#i have spent YEARS being irritated with its presence on Tumblr because of how it clogs the dp tags

[peachdoxie]

FINE. I GIVE UP RESISTING. DPXDC FICS FOCUSING ON DANNY AND THE BATFAM. MINIMAL SHIPPING. REC THEM TO ME.

[foxtophat]

(still trying to figure out how i link these but whatever)

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!!! i decided to just sit down and hammer out the last edits for this lil one-shot so i could get it out today!

i’m gonna be real with you: the only reason i wrote this fic is because i couldn’t get the idea out of my head.  you weren’t supposed to see mercyverse for another month, honestly!!! but it’s been cold as fuck here and it’s made me fantasize about classic bed-sharing tropes, and so here we are!

this is a bit of a slice of life, to sort of give an idea of how day-to-day these guys all interact, especially now that carmina doesn’t have to pretend john doesn’t exist.  plus, i’m starting to see how the caches might be involved in the overarching plot???? awesome!!!

as usual, the full text is below the cut for my friends who don’t wanna leave tumblr.  i hope you enjoy -- feel free to leave a comment, i loooove hearing from readers. likes and reblogs are also great! kudos are fantastic! adding to the hit counter is just fine by me!!! anything you do to show support for fanfic is a good thing imo.  i hope y’all have a happy wintereenmas or whatever and i will see you guys in 2021 with more mercyverse :)

The best thing Nick can say about the blizzard currently sweeping the county is that he could see that it was coming. They'd gotten almost a foot of snow the night before, which gets him worried about getting snowed in, and as the day progresses, the sky grows an ominous gray that Nick recognizes from a lifetime of living in the area. He knows that they probably only have a few hours left before they're going to want to get inside and avoid the worst a winter storm has to offer.

Nick and John spend the entire morning hauling wood into the house, while Kim does her best to clean out the broken chimney and ensure they won't die of smoke inhalation. They also pull in some pre-made stock that Kim had left in the freezer after it had gotten cold enough to use, as well as a few smaller pieces for miscellaneous projects. But with the storm rolling in overhead, they don't have long; they end up leaving a lot of things for later as the wind whips up around them and turns the snow sideways.

By two in the afternoon, they've closed the doors to officially bunker down for the rest of the blizzard. They have enough wood to last them three days, plus their military rations and plenty of coffee, so Nick isn't particularly concerned about their safety. The only thing he's really got to contend with is boredom, which is easier to stave off in the first few hours of captivity than it is later in the evening.

For the most part, Nick passes the time by sharpening their knives, cleaning their guns, and checking the radio every hour for any emergencies. The blizzard ensures that not many people are on, but at least he gets to check in with Jerome and make sure that Grace is safely in her bunker. It's unlikely they'll get in contact with the trailer park until after the worst passes, but that just means Nick's gonna worry about those jackasses all night.

Kim is probably the only one comfortable with the downtime, making the most of things as she chews on the radio's instructions. When the technical jargon gets to be too much, she switches to entertaining Carmina, who gets bored quick when her only job is to keep the fire going. The easiest distraction comes from card games; the deck they'd had in the bunker had shrunk to only 32 cards, but now that they've got a full deck to work with, Carmina is eager to relearn and master games like Go Fish and Old Maid. Nick doubts Jacob planned to be entertaining kids with his survival gear, but it's not like the guy's gonna complain.

Carmina isn't the only one that Jacob is keeping busy beyond the grave. Ever since they found that cache of his, John has been borderline obsessed with figuring out what the point of it could be. He'll go all day without mentioning the puzzle plaguing him, but any available downtime has him staring at the map and its coordinates. Nick and Kim have both been keeping an eye on it, just in case it turns into something worse than his usual tunnel-vision, but so far it hasn't gotten out of hand. If anything, John seems more aware and alert now that he has something to focus on, and now Nick can even pretend he's a normal guy for conversations at a time before being reminded otherwise.

Of course, the blizzard's making it impossible to find alternate distractions. John does spend part of the afternoon in his room, but eventually, he can't help but come downstairs to mull over the map. There's only one problem with that — they've hung the map up in the radio room, so there's about ten minutes every hour where Nick has no choice but to sit in John's presence. It probably wouldn't bother him so much if there was somewhere else either of them could be, but they're stuck for the foreseeable future. John's looming is just going to be part of Nick's life until the storm passes.

In the interest of keeping the peace, Nick reluctantly tries to have the same level of interest in the random dots that John shows. His attention, however, is distracted by the penciled-in changes that he, Kim and John have all been making to the landscape. The river's wider in some places now, and there are doodles of trees in spaces that were once open fields. A few X's mark places where bridges have collapsed, and Kim's circled anywhere they've made radio contact with. Their notations have scattered across the valley, and have even spread over to the river region thanks to Hurk and his raider gang, but they still don't know anything about the mountains, or even the spaces that are supposedly occupied by bow-wielding religious nutjobs. It's going to be a while before any of them get the nerve to go poking that particular hornet's nest.

John has his little notebook open, but he's not writing anything down. Nick's not sure what he would even put down, since they haven't gotten any more leads since early autumn, but he's always got the thing tucked in a pocket nowadays. Maybe Nick should be mad he outright stole that resource from the rest of them, but — well, come on. He can't yell at the man for taking up journaling, not without flying in the face of every therapist Nick had pretended not to listen to. It's just... well, what the hell is there for him to write down?

"Are you staring for any particular reason?" John asks, because of course he does.

"That's rich, coming from the guy lurking over my shoulder all day." Nick flips off the static-ridden radio frequency, leaning back in his chair so that he can get a better look at the map push-pinned to the wall. "I hear if you look at it just right, you can see a sailboat."

John's clearly not much of a Kevin Smith fan, because he only sighs heavily at Nick's flat joke. "If you have something better for me to be doing, I'm all ears," he says, revealing to Nick at last just how bored he really is. Weirdly enough, being in the same boat as John is somehow reassuring.

"Okay, fine. At least tell me what you're staring at, so I know what to fake interest in."

Even though it's mostly a joke, it lands softly enough that John doesn't take offense. Stuffing the notebook in his back pocket, he shakes his head, gesturing at the map. Getting John to explain himself is usually like pulling teeth, but right now he seems relieved to have someone to bounce his thoughts off of. It's a long way away from the guy Nick remembers saving, enough so that it almost catches his full interest.

"It's nothing in particular, really. I've already spent hours staring at this thing, but I'm... still looking for a pattern, I guess. Jacob was paranoid and secretive, but if there's a hidden code buried in these coordinates, it's beyond me to see it. And the snow was already keeping us from traveling too far — now with this blizzard, we're likely stuck with no new information until spring ..."

John sighs, rubbing his forehead as the pretense finally abandons him. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do until then."

That's certainly a feeling that Nick can relate to. Nick is less of a workaholic than John might be, but that doesn't mean he won't go stir-crazy without his own set of chores. Hell, that's why he's been hanging around the radio in between games of cards with the girls and cleaning whatever he can get his hands on. It must suck extra for John; the guy's been spinning his tires in the dirt for years, probably, and being this close to having a purpose beyond doing whatever chores Nick sets him to must be irritating.

Nick props one leg up against the wall, tapping his boot against the wood as he ponders the dots scattered around the map. There are a few still in the valley, but there's no driving until they thaw out. The points in the mountains are probably inaccessible to anybody, and who knows when they'll get to investigate the old vet center or find the Wolf's Den. There are a couple points nearer the trailer park, though, and not for the first time Nick tries to measure the distance from Hurk to the various red dots. There's one near the lumber mill, and one near where that godawful statue was, and of course one right smack dab in the middle of the original Peggy compound.

Nick can't imagine his truck making it all the way there and back, not without more information about the roads. Hurk might not have the same trouble. "I could send the trailer park a couple coordinates," he points out. "They might get to search before us, and it could cut the work in half."

Despite John's scowl, he only sounds tired as he replies, "I've considered it, but I don't trust them. Then again, I hardly trust myself, so who knows."

"I guess you're shit outta luck, then," Nick says. John takes obvious offense at Nick brushing him off, but hey, what else is Nick supposed to do? "God's giving you a freebie with this blizzard. Maybe you should try catching up on your sleep, or something."

"And ruin the precarious schedule I'm keeping?"

"Jesus, then go read a book! Just — you know, quit hovering over me all day. Don't you know how to entertain yourself?"

John seems unphased by Nick's half-hearted outburst. "This is how I entertain myself. Maps, resources, legal documents — that's probably the only decent outlet I've ever had." He stares at Nick's boot, unwilling to meet his eyes. "At least, it's the only one healthy enough to keep."

That is probably a safe bet, Nick realizes, quickly trying to backpedal away from the open scab that is John's history. "Uh, well, what about before the cult?"

John surprises them both with a brief laugh. "If I could source some coke, then yes, I would be entertained."

"Jesus, John."

"I'm not known for my healthy self-care habits," John points out, a little too smug to be truly self-deprecating. At least he seems to understand what Nick had been getting at originally, deferring with a vague hand-wave. "Is my loitering in the kitchen going to be too smothering for you, too, or is that okay?"

Nick rolls his eyes, flipping the radio back on to scan the channels once again. "It's fine, whatever. Just as long as you've got something better to entertain yourself than snaking the whiskey Jacob left."

"I'm more of a gin guy," John admits.

"Of course you are."

It's still a relief, though, knowing they aren't keeping an alcoholic too near his fix. On top of that, John's relaxed disregard for his past vices settles nerves Nick hadn't even realized were rattled. Sure, there's probably a whole other box of American Psycho- esque worms waiting to be opened up from John's time before Eden's Gate, but at least he seems to have comfortably packed that part of his life away for now. Unlike talking about the cult, John has no trouble dropping the conversation, just as casually as he'd brought it up. He retreats into the kitchen to mull over whatever he's written down already, leaving behind no traumatic story or sad-eyed stare — just the casual admission that he would really like to do some drugs.

Weirdly enough, that is probably the most respectable thing about John to date.

Nick spends another fifteen minutes checking the radio, scanning the channels he knows people use most. He winds up with nothing to show for it — either the storm is making radio communication impossible, or everybody else has given up on their radios. It's only after he's cleared the range twice that he flips the radio off and escapes back to Kim and Carmina, leaving John in the kitchen with a broad, somehow-sarcastic gesture towards the now unoccupied radio nook.

Carmina ropes Nick into a game of Go Fish, which Kim seems keen on losing. Nick isn't surprised — Carmina is a wily player, which is to say that she tries to bluff her way through hands with all the grace of a sledgehammer. Kim's not as willing to put up with cheating as Nick is, but neither of them are capable of even pretending to believe Carmina's poker face. It's going to be a problem one day, but Nick isn't exactly ready to teach his daughter how to lie to his face.

Well, that is until she and Nick are on their third round of Go Fish, and Nick has had to pretend not to see through all of Carmina's gambits.

He asks her if she has any threes, and she scrunches her nose up as she glances meaningfully at her cards. "Go fish," she says, making Nick regret not having Kim sit right behind their daughter as a referee.

"Fine," he grumbles, "If you say so."

Kim blinks skeptically at the pants she's fixing, but she doesn't offer Nick any out. If it weren't for his clumsy hands, maybe he could use darning socks and patching shirts as an excuse to quit playing, but as it stands, the only thing he has other than getting trounced is staring at the map with John. And since he already tried that and found it to be mildly aggravating at best...

"You know, this would be more fun with more people," Nick says, desperately glancing at Kim.

Kim, of course, gives him no quarter. "Why don't you ask John," she suggests rhetorically.

"John," Carmina calls out, "Do you wanna play Go Fish?"

Nick opens his mouth to chastise Carmina, but he realizes there's nothing to discipline her for. Especially not when John flippantly replies, "I think your father's looking to play with fewer cheaters, not more."

"I'm not cheating!" Carmina exclaims, not-so-surreptitiously pressing her cards into her lap to ensure nobody's looking at them. Between that and her guiltily furrowed brow, there's no hiding it. Her poker face needs a lot of work.

"Go Fish isn't even worth cheating at," Nick sighs, gesturing for her cards. "If that's the way you wanna play, at least do it the right way. Here, gimme your cards — John, come over here so I can teach my daughter how to lie to your face."

As if playing a game of cards with John wasn't enough to excite Carmina, she's doubly over the moon when he tells her the rules. After all, a ten-year-old girl is the prime demographic for the game Bullshit, especially when she's given carte blanche to shout cuss words at her dad. On top of that, it seems like bluffing really is half of the fun for his daughter — which is a little intimidating, sure, but at least he knows she's smart enough to understand the utility of lying.

John is... unenthusiastic, to say the least, but that only makes the prospect of humiliating him that much better. A few weeks ago, Nick would've thought John was too fragile to be messed with, but now there's a bounce in his step that will make taking him down easier. He's got to do something to remind himself that this nearly-tolerable man is usually a miserable sonofabitch.

Unfortunately, John has a fantastic poker face. Nick figured that from the get-go, but it's still daunting to play against a bored, uninterested party. That's probably why Carmina avoids John in favor of hounding Nick, calling out "bullshit!" with delightful glee whenever she thinks Nick has dropped the wrong face card or played a nine instead of a King. On the one hand, Nick appreciates that he can read her as well as she can, but on the other hand, he'd really like a chance to beat John. So far, he's the only one who's called John out, and all he has to show for it is the extra six cards in his hand.

Although Kim is on standby for this round, she keeps flashing Nick amused grins whenever Carmina calls bullshit. Nick almost hopes John can hold it together to be mundane for two entire rounds of cards because he wouldn't stand a chance against Kim.

Case in point, John lays down two cards that are meant to be threes, and Kim clicks her tongue disapprovingly. Carmina frowns up at her mom, who only shrugs and suggests, "I would call him out, if I were you."

John's neutral frown doesn't change. "Last I checked, you weren't playing," he says.

Kim only shrugs in response. Nick furrows his brow at Kim while Carmina squints suspiciously from the discard pile to John and then back again. Of course, encouraging a ten-year-old to swear is always going to win out, and so Carmina wrinkles her nose and calls John out with a slightly uncertain, "Okay, bullshit."

Without so much as a grimace of defeat, John lets Carmina flip his played cards — one three, and one dirty, rotten, lying, bullshit seven .

"That's what I thought," Kim says, flippantly triumphant. "Guess you're not as hard to read as you thought."

Nick sure can't tell what John's thinking as he lifts one shoulder noncommittally. "I stand corrected."

"Wait," Nick asks, "What gave it away?"

"I'm not helping you too , Nick," Kim laughs. "That wouldn't be fair."

"It's not exactly fair to help Carmina," John points out. Nick bets he's just as interested in what tell Kim noticed, although he manages to be less obvious about it. At least he can't crack Kim's smug smile any better than Nick, which is some small compensation.

Nick manages to win this hand, if only because his play strategy involves lying as little as possible. That seems to work against Carmina no problem, but Nick suspects John threw the game out of personal disinterest. If it weren't for the howling winds whistling through the roof and second story, John would probably excuse himself from another hand by retreating upstairs, but as it is he manages to sit through one more round of cards, this time with Kim joining in.

Carmina's poker-face doesn't improve by leaps and bounds, exactly, but she manages to fool Nick into picking up a fat stack of cards, so that's something. Too bad he'd been trying to teach her to lie to John , not her parents. Well — at least she's a nice enough kid to only do it for fun. He hopes, anyway.

Kim makes John's loss look more organic, at least, and she doesn't rub it in too badly when she wins. It's extra kind of her considering Nick is the one who called her last play bullshit, leaving him to rot in miserable third place after both his girls. Well, fine . At least Carmina seemed to have fun, even if Nick is now sitting with nearly half a deck in his hands. If the blizzard keeps up for too long, they might have to graduate to poker.

Before they can play any more card games, though, they take time out for dinner. It's almost normal, sitting around the fireplace with their military rations and some hot broth — if they were eating Marie Calendar pot-pies and watching Christmas movies, Nick would even be able to ignore John's presence sticking out like a sore thumb.

The next best thing to watching movies is talking about them, which has become something of a tradition between the Ryes. It all started in the bunker, where Kim and Nick ran out of normal Christmas stories and began taking turns narrating whatever holiday movies they could remember. They've run through all the memorable Rankin & Bass flicks, as well as a couple more contemporary ones, so they're starting to reach for their personal favorites or the very bottom of the barrel plots.

Nick intends to be paying Jingle All the Way a tribute tonight, but as soon as he mentions that the Arnold Schwarzenegger vehicle is one of his favorites, he's interrupted by John snorting derisively.

"Let me guess," Nick snaps, "You're one of those jackasses who pretends Die Hard is a legitimate Christmas movie just so he doesn't have to watch good, family-friendly content."

"It is a legitimate Christmas movie," John responds, just petulantly enough to tell Nick he hit the nail on the head.

"Look, Kim and I have already had this discussion — just because it takes place during Christmas doesn't make it a Christmas movie . Set dressing alone isn't enough!"

John raises his eyes towards the ceiling, which is as subtle as his eyerolls can get. "Whatever you say, Nick."

"What's Die Hard about?" Carmina asks, excitedly guessing, "Does Santa get to shoot people in it?"

"That would be a good Christmas movie," Nick replies. "No, it's just about some guy who has to fight bad guys in a building."

"During Christmas," Kim points out.

"Okay, fine during Christmas. But nobody's dressed up like Santa, nobody sings any carols, and there sure as hell isn't any Christmas magic that saves the day, so it doesn't count!"

"So what does happen?" Carmina asks.

Damn it — Nick should have known that talking about an action flick would immediately disinterest her towards any sloppy story about consumerism. She doesn't even know what a mall is — but she knows how to shoot a handgun, and now that Nick's thinking about it, she might need to use the duct-tape shoulder holster trick one day. It would be pretty bad-ass if she knew how, anyway.

"Okay, fine, I'll do it real quick. I don't remember all the parts, so Kim, you gotta help."

Real quick turns out to take almost as much time as the movie itself had. Kim interjects whenever Nick forgets a plot point, but at least he remembers the core conflict. Sort of, anyway — by the time he's done recounting John McClane's tale, John looks visibly dissatisfied, and Kim has a "well, sort of" expression on her face that implies he didn't quite nail the execution. Well, who cares what they think? All that matters is that Carmina is entertained, and of course she is. After all, narrated or not, it's still Die Hard . Just so long as she doesn't ask about the sequels, they should be okay.

The wind is still whipping overhead, and Nick can see nothing beyond the windows. There's no telling how late it's gotten. Although his internal clock insists it can't have been that long since sundown, Carmina has been yawning for a while now, and the fire's gone down again. It looks like sleeping through the storm is the only pastime left for Nick to try.

Carmina takes over stoking the fire for the final time before bed, while Kim makes her way upstairs to gather as much of their bedding as she can carry. John follows reluctantly behind, clearly unhappy with the prospect of facing his own cold room, but Nick figures he can deal for five damn minutes. For his part, Nick busies himself checking the radio one last time, just in case there's an emergency. He doesn't know what they'd be able to do if there was one, but that doesn't stop him from checking anyway.

With the radio situated just under the stairs, it's easy to listen in to Kim stomping around in the room above, desperate to keep her temperature up. Nick had put off too many attic repairs before this winter — he's going to have to make up for that in spring, when he and John can worm their way into the rafters and ensure that their next winter won't turn the bedrooms into a cold wasteland. Of course, even if they did patch up the gaps in the floorboards and do their best to insulate the attic, not much can beat a genuine fire in the middle of a snowstorm.

Nick isn't even paying attention to the radio, so he flips it off and trusts that everyone can keep themselves safe for another night. He hears the whump of fabric as Kim tosses their two biggest, least moldy blankets down for Carmina to start with, and the creak of footsteps on the landing overhead. Kim's voice isn't raised, but it carries down to Nick clear as a bell.

"John, you'll freeze if you stay up here," she says. "Get your stuff and come downstairs."

"It's not that cold," John says, attempting to deflect from one weak excuse with another. "I doubt Nick approved that suggestion."

Well, not technically, no, but Nick had sort of assumed they were already all on the same page. What does John think Nick's gonna do, force him to freeze upstairs so he can hog the fireplace all to himself?

Kim doesn't give the excuses a chance to breathe, replying with parental exasperation. "He and I both agree it's too cold to sleep upstairs." Nick can hear the teasing plain as day when she adds, "Just don't be weird about it."

Sure enough, suggesting John might be making things awkward is enough to get him to shut up and follow orders. Nick briefly longs for the days when John would mutely nod and do as told without any additional goading, but only for a second. Even that is long enough retrospection to remind Nick of how creepy and genuinely alarming it had been. Sure, John might get argumentative or exasperated now, but at least there's an actual person to communicate with. Nick might want to kick his ass more now than before, but he absolutely hated dealing with the hollow-eyed monster John had been.

Besides, it's way more satisfying being a dick to him now that he actually gets offended.

Despite John's furrowed-brow glares, Nick doesn't comment whatsoever on him trailing downstairs after Kim, clutching two actual blankets and a tarp that's weather-worn enough to pass muster. He stands and waits for someone to point him in the right direction as Kim and Carmina do their best to bundle together a soft place on the floor, but Nick studiously ignores him until he makes a decision himself. John takes a spot close to the fireplace, off to the right of where the girls are setting up. It's still plenty removed enough, so that nobody will get the wrong idea and think John is supposed to be welcome down here. Nick wonders who he's trying to convince, but there are so many damn demons in the man's head, it's anybody's guess.

With the fire roaring for the last time that night, all the blankets arranged and everybody looking exhausted despite not doing anything all day, Nick finally gets to crawl into bed and put this whole goddamn blizzard behind him. Hopefully, the weather has the common sense to clear up tomorrow — for now, it's time to shut out the cold entirely.

He must be tired. Nick barely stays conscious as Kim and Carmina climb under the blankets, the cool air rapidly warming as they begin to shift around and get comfortable. He rouses a few times at first as Carmina kicks his leg and Kim bumps into him, but eventually, he finds himself dozing in the silence of a quiet house. Far above them, the wind is whipping through the attic, but from down here, it sounds like a generic white-noise machine; coupled with the crackling fire, Nick is lulled to sleep by the sounds of peaceful normalcy.

Who knows how long it is before Nick finds himself conscious again. Even then, he only wakes enough to hear the dying fire popping by his feet. Maybe he should stoke it. But that would mean moving, and Nick is weighted down on either side beneath warm blankets, so that's a hard no. He tries first to roll towards Kim and Carmina, ready to curl into a ball and conserve even more heat, but his right arm is stuck. It takes a few bleary-eyed blinks to realize what's pinned him down, but he's barely coherent enough to make sense of it.

Sometime in the night, John must've migrated from the no-man's-land he'd made for himself towards the Rye's pile of blankets. Unsurprising, really — but more than a little awkward, given how he's pressed into Nick's side, pinning Nick's arm in place. Worse yet, half of his blankets have been absorbed into the mess that Nick's been using to keep warm, which is going to make extracting himself tricky if not impossible.

While he tries to figure out how to avoid making this mortifying situation worse, Nick watches John for any signs of consciousness. The guy usually sleeps light, but Nick watches his breathing for a solid minute and doesn't catch anything. Either his poker-face is just that good, or John is actually asleep. Deeply, peacefully asleep. Nick had assumed that was impossible.

If Nick were a better person, he'd probably be thankful to see it. Glad to know that John's insomnia might finally be coming to an end. But Nick is mostly just an exhausted, anxious mess, and now he's just wondering how to get out of the situation he's found himself in.

John shifts, and like a guilty ten-year-old, Nick immediately closes his eyes and pretends to be asleep. If he's lucky, John will roll away of his own volition, or at least move enough to let Nick roll over himself. If only he'd decided to sleep on Kim's side — she wouldn't have the same trouble Nick has. She'd just kick him away and be done with it.

Slowly, John moves away from Nick. The relief is short-lived as John pulls back the covers enough to send a cold chill down Nick's side; it's a split-second decision that John immediately regrets, hissing under his breath and letting the blankets fall back into place as he recoils from the freezing temperatures.

Nick can't help his quiet huff of amusement — which is enough to break the illusion that he'd been asleep in the first place. He could probably still fake it, but if he does, John will definitely try to move his blankets, and that is going to be a much bigger problem than tolerating John in his personal space.

"Quit squirming so much," Nick mutters. "Gonna let in the cold."

John is silent and tense beside him, but he does stop squirming. It's like lying near a tense bar of iron. After a brief struggle to figure out what to say, John's embarrassment catches in his voice as he apologizes. "I'm sorry," he rasps. "I — must have been tired."

Nick sighs. "Just don't crush my arm again."

Even though John moves as though Nick threatened him, he stops short of retreating from the blankets entirely. Nick can only imagine how cold it must be — every breath of his that makes it above the blanket-line comes with a faint puff of visible air. No matter how humiliating it might be to cuddle up to Nick, it doesn't seem like John had much of a choice in the matter.

Before John can decide to try escaping again, Nick repeats, "Whatever you do, don't let in the cold."

In for a penny, Nick decides, worming deeper into the makeshift bed so that John can have more room. Rolling over is the easiest way to avoid the mortifying process of finding a comfortable sleeping arrangement. Eventually, they wind up back-to-back; Nick normally wouldn't be able to stand John touching him, but the additional body-heat does a lot to soothe Nick's reservations. Who knew all he needed to tolerate John's physical presence would be cold weather and exhaustion?

The Deputy, probably, which only makes Nick grin in tired relief. At least they would be glad to know that Nick's grown as a person. They'd probably be glad to learn he's finally gotten on-board with not murdering the Seeds in cold blood — even if it took an apocalypse to get there. If they could see the shit he's gotten himself into now, they'd probably...

He sighs. It must be a heavier sound than he imagined, because John whispers, "What?"

"Nothing," Nick says immediately, as default an answer as John's yeses are. But that's not fair, he doesn't think, because they never let John get away with his obvious deflections. As late as it is, it's easy to blame his guilt on his exhaustion. "Just thinking about Rook," he admits.

"Oh."

John is clearly uncomfortable with the topic, but he doesn't react when Nick continues sleepily, "They'd get a kick outta this, is all."

John hums. It's a quiet noise, but Nick can feel it vibrate through John's shirt. If there are two people Nick hates bringing Rook up around, it's Sharky and John. Sure, Sharky's crush was the one that was reciprocated, but Dep had always treated John's flat-footed overtures like creepy compliments instead of outright threats. They'd probably figured John's crush was superficial, whereas Sharky's had been more real than probably anything else Nick had seen the poor sap go through. John's infatuation had been about power, control, and Joseph goddamn Seed. Still, Nick can't help but wonder just how much of it might've been real to John at the time.

"They had a bad sense of humor," John finally responds, quietly enough that Nick almost misses the hurt.

"Terrible," Nick agrees.

When John sighs, Nick recognizes it as a sign of defeat. Whatever he's debating with himself, he's clearly lost. Although he doesn't speak up again, Nick isn't sure he's gone back to sleep. He sure hopes he didn't just instill another restless night in the guy, but that's John's burden to bear. Maybe he can use it to finally find some common ground with Sharky.

Nick isn't even sure that he can fall back asleep, but that doesn't seem to matter. Before he knows it, he's being woken up once more — this time by a glance of sunlight coming in through the upper part of the windows. It's just enough light to wake him, but he spends an exhausted minute staring at the wall over Kim's shoulder as he debates whether or not he's really committing this time. He's going to need to use the bathroom sooner or later — and just thinking that is enough to tell Nick that he's not getting back to sleep again.

John's back is still facing Nick, and Kim rolls away as soon as Nick starts to squirm, which leaves his path to escape much more open than it was a few hours ago. He manages to pull himself free without waking anyone else, but as soon as he does, John worms into the warm spot left behind. Nick should probably be upset, but mostly he just needs to pee. He can kick John out of his spot after he takes care of himself.

Nick leaves the rest of them to sleep as he tiptoes across the living room to the front door. Unfortunately, the door only wedges open an inch before it hits a wall of snow. Unwilling to wake anyone else up with catastrophic noise, Nick heads upstairs, going for the broken window in John's room. It's freezing up here, cold enough to keep meat until spring, and Nick pulls his flannel closer as he crosses the room, trying not to take too much stock of his surroundings. He doesn't care about the tallies John used to carve in the wall by his bed, and he definitely doesn't care to snoop through the pile of clothes that John's been growing in the corner. What he does care about is how easy it is to crawl out onto the roof from the window — after all, this isn't the first time Nick's been snowed in, and he's made escaping his childhood home an art-form.

There's a good three and a half feet of snow on the ground below, blocking any exit from the first floor. At least the gray sky above is calm, and the weather seems to have calmed down some. They'll have to prepare for another couple of inches before the week's out, but Nick bets the worst of it is over. Now he can think about breakfast — more specifically, coffee — and debate the best way to clear the doorways. They need a path out to the hangar, although they can wait another day or two before they'll need to press the matter. Nick's still convinced there's a set of tire chains hiding away in there, but it's not like the roads will be in any condition to drive on for a while yet...

Nick spends so much time thinking about what he's got to do, he forgets to consider how willing the rest of the house will be to pitch in. The top-of-the-snow sunlight isn't enough heat to make up for the lack of a fire, and getting Kim out from under the blankets is gonna be like pulling teeth until he does something about it. Worse yet, John's rolled into the spot Nick had occupied — not exactly sprawled out, or anything, but the guy is irritatingly close to Kim's sleeping back. If he decided to roll one more time, he'd probably end up smacking his face into her shoulder.

Nick considers throwing a fit on principle, but honestly, that's too much work. It's much easier to sulk, glowering at the bed he's definitely not getting back into before getting some logs to stack in the fire. He drops them noisily by John's feet, although he makes every effort not to accidentally pull a Misery on the guy.

The sound of hollow wood clattering on the ground is enough to stir John, who wakes with a sharp inhale, and cause Carmina to groan and turn away from the noise. Kim has probably been awake for a while now, but it won't make a lick of difference until the fire's on.

He turns away to toss the logs semi-haphazardly into the fireplace, then remembers the kindling and turns to get it. John has propped himself on his elbows, but his half-waking confusion causes him to overlook Nick entirely as he stares around the room. Seeing Kim and Carmina asleep next to him is initially met with confusion. He barely seems to recognize the shapes bundled in the blankets, but when he does he recoils in shock. All the nasty comments Nick had thought up take an abrupt backseat as he stops to marvel at the physical repulsion John shows. He's not sure if he should be offended or not. Probably not, but this apocalypse has got Nick wired all wrong.

"She's not gonna bite," Nick says. John whips his attention back to Nick the moment he raises his voice, only for Nick to realize that looming over the guy with a thick block of wood in hand might send the wrong message.

Sure enough, John catches sight of him, jerking back with a startled hiss. " Jesus !"

"Shit, sorry." Nick turns and drops the log, wincing at the noise that he'd moments ago been deliberately making. "Well, judging from that reaction, looks like this isn't the first time a man's caught you in bed with his wife."

John's withering glare is enough to lift Nick's mood right up. He turns his attention back to starting the fire, listening as John slowly shifts his way free of the blankets. Part of him wants to make a few more jokes at John's expense, but that can wait until John's coherent enough to be snide in return.

Nick gets the fire going and turns to follow John, who's made his way into the kitchen to peer out the window. "Completely snowed in," Nick tells him as he gets the instant coffee and the beat-up kettle. "But it looks like the worst of it's over."

"Seems to be," John agrees, adding, "We forgot the shovels in the truck. It's going to be difficult digging them out now."

"Not a lot of other options, unless you wanna stay inside until the big thaw. Don't worry, I'm sure Carmina will be excited to help us dig."

John hums in assent, although his mind seems to be somewhere else. Nick can't help but notice that John's pensive states seem damned near reasonable nowadays. He has plenty to think about, and he seems to be keeping one foot in the here-and-now. He's aware enough of his surroundings that he stops Nick before he can leave John to it.

He tries to stare Nick down, but he can't quite manage it. "Thank you for not..."

John gestures vaguely as the rest of the sentence fails to generate. Nick could probably wait it out, but he's just as embarrassed as John apparently is, and he would rather move past the whole thing.

"Don't worry about it," Nick says. "Just don't get too comfortable cuddling up to me."

Rolling his eyes doesn't hide John's faint smile, but he turns away before Nick can see if it lasts. "That won't be a problem, trust me."

Nick is surprised that he does, even for something as small and inconsequential as a joke. "Grab the mugs when you're done looking for Santa," he says, turning back for the warmth of the fire. A few months ago, Nick might've resented how eroded the line has become between John and his own family, but it's honestly too much work to keep up. At a certain point, they're just going to have to include John in their daily routines — Nick just hadn't expected that point to be made by sharing blankets during a blizzard.

Well, there's one good thing about that, Nick supposes — it means that somewhere up there, the Deputy is watching over them. After all, there's no way in hell random chance has the same shitty sense of humor as Rook had.

[liskantope]

Back during my early days on Tumblr, around the time I started here actually, I started reading Questionable Content comics from the beginning, 10 per day, to catch up to the current ones (at the time the comics numbered just over 3000). The day I finished the first 1000 I blogged about it, and then after the 2000th and 3000th I reblogged to update my review. The final reblog, from December 15th, 2015, is here.

The 4000th QC comic came out on Friday, and I’ve decided that in keeping with tradition it’s time to write a review of the past 1000 (although I’m doing it in a fresh post and not reblogging because apparently back in 2015 I hadn’t discovered readmore links yet and the post would look annoyingly long). So let’s get right to it... under the readmore link which I now know is a thing.

This past thousand comics, more than the previous runs of 1000, happens to converge upon a few prominent themes and one very prominent new character: Bubbles. As Bubbles is introduced soon after comic #3000 and is then heavily developed through the next thousand comics, with many of the story arcs (including the longest one ever seen in QC) centering on her, I might call the period of this past thousand comics The Year of Bubbles or something like that if in fact it were only a year instead of almost four (The 200-Week-Period of Bubbles doesn’t roll off the keyboard quite as nicely).

More generally, this webcomic has taken the AI theme to a whole new level in the past thousand comics with Bubbles’ introduction and development only the most major component of this -- whereas the presence of AI was a very minor and almost awkward side-issue in the early days of QC, the comic has now gone full-on robot-themed. I’d estimate that something in the ballpark of one third of the content in the #3000′s was focused on robots’ interactions and relationships with each other -- I think for the first time one could say it passed the AI-rights analog of the Bechdel test. Some 1000 comics ago I remember being mildly impatient at how robot-themed the content was getting, perhaps out of a vague feeling that the human characters were the ones I identified with the most (perhaps in the QC universe, and possibly the real world before the end of my lifetime, this would be considered a semi-subconscious form of bigotry which I can’t call “human-ism” but would deserve some term). I particularly remember not being enthralled with Bubbles when she was first introduced and was slightly irritated that she was immediately taking center stage.

But Bubbles, as well as the story arcs involving AIs in general, grew on me a lot, not just as an allegory of real-life social justice issues but as stories which provoke ideas and questions that I find interesting in their own right. In the case of the comics involving Bubbles, I think they mainly show just how masterful the cartoonist Jeph Jacques’ writing and approach to character development has become. Every bit of dialog taking place between Bubbles and other characters (particularly Faye of course) is gold, often without a single word that could be changed. The sequence of scenes during the #3700′s through which Faye and Bubbles finally get together is the epitome of this and in my opinion the very best writing we’ve seen in QC.

The actual outcome of Faye and Bubbles winding up in a relationship with each other, along with all the constant hints and speculation and build-up leading up to it, now that I have much more mixed feelings about. It precisely puts its finger on one of the main ever-present aspects of the ethos of QC which I’ve complained about before more than once and wound up calling “sex-causality”. Part of me wishes I hadn’t spent as many words ranting about this issue and I’m still uncertain on exactly how I categorize it, as purely a personal distaste or something more objective that does happen in certain subcultures and is bad when pushed on members who are uncomfortable with it, or what. But I do think the slow development of Faye/Bubbles over the course of most of the past thousand comics deserves a brief discussion as an example. There are two prongs to this thing: the fact that Faye and Bubbles getting together was the outcome, and the intermittent banter of all of the other characters about that outcome through hundreds of comics in approaching it.

With regard to their getting together in a both romantic and sexual relationship, it would go against my principles to oppose something like this. That said, it’s a departure from what we knew about Faye (which, to QC’s credit, is openly acknowledged), I would imagine that in a universe with human-like still-made-of-metal AI such a thing would still be somewhat more unusual than it’s given credit for being in the comic. Then again, it’s almost impossible not to underestimate the variety and frequency of still-under-discussed sexualities that are out there (e.g. romantic love and sexual attraction towards metal objects is definitely a thing), and certainly it makes the story more interesting, which after all is part of the writer’s job. No, what I think bothers me here is what feels like an under-representation or under-recognition of profoundly intimate friendships that don’t at any point contain an element of one party wanting to sleep with the other -- does there have to be a sexual element to every relationship that’s deep? It was mainly for this reason, I guess, that once I saw a meaningful (platonic) relationship blossoming between Faye and Bubbles, and noticed how well it was written and how much good it was doing each of them, that I feel it was a really beautiful thing as it was and began actively rooting against the ship that most of the other characters were rooting for.

As for the speculation between the other characters, well, if you’ve been following QC and my posts on this issue like the one I linked to above (those of you who have even made it up to this point in this post!), then you might guess rightly that my main reaction was profound annoyance. I don’t like getting on my high horse about other mostly-inoffensive adults acting kind of immature because I’m trying to stay open to it possibly being a personal-taste thing and maybe mostly on my end, but, well, I thought a lot of the banter irritating in a way that perceived immaturity irritates me. These two comics epitomize what I find annoying, and the “You just... seem to care about her a lot, that’s all” line at the start of this one points to precisely my complaint about the existence of deep platonic friendships not being recognized. Anyway, by the time we got past the dinner conversation in the comics I just linked to, I was throwing up my hands and fully onboard with the Faye/Bubbles ship just to finally be done with all the excited speculative giggling. And as I said, when it finally did happen, the writing (including of the reactions of other characters) was fantastic.

To (finally) change the topic away from Bubbles, some of my emotional reaction to QC has shifted subtly while the last thousand comics were coming out. The period of publication from #3001 to #4000 happens to have spanned a segment of my life (which will hopefully be ending soon) in which I’ve felt quite lonely and isolated. And watching all the interactions going on in the QC world makes me feel... not nostalgic exactly because I was never really part of a social circle quite like Marten’s... but rather bittersweet because of how much I’d like to be in so many ways. QC presents a fictional environment that in the confines of my brain I often call a “social utopia” or, perhaps slightly less ridiculously, something like a “social circle / subcultural utopia”. It’s poor terminology because the QC universe on the whole isn’t a utopia in any sense of the word -- in fact there are plenty of social ills that form the backdrop of many storylines -- and even when confined to looking at how the particular social circle operates “utopia” doesn’t seem like an appropriate term. But the variety of people in the social group, the places, they meet, and the way they interact with each other all seems to click together and operate in what I would consider -- and I believe the artist Jeph Jacques would consider -- to be pretty close to idyllic. I like especially how much diversity there is among the characters, both in their backgrounds and interests as well as their quirks, and how completely at ease and accepting they are of each other in spite of or almost because of them. There’s this vibe of “We’re all a little weird but we share the same values about how to be decent human beings, so let’s all revel in our weirdness together and be there for each other through thick and thin!” (Of course there are some bad characters lying on the periphery and kinda-sorta-dicks like Sven who are mostly excluded from the group, but that’s not the core of the world.) With few exceptions, conflicts are resolved in a very systematic way and almost immediately (with only a couple of exceptions that did eventually end happily).

And as a matter of fact, even during times when I was fairly socially happy, I was never part of any group that was so exemplary in this particular way. But reading QC, which is hopefully at least somewhat drawn from the cartoonist’s own experiences, sort of gives me hope or at least a very concrete means of imagining such a crowd. And even if I did feel the need to gripe from time to time about what I call the “sex-casual” norms that permeate the group interactions, honestly in the grand scheme of things that’s just something I could live with or even enjoy if comes through in a non-pushy, non-conformist way, in order to be part of such a welcoming and healthy family.

[thisgarbagepicker]

“Impulse and One-Upmanship” - Reylo Weekly Challenge

Getting back to @two-halves-of-reylo Tumblr weekly challenges to put a dent in the prompt backlog after a very long hiatus — starting with Prompt #17, ‘Escape’.

“Impulse and One-Upmanship” (AO3)

Words: 2,764

Summary: When Kylo makes a reckless attempt to do some good in the galaxy, Rey finds herself making an equally reckless attempt to rescue him from the fallout. Afterward, on the Falcon, they tend to some wounds and face some difficult standing questions.

***

Blaster fire and explosions still rang in Rey’s ears, so maybe she was shouting too loudly. She couldn’t tell, and it didn’t seem to matter whether she was one way or the other. As they hurtled up the boarding ramp and into the mouth of the Falcon, Ben immediately overtook her and veered straight for the gun well before she could even finish the command that he do so. He was running through a limp and leaking blood from somewhere she hadn’t had time to identify. They could figure that out later. His injuries didn’t appear to be life-threatening, and she already knew hers weren’t. Lingering here any longer, on the other hand, would be.

She knew perfectly well by now that the old freighter was deceptive. Despite appearances and the ever-present sense that it was on the verge of collapse, it was quick and maneuverable. Still, it was not made to be piloted alone. Rey had done so before, always in situations like the one she now found herself in, when no other recourse was available. It wasn’t easy. But she’d managed it getting here, and she would manage it until they were out of atmosphere and able to make the jump to hyperspace. Until then, guns were more crucial than convenience.

Impatiently, she waited for the systems to come to life, drumming a hand on the arm of the pilot’s seat and scanning the controls out of habit, watching each light blink awake (too slow, too damn slow, come on), hearing circuits hum and fans whir, and finally enough was done. She punched the acceleration—too much, too fast. The ship jerked and shuddered, then rose from the rocky terrain she’d landed on an hour before and trundled into open air. They were gaining altitude, but slowly.

Rey willed herself to focus and work with what she had as she activated the shields. She was running a few mental calculations to center herself when the comm crackled and issued Ben’s voice. “You’re going to kill us both if you keep pushing it like that.”

She glared at the speaker, aware that Ben couldn’t see her do so. It made her feel better anyway, and she would take what she could get. Who was he to advise her about caution?

“I know how to fly this thing. Shut up and shoot.”

“I will when there’s something to—”

He cut off and she caught the conspicuous shriek of TIE fighters, loud enough to be heard over the noise of her own ship. It was followed moments later by the sound of the Falcon’s laser cannons, then that of an explosion. Two explosions. Three . . . and four.

“Nice shooting,” she offered, feeling momentarily generous as she kept an eye on the horizon. The sound of her own voice grounded her, as it always had when she’d spent nearly all her time alone.

“I know.” Rey rolled her eyes, another look sadly lost on him as he continued speaking. Maybe the one disadvantage of company: other people could talk back. “Return the favor and forget what I said. Push this junk heap or soon we’re going to be facing more than it can handle.”

“Stop telling me how to fly.”

The Falcon climbed higher, faster now and breaking through the clouds. They were probably safe from fire, but she wouldn’t feel at ease until they were out of the planet’s gravity and slicing through the long wash of hyperspace. Thirty more seconds, and that should do it. Would even that be too long? She gripped the hyperdrive lever, her other hand still resting on the steering yoke, both hands steady for all that her knuckles were white and her arms trembling with adrenaline.

Twenty seconds . . . they were out of the clouds, she could see stars and a distant ringed moon . . . ten . . . scratch that, this was enough. She hoped. It had to be. Rey pushed the lever and felt her vision swim as the starscape stretched before her and sent them off into the bright and blue.

                                                                ***

Autopilot activated, Rey rounded the corner into the communal area and found Ben already there, hunched over an open trunk that housed the medical kit. It was also currently home to a random assortment of hardware and maintenance tools, many of them broken, which she had been wanting to find the time to sort and mend. But doing so had never been a top priority, and now she could see that the disorder was causing him some irritation. A wrench flew across the room and clattered over the top of the dejarik table. Rey eyed the situation, picked up the wrench (as Ben sent a pair of pliers off in a similar manner—though that, at least, just bounced off a seat), and approached him.

“Sit down,” she said. The adrenaline was still a rush, and she was grouchy, but she didn’t feel like arguing and hoped he had similar priorities. Sadly, she doubted it, given that she needed to dodge a nondescript pouch that went sailing by her head as she stood behind him. “What are you looking for?”

“Whatever you have in here that’ll stanch this,” he sniped, still digging around in the trunk. He paused briefly to indicate the spot on his right side where blood had been soaking through the fabric of his shirt. That explained the leaking, then. It hadn’t been that much when she intercepted him, though she had little frame of reference. She noticed now that there were little spots of blood on the floor near his foot. “Assuming it’s even possible to find something like that in this mess.”

“Go sit,” she repeated. “You’re just going to make it worse with all this huffing and thrashing,”

“I'm doing neither of those things.”

He stopped his violent searching, though, and stood slowly. He was favoring his left leg. With some effort, he hobbled over to the bench near the dejarik table and eased himself down. He sat for a few seconds, thought better of it, and laid back.

Rey looked over at him and then returned her attention to the issue of the medkit. “Take that off.”

“What?”

“Your shirt. I need to see how bad that is.”

“It isn’t as bad as it looks,” he muttered, pushing himself up and beginning to worm his way out of his shirt. She was glad he at least wasn’t arguing with that. “It's just bleeding a lot.”

Rey almost laughed. “Yeah, all over the inside of my ship. That’s not usually a good sign.”

If he hadn't looked at his injury yet, which she knew he hadn’t, she doubted he could adequately evaluate its severity. Though she could admit he probably had a point; if it was truly terrible, he wouldn't be standing or talking. Or sitting up. Or being so snarky—she assumed. She was no medical professional, but she’d had plenty of practice patching herself up over years of solitary life, and to her, he looked all right. Bruised, scratched, a little paler than usual, but all right.

The medkit was indeed proving a pain in the ass to navigate. Chewie helped with maintenance, and he apparently had similar habits to Han. And Rey herself wasn’t particularly tidy. She was regretting that now. Over her shoulder, she called, “What did you do to your leg?”

“Turned an ankle.” He grunted a little when the fabric of the shirt stuck to the bloody mess under his arm, and Rey could actually hear the sound of it peeling away from his skin. “You going to tell me to take my pants off so you can check that minor inconvenience too?”

“Dream on.”

She didn't have time for nonsense. She needed to get back up front and check their progress. Ah, finally. She found an unopened package of bacta patches, a pair of long-nosed tweezers, and an irrigation bulb and disinfectant. It would do in a pinch, which they were. Pleased with herself, Rey rose and joined Ben on the bench. His body was as battered as his face. He had his arm lifted and was prodding at the wound with a finger, face impassively curious.

She held out a hand and waited. “Let me see.”

He held her gaze for a moment, then shifted to give her a better look. The wound was raw and messy, located on his side not far from his pectoral. Though it was large enough to bleed a lot, it did not appear to be unmanageable with what she had at her disposal, for the time being. Good. When she leaned in and put a hand to his elbow to nudge his arm higher, she noticed an odd glint from the far side of the cut. Not good.

“Huh.” She frowned and reached for the tweezers. “You’ve got some metal bit or something lodged in there. Lie down on your side. Keep your arm up out of the way. I’ll try to pull it out. It doesn’t look too big.”

Ben did as she requested, moving to his left side. He curled his right arm up and tucked it under his head to give her as good a vantage point as possible. It actually helped quite a bit, because the motion pulled the skin around the wound nice and taut. The way he was propped, he couldn’t really watch her work, either, which Rey preferred. She didn’t like feeling scrutinized, particularly when she was doing something that required her full attention.

“What did this come from, anyway?” she asked, trying to keep him distracted, though he seemed to be handling that on his own. The way he was lying may have kept her from his line of sight, but it afforded him an opportunity to look around the room. It wasn’t very interesting, in her opinion. Even so, she noticed the way his eyes roamed the walls and ceiling, pausing here and there, his brow twitching occasionally.

“The ship I wrecked. Half of it ended up blown out. That’s probably a chunk of cockpit or control console.”

She was expecting him to be tensed and to have to tell him to relax. He wasn’t much at all. Surely, he’d gone through situations like this enough times for him to be practiced at it. In afterthought, she wondered if her own presence had something to do with it as well. That wasn’t a thought she wanted to dwell on—it was self-indulgent. Stuff like that made it difficult to concentrate.

She used the irrigation bulb to douse the wound in disinfectant. Perhaps she should have done that first, but she’d been too busy sating her curiosity about what he’d been doing to get in this state and require rescuing. The liquid cleared much of the dried blood away and gave her a better view of the puncture site. Feeling more confident, she rinsed her hands and the tweezers in the sterile fluid, then took a breath. “Right. Keep still, I’m pulling it out now.”

Rey glanced at his face to verify he’d heard her, then gripped the exposed edge of the shard with the tweezers, made sure she had it at a good angle, and pulled carefully straight up. It came free easily and cleanly, as far as she could tell, with little to announce its removal beyond a sharp intake of breath from Ben. The whole brief process reminded her of stripping half-exposed chips and wiring from the inside of the wrecks she used to loot. She preferred this—a little blood was better than the risk of electrocution or burns.

Her assumption of the shard’s size hadn’t been wrong. It was maybe two inches long and about an inch wide, hammered thin and melted a little, but surprisingly uniform in shape. The dull silver sheen of it was currently slicked over with Ben’s blood. He started to make as if he was going to sit up, but she pressed a hand to his shoulder.

“Hang on, I still need to cover it. Check this out.” She held the tweezers, still clutching the metal piece, toward him. “Souvenir?”

He gave a huff of reluctant laughter, then winced slightly. “I’ll pass.”

“Hm. Sorry about your ship, anyway.” She set the shard and tweezers down on the dejarik board and returned her attention to the wound. The bleeding had slowed considerably now that Ben wasn’t moving around and foreign objects had been removed. The edges were relatively clean, too; not as ragged as she’d first thought before cleaning it. She grabbed the bulb and soaked the area in disinfectant again, patted it dry with a clean cloth, and cast about for the bacta patch.

“It wasn’t mine,” Ben said. He saw her searching and held the wrapped patch up. She hadn’t noticed, but he’d been fiddling with it as she worked. “I stole it.”

“Impressive. Been there.” She was still more focused on applying the patch, making sure the edges fused cleanly to his skin, but when that was done she offered him a small smile. “What happened to yours?”

“I’m trying not to think about it too much.”

"Sounds like a story.” Rey was throwing the medkit back together—once again, she'd have to consider tidying it up another day. “I've got to go make sure we're still on course, but get dressed and meet me up there. If you want. Co-pilot seat’s still open.”

He nodded mutely, and Rey returned the the cockpit. She sank down into the pilot’s chair and shut off the autopilot, confirmed that the route was sound, and finally let herself relax. Though the concept of relaxation was relative right now. What was she going to do with Ben? The decision to come after him with no backup—to rescue him—had been the very definition of poor impulse control. She’d done something like this once before, hadn’t she, years ago? And how had that ended?

Not well. Kriff.

Watching the stars streak past lost its distractive charm quickly. She was about to click the comm back on, call to the lounge and confirm that Ben was still there, when he did her one better—he limped into the cockpit and sat heavily in the seat she’d offered him almost fifteen minutes before.

“You didn’t need to come,” he said, as if they’d been in the middle of a conversation already.

“I know that. A bit like how you didn’t need to try taking out a First Order manufacturing base on your own.” Now that they were out of direct danger and she had the benefit of thinking about it, the audacity of it was unbelievable, even for him. “What an incredibly stupid thing to do.”

“Yeah, it was.” He was amused—pleased with himself and what he’d done. That had not been the reaction she was going for. “So was flying in after me without a co-pilot.”

He still hadn’t asked how she’d known he needed aid. The answer was understood and unsaid, like the bond that had brought her to his side. Like most things between them.

“I’ve done it before.” They were both alive, so she didn’t see why it mattered how stupid either of their actions had been. Neither of them had any room to criticize half-cocked plans. “Are we going to sit here trying to one-up the other’s stupidity in this?”

“We could.” He shifted in the seat, stretched his injured leg out as far as he could. “Or I could say that I’m happy you did come.”

“So am I.”

She dared to look at him, but he wasn’t paying her any mind. Instead his eyes were scanning the control console, settling on each panel or switch or button or lever, like he was accounting for them all. He was remembering. She felt it, and for an instant she was too. His gaze darted to fleetingly touch a spot above the viewport, empty, then down and back to focus on the numbing, repetitive view of space bleeding past. He looked simultaneously mystified and perfectly at ease.

What she said next felt risky, but it could make nothing worse. What was one more impulsive action after all that? And he looked so . . . right, sitting there. “But will this be the time you don't make me leave you behind afterward?”

Ben was quiet and thoughtful and no longer treating with such flippancy the fact of where they were and what they were doing. The ship droned on around them, vibrating almost imperceptibly as it raced onward.

“Stay the course and find out.”

[jp-omegaverse-hcs]

wow tumblr just deleted this whole damn post when it was a draft argh.

anyway, this is a project I’ve been working on the past few days (the reason I asked about the alpha senior/kouhai thing). I’ve been really into cnovels lately, so I decided to write an omegaverse fic in the xianxia genre (basically a fantasy/ancient China/magic genre) because the writing style is really relaxing.

I’m not posting it on ao3 yet because I’m not sure if I’m keeping this plot -.- (I rewrote this twice already but I really suck at making good plots so...).

Anyways, summary! I did end up going with alpha/alpha for this pairing, though you don’t meet the younger one until the second chapter...

Summary: Before Mu ZhiLin became an infamous cultivator of the demonic arts and one of the few alphas to bond with a spirit beast, he was a fugitive hiding behind the Feng Xuanya Sect’s reputation. ‘A fragile, timid alpha who spent his days cultivating with his spirit beast in isolation’ – no one would ever respect, let alone connect, him to the haughty alpha he was in the past.

All except for a certain junior brother who followed this ‘shy, sickly alpha’ with the persistence of a chick attached to a mother hen. Mu ZhiLin’s stressful days filled with blood, sweat, and tears began the moment that ‘chick’ started following his every move. Little did Mu ZhiLin know, this adorable boy would someday grow into a mate willing to blacken his own heart for him, climbing to the top for his completely unreliable senior brother…

Quick Glossary:

Cultivator: basically, magic martial artists who aim for immortality

Sect: an organization of cultivators

The brother and sister terms: all of the practitioners are treated as ‘family’ in speech terms, so they call each other brother and sister even though they aren’t related by blood. I could have kept it in Chinese, but that would have been really confusing to remember, so.

1, The Alpha of Yi Tuan Valley

Alphas were a minority in the Feng Xuanya Sect; they were said to be even rarer than phoenix feathers. The sect’s omegas clambered over each other to catch the favor of these alphas – or, rather, to gain the opportunity to dote upon them like a beloved child or pet. This strange reversal of roles was immediately clear when taking into account that nearly all of Feng Xuanya’s betas and omegas surpassed their alphas in cultivation, merits, and reputation in general. There was not even a single alpha elder compared to the councils full of the dominant dynamic in other sects.

The reason for this oddity was none other than the sect’s specialty, its enviable cultivation style that brought the Feng Xuanya Sect its prestige and power. Out of every major and minor sect in Xian Ning, Feng Xuanya was the only one with a cultivation style centered around spirit beasts.

Every sect sent teams out to hunt spirit beasts for precious materials, experience, and building a shining reputation in the eyes of normal civilians. Only the Feng Xuanya Sect could bond with those spirit beasts to bolster one’s cultivation and repertoire in battle. The thousands of years that the Feng Xuanya Sect dominated the Tian Xian region, infamous for its dangerous mountain range, was testament to the value of this skill.

However, only betas and omegas had any hopes of bonding with a spirit beast, next to none of which would tolerate or submit to an alpha’s dominance by throwing away their own pride. To call Feng Xuanya a paradise of untouchable omega beauties was not wrong, but a rather silly sort of joke. None could reach the sect without an invitation, because the mountains of the Tian Xian region were filled with a multitude of high-level spirit beasts. Even advanced cultivators would be eaten to bits if they dared to cross them.

Thus, the state of the Feng Xuanya Sect’s affairs was always a little muddled and filled with conjecture and rumors. Only major events like conferences and examinations reached the ears of the people. So, when interesting information managed to escape, however small, people paid rapt attention.

This year, there was one particular rumor that took the cultivation world by storm, drowning out all other gossip.

The rumor: a young alpha had managed to bond with a spirit beast.

It was an incredibly auspicious and magnificent spirit beast, too. The alpha was under the age of eighteen. He had joined the sect as a formal disciple but a mere four months ago, nearly half a year before the next recruitment examinations.

The waves of denial that roared through the cultivation world were truly impressive. Some accused the sect of lying to bolster their reputation. However silly it sounded, it was not any sillier than the idea of an alpha bonding with a spirit beast of any sort. Even the weakest spirit beasts would rather be crushed beneath a tyrannical foot than bond with an alpha!

Or so people thought.

Feng Xuanya was a large sect spread across a sizable area of the Tian Xian region’s most prominent mountain range. It was impossible to be fully aware of every little matter, but in a matter of a week or two, nearly everyone knew that the Yi Tuan Valley Master had accepted a new disciple out of season, and this disciple had an impressive spirit beast.

Spirit beasts, naturally, attracted the Feng Xuanya Sect’s disciples more than the people bonded to them. Who cared about the thirteenth disciple of such-and-such peak who was a beta, when the spirit beast was a magnificent ice-winged hawk?

This time, the news that an alpha was the bonded cultivator spread even faster than wildfire. Half of the people who heard it could not believe it at first, until Yi Tuan Valley’s eldest disciple finally confirmed their newest disciple’s dynamic.

However, this alpha was supposedly quite frail in health and temperament, perhaps the only reason a spirit beast would chose him. He never left Yi Tuan Valley and cultivated in isolation with his spirit beast. Hardly anyone outside of Yi Tuan Valley knew his name, only that he was the ‘youngest junior brother and nothing more.

Ah, this ‘youngest junior brother’ really wanted to cry bitter tears every time he heard from his eldest senior sister that yet another stranger sent their condolences.

“She said, ‘Quickly improve your cultivation so your health will be good enough to come meet everyone and show off your spirit beast!’ You are quite the popular one, aren’t you, youngest junior brother?”

Mu ZhiLin wanted to roar, ‘I’m not so ‘frail’ you have to keep sending gifts and condolences! I'm not dying, either!’

However, Mu ZhiLin could never express these thoughts.

He had to keep his head bowed, expression full of shy and awkward smiles no matter how much he wished to bite his own tongue off from the sheer humiliation. If he wanted to live, no one could recognize him. If there was even an inkling of doubt in someone’s mind, not even the sect master herself could save him. They had given him a safe place to live and cultivate, even a new identity, but the rest was up to him.

Life in the Feng Xuanya Sect was quiet. It provided its disciples the means, but there was little guidance unless one encountered a bottleneck lasting an unreasonable amount of time. A third of its members were omegas taught from birth to be dependent on others, so there was really not much else they could do to reverse those teachings other than to show them the reality of this harsh world.

It was the perfect environment for a fugitive like Mu ZhiLin, who kept to himself and his spirit beast as much as possible. He did have to make an appearance every now and again, but he really had no reason to complain. It was a small sacrifice in exchange for safety…

Oh, to hell with it. He had every reason to complain.

The fact that he was currently drenched in yan du xian soup that had been boiling for hours and had yet to cool even a bit was his reason to complain. For a second, he forgot about the persona he had been half-heartedly building up for the last four months. The shaking of his shoulders was his attempt to restrain himself from grabbing that ladle and hitting the condescending guy laughing at him until he bled.

“Really, I’m so sorry. Don’t be mad at your senior brother, it was a genuine accident!”

He could hear the mirth in this ‘senior brother’s’ voice. No one in the room was fooled, but unfortunately, their eldest senior sister was not among them. If she was, he doubted that Linghu Qiu would so brazenly say such things as he half-heartedly tried to ‘wipe’ him down with a cloth.

Mu ZhiLin flinched as the cloth came at his face, landing with a particularly wet slap on his cheek. His skin tingled with little starbursts of pain here and there, nothing too bad at his level of cultivation, but he also smelled like salted pork now.

“Hey, don’t be so stiff, youngest junior brother! Didn’t senior brother Linghu say he was sorry? It’s not good to be this inflexible.”

Mu ZhiLin reached out to grab the cloth, turning away hastily so no one would be able to see the dark look in his eyes. Linghu Qiu wrapped his arm around Mu ZhiLin’s dry shoulders and smiled as he herded him away from the banquet hall. Although they were about the same age and cultivation level, ‘Mu ZhiLin’ was supposed to be a bit weaker. Not to mention, he was too timid to defend himself from his senior brothers even if he knew he was being bullied.

This was the perfect cover identity, but it was perhaps a little tooperfect.

“Come, come, I’ll bring you to the well. Don’t give me such a dark expression, you probably don’t even know where it is since you so rarely decide to grace us with your presence.” The sarcasm in his voice was thick, irritating Mu ZhiLin to no end. He bit his tongue viciously to stop himself from shoving this clingy, malicious beta away and stalk off to change by himself.

Linghu Qiu was not taller than him, but a height difference would never deter him. He carried himself with the bearing of a young master, similar to Mu ZhiLin in the past. As a beta, his scent was neutral and flat like the earth, but his attitude was almost identical to an alpha’s.

Mu ZhiLin dug his heels in before they reached the well, a jolt of unease striking him in the chest.

“Thank you for showing me the way, senior brother Linghu,” Mu ZhiLin said, careful to sound appropriately soft-spoken and reluctant to speak. He maneuvered out of Linghu Qiu’s grasp and walked over to the other side of the well to draw water up. When he saw that his senior brother had yet to leave, standing there with an unreadable expression, Mu ZhiLin paused. “I’ll be fine. I know it was an accident, you can go back now.”

Even if he was playing a part, Mu ZhiLin could only take so much of this ridiculous behavior. Sure, he played tricks on his junior brothers and sisters in his old sect. He even made them so angry that they ran off in tears sometimes, but he never meant to be malicious and never went out of his way to make their lives miserable. He was still an alpha, so being talked down to, lied to, and expected to be grateful was just behind his capabilities.

Linghu Qiu hid his sneer very well. He was the second son of a prestigious cultivator family and could not hold a candle to his older alpha sister, but he was far from incompetent in cultivation or putting on a good show. If not for his bullying, Mu ZhiLin might have even asked for some pointers or sparred with him.

“Don’t be so stubborn! It’s my duty as your senior brother to help you and this was my mistake to begin with, here.” Mu ZhiLin backed away, but Linghu Qiu caught his sleeve.

He had a bad feeling about this.

“No, really, it’s okay–”

He tripped.

No, hewastripped. By Linghu Qiu. He felt the pressure at the back of his knee, and before he knew it, he was on the ground. One arm was suspended by Linghu Qiu’s grip on his sleeve. The other had been unable to swing out to catch himself in time since that grip threw his balance off.

“Oh! Are you alright? You’re so clumsy, junior brother Mu.” Linghu Qiu laughed, releasing his sleeve only to try to ‘help’ him up.

Mu ZhiLin bit down a growl and scrambled to his feet, using some of his naturally superior strength as an alpha to shove past the beta in his way. Before he could hear the next words out of his lips, he broke into a run.

Not bothering to put any spiritual energy into it, Mu ZhiLin ran at a leisurely pace once he was certain that Linghu Qiu had given up and returned to the banquet hall.

Although he was certain that this matter would give him headaches in the future, at the moment he could care less about it. He was wet, cold, covered in dirt, and two seconds from punching his senior brother in the face back there.

By the time he reached the end of the valley, past the houses and fields growing spirit plants, the training halls and their master’s small personal library, his temper had cooled off in the chilly winter air. If he returned after changing his clothes, he could still avert some of his future troubles. He truly did not want to give Linghu Qiu another reason to hate his existence.

With that plan in mind, he slipped into the woodshed and immediately peeled his clothes off. Staring in disgust at the wet fabric, he realized that he would still smell of salted pork if he only swapped out his clothes. Mu ZhiLin groaned and grabbed a spare set of casual clothes before leaving, dressed only in his underclothes, for the river.

The river was more a stream than a proper river. It cut through the forest behind the fields in a simple, slightly curving line from the mountains and winded through to the lake in the neighboring peak’s territory.

Mu ZhiLin hurried to the bank of the stream, more than accustomed to finding his way in the dark. He first washed his outer garments, vigorously scrubbing until he was sure the smell and spices were gone. This was something he did normally, but normally, he was never filled with such resentment while doing it. A low growl issued from his throat as he lifted the clothes out of the water and did his best to examine them under the moonlight.

He tossed them across a large boulder nearby when he was satisfied. Before he had a chance to take his underclothes off, a shiver crawled down his spine.

Something was wrong. Mu ZhiLin stopped with his hands frozen over the belt at his waist. He reached out with his senses. At his level of cultivation, most of his senses were better than the average human’s. However, he heard, saw, and smelled nothing unusual.

No, this was a different sort of instinct.

He was currently unarmed. The only tools at his disposal were basic cultivation arts that did not require a weapon and thoseskills he learned months ago. He flexed his fingers. He had never tried them out in combat, so his success rate would be uncomfortably low. But if it was something his senses were unable to detect, it was unwise to run.

There was only one warning. A shift in the wind, a soft whistle, before Mu ZhiLin was dodging the massive form that burst out of the shadows of the trees.

He skidded to a halt, eyes wide and straining to make out the creature in front of him with curses running wild in his mind.

This was a troublesome spirit beast, easily a whole head or two taller than even the tallest alpha. Its fluffy appearance was deceiving, but it was a fierce guardian of mountainsides filled with high concentrations of spiritual energy. It moved in an eerie, swinging manner, as if swaying to the beat of a lively tune. It was far from fast, but those legs could take it as high as the treetops to catch its prey.

Mu ZhiLin let out a warning growl that felt and sounded fiercer than he felt. This was a high-level spirit beast with a surprisingly tough hide. Even if he had his sword, it was only a temporary one made from unremarkable metal and not something he could cut this creature’s skin with even if he had it in hand. Coating it in spiritual energy imbued with his element would do little, considering this beast’s base element overcame his own.

Mu ZhiLin had no choice but to trick it. He started running to the right, heart pounding wildly in his chest as the spirit beast bounded after him. The heavy form grew closer, closer – then Mu ZhiLin made a sharp turn, running directly behind it. As he ran, he tried to prepare the demonic art skill he had learned.

‘Cursed Blood of the Beloved’ – it had a truly cringe-worthy name, courtesy of that oddball who developed it on a distant mountaintop with all the righteous rage of a scorned lover. However, it was somewhat useful, if self-destructive. Mu ZhiLin could prepare the incantation quickly enough, but he hesitated before getting close enough to spill some of his blood on the creature.

The horned mountain lion was a spirit beast that craved pure spiritual energy. This mountain range was already saturated in it, but like all spirit beasts, it occasionally desired real meat and blood as opposed to intangible spiritual energy. He had heard of its picky tendencies, which caused many disciples across Xian Ning grief.

“To the horned mountain lion, cultivators with plenty of spiritual energy and yang or yin energy are the tastiest treat. They won’t go after anyone in the lower stages of qi refining and run away from nascent soul cultivators. So, my dearest little disciples, please try your best and don’t be afraid of escaping when you need to!”

Human bait was indeed the best method of attracting these creatures.

Mu ZhiLin clutched his left wrist to his chest. This could either work or he might end up in the stomach of this beast by the end of the night. Excellent.

He could feel it closing in, to the point its hot breath traveled down his neck.

“Shit!” he cursed, scrambling over a boulder that allowed him to put enough distance between them to prepare. He didn’t even have a proper weapon and could only rely on his own spiritual energy to cut into his skin.

He was just about to do it when he heard a distinctly furious roar. The horned mountain lion shook its fluffy mane out and huffed, a wary look in its large eyes. That roar shook the leaves in the trees and made a flock of sleeping birds scatter into the night. Glancing over his shoulder with one eye still on the horned mountain lion, Mu ZhiLin’s heart nearly stopped.

A lithe form jumped out of the shadows, cloudlike wings spread to their full length, quivering menacingly as teeth flashed in the weak moonlight. A pair of glowing golden eyes narrowed at the horned mountain lion.

“Caixia!” Mu ZhiLin called out, still shocked down to his bones. Not even paying attention to him, Caixia ran past, nearly knocking him to his knees. Just a few strides brought it in front of the horned mountain lion, snarling up into its face fearlessly.

The horned mountain lion pawed the earth.

Caixia let out a sharp howl that turned into a fierce growl.

Two seconds later, the horned mountain lion backed away. It hadn’t smelled another of these winged creatures around. However, it wasn’t willing to take chances with this particular spirit beast.

Mu ZhiLin watched it leave. Caixia did not relax until quite a few minutes had passed.

“You…came to save me.” Mu ZhiLin’s lips felt numb. Caixia had turned around and settled into a proud sitting position in front of him, head poised like a stone lion statue. “You really came to save me. I thought you–”

Caixia huffed. Mu ZhiLin broke into a smile, shaking his head all of a sudden. He moved forward and gave Caixia a pet without fear. He had already established with that infuriating alpha from his old sect that Caixia would never actually hurt him on purpose. It did give him perverse satisfaction to know that Caixia preferred him over that pure-hearted, always smiling and forgiving in the same breath alpha.

“Thank you,” Mu ZhiLin said sincerely.

Caixia blinked, bright eyes flashing as a growl rumbled out. Mu ZhiLin turned around to see two people descending to the ground from their flying swords. Although it was dark, he recognized eldest senior sister Yao Xinyu immediately. Her tall bearing, while not exuding an alpha’s dominance, was more than enough to send over half of the disciples in Yi Tuan Valley scrambling to appease her.

“Youngest junior brother!” Yao XinYu’s call of alarm did not stop her from warily glancing around the area as she slowly moved towards them. Mu ZhiLin held a hand out to tell Caixia to back down. “Youngest junior brother, what happened? Are you alright?”

Looking himself over, he was quite the sorry sight. Yao XinYu’s concern drifted over, making him rather embarrassed.

“I’m fine, eldest senior sister,” Mu ZhiLin said, bowing his head a bit to hide the shame lurking in his eyes. He was still in his underclothes, and dirty ones at that! “The spirit beast already fled.”

A low warning growl came from his side. Mu ZhiLin looked over, perplexed. Yao XinYu had visited him many times and Caixia always glanced at her with a look of boredom. Even when she manhandled Mu ZhiLin into having dinner with the other disciples, Caixia didn’t lift a wing to save him.

Mu ZhiLin glanced over at the other person who had accompanied Yao XinYu.

“Senior brother Luo?”

Luo WenQing was their master’s third direct disciple and a person of very few words. Mu ZhiLin was an alpha, so he could hardly find a beta intimidating, but Luo WenQing seemed to frighten many of the omegas in the sect. At least, the ones who came over for various reasons steered extremely clear of him and scurried away when he glanced at them. Luo WenQing, unlike a lot of betas, never lusted after omegas either.

“I will take care of it,” Luo WenQing said without context. Yao XinYu’s expression had darkened, her thin fingers gripping Mu ZhiLin’s shoulders rather tightly as she nodded. Luo WenQing headed in the direction opposite the forest – back to the valley proper.

“You really are alright?” Yao XinYu asked.

Mu ZhiLin nodded. “Where is senior brother going?”

Yao XinYu scoffed bitterly. She started to guide him back, her touch firm but not sinister like Linghu Qiu’s earlier. Caixia snorted, then retreated into the forest. Unlike Mu ZhiLin, Caixia was perfectly safe going in there.

“Junior sister Shi told us what happened earlier. Although I can do nothing about childish pranks, it’s unacceptable for a disciple to put another’s life in danger. Junior brother Luo is going to discipline him.”

“My life wasn’t in danger,” Mu ZhiLin said softly.

“You’re ‘only’ in the middle stages of qi refining,” Yao XinYu said with a pointed glare.

Of course, this was far from the truth. He had nearly reached the end of the qi refining stage and just about ready to break through to the formation foundation stage. They purposefully downplayed his abilities for his cover.

“Even if your life was not in danger,” Yao XinYu added in concession, “junior brother Linghu does not know that. He should have gone after you immediately, no matter his personal grudge against you. After all, with his experience he well knows that some spirit beasts prey on our weakened barrier and lone cultivators attract them in particular.”

Mu ZhiLin nodded. There was no winning against Yao XinYu. In addition, if not for Caixia, even his true strength would not have lasted against the horned mountain lion unless he used that demonic arts skill.

He shivered, body rapidly cooling now that his life was no longer in danger.

Yao XinYu cast him a gaze of pity.

“Why don’t you use the baths at the main compound this time? It won’t be good if you catch a cold right before the new year.”

One year passed easily and quietly.

The Feng Xuanya Sect was nowhere near his childhood home or previous sect. Combine that with Feng Xuanya’s isolationist ways and Mu ZhiLin never did end up hearing a single rumor about the talented Qiong Yuan Sect disciple who tragically lost his life on a training excursion. It was news that surely traveled all throughout the east: the precious alpha heir of the Liang clan gone in an instant – there was no one to blame and no one to cry to but the Heavens.

Hidden deep within the Feng Xuanya Sect’s mountains, Mu ZhiLin could almost forget his real surname was Liang entirely.

But perhaps because his mind was not truly at peace, he actually made next to no advancement in his cultivation despite meditating every single day. He became the laughingstock of Yi Tuan Valley, regarded as a dog that knew only one trick.

“Dong-shifu must have only taken you in because of that spirit beast of yours. How generous of her!”

“The sect’s omegas study diligently despite the disadvantages they have in life and truly make contributions, while you idle around with your spirit beast all day long. Are you not ashamed to call yourself an alpha?”

‘You have no idea,’ he cried bitterly in his heart several times while trying to ignore them. ‘You think I want this reputation?’

He thought they might tire of it after a year, but he seriously underestimated just how bored the disciples of Yi Tuan Valley were. Training, gossip, and bullying Mu ZhiLin were the only things they had to entertain themselves.

Thankfully, this year’s recruitment examinations were exciting enough to distract them. Gossip spread across the entire Feng Xuanya Sect from the lowest valley to the peaks of the surroundings mountains. Several hopeful prospects were entering the running for the Feng Xuanya Sect; new omegas and betas whose talents might be wasted elsewhere were always welcomed news.

As the youngest disciple, Mu ZhiLin had nothing to do with those exams. He spent the entire two weeks cultivating with Caixia, who had been rather restless as of late.

When everyone returned with a new disciple, Mu ZhiLin was less than pleased. His bottleneck showed no signs of relenting due to his half-hearted training in this past year. Caixia bit him yesterday on a whim, then darted into the forest and refused to answer his calls. And since his spirit beast was being unruly, Linghu Qiu decided it was best to load nearly all of the chores onto his shoulders to stay productive.

Thus, when their master returned with a new alpha – an alpha! – disciple and everyone turned their attention to the bright young boy, Mu ZhiLin took the opportunity to disappear.

At last, there were two alphas in Yi Tuan Valley. Now, hopefully, he could cultivate in peace while everyone fawned over the newest arrival.

[voltagefangirl19]

Valentine’s day- Kbtbb Highschool AU

Here’s a really late valentines day headcannon!! I hope you had an awesome and lovely valentine’s; this is a little something I have been writing since the 13th, it’s a little hs au in honor of tresspademaid who left tumblr a long time ago, but I still miss her unu, anyway, even if this hc is way too long (things were getting really wild), I hope you like it.  Shout out to @klugsterrrr for giving me her opinion and her kind words <3  Masterpost

Finally, the day had arrived, that one day that was known as the ultimate otome day: Valentine’s day. You got ready thinking that this year was your year, this year you were ready with your chocolates and you wouldn’t disguise them as friendship chocolates like last year, no, this year you were full with determination. While walking to school you kept thinking: ‘the target’ was one of the most popular guys in school, it didn’t matter that you were close, in fact, it made it harder to gave the chocolate in a romantic way, you sighed once more as you crossed the gates.

After P.E class in the third period, you went back to your locker to get your uniform, but instead of your clothes the first thing you saw was a little white envelope, full of curiosity you opened it and read it: it was a love letter, asking to see you after classes to hear your answer, your mind stopped working for a second. You read it twice but couldn’t find the sender, with that you had a boost of hope that died almost at the same instant, it couldn’t be from him, he wasn’t the type to do that sort of thing; that thought disappointed you, but still you were a little bit happy to receive a love letter for the first time, even if you had to turned that person down, since you had someone you liked already.

As soon as you entered your classroom you heard the girls fawning all over the las desks of the room, the ones that were occupied by Eisuke (the highschool king) Ichinomiya, Soryu (the popular and cold transfer student) Oh, Mitsunari (the womanizer) Baba, Ota (the popular upcoming artist) Kisaki, and Mamoru (the somehow popular) Kishi. ‘And then… Valentine’s day begins’ you thought, rolling your eyes; honestly, you didn’t know whether it was bad or good luck being in the same advanced class than those guys. 

You sat in your desk beside the window, one row in front of them, looking at the love letter you tried to think what to do with it when you felt a presence surrounding you, you looked up to the dreamy annoying vision of the school princes… no, your friends (you correct yourself) with their open hands pointing at you, you blank once.

“Hey, our chocolate” said king Eisuke. Understanding his order request, you took out the cupcakes you prepared for everyone, without noticing that the action left your special gift at sight.

“As expected from my beautiful lady, these are delicious” Baba said with his trademark wink, you smiled happily watching them eat every single piece 

“Well, not bad kid, I could have one more…” Mamoru made an attempt to take another chocolate cupcake when you block his hand

“No Mamoru” you scolded him with a pout 

“But  aren’t there more than enough for us?” Ota noticed with a slight pout

“Oh yeah, because they’re for Hikaru, Shuichi, Rhion, and Luke, I’m going to give them theirs after school during the student council meeting” you smiled, the guys hold their breaths for a moment, but before they could say anything else, the teacher arrived and everyone went to their right places. 

The day was normal, it was a little disappointing because you couldn’t find the right time to give him your chocolates and the only chance you had, was ruined. On another matter though, your friends teased you all day long about the mysterious love letter until it was the moment to find out who your secret admirer was. 

The guy in question was someone in an upper level than yourself, a senpai

“I’m sorry, I would like to accept your feelings, but right now there’s someone who I like very much, even if it results in being imposible... I think it would be rude to you to date while I’m in love with someone else” you said honestly, the guy understood and ask you to at least be friends, if he was expeting something else after a while remained unknown to yourself, what you did notice was that after you ended the meeting and the club activities, he was there, the one you wanted to give your chocolate to… 

Eisuke: Valentine’s day… the most troublesome day of the year, the day when lots of girls who he didn’t even know gave him chocolate and declare their everlasting love for him, and he, as the top student and president of the student council, couldn’t reject them. 

“Ichinomiya-san! please have my chocolate!” 

“No! please have mine!” 

‘Come on, give me a break’ was what he was thinking when the girls surrounded him after class, he was getting more and more irritated by minute, and he wouldn’t be able to maintain his fake smile much longer until he saw her, _________ arrived from P.E class, she looked a little troubled, but that didn’t matter to him; Eisuke wanted to talk to her, ‘cause she was like a breath of fresh air, she was honest with what she wanted and hardworker, inteligent but modest at the same time, so different from all the girls who fawn all over them. He excused himself from his admirers, and noticed how the others did the same; all of them went to her place to ask for the chocolate that she always gave them ever since their meeting two years ago. 

But now... Now he was irritated, when he received the chocolate of the year (which was a delicious cupcake), he noticed inside ________’s backpack another box in a heart shape. The question that remained in his mind for the rest of the class was… Who was she going to give those chocolates to? 

And if that wasn’t enough to make him upset, during recess he had heard her friends talking about some love letter she had received? Who in hell would be so stupid to sent her a love letter? Didn’t they know that she belonged to their inner circle? That she belonged to him? Didn’t she know?

“_______, come with me” he said before dragging her to the roof, she looked confused about his actions “What are you going to do?”

“With… what?” her doubtful expression was adorable, almost enough to make Eisuke irritation fade away, almost

“That admirer of yours, what are you going to do? You are going to reject him right?” her expression went blank for a minute, then she blushed.

“How..?! How do you know?!” she asked panicking 

“That doesn’t matter” He answered, honestly that was what worried her? “You have to reject him” her panic stopped and she looked at him serious

“Why?” she asked in exchange, now it was time for Eisuke to be perplexed, ‘what you mean ‘why’ idiot?’ 

“Isn’t it obvious? You are ours, just think about it, if you have a boyfriend now you won’t be able to spent time in the council room and help us” he said nonchalantly with his arms crossed  ‘You won’t be able to spend time with me’ it was what he really wanted to say but, for some reason, the words didn’t come out that way; he saw her frown, which took him by surprise 

“So that’s what it was…” she whispered and then said in a slightly cold voice “Thanks for your concern Eisuke, but I’ll handle it” and with that, she left. 

In his eyes, she understood the situation, but in his heart, he felt a little bit uneasy. He didn’t talk to her again until after school. 

He was waiting at the school gate, _______ looked really surprised seeing him there. 

“Eisuke! did you have club activities?” she showed him a happy expression, that almost made him blush

“No…. did you rejected him?” he went straight to the point

“Huh?”

“That guy that sent you the love letter, did you properly rejected him?” ‘the king’ asked a bit more irritated 

“What if I didn’t?” she asked, a frown forming between her beautiful eyebrows

“I told you before, you are mine…”

“Your what? your friend? your servant? your pet? you know that it won’t change if I had a boyfriend, someone who’ld care about me!” she snapped, it was the first time Ichinomiya saw her like that

“I…!” Eisuke start saying, ‘I care about you’ he thought, but did he really? or was he just feeling threated of not having her attention anymore?, did he really liked her that way for starters? She took something out of her bag and gave it to him, it was the heart-shaped box.

“Here, I made them for you, I don’t know what was I expecting though” _______ made a pause and look right into his eyes “Look… the thing is… I really like you, but that doesn’t mean I’m yours, nor gives you the right to be such a jerk” she said and then start walking away; Eisuke was right about something… Valentine’s day sure was troublesome.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Soryu: For the young mobster, Valentine’s day was just like any other day, in any case, it was a little more hectic cause all these girls in school tried to give him chocolate, but since he didn’t accept them it wasn’t that much of a change, he didn’t care about the students feelings and he didn’t try to be mean, but he couldn’t take any weird, homemade sweets cause they could be poisoned, that was the logic he had grown in the mob. 

The only chocolate he was willing to accept was ________’s, among other reasons because she was someone he could trust, her cooking was delicious (as he had noticed in the lunches she always made for them ever since she learned that they could spend an entire day without eating) and because she didn’t smell... it was a really dumb reason but he really liked that she didn’t wear the amount of perfume than the other girls did, also she was nice, really nice, and it was because of that, that when she gave him a chocolate cupcake he felt something really warm in his heart but at the same time, when he saw the chocolates inside her bag and heard about the love letter that she had received he felt anxious.

“Soryu!” She called him in the hall, he turned around carrying a bunch of papers he had to take to the teacher's room “need help?” She asked with a sweet smile

“Not really, and even if I needed it, you wouldn’t be able to help, you are too tiny” he said teasing but with a kind smile, she pouted, yet she knew that those moments where Soryu teased her were as rare as Mamoru not sleeping in class, she laughed a little and Soryu had a rough time no to blush, she was cute “So you have an admirer now huh?” The moment he asked, she turned red

“H-h-how do you know?!”

“Your friends were making a fuss about it earlier” she looked down and he thought he had made her uncomfortable “Are you going to tell him yes?” He asked without meaning the hope in his tone, she didn’t answer and they remain silent for a moment

“Soryu... I...”

“Hello there, is that the homework from class 2-B?” Her sentence was cut short by the teacher who just stepped out of the room, Soryu gave him the papers and turn around to __________

“Hey, I’m sorry, it’s not really my business, I’m going to stop by the bathroom, so I’ll see you in class” he said and walked away, he needed to calm down.

He felt bad, he didn’t exactly know why but he felt anxious, if she had made him feel that way, then why the hell was he waiting for her in the school gate?

‘Honestly, women are so troublesome’ he thought but when he saw __________ walking towards him with a little smile he felt a tingle in his stomach

“Soryu! What are you doing here?”

“It’s dangerous for a girl like yourself to walk alone at this hour” he said with his usual cold expression, she blushed and look down, then they start walking, her house wasn’t that far away from school, ‘Now that I think about it, we really don’t know where she lives’; they were almost there when she broke the silence

“I reject him” Soryu raised an eyebrow “The senpai that sent me the love letter”

“Why?” She raised her elbows

“I guess I already have someone I like” she said in a quiet voice, Soryu felt anxious once more “Ah this is where I live, thank you for walking with me” she made a pause and he was about to go his own way when she stopped him “Soryu!” When he turned around the heart-shaped box he saw earlier was in front of him “This is for you! H-homemade chocolate j-just for you, it’s not like the others! T-this is special for Soryu only!” She stuttered and was almost yelling due to her nerves, the young mobster took the box without noticing the kind smile that formed on his lips

“Thanks, I’ll eat them” ________ blushed deeply and run inside her house, screaming ‘see you tomorrow’, his smile persisted and he felt his face growing hot, maybe, just maybe, Valentine’s day was a good date after all.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Ota: To the upcoming artist, Valentine’s day was... just another way to gain money, he used to go to crowded parks to draw couples and then sell the sketch at a fair price, sure it wasn’t much but at least those were the first steps to support his artist career, anything other than that is meaningless to him; even if he did accept the other girls chocolates, he ended tossing them or selling them, he didn’t care about them, with only one exception…

“Ah I wanted one more cupcake” Ota grumpily whispered to himself, of course, anything that _______ did was delicious, from the cookies and tea she made for the student council meetings to the lunches she prepared for them, and even though the friendship chocolate she made for all of them was sweet, tasty and overall great, it wasn’t what he really wanted; in all honesty, the heart shaped box in her bag looked more appealing, he had to admit that he pouted when she said the others were for hikaru and the others, why was she even considering those jerks and the weirdo? Ota grumbles 

He wanted her food just for him... not because he had deep feelings for her or anything, her cooking was just really good and he thought it was a waste to give it to tasteless people like the other guys... Of course, deep down he knew he was just making excuses, if not, what was the reason why he wanted to draw her at every opportunity? (like he was doing right now), why did he wanted to see her every day? Why did she seem like the other only special person besides him in that school? He liked her, even if he didn’t want to admit it, that’s why he had gotten so mad the moment he heard she had received a love letter.

During recess, after he heard the girls teasing ______ because of that stupid confession letter, Ota felt like he needed to do something other than glaring at her, his mind was full of useless thoughts ‘what if the guy she wants to give the chocolate and her admirer is the same person?’ ‘what if she gets a boyfriend?’ ‘what if she stops paying attention to me?’ Ota’s mind was a chaos, he wasn’t usually like this so why...?

“Otaaa!” he heard a familiar voice that made him stop in the middle of the hallway “hey, may I speak to you for a moment?” she smiled a little shy

“What can I do for you?” unintentionally, that sounded colder than expected and he could see that she noticed it since she flinched a little 

“W-well, you see how it’s Valentine’s day and I...” 

“Oh yeah, I heard about you admirer _____, but if you wanted me to draw a picture of you two together you’ll have to wait until next time, I’m pretty busy right now” he said not wanting to hear her request, she looked taken back ‘You should see your face right now, is like a scolded little puppy’ he thought a little happy, but then he felt a pang in his heart, ‘Ahh but you already have a master don’t you?’ “Well, that being said, I have to get some materials from the art club so, see you later” he waved his hand as he walked as fast as he could without losing composure, while she just stayed there with her chocolates behind her back, asking herself what the fuck did just happen?

After school Ota stayed beside the gate, he really didn’t want to see her with her new boyfriend, but he felt like he owned her an apology for acting so weird earlier ‘it’s because of that, not because I really want to see her again’ ahh he was making excuses again. He was surprised seeing her alone, he knew he probably wouldn’t like the answer, but he teased her anyway

“Hey ______ where’s your new boyfriend?” she lifted her face upon being called and it seemed like her face lighted up for a minute, then she puffed her cheeks in a very adorable way

“I don’t have a boyfriend, I don’t know where you get such ideas Ota” his breath stopped for a moment 

“Yet a little bird told me you received a love letter today” her face turned slightly pink

“That’s true, but I rejected him”

“Huh?” that took the young artist by surprise, she blush even deeper and took a box out of her bag 

“B-but if you want to know who I like so badly, t-then take this!” Ota took the package, it was the same heart-shaped box from before “Y-you don’t have to answer right away o-okay? t-this doesn’t compromise you on anything b-but I hope you like it” she said as she turned into a human’s side bright lobster “A-anyway, see you tomorrow”

________ started running, leaving Ota dumbfounded, he opened the lid and inside the box, above the chocolates was a note that said: I love you Ota Kisaki, the artist as well, turned as red as a rose.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Baba: This was, without a doubt, Baba’s favorite date of the year, why? it was obvious, cute girls gave him chocolates revealing their passionate yet innocent feelings for him and he accepted them all, and of course, his special lady, ________ gave him a sample of her love by giving him something as well, even if it was merely friendship chocolate, he was really looking forward to received it, after all, he liked all the girls the same, but _______ was something else, he couldn’t get enough of her embarassing face when he teased her, or her cute expressions whenever someone in their inner friends group did something unexpected or her food, or her kindness, or- ahem, and besides her cute appearance, he really admired how she had started being in an average group but worked hard until she was transfered to their advanced class, that one class that not everyone that aspired to could get in, yet she did, and Baba loved to see her hardworking demanor every day, even more, lately he had surprised himself thinking about her a lot during the day and even sometimes at night, could he be...? no, that couldn’t be, she was a nice girl and he had done some things he wasn’t really proud of, so he had to keep his distance to prevent the feelings from growing stronger... or so he thought, yet after hearing about the love letter and seeing the chocolates in her bag, his determination wasn’t as strong as the anxiety he started to feel.

“__________, do you have a moment?” he had been thinking about the situation until he couldn’t take it anymore, he wanted to know about the love letter and the chocolates, if she liked someone else he would leave her alone, but if he had the tiniest hope then....

“What’s up Baba?” she asked while stepping outside the classroom with a cute smile on her face ‘god she is adorable’ that was what he thought

“I heard some girls earlier talking about....”

“Micchan!”

“Mitsu-kun!”

“Mitsunari-sempai!!!” a horde of squealing girls arrived and interrupted Baba’s question, _____ looked surprised but then she gave him an understanding look

“Well, better attend to your fans Baba” she said with an optimistic tone of voice, but he could saw a twinge of disappointment in her eyes, he felt it as well, those girls had really bad timing, but he couldn’t really do something about it, he didn’t wanted to be rude or mean to his schoolmates

“Sorry _______, I guess we can keep this conversation later” he looked apologetic, unfortunately for him, he couldn’t talk to her until after the classes were over.

Baba sighed for the fourth time, the whole day he wanted to talk to her, to... do something even if he wasn’t sure what, maybe to stop her from talking to the other guy? to ask her to who she was going to give her chocolates? to express the warm and fuzzy feeling he had every time he saw her?

“Baba! what are you still doing here?” she asked pulling him out of his thoughts

“Ahh, hello again pretty lady” fuck, he didn’t know what to tell her, should he continue the conversation of earlier or...? “I just wanted to make sure the princess got to her house safe and sound” she giggled, her laugh was beautiful as well

“You always talk like that Baba”

“ah but I really mean it, especially when it’s you”

“w-what?” she blushed and he realized what he had said, he couldn’t just keep his mouth shut now, could he?

“N-nothing, should we go?” As they were walking they conversed about silly things, things that Baba was trying to use as an excuse for not talking about the topic that has been bothering him. When they were in front of her house she took something out of her bag, her cheeks were slightly pink

“here, I wanted to give you this before but... I guess this is better than never right?” Baba received the heart-shaped box that he saw before, his heart started pumping faster

“But... what about your admirer? The one who sent you the love letter?” 

“I rejected him, I can’t be with someone I don’t like” she said with an embarrassed expression, Baba blushed 

“That’s no good, pretty lady, you shouldn’t fall for guy like me” he said covering his flushed face, she gave him a look that he thought seemed sad 

“Well, nothing can do, see you tomorrow Baba” _______ answered before entering her home, while Mitsunari stayed outside like a stone, a part of him happy, a part of him worried, because that had been a confession right? Right?;;

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Mamoru: The first thought that went through Kishi’s head when he saw it was Valentine’s day was ‘what a pain’, he couldn’t understand how people liked that date, yeah, sure it was cool to receive chocolates, but then you had to pay them back in white day; also the female students could be such a hassle, it wasn’t as if many girls tried to give him chocolate, and say tried because he would answer with a simple “not interested” and refused them, some of them even cried when he turned down, which made the situation even more troublesome. 

But there was only one chocolate that he accepted: _______’s tomo-choco, why? because her food was delicious of course! not that he would accept that he really enjoyed the time he spent with her in their free time, or that he used to look forward to the times when they study together in the library, or that he liked those rare moments whenever he talked about being a cop, a detective and her eyes lighted up just to see him so excited like that, since that was the only thing that Mamoru was passionate about. No, of course, Kishi wouldn’t admit that he was feeling that way because only kids fall for things like that, and he was a grown up right? Then... why the hell was he still pouting during class about her not giving him another cupcake just to give them to those other jerks, the wannabe doctor, and the tea maniac? ‘I ain’t pouting’ he thought to himself, ‘that brat, she has more chocolate in her bag so why...?’ Mamoru felt awkward thinking about it, he couldn’t help wondering who she was going to gave those, and, to make things worse, he overheard during one of the recess that she had received a love letter, on Valentine’s day for Christ sake! ‘that kid must be all over the moon now’; and even if he didn’t admit it, Mamoru continued being pouty all morning.

During lunch break Kishi went to the cafeteria to get a portion of soba noodles, he didn’t realize that _______ was behind him until she spoke

“Hey, Mamo! wait! where are you going?“

“To grab somenthin’ to eat, ain’t obvious?” she puffed her cheeks with irritation ‘crap, she is adorable’ he found himself thinking and trying to suppress a blush

“I’m sure you are just going to eat soba! that’s not healthy Mamoru! I swear I take my eyes off you for one moment...”

“hmmm... maybe you should look at me always then” he said teasingly, not really thinking in the real meaning of his words, she blushed a little

“Then maybe I will” she still manage to rebuke. They arrived at the cafeteria and while he was looking out for an empty table, she clutched her hands over her present inside her sweater’s pocket “H-hey... M-mamo...”

“Kishi!!!” a young student ran towards them, it was a classmate from a regular class called Ayase, he, as Mamoru, wanted to be a detective, so they passed each other tips over the college entrance test that was just barely a couple years ahead “I just learned about a new question bank, what to see it with me?”

“yeah sure, sorry ______, see ya in class” he said waving goodbye, he really wanted to spend more time with her, but he had ambitions of his own and he knew that so did she, so he knew she would understand it, and he was right, the only thing she was worried about was his food habits.  

After school Kishi was waiting for her at the school gate ‘I just want to apologize for leaving her and not talkin’ to her all day after that’ he thought without being fully convinced, but he still wasn’t able to suppress the grin when he saw her walking towards him with a smile

“Mamoru! were you waiting for me? thank you!” he felt his face turn red

“ugh, shut up brat! anyway, you took your sweet ass time didn’tcha?” he hide his embarrassment flicking her forehead, they started walking down the street

“Ahh sorry, a sempai wanted to talk to me” Mamoru felt a sightly pain in his chest

“Ah right your admirer” 

“How did you know?!” he was going to answer but she beat him to the punch “well, it doesn’t really matter now though, I already turned him down” Kishi looked at her surprised

“Why?” 

“I didn’t like him” 

“So you have someone you like?” Mamo asked a little nervous, she only made an affirmative sound 

“So... did Ayase and you studied hard? 

“yeah... I didn’t even have time to grab my soba” he said in a depressed tone, she took a little box from her pocket and gave it to him, it had a heart shape

“W-well, since you missed lunch, you might as well eat this” she was blushing

“What are these?” honestly, he was just flustered by the form of the box, but if she was giving him those because her valentine didn’t accept then...

“Chocolates... for you” she said quietly, she stopped walking and he did the same “I made them thinking about you so please have them” if she was red now, he was a fricking lobster, ‘I’m being pathetic, c-come one, I have to say something, I ain’t a kid s-so I have to...’ but she beat him again “I-I have to go meet a friend so... s-see you tomorrow” Mamoru looked how she got close to him and then he felt a soft sensation on his cheek, she gave him a little peck and then started running in the opposite direction, Kishi just stood there, like a rock only conscious that the sun wasn’t the one thing warming him, it was the lingering touch on his face.    

Reference: every single his POV sub-story in kbtbb

[queerinette]

i never knew you were the someone waiting for me

Yo waddup, I’m Lib and I never fucking learned time management. 

Anyways, happy birthday to @ninoirs. Rey, you’re tiny, but you’ve officially left the legion of babies in the QML server and you will be missed. The only good news today is that you’re still tiny, so I can always fall back on that. 

You’re hella fun to chill with sometimes, and even more fun to salt with. Here’s to life treating you good as you continue muddling through it. 

I also posted this on AO3 because tumblr is shit and it’s easier to keep track on AO3. 

There’s a distinct memory in my mind of you that I never seem to let go.

I don’t remember if it was June or July or August, but it was summer. We laid in your room, just two teenagers attempting to stave off the heat with help of the cold ground. Your hair was spread along your head, and your hand trailed the air above you. I looked over at you, at the reflection of the sun in your eyes, and I realized, with a jolt that sent my heart running, that your eyes were blue.

It’s not that I hadn’t noticed them before; I had, it was impossible not to. But there was something suddenly alert in me, something that sent my heart racing and hands sweating from something other than the heat.

The skies danced in my vision, and you turned towards me with a laugh and a joke you’d remembered. There’d been a smile on my face as I watched you, and your hands fell onto your stomach. My hair stuck to the back of my neck, my shirt felt too tight, and sweat glided down my forehead, making me feel gross.

But you were with me, giggling, your fingers making contact with my nose before falling away.

And in that moment, Marinette, I fell in love with you.

You didn’t make it easy on me. Nothing really changed between us. We still linked arms and skipped down the stairs. Your hands still batted at my hair out of boredom, and our fingers still tapped together in a conversation even we couldn’t understand.

But suddenly you were there. It felt harder to breathe around you, like any moment you’d notice that my breathing had hitched. Your clothes would hang off you so well, giving you this air of someone ethereal, that just the thought of inhaling oxygen through my lungs felt like a crime, like I was stealing something precious that belonged to you.

There was a naivety in me when I thought distance would help. Do you remember the week I avoided you? I spent the entire week rewriting the same article for the Ladyblog over and over again. Food tasted like cardboard, homework would start waltzing in front of my eyes, sleep seemed like a far-off wish. I collapsed into you the first opportunity I got, and suddenly, everything seemed a little brighter.

That was when I knew my feelings went a lot deeper than I thought.

Of all the painful memories, the most painful would have to be the one where you went on a date with Chloe.

I remember the shock I’d felt at your admission, the jealousy that had blossomed out of my heart and caused me pain. It felt a little bit like you were choosing Chloe over me, which was ridiculous because you didn’t even know how I felt. Chloe’d had the courage to do what I didn’t: she’d come to you, looked you in the eye, and told you of the very feelings she’d kept guarded for so long.

But it oddly felt like a betrayal when I watched you get ready for your date. Chloe was the reason we were friends. Chloe was the girl who had years under her belt of irritating you and stealing your confidence. Chloe was the girl who had prompted me to move and interact with you.

You smiled and danced in your room, and I swallowed bile as I encouraged you to have a great night. When you parted with a hug, I stared out the window at the nervous tremble of Chloe’s breath as she waited for you, her smile wavering at the sight of you.

Something in me tore, and an incurable ache followed me for two weeks after.

You’ve always been so supportive of my dreams. It’s something about you I’ve always loved, how you lean in closer to listen to me ramble. It’s not even because your encouragement goes a long way to me. The sensation of your every exhale against my cheek makes me trip over my words, a description jumbling together as I continue to fumble.

You used to chalk it down to my excitement.

I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t break when you told me to go to New York. Logically, I knew you were only saying it in me best interest. The internship was something I couldn’t even imagine in my dreams, and passing it up would always have been my biggest regret.

But your constant insistence that I leave for New York felt like you were trying to get rid of me, as if I’d overstayed my welcome in your life and now it was time for me to reside in someone else’s. My heart agonized over what I really meant to you, and even the blinding lights in the City of Dreams couldn’t take away the emptiness I felt.

I will never forget the relief that coursed me at my return, when you ran up to me in the airport and hugged me, your legs around my waist and your arms connecting the pieces of my heart once again.

I spent so long convincing myself you didn’t feel the same way for me as I did for you. It seemed like one of those far-off imaginations I’d conjure up in one of my desperate moments, an image of love and family and you that would never come to reality.

We were at Adrien and Nino’s wedding, their smiles radiant as they stared at each other like they finally had purpose. During the ceremony, you’d remarked that they were just like us, and I’d found myself at a loss for words, undaring to let myself have even an inkling of hope.

We’d danced with all our old classmates at the reception, but never each other. When someone suggested it, you remarked that we danced around our rooms anyway, and there was no point in doing that when there were other people to dance with. I locked the sting of hurt away and danced, my feet hurting and arms tiring.

I didn’t see you again until hours later, when I found myself heading out towards a gazebo I hadn’t noticed. You turned when you heard my footsteps, a soft smile I’d never seen. It stopped me in my tracks, the realization that I wasn’t familiar with all your expressions as I’d thought I was.

It’s my luck that the moon shone it all its glory that night. The breeze made your dress flutter, and in that moment you felt like the rippling waves. You extended your hand towards me as soft music from the reception filtered towards us, and there was a secretive tilt to your lips as you asked me to dance.

We swayed more than danced, but as my arms rested against your waist, I felt something unfamiliar to me. I’d held you in my arms many times, and your head had made me a pillow many before, but the curve of your head felt like you’d made my heartbeat your soundtrack.

The twinkle I saw in your eyes as you pulled away froze me, because I’d seen it before.

It was on Adrien’s face, hours before, as he stood across from Nino at the altar.

I can’t recall how the topic came up, but one Saturday, while we were hanging out, we started talking about weddings.

You described your perfect day with excruciating detail: the flower arrangements, the color scheme, the exact gait you’d use down the aisle. It sounded like you had a specific person in mind, and when I said that, the smile on your face had been so painful, I felt my heart start to crack.

The question reflected onto me so quickly. I remember staring at the ground, eyebrows furrowed in concentration before looking back at you and laughing because the wedding you’d described was so perfect, I intended to steal all your ideas if I got married first. You’d laughed along, the sound permeating my essence, and I didn’t notice the slightly hysterical tinge to it until days later.

It didn’t occur to me that maybe the reason your wedding plans sounded so perfect to me was because I was the person you had in mind.

This is the part that always seems to good to be true. I’d convinced myself all feelings I had for you were shoved deep down, into a crevice of my being I wouldn’t touch until I was on my deathbed.

But then my sister blabbed to you, her careless babble confessing that, long ago, I’d expressed the feelings I had for you.

The glint in your eyes as you refused to stare at me, the strained smile that refused to leave you all night left me with a nervous beat in my chest, breaths quickening and fingers tapping against anything they could. You follow me to my home, which hadn’t been the plan for the night at all.

Later I’d come to appreciate it all.

Your steps were quiet next to mine, our strides similar. I’d gotten so used to your presence by my side, and even our walking was in sync. We’d walked into my apartment and you’d stood in front of the door after it closed. It took me time to gather my courage before I could look at you, and it turns out you’d been gathering your courage too. Just for something different.

You’d crashed into me and kissed me, and my soul had healed, like the burden I’d carried for years had finally been lifted from me.

I’ll always remember how your hands had gripped me so tight, like I’d slip away if you let go for even a second. Tears made their way down your cheek and make their way to your lips and to mine, but you refused to break away, arms trembling. I could hear you whimpering, and it felt like you’d found a treasure that had evaded you for years.

We tried talking that night, but your mouth wouldn’t stay detached from mine long enough. You’d try to start a sentence and then give up, hands traveling to my hair and bringing me closer. I didn’t try to pull away, too weak to even think about it.

We were like two pieces of clay that had been molded together long ago, but only then had finally dried. We were something permanent now, and couldn’t be pulled away from each other without extreme difficulty.

Whenever you wear your big white coat, you laughingly tell me you look great in white. I don’t disagree, but I always think of a different garment in a different setting, with your promised  gait and the same soft look that I’d never even dreamed of being on the receiving end of.

[ruwithmeguys]

Just wondering whether you think that 5.20 etc was planned or something they decided to do because of fan reaction? Thanks!

(I’mguessing by your use of ‘etc’ that you’re referring to Olicity’s progression?)

Not a chance.Hell no. The reunion has been 100% set in stone since before they broke up. @louiseblue1 and @jbuffyangel have explained it so well in the past, much better than I’m about to.

HOW theydecided to do it, they figured out between May and August 2016, with a fewaddendum’s made by 5.05 was filmed. Whenthey knew the time they wanted them to reunite (as in, at the end of a season)? Roughly when they filmed 4.16. I knowthere are some people who disagree, but I know the truth.

Wantfacts first?

Bulletpoint answers coming up:

-  Thescript for 5.19 was written before 5.14 even aired – which means they’d figuredit out before the ruckus that episode 15 inspired.

-  They’ve known all season how much we dislike the LI’s: they still went ahead with them.

-  Before writing scripts for a season, they must first plan the season. Good novelists andfanfiction authors do the same for a story they know will last a while (I don’tand I suffer for it). They don’t have enough time to change things on the spot lateron or mess about with the plot because of their tight schedule, which is whythey write scripts for episodes that are roughly 4 episodes ahead of the onesbeing filmed. And then they have to make sure the episodes work with thenarrative flows of the season. Advanced prep.

-  When 5.05aired (an episode that was filmed before episode 1 aired), WM & MG bothadmitted that they wanted to explore Oliver and Felicity apart from each otherfor a bit FIRST. First. It impliesthat it isn’t forever. Just long enough for realisations to set in. And todrive the fandom insane.

-  Beforethe season started no one said they were over. Yet by season 2’s end andbefore season 3’s air date, WM was saying said that Oliver wouldn’t be getting backwith LL or Sara because their relationships were based on the past and wouldnever last. SA specifically said NO.

-  WM &MG have also said this season that there were a few stories they had left thatthey ONLY do if Oliver and Felicity weren’t together. It was the truth. Such asexplore them with other people and see those relationships fail for a fundamental reason. As well as delving into Felicity’schanges and Oliver’s sin. Hisdarkness. Facing himself. To findthemselves before they can find each other.

-  Thisseason was THE one where they could throw Olicity utterly through the blender as they explored other avenues. We didn’t have to like itbut it has been implied enough times for us to know that it’s because oncethese two idiots get together, it’ll stick. Even through bad times. With many seasons to come - like Stephen said - they could afford to slow down.

-  Dig askeda question in episode 1 regarding Olicity that has yet to be answered because like each seasonthere is something in the first episode that gets answered in the last. Ithasn’t always been a question. It’s a device used to show progression, whetherfor good or bad.

(Now thereare many themes and questions, I’m just picking one for each) Season 1: itdelves right into making us wonder who Oliver Queen is, what his mission is andwhy. Who he’s become. And what it might cost. It ends with a man who is asurvivor but not a hero, a man who tried and failed and the cost? Tommy.

Season 2:Can he be a hero in trying a different way? Answer: yes.

Season 3:It’s more of a choice than a question: The Arrow or Oliver Queen.

Season 4:Can Oliver and Felicity be together both romantically and professionally? DoesOliver have what it takes to be the light? Both answers are ‘not yet’. They’reboth under a schism.

Season 5:is Felicity going to be part of Oliver’s future and can Oliver overcome what’sbeen hurting him for so long? Yes and yes.

WithFelicity’s help.

It’s aquestion posed and meant to be answered by 5.23.

-  MG recently said in a tumblr answer that he andthe writers view Olicity as much morethan just a romance and that it wasa very good thing. And it is: itmeans not only will they pay attention to them as a couple, they’ll givecredence to the people they are. Who they’ve become. Felicity’s had more storythis year than Laurel did season 1. They’re exploring her personality, whereasLL got thrown a bunch of cases to try and fail at solving and got passed around2 men. In fact, in each season, Felicity’s story builds. THIS year, the showhas explored Oliver more than anyone else but it was always with the goal inmind of truly making him a legend: the GA. This show has always been about him.

I justmentioned Laurel and season 1…

Thisseason, in some ways, is like a fix-it. At least, it is for me. And I promise this ties into the question :)

In season1, Oliver tried to honour his father and did so by taking his book of names ofthe members and associates of Tempest and making it a list of marks to hunt,intimidate, coerce or kill. To try and make Starling better this way.

Evilbegets evil.

His mainlove interest was LL, who he’d betrayed; however, he spent the season trying – toa fashion – to find compatibility from a woman with the man he had become.

Helenawas the connective thread to his darker side searching for redemption.

Mckennawas his desire for some normalcy: an ordinary, functional but caringrelationship.

Laurelwas his need to heal the past; to go back in time and once again be the man heused to be, the one everyone missed, the man who hadn’t made a dumbass decisionthat ended in death, terror and loss.

A man whocouldn’t love Laurel because he wasno longer the man she fell in love with. That man died in the ocean.

(Toanyone who doesn’t like what I’ve just written, please re-watch episode 8:Oliver says this to a version of LL. An episode were he sees people he’s lostand feels guilt over loosing, the people he needs to leave behind becausethey’re haunting him. The people he couldn’t save because he wasn’t who theythought he was.)

A man who wasn’ta dutiful son. Or the amazing boyfriend who hadn’t slept around behind LL’sback. And hewasn’t Ollie. He’d never be Ollie again except to his sister. It takes 2seasons for him to figure that out.

Rightbefore the end of season 1, he gets the girl, aims to save the city anddeclares that - once he’s finished - maybe he won’t need to fight anymore.

By 1.23he’s lost his best friend, any last chance with LL by CHOICE not circumstance, this is important, he doesn’t save thecity and his mother is arrested.

What should have happened after season 1 –I’m going to focus particularly on LL – if a) Oliver wasn’t as damaged as we’vefound him out to be in season 5 and b) if KC as LL had worked, is this:

LL wouldhave found out Oliver’s secret at the end of season 1. After Tommy’s death they would have slept other but he still would have left.

Oliverand LL would have spent up to, roughly, episode 14 of S2 being apart until theycouldn’t take it anymore. Instead of sleeping with Sara, it would have beenLaurel.

They’d beon and off throughout until the end of S3.

Insteadof spending the whole of S2 being an addict and recovering: LL would have alsobeen using boxing or martial arts etc to try to kick her habit and vent some ofher anger and guilt at Tommy’s death. She would have become a definite target forSlade and there would have been more than one episode covering this. By the endof the season, Oliver would have started training her. Personally.

In itsplace, we got an LL who spent an entire season – this is going to sound superharsh - feeling sorry for herself and blaming everyone else but herself for herproblems. I know that sounds bad but, she drank and popped pills to take awayher pain because it was too much for her. THAT’S FINE. THAT’S UDNERSTANDABLE.

What isn’t fine, is making damn sure thatwhoever’s with her feels just as bad, if not worse, than she does.

Becauseshe doesn’t just feel guilty, she feels entitled to pass judgement. As if herpain gives her a free pass. It gives no one else on the show a free pass sothis isn’t a facet the audience can like.

The lasttime she does it is with Oliver: that argument in the hallway after she’s justhurt her father, mother, sister and ex all in one go. After she blamed Sara –like she did Oliver – for ‘ruining’ her life. For making every bad decision and every wrong turn shes made, the fault of someone else.

That’swhen a character being an addict loses sympathy. The addict part isn’t aproblem. It’s how the character affects the people around them. She improvesafterwards but, that mark stays with her.

Weaccepted Thea’s drinking and substance abuse, even if she irritated us, even if she was horribly immature with it; it wasunderstandable and acceptable. She was a teenager lashing out at the world. But they deliberately didn’t push too far withit. They did with LL. They being thewriters etc.

They makeher into a vigilante for her sister with some ‘I care about Oliver even though I disagree with everything he says andhave become a vigilante for SARA yet - when it suits me – also because Ollie’sone too and if he can do it - even though I disagree with everything he does –then so can I’ thrown in.

Season 5resembles this movement… but it twists it on its head and mends what wasbroken.

Oliverhas resorted back to killing criminals, to being very much the vigilante ofseason 1. He’s in love with Felicity but can’t be with her because he’s hurther terribly and there’s something fundamental that hasn’t mended. That hasn’tbeen fixed. Something in him.

Noticed the similarity with season 1?

He spendsthe season unconsciously working from the viewpoint that he is someone whoinfects others. Someone who killed his ownhappiness and didn’t save the people he cared for.

Tommy,his mother, his father, Laurel etc… Felicity’s presence by his side. She closedoff her heart to him and that’s his fault.

But hetries, like in season 1, to build something. He – at Felicity’s behest – buildsa bigger team. He tries to be the politician Star City deserves. He tries tomove on and date. He tries not to succumb to the monster he was the year beforehe returned home. He tries to atone and move forwards.

Professionallyhe mostly succeeds. Personally, he utterly fails.

Rory hasleft by choice. Evelyn betrayed them by choice. Curtis has destroyed hismarriage through choice.

Rene andDinah are flourishing.

As apolitician, he’s destroyed his legacy as the Arrow, even though he thought itthe right choice: it’s hurt him and he doesn’t know how to come back from that.

He killedBilly, thereby once again, hurting Felicity and reminding him again that it isn’tthe worst thing he’s done.

Hesettled for the first offer at a relationship that came along, from a woman whohe knew initially thought little of him because he needed to prove to someonelike that, that he wasn’t bad and could be better. And if he could convincesomeone like her – even as he lied and was subpar about them – then maybe, justmaybe he could be worthy of more. Worthy of Felicity.

He nowfeels he was an idiot to even try and once he saw that for what he was, once herealised why he’d tried in the first place he dumped Snoozan in the coldest breakup I’ve seen on TV in a long time.

He’s beenforced to see why he destabilises everything in his life. He’s fallen to hislowest ever point.

And likewith every season, Felicity will be the one to make him rise back up.

Unlike season1, Oliver and Felicity won’t have a quick 2-minute thing and then spend 3 episodesignoring each other like he and LL had between 21 and 23 S1. 

Olicity had episode 19 to air out the big problem between them. She thinks he doesn’t trust her and he has no idea how to tell her the truth because once he does he thinks he’ll lose her love forever. They’llhave 5.20 to circle back round to each other, to have Oliver explain why he’sbeen acting the way he’s been acting and have Felicity be openly vulnerable tohim. 5.22 it’s his b-day party and 5.23 they all end up on Lian Yu.

Not citywide attack, no loss of a best friend (Diggle), no loss of a love that’s hislife and his always and his future.

Perspectivewill be gained as will a new life. He’ll let go of the rope around his neck:his promise to his father. He’ll FINALLY step off the island. He’ll have thegirl who completes him to help him and him, her.

THEYCOULDN’T MASH THIS UP TOGETHER IN WEEKS OF PANIC OVER THE OUTCRY OF FANS.

They would never - EVER - give THIS much simply for fan-service. It’s far too much.

They aren’t that stupid. A waste of money, time and resources on pleasing some fans.

Ah, no.

Look, weknow fans have some power. We know that. They listen to what we like and ifenough people like something, they either look at it more closely or it’s given credence.

But itisn’t their motivation for action. And the CW guys, the directors, theproducers, Warner Br’s etc: they make calls that we don’t know about BEFORE fanreactions even occur. Before they we loved Felicity, THEY fell on love with herfirst and asked her to be brought on for more episodes.

By seeingthe scripts for season 2 and 3, we’ve had it confirmed that all the smallmoments between them over season 1 and 2 were created with an epic romance inmind. The break up has been coming since the beginning. Weall know LL was the original LI, until they watched the pilot before it airedand realised they couldn’t re-cast their female lead.

The breakup and the space between Oliver and Felicity has been deliberate and something they’vebeen planning for a long time. As is their reunion. As is Oliver’s rise toglory.

All ofthis, the romance, has all been about Oliver becoming the GA. It has NOTHING todo with fan reaction.

Take abrief look at season 4’s narrative cues first:

They’retogether, moving in with each other and getting married. All in 9 episodes.Wow. At the time I didn’t notice the speed but looking back at it, I’m superstunned I didn’t see the it until it was too late.

Theyrushed their progress to break themup. To give them lots of time to live differently without each other. I’ve already posted that I believe they’re aiming for 5 more seasons to reflect on the first 5. It had nothing to do with whetherwhoever makes the decisions likes Olicity or not; it was a piece of the story.They realised they were going to get more than 5 seasons – A LOT more.Revealing this secret child and having them work through that was probablygoing to happen all in one season. Until the glorious news of more seasons.

So, thenthey have that scene in 4.16 where Felicity says to Oliver that he would alwaysbe on that island and that, though she loves him and wants to be with him,he’ll always resort to being that person. To the man created in those 5 yearsaway. The kind of fiancé who would make the kind of choices that would leavethe ones he loves bereft, even if that wasn’t his intention. The man she loveswho could one day simply leave her, because of a choice he might make.

It’s aprogressive point: something for him to aim to beat. A wall to climb over. Andsome walls are really high and terrifying to scale.

They’re at a stale mate and a crossroads and to be honest, I understand why. As much as the patience they asked ofus is wearing very thin, I get why it took so long.

Theycouldn’t get back together in season 4 because Felicity was right: eventuallyhe’ll make a decision that will ruin them. And she needed to face her demons.Until he could understand himself, understand what lies at the root of hisdecisions, they were null.

AndOliver… well he’s the king at burying what hurts. It’s very characteristic ofhis character to take a full season to GET IT.

This isthe core of season 5. His evolution.Stepping past that and becoming the hero Felicity has seen in him since dayone.

And yethe hasn’t managed to do this without her. 

She’s a pinnacle piece of his puzzle.Their break up is at the root of what’s hurting him.

Most ofhis choices this season have ended in failure and/or pain. The things he’sdoing as the mayor, how he’s resorted to killing once again, then openlyrenouncing the GA without discussing it with his team, dating SW and thendumping her like she was nothing (she was and he knows it which is why hedoesn’t understand why he dated her: it was because he was lonely btw), they’vebeen based on an underlying principal that he is this bad person who destroysthe goodness around him. He went in search of something to prove that wrong… what he found was much worse. He found thetruth: or a partial truth.

Beingalone hasn’t helped him: it’s simply made him see what he was denying foryears. In a very real way, it is a sickness.

Buthonestly, he was never EVER going to understand himself fully, was never goingto see the missing pieces without Felicity Smoak.

I believe5.20 will be about this: about the revelation in 5.17 and Felicity showing himthat there might be a different way to see this.

The waythey’ve filmed the episode tells me they’ve put a good deal of thought andMEANING into it.

It’s sounding like theOlicity episode to end all other episodes: they’re in each scenetogether. It’s been made so that Felicity has to depend on him, something she’sbeen deliberately not doing all season. It will be brutally honest, gut wrenching and heart-warming MAYBE OTHER THINGS. 

Now,WITHOUT proof, why would they do allthat just to tide over a fan-base?

If thenarrative flow to Olicity and their reunion wasn’t obvious to some people it’sbecause they were either too close to the subject or too angry at their breakup. I get why. It was a crappy breakup and the length of time we’ve had to waitfor the pendulum to swing back around has been almost too much – but they couldnever get back together until Oliver is at his lowest, until he is at a place he can fully open like he’s never been before. 

All because of her, because she’s changing his world view of her and it is certainly not in any bad way. 

And indoing this - in confessing to the one person he’s most afraid to confess to -he’ll free himself of a burden AND have what is likely going to be an amazingresponse from the woman he loves. Something to give him hope: a different pointof view. Maybe it’s that simple. It’ll connect to their breakup. It ALL connects.

They’retying up 5 years of story in 5 episodes, but there will be a focus on hissecrets (William/his break up with Felicity) and his loose ends (the return ofsome major villains etc).

She’s beenthrough something now, and she sees him in a different light — and he also seesher in a different light. There’s a lot more mutual understanding, and eventhough I think it’s hard to top the mutual respect they already have for eachother, that goes up as well.” 

WM said this and do you seehow brilliant that is?

That they’re creating a couplewho no one can stand against, a couple who love, respect and admire each otherthe most out of everyone. A couple who understand each other enough that theirfuture encounters are bound to fascinate us.

Like someone once said, they’rethe DNA that make Arrow what it is. The essential make up now of the show.

Fan-service, they will neverbe. They were decided BEFORE we wanted them by Warner Bro’s, CW, the directorsetc.

(DID I GO ON, OR DID I GO ON? I DO APOLOGISE)

[artificialqueens]

Church of the Poison Mind Ch.2 (Trixya) - Dahlia

AN: Writing this was honestly like pulling teeth, I’ve forced it all out of me and it’s been as cathartic as it has been terrifying. I would not have made it through without the l i t e r a l s t e p m o m to my fic Lale!! Also the lovely Matilda, and Bromeoandjooliet!! Thank you everyone for all of the lovely feedback on the last chapter and don’t be afraid to drop a line by my Tumblr DahliasForKatya!!

Even from a young age, Trixie spent a good chunk of her time in the water. She couldn’t wait to get home from school and retreat to the bathroom; a towel draped over her shoulder. She’d draw her golden hair back in a high bun, and sit haphazardly at the bottom of a stalled shower. The water beat hard against her freckled back, until the cold tile settled into warmth beneath her skin. She’d sit until the water ran cold, and the pads of her fingers pruned. When the mere act of breathing became relentless, Trixie would find herself craving the stinging spray of scalding water across the surface of her body. There wasn’t a problem in the world a that hot shower couldn’t solve, or at least postpone. Sanctuary.

Trixie’s mother would often scold, “You’re running up the water bill!”

And of course, as with most things, a terrible guilt would run through her. She’d resign herself from that happy place and apologize, from there, she’d retreat to her small bedroom. Sitting for hours in a towel, contemplating going back in anyway. Things weren’t always like this, her room used to be sanctuary enough, her home, her mother’s touch; but now she felt distanced from herself, vague, like navigating life through a video game. Have you ever looked down at your own hands, and hardly recognized them? Trixie could feel the meaning of every word she spoke hitch on her lips, each consonant skipping on the beat of its own arrival. Words scattered, wandering across time, lost in the hollows of the space between her ears. She’d wander the halls of her school, a ghost in a shell, auto piloting her way from class to class. Mindless. That sour sting was all that could revive her, all that could bring her back down to land.

The sun peered in rich that morning, and Trixie was reminded of how much she hated wearing sunglasses. She hated the feeling of wearing sunglasses because they were too distracting; she didn’t like the weight on her face, on the bridge of her nose. She’d too often find herself staring at the rims, missing what lie right in front of her. She found the distortion of color irritating, like she was dreaming half of the day away. Lately, removing sunglasses felt no different than leaving them on.

Trixie’s mother used to make blueberry pancakes every sunday morning, but always mixed way too many blueberries into the batter. They were especially runny that morning, especially bitter. Trixie choked them down as she always did, with a warm smile to acknowledge her mother’s hard work. From her seat at the table, she peered around the stairway, willing her father to come down. Her eyes landed on her mother’s pursed lips, and she sunk down in her chair, too nauseas to eat. He hadn’t come home last night. Again.

—

Trixie’s stomach was churning quietly in anticipation of the day’s classes. She could hear Jinkx’s words still, flowing in and out of her mind. She carried those words with her throughout the day, to her first class, Acting and Stage Presence with Professor Del Rio. A heart of gold, but definitely not the kind of person you’d want to rub the wrong way. This rang true, mostly. She took comfort in the way Jinkx played a witty banter with their professor, she aspired to that confidence.

And then on to Vocal Studies with Professor Minj, where Jinkx had left her outside the door with a smile of warm wishes; She’s a real tough broad but her class can be a hoot if you play your cards right. Trixie worried then about how she’d find her next class without aid. She turned a small glance in the direction of a pale haired girl seated adjacent her own desk, a first year just like Trixie. She seemed friendly enough, quiet, with a smile of gleaming teeth and thin lips. Trixie thought maybe she’d introduce herself, but discarded the idea. Maybe, she’d come to Trixie a bit later on and they’d hit it off. Maybe she’d never even learn the girl’s name.

Trixie gathered her things at the end of class and began down the narrow hallway, headed toward the staircase. She assumed the two in room 203 meant the second floor, at least that’s what she had hoped. Trixie wasn’t keen on being late, but she had terrible navigation skills. This was part of the reason she frequently bummed rides off of Kim.

Trixie, so consumed with the prospect of getting lost, became lost, quickly. Suddenly, she was looping circles around the second floor, passing the same doors, full of the same people and their watching eyes. She couldn’t seem to leave her headspace; that class is crazy, absolutely bonkers, but arguably one of the best at this school! Quite brilliant, actually!  Trixie wondered how something could be crazy and brilliant all at once, how those two could marry and craft a science class.

As the clock struck lateness and rounded 2:30p.m., her lack of sleep was becoming more apparent. She found herself caught between reality and dreams. She could still feel that girl all around her, her mystery, red lipped beauty; could still picture her through the darkness, the way her lips parted and trembled against her own. There was some kind of magic there, in that space, some kind of beginning. The two of them melding in the night, like soft hands braiding underwater. Trixie ached then, there was also some kind of end.

Trixie wandered further down the corridor, passed doors 213 and 211. It was 2:45 now, and she was grateful to have found her way, but reeling. She pictured what the class would look like, students already seated and settled, having to apologize as she walked in. The feeling followed her like an omniscient pair of eyes, stalking her down the floor of the classroom, calling on her tardiness. 207 now, 205, she was getting close-

Lost in thought, Trixie’s forehead collided with the shoulder of someone rifling through papers outside of room 203. The jolt sent both of them to the linoleum, busied papers floating around them like ashes, sweeping to the ground. Trixie looked up, they locked eyes, and her heart plunged deep into the pit of her stomach. Her. It was her. All red lipped and slender. Mystery girl. Trixie’s face flushed, speechless. She could tell from the girl’s ghostly expression that they were both thinking the same thing. Memory overcame her, swelling in her temples.

—

Her teeth sink into my bottom lip, vicious and stinging. Her moans are like my symphony, beautifully poised as they glide over my lips, their melodies ringing in my mouth. She’s salty with sweat but delicious, and I can’t stop my tongue from trailing up the length of her chest. She pushes my head down where she wants me, needs me, and I tease the daylights out of her, plunging my teeth into the soft flesh of her inner thigh. And then I taste her, and she melts into my mouth, dripping down my chin. She’s stifling her moans now, reaching for my hands and placing them on her breasts. Every part of her is taut and lean, glorious and glowing. She’s too good for me, and she knows it. She feels fleeting, but for right now she’s mine to worship. Her curls are splayed across my pillow, and I’m hoping I can still smell her shampoo come morning. The skin of her thighs is soft against my cheeks, and I feel her legs tighten around me. Her body jerks, and releases, gentle sonatas careening from her lips. I let her music engulf me, consume me, fluid harmonies rising in my ear drums. Turn up the volume, drown out the silence. She pulls me back up to taste herself, and we’re at it again, electric,kinetic. My skin is on fire, her nails scrambling down my back, I’m praying she breaks skin.

—

The scratches down Trixie’s back lit up like a switchboard, fiery paths radiating down the surface of her skin, hot with anxiety. Her throat felt scorchingly dry, where the words hid from her tongue, shaking in a back corner. Their eyes met again as they scrambled to pick up papers, their faces stark, dumbstruck. She watched the other girl’s hands scattering; and in the light, she couldn’t have been much older than her, maybe a few years. Acid crept up her throat, Trixie wondered if her own skin still lay beneath the girl’s fingernails.

“I - uh, I’m so sorry,” Trixie gathered the remaining papers and rose to her feet, her palms slick with sweat and unease. The girl muttered something soft in reply, but Trixie couldn’t hear over the blood pounding in her ears. She felt the strings tighten, constricting around her. She wanted to say more, but didn’t know where to start. She was even more gorgeous in the light, and her clothes clung criminally to each contour of her body. She had to break eye contact, say something, do something. Anything but this. Both stood quietly, minds racing. Trixie’s eyes darted to the ground in self defense, but she was only more flustered by the sight of the girl’s pointed red pumps. Correction, she wasn’t a girl, she was anything but. Especially then, as Trixie couldn’t help but picture what lie beneath her clothes, she wanted desperately for the bruises.

They brought Trixie’s mind back to the color of her lips, bright against the cream of her complexion. And Trixie stood again, thinking about her lips, wondering what it would feel like to reach out and touch them; to stain her fingertips red, and carry a bit of this woman with her to class. Trixie pictured sitting a few rows down from her, stealing glances, borrowing a pen, unable to look away. She could never be so bold. She knew that the minute they stepped through the door, Trixie would never so much as look at her again.

Mystery girl cleared her throat, bringing Trixie back from her thoughts, and flashed a meager smile before turning for the door. Trixie, in reflex, held it out for her, secretly reveling the scent of her perfume as it lingered behind her; the same perfume that undoubtedly still clung to the fabric of her pillow cases.

The classroom was quite larger than the others she’d seen that day, with black industrial tables and stools in the place of desks. Various wires and tubes wound out of them, connecting tanks below to the burners that sat atop the surface. The walls were lined with large glass cabinets, containing beakers and other related paraphernalia; the amount of equipment seemed almost superfluous given the scant headcount of the room. There might’ve been twenty students at most, but no professor at the head of the class. As Trixie scanned the room, she was privily grateful the professor was later than she, but still, an apprehension simmered within her. Her eyes crossed the room in search of her mystery girl.

Much to Trixie’s surprise, mystery girl now stood at the head of the room, facing away to scribble something across the whiteboard. It read in messy, coiled cursive:

Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova

“Okay class! I’m sorry I’m late, I got caught up in the dumpsters out back. Very messy! Anyway, as you can see from the board I’ll be your professor for this term. And look, I know name seems daunting, so you can just call me Katya.”

[endoftheline72]

Untouchable Ch 7 - Repost for Tumblr

Caitriona looked at Tony, sitting there, begging her for another chance, an invisible cloak of guilt settling over her slender shoulders, its oppressive weight, pressing down the desire to leave, to change, to walk away, crushing the urge until it was nothing more than a passing thought.

She slowly took back her hand, resting it in her lap, “Alright,” Her voice was soft and tired, “We can try Tony. No promises, but we can try, I suppose.”  

“Thank you Babe.” Dark eyes studied her from behind his glasses, “You know we’re good together. You and I.” Tony tentatively smiled at her then leaned over and kissed her cheek, "We're in this together right?" Caitriona nodded, hardly even hearing his words, the sound nothing more than a low drone in her ears. He straightened, standing beside the bed, trying to appraise if the crisis had been averted or was still impending. He'd come to learn with Caitriona that it was always best to have it out with her, right there and then, rather than to let that intelligent mind of hers mull whatever it was over for long periods of time.  Particularly when you wanted her to see things your own way and even more so when your way didn't necessarily equate to the way things actually were. “Now," He decided that alcohol might help his cause, " How about a drink? I’d bring you dinner, but,  we probably won’t find much in this place for you to eat.”  She tried to focus on whatever it was he was saying, the smallest traces of his Scottish accent tinging the very edges, the sound once comforting, now irritating to her ears. Caitriona's eyes drifted closed a moment, wanting him to just stop talking, wanting to shut out the noise, craving the peace and quiet of the last few days. The quiet of the cabin. The quiet of Johnathon.

“Caitriona?” Tony’s voice was insistent and invaded her mental space, “Drink? Pain killer?”

She opened her eyes and shook her head, “No. I think I’m just going to go to bed and rest,” she nodded towards the door, “But you need dinner. I’ll be fine here.”

“I won’t be long.” Tony grabbed his coat, “That is, if I can find anything that is worth eating in this god forsaken place.” He turned his collar down and straightened his clothing, “I swear, it’s like civilization has regressed 50 years. Not sure how you survived it for three days.”  He reached for the door, “You sure you don’t want anything? Bottle of red wine might take the edge off? Help you relax? They don’t have your usual but they might have something drinkable if I search.”

She shook her head, “I’m sure. You go on.”

Tony watched her a moment, hoping he'd read it right. Hoping he'd done enough to make her commit this time. He thought he had, but with Caitriona, he could never really be certain. She wasn't an actress for nothing and she'd spent years practicing, refining the art of presenting a certain picture regardless of what was bubbling away under the surface. “I won’t be long then.” He gave her a half hearted smile then left, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

Relief.

Relief was the only real emotion she felt.

Relief that he’d finally left her alone.

She didn’t want to fight with him, really she didn’t. On top of everything else, he was right. She was as much to blame as he was in this whole mess. Giving it a second go seemed like the reasonable thing to do, seemed like the adult thing to do.

Seemed only fair.

Probably easier to do than to change anyway, her mind sounded wearily. So, she sighed, she would.

Try.  

She did owe him that at least. She didn’t enjoy hurting people and had no desire to inflict pain if she could possibly avoid it.

There.

She’d found at least one reason to stay with him.

He was after all her friend.

There was another reason.

He’d been dragged to event after event because of her work.

Another reason.

Sam Heughan and all that entailed.

Another reason.

The list in her mind grew, trying desperately to rationalise her own decision. Change had seemed so easy in the cabin, when it had just been her and her thoughts. Face to face, change seemed a good deal harder.

Her stomach grumbled and she laid a hand on it, smoothing the folds of her shirt. Maybe dinner wasn’t such a bad idea. Caitriona realised she hadn’t really eaten anything since very early this morning. She’d woken to find that her tall cabin mate had busied himself and gotten them breakfast to have before leaving. He’d cooked her two eggs with some type of beans and onions which, on the surface of it, sounded horrendous and looked even worse, but had, surprisingly, tasted absolutely divine. Caitriona gave a small chuckle, loud in the quiet room, recalling the discussion which had ensued. Her, trying to guess the ingredients and him refusing to give up his ‘culinary’ secrets. Later he'd confessed that the whole thing was simply an onion and a can of baked beans cooked in a pan together. Johnathon, she smiled at the thought of him. Introverted and quiet, and yet, companionable and comforting. A soothing presence without being overwhelming. She wondered where he was tonight and what he was doing.  Probably on his way to New York. He had no real reason to stay in town any longer than he had to. He could have continued to drive, through the night, if he wanted to. She knew he he'd said he had work commitments that he needed to get back to. Work but no family, no girlfriend, no partner, no one in particular.

Caitriona looked at the closed motel door.  Maybe she should have just stayed in the car with him. New York was as good as place as any to begin the commute back to the UK from. The small issue of her foot would have been the only sticking point. Nothing a few good injections of morphine couldn’t handle and the way she was feeling right now, a drug induced haze may well have been more than worth it. Her stomach growled louder this time, far more insistent than the first. Now, she was certain. She should have asked for dinner, but like a lot of things in her life at the moment, it was too late to think of that now. She had her chance and didn’t speak up before Tony had left.

She sighed and decided to get changed into something more comfortable and then settle down in bed with a bottle of water and the TV remote, wouldn’t be the first time in her life that she’d substituted water for food. Carefully and somewhat precariously balancing on the crutches, Caitriona hobbled over to the large, black bag Tony had brought with him. She unzipped it and flipped open the lid. It was filled to overflowing with the rest of her clothes from Seattle. In her haste to leave, she'd thrown a few things in a bag, frantic to just get away. Those were now at the bottom of the lake. This was the remainder. Caitriona scrummaged through the clothing, most of it formal and those that were casual were not really comfortable for sleep.

She pulled out a pair of jeans and a grey t-shirt, the best of a bad lot. Caitriona unfolded the jeans, skinny legged. “For fucks sake...” She shoved the offending items back into the case and held up the shirt. At best, it would come to the top of her thighs. It would have to do, she guessed. She closed the bag with a little more force than strictly necessary. It teetered on the edge of the rack and threatened to fall for moment. She couldn't have cared less if it did. What was one more thing to go wrong.  She was more than entirely frustrated with just about everything at this point. Caitriona let out a sigh then set her crutches to lean against the counter. At least getting undressed should be successful. Thankfully the skirt was relatively easy. A button and a zip and slight shimmy of her hips and it lay in a puddle around her feet. She grabbed the small shirt and bent to retrieve a bottle of cold water from the small fridge that served as the room’s mini bar. Tossing the bottle and the remote onto the bed, Caitriona turned and reached for the crutches. A crumpled brown paper bag, tucked under her makeup case catching her eye.

She let out a small breath and tugged it out, a smile already drifting across her features as she uncurled the rolled lip of the packet. Her eyes closed in absolute pleasure as her fingers reached inside, finding the soft material of a blue sweatshirt and grey oversized track pants.  The clothing Johnathon had given her, that she’d worn in the cabin. Caitriona hummed appreciatively and held them up to her face, breathing in the clean scent. In all the upheaval and fuss, she'd forgotten the clothes been taken from her at the hospital, exchanged for first a hospital gown and then a set of her own clothes. She threw the small shirt away, a broad smile on her face as she made for the bed. Shirts, bras and underwear rapidly joining the other useless apparel, tossed with satisfied rejection into the far corners of the bag rack, blissfully replaced by warm, soft comfort of the cabin clothing. Caitriona was just settling herself back on the bed when soft knock at the door sounded, “Caitriona?” The familiar voice of her older sister Deidra drifted through the door.

“Come in.” Caitriona voiced, watching as the door swung open, admitting the tall dark haired form of her sibling.

“Hey sis,” Deidra smiled, closing the door and taking a seat on the edge of the bed, “Nothing like a bit of excitement to spice up a weekend,” She leaned over and kissed her sister’s cheek, “Might want to brush up on those driving skills.”

“Ha Ha,” Caitriona retorted, “You’re one to talk after that episode with the roller door at that apartment complex.”

“Oh no,” She scoffed, waggling a finger back and forth, “That was not my doing, " She settled herself beside Caitriona, "That bloody remote went haywire. How was I to know the door would come down like that!”

“Several times from what I heard.”

“The car stalled, can’t help that.” Deidra chuckled in memory. A small silence fell between them, “So Caitriona..” She bumped her younger sister’s shoulder gently, “What's really been going on then?”

Caitriona twisted a small section of the oversize shirt around a finger, “What do you mean? I slid on a corner, hit a drift and the car ended up in a lake.”

“I know all that,” Deidra waved a hand dismissively, “What I don’t know, is why you weren’t on the plane like everyone else? Spontaneous road tripping is not really the first thing that comes to mind when I think about you.”

Caitriona shrugged, “I just needed a bit a space away from it all.” The fabric twisted tighter.

“I see.” Deidra commented, nodding slowly as if in deep thought, “Space away from it.” She paused, “It being?”

“The public, the production, Sam -”

“Tony?” Deidra supplied artfully.

Caitriona sighed, letting the fabric in her hands go, “Our relationship isn’t the source of ALL my problems. There are other things in life apart from that to complicate matters you know.”

“Oh please Caitriona,” Deidra swiveled around, crossing her legs at her ankles and leaning back against the headboard beside her sister, “You can’t tell me that after all this time you haven’t figured out ways and means of dodging the public and as for production, you love acting, love this job and this role right?” Caitriona nodded her agreeance, “You’re managing being the face of this show and all the carry on that comes with it yes?” Another nod, “So that just leaves, by your own list, Sam and Tony. And if it’s not Tony,” Deidra counted down on her fingers, “that leaves…” She nudged the shoulder closest to her again, “So what’s going on with him ?”

“Sam?”

“No.” She deadpanned sarcastically, “The other hot and handsome co-star that is wants to screw your brains out.”

“Nice.”

“Well it’s true.” Deidra defended, “Anyone with eyes can see that Caitriona. He’s made it so bloody blatantly obvious.”

“And you think I haven’t made if blatantly clear that I don’t want to go there?” Caitriona snapped back with more venom than she realised, “Kissing me isn’t going to change that.”

“Sam kissed you?” Deidra’s brows almost raised to hairline, eye going wide with surprise.

“In Seattle.”

“And?”

“And nothing,” Caitriona’s hands dropped to her thighs, “He kissed me. I left.”

“You left?”

“Yes, I left. I told you, I needed some air, some space.”

A knock sounded and they both turned towards the door. It issued inwards and Sarah, Caitriona’s younger sister, closed by age and closest in relationship stepped inside, “Who’s kissing who?” she queried, smiling at the mere prospect of romantic gossip, “How are you feeling by the way?” Sarah leaned over, kissed her sister’s cheek then sat down.

“Sam kissed Caitriona.” Deidra looked around Caitriona at Sarah, who had taken up her position on the opposite side of the bed, quickly and efficiently providing her sibling with all the necessary details,“In Seattle.”

“Sam kissed you?” Sarah settled back, thoroughly intrigued, “Please tell me you kissed him back?”

“No.” Caitriona let out a breathe of frustration, “I did not kiss him back.”

“Why not?” Both sisters asked at the same time.

Caitriona shook her head, dark brows knitting, “Apart from the fact that I am with Tony, something you two,” She waved a finger between the pair in question, “Seem to have conveniently forgotten.” Both sisters rolled their eyes in almost perfect unison as she continued, “I have a rule about not dating people at work. I had it when I was modelling and I’m sticking to now, because I’ve seen first hand the damage that can be done when a romantic relationship at work goes to hell. I can’t afford for that to happen to me, not now.  I need to have a solid working relationship with Sam to be able to do what this role needs.”

“Oh right, the rule..” Deidra nodded, “Rules are mean to be broken you know and Tony doesn’t count."

“Exactly, ignoring the Tony factor for the moment,” Sarah added, “Sam is good looking and seems like a great guy Caitriona, plus who's to say a relationship there would go to hell? Sometimes things do work out you know. If there was ever a time for breaking rules.”

“How can Tony not count? We are together. You two are actively encouraging me to cheat on him?” She shot them an outrageous look, “Really? Come on, both of you.”

“Okay, let me get this.” Sarah, nodded to Deidra, deciding she would be the one to grab this particular bull by the horns “First of all, dear sister, you may be with Tony, but you are not together. You have never been together and if you are going to sit there and argue that with me then we need to take you back to the hospital and have your head checked.”  She held up a hand, forestalling Caitriona’s protest, “Together, implies a relationship. A close, loving, intimate relationship. Generally one requiring the other to actually show some form of physical closeness at some point, or in your case, any point.” Sarah was on a roll and decided to keep going, buoyed by the knowing nods of agreement from her partner in crime sitting on the opposite side of Caitriona, “I can’t even remember the last time I saw you two kiss, hell, even hug with real feeling. At this point I’d even settle for a look between the two of you that suggested you might want actually be around each other for more than ten minutes. That is not a 'together' Caitriona." She emphasised together with her own brand of air quotes and a raised eyebrow, "I’m not sure what on earth it is to be honest. You can call it 'together' if you want to, but that is not actually being together and you know it. Hence, Tony factor is zero. If anything, we should mark him down in the other column, under reasons why you SHOULD go there with Sam.”

“Are you finished?”

“Not quite.” Sarah drew breathe, “Discounting the fact the man is about as interesting as watching paint dry. Honestly Caitriona, the last time we all went out to dinner, I kept wanting to poke my fork into his hand to make sure he was still alive. I would be able to accept this thing that you are claiming as together in some aspect if the vibes between you and Tony weren’t colder than a brass seat on the shady side of an iceberg. In fact, this thing, whatever it is, has now got you driving around the mountains to Bumfuck USA in the middle of winter rather than get on a plane with any of them.” Sarah held up a hand, “Yes, yes, you can spare me the malarkey about you needing time away, and the guff about you decides to go for a 'drive'. I’m calling bullshit right there.” Sarah turned and gripped her younger sister’s hand, ducking her head and forcing Caitriona to look at her, about to drive home the closing points of her argument, “We’re not encouraging you to cheat on anyone Caitriona, because we don’t think there is anyone to cheat on. Tell me we’re wrong if we are Caitriona. You tell us right now that you love Tony, that you’re in love with him, that you want him, that he makes you happy and there is no one else you’d rather be with and you won’t hear another bad word, utterance or comment about it from any of us.”

Caitriona’s eyes searched her sister’s, flicking back and forth, knowing she should defend him, defend them, but at the same time, feeling powerless against the truth, hanging right there in the air. “Tony is,” She hesitated, knowing the truth was written on her face, “Tony is here.” It was non-committal and sounded empty, but it was what it was and all she had to give at the moment, “He’s here and Sam isn’t.”

“Caitriona. That isn’t a - ”

“No Sarah,” Caitriona eyed them, pinning each of them with a stubborn glare, “You need to hear me on this and then both of you agree to leave this alone?”

Silence, followed by reluctant nods of assent from both sisters. What had started out as jovial conversation had turned into something far more serious. Caitriona really didn’t want to talk about any of this, but, Sarah was like a dog with a bone and she wasn’t about to let this go. Now was as good as time as ever to hit this head on, once and for all. If she was ever going to make it work, this had to be done.

“First,” Caitriona cleared her throat, “You’re right about somethings. Sam is great guy. He is and we’ve become close friends but Sam is just a friend and that is all he will ever be. Not because he doesn’t want to be something more but because I don’t want to be. I can’t date him and I’m not going to.”  She stopped them from interrupting with sharp look, “And not just because of my rules either. When I first started Outlander, I thought for a small time that maybe, there was a possibility. But there just isn’t. It's, we, ” This time she did hesitate, thinking how to explain this in a way they would understand.

Sarah tightened her grip on her sister’s forearm, “You don’t feel it?”

Caitriona sighed and shook her head, “Sometimes I think there might be something, but then other times, not at all. When he kissed me, I felt nothing more than I do on set. Work. Just work. I wish sometimes I did feel something more, for his sake as well as my own, because he is geniunely a nice man, but,” She took a deep breath and straightened, “But it’s not there, and I can’t make appear there so, he’s my friend and co-star. I’m not,” Caitriona stopped and swallowed, “I’m not going to screw up this job for any reason. So, friend, co-star and nothing more. I am going keep do what production tells me and keep my head down and work. Make this work. All of it.”

“So why the drive Cait? Sounds to me like the Sam kiss wasn’t what sent you driving into the night? Or at least it wasn’t the only thing?” Deidra tilted her head and watched her sister carefully, genuinely surprised at the candor of her sister’s honest admission. They all be worried when Caitriona had gone missing. Worried because it wasn’t in her character to up and take off. She was more likely to stay and thrash whatever was bothering her out. They had feared that this this time, something was really wrong with their sister.

“It wasn’t, at least not entirely.” Caitriona reluctantly acknowledged, “Tony and I, we, there are some things that we are working out.”

“Working out?” Sarah’s queried “What do you mean working out Caitriona?” If that weasel of a man had hurt her sister in any way shape or form she would take great pleasure in tearing him apart. She’d seen how devastated Caitriona had been after LA. The entire family had witnessed firsthand just how deeply Caitriona had been emotionally hurt with that entire fiasco. While it wasn’t the first time in history that someone in a committed long-term relationship had been unfaithful resulting in pregnancy and it most certainly wouldn’t be the last, that didn’t negate the level of pain Caitriona had dealt with. It had been severe and, Sarah suspected, it aftereffects were still playing a part in how Caitriona approached those aspects of her life now. Maybe that was why Caitriona was willing to stay with Tony? Because he was safer than most other men. At least on the surface.  Safe because, let's face it, her mind stated, no one in their right mind would be lining up to steal him from Caitriona, making the chances of LA happening again with Tony were zero to none. It certainly went a long way towards explaining Caitriona even being with Tony in the first place and a lot towards explaining her reluctance to try somewhere else. Landing a role in Outlander had been more than a blessing in disguise. It had given their sister a reason to get the fuck out of LA and return closer to her family here and more importantly away from that devastating situation. Safe or not, if Tony thought for one second she would stand by and let her sister go through that again then he was sorely mistaken.

“We are working on some things. Things that are really none of your business Sarah, or yours Deidra and anyone else's in the family either. I needed some time to think, so I drove a car. Nothing earth shattering, I just need a moment to, “She stopped, tried not to smile at the memory of the deep voice sounding in her head, “I just needed a moment to breathe.”

“The Sam thing, okay I maybe agree. If it’s not there, it’s not there. I get that, boy do I ever. You don’t end up divorced before you are thirty not understanding that,” Sarah eyed her sister seriously, “but really Caitriona, this thing that you’re doing with Tony, whatever it is, whatever you’re working out with him, is it really the relationship that you want?”

“You deserve to be happy Cait,” Deidra added her two cents worth, “At the end of the day, you’re right, it’s not our business who you hook up with, “ Deidra shot a warning look at Sarah, who was already gearing up to refute that opinion, “Providing and this is a big providing Caitriona, that you are safe, healthy and happy.”

Was she happy?

Not really.

But she wasn’t unhappy enough to leave.

Settle for two out of three? It would have to do. She’d given her word, she’d try. She owed him that.

“You can all stop worrying.” Caitriona glanced from sister to sister, “Really. I’m fine. We’re going to be fine. Everything is fine.”

She wondered if she kept saying it, if it would make it true.

Her reason's were after all, rational and perfectly logical.

She almost believed it them.

Almost.