee… Here comes the choo-choo…”

Sasha. You’re a gift. Even at this table full of people you still concern yourself with me. I shut my eyes. 

“Oye!” Someone smacks my back and I recoil like a loaded spring, unsticking my head from the cafeteria table. “Huh!”

“Connie, what is wrong with you?” Sasha tuts. “Come on, eat this soup so we’ll be nice and full of nutrients! Eh? Aaaa.”

I open my mouth but take the spoon as she dips it in. “Mmph.”

“Good?”

I shoot her a thumbs-up and pry the utensil out of my mouth. Our apples are long gone, and they were delicious. Sasha ate hers before meeting with the rest of us, core and all. God only knows where Mirabel got a hold of them, because from what I’m told, most fruits are more or less nonexistent. 

It’s a real shame that Jean’s too much of a mule to take his. I turn the last apple remaining around in my pocket, polish it. He’s sulking, food untouched, holding up his head in a way that covers the big red spot on his forehead and looking at everything except the people sitting around the table. 

Beside him Marco sports this crooked grin as he swallows some of his own nondescript slop. “Hey, you got a mark on your forehead.” He runs a finger in a crisscross pattern across his own, spoon dangling from hand. 

Sure enough, I can feel the grooves when I touch it — it’s from the table. “Oh.” 

“You look like a roast chicken, Ossie.”

“Thanks, Sasha.” 

“These tables are killers, man,” Connie groans, lifting his arms to reveal the crisscross pattern beneath. “I got my fingers stuck once.”

I don’t let my grin get too big. “Really?” 

“I remember that!” Marco covers his mouth as he swallows. “I had to pull your hand out for you.”

The buzzcut cradles his knuckles. “Damn near pulled my fingers off, too.” 

“You need to be a special kind of idiot to do something like that,” Sasha scoffs. 

“I was a victim, okay?” Connie cries. “I wasn’t trying to get stuck.”

“Hey, remember that, Jean?” Marco nudges his friend with his shoulder. “When you had to pour baby oil all over Connie’s hand?”

He rolls his eyes, muttering a quiet “don’t remind me.”

“And we had class next, so we had to run.” Marco leans forward on his arms and turns to Jean again. “Man, isn’t that what we have next now?”

He nods. 

How does one like Jean even befriend Marco, let alone be best friends? They’re immensely different. Marco has feelings. 

“I wonder what he’s gonna yap about today,” Connie sighs. “Oh, did we tell you yet, Ossie? We still have to do school and stuff. Even though there’s a literal zombie apocalypse. Isn’t that bullshit?”

“Education is important, Connie,” Marco sighs, running his palm on top of his head. 

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

“Attention!” 

The classroom clamour simmers to a hush as the teacher announces his entry and carries his bald head to the whiteboard. A familiar bald head. A spine-chilling bald. 

“It’s Shadis?” I hiss to Sasha sitting beside me, idly sipping a Five Alive juice box. 

She looks up through her lashes, a fleeting image of innocence. “Huh? Oh.” The juice straw is revealed to be completely chewed up when she unlocks her jaw and pulls it out of her grinning mouth. “Yeah, apparently he’s, like, a certified elementary teacher.”

Shadis? Certified to teach some fourth graders algebra, no less? “You’re kidding.”

Lips pursed, she shrugs exaggeratedly. “I’ve never seen him around kids—”

“Braus! Anything to share?”

“No sir!”

Shadis — Shadis! — clears his throat. “Today, class,” he begins in a stiff, teacherly tone, turning his back to write on the board, “we will be learning about causes of the first world war. Before we start.” He looks back at us, grouped around the same kind of folding tables Hange had in their room. On each one is a large sheet of chart paper and a marker. Ours is dark blue and scented. “Does anyone have any questions?”

If I squint, I can see a classroom in here: big windows facing the outside with abstract sticker decals, hanging fluorescents (switched off, of course), walls painted light blue. But it’s too empty, too formal, to be anything normal. Too sleek. There’s not enough furniture. Not enough grease. 

Connie stifles a giggle across from me for god knows what reason this time. 

“Something to add, Springer!” Shadis yells at Connie’s back. 

“No sir!” he calls back without turning. 

“Okay, then.” He points at the word on the board — MAIN. “Now.” There’s a thin, telltale waver in his voice.

“Hey, Ossie, look.” Connie grins and slips a little square piece of origami at me. Folded frog. He pushes down on its worn-down back end and slips his finger off, making it spring through the air before landing on its feet near Marco’s end of the table, directly left of me. He quickly cups his hand over it so Shadis won’t see, smacking his ring loudly against the table in the process. Connie giggles, prompting another scathing over-the-shoulder glance.

“Something to share, Springer?” 

This time he turns around, putting both hands on the back of the padded metal chair. “It was him!” 

“I don’t want to hear any more from you.”

“But—”

“Springer! Face the front.”

Now it’s Sasha’s turn to chortle and bump into me as her best friend grumbles, turning his seat so his back is to us. 

“Now, does anyone know what the M stands for? Christa?”

Connie’s chair clashes with the one beside him — the one Jean sits on. He clicks his tongue, but keeps drawing in his sketchpad. What is he drawing?

“Militarism.”

“Very good!”

Chewing on his lip, Jean darts a quick look across the room, back at his notebook, and then back at the same spot behind me. Then he looks at me. 

“Militarism or the arms race was a very big contributor to the rising tensions between the countries of Europe.” Chalk clicks against the board. “The competition to have the best army escalated the situation…” something small drops near the front “… greatly.”

I narrow my eyes. Who’s he looking at? I twist in my chair. There’s Eren, Armin… Mikasa? When I look back he has that killer glare on. 

“How about the A? Any idea what that stands for?”

Jean snaps his sketchpad shut. It’s small enough for him to fit in his front pants pocket, but he has to lean back and sort of shimmy it in. 

“Anyone other than Christa?”

Marco puts the frog in his fist before raising it. 

“Yes, Marco.”

“Is it…” his Adam’s apple bobs up. “Aggression?”

“No, but good guess. Anyone else?” 

He pouts and gives me a small shrug before tossing the frog in front of me. It’s a cute little thing with drawn-on googly eyes. Wonder who made it. I put its worn paper rump under my finger and flip it just like Connie did, landing it near Jean, who narrows his eyes at me. My growing smile fades. He jerks his head at Marco.

Huh?

Seemingly frustrated, he waves me off. 

“A. It stands for alliances. The forming of alliances like the Triple Entente and the Triple Alliance increased tensions. It meant that a fight could quickly escalate into a big war.”

Jean leans back in his chair and mutters something to Connie. A moment later, the bald boy puffs in failed subtlety and stares at me before Jean swats him. 

I take back the frog. Something’s happening.

“Next? Anyone?”

Jean’s eyes wander back to the table of three. 

Mikasa raises her hand. 

“Ackerman.”

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

“Yes,” he sighs. “Anyone else? Christa.”

I watch Jean’s eyes trail to the door like a lost puppy and flip the frog. 

Shadis sighs. “Imperialism. Colonization was happening everywhere. This is important because it puts a strain on resources and influence.”

The frog lands upside down on Marco’s leg. I can get it if I reach under his arm, but he starts bouncing his leg and the frog hops and slides down the slippery denim slope. No! 

Just in time, I trap the frog against the side of Marco’s thigh by smacking it. 

“Uh?” The shaking stops. 

The inside. The inside of his thigh. 

“Uh, Ossie?” 

My neck dampens. You fucking idiot! Move!

In an unceremonious motion I swipe the frog and dump it onto the table. Wow, I wonder what Shadis is teaching us? World War I? Fascinating! I’ve never been so interested! He’s a natural teacher! Fuck me! I just can’t seem to take my eyes off of him! Neither can Jean, it seems, from me! What’s his problem now?

The table wobbles and jitters for a moment, then stops, the source of the movement coming from under Marco’s spot. 

“Lastly, there’s nationalism. Everyone thought they were the best.” Shadis sniffs. “I want you all in groups. Upup!” he yells when chairs start squeaking. “I’m choosing them. Not you. Sit down.”

Chairs screech again as their owners rescind their actions. 

“Now.” He sifts through a binder on the table, finds a page, looks at us, then back at the page. Scribbles something. “I’m calling the groups out, so find yourselves and sit together. Jaeger, Armin, Springer.”

Uh oh. Connie and Sasha groan. 

“Ymir, Christa, Hoover.”

Who? I still have a chance with Sasha, right? Or Marco? No, wait, I don’t want that. Do I?

“Annie, Braun, Braus.”

Oh fuck. 

“Marco, Kirschtein—” and I swear to god he pauses— “Ostrich.”

Sasha and Connie leave to find their respective groups, dropping the temperature at our table by a few degrees. Oh, Shadis.

He suddenly looks up behind us. “Oh, Ackerman, you’re back.”

A door shuts. 

“Just join Marco’s group. Actually.” As he thinks, he stands perfectly still. “Partner up with Marco. I don’t want a group of four.”

“Okay,” Mikasa says. “Let’s sit over there.” 

“Uh, sure.” Marco shoots us a final apologetic look before leaving. 

Well, there’s fifty percent of the problem.

“I’m giving you one of the four points in MAIN. In your groups, you need to expand on your point with regards to important figures, events, agreements, anything, in bullet-point fashion.”

Tentatively, I look at my partner. He’s twirling the thick marker in his fingers. 

“There’s books up here and paper on your desks. I’ll tell you your topic when you get up here. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir!” 

Jean puts the marker down and levels me with his eyes. “I’ll get the book.”

I nod. This is going to go great, I can smell it. I run my hands along the cool chart paper. No, this will go fine. Am I leaving sweat marks on the paper? I rub my hands on my knees. Why am I like this?

“We have nationalism.” The table rattles as Jean tosses on a textbook. “Do you have good handwriting?”

It could be worse. It could be someone I don’t know. “Uh… I don’t know.”

He frowns. “How… nevermind. Just try writing something and we’ll see.”

Write? “Write what?” 

The marker comes skittering toward me and I catch it against my stomach just before it falls off the ledge of the table. “Just write something. Don’t tell me you’re illiterate.”

I guess that was a stupid question. So I pop off the cap (blueberry scented, not bad), adjust my grip, and swipe the surprisingly intact tip on the paper without thinking much of it. Just muscle memory. 

Don't tell me you’re illiterate. 

The swoops and edges of the letters flutter like flags on the sheet. Since when was that my writing? I’ve never seen it before. Are you sure that’s your handwriting, Ostrich Jarman?

“Well, that’s better than mine,” Jean grunts. “You gonna help me or what?”

Whatever. I sidle out of my chair and place myself in Connie’s still-warn one next to him after turning it to face the table, away from Shadis. 

“Nationalism,” he mutters. He flips through the pages a few at a time, stopping every once in a while to mouth the words he’s reading. Yeah, sure glad I can help, Jean. 

On the table in front of us are Marco and Mikasa, heads together over the book as they read. Every once in a while Marco nods and reaches out to jot something down. They work so synchronously together. Well, it is Marco, after all — anyone who can deal with a guy as difficult as Jean probably knows how to work with people. Kids, too.

“Earth to Ostrich.” Jean’s hand waves past my head, its owner sporting a somehow bored yet annoyed look. “You gonna help or just stare at Marco the whole time?”

“I’m not staring at him,” I say, a little too quick, a little too harsh. 

“Yeah, can you write this down?”

His dry-looking finger ends on a wall of text with the heading Country Pride. “That’s an entire paragraph.”

“That’s crazy!” Connie yells for whatever reason from across the room. 

Jean shrugs. I sigh. “Alright.” Guess he’s done enough for today. I can get the main points out of this while he goes and jacks himself off or something. I’ll start with the definition and work from there. 

Blueberries and alcohol fill my nose, navy strokes on white dizzying my head. Copy, copy, paraphrase. What does this mean? What are its effects to society? How?

When I pull myself out, Jean is in his own daze, staring half-asleep across the room. 

“And I’m the one staring at Marco.”

He jumps a little, as if startled, and rolls his eyes. I hope they fall out. “I was just zoning out.”

“Do you have a crush on him?”

“Huh?!”

I shrug, scanning my handiwork. I don’t know a thing about Jean, but it seems possible for him. 

“No. No, I don’t. Don’t even bring that up again.”

I smile. “How come you keep looking over there?”

My question is met only with a scoff. Now Marco’s bent over the table to reach the farther parts of the paper. Reaching further, straining… He stands up to reach further. 

“If anything, it’s you that’s obsessed with him.”

The blood in my chest warms. “No way.” 

“I see the way you look at him.”

“Like a friend? Well, I guess you wouldn’t know.”

He frowns. “Very funny.” 

I follow his gaze back to Marco’s table. He wasn’t lying to me, was he? What a ridiculous question. He would tell me that he was my secret half-brother for a potato chip. Maybe he really is into Marco, from the way he bugged us back when Marco was gun training me. But Jean’s always like that, even when we were doing the garden beds with Eren and Mikasa. 

Mikasa?

Oh. 

Oh!

I’m pretty stupid! 

“Why are you smiling like that?” 

I cover my grin. This is so immature. “Are you in love with Mikasa?”

Immediately after the words hit a bloom of red erupts under his cheeks like he was hit by a paintball and he sits up as if electrically shocked. “No!” Then, carefully, “stop asking me dumbass questions.”

“It’s okay, I won’t tell.”

“I’m not—”

“I promise you I won’t tell.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” A piece of chart paper crumples under his palm. “Except maybe your lust for Marco.”

“Lust?” If only I could laugh away embarrassment. “Really? Because you’re so innocent about Mikasa.”

“You didn’t deny it.”

“Neither did you.”

In a stunning act of brilliance, we shut each other up. I try to say something. 

“Two minutes!” calls Shadis, ghosted by a trace of his usual bellow. 

Jean plays with his jaw. “How’s the thing going?” 

“I think it should be okay, I got almost everything on the page…” Is it worth the effort to argue with Jean about my perceived feelings right now? “How strict is Shadis?”

He scans the page: the word NATIONALISM in all caps at the top, assorted bullet points going down the page in two rows. “He’s fine. I think. Well, we’re done.”

What was that? Oh, you’re very welcome! Thanks for being such a supportive group member. Now we can simmer in silence as I flip through the waxy pages of this lobotomy-inducingly boring history textbook and you stare at your impossible love. 

It’s hard to explain, but the thought of those two together makes my skin crawl. Jean’s probably thinking the same thing about me and Marco. Jokes on him. 

“Kay.” Shadis claps once, one of those dry, airy claps you get by cupping your hands in a certain way. “Wrap it up. I want everyone’s papers up front. Return the textbooks, too.” 

“Right.” Jean’s voice is small amidst the sound of scraping chairs. “I got the paper.”

I nod and take the textbook, and we both get out of our seats. The front of the room is mostly obscured by a crowd; Jean rolls ahead as I linger. Did everyone come up here at once? Bum, bum, bum, goes my fingertips against the cover of the book, a tiny horse galloping its pitted and barren terrain. All alone, tiny horse. 

“Uhm.”

The voice slinks through my spine, electrifying the skin laid above; the spit I’m swallowing comes back up and touches the dry parts. Poorly suppressing a cough, I look up behind me. 

“Oh. Hey, sorry.” Bertholdt tries to chuckle. He really does look bad. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m—” I cough again, damn it, he didn’t give me a lot of room to recover— “I’m fine. Sorry. Just surprised me.” I smile. 

“Right, um.” He purses his lips and stares at something behind me. “I just wanted to say— apologize. I wanted to apologize. If I was being pretty weird back then.” His eyes don’t stop for a minute. “Back when we first met, technically, for you at least. Uhm.” He clears his throat. “So, sorry. I was just pretty tired, that’s all.” The statement ends with a small rolling chuckle, which I return.

“No, it’s fine, we were all— I mean, I don’t really think about it. Not that you’re not, uh…” Oh god, what have I set myself up for? “Not that you’re unimportant or anything. It’s just that I don’t care.” Jesus. “I mean, I don’t not care about you. I just don’t care if you acted weird.” My smile turns pleading. “If that makes sense—”

“No, no, I definitely get it. Thanks.” He clears his throat again. 

I nod. “Okay, I’m gonna.” I motion to the book, which was thankfully locked in my arms or else I would’ve dropped it when Bertholdt spoke in my ear. His voice is so quiet, so he has to. 

“Oh, right. Yeah.” The smile he bears is too wide for the occasion. “See ya.”

I think that took years off my lifespan. Even worse, I have to walk into that crowd. Sasha, Connie, where are you? Even Jean will suffice, I’m not too scared of him anymore. I search heads and walk further. Are my steps too far apart? Am I slouching? Am I breathing weird? Where…?

A hand lands on my shoulder and the warmth is so familiar I almost don’t jump. “You lost there?” Marco! 

“No.” I straighten. “Well. Where do I put this?” 

Marco looks at the hardcover, smiles, and pries it from my grip. His hand comes closer; he just has that big grin on as he inches the book toward me and slots it somewhere right beside my head, big arm blocking out the light, pinning me, face to face. “Right there.”

Right there? Have we ever been this close together before? Have his eyes always looked at me like that?

A breathy “thank you” breaks out of me, but it’s not me talking. Marco almost beams, and it lasts forever, right here, in this little space. 

But then he puts his body away and we’re just people again, standing in a crowd of teenagers doing some shitty history assignment. Jean catches my eye from somewhere and I can’t even look away, because he’s right. 

He is so violently right that it makes me want to tear my skin into little strips and hurl them at him. 

I do like Marco. I want his strong arms and his kindness and his rough hands and warmth and the funny way he laughs. I like his hair and how he pays attention to me and his crooked teeth and the freckles on his face like little stars, so many little stars. I want to hold him in my arms with his head tucked in the crook of my neck so his pretty black hair tickles my face and tell him it’ll be okay forever and shield him from the world. Oh, god fuck. Fuck!

Please, where did all this come from?

“Well.” He inhales. “Better get back to our groups.”

“Yeah.” That’s really my voice? It’s never sounded so detached before. 

So I watch the backs of his feet and somehow find myself back in the cold chair beside Jean. Today’s face is: disgusted?

“You really are head over heels for him, huh?”

“Whatever. Jean.” What kind of name even is that. Who carries a kid in their womb for nine months to call it Jean. “Go ahead and tell everyone if it makes you feel better.”

Shadis starts talking about something in the distance. I let his words slip through me like an eel down an oil pipe. 

“Ostrich.”

What does he want now? I side-eye him. Today’s look is: well, that’s strange, there must be a malfunction in the system. He looks determined. Inspired, daresay. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees. 

“How about a deal?”

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

I should know better than to wager with the devil. 

It’s bullshit. This double wingman plot of his is destined to end in disaster. It’s in the stars. 

“Help me get closer with Mikasa, and I’ll help you with Marco.” Sure, man. Then both of us will end up unhappy. 

But then again, there’s a chance, right?

No!

It’s a rigged game. Jean is much closer to Marco than I am to Mikasa, so I have to put in more work to get closer to her. 

But I’m a lot closer to Marco than he is to Mikasa, so doesn’t that even it out? Maybe he’s just that desperate? I mean, who goes to me for help? There’s better people he could ask, right? Besides, I don’t necessarily need to get close to her to get her with Jean. 

No, think about this rationally. Even if I do have feelings for Marco (ha!) I don’t need Jean to get with him. If I even want to. 

Being with Marco…?

No! No. I can’t think with my heart. That’s bad. 

“Back out if you want to. It’s not a contract deal…”

I mean…

“You know I’m risking just as much as you are, yeah? Even if I did say anything, you could do the same! Hey, are you even listening?”

What’s the worst that could happen? He outs me, I out him? No, the worst that could happen is him actually ending up with Mikasa. Poor girl. Well, if Marco likes him enough, he can’t be that bad. 

Am I rationalizing? No. Right? If I wanted to rationalize, I would. 

What’s the worst that could happen, really?

“Oi. Ossie.”

“Yes, Connie?”

“You’re staring at me weird.” 

So I am. “Sorry.” I tear my eyes down to the table. I’m here again. Mmm, canned something for dinner. Good thing it’s almost too dim to make out the details of it now because I might lose my appetite. “Just zoned out.”

“I’m just glad the day’s over,” Reiner groans. “Today’s load was rough. Just shovels and shovels of dirt.”

He looks rough, too, smudged brown everywhere, eyes turned down as if looking up would take too much effort, voice gravelly. Bertholdt looks much the same beside him, except it's harder to see the dirt pieces in his hair. That has to be uncomfortable. 

“Can’t you guys clean yourselves?” Reiner points his hollow-looking eyes at me and I flush, clutching the metal bench somewhere they won’t see. “I mean, I’m not saying you should in a rude way, I’m just wondering… if it’s possible for you to shower.” That really came out wrong. The anticipated embarrassment never comes — I’m just getting tired of this. “Because it looks really uncomfortable, and it’s… sorry.”

“No.” Reiner closes them. “No— it’s okay. I get it. But we don’t get to that often— he pinches the bridge of his nose and rubs— “unless it rains or something and we get some.”

“We can’t go near the rivers, because that’s where the zombies like to go,” Bertholdt adds quietly, like an echo. 

“Doesn’t it suck?” Connie releases an exaggerated sigh, yanking the somber mood from the conversation. “Now the room’s gonna stank.”

“Oh, shut up. We don’t like it, either.”

“Hey, you guys,” rings a familiar, warm voice, and I find myself turning like a flower faces the sun. Marco! “Why are you sitting here?”

“We’re just waiting on Sash,” Connie says. “She got distracted by a bug and lost her spot in the food line.”

Jean emerges from behind Marco. “Let’s sit down.” He puts down his food before taking the spot next to Bertholdt, making Marco sit next to me. That definitely wasn’t on purpose.

“Soo,” Jean begins. “Aren’t you going out tomorrow, Marco? Who’s in your squad again?”

“I am.” His ring flashes as he brings his hand up to his mouth. “It’s me and the girls, I think. Mikasa, Sasha, Annie. And Ossie!” He suddenly turns to me.

“Oh!” Is it obvious I’ve been staring? “That’s… cool.”

“It’s your first time going out, isn’t it?” Jean cocks his head, innocently, tauntingly. “Ossie.” The way he says it, drops the word like a bomb. 

“H’o yeah?” Reiner grunts. 

“Levi’s letting you out already?” Squeezing his fingers through the table holes, Connie bursts, “that’s so soon!”

So reassuring, Connie. “I’m sure he… has his reasons.” 

“It’s alright,” the hay devil pipes up again. “She’s with Marco, after all.”

The aforementioned snorts. “Don’t be like that, Jean. We’ll all look out after each other.” He rests his hands on the table, one near my arm, and I get a good look at it. “Besides, it’s a good beginner's mission. I can see his reasoning.”

Jean only shrugs. “You know how many things can go wrong.”

What is he getting at? Marco makes some sort of agreeable noise in his throat. Is he trying to make him worry? He’s only making me worry. And everyone else miserable. 

“Finally,” Connie says, breaking the silence. “Sash!”

I can’t see her at first behind a pillar, but she’s coming. 

Shimmying his fingers out of the table, Connie stands. “Let’s bounce.”

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

“What was that all about?”

Jean and I trail the group as we make our way to the fire exit. Guess they like to eat there. It’s getting darker, reflections on the tile fading with the sunlight. Less people walk the halls now.

“What was what about?”

You know what I’m talking about, I would say, if not for the fact I’m not one hundred percent sure he does. I cut into his path so we’re almost touching as we walk. “The things you said back there.”

He keeps staring forward. “I’m just acting on our deal.”

I strain to both keep my voice down and project enough so he can hear me. “The deal I never agreed to?”

“It was just a preview.” Now he leans down. “I’m showing you what I’m made of, Ostrich. I’ve known Marco my entire life. I’m your best bet.”

The silhouettes in front of us are unyielding. Just how much do I know about Marco? Pretty much nothing, right? Actually, I know as much about him as I know about everyone else.

“You’re thinking about it, right?” He smiles. “How about this? We just give it a try for now.”

I slow my pace and he does the same. “No commitment?” What am I doing?

“No commitment.”

“I can back out if I want to.”

“Anytime.”

Okay, well, if it’s just a preview, if anything goes wrong, nothing happens. Yeah. 

“But,” says Jean, “if I show you what I got, you have to do the same.”

That makes sense. 

“How about this? As soon as we get to the fire exit — right now, Mikasa’s on watch with Christa — try to separate her from Eren. Just one time.”

“How do you know she’s with Eren?”

Exhaling, he returns to his full height. “She always is.”

This is crazy. Please, please realize this is crazy, Ostrich, you don’t even know these people! “So.” Jean looks down as I speak, hands shoved into pockets. So the ‘big secret’ is out, huh? Just like that? “Since we’re being transparent with each other. Is Eren your… competit—”

“Pshhhh. No way. Suicidal bastard. No.”

“Sounds like you’re in denial.”

“Look. If you’re gonna be doing this thing with me, we have to be on the same page. You get it?”

I scoff. “Weren’t you the one that said I’m a burden and a leech and that you didn’t care if I died at all just yesterday?”

He opens his mouth, closes it, and tries again. “That was before I realized your worth.”

“My worth as your pawn?”

“As a… business partner.”

You’re insane, boy. “No, you’re right. We should be on equal footing.”

“Exactly.”

“Apologize to me.”

“Huhp?” he huffs shortly, like a hiccup. I keep scanning his face. His jaw moves as if chewing, but there’s no gum. Then he shoots a quick glance at the group. Weighing the options in his head. “Sorry.”

“Huh?”

Forget daggers, he stares guided missiles at me. “I’m sorry, okay? For calling you worthless.”

“And…?”

He does the chewing thing again. Does it feel good to eat your words? “Everything else.”

“Deal’s off.”

“Fuck else do you want me to say?” he hisses. “I’m sorry I’m an asshole? I only told you the truth.” The last few words come out in his normal tone; he ducks down and lowers his voice. “You wanna get with Marco or what?”

“You’re not very good at this.” 

He rolls his eyes. Not even a week in and I’m already up to schemes with arguably the sketchiest, least bearable personality in the whole group over the feelings of another personality I’ve known for an entire… what, three days? 

“We’ll see.”

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

“Sit here. Sit!” Sasha smacks her hand against the grate stair, making it rattle. I wait until she stops before sitting, making sure the bottom part of my sweater covers my ass before doing so. She immediately looks overhead. “Connie!”

I didn’t notice it before, but the fire exit actually has stairs going down. It was too dark to see back then. There’s a really nice view from here, sandwiched between Sasha and Jean, if I sit sort of sideways with my back to the wall. Not a cloud is suspended in the sky; just a huge block of violet slowly fading into gray and orange and blazing into a warm heat just before above the horizon, a perfect and immiscible gradient. 

The stairs rattle as Connie stomps down to sit on the other side of Sasha. Huh. How safe is this thing, really? When’s the last time it’s been maintained? What’s the maximum weight this thing can hold before its rusty bolts come loose and we all go tumbling?

“Enjoying the sunset?” grunts Jean, who probably has to lean down in a funny way to get this close to me. 

“How far down does it go?”

He smacks his lips. “Huh?”

“The ground.” My eyes start to burn from looking at the sun so I crane my head up until the edge of the building looms over the top part of my vision. “How far away is the ground?”

“Uh, what? Like, three, four stories.”

A cold sweat condenses onto my neck. 

“What’s wrong?” He shuffles around, rattling the grill, a fragile little thing made of thin metal. 

“Stop.” It’s a wonder I can get that word out at all; every muscle is suddenly locked into place. 

He sighs. “You can’t keep staring at the sky. You need to look down at some point.”

“You’re so right,” I say to the top edge of the building.

“We’re not gonna fall.”

My throat is almost too dry to talk. “Yeah.”

“You do realize you need to look down if you wanna walk on this thing, right?”

My eyes seem to cool down a bit when I close them. “Is it high up?”

“Yeah.”

My nails scratch against the brick behind me. “I’m not gonna fall?”

“Dude, no. Just get it over with.” He gets closer again. “You have a mission, remember? You can’t back out now.”

Deep breath. Just a quick look, and we’ll be okay. One quick look—

don’t fucking move. 

“You’re fine, Ostrich. This thing’s bolted to the wall.”

“Fantastic, Jean, thanks,” I rasp, clutching the wall harder. We’re really high up. I can’t distinguish the little green dots on the ground as the emerging weeds they’re supposed to be through the grate. Guess I will seconds before my head meets the ground and my bones crush under their own weight. What’s Sasha doing? Her back is completely turned. Everyone else is on the main balcony part. What’s Marco doing? My limbs feel strained, as if they’ve been wrung out over and over again like dirty rags stuck to my frame. 

“Will you just relax?”

Can someone make him shut up? I can’t keep doing this. I’m getting nowhere. I need to move. Stand up. Stand up. 

“You’re not really helping your image here.”

I wish I can physically slap him with just a look. “Help me, then.”

He lets his neck slack, making his head drop forward a bit. “What, you want me to hold your hand, or something?”

“Just stay still.” I grab his scalp — closest to me — and straighten my legs to stand.

“Ow— hey!”

“Please stop moving.”

“What are you…”

Behind me, Sasha suddenly pffts. “What are you guys doing?”

Jean turns his head toward her, further tangling his stands in my fingers. “Damned if I know!” Tears prick the corner of his eyes. 

“Jean’s… helping me stand up.” 

He cries out. 

She quirks her eyebrow. “Ask me next time.”

Shit, did I offend her? “Sorry, Sasha.” I smile. “Can you still… help me?”

“Nah, this is funnier.” My smile drops. “Look, Cons!” She twists in place to tap his shoulder or something but ends up knocking over her fruit cup, which rolls over to the edge of the balcony. Nobody really moves as it slips underneath the railing and disappears. As it falls it slowly rotates until its abrupt demise, sugary contents spattering on the ground in a dark stain. “Aww…”

That’s going to be me. 

“Owowow!” Jean grasps my fingers. “Let go!” He’s loud enough now to be heard by the others on the main balcony. Even now some peer over the railing.

Mikasa’s looking, too. Just a passing glance, delicate like a crisp petal ready to fall at the slightest breeze. A fleeting chance. 

“Look,” I say lowly, bringing my head closer to Jean’s. I guess I kind of pulled him, too. “Mikasa's watching.”

“Ugh, so? Ow!”

“So?” This can work. This can work! “I don’t need to get closer to Mikasa.”

“If this is your way of saying— ow!”

“Shut up and listen, okay?” I glance at Sasha and Connie, who stare at us like meerkats, then back at my captive. “Look, I…” Say it. “Like an act. I can play the damsel in distress, and you play the… the knight in shining armour. Do you get it? All we have to do is convince Mikasa that you’re a decent guy.” And not the brat that you are. I grit my teeth and try to emphasize my words the same way you talk to a toddler. “And she might fall for you.”

The attack on my fingers stop; in a few seconds Jean takes his hands out of his hair entirely. He sneaks another glance at the balcony. “How? She’s not even looking anymore.”

Just think, man. “Uh.” Metal, holes, railing, stairs, beautiful sunset. “I’ll go up and say I’m going to the bathroom or something, right? And when I come back down, I’ll trip, and you catch me.”

He shakes his head even before I finish. “That’s gotta be the dumbest thing to come out of your mouth so far, and that’s saying something.”

“Do you have any better ideas, Jean? You want me to waltz up to her and hand her a business card with your name on it?”

Scoff, eye roll. Real classy. 

“Or I could not help you at all.”

“Fine!” He holds out both hands. “Fine. But if it doesn’t turn out we’re never doing your dumbshit idea again.”

Ungrateful bastard. On the bright side, I’m too pissed off to be worried about dying as I pound up the stairs, hand scraping on the dry metal railing. So what, he wants my help, but he doesn’t want to follow through on any of my plans? What, is he too good for me? What an ass. Maybe I should sabotage him so Mikasa won’t fall for him. Well, it’s not like she would do something like that anyways, right? I feel a little bad now. 

“You good there, Ossie?” Reiner calls. I’m on the main platform now and he sits with his back against the banister, away from the sun, with a root beer or something in a can which is nearly totally engulfed in his large hand. Bertholdt is beside him as always, legs pulled up to his chest as he watches the ground keenly. “Jean wasn’t bugging you, was he?”

Huh? My temper melts through the metal gauze. “No, I’m alright.”

“He’s a rascal, that one,” Reiner grunts. Disturbed of his observations, Bertholdt covers his mouth and looks the other way. Yeah, he’s a rascal, for sure. 

“Yeah. Well, I’m just gonna go in for a while.”

Reiner shrugs. 

“For— okay.” I swing through the door. Guess I don’t need that excuse anymore. Halfway through the darkened corridor the door slams shut behind me, and the air goes still, willing me to go go still, too. No matter what time of day it is, it’s always pitch dark in here. Always the same sound of a distant waterfall, the same dusty smell. Makes me want to lose my feet and melt into it. Disappear. Just a vapour among vapours. I don’t really want to die. I’d just like to become a part of this corridor. 

The inner door clicks, the sound echoing off the painted concrete walls like a scream, and the solace rips away. A sliver of light breaches the ground and walls as my heart nearly tears out of its vessels. 

Shit. 

The person doesn’t stop approaching and soon the inner door clicks shut. Guess they didn’t see me. Say something. It’s too dark to see and too narrow to avoid them. 

Something blocks my voice from coming out and the panic swirls up inside with no way of escape. Say something. Say somethi—

The fateful moment of impact. The person is big and wears something soft but not soft enough to cushion their greater momentum against me. 

“Ah!” I’m pushed back but compose myself with a few skittering steps. 

“Oh!”

Marco paces back. “Holy— is that you, Ossie? Are you okay?”

“Marco.” Thank god it’s him. That could have been anyone and it’s Marco. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“What are you doing, standing in the dark like that?”

Pretending I’m dead? His voice rings until it fades. “I was just… thinking. Sorry. You wanted to get through?”

“Yeah, just going out… you okay in here?”

“Yeah.” I just said I was. “Uh, actually, I’ll head out, too.”

“After you.”

Right. The thought of Marco’s body against my own suddenly plagues me. No. Behave. We walk silently and the hall is once again disturbed by light as I push open the outer door, holding it open for Marco. He smiles and nods before passing through and somehow that’s even better than a thank-you. I grin at the back of his red sweater. 

“Oh.” Reiner points. “Don’t forget the stick.”

Riiight. I tear away from his trail to put the stick in its rightful spot before following Marco back to mine, now a ways behind, iron grip on the handrail. 

From the stairs, Jean meets my eye, and I nod. Two more steps and I have to fall. Now that it’s come to this, how confident should I be that Jean will actually catch me? I descend another step. Fuck, I have to do this now. Yet again I don’t think about the consequences until it’s time to do it. He’s expecting it, bristling, bunching up his legs. Cool. 

It’s either this or I back down, right? There’s no contract. I don’t really have to do it. It’s such an idiot move, anyway, even if it means admitting that he was right this whole time. It’s only gonna make me look stupid. 

I hook one heavy foot behind the other and yelp at the metal grate hurtling toward me and brace for an impact that never comes. My face ends up buried in soft, red cloth. 

Wait, red? Isn’t Jean wearing black today?

“Ossie? You sure you’re okay?” asks Marco. 

Jean is standing behind my benefactor and stares stupefied over his shoulder at me, arms spread wide, braced to catch an object vaguely shaped like me, one step off. Too slow. 

Fuck. 

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

jesus christ the number of timeskips i use. maybe 10k words was a bad idea for a single chapter. too late

its annoying because google docs can be set to american or british english. and i use canadian english which is like a malformed and neglected child of both. so its a lose/lose no matter what i use. "colourized" how do you like that huh. its okay though because i usually know what i'm talking about.

final notes: thanks for reading as usual <33

masterlist 5 - invert umbrella

[ironwoman18]

Rather Be - Part 9

Chapter 9: A night to remember

That week after mother's day, Loid made at less one thousand plans for his date with Yor but some of his ideas weren't satisfying enough for him.

He was really considering asking other females at work to know what they could suggest to him but of course he wouldn't ask Nightfall. She had been showing an unhealthy interest in replacing Yor and he was happy with her as his partner as the mother of the Forger family.

Besides, he noticed the butterflies he felt in his stomach everytime she kissed his cheek or when they held hands or when he kissed her cheek, in other words, every time they touched.

He never felt something like this in his life. He had been with many women before but none of them made him feel like this. 

He called Mrs. Norris, one of the elderly nurses.

“Doctor Forger, is everything okay?” she asked in a kind tone and warm smile.

“Well... Last Sunday, I gave my wife a beautiful dress and she made me promise to take her on a date so she can use it, but...” He said blushing.

“But you have no idea where to take her right?” He nodded and she laughed “one of the smartest doctors but when it comes to his wife you are a dummy” she said with a kind smile.

“I want to take her to a nice place, but I'm not sure where. Last time we watched a movie and had dinner but I don't want to repeat myself or over do things”

“I see...” She said then she checked in her pocket and handed it to him “there will be a special night at the botanic garden. They brought a collection of flowers that bloom at night” she sighed “If only my dear Argus was still alive I would take him too”

“This seems amazing and very interesting” he looked at her and dared to ask “What happened? If you don’t mind”

“He was a stubborn man and hated doctors so it was too late when they discovered he had cancer. He died last year. He was a brave man and he fought in that terrible war... I was one of the lucky women and also our son and daughter who had her husband and their father back”

Loid looked down sad “Yeah you definitely were lucky. I lost my mother and father because the military dropped bombs where I lived...” he said in a cold tone.

“War is terrible. Young people don’t understand how terrible and how much you can lose in war” she said looking down remembering what she heard that morning on the radio. There are still people wishing to fight in a war.

“Sad but true” he said looking at her, remembering also those college kids he faced who were trying to send bomb dogs to his first ministry.

“I’m sorry I killed the good mood. You were planning a date and I started to talk about sad things...”

“Don’t worry Mrs. Norris, I don’t mind. It’s a touchy subject but if we forget about it, our young people will forget about it and won’t let future generations actually smile and be happy... like my daughter”

She smiled and patted his shoulder “You are a good father and husband, a little distracted but a good one” he blushed softly “See you later Doctor” she left his office and Loid smiled watching her leaving then looked back to the paper she handed him. 

This was perfect and it said it will have a buffet after the exhibition is over. He smiled and looked at the door and there was Nightfall.

“What can I do for you Ms. Frost?” he asked, looking at her.

“I have the file of a new patient Doctor Forger” he walked to her and grabbed the file, it said he had a new mission on... no way... “I can’t take it... I’m sorry. I have something planned for Operation Strix”

“Like...?” she said it, even colder than usual.

“I have a date with Yor” he said matter of factly “Part of this mission is to keep my partner happy and so we look like an actual married couple”

Fiona Frost looked at him, not believing he was just doing this for the mission or to keep Yor Brier happy, in her heart she could notice how her dear Twilight was falling for that woman, and she knew it had been her if she was free when he found out he needed a wife.

“There are no other agents available for it” she lied, she was free but she wanted to focus him back on his role as a spy.

“I will have to talk to the Handler so she can look for another agent. They all know my operation is a top priority” he said.

She cursed under her breath “Fine... I will do it, but don’t get attached to those two. You aren’t like that...” she said, turning around with tears in her eyes but her voice remained calm then she left without another word.

“There’s nothing else I can do or say” she thought “he has feelings for her...”

After that Loid made sure to rent a car for them to take them to the botanic garden and back home. At six he went back home.

“I’m home” he said as Anya and Bond ran to him.

“Daddy!! Today I had a good answer to a math problem!” 

“Oh really?” he picked her up and hugged her “I guess the classes with Grandpa Sig are working” she nodded smiling.

 “Yes, they are. I think Anya is already understanding it” said Yor from the kitchen “just like I’m doing with the cooking classes” she said smiling.

“Yes, I agree” he smiled back, then he hung his coat and his hat, then went to help Yor with some of the seasoning or to peel a potato, a task she still seems to struggle with.

When dinner was done, the three of them sat down and ate while talking about their day. 

When they finished dinner and their dessert, Loid sent Anya to brush her teeth while he washed the dishes then he would read her a story.

The little girl did it while he was in the kitchen. After finishing, Loid went to her bedroom and read to his daughter one of her favorite stories, doing voices as she liked until the little girl fell asleep.

And when she did Loid went to the living were Yor was reading. He sat next to her.

“Story with voices?” She asked, looking at him from the corner of her eye.

“Yes, she knows I'm good at that since I changed my voice for a dwarf in one of the stories, now she wants me to do it with each character” Yor laughed “hey! Don't laugh, it's hard to do voices” she laughed more and he followed her laugh.

After a full minute laughing they were taking deep breaths trying to calm themselves “it's really sweet of you to make those voices for her and some are kind of cute”

“I never imagined myself doing it but I guess that's a great way to make a little kid happy, right?” the black haired woman nodded “and I was wondering if you would like to go on a date with me this Saturday?” He asked, blushing a little.

“I would love to,” she answered blushing.

When Saturday arrived Loid was lucky because Anya was invited to go to Becky’s house again so he and Yor won't be worried about the time or dealing with Franky’s annoyed face.

They took Anya to the Blackwell's car then both parents went to their apartment and had calm morning doing some cleaning then a little bit later each took a shower and went to get dressed and as promised Yor wore her new dress with her heels and she applied a little makeup then she walked out to find Loid wearing a black jacket and pants with a white shirt black tie.

He looked as handsome as ever, she realized he matched her dress with his own black suit. 

On the other hand, Loid was in awe watching her, she looked really beautiful in that dress. The women at the tailor's shop knew exactly how to make a dress that fixed her body like a glove.

She noticed his blue eyes were watching her from head to toe and she blushed harder.

“Are we done?” She asked.

“Yes, we are” he offered his arm to him “I think you will enjoy what I prepared for you”

He led her to the door and opened it for her then they walked downstairs and by the time they reached the street a car appeared in front of them.

Then a man opened the door for them “Sir, madam” he bowed softly then watched as Yor got in, then Loid got in the seat in front of her.

The driver got in and drove to the botanical garden putting some soft music on the radio as he drove.

Loid and Yor chatted as he explained his plans. They will have lunch at the plaza and at four they will go to the garden to each ten flowers they brought that only bloom at night.

Yor was excited because she loved the flowers and having a whole exhibition of them will be amazing.

Loid also told her how he got the idea. She felt sad when he mentioned the story about Mrs. Norris’ husband but at least she moved on and lives at peace now with the absence of her husband.

When they arrived the driver once again opened the door for them and promised he would be there at eleven. Anya will have a sleepover so they were relaxed about their daughter’s sleep time.

He led her to a nice restaurant close by and had a seat outside. They ordered and continued to talk.

Yor truly loved when they were all together but for some reason today she was more happy about having Loid all by herself because she wanted to understand this feeling she has when he touches her hand or when she catches him looking at her when he thinks she doesn't notice it and what is this feeling she has when she looked at him, something she never felt for other men.

They ate and enjoyed each other's company. It was fun and relaxing. Loid was looking at her from time to time trying to read her expressions but as it happens to Anya, he was unable to do it. They were the only people he had never been able to read. And in a way he liked it. He liked the challenges and this one was one.

After eating and paying they left for the botanical garden “have you ever heard of the flowers that bloom at night?” She asked.

“Yes I did but never watched one, so this will be my first time” he smiles at her “and you?”

“I heard of them but never watched them” he smiled after what she said.

“Then this will be our first time watching flowers at night” he said and she smiled nodding at him.

Loid paid for his ticket, this gave them full access to the exhibition and the buffet at the end of the tour. 

“Welcome everyone to the first day of our exhibition of night flowers. This collection of flowers are from all over the world and they are all beautiful and we are sure you will love them. Most of them bloom at night but some will bloom early like at twilight or at four or five” all the people nodded.

They gave them a brochure and at four, they stood in front of it and the guide said “Here we have the Four O'Clock Alba, true to its name, this flower starts unfolding its petals in the late afternoon and remains on display through the night. This airy, bushy perennial—which features large white blossoms against deep green foliage—also unleashes a light citrusy scent that fills the evening air”

“Wow... They are beautiful” said Yor watching how the flowers bloom before her eyes and their smell hit her nose “and the smell is just like the guide said''

“Most definitely, they are amazing,” added Loid, smiling.

The guide was next to an expert checking their watches and the flowers to call the people to check them out. And at six they called the people and the guide said “Next in our tour we have the Evening Primrose, which begins its show just as the sun starts to set and continues through the late evening. It's a perennial that blooms from spring through late summer and has an interesting appearance with rosette-like flowers that bloom atop a tall stem covered in soft hairs”

"They begin to open up before the twilight hours in the most delicate pink-and-white colors," added Hedwig Winston, their botanical expert "I love primrose for their ease of care. They are a very hardy plant and look wonderful in most gardens.”

They all stayed there watching in awe the beautiful flowers. Some new people were arriving watching each flower group and taking photos. Loid decided to bring his camera and take beautiful photos.

At night the rest of the flowers started to bloom so the guide led them to each one. 

“Here we have the Moonflower, which is the nighttime sister to the beautiful morning glory, only it comes alive under the evening stars” 

"These creamy white blooms open in the evening and only stay in bloom at night," said Gabe Sanders, an expert of the botanical garden, he continues saying "I'm partial to any morning glory because of their delicate shape and how they drape around a garden. They are just so stunning, and I think the uniqueness of this one only adds to their allure.” 

All the people took photos of the flowers. Loid was making sure Yor was in each photo he was taking of the flowers, he asked another couple to take a photo of them. He did it by the twilight flower, since they shared that moment of the day.

After some more photos, the guide took them to the next flower “now this is the Night Phlox is a captivating flowering plant that's native to South Africa” 

"Its blooms resemble small daisies and release a sweet and honey-like fragrance after the sun goes down," said Eric Garden, another expert, and owner of some of the flowers, then he added "The leaves form a dense, low-growing clump that looks lush and green." 

“If you want to have them in your own garden, this is an ideal choice for borders, rock gardens, and containers”

They continued the tour around the botanical garden watching flowers like the Gardenia or the Night Blooming Jasmine, they also watched the Mock Orange.

“This the Casa Blanca Lily, for a magnificent flower that blooms at night, look no further than the Casa Blanca lily. As its name suggests, this perennial produces large white blooms with red-brown anthers, dazzling passersby all summer long. These blossoms sit atop a tall, rigid, and leafy stem. Like other lilies, its flowers are toxic to pets, so make sure, if you want to have them at home, to keep them out of reach of your furry friends”

“It's so sad Bond couldn't have a nice look of them, I know he's smart but he wouldn't know this before flower could be lethal for him”

“Yes but I don't plan on having a garden in our small apartment,” he said, half joking and half serious. Yor laughed and nodded.

“I'm agree, as much as I love flowers, they belong to a beautiful place like this one or a big garden”

“Now there is the Queen of the Night Cactus, a flowering variety native to North America's Sonoran Desert. Their white or yellow blossoms are large and trumpet-shaped and sit in stark contrast to the tough, prickly cactus exterior” 

"Chances are, you've seen this cactus and had no idea its real beauty was best seen at night," said Garden, the expert. "For anyone in the Southwest, this is a great, low-maintenance choice to give variety to a garden or landscape."

And he was right, one of Twilight's missions took him to North America and he ended up in a desertic zone and he witnessed those cacti at night but it looked so boring and not as pretty as it looks right now.

“I will take some pictures and show them to Dawn, the agent who was with me, back then” he thought, smiling softly.

“The last flower in our tour is the Nocturnum Orchid. Those living in a wet, tropical climate can enjoy the beauty of the aptly named Nocturnum orchid. It produces long, dark green foliage and otherworldly white blossoms that take on a peculiar shape. What's also remarkable about this night-blooming flower is its intoxicating fragrance. It's been described as a fruity flower akin to strawberry or raspberry”

The nice smell of that flower hit Yor and Loid and they were fascinated by it. They took some more photos and smiled as a nice man accepted to take a picture of them “You should kiss” suggested the man “Because I believed you are married” they blushed softly but Yor, who was always to one with the less courage did something unexpected and kissed his cheek but way too close to his lips that tricked the angel to look like a real kiss on the lips. They blushed deeply and the guy, happy with his photo, left them.

“This has been a beautiful evening. Surrounded by  beautiful and breathtaking flowers” said Yor blushing a little and smiling big at her husband “thank you for this beautiful night”

He blushed softly “I'm so happy that you liked this. I was looking for the perfect evening for us” he smiled at her “and the last part of the date will a buffet at the end of the exhibition” 

“Oh! Sounds great” she laughed and he led her to the restaurant in the garden. It had a couple of people in there so they took a tail and they got what they wanted and went to a table.

They ate and talked about the tour and how interesting it was. Loid could tell she was into the theme of flowers, but somehow he doubted she could keep them alive, you could call it a gut feeling.

He picked dessert for them and the place started to get crowded so they were happy to be there earlier and be able to eat first.

“This place is beautiful and I would love to bring Anya, maybe not to see this particular exhibition because it's too late for her but other exhibitions could be nice for her, and maybe ask the Blackbell’s to let Becky comes too”

“That's a great idea” he smiled “I will ask them, I wrote their number down” Yor clapped excited and smiled big at him.

At eleven they left the building after buying something at the gift shop for Anya and Bond and some decoration for their house. They headed to the plaza and she held his hand as they walked, this action felt so right to both of them and they were comfortable by that action.

They arrived just in time and opened the door for his passengers and this time Yor talked to him really animated about everything they watched there. She sounded so happy that Loid thought about Mrs. Norris and how he would give her one of the gifts they brought at the store to thank her.

They got home and after getting out Loid and Yor walked in and went to their rooms with a big smile on their face and Loid was expecting the next day to reveal the photos they took that day.

OOooOOooOO

I hope you like this. I would like to add that I got the information about the flowers using the Martha Stewart website.

[hopeforkitten]

what is sleepy sex in the middle of the night for us, then a night snack for Haarlep?

Yes. the night feast and the consequences of sex with an incubus

She was tired after her usual weekday, and after that she was devastated by the appetite of her beloved incubus. Still, the day was over, and the prospect of a long sleep quite palpably surrounded her with the warmth and softness of their bed.

However, the sweet dream was not as long as I wanted. In the middle of the night, the girl woke up to Haarlep's persistent stroking. She frowns, tries to open her eyes, which persistently require sleep. She barely has to start moving to turn to Haarlep, as his leg slips between the girl's legs and with a jerk she finds herself lying on her back while the brazen incubus continues its unscheduled offensive.

"Haarlep... you've already got yours today,"

the girl mutters, barely opening her eyes. Haarlep runs a string of wet hot kisses from her belly to her neck. She barely slows him down, leaning her hands on his hair, then wrapping them around his broad shoulders.

"I know, darling, I know," the Incubus whispers sweetly, without taking off her neck. "But I'm still hungry. Therefore, if you, delicious thing, let me do it again, I will be so grateful to you." The velvety meow of Haarlep seems to be able to persuade anyone.

"But I'm so tired...

"Of course dear. Therefore, I will be the most gentle and delicate, you can even continue your sleep. Just let me."

Haarlep settles comfortably between her legs in advance. If match the stubbornness of the incubus, it is expected that he will lick her face like a joyful dog, but his touches on her face are the most gentle, and kisses do not even seem to block her air.

"If you let me sleep, that's fine."

Haarlep's eyes sparkle.

"Great honey, then close your eyes," The incubus kisses the girl deeply, plunging her into such a desirable dream.

~~~

The girl wakes up closer to noon and discovers with displeasure that she did not sleep that night. She sits up on the bed, her hair is disheveled, her eyes hurt and her limbs ache. In a small room, it is easy to notice Haarlep, who enthusiastically wipes the shelves of the closet. He turns at the rustle of the sheets.

"Oh dear, you're awake!"

In the sunlight, he looks like the most innocent and happy creature in the world. As if his excellent health was not the result of the girl's nocturnal ruin.

With an almost bouncing gait, he lands behind her, leaning her against him as if she couldn't hold herself on her own. Which may have been the case.

"How are you feeling?"

He coos and tucks strands of hair behind her ears.

"I dare say there was more than one at night."

The girl barely turns to him and says with feigned resentment.

"Well, a lot can go wrong if you leave a hungry person in a buffet full of food."

He barely makes excuses, tracing circles on her shoulders with his fingers.

"But don't worry, honey, today I will surround you with the maximum of care."

He slides off the bed and goes to the door, thinking along the way.

"I can provide you with a fragrant bath and also bring your favorite flowers and..."

He turns to her at the very door. It's hard not to love this face, the young face of Raphael with pronounced soft cheekbones that rose even higher when the incubus smiled. Haarlep hangs slightly by the handle and looks at her playfully.

"What would you like for breakfast?"

[whosxafraid]

She's A Rolex

Starter requested by @ifyoucatchacriminal

Banging.

That's the first thing that should have told him something was fecking wrong. But up until three seconds ago he was dead asleep--closer to the actual than the metaphorical to boot. And now he's shuffle footing it to his front door. Half fell down the god damn steps before getting to the lock. Half a dozen curse words not in English before he's slinging the god damn thing open. Green and off yellow going wide as he stares down at the face staring up at him.

"Watch?! Lass, wha--?"

No time. Let me in.

And he's on alert in a fraction of a second. Gaze tearing from her to the outside. The outside where the rain is coming down in sheets. The scent of everything sub-duded. Muted. Muggy if he had to put a word to it. And he hates that. Hates that in spades. But where scent is not helping him sight and hearing attempt it. But there's too much movement from the rain and too little of it anywhere else. And its roaring like a dragon thrice pissed. So it's with only so much caution that the door slams shut behind her. Every lock from the top to the bottom shoved into place.

And hand that only dares hover at the small of Watch's back as he ushers her through the space he uses as a garage. Passed the SUV, van, and motor bike, all unmarked, all unassuming and as black as the void in which they sit. Onward up the steps he directs until the next door behind them is pulled closed. And from there she sheds shoes and socks while he takes her coat.

His guest allowed to venture out into the living room of his abode. A living room buffeted on two sides by floor to ceiling windows. Similar sized bookshelves that stand upon either side, in between and along the length of the opposite wall. Watch moving to collapse upon the couch at the center of the view while Luka digs up a towel, blankets, something to eat and drink. And by the time it is all said and done? She looks far better than she did when the banging began.

"Ye go' toi'me now, lass?"

She nods. A breath taken. A wary look at the windows. He knows she knows nothing can touch her here. That glass has stopped stronger things than sniper bullets in and outside of this zip code. And while he will close the blinds if she asks...

I'm being...watched.

He doesn't smile. Not a single lick of amusement to what should have been a slightly funny inside joke to break the tension. But now isn't the time for jokes and there's the slightest chuck of his chin to get her to continue.

I don't know how...or by who...hell I don't even know when it specifically started. I just....things weren't...things haven't been where I put them. Every time I leave the house it feels like there's someone right behind me but every time I try to catch them...

Hands come up as she shakes a frown from her features.

I thought it might have been the nymph you said lives in the tree in my court yard--she's been acting weird. I thought maybe she was sick but she wouldn't talk to me. And then two nights ago...

She wanders away from whatever she was going to say, and he has to redirect. The slightest nudge of a finger against tea mug in her hands now, because anyone that knows Watch? Knows her germophobia cannot handle being touched.

S-sorry uh...t-two nights ago--this is going to sound insane but I--I was working and... I swear I felt someone touch me, Luka. I felt the warmth of their hand the weight of it but the second I turned around...nothing. Nothing but this gut wrenching feeling I was exposed. Exposed like I was in Pa--Paris. I wasn't followed...I checked and rechecked and rechecked again just like you taught me.

And that is all he needs to hear. He promised her what happened to her in Paris would never happen again. And he meant it. It wouldn't. Watch had nearly died that night, and it was not something Luka O'Rian was going to allow to happen twice. And he tells her as much, before getting up. Moving to one of the windows. Phone pulled from a pocket, a number dialing as it settles at his ear.

Because Watch isn't his only "friend" and if there's one thing that all six foot ten and red hair of him is good at? It's finding people that don't want to be found. Especially when they're a threat to his employee and by that measure his own livelihood.

[charlottedabookworm]

#25 - Perpetuity

feat Nadir

i headcanon that the dragons sorta exist a little bit out of time so it's not like they remember the future nadir is from but they have a knowing yknow? they can feel it

anyway genuinely not sure if this makes sense but i've gotta start getting ready for work so it is what it is

direct continuation from #11 - Surrogate

“Speak, mortal, and I shall listen.”

All words flee from his mind in an instant; he does not know what to say. Nadir had assumed-

Master Vrtra had known of his mission. Varshahn had known him, his gaze piercing and familiar as he found him on the beaches outside of his home. “Mine father yet sleeps,” his Satrap’s vessel had said, utterly still as he had watched him. “If thou can awaken him, thou shalt have his aid.”

“I wish thee luck, Nadir bin Pashe,” Varshahn had murmured before vanishing, gone in an instant, leaving only a scale where he had once stood.

The same scale that hangs at Nadir’s neck. The very reason why he had assumed that the Great Wyrm would-

“Speak, mortal.”

“My apologies, I-” Where should he even begin? Where did it all-? Oh. “The stars fell from the skies.”

The Great Wyrm Midgardsormr simply stares down at him, unmoving.

Nadir swallows. “The stars fell from the skies,” he says again, slowly. Even now, he can see it; streaks of light dancing across the skies. It was beautiful, until it was not. “The stars fell and our people- already were we struggling, after the Calamity. Our fields lay fallow, our livestock dying, and then- we do not know how it begun but our people-”

He can hear them screaming. He can hear their bones breaking, their skin tearing, the rush of blood as they changed-

“They changed,” Nadir says quietly, steadily, distantly. “They- transformed.” Their bodies twisting, their aether roiling dark and angry, terror and despair and- “They became monsters. Blasphemies. One after another after another, all of them, creatures and people all falling one by one to despair.”

Midgardsormr, sire of the First Brood, oldest of the Great Wyrms, blinks slowly. “Despair,” the ancient being rumbles. It is not a question.

“Our people burned, Master Midgardsormr, and Master Vrtra- this was the only path he saw forward. I swore to protect our people, to complete the last mission he gave of me. And so I beg of you, please, tell me how I may prevent this from happening once more.”

“Thou dost carry the scent of a Calamity yet come,” the Great Wyrm says. “My people have heard the song, yet not the song that was once sung. Seven children did I sire; one who hath singeth of retribution, while my youngest now singeth of hope.”

Air buffets around him, burning against his robes and skin as the Great Wyrm exhales.

Nadir does not dare to flinch.

Midgardsormr’s head lowers, until the Great Wyrm’s eyes are level with his head. The gaze is piercing and heavy and familiar. “Thou art loyal to mine child, mortal, to stand here even now. Dragons do not forget. Mine child asks for mine aid and so shalt he have it. I rise to join him in chorus.”

In his hand, the scale warms.

He breathes. The screams of his people quiet and the weight upon his shoulders lightens.

“Despair,” Master Midgardsormr says once more, gaze distant and unfocused.

Dragons do not forget, the Great Wyrm said. Nadir wonders what it is that the ancient being before him remembers.

He wonders if it is similar to the horrors that haunt his own mind.

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

How would the Ganondorfs (Wind Waker, Ocarina of Time, Twilight Princess, Hyrule Warriors, and Tears of the Kingdom) & Demise react to Deadpool?

Deadpool: (smiling and cracking his knuckles as he approaches the Gerudo Warlords and Demise) “Well, look who’s here! Six Ganon-daddies all lined up like the villain buffet at a gamer’s Thanksgiving! Oooh, and the big scary one with the glowing hair! Are you the OG? The ‘daddy daddy’ of all these ‘Dorfies?’”

Wind Waker Ganondorf (Wake):

Wake crosses his arms, peering down at Deadpool with an arched brow, half-curious, half-amused.

Wake: “Do you ever stop talking? Or does your voice run on some kind of enchanted battery?”

Deadpool: “Enchanted battery?! This vocal powerhouse is 100% all-natural, baby! Brought to you by fourth-wall-juice and pure, unadulterated caffeine!”

Wake: (sighing but slightly entertained) “You're either a master of chaos… or the village idiot of your world.”

Deadpool: (grinning) “Both, but hey, you get the sword-wielding, pirate-loving, smack-talking pirate vibe! We should team up sometime, maybe hit up a karaoke bar?”

Wake raises a brow, half-amused, half-perturbed by the idea but not entirely dismissing it, though he’s trying to hide a slight smirk.

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf (OoT):

OoT Ganondorf glares coldly at Deadpool, one hand hovering near his sword, prepared for an attack if necessary.

OoT: “Fool. You presume far too much. Do you know who you’re speaking to?”

Deadpool: “Oh, I do! You’re, like, the OG OG! The ‘make-Hyrule-a-dark-realm’ guy! The original Green Machine! Ooooh, I’m getting chills just thinking about your legend—except for the part where you, y’know, lost to a ten-year-old twice!”

OoT: (face turning a deep shade of crimson) “Choose. Your. Next. Words. Carefully.”

Deadpool: “Ooo, tough guy alert! Wanna go get some rage therapy together? I know a guy. Or, ooh, even better! I’ll be your rage therapy!”

OoT clenches his fists, completely exasperated, but somehow, Deadpool’s audacity leaves him baffled enough to prevent him from fully unleashing his wrath.

Twilight Princess Ganondorf (Noctis):

Noctis takes a few slow steps toward Deadpool, his face an unreadable mask, and his aura downright intimidating.

Noctis: “Strange… You laugh in the presence of death?”

Deadpool: (leaning in, waggling his brows) “Death is an old friend of mine! We go way back. Fun fact, I’ve dated her sister. You’d probably love her.”

Noctis: (clearly unimpressed) “You would do well to silence yourself. Or I’ll do it for you.”

Deadpool: (smirking, crossing his arms defiantly) “Well, try me, Nocty! I’m a regenerating chatterbox, and honey, you wish you could get rid of me!”

Noctis grimaces, barely restraining himself, but he finds himself more intrigued than he’d like to admit, wondering how Deadpool’s regeneration could be “repurposed” for something far less obnoxious.

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf (Hedony):

Hedony surveys Deadpool, an amused smile playing at his lips as he looks the mercenary up and down.

Hedony: “Hm. A jester with a death wish.”

Deadpool: “Yeah, but, like, a really sexy jester, wouldn’t you say? Love the hair, by the way. Do you style it yourself, or does your hairdresser also do evil overlords on the side?”

Hedony: (chuckling) “You’d do well to amuse me more, little fool. You might survive a moment longer.”

Deadpool: (grinning) “Anything for you, Big Red! Wanna hear a joke? Why did the Triforce cross the road?”

Hedony: (eyeing Deadpool with a smirk) “Because it was fleeing from you, I assume?”

They share a laugh, albeit for very different reasons. Hedony finds Deadpool’s antics a welcome entertainment but silently wonders if this “mercenary” would actually fare in a fight.

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf (TOTK):

TOTK eyes Deadpool with utter disgust, as if he’s staring at something beneath his notice.

TOTK: “Insolence… You dare speak so casually to a king?”

Deadpool: “Who, me? I’m sorry, did I miss the part where you actually won? ‘Cause last I checked, you keep ending up in the ground—literally!”

TOTK: “Another word from you, and I’ll see to it that you never speak again.”

Deadpool: (mock-saluting) “Yessir, Your Highness of Grumpy Town, population one!”

TOTK looks like he’s about to lose his last ounce of patience, but Deadpool’s obliviousness is so astounding he’s left bewildered, his usual anger momentarily disrupted.

Demise:

Demise, towering over everyone, stares down at Deadpool with a deep, unyielding hatred, sparking fear even in the merc’s normally fearless heart.

Demise: “You are nothing to me. Another insect begging to be crushed beneath my heel.”

Deadpool: (Huge grin) “Oh, big talk! Ever tried a sense of humor? I hear it’s great for the soul. Not that you, uh, have one, right?”

Demise: “Do you think yourself immortal? Your existence ends now.”

Deadpool: (laughing nervously, backing away) “Whoa, slow down there, Giganto! I’m a lover, not a fighter… usually. But hey, you’d be amazed how many people love my type of big bad evil energy, and I mean, wow—you are nailing it.”

Demise’s sheer presence finally leaves Deadpool a little less bold and a little more in survival mode, but Deadpool’s parting words still echo as Demise silently considers the idea of obliterating him right there and then.

Final Moment: Deadpool: (whispering to himself as he edges away) “Okay, that’s five really angry sword-wielding villains and one towering embodiment of death. Maaaaybe I’ll take a raincheck on that evil overlord team-up thing.”

The Ganondorfs and Demise watch him disappear, each secretly baffled but half-amused, their former grudges for a brief moment displaced by the baffling experience of the “merc with a mouth.”

[juliasdowntonstuff]

My dearest Darling

I just posted a new story, this time it will be a multi-chapter fic. I'll try to upload once a week (if university doesn't get in the way too much)

This will deal with loss and grief again and especially the beginning will be rather heavy, so read only if you can or want to!

Short summary: Cora had been feeling unwell for weeks leading up to their trip to France. Back home, she had Doctor Clarkson run some tests and the results are not at all what she had hoped. How will she cope with this new reality, and will she be able to help Robert and their daughters to come to terms with it? This is a *slightly* altered ending/continuation to A New Era

"I won't beat around the bush, Lady Grantham. The test results came in yesterday, but I confirmed them with specialist colleagues in London first before coming here, just to be safe. Though, I am afraid that it really is as bad as we initially feared."

The doctor stood in front of them, clasping his hat in his hands in front of his body. He was most uncomfortable having to relay the bad news. He had so wanted to have been wrong, wanted his colleagues to tell him it was a misdiagnosis, but they had not.

The Earl and Countess both stood there, their hands intertwined, standing so close to each other that their shoulders were almost touching. Neither of them moved or seemed to breathe.

Robert felt all the colour drain from his face, felt his hands getting clammy, and his heart stopping its usual regular beating, now merely stumbling along, or so he thought at least. This could not be, he must have misheard the Doctor's words. This just could not be true.

"So it really is cancer?" Cora asked or rather said, her voice leaving little room for discussion or uncertainty.

Robert didn't dare look over at her. If he did, he was sure he would lose his composure again, just like he did in France when she had first told him of her suspicion. This time, however, they weren't alone, they were never alone in this house – least of all with Doctor Clarkson still standing there. He would not cry in the middle of the great hall of his home, in front of their doctor, not as long as he still had an ounce of willpower left inside his body.

"Yes, my Lady, I have had it confirmed by several other doctors in London, specialists in this particular field of medicine. I wanted them to tell me I had made a misdiagnosis, but they did not. They offered to help draw up a treatment plan for you and are doing that as we speak," the Scottish man replied, a remorseful expression on his face.

The doctor did not know what else to say, and so he waited for both of them to process the information.

After another few uncomfortable seconds of silence had passed between them, Cora found her voice again.

"Thank you for coming all the way here to tell us, especially this late in the evening. Please have yourself some dinner from the buffet. Though I am afraid we don't have any servants out here tonight, they are all busy becoming film stars," she said with a light chuckle, trying to lighten the mood ever so slightly, mostly unsuccessfully.

The doctor nodded curtly and walked to the buffet tables a few feet away to grant the Earl and Countess at least some privacy after having delivered the horrible news.

"Robert?"

He still had not moved, not an inch. He felt hot and cold at the same time. His heart beat fast in his chest, but it also felt like it had stopped altogether. He could feel her delicate hand on his arm, sensed her gaze on his face, but he couldn't bear it. He could not look at her, not without losing it.

Just when she was about to step in front of him as a last resort to gain his attention, a frantic voice rang out from the gallery above them. The loud shrieking snapped him out of his trance-like state.

"My Lord, my Lady. Come, quick!"

It was Denker, his mother's maid. She was waving her arms frantically, trying her hardest to catch their attention.

Oh no, she couldn't, could she? Not today.

Doctor Clarkson spun around on his heel at the noise, searching the gallery above for the source of the noise. Looking alarmed, he quickly followed Cora and Robert upstairs after putting his still-empty plate on the table.

It was not long after that that the whole family had gathered in Violet's room as she was saying her goodbyes. It truly was a good thing that Mary had persuaded her grandmother to move back into the Abbey when she had first talked about her visit with the London doctor. This way, she was surrounded by the people closest to her in her last moments and was not lying alone in her bed in the Dower House.

He stayed strong, not showing his inner turmoil, not even as his mother drew her last breath while holding his hand. He watched his two daughters, who never seemed to have much affection left for each other, clinging to each other and crying in their shared grief over the loss they both felt at that moment.

He felt Cora run her hands over his suited chest and squeeze his arms, trying to reassure him, silently telling him that he was not alone. He knew he should be there for her, should be the one comforting her after her horrible news just minutes before, but he could not move.

Robert did not want to let go of her hand, he couldn't. Not when she had taken his hand in hers on her own accord. She had never done that, not even when he had been but a young boy who had scraped his knees playing outside with the nanny. It had surprised him when she stretched out her frail hand in his direction, and he had taken it without hesitation, running his thumb lightly and delicately over the back of her hand in soothing circles.

She had said her goodbyes to those closest to her, all joined together at that moment, assembled in her bedroom. Even in her death, his mother had kept her wit, and it made it all just a bit easier for him and everyone around, or so it seemed.

And she had said it, said that she had been wrong about Cora. After all these years, she had finally said the words he had longed for her to say ever since he got married almost forty years ago. She had apologised, and they had made peace after so many years, it made him feel glad and gave him some needed comfort in these trying times. And he would certainly cling to this moment, he knew. How the two women most important to him had finally come to some form of understanding, had accepted each other.

Robert had then looked at the doctor hiding away in the corner, not wanting to intrude even more in this private moment. Only then, he had stepped closer and checked the pulse, confirming what everyone had already known was coming with a quick nod. Luckily for Cora and Robert, everyone else was too preoccupied with the proceedings of the evening to question Doctor Clarkson being there at the estate the minute Mrs Denker had alarmed them about Violet's deterioration.

The doctor then stepped out of the room shortly after confirming her heart had stopped, giving them the room to say their last goodbyes as a family, and heading downstairs to tell the staff. He was met at the foot of the stairs by Charles Carson, the former butler, who had been as much of a constant in this house as the now-deceased dowager had been for the last five decades.

Richard Clarkson did not need to say a word, the doctor's grim expression told the former butler all he needed to know. As the doctor left the abbey for the night, Carson went down to start making arrangements with Grassby's to help his former employers – and to tell the staff. They had all been aware of the steady decline of the Dowager's health and knew it was only a matter of weeks when the family returned from the south of France. The day had come sooner than they thought, but it had come, and they were waiting downstairs for any news.

Back in the room upstairs, Robert was the last person left, still sitting in the same spot, everyone else granting him some last moments alone with his mother. He sat there, kept her company and talked to her without a word ever leaving his lips.

He didn't know how long he had been sitting there on his own, and he had not heard the door open and close again.

"Robert, it is time to let go. Come to bed, please."

Cora's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but she startled him, nonetheless.

He turned his head to her, his eyes full of unshed tears. She had rarely seen him like this, and it scared her, thinking about their future or whatever it was they would have.

"Give me another minute, please. I need another minute."

His voice sounded hoarse, as if it belonged to a man twenty years his senior, until eventually giving out at the end. He even looked as if he had aged those twenty years within the last three hours, and it broke her heart to see him like this. It broke her heart to think that someday, soon, he would be sitting there again, with her lying still in the bed, him holding her hand and refusing to let go.

She didn't reply, fearing her voice to betray her as well, but walked over to where he was sitting at her bedside. She noticed that had not moved away from his chair.

The both of them looked at the still form on the bed, both lost in their own thoughts, until he finally let go of the hand he had still held firmly in his. He set it down as gently and carefully as he could, letting his big hand rest on her smaller, wrinkled one for a final time.

Robert got up and lightly pressed his lips on her forehead, giving his Mama a last kiss. He straightened his back, and stood at her bedside for another second, just looking down at her, taking a mental image of her peaceful form in the bed. He wanted to remember her, his mother, for as long as he possibly could, especially looking so peaceful in her last moments. There were no lines of worry on her face, only marks of a long, fruitful life.

If he hadn't known any better, he would have thought she had just fallen asleep.

And in a way, she had.