#i am a hostess first and foremost

[aidanchaser]

Boulangérella: A Miraculous Fairy Tale AU - Chapter Nineteen

Table of Contents Read on Ao3 Prologue

Marinette knew that Kagami needed her, but she could not help but think that Alya needed her more. She had done all she could for Char Noir, and now she had to help her other best friend. Tikki slipped into her apron pocket as she left the fitting room, and Marinette detoured to the palace doors where she had left Nino and Alya. She ran into them just as the guards were escorting them out, and she hurried to stop them.

“Alya! Nino!”

As Alya turned her head, Marinette’s heart flinched.

Marinette could not speak from experience, but she had heard from her parents, Alya, and Nino, who had all experienced Hawk Moth’s curses before, that when the curse was undone, there was a hollow, empty sensation left behind. That did not appear to exist in Alya, whose hazel eyes simmered with molten rage.

Marinette wondered if Hawk Moth could simply offer her Rena Rage’s power once more, and if he did, would Alya even attempt to resist?

“What’s happened?” Marinette asked. “I heard someone say that the throne room collapsed and I came to check on you—”

Alya yanked Marinette into a hug. Though it was bone-crushing, it was neither affectionate nor angry. It felt as desperate as Chat Noir had felt grabbing her hand.

“I’ll tell you everything,” Alya whispered, “but not in front of the palace guards.”

The part of her that was Ladybug, the part of her that needed to protect this city because no one else could, tried to raise a protest. Alya couldn’t tell her everything. No one else was supposed to know Rena Rouge’s identity except Ladybug.

Though Marinette supposed King Gabriel, Nino, and half of the palace guards knew the truth by now.

“I need to finish fitting Princess Kagami and the princes,” Marinette whispered back.

Alya’s lips pressed together in a tight line. Through gritted teeth, she spat, “Ask the princes why the king has taken to stealing from his people.”

“Alya—”

“Ask them.”

And then the guards were pulling them apart and practically dragging Alya and Nino from the palace.

Marinette swallowed down the lump in her throat. She knew her best friend well, and Alya would stop at nothing to get back what she had lost. So Marinette would not stop either.

She was going to beg King Gabriel for the fox pendant back.

No, not beg. That wasn’t the right word.

Demand.

Marinette turned to the nearest guard. “I’d like to speak to King Gabriel.”

The woman looked down at her with a bemused expression. “And I’d like a vacation to the sea for a week. Good luck to the both of us, kid.”

Marinette frowned. She supposed luck really would be her only option.

Despite her anger, she stifled a yawn and, as she began the walk up to Princess Kagami’s rooms, tried to put together a plan. She would have to find King Gabriel as Ladybug, and the best way to do that would be to attend the ball. She did not feel quite presentable for a ball in her exhausted state, but she would have to trust Tikki’s magic to take care of that for her.

She wondered what she ought to do for a dress. Her attire as Ladybug was well-suited for running across rooftops and battling Hawk Moth’s monstrous curses, but it was hardly appropriate for a ball.

Marinette would have to ask Tikki if there was any way to change her appearance, but she had already arrived at Princess Kagami’s rooms, and she had no sooner placed her hand on the door before Princess Kagami was there, pulling her inside.

“Where did you go?” Kagami demanded. “What happened?”

“Oh—” Marinette stumbled into the dressing room. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, I only—I went to get help, to find Ladybug.”

“Is that the magic that filled the palace? Just like yesterday evening?”

Marinette yawned again and nodded. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s been a very long two days.” Or, more accurately, a very long month.

But Princess Kagami did not seem to mind Marinette’s exhaustion. She pulled Marinette to her dressing table, sat her down, and said, “As you help me get ready for this evening, I want you to tell me everything about Ladybug.”

Some stories of Ladybug and her heroics in the City of Bright Lights had reached Kagami in the east, and she knew enough about magic in her own country. She did not find the fay so terribly different from the spirits in her land. Similar beings, different names.

But she had never seen magic up close, and if Prince Adrien wanted magic, if that was truly why he had spent so much time with Lila last night, then Kagami wanted to know everything.

So as Marinette helped her dress, she listened. She listened while Marinette told her about Hawk Moth and his desperation for a terrible wish. Marinette told her about Chat Noir and his thieving antics, but also that he was loyal and a hero just like Ladybug. Marinette even told Kagami about Alya, and everything that had happened today.

“The king took the magic from your friend?”

“I’m sure he had a good reason, but I hope he will change his mind.” Marinette rubbed her eyes and tied off the sash around Kagami’s waist. “Don’t you find all these silks heavy?” she asked, and tried to adjust the collar of Kagami’s dresses so that the layers of fabric were more visible. It seemed a shame to bury so much beautiful fabric.

“Don’t you find that your stays pinch your ribs?” Kagami asked. “Perhaps if your king rewarded Chat Noir and Ladybug for all the good they have done for the city, Chat Noir would not resort to such thievery, and your heroes would not have to be so secret.”

Marinette smiled. Chat Noir did what he did for fun, not for the value in what he took. But she wouldn’t complain about a little financial thank you. It’d be nice to provide for her parents after all that they had sacrificed to make sure that she could continue her apprenticeship year after year.

“Maybe,” she conceded, “but I think both Chat Noir and Ladybug do what they do because they want to help. They don’t do it for a reward.”

Marinette pulled back the layers of each dress so that they cascaded more like a collection of panels on the dresses that the other women would be wearing. “It does seem a shame to wear so much fine fabric and cover it all. Would you like me to pin it back?”

Kagami hummed in distracted agreement. “What has King Gabriel done about Hawk Moth’s attacks? To have the palace attacked twice in two days… It seems that something ought to be done.”

“Well, I know he increased the number of guards after yesterday’s attack…”

“Ineffective,” Kagami noted. “For today’s attack was far worse, you said.”

“Yes, but Hawk Moth’s power is stronger when the emotions he uses are stronger. I don’t think that’s something King Gabriel can control.”

“No, I suppose not.”

Kagami surveyed her reflection in the mirror. The way Marinette had pinned back her silks to reveal each layer was unusual to her, but she tried to see it through Marinette’s eyes, as an artistic challenge with certain limitations. The lavender and pale blue silk were lovely, even though they were not meant to be visible. The outer coat, painted in green, blue, and violet irises was still the central piece of the ensemble, but she felt rather exposed.

“Are you happy with it?” Marinette asked.

“It’s… different.”

There was a knock at the door and Kagami’s heart raced. Though she knew that her mother could not see, she felt certain that her mother would immediately know that Marinette had altered her traditional dress into something new.

But it was not her mother at the door. It was only a servant, arrived to tell Marinette that the princes were ready for their fitting.

“Oh—we���re nearly done,” Marinette said, and turned to Kagami. “I can undo it all, really, if you don’t like it.”

“But you like it, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“And… Prince Adrien liked what you designed for him?”

Marinette remembered his tears yesterday and thought it best not to give Kagami any details. “I think he did.”

“Then I shall try it for tonight.”

“You look beautiful,” Marinette assured her. “Yesterday, I thought about how nice your dress would pair with the pale green that Prince Adrien wore. Tonight he’s wearing white and lavender, and I think it will match just as nicely.”

Kagami took in a deep breath and recovered all of her surety. “Thank you, Marinette.”

“You’re welcome, Your Highness.” Marinette curtsied. She glanced down at the jewelry box on the table. “Did you also want to wear the hair pins that Prince Adrien sent you?”

Kagami pulled the lid off of the box and examined the delicate glass lilies. They were gaudier than she was used to, but so was everything in this court. They also would pair well with the irises of her kosode, and she supposed if she wanted any chance with Prince Adrien, she would have to make a show of accepting his apology, even if it still stung.

“Very well.”

Kagami waited while Marinette carefully tucked the pins into her hair, and Kagami could not help but be impressed by this young girl’s generosity. She was a seamstress, but she had done far more for Kagami than any seamstress ought to, from her hair to her makeup to simply listening to Kagami’s heartbreak.

Kagami had never had someone she could count as a friend, and she was not sure that as a princess she could ever ask a peasant to be her friend, but for the first time in her life she imagined this must be what it felt like to have a friend.

“You are attending the ball tomorrow, correct?” Kagami asked.

“Oh… I was going to attend with Alya, but after today, I’m not sure—”

“Please attend.”

Marinette blinked, startled by the plea. It was so different from the controlled, commanding tone she was used to hearing Kagami speak with.

“I should like to meet your friend.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Marinette promised, and with a hasty curtsy, hurried to dress Princes Adrien and Félix.

Prince Adrien had taken his time on his walk back to Félix’s room. He’d used servants’ passages in an attempt to avoid anyone getting a good look at him or the bruises on his face. His heart felt hollow, wrung dry by his conversation with Ladybug. He was still hurt by the secrecy of the painting and worried about his father—though he imagined he would have heard something by now if his father had not made it out of the throne room safely. He wondered, too, why his father had taken the fay gift from Rena Rouge. He twisted the ring on his finger, trying to imagine what it would be like to have Plagg taken from him.

The black cat trotted after him, green eyes glinting in the dim light. He had not said anything, but Adrien had a feeling that as soon as the evening was over, Plagg was going to ask him to steal Trixx’s pendant back. Adrien wanted to, truly, but he also wanted to sleep. His late nights with Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng had taken their toll on him.

When he reached Félix’s bedroom door, Plagg leapt into Adrien’s pocket, shifting into his smaller fay shape as he did.

Félix had migrated from the bed to his desk, where his charcoals sat in front of him, but the sheaf of paper on his desk was blank. He twirled a pencil lazily in his hand. “Ladybug saved the day again?”

Adrien would never understand how Félix could be so bored by Ladybug’s magic. Most of the city, at the very least, admired the ladybug-like fay creatures that swarmed the city and undid Hawk Moth’s damage after each of Ladybug’s victories. Adrien was positively enamored with it.

“Hawk Moth created a curse that was powerful enough to bring the throne room down. Ladybug managed to save the guards in the throne room and put everything back together.” Almost everything. Adrien’s heart was still torn in two, but at least Ladybug had found him and tried to help.

“The king is fine?” Félix quirked an eyebrow, and Adrien could not quite read the expression there.

“I haven’t heard otherwise.” Adrien leaned against Félix’s desk and absentmindedly thumbed at his cousin’s stack of blank paper. He glimpsed fragments of sketches on the edges of buried sheets. He wasn’t interested in prying, not really, and only caught bits of black and white and gray. A feather here, an eye there, and a curl…

Adrien could not help himself. He knew the shape of that curl of hair, resting on top of a woman’s shoulder. Though he had not seen his mother since the day that she had fallen asleep, he could not forget her lifeless repose. He’d spent hours at her bedside, doing nothing but watching and crying, nothing but begging for her to wake up again.

“Is this… my mother?” Adrien asked.

Félix didn’t answer and Adrien continued to stare at the sketch until his eyes were blurry with tears and the sketch had dissolved into nothing but a gray, watery mist.

He took a moment to make sure he could speak without breaking before asking, “Have you seen the painting my father keeps in the throne room annex?”

Félix did his best to keep his face neutral. It was a long-practiced habit, but his sleepless night had left him raw. His instinct was to lie, but if secrets were not his to control anymore, he wasn’t sure what the point was in keeping them. He also couldn’t say which answer would hurt Adrien more.

“I have,” Félix finally murmured. “I saw it for the first time just the other day.”

Adrien considered the softness in Félix’s traditionally sharp voice. “Your father painted it?”

Félix nodded.

How foolish Adrien had been to think he was alone in his grief.

“I’m sorry,” Adrien said, and set the sketch back down on the desk.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. I just am.”

Adrien, hands still in search of something to do, something to fill his grief or to satisfy his magical penchant for mischief, picked up one of the charcoals. He rolled it between his fingers and watched the way it marked his hands, not unlike the twin bruises on his and his cousin’s faces.

He closed his eyes and searched for something stable inside of himself. He had cried too much today. He couldn’t afford any more tears, certainly not when he had to be presentable at a ball in just a few moments. Certainly not when he still had to face his father with the knowledge of the secret painting and what his father had done to Rena Rouge.

“Félix…”

Félix tucked the sketch back beneath the blank paper. “Hm.”

“Can you think of why Father would take a miraculous gift from someone?”

Félix’s heart accelerated as he recalled Gabriel tearing through his pockets last night as Nathalie held him in place and the strange thought that Gabriel had been disappointed to find Amelie and Michel’s ring, rather than the miraculous gift of destruction.

“No,” Féilx answered in what he hoped was distracted or off-hand way, but his mind was spinning. “What did he take?”

“The gift of illusion.”

“He stole the gift from Lila Rossi?”

Adrien wished it were all that simple. “Er—Chat Noir stole it from Lila, then gave it to Ladybug, who gave it to Rena Rouge, and Father stole it from Rena Rouge.”

Félix carefully set down the charcoal he had been holding and steadied himself against his desk. He felt dizzy with this information. Had the idea of gaining a miraculous through marriage had any influence on Gabriel’s decision to marry a Graham de Vanily? Was there some similar reason that Gabriel wanted Adrien to marry Princess Kagami?

And if Gabriel wanted miraculous gifts so badly, what was he doing with them?

A quick, efficient knock at the door announced Nathalie’s entrance, but Félix hardly heard her.

“Sorry for the delay,” Nathalie said, and hurried through Félix’s drawing room and into his bedroom. “There was an incident in the throne room.”

Nathalie set the tin of chalk powder that she had brought with her onto the dressing table. She eyed the mostly melted snow and the soaked napkins the boys had used. Well, at least they had used them. She’d been worried Félix would not bother out of some stubborn self-martyrdom.

As for Adrien, Nathalie could not imagine how he had hurt his face so similarly. Part of her wondered if the way Félix and Adrien had been created meant that they shared all injuries, but she imagined—or rather hoped—that Gabriel would have been aware of that before he had decided to strike Félix.

She turned to ask Adrien what had happened to him, but he had not followed her. Neither had Félix.

“We don’t have all the time in the world,” she called to them. “Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng is finishing up with Princess Tsurugi as we speak.”

Adrien was the first through the door, and he sat at the dressing table obediently. Félix trudged in moments later and sank onto his bed, arms folded over his chest.

Nathalie would let him sulk. She supposed his self-pity was not unwarranted.

Carefully, she dipped her fingers in the chalk mixture and smeared it across Adrien’s face. She started with the uninjured side before covering his bruised cheek as delicately as she could.

He wrinkled his nose. “Why does it smell so bad?”

“Vinegar.”

Adrien sighed. Perhaps it might keep Chloé and Lila from trying to kiss him. His nose burned, but he did not complain. He hardly even flinched as Nathalie’s fingers pressed tenderly against his bruise.

“What happened, Adrien?” she asked.

“I fell,” he said with a half-shrug.

Nathalie was unsatisfied, but she did not have time to press.

“Félix, you’re next,” she said.

There was a moment where Adrien and Nathalie alike thought that Félix would refuse to move from the bed, but it was a brief moment. Slowly, he got to his feet, and with the enthusiasm of a thief approaching the noose, slumped into the chair beside his dressing table.

Nathalie’s face was unchanged and her fingers just as delicate as she smeared the paste across Félix’s face as she had Adrien’s, but her heart twitched with sympathy.

Nathalie loved the princes, if only because they were both Queen Emilie’s children, and she loved Queen Emilie.

It was Queen Emilie who had graciously allowed her to take a leave of absence when her pregnancy had begun to show, and hired her back without question when Nathalie had returned to the castle with an infant and no husband. It was Queen Emilie who had found Nathalie in tears one morning because her child was sick with fever, and had ordered Nathalie to return home with pay. It was Queen Emilie who had continued to pay Nathalie for the rest of the month while Nathalie stayed home and grieved the loss of her child.

Nathalie loved Queen Emilie, and by extension she loved Gabriel and Adrien and Félix and Amelie. She knew their grief when Emilie had fallen asleep and Michel had disappeared because she had felt it too, and because she knew what it was to lose someone irreplaceable.

In Emilie’s honor, she had taken over managing the household staff. She had mourned privately and created space for the royal family to indulge in their grief as best as she could.

And when hers and Gabriel’s first attempt to claim the gifts of creation and destruction had gone awry, they had created a plan to bring Queen Emilie back. Their plan had meant that Gabriel would need her help managing the kingdom while he sought to claim the miraculous gifts, and she had readily agreed.

Her heart ached for Félix’s predicament, and Adrien’s, too, but if all worked out as she and Gabriel planned and hoped, then Emilie would be returned to them before the boys’ birthday, and Nathalie would see to it that everything was set right again.

She eyed Félix and Adrien’s faces, checking for the evenness of the powder and just how much of the bruise was evident beneath her cover-up. The swelling had lowered considerably, but their cheeks were still puffy if someone knew what to look for. The color, however, was nigh invisible. It would have to do.

Nathalie capped the tin of chalk. “I’ll send for Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng. You ought to put on something more appropriate before meeting her in the fitting room.”

The princes dressed, though with little enthusiasm. Nathalie could not recall seeing the princes this solemn since Michel’s funerary services. But she said nothing, merely made them as presentable as she could, and sent them on their way.

Once they arrived in the fitting room, Adrien balked in the doorway. Ladybug’s kiss was still smeared on the looking glass.

Félix looked at the pale smudge and scoffed. “What self-obsessed person left that?”

But Adrien’s heart pounded. So her brilliant red lips that he had dreamed of kissing were purely from her magic. Beneath it all she was… someone else.

He flexed his hand and remembered the feeling of her calloused finger tips. With hands like that, she must work for a living. He should have known; she had always said she was not truly a lady. Would he ever know the truth of who she was?

The knock on the door was gentle, a suggestion more than an interruption.

“Enter,” Félix snapped when Adrien said nothing, and Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng pushed open the door.

She curtsied deeply to both princes and kept her eyes on the floor. “Your Highnesses, I am at your service.”

Félix went first, and Adrien sank into the nearby chair to watch. Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng was as professional as ever as she helped Félix into the white doublet and black jerkin. Her eyes were heavily shadowed, and Adrien wondered how many long nights she had poured into these outfits for the ball. Her hands, however, were steady and her jaw set in a firm line. She was here to do a job, and she would do it well.

When she was finished with Félix, Adrien took his turn. This time, he took a moment to appreciate the black lining she had sewn in out of respect for his grief, and he was surprised when she fastened a black doublet around his chest. The jerkin, however, was white. As Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng fastened his sleeves, he glanced up at his own reflection and at Félix’s, standing just behind him.

They looked more like twins than they ever had before.

Adrien’s jerkin was not just white; it was crafted from shot silk that shimmered white and gold in the late afternoon sun. It was embroidered with the stenciled designs of purple, green, and gold chrysanthemums, and beneath it was a black doublet with a matching embroidered pattern in gold to bring out the shifts in the shot silk.

Félix’s was identical in structure—embroidered chrysanthemums on shot silk—but his jerkin was woven with black and silver silk and embroidered in white flowers; his doublet was white with silver embroidery. It was a much more somber variation of Adrien’s, but the contrast served them well.

Adrien wondered if he would ever stop being amazed with Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng’s work.

He wondered if she would let him kiss her again.

“I’m not sure how to thank you for all you’ve done,” Adrien murmured as she adjusted the fit between the sleeves of his chemise and the doublet.

Marinette’s cheeks flared red. She had been grateful for the somber mood between both princes. She was not quite capable of conversation today, not between her exhaustion and everything that had happened with Alya and Chat Noir. It had been quite enough to explain it all to Kagami.

“It’s my dog—I mean—my job.”

“You do it well.” More than well. Adrien had, just moments ago, hid behind that mirror and agonized over his love for his father and Ladybug, and how that love would never be reciprocated in the way that he wished for. But Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng had seen him before he had even asked. She had listened to his grief and respected it. Maybe she wasn’t the heroine that he had first fallen in love with, but she was certainly someone worth loving.

“Would you—” Adrien caught himself. He had been about to ask her to dance with him at the ball, but remembered that he only knew that she would be attending because he had asked her as Chat Noir. He reframed his question. “I mean, do you have plans to attend the ball?”

Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng tucked her needle into the spool of thread and dropped it into her apron pocket. Carefully she gathered up the wrappings from the delivery boxes and began to fold them. “I had plans to attend tomorrow evening,” she said.

Adrien’s heart sank. “Had?”

Marinette bit down on her cheek. Though Alya had told her to, she did not see what point there was to asking the princes about Trixx. They had not been in the throne room, had not been there when King Gabriel had made his decision to take the fay from Alya.

“I was planning to attend with a friend,” she said. “But I don’t believe my friend will be allowed to return after… well, I don’t believe she’d want to return.”

“Who is your friend?”

“Alya Césaire.”

Adrien searched his memory for any meaning to the name. He thought he remembered a Césaire involved with the kitchens or food of some sort, but he could not remember any recent incidents with the name. “What happened?”

“She—well, she nearly destroyed the throne room today. Because King Gabriel stole her miraculous gift from her, and Hawk Moth took advantage of her anger.”

Adrien tried to put Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng beside Rena Rouge, the confident trickster whom he had met only briefly. Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng was quiet, self-assured, and prone to strange outbursts as she stumbled over her words. Rena Rouge was loud and playful. He wondered what it was that held their friendship together.

“Traditionally,” Félix said, “people aren’t exiled for something that happened to them under Hawk Moth’s influence. Otherwise, we’d be well-rid of the Bourgeois family ages ago.”

“Traditionally, people don’t try to collapse the throne room on top of the king,” Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng pointed out. “But exiled or not, I don’t expect she’ll even want to come to the ball after the king stole a miraculous gift from her.”

“We’ll get it back,” Adrien said, without hesitation.

Félix raised an eyebrow. “We will?”

Adrien reconsidered where he was and who he was with. “We’ll ask for it back. We’ll figure it out.” And if asking didn’t work, well… Adrien knew of a very good thief.

Marinette managed to meet Prince Adrien’s eyes. They seemed to shimmer like the shot silk he was dressed in. Something was off about his face… It was powdered, but that wasn’t what was bothering her.

“Why are you offering to help?” she asked.

“Good question,” Félix grunted.

“Because your friend didn’t deserve what happened to her.” Adrien might have only a handful of details, and he trusted that his father had a good reason, but he also trusted what Ladybug had told him. And he still believed he could find a way to make it right.

He took Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng’s hand in his. Her fingertips were calloused from years of pressing needles through fabric and her hands rough.

“Also,” he said softly, “I’d like you to be there tomorrow night. I’d like to share a dance with you.”

Marinette’s face was so warm she thought she might simply collapse to the floor. She struggled for a response. “I—I’m promised.”

Adrien bit down on his tongue and let her hand fall. “Oh. Of course.”

“I mean—I mean I have promised—I already promised a dance to someone.”

“I… see.”

Marinette was not entirely sure what the connections between her heart, her head, and her words were doing but she heard herself say, “But I have room for a dance with you, too.”

Prince Adrien smiled hesitantly and Marinette very nearly melted into the floor. “Then I look forward to it. Thank you, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng.”

He bowed to her and she hardly had time to register the gesture before he and Félix were gone, and she belatedly dropped into a curtsy to absolutely no one but her own reflection. Finally, upon realizing her foolishness, she let herself fall to the floor.

“Tikki,” she gasped, “what did I just do?”

[housecow]

Of all the horngy food posting feedees on Tumblr, I think you gave the best taste. That yellowfin looks divine 😍

IT WAS AMAZING!!!!!!!!! decadent asf, while everything on that plate was fantastic i am a sucker for yellowtail especially… it was slightly charred with some smoked soy 😍😍😍

[wandering-submissivegirl]

Tell us, in 250 words or more, why you would make and be a perfect secretary for your Owner.

First and foremost. I would make a good secretary for my owner because I’m just a girl. Girls should aspire to be things like secretaries, strippers, prostitutes, air hostesses, porn or influencers for other girls. There is no reason for me, as a girl, to ever aim higher than being a messenger and to look pretty for anyone who has to meet my owner. I would make a good secretary because I would dress appropriately, as in, I would wear what I’m told to. This means my owners friends would enjoy looking at me and also it would remind my owner I am available for him whenever he needs me or needs stress relief. As a secretary I would work my little brain off to make sure my owner knew exactly what he had to do each day. Bring him drinks and his lunch and just generally be a good girl for him. This is important because he needs to know that my mouth, or any other hole, is clean and available whenever he needs it. As a girl I am capable of multi tasking. I can look pretty and remember stuff. So while I have a cock stuffed down my throat I can remember in my head that he has a meeting later that day. I also have space on my body to write important messages so he can see for himself what needs doing whilst using me. I hope after proving to him what a good secretary I can be he will be pleased with my efforts and suitably reward me with new clothes and an upgrade to be a better girl for him. Because after all. I am just a girl

[cosmicspark24]

What I love about each sign

Aries: Aries, you give me life. There is something to the way that you so passionately tell a story of all you've conquered. Tales of you leading the charge through social injustice, in the face of authority. When evolved, you stand so strongly in your morals and I admire that. You want to protect your loved ones with anything you've got; your brains, your body or a weapon. Your hearts are big and pure. You use humour and friendly bullying to show you care. The secret is you are really sensitive and use your brawn as a shield against the soft centre. You demand authenticity from those around you and can be very forceful when you feel people are avoiding confrontation. You hate letting things fester. Aries men, find you someone who will let you be their baby. Aries women, you burst into the room with purpose and love. You mark your targets in friends and lovers alike, they melt at your feet, soaking in your radiance. Yes, you are so focused on your own goals and achievements but you have enough room in your world for love and achievement. I admire your decisiveness and the gumption with which you defend your right to be yourself. You refuse to change on any other person's whim but your own.  Your love feels like fun roughhousing followed by a passionate make-out session.

Taurus: Taurus, the energy that moulded me. I was raised by a Taurus woman, and as such attract so many Taurean friends (mainly women). Taurus, you are firmly rooted in the reality of the material world. You are keenly aware of your own money and everyone else's. Trust a Taurus to find out what everyone's earning around them. I find beauty in the way that you communicate. You are care so much about your friends and loved ones. You care so much that you do not always care about how people feel in the moment, if the feedback or criticism you provide is for their own good. You are the mum friend in so many ways. You are the friend to make sure everyone's eating well. Whether the bill is on you or you lovingly homemade it. Taurean women are so sensual and feminine. I adore your commitment to self-care. There's not a Taurus in my life who isn't concerned with their own beauty. Taurean women, I adore that you have hobbies. A lot of the time these are your typical cottagecore hobbies like cooking, baking, whittling, sewing etc. Taurean women are the perfect balance of grounded, earthy femininity with the strength of will from their being a fixed sign. Taurean men, when they let you in, are such care-bears. Good luck getting out of their grip or out of the house.

Gemini: Gemini, you cheeky devil. Gemini, I adore you for everything that an air sign it. I enjoy your ability to engage in varied, fluid and intellectual conversations. I enjoy the way that you play games with people. The way you cause chaos for your own pleasure and enjoyment. I love your hands. I love how animated and excited you get when you engage in discussing your favourite topics. I love how genuinely open-minded you are. You have friends and lovers from all walks of life, in a true show of your values. I love the way you are not tied down to any thought, feeling or opinion on anything.

Cancer: Cancer, you soft gentle soul. I want to scoop you up in my arms and love you forever. Cancer, you make a great host/hostess. Being in your company, I know I am safe and in good hands. Your home is comfortable and a safe space for yourself first and foremost but you would easily extend that to those you love. Cancer women, you are so wifey and you love it. I love this for you. I enjoy your adventurousness. You somehow manage to be both a homebody and be getting up to some stuff. The way you can study hard, work hard, climb that corporate ladder in an understanded way. In a way that ruffles as little feathers as possible yet garners so much social support. How could we not support you, dear Cancer? You make sure everyone around you is emotionally safe. You are such a comfortable person to talk to. I love your cautious nature. You just want to be sure before you make a move. You have people to protect, most of all yourself and your loved ones. Cancer men, your sense of family and responsibility can be something formidable.

Leo: Leo, you sexy thang. Oh Leo, how I adore your energy. You are blindingly brilliant. You are the cheerleader firstly for yourself, then of course for your friends and lovers. You are such a flirtatious, romantic, creative and fun-loving. Your ego needs the occasional stroking but isn't a bit of ego healthy? You stand out and are popular without trying. You are so engaging when you tell stories and it's so cute that you want everyone to be enamoured by your tales of leadership and sexual prowess. Leo women, you are so deliciously playful. Down for anything, down for a good time, being the life of the party. Hair thick and always somehow at the centre of your aesthetic. Leo Men, oh how I love your arrogance. Like a moth to a flame. Something about the overconfidence. Those knowing, proud grins. Those big broad backs. Yum.

Virgo: Virgo, you perfectionist. Virgo, I love you for your ability to read a room to filth. You'd have everyone ready to go home and weep if you were as honest as you could be about your critical observations. You are so blessed with your ability to work diligently for what you want. You have the ability to play the long game. Your ability to anticipate the physical needs of those around you and to make an environment more harmonious with the attention and care you give is second-to-none. Virgo women, I enjoy your femininity. Your ability to draw in interest from your naïveté whether real or imaged. The attention that you take towards looking your best. No matter how messy another area of your life is, you always look perfectly preened. Virgo men, you can make great friends. You can gossip and bitch with the best of them. For some, this can make you a great lover as well. Virgo men, you know how to look good. Out of all the men of the zodiac, you are to me the most polished.

Libra: Libra, you excite me. From one libra to another, I see you. The way you know how to work a room. The way you quickly adjust to any environment you are in. The way people underestimate your intelligence because you also like the colour pink. Libra, you are a core member of your friendship group. Keeping things in check and everyone happy. The way you want to make sure everyone's included. The way you appreciate beauty everywhere you go; from clothing, to nature, to your lovers. To seduce you is to entice you with beauty and harmony. Libra women, I adore your ability to balance your feminine and your masculine. You will be well mannered and give the picture of compromise and submission while also being a boss ass bitch. Libra men, you make fantastic lovers. Venus herself has gifted you with the ability to woo a woman. You know how to please and that is through the same things you derive pleasure; companionship, good food, cultured activities and a satisfying love life. I adore Libra women for their masculinity and Libra men for their femininity.

Scorpio: Scorpio, you terrify me. I like being terrified. You can call me a glutton for punishment. Scorpion eyes truly are the window to the soul. Yours and mine. You are reflecting myself back at me. It's the way your stare penetrates into the deep recesses of my being. Scorpio, I love you for your emotions. You feel at a depth and intensity that would overwhelm a normal man. You fight to hell and back everyday to be the best version of yourself. You are so cynical yet what a capacity to love. To be loved by a Scorpio is to be consumed. The way you test the people in your life. Those you love and those that you play with for fun. The little mind games, the testing of the boundaries. The stalking. No one can investigate better than a Scorpio. You're so stubborn and it takes a special kind of person to enjoy this aspect of you. Scorpio women, you are very driven. You are the definition of badass. You are scarier than your male counterparts. Scorpio men, you are so precious. You are so intelligent, driven, bossy and sexy. Your sex appeal walks into the room before you do. Yet you are ever the gentleman. Never conventional either. Almost always a lone wolf. A Scorpio man will dig and burrow into your very depths, think carefully before indulging.

Sagittarius: Sagittarius, you nomad. I love your casual philosophising over a glass of wine while looking up at the stars, wondering where your next destination will be. Your friends are likely; smart, quirky, sporty, cultured, multicultural or very casual. You've either already travelled to 11 countries from your bucket list, have plans to travel or have an interest in other cultures. I love hearing about your travel stories, or that one time you did a spiritual ceremony with your neighbours from a small tribal group, or about how your thoughts on life and philosophy are facts. I love how bull-headed you are about your beliefs. Your insatiable need to learn and expand and grow is something that is so beautiful about you. Sagittarius women, I love how blunt and carefree you are. You are exciting and down to have a good time. Nothing is ever really that deep until you decide to go sell everything to chase a dream. Sagittarius men, those thighs. Anyway, it's fun flirting with you. With your dry humour and intellectual quips. You wanna be chased a little, admit it.

Capricorn: Capricorn, you werk. Capricorn, you make hard work look easy. You make it look easy and you deny that it was ever hard to accomplish. Your ability to zone in on a goal and then work on achieving it is second-to-none. I love how dry your humour is. You are practical, but you also know how to enjoy yourself. Oh, you'll indulge. Material pleasures; food, sex, alcohol. Capricorn women, I've always thought you are really easy friends to have. Focused on your goals, still warm, funny and friendly. Not too attached. A Capricorn will always get you an amazing, well-thought out gift. You know how to put your money where your mouth is. Capricorn men, I really love your physique. Also, a Capricorn man, all dressed up nice and formal. We all know Capricorn is the ultimate Daddy energy.

Aquarius: Aquarius, you trendsetter. To know an Aquarius is to love or hate them no in-between. Talk about someone who is truly themselves. I love you for your no-bullshit, no-nonsense, cut-to-the-chase, dry sense of self. You hold onto friendships, so many more than the regular person. You will have your friends from preschool as well as all these friends in person and ones you keep up with only electronically. You are loved and adored amongst your friends even as polarising as you are. It is a crazy feat to be so blatant in your words and actions, to cause trouble through those same attributes in your friendship groups, yet somehow always come up on top. You treat people fairly, almost to an aggravating degree. Do your friends and girlfriend have to get similar treatment out of fairness? Well, according to you. You bow to no one. Your god-complex is not a secret. We have to accept it and you for all that you are as there is no room in your life for faking it. There's no point. Aquarius women, keep being the one to stand up for others in a room. For daring to stand up to the powers that be as a woman and simply say, fuck you. Aquarius men, I have not dated you probably because my brother is one and that is plenty.

Pisces: Pisces, you dreamy one you. I adore the way you want to see the best in everything. You are so sensitive to everyone and the vibes. Your mind and heart want to explore the best of all the pleasures of life. Drink, art, sex, love, the depths of emotions. Pisces women, you are so soft and so sweet. So capable but not always trusting of yourselves. Pisces men, you wear your heart on your sleeve. You use your soft, romantic side in the forefront of your courtship. You just want to attach to someone who accepts you for everything you are at your core. Who sees all your wrongs and your rights and takes it all. You've gone through so much to get to where you are, and it's why you have a propensity for escapism. That's something I can relate to as an old soul.

@cosmicspark24

[brightymir]

Weird request but- if that's okay could i request Zenitsu, Tanjiro and Inosuke with a demon slayer reader that comes from another country but knows doesn't know japanese? Like the first time they met for a mission they literally communicate with gestures. They do learn pretty quickly in the end but their lack of knowledge often leads to hilarious situations/shenanigans (So crack basically!!).

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 [ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 / 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬]

cw: contains manga spoilers (entertainment district arc), language

word count: 1.1k

characters: tanjiro, inosuke, zenitsu x gn!reader

author's note: omggg this is the first req i've received and i'm glad that ppl want to read my works! i'll do my best here even though i'm not that good at crack! thank you sm and have a great day <3

oiran - used to address a high-ranking prostitute in taisho period of japan

kamaboko squad || hashira pt. 1 || hashira pt. 2

❄︎ tanjiro kamado

first and foremost this guy is amazed, and also kinda puzzled that demon slayers existed outside japan

you stumbled upon him when he was going undercover as a hostess too in the red light district

you two immediately recognized each other, because of his keen sense of smell and because of your sharp eyes

IT WAS A MESS

you resorted to just helping the people evacuate because you did not want to get in the way of combat

you learned japanese pretty quickly but there was still some naivety when it comes to their inside jokes and culture

a lot of dumb moments with this guy

it was a mess, because you two cannot understand each other. it was a whole two hours of gestures and drawing of diagrams and pictures. you had to hold back your laugh at tanjiro's poor illustration of his friends and the pillar. after confirming each other's identity, tanjiro brought you to the meet up place of him, inosuke, zenitsu and uzui.

there was one thing though, the language barrier. the only thing that made communication possible was because of uzui's knowledge of the language you speak, being a former shinobi

you managed to get your message across, that you'll be responsible for evacuating the people, since the four of them are the ones who are able to communicate during combat

after that, you sticked to tanjiro, and the two of you managed to understand each other. it was funny at times though, because you are gullible, and he's an airhead

"so, the pillar that night is the god of flamboyance?" you asked, you never knew that japan had these kinds of god. he nodded feverently as he continued to eat.

"how about you, which do you rule over?" you inquired and he stopped eating, looking straight at your eyes. he blinked once, twice, thrice.

"rule over?" he asked back

"yes, aren't you a god too?" you queried carefully. he put down his chopsticks and began to blink rapidly. he pointed to himself and tilted his head while looking back at you

"i'm a god?"

"are you not?" he seemed like someone who could be the god of honesty, because he was not capable of lying. he racked his brains for answers before giving a firm nod at you

"i am"

❄︎ inosuke hashibira

the two of you first met at his solo mission at a nearby town

you were on your way to the headquarters because oyakata-sama requested for some aid and manpower from foreign demon slayer corps

THIS GUY WILL UNDERSTAND IMMEDIATELY

his guesses are not on point but he gets what you're trying to say

even as you learn japanese steadily, this guy will make everything about him

teaches you boar language as well

you were staying at a rest house when a commotion occurred outside. grabbing your sword, you saw a boar head sparring with a demon. apparently, one managed to escape your hold earlier. you opted to get the people to safety to prevent damages

afterwards, you tried to introduce yourself to him and explain your situation but it took a few tries before he understood you (with the help of his kasugai crow).

you weren't able to meet oyakata-sama yet because of personal reasons, so inosuke insisted on taking a detour on the mountains, he taught you a few words that could be useful when communicating during missions

"so you're the boss?" you asked with wide eyes as he let out a boisterous laugh while nodding in agreement

"and you're also the god of the mountain?" you continued, watching as he relished in your acknowledgement and praise. "do you have a shrine? or a temple?" you asked, making him stop in his tracks

dear god you just inserted a new idea in his head.

the next time you meet him was when your aid was needed in a mission in the red light district. remembering that he told you that he was the boss, you exclaimed and greeted him from a distance

"oyakata-sama!!!" you shouted, making tanjiro and zenitsu freeze. uzui's eyes almost popped out of its sockets as he glared down at inosuke.

"WHAT NONSENSE HAVE YOU BEEN TEACHING THE FOREIGN MEMBER!? HOW DARE YOU INTRODUCE YOURSELF AS OYAKATA-SAMA!?"

you didn't mean to almost end inosuke's life by the hands of uzui, but, he is oyakata-sama? right?

❄︎ zenitsu agatsuma

exhilarated at the thought of a new female slayer joining their missions

TRIES SO HARD TO UNDERSTAND YOU

to the point he wants you to teach him your language

the two of you met at the butterfly estate when he was recuperating

you popped in sometimes during their training and during your breaks from japanese lessons

saves you from tanjiro's and inosuke's dumb concepts

"y/n-chaaaan~" he called out upon hearing your footsteps approach them, making him pause from training. he grumbled in annoyance when aoi pulled him back.

introduction was quick, because his enthusiasm went through the roof, and he understood your drawings and diagrams and broken japanese while explaining your circumstances

literally pulls you away from tanjiro and inosuke because he knows that those two will try to trick you into believing false things about japan and its culture

however, he can't always keep his eyes on you

so one day, when you two were training, you brought up a topic that you got from a reliable source (tanjiro and inosuke)

"hey, zenitsu, what's it like being an oiran?" you asked innocently, cleaning the blade of your sword. zenitsu, on the other hand, looked like he was about to butcher two people soon

"w-wha- where did you even get that term?" he asked slowly but you can see his eyes filled with bloodlust. oh how he wanted to bury his friends 6ft underground right now

"well, tanjiro and inosuke told me that you were an oiran" you said, making steam go out of zenitsu's ears

"what did they tell you it meant?" he treaded lightly, making you turn to him confusedly. "well, they told me it is used to address someone who almost turned into a spider" you answered back and zenitsu did not whether to laugh or cry. "i heard about the natagumo mountain mission, there are a lot of oiran in the corps, huh?" you muttered to yourself

safe to say, zenitsu made tanjiro and inosuke feel what it feels to be almost turned into a spider

© 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐘𝐌𝐈𝐑 2021 - all rights reserved. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or share my work on other platforms. thank you.

[rimouskis]

so I went to seattle

(looong post ahead)

I travelled! far!!! to a place I haven't been since I was, like... 11, maybe? 12? it's hard to remember, but it has been SUCH a long time since I've been west of, like, St. Louis, and god it feels good (more on that later).

first and foremost: I got to meet the lovely @ticklefighthockey!! she is a delight! she is an immaculate hostess! she has two very adorable dogs who rule her household! she is very good at being game for just about anything!

it was such a treat to meet up with another fandom friend. I am (more on this later) working myself towards a self-understanding that has room for respecting online friendships just as much as in-person ones. I think I still sometimes deal with residual shame over having more online friends than offline friends—just cultural baggage that says people with online friends are losers and socially-inept and weird. while I KNOW that isn't true, I've always had complicated feelings about the fact that since college my primary friendship circle has ALWAYS been online, while that has never been true for people in my offline life.

but (more on this later as well), I'm trying to be more understanding and kind towards myself about that, and trying to embrace the crazy cool uniqueness of it, which is a real gift.

anyways, back to fandom friends I get to hang out with:

isn't that amazing. I was agog at it.

jes is funny and engaging and game for anything! this is wonderful for me, a person who tries very hard to be funny and engaging and game for anything! of course, this meant we were aggressively "NO I WANT YOU TO HAVE THE BEST EXPERIENCE POSSIBLE DURING THIS VISIT"-ing at each other constantly through the entire weekend. truly the Nice Gal version of two rams clacking horns, but instead of fighting over potential mates (hi Sid) we were beating each other's skulls silly and yelling "NO BUT WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO?"

highly amusing to me, but also very conducive to, in fact, having the best experience possible. we ran around town desperately trying to cram things into an incredibly condensed schedule, but I felt like I saw so much!

we were able to take her dogs—who are truly delightful and DECEPTIVELY YOUNG. you wouldn't know from how she talks about pip but he is 100% pure muscle (could give hornqvist a run for his money) and deeply willing to play tug-of-war until someone dies (it will be you. you will be the one to die. he will win.) and darling ruthie who will hate you until she decides she likes you (this will likely involve carrots) and after she likes you she does indeed become the precious angel baby of legend—out on an OUTDOOR HIKE! through a FOREST! near a LAKE!

these are in fact pedestrian things in seattle but to me, a poor midwesterner who lives on the very very tippy top of the appalachian region, this was GREAT FUN and MUCH EXCITEMENT. so we harnessed the dogs and embarked upon what we thought was a leisurely 4.2 mile hike and instead ended up being a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am-please-take-care-not-to-step-off-the-path-by-a-few-inches-lest-you-immediately-tumble-down-a-hundred-foot-ravine-to-your-grisly-(but-green-and-verdant!)-death-while-also-dragging-a-muscled-dog-with-you 0.42 mile MAD DASH.

we sped through it thanks to aforementioned muscled dog (and sister) having zero regard for imminent death (who cares about PERILOUS TRAILS when there are THINGS TO SNIFF) and at its end was a lake! wow!

it was gorgeous and lovely and I would, in fact, hike a death-defying 0.42 miles again to see it.

then I successfully talked jes into letting me swing by pike place market (literally solely for the 'gram), but there was some fall festival going on, which is cute but also made it crowded as shit, so I took my coveted pic and bolted

walking through downtown seattle was nice, even if I had to kind of jog because my days of making friends who are shorter than me (which is a feat) are over, and I am now cursed with friends who are in fact above average height, which makes me feel weird and also short (which I am). I liked seeing the city and also sort of being able to confirm that the city is nice and good and not what the NIMBYs and right-wing pundits would have you believe has happened to seattle. it's a good city! it's beautiful! literally everyone I met was so nice! (except for one kraken fan but we'll get to him).

speaking of hockey:

my god, does seattle know how to put on a show. I was agog at the arena. it is shiny and new and impressive and beautiful and full of wood paneling and GREENERY and all the athletic, clear-faced seattleites who occupy the city. I was in a state of shock. this is, in fact, the first NHL arena I've been to that isn't PPG Paints.

and it is so beautiful that i was immediately consumed with envy. how dare this new team, with all its west coast wealth, have better accommodations and audiovisuals and LIGHT UP SCULPTURES than my legacy appalachian team?

I swallowed my jealousy down and just took it all in. they basically put on a full amazon original before each period. there is LORE and the kraken entreat you to buy into it with full casts and impressive animations and a glow-in-the-dark tentacle erupting out of the ice. it is very effective. I did, in fact, buy merch.

also I dragged jes around during an intermission to track down the band and drumline because I fucking love a good drumline and if the pens knew what was good for them they would iNVEST IN A DRUMLINE

but I was thinking to myself that this is literally exactly how you build a fanbase. this is hockey made thrilling. this is excitement. this is a PRODUCTION. this is what the golden knights want to be. this is, verily, the exact sort of shindig I would bring a kid to if I endeavored to make them into a hockey fan. I think it would work. it was a whole experience in the way pens games just... are not. pens games are hockey games! a kraken game is a circus, a TV show, and a lightshow with also some hockey. I was so blown away.

but let's get to why I was there:

DAN POTASH.

and also some guys I guess:

I'm pleased to report geno looks as pretty in white in person as he does on tv. he is so big. he never, as jes puts it, shuts his mouth. ever.

sid was also there I guess. here's a rearview shot:

jes got to witness firsthand how I physically cannot shut up during a hockey game (I regret to inform you all that I am the "talking to the players/the universe in a desperate plea for good bounces" sort of fan), and was also witness to me laughing hysterically, truly like a madwoman, when the two kraken goals were called back. jes has a better recap of the game, but I can just say that I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I have seen much more embarrassing defeats at the hands of much less entertaining teams, so I was ready to bear that cross.

that being said, there was a drunk kraken fan the row ahead of us who was verbally harassing a penguins fan in his row. he was yelling at him, trying to get his attention by calling him "letang" (the jersey the pens fan was wearing), and even threw the free giveaway hat at him to try and get his attention. mr. not-letang very smartly sat still and refused to look over. I was disappointed at that behavior and also really displeased that the drunk fan's friend didn't do jack shit to stop his behavior... but that's drunk people for you, I guess!

anyways when the kraken scored the (first) empty netter I turned to jes and said we should blow this popsicle stand. and that we did lol. I regret none of it! pens you suck and I love you so dearly <3

the next day I tearfully said goodbye to my new best friend, ruthie, and then maybe waved at jes idk who cares (I'm joking, we—after very extensive fanfic brainstorming sessions in the car to and from brunch—expressed SO EARNESTLY and HEARTFELT-LY how much we enjoyed the trip, as we were both so determined to Get A Good Grade In Visiting Fandom Friends, Something Normal To Want And Possible To Achieve).

and then I got to see my aunt and uncle! they moved out there for the tech boom back in the 90s and have been there ever since. they're incredibly cool and we talked SO much

(something else I've learned about myself as an adult: I talk way too fucking much. I thought it was bad when I had an in-person job, and now that I do WFH it's literally like I'm being paid by the word I speak. big kudos to anyone who's withstood being near me for longer than an hour).

my aunt took me on a hike and we got to see old-growth forest AND a lake AND the skyline, which was so sick

talking with her was incredible. she's a very interesting person and a complete city-slicker and is... kind of eerily like me? like I saw a lot of similarities between her and I as we talked and interacted with my uncle. we have similar communication styles and I see myself a bit in her. something that's heartening to me is that she's, like... in her late 50s and childless and so youthful and full of attack attack go go go energy and has the same ruthless desire to UNDERSTAND and BE UNDERSTOOD that I do, and I liked talking with her. she's so receptive to youth culture and to aspects of things she doesn't understand in her quest to understand them, and it makes for such engaging conversation.

my uncle, too, is really neat. I like him so much, and I wish I knew more about him? my dad is so reticent about his family sometimes, and I'm still so desperately trying to tease out the full story of what growing up in that family was like (for longtime followers, this is my uncle who got written out of my grandma's will). he has great energy and is pretty chill (and was literally recovering from intense hip surgery while I was there, he's such a champ haha) and I wish I could see him and my dad interact more. why did all my dad's brothers have to scatter across this country??

he found me interesting, I could tell, and that was really validating and nice. we had awesome conversations about how I got into hockey (my aunt is super, like... 2nd-wave-y feminist and does not get my hockey love due to the sport's chauvinism) and also how I found community online. my aunt is a writer in her free time and hasn't ever really been able to find her niche online and really wanted my input about how I'd been able to befriend people across the country, and world, online.

that too was really validating and cool. I've always sort of put myself down about not having as many IRL friends, but seeing it through their eyes sort of helped me shift my mindset. I DO have amazing friends! they're close mentally if not physically! and they lead to amazing things! they were so jazzed about me hosting friends from all over the country who'd come to visit me in the name of hockey. while I get all whiny about not having enough people to do stuff with locally, my aunt was like "you have friends WHERE?" and they were so into it. they loved that I had worldwide friends and was finding connection wherever I went. it was great.

also we saw jesus at a grocery store. yes, it was halloween, but it was a funny encounter. he was in the produce section.

then we went to a WATERFALL that was TERRIFYING IN ITS SCALE

this thing was incredible and man... man... I need to go back. I have to. I always thought as a kid that I'd end up moving out west. even before my twilight phase got me fully obsessed with washington, I loved the look and nature and majesty of the PNW. since the first time I visited there, I knew something about that area spoke to me.

and it was so, so cool to reconnect with that after over a decade away. when I was there I felt like a sort of... idealized version of myself. like that version was within reach. that I could become a really cool version of myself if I lived there. an alternate path, you know?

maybe the PNW is in my future. it could be. I always thought it would be as a kid. funnily enough, a hockey team got in the way and sent me east instead, but like I always say... I don't know if pittsburgh is forever! I want to live a grand adventure, and I want to live many places, and maybe one day I wind up there for a spell.

there's just something about that part of the country. something about me when I'm there.

this was such a good vacation. it was short, but it was honestly practically idyllic. I will be back. hopefully soon. there is so much unexplored... I want to devour that state over a summer one day.

people are great. friends are great. family is great. nature is great. life is good.

[tsundanire]

Draco Malfoy and the N.A.S.T.Y. Problem Pt 1

First and foremost let me just go ahead and assure you that this is the most un-beta'd, crack-iest, bullshit you will probably read from me...this month? I can't make any promises about the rest of the year this early. Please note that this is based off an image I will drop at the bottom of this part, and a hilariously cracky conversation from the Drarry Discord Server. I will be posting this in several parts over the next few days on tumblr, and then will likely add the completed/polished version to Ao3 all at once at the end. Without further ado... Draco and his N.A.S.T.Y.'s...

...

...

Having grown up in the upper echelons of Wizarding social classes, Draco Malfoy was an expert in social customs. For birthdays, he made sure to send out hand-calligraphed invitations, and matching thank-you cards following the event. For Holidays and other social gatherings, he made sure to Owl an appropriate host/hostess gift, as well as a hand-penned note thanking them for their gracious invitation—regardless of whether he wanted to be there or not.

Professor McGonagall had once received a note of thanks from a much younger Draco, upon receiving his Hogwarts Letter. It hadn’t helped endear her to him in the end, but at least he could look back—nose haughtily pointed high—and say he had far better manners than the future Headmistress.

So, during his first year, when the time came to formally choose his life-time partner arch-nemesis, no one else besides one Harold Jimothy Potter would do. And so, our valiant Slytherin hero set to work, drafting a N.A.S.T.Y. otherwise known in long-form as: Notification of Adjusting Social Terms of Yokefellows.

The neatly scripted font, written in gold ink, and formalised on stunning—and expensive—black parchment, was sealed with the Malfoy crest, and was sent via owl within days to Potter. It was received during breakfast the following morning, along with a bevy of fan-mail and a rather soggy looking Daily Prophet—which Potter insultingly took more interest in than his N.A.S.T.Y.

Breakfast was almost finished, most of his friends—besides Granger—had already set off for class or whatever the hell it was Gryffindors did in the morning, before Potter finally noticed the artfully folded black parchment bearing his family’s seal. Confusion marred his brow, as he tore through the seal, ripping some of the paper in the process. Draco’s brow twitched angrily, but then again, who could have expected anything else where stupid dumb Potter was concerned.

Draco knew the letter’s contents off by heart, having gone through several variations of the draft in order to get the wording just right.

Harold Jimothy Potter,

Below you will find a N.A.S.T.Y. shifting our social arrangement. It is with this that I do declare us Arch-nemeses. Nemesi? Whatever. You’ll find below the terms and conditions for said arrangement, including the things I expect from our new relationship, as well as what I am open to doing for you. Should you have any questions, concerns, or amendments you wish to re-negotiate, please forward this letter back via owlpost with your notes.

Looking forward to a life-long partnership in mutual hate and distaste,

Draco Lucius Malfoy.

Notification of Adjusting Social Terms of Yokefellows

This notice is to inform you of my interest in becoming: Friends Lovers Enemies Arch-nemeses ✔

As such, I would like our relationship to include:

Video games | Make-outs | Sword Fights ✔

Movies | Sex | Ritualistic Sacrifice ✔

Pets | Cuddling | Elaborate Kidnapping ✔

Bees ✔ | Furry Masks | Demonic summoning ✔

Cheese Plates ✔ | Screaming ✔ | Homoerotic Banter ✔ ✔

Please return via Owlpost with your signature attached if you agree to the terms. If not, please use the space below to indicate your concerns or amendments.

Yours amicably Yours adoringly Your reckoning is coming ✔

X___Draco Lucius Malfoy___ X___________________

Potter’s expression was blank for a moment as he read over the words, but then…it morphed into a masquerade of feelings and emotions, nothing sticking long enough for Draco to be able to decipher them. Seeming to settle on confusion, Potter turned in his seat, narrowing his eyes towards the Slytherin tables, clearly in search of Draco, who waved his hand and offered a thumbs up—in the style of lower class muggle-immaturity the Gryffindors seemed overly fond of.

Those emerald eyes narrowed even further. And then, utter prat that he was, rose from his spot, and left the great hall without looking back. At least, he’d taken Draco’s card with him. Maybe he’d take some time to think about Draco’s offer and get back to him? What could he possibly lose by formalising their intentions?!

...

...

[agentfrostbite]

It's Saturday and I'm in the mood, so let's talk about Elijah Kamski

Specifically about how he treats his Chloes. Obviously this is an opinion, and everyone is entitled to theirs, but as I read Chlonnor ship fics (they are adorable and I am unrepentant), I notice that a lot of them have Chloe becoming a deviant after Connor chooses not to shoot her. I don't have a problem with this, per se, but I have noticed several things in game that makes me think she's already a deviant.

1. The other two Chloes are already deviant

It's a small detail that tends to get overlooked because you're busy focusing on meeting Elijah and "OMG, Amanda's dead??" and later whether or not Connor actually shot Chloe. But these two girls right here?

They're talking. They're chatting with each other. I know that doesn't sound like much, but look back on the rest of the game thus far. Androids that aren't deviant don't converse with other androids because there's no reason they should. They have a job, and unless they're being addressed by a human, that job doesn't involve talking. You know who does converse? Deviants. Additionally, they're just lounging in the pool, and I guess that Kamski could have ordered them in there because he doesn't like swimming alone/likes to swim with his Chloes/some other potentially creepier thing, but it feels a little too natural for that.

2. Kamski pushes Connor toward his own decision

Looking back on the scene, it's clear that Kamski is trying to force Connor into making the choice of whether or not to shoot Chloe, against Connor's will. He directly pits Connor's programming against his collected software instabilities to see which is stronger. Yes, he is a scientist, first and foremost, so he's gathering data through his test, but I think he's strongly leaning towards - and pushing Connor towards - a pro-deviant standpoint.

His dialogue throughout the scene puts longer, more emotional, emphatic language on the idea of deviancy and the free will of androids - specifically of Connor. He pushes Connor to attempt an answer outside his programming ("Well, that's what you're programmed to say... but you...what do you really want?") and he places special emphasis on Connor's individuality ("Decide who you are. An obedient machine... Or a living being endowed with free will...") in the critical moment just before Connor decides whether or not to shoot.

That, combined with the fact that the two Chloes in the pool are conversing - and at this point, watching the scene, one notably with a concerned/uncertain look as she turns back around - tells me that Kamski is supportive of the idea of deviants.

3. Kamski closes off and expresses almost negative emotion if Connor does choose to shoot Chloe

If Connor decides that his mission is more important than Chloe and shoots, Kamski's attitude makes a definite shift. Where earlier he was toying with Hank and Connor, giving cryptic answers and sidestepping the main issue they were there to discuss, after Chloe is shot, he switches to straight answers and short replies.

Additionally, this post by @omentrash​ highlights Kamski's obviously upset expression when Connor chooses to shoot Chloe. Call it what you like, but to me, this says he absolutely did not want Connor to fire.

4. No matter what route you choose, Kamski tells Connor about the emergency exit

In any situation where Connor ends up in a place of partial or total deviancy, Amanda resumes control of his program and traps him in the white-out blizzard Zen Garden. In this case, the only way for Connor to escape is to use the emergency exit. But he only knows about it because Kamski goes out of his way to inform Connor of it (and we'll get to the ramifications of Kamski knowing about Connor having it later).

Obviously in the deviant best ending, Connor uses this to avoid shooting Markus and the surviving Jericrew in the back, and most of the time, this ending was preceded by Connor deciding not to shoot Chloe. So yes, it makes sense that Kamski would inform him about a way out, should something like what Amanda does happen to him. But he also tells Connor about it if Connor does shoot Chloe, which lets us know that Kamski is hoping that perhaps Connor will deviate somewhere later down the line. He didn't do it here, but he might when faced with the same situation at a future time. Kamski is looking out for Connor, even though Connor isn't a deviant yet, because Kamski has hope that he might become one.

5. Deviants are capable of acting like normal androids

I include this one to illustrate that just because Chloe appears to be a perfect hostess here

and shows no emotion when faced with life or death doesn't mean that she's not a deviant. We know that deviants can, when necessary, act like normal androids. Markus and North do it at Stratford. (Specifically pointing out the part where a human opens the bathroom door, and Markus snaps to attention at the side, like a good little obedient Android janitor.)

Kamski is the Man of the Century. He revolutionized life for everyone across the planet by successfully creating a robotic assistant species that walks, talks, and looks roughly human, while doing everything a human can do with far more efficiency. Of course he gets house calls. And if his androids are deviants - and at the very least, the two in the pool are, so why wouldn't his first android be one as well? - and people come calling, they'd need to act like proper androids. Chloe, especially, since she greets people at the door and is the poster child.

And you'll notice, even in her interview, she acts more human than most androids do. She stammers, she smiles, she's clearly nervous. She shifts back and forth, readjusting in her seat like a human would. Sure, she needed to do these things to pass the Turing Test, but there's a deeper feel to it than just good programming. I think she was leaning heavily toward deviancy at that point. Not there yet, but close. That was years before we see her at Kamski's house in the game. She must be a deviant by now.

6. Kamski left an emergency exit in Connor's program, meaning that he had some hand in Connor's creation

So Kamski leaves emergency exits in all his programs; I think we've beaten the dead horse enough at this point, but I gotta do it one more time because why would Connor have his program? Base code, sure. Okay, we can make that argument that every android has the same base code as the original program. But we can also make the argument - and it has stronger evidence - that Kamski himself had a huge hand in developing the RK series. Proof? Markus.

Markus was a gift from Kamski to Carl; we know this from Connor's scan of Markus at Stratford Tower. We also know that Markus was a unique prototype, since his police file not only states this but also doesn't have a picture of him. No photo at all. Just a blank face, and "Unknown series" and a DESTROYED.

If Markus was one of a small handful, then they'd have a photo of another. They certainly wouldn't have a "Unknown Series" on the file. This makes me think that Kamski made Markus on his own and then gifted him to Carl. I suspect this means that he still has connections at CyberLife, which he used to get the parts for Markus. By giving Markus to Carl, knowing that Carl would cause him to deviate, he set up the seed of the revolution. Now why would Kamski do that, unless he was pro-deviant?

Summary

CyberLife decides to create an android detective/negotiator with the most cutting edge technology and coding the world has ever seen. This model would hunt down deviants and bring them back, if possible, for analysis so CyberLife could lock down the problem and eliminate it with a software patch. It's a delicate operation; after all, Connor starts with his toes on the line of deviancy. Presumably, when he goes to rescue Emma from Daniel, it's his first mission, and already, he's struggling with software instabilities. To think like a deviant, you have to be as unpredictable as possible. That means that he's right on the edge, and he remains on that edge for most of the game, depending on what the player decides to do with him.

So CyberLife need some assistance getting the code ironed out to ensure their Deviant Hunter doesn't become a deviant himself (until the time is right), so they turn to the man who first invented androids and has already technically worked on the RK series: Kamski. They ask - or perhaps Kamski himself offers - and Kamski works on the code. Not all of it, not even the majority, just the few bits and pieces where their almost-deviant and anti-deviant codes clash. All of his work is surely checked - secretly, of course; no need to make him think they don't trust him - so there's really only one thing he can add to Connor's program: the emergency exit. And that's why Connor is his program, why CyberLife would allow the exit to remain, why Kamski points it out, no matter what you choose.

And Kamski would do none of this - it doesn’t make sense for him to do any of this - unless he's secretly cheering on the revolution from the sidelines.

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Private Investigator.

But he was wearing a shirt with pineapple print on it.

So when he went up on stage he goes “Help! I’m being attacked by pineapples! Ah! Ack!”

Ahaha...! That’s actually pretty funny.

*DING DONG*

Oh, sorry, I’ll get that.

*Shuichi and Kaede are sitting on the sofa of Shuichi’s shared apartment when suddenly the doorbell rings. Shuichi answers it.

Hello-?

...

M-Mr Kurafto? This is a surprise.

May I come in?

Of course.

*He comes in and enters the living room.

Hello. I don’t think we’ve met before.

Well, first time for everything. Name’s Kuripa. Kaede, right?

Yep. Shuichi and I were just hanging out.

Hanging ou-? I’m not interrupting anything am I?

N-No, of course not...!

Phew! Good...Kind of reminds me of that time I-

Actually, never mind. Not relevant.

What brings you here then? I doubt you came round to have a little chat.

You’d be right. I’d call it detective’s intuition, but I haven’t exactly made it discreet.

But first, may I have a drink? This could take a hot minute.

Sure thing. Tea or coffee?

Tea please.

*Shuichi quickly makes Kuripa a cup of tea and gives it to him.

So what is it you needed.

...

*Kuripa sips his tea.

...Kokichi Ouma...

...

...

Wh-What about Kokichi?

I knew you were familiar with him. You were heavily involved in a “spat” with him a few months ago.

We’ve known each other for a bit longer than that I’m afraid.

But why do you bring him up?

Tell me something Shuichi.

I understand that you and Kokichi aren’t exactly friends, but if he was in an inescapable situation with risk of losing everything he owns, would you idly sit by and let it happen?

N-No of course not!

Good. That’s all I need to know.

*He takes another sip.

Last night, I went to his Cabaret Club with a few friends. There, I became personal friends with a hostess named Iroha Nijiue.

We know Iroha. We never really talked, but we did see her.

This gets ever the more easier. You see, we’re dealing with an issue.

The manager of a rival cabaret club is trying to shut the High Roller down and evict Kokichi and his whole staff.

Wha-!? Why!?

Spite most likely. Kokichi’s cabaret club has gotten much more attention and service than his. He doesn’t understand how Kokichi seems to be doing a better job than him.

But he’s taking legal action against him now, and he has money to bribe the court. With the world in it’s current state, I’m not sure what the survival chances are for the High Roller and it’s staff.

If the place gets shut down, Iroha, and her other colleagues, including Hashimoto who works as a waiter, will be thrown out onto the streets. She says that with her situation, it’ll be impossible to find any discreet work anywhere.

No...!

Shuichi, please, you have to help me. Iroha won’t survive a day on the streets. She’s too innocent.

Please, you need to help me take this guy down! I-I’ll even pay you! Please...

I’m begging you...

*Kuripa literally gets to his knees and bows his head in earnest.

...

...

Shuichi...

Yeah...I know that you’re hesitant for me to do this...

But this isn’t just about Kokichi...It’s about all the other nice and kind people who work at his place...

I can’t let them lose their jobs because of something so petty.

So I’ll help you out Mr Kurafto. What is it you need me to do?

*Kuripa gets to his feet.

I want to investigate the guy first and foremost. I can’t exactly build a plan when I don’t have enough information on him.

Would you help me investigate him?

I can’t promise I’ll turn up with much, but you’re right, we should start somewhere.

Though I’ll warn you this much. Kokichi might not be happy that I’m lending a hand in this. He doesn’t exactly have any pleasure in seeing my face.

Tough. This is for his own good.

Eheh...You’re pretty forward Mr Kurafto.

I guess I am.

And in regards to that, stop with the Mr. I’m only a few years your senior.

What should I call you then?

Oh, for goodness sake, just call him Kuripa!

R-Right...Ok, Mr Kuripa. I agree to your terms.

*sigh*

S-Sorry...

You’re a little awkward, aren’t you?

I suppose.

Hehe...Alright, whatever. Thanks for the help.

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 65

~*~Sebastian~*~

I turned back toward the others. Sam was looking at me, "You're hopeless."

I looked around, hoping she was looking at someone else, "What? Why?"

"Three weeks ago with the good luck kisses and Reese Cups you were ridiculous. This week... hopeless. You're a big soft squishy marshmallow of a boyfriend. I expected more."

I went for a confused look, "Do we know each other well enough for you to ride my ass like this?"

She smiled, "Apparently."

I held up a finger in Scott's direction before he could say anything. Everyone laughed.

We talked, laughed, and drank until the ref blew the whistle. Like earlier I was between Sam and Mallory. Sam leaned closer, "Too far?"

I knew she was referring to her teasing after Emma left. "Oh hell no, perfect." I sat back enough to include Mallory. "Thank you. I'm much more comfortable in front of five hundred people than in a small group. Expectations are different. You fucking with me lets new people know I’m just a guy here to watch his girlfriend play volleyball."

Sam looked at Mallory, "See, hopeless."

Mallory smiled, "Yeah, but cute as hell."

“Am I imagining the southern accent? It comes and goes.” I looked between the two of them and they indicated I wasn’t imagining. “Southern accents are trouble.” I shook my head, took a drink of my beer, and watched them win the first set.

Emma ran over, "Hungry. Would you order me something, please?"

I gave her a thumbs up and I had plates of appetizers ready when they got to the table. After losing. I slid off the stool, giving it to Emma, standing behind and to the side. I reached around her to eat while my other hand kept in contact with her. Touching her back. A slide across her shoulders. Anything for the contact. When Emma was finished eating, she leaned back, using me as a backrest. I leaned in and kissed her temple, my hidden hand on her hip.

I can't explain my want for contact. Before we met, before I saw her, before I heard her voice, I knew the feel of her touch. Her hand on my arm. Since that first touch, I've always wanted it. Maybe it's because touch was the first thing I knew. Like if the first thing you're attracted to is someone's smile you always remember the first one and want to see it again. I've never been touch hungry like this. I don't mind, kind of like it actually, and I'm not all in trying to overthink the why. It's just different. Hopefully, the relationship outcome will be different too.

Mallory's voice saying, "Barbie Bitches at ten o'clock," drew me out of my thoughts.

Emma said, "They're really not that bad."

Mallory snorted, "Yes, yes, they are."

There was a group of five heading our way. Three women and two men. I'm going to go ahead and guess the bleached blondes are the Barbie Bitches. There is a natural blonde in the group, so I could be wrong. The men were lagging a little behind. The one with short black hair had a full beard and the other had shoulder-length brown hair with a couple of days growth of beard. I don't feel jealous or insecure, but I am aware these are men she knows. Possessive. Protective. Proud. Definitely wanting to mark my territory, I guess her using me as a pillow does that. If she sits up I may have to kiss her. Tragic.

One of the guys recognized me first. He elbowed the other and nodded. I went on talking with Nick about the best flavors for chicken wings. I’m partial to teriyaki. Hot sauces aren't for me. I like flavor over burning the shit out of my mouth.

The five reached the table, hugs and handshakes for those nearby. Emma leaned forward and the hand I had on her hip magically moved to her shoulder when other eyes locked on me. Beside me, I heard Sam mumble, "Hopeless."

I looked at Sam and laughed, giving her a silent thank you. I realize someone in my line of work not liking to be the center of attention seems strange. Work and personal are different. Meeting her friends is personal, but the first minutes when they're recognizing work me is uncomfortable. I wish it wasn't. I don't like it.

Emma did the introductions, "This is my boyfriend Sebastian." I do like how she gives me a title. It feels like a diversion, setting an expectation. There's no question who I am. I'm not Sebastian with a dangling "the actor."  I’m Sebastian "the boyfriend." That makes me uncomfortable too but in a much more fun way. She pointed as she gave names. "Justin, Caleb, Rose, Tammy, and Toni."

There was no way in hell Toni and Tammy weren't the Barbie Bitches. I was right about the hair too. I waved, "Hi, nice to meet you. Everybody work with Emma? Teachers?"

They told me what they taught. Toni and Tammy are English, Rose is Physics, Caleb is History, and Justin teaches programming and robotics. I looked at Rose, "I got a zero on my physics final." They laughed and I shrugged. "In my defense, of the eight seniors, the highest grade was a fifteen."

"You had a shitty teacher."

I widened my eyes and nodded in agreement, “Yeah, he gave us shit about the scores. I told him they said more about him than us. Finals were over, I didn't care."

Everyone started sharing stories from being a student or things students had done. Turned into a competition between the high school and elementary teachers for the most inappropriate comments and behaviors. High school was funny because they knew what they were doing, elementary because they didn't. I felt embarrassed for the mom who got the call her vibrator had made it to show and tell.

The game going on behind us was in the last set. Emma took off for the bathroom. When she came back, she went to the middle of the high school teachers, thanking them for coming. She was a good hostess.

Toni glanced at me before turning to Emma, "Are we really supposed to pretend he's not Sebastian Stan?"

Several things happened all at once. On one side of me, Samantha said, "Yes." On the other side, Mallory groaned. In front of me to the right, Tammy nodded her agreement with Toni. A little to the left, Emma said, "No."

Guess who I want to hear more from?

"You don't have to pretend you don't know who he is. But first and foremost, he's a person, so we're not going to talk about him like he's not right there." Emma looked at me with a smile. I was uncomfortable again. However, her protectiveness is hot.

Tami grimaced, "Sorry."

Emma hugged her to soothe the rebuke, "He scrambles my brain sometimes too."

I want to scramble more than her brains right now.

Tami looked at me as Emma headed around the table. "I'm sorry, Sebastian."

I waved away the apology, "You can ask me anything you want about work when they're warming up. The rest of the time I'm here to watch my girlfriend play."

It was Justin who did the fist pump, "Yes!"

I laughed.

Caleb faked a cough, "Fanboy."

"And not ashamed."

I had a fan. Sweet.

I'd taken Emma's seat when she left. When I started to get up she shook her head. She stood right up on me, laying her hand on my thigh. I lifted my arm over her, my hand landing on her ass, and my fingers going under the leg of her shorts to run my fingertips along the curve of her ass. My other hand, which was already under the table, moved her hand from my thigh to my crotch. I never stopped talking with Dawn. Beside me, Sam turned her back to me and leaned against the table, blocking anyone else from seeing. She’s definitely my favorite.

I was torn when the other game was over. I would miss our under the table fun, but the sooner the game was over the sooner we could go home.

Jeff walked around the table, heading toward the court. He pointed at me, "Your last good luck kiss sucked. Do better."

I jumped off the stool, grabbed Emma, dipped her low, and kissed her slow and deep. It felt very good. Reluctantly, I set her back on her feet. I looked at Jeff with my eyebrows raised.

Jeff grabbed Emma's arm and pulled her toward the court. "Much better. Thank you."

I turned back to the table to find all eyes on me. I shrugged with my hands up, "Taking one for the team." I took my spot back on the stool.

Justin leaned onto the table, "I have questions about stunts and drone shots." That conversation went on for a while. I could talk all day about that shit because it’s not directly me.

Toni wanted to know about Evans. Nia asked about gossip sites.

"I don't go there. Anybody can pretend to know anything and people will believe it if they want to. Even random guesses are going to be right sometimes. A friend had something real show up. It's best to ignore it. It'll go away with the next scandal. A lawsuit confirms and calls more attention." I could tell Rose had a question, "Go ahead."

She smiled, "Fanfiction."

I returned the smile, "What about it?"

"Love it? Hate it? Any favorites?"

I finished the last of my beer, considering how honest to be. I went all in. "I'm human. I got curious. For about a week. It doesn’t bother me. If a character I brought to life feeds someone's creativity I’m flattered. There are good stories and good writers out there. One of those could write a script, hell, for all we know someone who won an Oscar used to write fanfic."

"Real person stuff?"

I bobbed my head back and forth while looking at Dawn. "Still fiction and no more me than Bucky is. The imagination and amount of time spent on me is still flattering. All that's a step away. Now, the thirst tweets. Those are the things I wonder if people realize I see that. Fanfic is about an imagined version of me. Tweets and comments on Instagram are directed to me."

Caleb jumped in, "I bet you get the same things live at photo ops and shit though."

I nodded, "Some people lack boundaries."

Cindy said, "You looked uncomfortable reading those thirst tweets."

"Sort of." I laughed, "I wasn't embarrassed by content, just reading them out loud."

There were a few more questions before the whistle blew for the start of the game. I said, "Boyfriend time" and turned around.

It was another nail biter of a game. They lost the second set. All of us were screaming and clapping. It was a lot of fun. I liked this, being the spectator while hanging with her friends. I’ve always liked going to things and being the support person for friends. Fuck knows I’ve asked that from them enough. What I didn’t like was that this place didn't have Reese cups and the deck was too high for a between set kiss. Piece of shit dive bar.

They won the final set with a rejected spike by Becky and Nick. The team jumped in the air and hugged. So did Sam, Mallory, Scott, and I. I moved out of the middle to get to her first. In my head, I could hear Sam calling me hopeless.

I walked toward the opening to the court and met them, handing out words of praise. Emma stepped onto the deck and crossed the short distance into my arms. I kissed her head, "You did good."

"Thank you." She left my arms, kissed me, and took my hand. "It was a fun game. And I didn’t hurt myself."

We headed back to the table talking about plays and laughing. Emma sat down and pulled a beer from the bucket. I leaned my elbows on the counter behind me between Emma and Mallory, stretching out my back to reverse the hunching over during the game. I watched her profile as she talked with her friends. I could stand here looking at her all night. It didn't take long before I saw her energy drain away. Her smile shrank and her eyes lost their sparkle. I stood up, tucked a piece of hair that had escaped her ponytail, behind her ear, and waited until she turned her head like I knew she would. "You're tired." Not a question. She nodded. I turned to Mallory, "You ready?"

"Anytime."

I put Emma's bag on my shoulder. Emma stood up, "We're heading out."

Several other people said they were too. It wasn't late, but it was a weeknight.

I waited while they hugged their goodbyes. Mallory was back to me first. I slung my arm around her shoulder, "She's like a hostess saying good night to her guests."

Emma heard me and smiled. She joined us and I put my arm around her too. "Nice to meet everybody. I’m sure we'll do this again. Have a good night."

The three of us walked around the building to the CRV. I put in the code, opening the passenger and rear door, closing it behind them. I could see Mallory put a hand on Emma's arm and while I could tell they were talking I couldn't hear them. I walked a little slower around to the driver's side.

They didn't stop when I got in. Mallory was telling Emma about the questions during warm-up. When I turned to back out, Emma looked at me, "I'm sorry you were uncomfortable."

I smiled, "It was fine."

Emma's hand went to the back of neck, "I don't like you being uncomfortable. My friends making you feel that way."

"I don't enjoy it either, but it's part of being with you. You get my fans and a lot of other bullshit. I get your friends. I got less uncomfortable as they got used to me." I took her hand from my neck, kissing it before laying our joined hands on my leg. "I did like you going protective. You handled it well."

Emma barked a short laugh, "I wasn't ok with them objectifying you."

Mallory added, "I call them Barbie Bitches for a reason."

I laughed, “I’ve survived worse.”  Emma leaned over and kissed my cheek. “See, all worth it.”

“Emma, you know they’ve sent out shit. Your room is going to be Grand Central tomorrow.”

Emma sighed. I thought to say something but wanted to hear from her first. I wasn’t surprised by her response. “You can stay at home if you want.”

“Without you?”

“Yeah, I have to get packed up but you don’t have to go.”

“Nope.” It was never an option. “What sort of an asshole would I be if I’m not willing to deal with your co-workers dropping by your classroom. I promise you what you’re going to have to deal with will be much worse.”

“I get that, but to be fair, there’s not been much fall out from your fans.”

From the back seat I heard, “There will be. Probably is, but you don’t have an online presence to know.”

I nodded backward, “What she said.”

“I don’t know how your fans react to girlfriends, but I was a huge One Direction fan. Fans were brutal to their girlfriends. One released a cookbook and they left shitty reviews bringing her rating down on Amazon. Death threats to one if they broke his heart. They went all the way back in their social media and dug up shit. Hopefully, your fans are older.”

“Not always.” I guess this is when we’re going to talk about this. Maybe having a friend who’d been a fan would be helpful. “I won’t say fans cause breakups, but they don’t help. It’s complicated. There’s more nice than ugly, but a lot of time the ugly is really ugly.  Like you said, trashing her career, her cookbook because of who she’s dating. Girlfriends don’t always react well. Friends don’t always react well. The men, me, don’t always react well. I’m good at hiding when I don’t want to be seen, but I don’t understand people who can hide whole relationships for years. Hell, we’ve already been spotted having lunch. Two weeks in. I don’t know what the right answer is, because I haven’t found it.”

Emma jumped in,  "On the plane home I went looking around. There is a blog with all your relationships. Chronologically."

I'm sure I looked horrified. Because I was. "I don't want to know that. I don't want you to know that."

Emma grimaced and shook her head. "I didn't read any relationship stuff. I'd have to give you my high school and college diaries to equalize the invasiveness." She faked a shudder and Mallory laughed. Emma continued, "I was looking for fan reaction. There were links to Instagram posts, Twitter threads, and other blog posts. They have lots of opinions."

"Yeah, I know."

"You can't win." She pointed at herself, "Neither can I."

She’s not telling me anything I don’t already know. "And you're still here. Are you crazy?" This was a legitimate question.

Emma reached over to play in my hair again, "Only about you. I'm going to focus on what I can do something about. You and I. I'm too curious to not look, and I can't promise it won't get to me, but at the end of the day I get you." She leaned across the console and I met her for a kiss. "Also going to keep my shit on private."

Mallory spoke again, “I know it’s totally none of my business.”

I interjected, “Wouldn’t be discussing in front of you if we weren’t ok with your opinion. Sometimes outside opinions see things better. Especially if you watched a fan meltdown before. Thank fuck I’m not in One Direction.”

“Can you sing?”

“Not in a way anyone wants to pay to hear. Maybe a charity karaoke or something.” I liked injecting laughter into a not funny conversation. I worried about this. I worried about Emma get drug through shit.

“I think you have to find a balance. You can’t do something because of fans, but you can’t avoid things either. Fans don’t react well to being kept in the dark, but they are quick to be pissed by baiting or what they think is rubbing their face in something.” She put her hand on her chest, “For me, and remember I was seventeen, I didn’t care about casual dates or whatever, but if it was serious and they were being spotted everywhere it was different. Then it becomes fans creating their own stories if they don’t have the real thing. Some fans got pissed when they could see what was going on, but being told nothing was going on. Felt like they were being lied to or treated like crazy fans. Again, with balance. How much are you ok with revealing versus how much fiction is tolerable. Emma’s right. You can’t win.”

I waited until we got to a stoplight and turned to look at Mallory, “Now, you’ve given me things to think about.”

Mallory shrugged, “I think you play to the sane stable fans. The others are going to create chaos no matter what.”

“Ummm.” I was full of thoughts.

Emma chuckled, “Will you be filling me in on these thoughts.”

“When I’m done overthinking and sorting through them.”

They went back to talking and I tried to leave all the thoughts behind. They needed to simmer. I’d look at them later. When we reached Mallory’s place I jumped out and ran around to the other side of the car. I pulled Mallory into a hug. Initially, she tensed and I was afraid I’d entered unwanted affection territory, but she quickly relaxed and hugged me back. I’d just surprised her. “Thank you for everything. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Emma was smirking when I got back in, “What?”

“I think you get comfortable with people before they’ve totally adapted to you.”

I knew what she meant. “I hug too quick.”

“No, no, no. Not too quick. It’s just fun to watch the reaction because getting used to talking to you is very different than being in your arms. You up close is better looking than you a few feet away. Your blue eyes. And your arms and chest feel . . . mmm.” She shimmied in the seat, “So good.”

“That may be just you.”

She started laughing. Hard. “I don’t think you believe that.”

She was right. I started laughing with her, “I do know I can cause a reaction. Not gonna lie, it’s fun.”

“I can’t wait to see you with a group of fans..”

“It’s a mind fuck. Prepare to deflate my ego. I can get a little out of hand after events.”

“Really?”

I nodded, “Part of why I take friends with me when I can. Hours of screaming, crying, and shaking fans. Being told your gorgeous and they love you. The stories about what something I’ve done has meant to them. It’s all pretty heady shit.”

“Plus all the hugs and inappropriate comments from beautiful women.”

Well, I walked myself into this. Luckily, I could tell she was teasing me and not taking it seriously. “You know how visual I am.”

“You just bring all that pent-up sexual energy home to me and we’ll work it off.” She patted my thigh. “And if you’re getting too cocky we’ll go to a Pearl Jam concert and you can feel the love rolling off fifty thousand plus people all at once.”

Comparatively, I ain’t shit.

[cilldaracailin]

A Kind of Magic

Hey everyone. I am back with the squeal to Under Pressure. This story is also on AO3 and can be found here:https://archiveofourown.org/works/24097855/chapters/58006354

Hope you all enjoy it :)

1

“Never stop just because you feel defeated. The journey to the other side is attainable only after great suffering.”

“Can I get you anything to drink sir?”

“Just some water would be great, thank you.”

Taron carefully took the small plastic cup from the air hostess and thanked her again as he put it gently down on his tray table, slotting his elbows back into the small space he had as he sat in the middle seat of row twenty-seven on the flight, taking a painful breathe in as sudden turbulence jolted him in his tiny seat.

Inhaling through his nose and then out of his mouth, he moved his body so it was slightly more comfortable in the hard seat, resting his head on the back of his chair. It was a breathing technique he had learnt less than a week ago and he had put it to use many times since he had stepped on the airplane and the reason why he was on the airplane was because of the person who had taught him that breathing technique he was using.

Robyn.

That letter she left for him in the hospital has caused an emotion Taron hadn’t expected to experience and that was loss. After another long sleep helped with medication, he woke only to remember once again that he didn’t get to talk to Robyn before she left and with all the time he had to sit and think in the hospital bed, the more Taron realised that he was not only hurt by the conversation that never happen but at a loss by her sudden departure. He recalled a chat they had had in the store about Robyn needing to take a flight home but with the nightmare they had been through, he really didn’t expect her to go so suddenly. In a day or two perhaps but not a few hours after they had been rescued from the 7/11. He knew she had her own injuries too and having experienced her level-headedness many times throughout their time together in the store, when she made the decision to take her flight, Taron really didn’t believe Robyn was thinking clearly.

His time in the hospital hadn’t been as relaxing as the doctor told him it would be. The decrease in his pain medication on the Sunday night, really brought to light how sore he was and although the pain didn’t compare to anything he felt while sitting in the 7/11, his body ached, stiff muscles and joints feeling the twinge once he was brought to his feet. After his full day of sleeping straight through on Saturday, thanks to the medication he was given, Taron then found it impossible to switch his mind off and spent his time dozing rather than deeply sleeping and any time he did manage to comfortably sleep, he was woken up by doctors on their rounds and nurses checking his IV line. Doctor Hart had come back to see him on Sunday afternoon and did another complete examination of him, and was so pleased with his assessment that he took Taron off the monitor that screened his vitals as well as the oxygen. He left him with his IV as Taron was still finding it difficult to eat anything more than a few bites, though he was pleased to see that this patient was drinking fluids. With some initial help from Ruth, Taron had also managed to be get up and walk a little by Sunday evening, and although his movements were slow, he felt less restricted and by Tuesday could smoothly walk around and had walked as comfortably as he could with his injuries down to the hospital coffee shop with Richard.

Richard, who had to fly back to Chicago on Tuesday afternoon to finish filming, had come to visit him on the Sunday morning as he had promised the day before, bringing with him some clothes so Taron could get out of the hospital gown and change into more comfy sweatpants and a t-shirt and stayed with Taron to be his moral support as he made two important phone calls, one more so than the other.

First was his mam and he wasn’t afraid to admit that as soon as he heard her voice, he broke down and cried, his mam being the one to comfort him instead of the other way around, as it was his plan to reassure her because he knew she would have been worried sick at hearing he was in the hospital.

“Taron, love it’s ok.” Soothed Tina as she heard her son break down in a sob, that cut her to the core, even more so when she couldn’t be there to hug him. “Richard and Robyn have both spoken to me and I know everything love. I know what has happened and that you will be ok.”

It took a few minutes before Taron could actually get any words out and speak to his mam and once he started talking he couldn’t stop, needing to get everything that happened off his chest, his mam listening to every word and interrupting when needed to comfort her son. “It was so frightening mam. I have never felt a pain like it before and there was just blood everywhere.”

“I can only imagine Taron.”

“It was just so easy for that man to shoot off a gun and not think twice.”

“There are some idiots out there but you can’t focus on what happened in the 7/11. You need to look at the positives and the first one I can think of, is that you are here, alive and talking to me.”

“Mam I don’t even remember most of what happened to be honest. There are moments that are completely blank for me.”

“And that is why I am so relieved Robyn was there Taron. I can’t even bare to think about what would have happened to you if she wasn’t there.” It was Richard who had explained to Taron’s mam about how he was given CPR in the store, as per Robyn’s instructions in the letter she had left him, making sure Tina knew how quickly he was revived, more importantly how Taron was going to make a full recovery with no complications and it was information that had really shaken her, knowing she had nearly lost her son. Tina understood so much better now why Robyn had left out so many details of what had happened in the 7/11 when she had called her, the young woman knowing it was only when Tina spoke to her son for herself that she would believe he was ok.

Tina heard her son go quiet very quickly once she mentioned Robyn. “Taron? Taron what’s wrong.”

“Robyn’s gone mam.” He answered quietly.

“Wait, what do you mean gone? I was only speaking to her yesterday.”

“She has gone home. Back to Ireland.”

It was hard for Taron to explain why Robyn left because he didn’t know the answer and it was a surprise that was echoed in his mam’s reaction too. “I don’t understand Taron. She just went home?” Once Richard had spoken to Tina and actually explained what had happened in the 7/11, Tina was desperate to speak to the young woman who had saved her son’s life, particularly when the way she explained what she did for Taron as ‘simple first aid’ was nowhere near the truth. “I really wanted to, well no, I needed to speak to her again.”

“You and me both mam. She just left me a letter explaining that she was sorry and she had to go home.”

“Oh, Taron love.”

The conversation with his mam lasted nearly an hour and then another half hour while he spoke to his sisters, all of them finding it hard to say goodbye to each other, Taron needing another emotional pep talk from his family as tears quickly came to his eyes again as they said goodbye.

His second phone call was to Matthew, his director, who appeared in his hospital room on the Monday morning during visiting hours.

“Jesus Taron.” Was his first reaction when he walked into the room, seeing Taron on his feet as he walked back from the bathroom, wheeling his IV with him as he moved.

“Good to see you too Matthew.” Taron cringed as he sat on the bed. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Well I heard my lead actor had an accident. You look like absolute shit.”

“You didn’t need to fly out here.”

“Yes, I did. You are my friend first and foremost and I wanted to come and see you. Make sure you are ok.”

“I am going to be ok. I can actually walk by myself today and it hurts less to move”

“I’ve heard your look of lying on the floor of the 7/11 was worse than this.” Matthew sat on the chair beside the bed.

“I’ll live.” Replied Taron as he eased himself back onto the pillows behind his back.

“I have also heard rumours that you nearly didn’t.” Taron looked to his director from under his eye lashes. “So, it is true. Isn’t that something you think you should tell me.”

“Who were you talking too? My mam?”

“No Richard. I called him when you were quite sparse with the details of what had actually happened in the store. Why didn’t you bloody tell me you were given CPR Taron.”

“It’s not something I really like to talk about. It’s not good to dwell on the fact that you died for a minute.”

“Ahh shit Taron.” Taron couldn’t meet his eye. “What happened?”

“The doctor told me that the combination of all the injuries I had sustained and sitting in the store for over nine hours with no pain relief just caused my body to shut down.”

“Jesus Taron.” Matthew had no idea Taron had been through such horrific trauma. “The paramedics gave you CPR?”

He took his head. “There was a girl, well a woman… Robyn and she gave me CPR. Got me back breathing in under a minute.” Matthew sat back in his chair, running a hand over his face. “I am going to be ok. All my tests and results came back clear and the doctor is really happy with my recovery so far, quicker than he expected too. I have been up and walking around the ward and they plan on taking my IV out tomorrow. I was told I will be sore and tender for a few weeks and need to take it really easy.”

“CPR Taron, Jesus Christ. How did she not break your ribs?”

Taron shrugged his shoulders, regretting the simple movement as his left hand went to his right arm to soothe the twinge he felt from the wound there. “Doctor Hart was left puzzled too but it doesn’t mean she didn’t go hard.” Taron pulled up his grey t-shirt letting Matthew see the palm shaped bruises on the middle of his chest. “She went hard.” Repeated Taron as he pulled his t-shirt back down. It wasn’t until Taron took a shower that morning, one that was badly needed, that he saw the bruises on his chest from Robyn’s hands, bruises that hit home to him, just how important Robyn’s actions were. If Taron’s chest was sensitive and uncomfortable, he could only imagine the state of Robyn’s hands.

“She saved your life.” Taron nodded, his hand resting on his chest. “Well where is this woman. I would very much like to meet her.”

Taron lay back in the bed really not wanting to have this conversation again but with a calming breathe, he began to relay the story of ‘Robyn’.

Matthew left Taron with a hug and assurance that the filming of the movie had been suspended until Taron was back to full health and it was the way it was going to be, no matter how much Taron protested over it.

“Excuse me can I just get past you please? I need to stretch my legs.”

Taron was pulled from his memories and looked to the man sitting to his left. The downside to sitting in the middle of the row at the window, was having to move every time the passenger next to him needed to leave the seat and this was the third time since they had left the airport in South Carolina that the passenger to his right had wanted to get out of their seat. Gritting his teeth, Taron lifted his plastic cup of water, drank it down in one and then clicked his table back in and gingerly getting to his feet as his ribs protested at the quick movement, slid out of the row and into the aisle, allowing the customer to exit the row.

“Thank you.”

Taron gave him a nod and turned to the other passenger in the row. “I think I will have a stretch too.” He said using it as an excuse at not having to sit back down and then having to get back up again. He didn’t think he would able to hold in the groan if he had to get up and down twice in the space of five minutes and with his body already objecting to sitting so straight and so still for the last two hours, he thought maybe a walk would loosen his tight muscles.

Pulling his hat further down on his head he started to take slow steps down the skinny aisle. It was an overnight flight and the majority of the passengers on the flight were asleep, taking advantage of the low lighting and hum of the plane. Taron hadn’t properly slept in the last five days and couldn’t help but feel jealous of those who easily slumbered in their seat. It was actually his third flight and thankfully his last one before he landed in Dublin and the late-night flight would have him in Ireland at eight fifty am on Thursday morning.

However, it hadn’t been so easy as hopping on a plane. He had to fight his case with Doctor Hart to be discharged from the hospital four days earlier than planned.

“No Taron. Absolutely not.”

“Please just listen to me.”

“No Taron.”

“You told me that if I listen to the nurses and walk around you would discharge me.”

“Yes, at the end of the week, not today Tuesday. End of the week, Friday, probably even Saturday.”

Taron followed the doctor out of the door his room and to the nurse’s station. “I am not asking to be discharged today.” He said as the doctor stopped at the desk where Ruth was sitting. “I am asking to be discharged tomorrow.”

“For goodness sake Taron, are you trying to end up back in the hospital? You have only just come off the IV line.”

“I promise I will rest and take it easy but I need to go. I need to leave the hospital and I can’t do that until you discharge me.”

“And I am not going to do that Taron. I am sorry but even with your quick recovery, I won’t risk it.”

“Then write on the fucking papers that I understand the risks and let me go!” Shouted Taron, running his hands frustratedly through his hair, wincing as he brushed the dressing on his forehead.

“Taron…” Ruth stood up. “Hey, take it easy.”

Letting a sigh leave his lips, Taron looked to the Doctor. “I am sorry.” He said. “I am really sorry but I can’t stay here anymore. I can’t sit in that bloody room with my thoughts. I need to leave.”

“Taron, it’s four more days.” Replied the doctor. “I really want to be sure that you are not carrying any secondary injuries.”

“You told me I was clear on Sunday. You said you were amazed at how I had gotten to my feet so quickly, at how I adapted to the change in my pain relief.”

“And I am.”

“Then please let me go.” Begged Taron.

“Why are you so desperate to leave the hospital?”

“Robyn.” Answered Taron simply.

“Robyn? Sorry Taron you are going to have to explain that a bit better to me.”

He pulled the letter from the pocket of his sweatpants and pulled down the neck of his t-shirt. “These are the only two things I have from Robyn. A letter and some bruises. I cannot explain it, I don’t know how to explain it but all I know is that I feel empty, hurt and at a loss that this is all I have from the person who saved my life with no way to contact her.”

“You also have your life.” Chipped in Ruth. “You said you only have two things, but you have three. The letter, the bruises and your life.”

Doctor Hart looked impatiently to Ruth who shrugged her shoulders at him. “I don’t understand what any of this has to do with me discharging you early.”

“Ooh are we having a staff meeting?” Doctor Keane walked up. She was completing her rounds, when she heard raised voices at the nurse’s station and recognising one of those voices as Doctor Hart, went to see what was going on. She was surprised to see his patient standing beside him, looking frustrated and upset, even more surprised to see Taron on his feet as the last time she saw him, he was almost writhing in pain. “Hey Taron, it is good to see you on your feet. You look really well. Really well actually. What’s going on? Are you trying to raid the nurse’s chocolates?”

“He is asking to be discharged.” Scoffed Doctor Hart.

“What? Taron?”

“Robyn left.” Taron turned to the new doctor. “I mean the woman who…”

“… Gave you CPR. Yeah, I know her. I stitched her up.”

Taron had to double take. “You stitched her up.”

“Well yeah. I popped two stitches in her shoulder and examined her when you all came in from the 7/11.” Phoebe watched as the Taron’s eyes widened in surprise. “But you wouldn’t know any of this because she left and went home. Did you even get to see her before she left?” She watched as Taron shook his head, causing her to move forward and place a hand on his shoulder. “She took her flight home, didn’t she?” Taron nodded again, feeling that sadness he had been trying to keep at bay creeping into him. “Please tell me you are not going after her.” She was met with watery tired green eyes. “Taron…”

“Don’t.” He said talking two steps backwards so her hand fell from his shoulder. “Don’t ‘Taron’ me. I am not ashamed to say that I was shit scared in that 7/11 and there was one person there keeping me calm and together and that was Robyn. She never panicked. She never showed an ounce of fear and she didn’t think twice to helping when I was caught under that shelving unit. She held my hand for near five hours straight and she only let go to find a way, that I have learnt since, that risked her life so she could save mine and then she undertook something that I can’t even begin to comprehend because it causes my chest to tighten up and my stomach to turn and I haven’t been able to talk through my daunting emotions because the one person I needed desperately to talk to left. I am not going to go and do something stupid. I am not going back to work. I am going to go and find her; I need to find her.” The two doctors and the nurse watched as Taron took two breathes and closed his eyes as he tried to settle his emotions. “I cannot wait until Saturday.” He said his hands rubbing his eyes as he wiped unfallen tears away.

Doctor Keane looked to Ruth. “You got a spare chair back there Ruth.” The nurse nodded and the doctor walked around the desk of the nurse’s station and wheeled the chair around behind Taron. “Will you sit for me?” She asked him and held onto the chair as he carefully lowered himself into the soft leather, his head going straight into his hands, a wince filling his features with the movement. Phoebe could see the young man in front of her starting to crumble and she was nervous about him standing, much more comfortable when he was sitting down.

“Taron, look at me.” Doctor Keane knelt in front of him, placing two hands on his knees, feeling his legs shaking under her touch.

“Phoebe…” Started Doctor Hart but he stopped when he saw the look on Phoebe’s face. It was one he was used to seeing from his colleague when she was displeased.

“Taron, sweetheart, look at me.” Beautiful green eyes which were laden with grief and pain unwillingly looked at her. “Why do you need leave the hospital today? Why can’t you wait until Saturday? You know you were seriously hurt and although you are up and walking about and might feel a lot better than you did three days ago, your body is still healing and when we ask you to stay in the hospital, it is for a reason.”

“You looked after Robyn?” Asked Taron looking at the doctor and when she nodded, he continued. “Did she speak to you about what had happened?”

“To be honest, not really. I kind of had to drag it out of her. She was battling with a lot of emotions.”

“So after speaking with her, you can understand how I am feeing right now but the one person who properly understands what I am going through, the one person I needed to talk to and see when I woke up was gone and all that was left was a letter. I know you are all trained professionals and you have all taken such great care of me and helped me and I am so thankful to you all but please realise it is Robyn I am indebted too. It is Robyn’s solid presence I crave so I can get these building emotions under control because I feel like I am going to burst and as much as I need Robyn, it seems like she needs too. Richard and I have had the chance to talk about what has happened, but who has Robyn spoken too? I know we are strangers but I learnt one thing about Robyn as we were pushed together in such a horrific situation and that is, she is very stubborn.”

“Well that is something we can agree on. Robyn is a very determined young woman.”

Taron looked to the doctor. “I was breaking through those walls. She let me help her and I can’t explain how she helped me. I can’t form the words to describe what she did for me and if I am feeling so shaken and almost traumatised by what happened to us, imagine what Robyn is feeling. I need to talk to her. I need to see her. I just can’t wait until Saturday.” Taron placed his head into his hands again, trying to stop himself from breaking down in a flood of tears.

Doctor Keane turned to look at Doctor Hart and giving Taron’s knee a squeeze stood up and looked to Ruth who moved from her place at the nurse’s station to stand beside Taron as his body started to shake with effort he had just made to fight his case. It had taken a lot of energy which he didn’t have.

“No Phoebe. Don’t even start defending him. He is my patient.”

“And Robyn was mine.”

“She was nowhere as badly hurt as Taron was.”

“I don’t think that is something you can prove Steve. Just because Taron’s injuries are more visual than Robyn’s.”

“He was shot with a bullet.”

“And she gave him the CPR that saved his life and we both know it is the person who performs the CPR that is affected more and before the CPR came into play, wasn’t it Robyn who cleaned Taron up and stopped him from panicking. It would have been a very different outcome if she wasn’t there.”

“I understand all that Phoebe and I have met Robyn and saw that she was very vital to Taron’s condition when he arrived at the hospital. I saw her talk to him kindly before I brought him to the CT scan and believe me I know how she saved his life, I examined him but I just don’t feel comfortable letting him leave the hospital only four days after he was admitted, a day after coming off an IV line.”

“Steve, he’s not going to go and do anything reckless. He just wants to go and see the girl who saved his life. Don’t you agree with him when he says Robyn is the only one who understands what he has been through?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then shouldn’t we give them both the opportunity to heal their mental health too?”

“She chose to leave.”

“It wasn’t as easy as that for Robyn. Believe me. Her emotions were very raw too, just like Taron’s and while at the time she saw Taron as her responsibly, once he was in the hospital being cared for, she had her own responsibilities to think about and being a very sensible adult, she made a decision that was extremely hard for her. I have no doubt in my mind that Robyn wouldn’t have left if she didn’t have too.” Phoebe took Steve’s elbow and led him down the corridor a little. “They need to talk this through with each other. If he arrives at her door, do you honestly think she is going to turn him away?”

“He needs rest, not a reunion.”

“I am sure you have gathered by now that Taron is not from here and is working here, work that I am sure has been postponed until he is fully fit. He is not going to stay in America to rest, he will want to go home so he is going to have to take a flight where he will more than likely go to his apartment or house and be by himself…”

“… Or to his family.”

“Who have no idea what he is going through and I would like to point out that you have not argued with me on the ‘flight’ part of that sentence.” Doctor Keane continued before Doctor Hart could protest. “Surely he would be better off going to see the person he has been connected with in the most unusual way possible. There is no one else who Taron can talk to about this and I know for a fact, seeing as how I was the doctor who looked after Robyn that she desperately needs someone to talk to as well and that person should be Taron.”

“He wants to leave tomorrow Phoebe.”

“And?”

“And he has sustained some serious injuries.”

“And?”

“Phoebe!”

“For a man who has been shot, technically died and been through so much stress and anxiety in the last four days, he is still pretty resilient and you and I both know he will not give up that easily and as I speak, he proves my point. Here he comes.”

Taron couldn’t hear the conversation that was going on once the two doctors had moved away from him so even though Ruth tried to stop him, he got up from the chair and walked over to them.

“Look I am sorry for causing a fuss over this. I really don’t mean too. I just… I can’t… I don’t…” Taron stopped and took a shaky breath as he tried to think of what to say, taking another as words failed him. “The hurt, more than the physical hurt, is indescribable and intense and the only person who is going to help me get through this is Robyn and I truly believe that I can help her too. I promise I am not going to do anything that is more than getting a flight, seeing Robyn and sleeping a lot.”

Taron didn’t know if it was the private chat from the second doctor or his pleading but Doctor Hart agreed to discharge him the next day, with strict instructions that he was to rest, take the medication he was to be prescribed and if he felt faint, dizzy or short of breathe he had to go to the local doctor at once.

“Can I ask a favour though?” Chanced Taron talking more to the doctor who had looked after Robyn, feeling it was because of her that Doctor Hart had agreed to sign his discharge papers early. “I don’t know where she lives. I don’t even know her surname. Is there any way you can give me her address from the medical forms she had to fill in please? Or even a surname and I can try and find her myself.”

“That’s some serious breach of doctor and patient confidentially Taron.” Smiled Doctor Keane but without a second thought, walked to the nurse’s station and pulled out Robyn’s file. “Robyn Quinn, Poplar Road, Kilcreen, Co Kildare, Ireland.” She enjoyed the genuine smile that lit up his handsome features as she read out Robyn’s address to him and the unexpected hug he walked around the nurse’s station to give her too.

“You must promise me that you will look after yourself and Robyn too.” She said as she gently hugged him back.

Taron thought he was going to have a tougher battle on his hands when he called his mam to tell her that he wasn’t actually going home to Wales but rather to Ireland but Tina, who desperately wanted to see her son and hug him tight, supported his decision completely.

“Do not apologise to me Taron. Of course, you know I would rather you came home but I also understand this is something you have to do. You need to mentally heal after what you have been through and as much I would love to be that person to help you do that, I know it can’t be and I agree with you, Robyn needs this as much as you do.”

It was his mam who helped him to book the flights over the phone there and then but unfortunately as it was coming to the end of the summer season and most flights were fully booked, the only way to get to Ireland was by taking three flights. One from Tampa to Orlando, Orlando to South Carolina and then South Carolina to Dublin. It was a trip that would take about twenty hours with layovers included but it was his quickest option to get to Robyn so he took it without question.

Richard had already dropped his duffle bag off to him when they had said goodbye to each other Tuesday afternoon, Richards own work commitments meaning he had to leave his friend and Taron was so thankful for Richard when he opened the bag to see brand new t-shirts and jeans in his duffle as well as a peaked hat, some hoodies and a packet of turtles. Taron had only packed shorts and light t-shirts for the weather in Florida. He had already confessed to Richard that he was planning to go and find Robyn when they had a coffee yesterday morning and instead of telling his friend he was stupid, Richard told him he would bring his bag to him, filling it with new clothes, giving him a very supportive hug before he left.

Taron passed by the air hostesses as he walked down the aisle, giving them a smile as he kept going towards the front of the plane, the walking helping a little to relax tired muscles. With the flight being booked so last minute, Taron could only take whatever seat was available to him. He wasn’t bothered by travelling first class or anything like that but really would have liked to have gotten a window seat for the longer flight to Dublin but unfortunately was stuck in the middle for each flight and it was hard having no space either side of him to stretch or move a little and sitting in the middle meant there was not a chance of getting some sleep. He was thinking about using his table as a pillow but figured he would end up regretting staying in that position for too long, so he sat with his hat pulled down low, his eyes closed. He had already taken his pain killer before he got on the plane and it was helping to take the edge of the more severe pain he felt but as he walked up the aisle, each step caused a ripple of discomfort through his side and head.

Taron turned and started to walk back down toward the back of the plane and his seat. Right now, he may have been on the plane on his way to Ireland, but once he got there, he was at a loss of what to do next. It was a rush of booking flights, getting prescriptions filled and completing final examinations so Doctor Hart was absolutely sure he was happy to discharge Taron and he had left the hospital just before six that morning to get to the airport so once he got off the plane in Dublin, he actually didn’t have a plan for what to do next.

He had Robyn’s name and address and that was it and would figure out the rest when he landed. He reached his seat and apologised as the passenger at the end who had to get up to let him back into his seat which he carefully shuffled into, easing himself down. He clicked his seatbelt back in and leaned his head against the chair, closing his eyes and ignored the butterflies in his stomach.