#i just wish the discussion didn't sometimes boil down to

[gh7stly]

EPILOGUE — poly 141 x immortal gn!reader

<not proofread or anything, been sitting in my draft for the longest time! i hope someone'll enjoy>

The blood that painted your body itches, you noticed. It irked you, really, so the idea of spending one more hour on the same clothes you had on when you left for this mission was a torture by itself. As the helicopter shook one last time while landing, you immediately started making your way to the community bathroom, ignoring every greetings of other soldiers, previous mission partners and privates in the way. Muppets. 

“I thought the military taught basic etiquette, soldier. Been looking forward to making it home?” A voice not so strange called after you, slowly turning around as if scared to scare it away, Kate Laswell enters your vision. “Happy?”

You make a false discontent face. “Last time I saw your face I had 7 less lives in my hand, happiness is not the right feeling…. More like a bad omen?”

“I’m glad You're here and alive, then. You even taken a bath yet? There's subjects to be taken care of and I need you available as soon as possible, and, yes, I'm making the proposal again”, you take notice of how she avoided the responsibility and somehow proved your ��bad omen” point, Kate's proposal didn't mean good things to come. “This is not the place to talk about it, Spook, but it is the right time. We need y-”

You bark out a laugh. “Fuck no, Laswell”, patting her on the shoulder, you turn around and start walking. “Coronel is not agreeing, plus, I have no interest in your suicide inhibitions against the US. Give up!”

“Spook. The time is running out. You know why you'd be the most important thin-”

“Thing?” 

Laswell makes a disapproving sound from getting interrupted again. Aware of the sudden seriousness of the moment, she grabs your arm to go further into the corridor away from the crowds and recruits.

“You are not a 14 year old girl, Spook. You are a soldier, a soldier responding to one of the biggest special forces in the world, and you have the ability of doing what I could only wish to do”, she stopped walking abruptly and stared down into your soul, this discussion is your least favorite one to have. “You can fuck up. Has this not internalized into you yet? Dead boys are sent to their mamas everyday for a tiny mistake but you have the ability of throwing it all into the air and walking away unharmed, so why not use who you are for the better cause? We need you”

Her words punctuated your gut, your frustrations boiled up deep in your stomach and revealed itself by the shaking in your hands; they've gotten worse recently, you've come to notice. There wasn't much to do about it except put them into fists and dig your nails deep into the palm of your hand until it made you grounded enough to find your voice, stuck in the back of your throat. This subject, this proposal and its implications had enough force to make you crumble easily, Laswell of course knew nothing about it – just that you were stubborn and kept refusing. 

“I am here because you asked me to make you useful, because you wanted to help. I know you're a human, Spook, but you're in the military and not a playground. What you want is not what you're getting sometimes, not because you don't matter, but because you are a useful trick we could have up our sleeve. So I'm going to ask you again, are you going to fucking help or not?

Staying in silence, you bit your tongue to stop from getting an insubordination letter. Part of you, the human part you guessed, felt talked down still. Did you ask for this life? Who made you this way? Wanting to help didn't mean killing yourself on purpose on missions, didn't mean getting used by superiors like an unbreakable toy. You're here because you wanted to be a hero, but right now, you're afraid of having more blood on yourself than the villains.

The other part, the freak one as you called, knew that that's exactly what you were. A puppet. From the moment you joined the military, it was better to devoid yourself from feelings, needs, or any basic thought. You liked it, even. Getting pushed to the limits of morality, treated like a piece of a big chess match. A cold air passed through you both until you finally had swallowed enough ego to speak.

“Let me at least change clothes and then you can go through your little plan." That was the closest thing to a yes you could've gotten before puking bile, but it was enough for her.

“Thank you, Spook. 1700 sharp” nodding, you let out a sigh you weren't aware of holding.

“You're a bad omen, Laswell. After today, I hope it'll be a long time until we meet again.” Even with the harsh words, a project of a smile showed in your face. Kate Laswell was probably the closest thing to a mom you'll ever have in your life. “I agree.”

[conanssummerchild]

writing more rick and morty fanfic abt rick wanting to off himself, also Summer's here !! :D

tw discussions of suicide and suicidal thoughts and such

Morty fidgeted with his hands where he was leaned against Rick's work bench, but Rick paid him no mind, all his intense focus on whatever invention he was currently tweaking.

It had been nearly three months already since Rick had finally found and killed Rick Prime, and Morty had started to breathe a little easier. For the first few weeks after the event his worry for Rick had been so great that it felt like a huge weight was crushing his lungs, not letting him relax for even a second, but Rick seemed to be doing a little better now. His drinking was back down to normal levels for him—it still wasnt healthy, but when had rick ever cared about his own health? He started joining the family for meals again, and actually ate. Mostly.

But there was still moments when Morty would catch him zoning out, with an expression of such pure sadness that it was a little terrifying.

Morty worried so much, it was exhausting. Sometimes he wished he could be more like Rick, letting loose, going with the flow, but then again, things didn't seem to be going too great for him either.

"H-hey–" Morty tried, but his voice came out too squeaky so he cleared his throat. "Hey, Rick?"

"Mhm." Rick mumbled, only half paying attention and Morty frowned.

"Rick." He repeated more firmly, shoving his shoulder lightly to get his attention. "I w-wanna talk about something."

Rick pulled his goggles off harshly, turning to face Morty with a scowl. "Morty I'm in the– in the middle of something. C-can't this wait until after I get the battery on this stupid thing to work?"

Morty pouted. "It's important."

Rick gave a long suffering sigh, rubbing his hand over his eyes. "For fucks sake, Morty. You– you always wanna talk when I'm doing important science shit. What do you want?" He tossed his googles down onto the work bench, not bothering to look where they landed and reached inside his labcoat, grabbing his flask and taking a swig of a foul-smelling, likely alien liquor that Morty could smell even from where he stood on the other end of the work bench. He wrinkled his nose but continued.

"I-I-I've been real worried about you, Rick–"

"Oh, god." Rick interrupted with a large, rather dramatic groan. "Can I just kill myself in advance, or– or is attendance to this talk mandatory?" He rolled his eyes, taking another slightly larger sip from his flask.

Morty startled a little. "Rick! don't– don't say that." He said. His voice trembled a little, the resolve he'd been trying to build up crumbling.

Rick looked like he had another sarcastic comeback ready to go, but paused at Morty's watery eyes, his unibrow rising up into his hairline in surprise.

"Woah, woah, Morty, I was just– just kidding. I was just joking." His tone softened a little, clearly trying to be comforting but missing the mark, his discomfort palpable.

And Morty couldn't help it, he burst into tears.

"Shit, uh, don't cry, Morty. I, uh, it's okay... dawg."

Morty would've laughed a little at Rick's emotional constipation if it didn't feel like there wasn't any air getting into his lungs.

"Please don't kill yourself." was all he could get out between sobs. "P-please, grandpa Rick. I don't want you to die."

"I'm not killing m-my-myself." Rick cringed at the stutter. God, he was really out of his depth. He gulped down the rest of the contents of his flask like it was water and he had just spent all day in the boiling sun.

What was he suposed to do? What were his options right now? Call for Beth? No, not with Morty's cries for Rick not to kill himself, she would freak, and Jerry was useless, so he was left with only one option.

"Summer!"

He shook his hands out anxiously, trying to shake the stress out of them.

Summer pushed open the door. "What?" She drawled, and then caught a glimpse of Morty's sobbing form. "Oh, shit, what happened?"

"I don't know." Rick was practically vibrating with nervous energy, trying to keep his hands tightly at his sides now that Summer was watching. "I-I-I-I don't know w-w-what to do."

"Jeez, grandpa, breathe. Since when do you care about Morty being upset?"

Rick shrugged, fuck she was right, this wasn't how he acted normally, he needed to calm down, why was he so frazzled? A little voice in his head reminded him that he knew exactly why. He ignored it.

"Fuck you! Just– Just help me, Summer!"

"Calm down." She said, and then turned to Morty, who was crying quieter now, hands covering his face. "Morty, what's wrong?"

Rick held his breath.

"S-S-Summer..." Morty hiccuped.

"Yeah I'm here."

"I think grandpa Rick wants to kill himself."

Summer's eyebrows raised a little and her eyes widened, she tried to school her expression back into something neutral but she had clearly not been expecting that answer.

"I don't!" Rick immediately cut in but Morty began to cry harder again at that.

Summer shot him a look and Rick winced, retreating into a corner of the garage. He reached for a bright green bottle labled 'Water' in a different language. He'd gotten it from a small humid planet in the Ribble-Bob system, where what they considered water had a higher alcohol content than anything he could get his hands on on earth, and to Rick's delight, it was a hell of a lot cheaper. He had a stash of Ribble-Bobbian alcohol too, but it was so strong that it could knock out humans with even the highest tolerance with only a few shots. So he kept that for special occasions.

He watched silently as Summer calmed Morty down, throughts racing and neon green bottle emptying. It was pretty clear that Morty was very upset, even Rick in all his emotional ineptitude could see that, but he was struggling to descifer Summer's feelings. She seemed... annoyed at him? No, not quite. Rick frowned. The buzz that he'd began to feel wasn't helping any, he shook his head frustratedly. She was tense for sure, the whole room was thick with tension though.

Eventually Morty's quiet sobs stopped altogether and he wiped his eyes, quick to fix them on Rick as soon as tears weren't blurring his vison anymore.

Rick shifted awkwardly from his position on the floor, laying his legs flat in front of him in lieu of folded to his chest and slowly waving at Morty without making eye contact, unsure of what the fuck else to do.

"Can w-we backtrack a little?" Morty said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Rick nodded, unusually quiet. His words felt stuck in his throat and he couldn't get them out.

Morty sighed a little, accepting he wasn't going to get anything out of Rick right now, and going on with what he had wanted to say. "Okay. I've been worried about you because w-when Evil Morty came here, when you had already left to get, um, that guy."

"Prime." Rick croaked, voice forced.

"Right, Prime. A-A-After you left to fight Rick Prime, Evil Morty asked me what I thought was gonna happen if you actually killed him, and he kind of suggested that you might... kill yourself."

"Evil Morty's full of shit." Rick rasped. "He doesn't even know me, we've met like w-what, three times?"

"I'm not done! Let me finish." Morty pouted. "Him saying that worried me be-because it made me think about all your reckless behaviour and how little you seem to care about your own life sometimes, you know."

Rick scoffed but Summer raised an eyebrow at him, so he just scowled and looked back down at his feet, letting Morty continue.

"I-I guess I'd never considered it before, I mean not seriously. Sure, I... wondered sometimes, b-but when Evil Morty said it like that, well, the more I thought about it the less... unrealistic it seemed, and you've just seemed so empty these past months, i was re-really worried." Morty's voice broke a little, but he pushed on. "Also he's seen your downloaded brain, so, y-y'know he would know, right? He wouldn't just be saying it for no reason."

"He was saying it to-to-to psych you out, Morty!" Rick stammered, gesturing wildly. "And it's working! Look how psyched out you are, M-Morty! This is what he wanted!"

"Why would Evil Morty want this?"

"Uh, because he's evil, Morty. Duh-doy."

"Okay!" Summer interrupted loudly. "This isn't getting anywhere."

"It would get somewhere if Morty would just-"

"Grandpa Rick! Stop. Can you both just listen to me? Or I'm putting you in a cage again until you actually prove you're not a danger to yourself."

Rick crossed his arms, glaring at her, but she glared right back, unwavering.

"Fuck, whatever." He grumbled, slumping back against the wall.

"Good." Summer said, turning serious again. "Now, how can you reassure Morty that you aren't going to hurt yourself?"

"He should just take my word for it!"

"You lie to me all the time!" Morty exclaimed.

"He has a point." Summer cut in again. "Why should he trust you? Especially if you're planning on killing yourself."

"Im not killing myself!"

"I don't believe you." Morty said, sounding miserable and hurt. Rick's shoulders slumped. He didn't have a good response to that.

The silence streched on uncomfortably, the atmosphere tense and serious. This was a real issue, which Morty knew Rick didn't like to deal with. His style was more like shoving his serious problems under the metaphorical carpet until he couldn't walk on it without feeling sharp pain wherever he stepped, until no one could walk on it at all.

"Well I don't believe you either." Summer said quietly. But I do have one idea." She pointed to her left and Rick and Morty's eyes followed her gaze to the lie detector Rick had stolen on his and Morty's adventure to Venzenulon-10.

Morty shuddered remembering it, he'd nearly fallen into lava that day and Rick had barely flinched. Would Rick even be doing this for him? He couldn't imagine him crying for Morty the way Morty had been crying for him just a few minutes ago.

"I'm not– A polygraph, Summer? Seriously? That's dumb, I'm not doing that shit, this isn't fucking Community."

"What? What the fuck is that?" Summer frowned.

"Community? What– you've never watched Community? Fuck, we-we've gotta watch it. Not Earth's one though, Glorbion-56C's version is way gayer, we gotta watch that one."

"Okay, sure, whatever. But first we have to finish this." Summer put her hands on her hips, not willing to budge.

"I agree with Summer." Morty pitched in, more meek, but still firm.

"Fine, fuck, whatever. You know polygraph tests are dumb, right? They might w-work on simple minded neurotypicals like Jerry, but I'm the fucking smartest man in the–"

"Grandpa, sit the fuck down."

Rick scowled, but sat down in the chair Summer pointed at, not without an eye roll. He knew that there was no stalling his way out of this one, Summer and Morty were both stubborn and he could see the poorly-concealed anxiety in their faces and demeanour, he knew they weren't going to let this go. He just hoped he really was smart enough to outsmart the lie detector.

"Okay, bring it on." He sighed, feigning boredom and disinterest.

Summer stumbled a little bringing the polygraph over to Rick's work bench, the machinery was heavier than it looked. The Venzenulons had a lot of really advanced technology but the planet Rick had gotten this specific machine on used bismuth in a lot of creations, making then heavier than they should be, but it was worth it, really, Venzenulon-10's technology and craftsmanship was miles ahead of Venzenulon-4's, or god forbid Venzenulon-22's. Rick almost chuckled to himself just thinking about it.

Summer finally set the polygraph machine down on the work bench with a thump and a groan from her and Rick let her fasten the little black strip aroud his finger.

"Take your labcoat off." Summer murmured absentmindedly, fiddling around with the slightly tangled wires.

"My labcoat stays on."

Summer gave him a look.

"Jeez, Rick, just take it off." Morty whined.

"No, fuck both of you. I-I-I'm already doing your dumb ass test and my labcoat being on literally has no effect on that stupid thing working, so both of you can lick my balls." He fumed.

"Jesus, grandpa. Cranky much?" Summer said sassily, putting a hand on her hip. "You can keep your dumb labcoat you're so in love with then."

She slid the cuff up Rick's arm, fastening it around his bicep.

"That's where it goes, right?" She asked. "How do i make the screen turn on?"

"Theres a-a switch on the back." Morty told her. "Just press that and it should work."

Summer felt along the back of the large screen before pressing down on the switch, making it light up with three wiggly graph-like things.

"Uhhh, grandpa how the hell do I read these?" Summer frowned.

"Don't– don't worry. This is like a lie detector for dummies, if you know how to read the lines, great, but it also just displays whether the answer is true or a lie when a question is asked. Ask me something you know the answer to."

"Uh, are your... eyes brown?"

"Yes."

The word "TRUE" flashed across the screen in bold green.

"Oh, tight, okay. We can get started, then. Morty, you ask whatever questions you have, I'll man the machine."

"Okay." Morty said, nerves making his voice wobbly. Rick took a deep breath.

"Do you want to kill yourself?" Morty asked and the garage went completely silent for a moment, air feeling so thick you could choke on it.

"No." Rick answered evenly.

Summer swallowed. "He's– he's telling the truth." She said shakily.

Morty breathed a sigh of relief. "Jeez, well that's– Phew, that's good. That's a relief."

Another beat passed and then Morty spoke again. "Have you ever wanted to kill yourself?"

"No."

"That's a lie."

Rick glared at Summer but she just shrugged, face unreadable to him.

"Aw jeez..."

"Oh come on, my-my whole family died right in front of my eyes, I've been tortured by- by countless aliens, been held prisoner, a guy can't even wonder?"

"Well, I mean, that is, that's– that's a good point you make there, Rick. But- but you wouldn't...? You've never actually tried to, like, actually kill yourself, right, Rick?"

"Obviously not. If– if I wanted to kill myself I would've, and I wouldn't fail, I'm a genius."

"R-right. So you haven't tried to kill yourself?"

"No, Morty."

Summer stared down at the monitor, lips pressed together in a tight line. "That's the truth." She said. her voice sounded a little weird but Morty was too relieved to really think about it.

"Thank god, Rick, wow. That's a really big relief to me, you know. Sorry I-I didn't believe you before, I was real just worried."

"Hey, it's all good, dawg. Don't even- don't even trip about it. You wanna go watch some Ball Fondlers, buddy?"

"Yeah!" Morty grinned, demeanor a lot more relaxed than it had been before. "Yeah, let's watch Ball Fondlers."

"What do ya say, Sum-Sum? Ball Fondlers?"

Summer flipped the switch on the machine, powering it back down. "I'm busy." She said, whipping out her phone "Have fun though."

Rick shrugged, detatching himself from the polygraph and tossing the cuff and finger strip onto the table. "Okay. Well I'm getting me some Nuptian weed, babyyy!"

"Aw jeez, Rick. You're getting high?"

"It's– it's better that way, Morty, trust me. Nuptian weed lets you see in 4D. In 4D, Morty! Really enhances the experience. Plus don't– don't you think I deserve to have a little buzz, it's been quite a day."

"I don't know, Rick. Didn't you drink like that whole bottle of liquor just now?" Morty asked, pointing to the discarded green bottle laying in the corner of the room.

"What? Morty, that's water, that's– it's practically water. It says water on the front of the bottle." Rick murmured, digging through one of his drawers before triumphantly pulling out a small transparent box filled with a bunch of purple-ish pink blunts and a lighter with a naked woman on it. "Ah, fuck yeah, Morty. I knew I still had some. Okay, come on, lets go."

Summer followed them out of the garage and then walked up the stairs, hearing their conversation get quieter as they got further away. She didn't let the first tear fall until she was in her room with the door shut.

"Shit." She breathed. "What the fuck."

She sat down with a small thud and hugged her knees to her chest.

She hoped the memory on the lie detector didn't back up, or that Morty didn't get curious and look through it one day, just to be sure.

Because if he did, he would just see the same word displayed four times in bold red.

"LIE"

the end hfjejsjw

this sucks arseee and its way too long and i dirnt really go over the second half but idc its 2am so sorry for any spelling errors and general shitty writing 😗 peace out, hope u enjoy

[ordinaryschmuck]

I saw a post about how Carmen Santiego has great character designs and diversity through race and body types. I considered it a good post and one that makes a good point...And then below it was a reblog about how a person went "If Carmen Santiego can have a diverse cast of HUMANS, then what the hell is up with Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss?"

First of all...What the hell do either of those two things have in common? They sure are animated shows, I'll give you that. Except that one's a children's animated spy thriller and the other two are adult musical comedy dramas in Hell. Stylistically and tonally, neither of them have anything to do with each other and you just randomly made a point because...you hate Hazbin and Helluva? Cool. Congratulations. Now get a new personality and just fucking watch something else if these two shows made your hatred this obsessed when you randomly attack a show through a post that has NOTHING to do with it. The OP wasn't attacking Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss. Unless they constantly attack it and they made that post to prove a previous point, something that does NOT come across in that original post, there's no reason to go "Hey, why didn't these completely different shows with their own styles take notes of this kids show with ITS unique style?"

And here's the thing: I like Carmen Santiego. I like the way that it looks, and I think its style really is unique compared to other animated series that have come out around the same time. And I do agree that it has a great diverse cast that shows off a lot of body diversity where every single character looks unique in their own way. But here's the thing: I would not go out of my way to attack other shows, to the point where I'd hijack someone else's post to say, "Yeah, this show is WAY better than this other one I hate." And if I had in the past...I'm sorry. I really am sorry. I hate that I acted that way and I will try to do better. Because that's what I do with media criticism or talking about stuff I don't like. I try to act BETTER than I have in the past because that's not how you talk about media. Whether you like it or hate it, it's never a good thing to talk about something you hate when the discussion is about something someone else loves. Sometimes it makes sense, as there are often two products that are similar to each other. Like Marve/DC, Star Wars/Star Trek, and The Owl House/Amphibia. Those are media where there's a lot to compare and contrast, with people being unaware that the main reason why they like the other basically boils down to personal preferences when it comes to consuming media. But with Hazbin/Helluva and Carmen Santiego, there's really NOTHING to compare and you're just going out of your way to talk about something you hate when it's not relevant to the conversation. It's like people who hyped up Puss in Boots: The Last Wish just to shit on Velma. Yeah, The Last Wish is a thousand times better than Velma, but there's nothing similar about both products that make the discussion worth it. You're just using something you love as a weapon towards something you hate.

I get it, people like some things and hate others. It's how we're wired as human beings and I can't stop that. Nor do I think I CAN stop it. But just feel like this is making media discussion worse when all we can think of to do when discussing something we love and bringing in something we hate into the conversation. It's not necessary, and you're feeding the creators that thing you hate by still talking about it. You want to know the best possible way to react to "objectively bad" media? Stop talking about it. Stop watching it. STOP ENGAGING.

If you don't fucking like it, stop consuming this piece of media and go watch something you enjoy instead. Give THAT your time. Show how THAT does everything right and sing its praises. Raise up this one thing that you believe is "objectively good" so it can effectively overshadow this thing you consider "objectively bad." There's a way to discuss media without shitting on something you don't like.

[that-weird-skeleton-bastard]

a bunch of Psychonauts incorrect quotes

Lili: Lol. Heads up if you try to make a candle with food coloring, the food coloring will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food coloring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you’ll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food coloring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter. Please take my word on this. Raz: What did you do Lili? Lili: a Mistake.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Raz: Lili, you risked your life to save me! Lili: And I’d do it again! And perhaps a third time! But that would be it.

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sasha : Kill me nowwwww. Hollis: Sorry, no can do. I need your help with my work.

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milla: You know, I really wish you’d just admit you made a mistake sometimes. Hollis, stirring her coffee: I prefer it with salt.

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Hollis: Are you alright with constructive criticism? I don't want to sound mean. milla: No, go ahead. I want to hear it. Hollis: It sucks. milla: That's not constructive criticism

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raz: The greatest trick the devil ever played was getting me banned from an all you can eat pizza buffet. ford: Why’d you get banned? raz: Touched the rat. ford: … What rat? raz: Chunky Cheese.

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lili: *walks into the room* raz: They’re covered in blood again. Why is it they’re always covered in blood? sasha : Well, it looks like it’s their own blood this time.

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raz: I can't believe you've done this..... lili: I'm sorry I didn't know-! raz, on the verge of tears: YOU CAN'T JUST BUY ME A GIFT OUT OF NOWHERE NOW I FEEL LIKE A HUGE ASSHOLE!

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sasha : What is the one thing I told you not to do? raz: Burn the house down. sasha : And what did you do? raz: I made dinner. sasha : raz: sasha : raz: And burnt the house down.

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raz: I have a plan. sasha : I have the hospital and milla on speed dial.

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lili: You’re kind of a pushover, aren’t you, raz? raz: …I’m sorry. lili: See!? That’s exactly what I’m talking about!

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sasha , filling out legal paperwork: Were you guys born AMAB or AFAB? raz: Bold of you to assume I was born at all. lili: I personally was created in a lab. milla: I just straight up spawned lol.

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raz: Am I a boy? Am I a girl? It doesn't matter. I'm going to burn your house down.

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lili: We need to distract these guys. raz: Leave it to me. raz: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss. sasha & milla: *immediately begin arguing*

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sam : What if I lied this whole time and I'm actually 18? raz: sam , stop trying to get drugs. sam : Don't suppress my interests.

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sam : I’m quick at math. raz:��Ok, what’s 38 times 76? sam : 24. raz: That wasn’t even close. sam : But it was quick.

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dion: Being half asleep and feeling someone gently plant a kiss on your forehead is one of the purest kinds of love in the world. frazie: Unless you're home alone.

[crystalelemental]

Well, today was the day. Babycat passed away. I'm going to be venting a bit under the cut, because it was...not how we would've liked it to go.

For the last five days, she barely ate anything. Like, maybe two bits of her food, between both meals. We tried shifting to treats, same deal. We even boiled chicken for her, which she seemed excited about at first, but she could barely eat it. She'd always sniff, and sometimes she seemed to get antsy about being fed, but wouldn't eat anything. She was honestly getting kinda...spacey. It was inconsistent, but she would just seem like she was dazed and borderline unresponsive at times. And her breathing was getting really raspy and her coughing wet.

So, we decided to schedule putting her down, and they had an opening today. We brought her in, but on weighing her, it seemed like for as much as she seemed to be losing weight, she barely lost any. Her lungs were in bad shape, but she did jump down and scamper away from the vet, so there's activity. We discussed what we had seen, and the vet's interpretation was that, if she's trying to eat but can't, it might be nausea brought on by the inflammation in her lungs from the cancer. So we ultimately determined that we'd try a steroid shot, with a stronger dose, to see if it would soothe her enough to eat, and check back tomorrow. If she's still not eating, we'd go through with putting her down, because at that point, it's not just discomfort keeping her from eating, she'd have given up.

We had her home maybe half an hour when I could hear her panting from the other room. I went to check, and she's on her side just like...heaving. We tried to comfort her, but when we tried to pet her, she'd scream and try to pull back. I was pretty sure at the time I saw blood on her lips, which...was a bad sign. We called the vet back and it was pretty clear we needed to bring her back in to be put down. Trying to move her was...very difficult. She just screamed the whole time, even once we got her on a pillow to carry out instead of putting pressure on her body. Once I moved her, I could tell there were spots of blood on the mat she was laying on. The fluid in her lungs she was coughing up was blood. Either the shot or something else had caused it to escalate, and now it was just filling up. We tried to get her there quickly, but by the time we were there, she was already gone.

It was...honestly terrible. I wish I had the resolve to just say no, we're confident this is it, but...this was my first pet I've seen go through this, and the last time we had something scheduled, the vet checked her and said she could be okay and it got her an extra month. What if we could do something like that again? Maybe not as long, her lungs were clearly in worse shape, but any time we could get felt like the right thing to do. If she was still moving, still had the energy to fight the vet, still seemed to want to eat, didn't that mean she wanted to try too? Even if she didn't really understand everything that was happening, shouldn't we try to do what she would've wanted? But god, this feels so much like we made the wrong call. And scrambling to get her into my wife's lap while I drove to the vet doesn't really feel like being there for her. The only mercy is that it happened quickly; the fast decline took maybe 10 minutes in total, and most of that was the phone call when we realized something was wrong. It was quick, if literally nothing else.

[somegirlnamedalicia]

Screw it, I'm not keeping this rant in the tags.

I am so, so tired of this shit. I've seen too many people dogpile and witch hunt others for what turned out to be a mistake. And even if it hadn't been a mistake? That's still no excuse for harassing someone and wishing death on them.

Probably the most pertinent example is chuggaaconroy. Did he do some shit he shouldn't have? Yeah. Did he deserve all the demonization and hate he got that drove him to thoughts of suicide? Absolutely fucking not. His career and passions have possibly been ruined forever because of this. He and the people close to him have been hurt by what boiled down to internet drama. And it fucking disgusts me. No, he's not totally faultless, but again, he didn't deserve all of this.

There have been smaller examples in the fandoms I follow, too. People dogpiling and condemning others for creating something they deemed "problematic" when, more often than not, it was a misunderstanding or something that was ultimately harmless. Works of fiction and art that meant someone had to be a horrible person for daring to create that. Fictional depictions of something don't always mean support or even approval of it. Sometimes, they're meant to condemn. Sometimes, they're devices meant to move a story forward. Sometimes, they're just an author pointing at something and going, "Man, isn't that fucked up?" Because art allows us to do that. And I don't think that's a bad thing as long as you're not seriously considering doing those things in real life (and if you are, maybe see a therapist). And gods, don't even get me started on the misunderstandings. Ignorance isn't a crime; only an unwillingness to learn from it is. Nobody should be harassed and driven off the internet for not knowing something.

I get the feeling certain people won't be too happy with this take. I'm fine with that. I could sit here and try to justify myself and discuss my personal beliefs on the merits and faults of all kinds of themes (there are some I am very uncomfortable with and that make me raise an eyebrow or two), but I feel like that won't matter to some people.

Anyone else getting really fucking sick of this support:condemn dichotomy where folks online act like the only two possible responses to anything ever are to wholeheartedly support it or wholeheartedly condemn it?

"Oh you said that you dont think that random stranger should be sent full on death threats and doxxed for their iffy artwork? Why do you support racism" how about we all go outside and interact with real people and see how they react when you say things like that!

[commacomatose]

B.O.D.Y of "WORK"

You thought what you could want was a direct confirmation. A generation stuck in stasis from false information. Says substances are banned when it’s not your medication limit anything that expands the narrative conditioned. Looks sleek on the surface – so guilt ridden; the truth is told but with skewed vision. Designed to do what you should Allege symbolic representation To state but it can't, no plain language statement. Say it's an old station. War on drugs spoken about in rap - sure know the cliche. Yes, dated propaganda - remind those echoed messages with a better aperture. Yes, sometimes we revelate in it like it’s kitsch. Speak of the agenda; cos we know the essence – essentially of good soul food. Got poor direction. Where we got the end point but it’s still confused Deep down knowing there's a correct path sans the convoluted view. How and Where it gets to, in clear view – no settling for the plan 2. When discussions are incongruent with roads lacking their cohesion. Destination and destined gravel trails the same but the truth solidifies concrete as valid manifestation. It’s the law of attraction; not a DUI. With lingering doubts, any ulterior motives simmer under the surface. Missing that opportunity to even that tension. A watched pot sighted endlessly boiling it’s contents onto another device that heats my tea to mix with my milk Of course there was no stainless steel To choose as a colour choice. But, let's start with the rationale for this intention. & I shall keep confusing kitchen utensils with the oven’s soot. Tier 1 only needs shame as a motivation. Leaning on heuristics to tame the nation. How can we say we want you to do it without demonstrating the hypocrisy and conflict of said interest? What is normative, efficient and economical - in terms of remaining an anonymous sadist? (Whilst performing performative public disapproval) Tempting you best ; perpetuating the forbidden fruit narrative. Not even treading, indeed fearing any step near a fresh produce shop. You know it's bad, say it two-faced, find every way for you to turn to it, counting the dimes ridge as a third perspective. There is no tail in my head. Punish you for adhering to our wishes. Structured fox structure that’s structurally an anomaly– With an economy we should call BDSM running. Gotta sociologically pretend it's political, so call it power, domination and controlling. Pass the PS4 controller, it is very good at monitoring. How you submit in orange clothes?  Hands bound with metal Oh! on a mass level it’s essentially systemically horny. (An essential system) With nothing to fuck but you need to let it out, what you're giving up is coming outta your wallet - and you still didn't even come. You just worked to live, which is eat, shit and reproduce. Thinking perhaps and comparing yourself to moth and locust privilege. After eating, it’s onto refuse, They are fucking you over and you paid to. How that reverse hedonic treadmill? Could correct that sentence or statement but its running faster till the dick can start. It’s coming back up with all the eggs milled and the seed frozen, stored and sealed. & you won’t buy it if it’s pesticide-free.

Still not at the crux yet? Haven't touched on the descent into a GHB nation. (A prickly topic, beverage - drink). We are conglomerate battery packs, exhausted all natural assets now shorting finite chemicals manufacturing the fumes from collected exhumed bodies and weed killer exorcisms. Research chemical stacking for a high bolstered by the paint thin. Where the colour skims requiring multiple undrying coats. Like the nail polish that you just won’t Resist the urge to instantly smudge and fuck it up, to pretend it was an accident. Incorporated smears and blemishes, no longer thinner, the ‘e’ and ‘r’ are exhausted atomic weapons. Holidaying on a beach in Nagasaki. It's a chemical shitstorm, you wish methamphetamine was rat poison. But it is a lethal part-time rodent. Stack that to the schizophrenics in max potentiate, condense, distil and extract the condition of their isolation. Now we’re working with a worthy distillate! With the experimentals contain the juice for bioaccumulation. & I’m going to English classes for my chemistry lessons.

[oumakokichi]

I don't want to be a prickly pear about this but, I hate that suggesting an angle for Ouma's background and overall actions different to the popular interpretation is... trying to 'excuse' him. If multiple endgame ideas about HPA's existence can co-exist then yes, the same can be said for Ouma and his relationships. A lot about him is left open ended (such as, what goes on behind the scenes with co-op partners). I'd have less issues embracing differences if people could try to understand that.

Oh, no worries anon! I actually agree with you wholeheartedly--I just have had people in the past accuse me of “woobifying” Ouma or “excusing his actions” when that’s never been my intention with this blog at all.

I also agree that characters and their relationships can be multi-faceted and complex, as well as their motivations and thought processes. Ouma is supposed to be a complex character who causes people to have extremely polarized opinions about him.

Regardless of if people like him or don’t, it’s a fact that Kodaka himself has stated in the official art book and other interviews that Ouma is the ndrv3 character he “put the most thought into,” as well as the character who best represents the themes of the entire game. I think it’s totally fine if people don’t like Ouma for personal reasons or if his character archetype just doesn’t appeal to them, but downplaying his character to “pure, sadistic evil” or dismissing his other motivations just really feels like ignoring a lot of canon, contextual factors to me.

I think statements like “Ouma had good intentions, cared about his classmates and hated seeing them die, and wanted to end the killing game” can and should coexist with “Ouma was still deeply flawed, hurt people despite his good intentions, and should be held accountable for his actions.” Sadly, a lot of times fandom debate sometimes boils down to a more black-or-white “character did [x thing] so they’re 100% good/bad,” and this is why it can be a little difficult sometimes to analyze and discuss characters who are notoriously morally ambiguous.

I absolutely love Ouma, flaws and all--in fact, it’s the juxtaposition of his worst flaws (arrogance, paranoia, cold pragmatism) with his best character traits (playfulness, curiosity, love for others) that sets him apart from a lot of the other characters in DR and has made him so much fun to analyze. I just hope people can understand that saying “this is the reason a character acted this way” isn’t at all the same as saying “this character did nothing wrong.” Danganronpa is a game about murder and suspicion, after all; most of the characters have either done some pretty flawed stuff or else died pretty early on.

[guttedwhxre]

Hello! I saw you took requests and wrote for Jesse! Could you maybe write where the and reader are together but Spann is a bit friendly with Jesse (because let's face it, we saw how she was in the movie, she definitely did things with Jesse like an assistant with benefits), and reader is trying to keep their cool while showing Spann that their not going anywhere and is in it for the long run?

Sorry if I didn't explain too well, but thank you for writing and take your time I know you must be busy I get sometimes it takes a bit so really no rush!

Thank you 🤗

thank you soo much for the request love, sorry for the wait <3

tw: none!

INCONVENIENCE - JESSE CROMEANS X READER

he knew you were in it for the long-run. of course you were, you’d learned every single one of jesse’s flaws and secrets, as he learned yours in turn. you were his rock, and he was your light. together you made a lovely couple, as shown by the heavy ring on your finger. you knew that your lover was desirable, he is a man of great power after all - it’s just a pain in your ass when the help tries to have their way with him. preston was dead for a reason, and you just wished he’d wise up and do the same thing to spann. 

the lingering looks and barely concealed touches were grating in your nerves. if you were a worse person you’d take one of jesse’s shiny knives, kill her, record it and show it to him as an early birthday gift but you know it’d only serve to piss him off - and yeah maybe you didn’t have the prowess to take spann on. but it still made your blood boil when she dares to try and subtly flirt. 

you were in his office, sitting on his desk as he sat in his office chair. his hand began to creep up your thigh and you smiled, fully ready to give him exactly what he wanted. then someone knocks at the door. 

“come in,” bleats jesse’s robotic voice, and in strides spann; seemingly a little startled at your presence. 

“mx. cromeans,” she says, smile with a little too much teeth. “i didn’t expect you to be in today,” you do your best to bite back a scowl. spann seems to quickly recover, icy eyes meeting yours. 

“i thought i’d surprise jesse,” you say, smiling at your spouse. “he’s never one to complain,” at this you feel your man scoot closer to you, hand wrapping around your waist. you smile wider, but spann is unphased. 

“right. well, i was wondering if mr. cromeans would like to join me for lunch,” she pauses, as you repress the urge to clench your fist. she smirks slightly, eyes falling on jesse. “there’s some things i’d like to discuss. about the company, of course,” smug bitch. you’re about to open your mouth to respond when jesse’s monotonous tenor interrupts you. 

“no. don’t ask again when i’m with my spouse,” it’s final. spann, ever the collected one, purses her lips and nods. 

“i’m sorry mr. cromeans-“ she begins to say, but jesse holds a hand up, typing something quickly out on the keypad he holds in your lap. looking down at it, you bite back a smile as he presses the ‘send’ key. 

“matter of fact, don’t ask again. if i ever need to speak with you about something, i will come to you. is that clear?” you’re trying to suppress your giggles but this is just too good. you hold a hand to your mouth and laugh quietly, squeaking when jesse pinches your side. you look down at him but his mask is still turned towards spann. the woman is looking down at the ground, suddenly meek. 

“yes sir. i apologize,” she quickly turns out of his office, tail tucked between her legs. you smile freely now, kissing all over jesse’s mask. 

“you told her, huh?” you coo, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his neck. his broad shoulders shake with silent laughter, you feel the rumble in his chest when he presses closer to you. 

“of course,” his machine says, his fingers tapping quickly against the keyboard. “i won’t tolerate any inconveniences when i’m with my love,” you feel his gaze from behind his gleaming mask and any fear you may have felt melts away. it’s you and him forever, despite what spann may think. 

“seriously though, i think i want her dead.” you murmur, and jesse throws his head back with rumbling laughter, squeezing you close to his side.

xoxo, babe 💋

[thesoulesscollection]

Hello. New to Tumblr, and thought of a fun ask.

It might be a bit tricky, but might I request a story about any of the surviving Museum Staff after TK/T4L? Some of them feeling guilty for not stopping Henry ultimately leading to the Orbital Station going up and Henry effectively ruling the world? I feel there’s a good amount of angst potential there and it’s always fun seeing the hardly discussed characters get some attention.

Heya, it's nice to see a new face so I hope your stay here is great and that you have fun. Thank you for the prompt request. My ask box is always open for anyone to flood it with anything. Apologies if this took a while, one-shots take me a while to write. 

Tw/Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Supportive Friendship, Minor Violence, Mild Language, Mild Mature Content, Ambiguous Past Relationships & Ambiguous Ending (Maybe Hopeful?)

Character(s)

Kurt Dietrich 

Johnny Panzer (In my interpretation or at least, for this one-shot, he's still alive) 

In a run-down, dingy, local bar in town there were two men, friends since their mid teens, sitting together in a booth drinking their feelings, stresses, and overall anything they didn't want to experience down with rich alcohol.

"Can't believe that bastard went into space?" Kurt cursed, head laid on his palms, watching the TV and what's on screen nearly angered him to the boiling point. "Even the military couldn't stop him, it seems. That fucking blows" 

A recent raid done by the Toppats with another failed attempt by the Military to stop them which made Kurt lose faith in ever seeing an end to the madness on earth. 

"I know. But there's nothing we can do about it now. We should just leave it to the military. Hopefully they can handle that ordeal" Glancing at the taller man who was still in uniform he irritably huffs as the other continues in seemingly good spirits, "There has to be an end. You see the clan never had luck on their side for too long? More so especially with their leaders. One day their newest leader has to slip. Sooner than later, I believe" 

Tensing then relaxing it was hard to believe. Henry Stickmin, known for his luck, would ever slip up. It's near damn impossible. Kurt knew this from past experiences leaving a sour taste in his mouth worse than the cheap booze he drank. What he soon felt was regret though he'll never admit to it. 

"We could've. I should've at least. I had that stinken' chance and blew it. I could've lost my job, livelihood over this and he was right there so reckless in the museum" 

"It's not your fault though, Kurt. Nor was it anyone else who'd worked there either. It just happened. You did your job as you could've in that situation. That's all that anyone can hope for" Johnny went to explain, shrugging his shoulders, taking in a small hesitant sip then recoiling at the bitter taste. 

With his free hand, Kurt motioned over to the TV screen up above where it showed a quick shot of the Toppats' current leader, "I guess. But look at him. That Stickmin is a fucking smug ass dick thinking he owns the damn world" 

"He doesn't. One day he'll simply trip over it and maybe hopefully be caught. Even better he will get punished for all his crimes" 

"I can only hope. He could've seriously hurt someone. He's doing that anyways right at this very moment. He almost killed you by the way and I simply can't dare to forgive him for that neither" 

"But I'm fine now. A little scar on the forehead"  

"It could've been worse-" 

"I get it. Jeeze. That's all I hear, y'know. You're almost as bad as my dad. All that happened is I got knocked out by a ROCK while chasing him in the cruiser"  

Biting at his tongue Kurt gulped nothing then the musky air filling the constricting bar, looking down at his half empty glass contemplating something in his head. 

"I care about you as a friend. Sometimes I really wish things were different. If I acted differently. If I hadn't been so damn brash and rude like I didn't care about literally anything or anyone. Maybe he'll still be here. Mushy as that sounds, I get it" 

There was a slight painful understanding between them, they didn't intend to push too further on it as Johnny just shifted in his seat opposite to his friend. 

"He's out there somewhere. Doing better,  I hope. I know for sure that Dave doesn't truly hate you. Upset perhaps and another point he can't truly hate anyone" He calmly reassured. 

Nodding silently, Kurt finished his drink in one, large gulp, "Hm. He was such a nice guy even if he anxiously chatted a mile a minute. I felt like he was desperately trying to get close to me, like he needed a friend or something, however I pushed him away in annoyance. I bet that's why he left soon after that whole Stickmin incident among the obvious reasons of course"

"Again. Don't worry about it too much. You go into a downward spiral again. He's doing fine most likely then not and maybe you didn't act nice at the time but you've changed. You're doing better too" 

"Suppose so" 

"One day, Kurt. Everything will change for the better. There will be a time where you'll feel satisfied. Happy even" 

One day Kurt truly hopes. It may seem far fetched in his cynical eyes although he can still wish. Dream of a better life with the people he truly finds himself caring for, opening up entirely to without shame, and for once starting to live out a more fulfilling life. Though he tends to stay realistic, taking one baby step at a time. So he called it a night, not drinking away his issues when cracking an amused smile at his old friend. 

"Yeah. One day" 

[alicedrawslesmis]

I really enjoyed your posts about how/why modern adaptations of Les Mis flop. I’ve noticed, too, any time there’s a fantasy or YA (or both) adaption, even those really shy away from politics and stick with “protagonist on the run” and also maybe “love triangle that is literally only bc of On My Own being such a hit”

yeah I was just kind of speculating but to me it boils down to 'people with money to make and market movies are not interested in offending paying customers' cause movies are very expensive to make. It becomes a cycle, only very moderate/kinda conservative movies get made and in turn moderate becomes the genre norm and it gets less likely for anything that deviates from it to get funding

I haven't read any of those YA adaptations myself because I'm not a very YA person even when I was in the demographic for it, but I know for books it's a whole different animal... There's much more competition, the barrier for entry in traditional publishing is way higher, and the things that sell the most end up being love/romance and it's also kind of a genre expectation? If a ya novel has no love triangle it's already weird by itself

books are a weird beast because in theory they're one of the most 'free' forms of media, you can write whatever you want and nowadays you can very easily get that self-published. You can even write a whole book on your phone now. It's like podcasts, everyone has one and that means a total overexposure to them and also most of them are really bad

Idk where I'm going with this? I guess just that traditional publishing is a marketing game and self publishing historically is a place where basically only love/romance sells copies, and like that one person who recently wrote a retelling of the oddissey but admitted to never having read it outside of percy jackson, sometimes you just do an adaptation of something known because it's a thing people recognize but you don't particularly care for it (I know one of those YA ones is an adaptation of les mis but only partially? But I didn't read any of them, so I can't say what did or didn't motivate the authors to write these) (also I can't really pretend like there aren't a ton of people who like les mis for the romance and to see javert chasing valjean and don't go beyond that, it's fine. I wish there was more to the discussion but fine)

[hunterkinniie]

The Owl House - human rain shower {short piece}

word count; 1, 040

───────────────

Amity wasn't sure what she loved more here, the warm and inviting atmosphere of this home or the sweet smiles both Nocedas sent her way. Sitting on the coach as she carefully watched the confusing overly bright and colourful show that played on it. Despite the neon colours, she really enjoyed the plotline of the series so far, she just hoped it wouldn't end with a cliffhanger as it seemed like it was going to. Though she really didn't like the strange portrayal it had of witches and them all being apparently evil and cruel, she wasn't evil! Couldn't say the same about her parents. A loud clap of thunder snatches her focus away from the screen and she jumps out of her seat. Scrambling to get upright, the witch turns her attention to Luz and looks mortified. Rain! They had to cast a spell to protect this home somehow, it was too nice to be eaten away at! Hurry!

" Quick, Luz, we need to protect this place from the rain!" The witch shouts, she starts to focus on the spell she needed to use, expecting her girlfriend to do the same. They simply laughed instead. Not in a mean though, more of a teasing sort of giggle. While, Mrs. Noceda gave her puzzled look at the panick she displayed, she quickly sent her a comforting smile.

" No acid rain in the human realm, remember, Ams?"

Amity grows red in the face. Luz told her once about human rain, how it never burned flesh like the type on the Boiling Isles did. Which was honestly a pretty interesting concept for rain; some sort of non-acidic downpour, now that would seem like a fantasy back home. She made her way to window and peered out of it, taking sight of the storm going on outside. There was no sign of steam or the panick that usually came with Boiling Isles rain. Maybe she could go out and touch it, or would that be a bad thing? Even if it wasn't burning rain that could harm anything that it touched, Amity still had no real idea what the human realms could do. Perhaps she could ask anyways? And like they had read her mind, her beautiful girlfriend came to sweep off her feet.. Well, that didn't exactly happen but she imagined it that way, instead Luz had opened up the front door. Smiling brightly, as usual, and motioning for her to follow her outside. " Wanna come and play in the rain with me?"

The witchs eyes widened at her offer and her face turned red, it was almost like that romantic movie Mrs. Noceda had put on a couple hours ago! Except the main characters love interest had offered them a chance to dance with them after the rain, wait, what if she did the same with Luz? Or would with that be too dangerous, she didn't know what type of creatures that roamed around this realm. What if something bad happened! Oh, come on, get ahold of yourself Amity! Remember what Luz said, the human realm is far less dangerous and way more calming than the Boiling Isles. Luzs mother seems to instinctively realize their plan and calls out to them from kitchen.

" Don't play too long out there girls, it's going to turn into a pretty cold downpour and get worse! No quiero que ambos se enferma! Especially Amity!"

" It's fiiine, mama! We'll be fiine!" Luz reassures their mother, drawing out the words she says and quickly leads Amity to the porch steps before the witch comes to a stop. She pulls her arms close to her chest and gives the rain a suspicious stare. Her girlfriend takes notice and holds. " Don't worry, Ams, the rain won't a bit.. See?"

Luz takes the chance to run into the rain and twirl around in the concrete sidewalk, right... Only to slip up from the water and land right on her face, but it didn't seem to bother her any despite the grass stuck to her face now, it was more like a momentary inconvenience to her. She leaps right back to her feet, doing a cute a little pose afterwards and pointing their hands towards her. Amity heard her call that hand gesture "finger guns" once. It was kind of cute if she was being honest, she considered trying it out one day herself.

" I am a-okay!"

That makes Amity laugh softly and cause her girlfriend to blush in return. The witch takes a deep breath and begins to cautiously make her way down the porch steps.. She sticks a hand closer to the pouring rain, squeezing her eyes shut, and then.. She feels the odd sensation of luke warm water pelt away at her hand. Amitys eyes snap open and she looks amazed, she steps forward into the rain and grins, excited by this. Luz extends a hand and she takes, picking off the pieces of grass her girlfriend had on their face as she did.

" Is it always like this?" Amity questions, her girlfriend shakes her head in response.

" Pffft, I wish it was! But no, sometimes it doesn't rain and sometimes it rains even more than this, sometimes it's super cold! Sometimes it's.. Well, I don't think I've heard of hot rain in the human realm soo.. It really just depends on the humidity and stuff!"

Luz grins, all too happy to start explaining the different types of rain and how it was in the human realm. One thing Amity loved about them. Always so passionate when discussing the things she loved and knew a lot about.

" I like it." The witch holds out her hands, catching the falling water and showing it off to Luz who quickly began to do the same. Luz gains a rather playful look on her face, right as she tosses up a handful of water and it splashes down on the two of them. Causing both witches start to giggling like mad. " Ah, come on, Luz!"

" I really like the rain too, now let's go, I got something else to show you about human rain!" Her girlfriend smiles, grabbing ahold of her hand gently and leading her down the sidewalk.

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Her Majesty. || 20

Cruella

Anastasia.

The palace halls' are bustling just like my thoughts are overflowing and seizing to stop. I haven't spoken to or seen Harry since we fell asleep last night. Everything was great until it wasn't.

It is partially my fault for what occurred last night. I shouldn't have glanced at his desk and picked up the file, his work is his business, and I had no right to look. I was intrigued. I didn't anticipate recovering photos of what transpired the night my father died, and I didn't expect all the emotions to boil over and cause me to break.

I walk to the stables, the last resort of attempting to attain Harry. When I woke up this morning, I had hoped he would be close by. He habitually tries to linger when he knows I need to be awake at certain times, but I received no greeting this morning. No text, no call, nothing.

I mindfully lead down the hill; strands of thin light come from the sky, springing in between the cloudy May morning. The malachite-green fields appear covered in a bright sheen under the morning rays. The sparkling morning dew is making itself present as I slide on the soggy grass, almost sliding down to a host of daisies dispersed at the bottom.

I find myself safe and sound at the bottom of the hill and in the presence of the horse stables. I discover Harry standing at the fence, leaning his arms on the top panel as he watches a few of the horses being moved around by trainers. Harry glances over his shoulder and sees me but diverts his attention back to the horses. My breath hitches in my throat as I inch closer, I had assumed our issue from last night had subsided, but from the look on his face, I was wrong.

"Been looking all over for you," I break the silence as I stand beside him.

Harry proceeds to stare at the horses, intently observing them. I can only presume he is out here for some fresh air and to clear his head for a few moments before going back to work. "Been here," Harry responds.

"Are we okay?"

Harry breaks his stare from the animals and cocks his head to the side to glance at me. Then, Harry takes a deep breath and nods, "Your horse is doing well," Harry gestures to Meadow as she leads with the trainer.

"Yes," I agree, "Why are you out here?"

"I am watching the horses."

"Why?" I press.

"See the horse on the left?" Harry questions, and I nod my head, "She's going to be racing with yours. They're both good contenders for the Ascot."

"Where did she come from? Mum's horse is grey."

"She's mine… Well, she is ours," Harry responds, "Been watching her train for the last six months."

"When did you have time to buy another horse?" I cross my arms over my chest. I don't know half the shit Harry does, but I am not surprised by him having another horse.

Harry shrugs his shoulders, "Well, the man next to Mum started training her, but he couldn't do it alone. He asked if I would help, and I couldn't, so he brought her down here. Your Mum said she could stay in the stables."

I raise a brow, "Okay… We can discuss the horse thing later, but why are you bouncing around my question on why you are out here? You don't hide out here. I have been looking for you for an hour."

"You know how you need alone time? So do I. You should go inside and get your cuts cleaned up properly," Harry gestures back towards the Palace.

"I am fine," I mutter, "What is wrong, Harry?"

Harry sighs and bends down, picking up a black file from beside his feet and handing it to me, "You want us to be an open book; here it is. I don't want you snooping through the office, I have nothing to hide, but there are sensitive things in that office that you do not need to see." Harry begins as I take the file from his hands, "This file… I am hesitant to give it to you, but if it stops us from arguing, so be it. This is information and pictures of all the suspects that could be linked to your father's murder. Matthew and I have been working with an undercover cop that Parliament hasn't paid off to keep quiet. I have a private detective working with us as well. Every person in this file are suspects and people to be wary of."

"Why are you—"

Harry cuts me off, "I don't want you arguing with me over it. That is why I am showing you. These people are all dangerous. I know what to look for when I am out. I can protect myself and don't need protecting. Matthew has enough faith in me to know I don't need security at all hours. I am safe, Anna. But you need to be aware of these people. Remember their faces in case they come around."

"Just because you can look after yourself, it doesn't mean something can't happen."

"I am trained to do what I do; I am qualified to deal with situations. Let me worry about safety, and you worry about governing the monarch. I am not trying to be condescending, but I don't want to fight with you over my safety. I also don't want you finding things you don't need to see."

"I didn't mean to find what I found. And I don't want to argue; I am just worried about you."

"I know," Harry nods, his eyes ultimately softening, "I am fine, Anastasia, Matthew and I know what we are doing. You wanted us to uncover who did this, and we are. You need to let me do my job as security personnel, and you need to let me do what needs to be done."

I become withdrawn and open the file, my eyes momentarily skimming the photos and the information written under each image. No surprise, half of these members are part of Parliament. "I am working on proving they are immoral. Your mother and I are coming up with a plan."

"My mother is in on this?"

Harry nods, "Yes, sweetheart."

"You're not a detective or an assassin, and you can't do this."

"I promised you I would find who did this. We know what we are doing. Can we please leave this conversation alone now?"

I hand Harry the file back and clear my throat, deciding that sometimes what I do not know will not hurt me. I understand where Harry is coming from. "So, you have another horse in Ascot? How rich are you?" I chuckle.

"Not very," Harry responds. "Speaking of money though," Harry begins, "There is a house up for sale in the countryside. Would you like to take a look at it? It would be a good escape for you, so you aren't always on royal grounds."

"I haven't even looked at the Duchy of Lancaster. I have no clue what is in that trust that I have now inherited."

I have no clue how the trusts work. My father took care of everything, making sure I had everything I needed. Now, I have no clue how much money is sitting in my name or what to do with it.

I know there is land, estates, and God knows what at my disposal. My father never prepared me for financial things; he prepared me for hosting banquets and talking to world leaders.

"Baby, I didn't ask if you would pay. I asked if you wanted to look at it and discuss it."

"We can," I agree, "But I don't want our homes to be a part of the royal estates or trusts."

"As you wish," Harry nods, "I will send you what I found. Look for something you want. I am going back to work." Harry steps away from the fence, beginning to walk away from me.

"Harry," I call his name, and he turns around to look at me, "Are you sure we are okay?"

Harry nods his head and steps closer to me, "Yes. I am going to work. I love you. But before I go," Harry leans closer, "There's a hidden trust; you might want to find it." Finally, Harry whispers before he kisses my cheek and shuffles away, leaving me alone near the stables.

As much as he says we are okay, there's a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. No matter what, I am not going to like the idea of Harry and Matthew doing what they are doing. When I was in an emotional rage, of course, I wanted them to avenge my father's murderer, but not I want them both safe. I know they are knowledgeable and highly trained men, but I don't want the wrong person to find out what they are doing and turn the tables. Likewise, I don't want Harry getting caught up in anything more than what he already has.

♛ ♛ ♛

With Harry being tied to me, he is at a greater risk than he was beforehand. I don't think he quite understands, but I need to trust that he knows what he is doing.

I convene at my desk, carrying on my day of signing documents, writing letters, organising the royal tour with my assistant and doing my best to come up with ideas for the charities I represent.

On top of everything, I also have the task of discovering more about the armed forces. As the Queen, I can declare war and peace under the Royal Prerogatives, meaning I must stay updated with all foreign affairs. This type of pressure is something I do not want. If there is anything, my father was best at understanding his troops and knowing what to do in every situation. My father may not have been the most beneficial at opening charity events or attaining the right charities to represent. Still, his military was at the top of his priority list. I can only assume his devotion is due to him being a military member himself.

My father served in the forces before I was born. I must continue his work and devotion to the troops, not just as Queen but also as his daughter. With each day that crosses, the list of things I need to tend to is getting more comprehensive, adding pressure to my shoulders. I am drowning in the depths of the royal monarchy.

I glance towards Estelle and hit my pen on the paper in front of me, "Estelle," I distract her from the letters she is sorting through, "Will you get me the report of the day's parliamentary proceedings and find me someone who knows something about the military... Who helped my father?"

"Your Majesty, Prince Louis was the one who helped him the most."

"Great, tell him I want him in my office, please," I smile towards her, "I don't care if he is busy with Madeleine."

Estelle chuckles and nods her head, "I will, and I will get you the report," she responds, standing from her position and marching out of my office, leaving me alone for the first time today.

I take a moment to adjust my task from royal duties to hunting for a property that will not be associated with the royal family-- something that will be mine and Harry's. I explore the internet, unsure of what I am looking for. All I genuinely recognise is I want something homey, something that isn't just four walls and a roof, something that will be a nice escape from a life that I have never wanted. I want a small, cosy place where I won't have to worry whether staff will be watching or if the security cameras are on. I want something ordinary, maybe something with a vegetable patch or a small garden for me to look after. I don't want anything substantial.

"Ah, Anna, my darling friend," Louis enters my office with his arms spread out with an extensive grin across his face, "This better be good because I was-- Well, nevermind what I was doing," Louis trails off with a shit-eating grin, prompting me to shake my head.

"I don't even want to know, Louis," I screw my nose up at the possible thoughts of what he was up to. "I need some help."

"You're beyond help."

"Oi," I laugh, "If I wanted a smartass, I would have summoned Harry."

Louis nods his head, "I would say he is more of the prick than a smartass," Louis laughs, "He is a prick but also a standup guy."

"I didn't call you in here to discuss Harry. I need some help with this military stuff," I gesture towards the paperwork on my desk, "I don't know the first thing about this. You were my Dad's second hand."

Louis moans and slumps down in the chair beside me, "That is privileged information, and so is whatever I tell you, so what is in it for me?" Louis questions, holding the papers in his hands and flicking through them.

"Well," I begin, "I will let you continue staying at the Palace rent-free while you screw my other friend," I respond with a smirk, "And I will keep your secrets about what you do in the rooms that you are not meant to be in."

Louis stares at me with his lips wide apart, "Yeah, my husband is second in commands with security, and he watches the cameras. So he views every dirty thing you have done between events."

"Bloody Harry," Louis shakes his head, "Okay, well, since the cat is out of the bag, I shall help," Louis accepts, taking my laptop and commencing to take control over the word document, typing away and explaining as he goes. "Before I get too deep into this, who else knows about the shenanigans I have done?"

"Just Harry, he turns the camera's off to shield your dignity."

Louis shrugs his shoulders, "Hm, good man," Louis nods, "So, I-"

I cut him off, "So you should continue to help me unless you want Harry to stop hiding your sex tapes."

"Ouch, that is so dirty. They're not sex tapes, Anastasia. I was hoping you wouldn't act like I haven't seen you and Harry sneak off."

"So, the military," I change the subject, gesturing towards my laptop, "You type and explain," I command, not wanting to address private matters any further, he may be my best guy friend, but we do not discuss these things when the Palace staff can hear us.

I glance up from the desk and recognise Pippa waltzing in with papers in her hands. Pippa grants me a smile and stares towards Louis, "What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too, Cruella de Vil," Louis mutters.

Pippa places the papers in her hand on my desk, not breaking her gaze from Prince Louis, "The thing is, I was born brilliant, born bad, and a little bit mad. I'm Cruella. So don't piss me off." She recites a line from the real Cruella.

"Oh, you bring shivers to my spine; how will I ever sleep at night?" Louis leans back in his chair, amused by the banter.

"On a bed of nails with any luck," Pippa mutters, "I need you to sign these," Pippa pushes the papers towards me, "Parliament needs to be opened."

I nod my head and bring the papers closer to me, and Louis takes them from me, "So, do you plan to let me be reinstated in Parliament or are you still banishing me?" Louis questions, taking me by surprise.

When was Louis part of Parliament to begin with?

"Louis, darling, you're not fit to be in Parliament. We have been through this."

"No," Louis shakes his head, "You have been through this. I suggest you let me in."

"And I suggest that you sit down. Little boys should be seen and not heard."

"Pippa," I scold, "He is still a Prince. You will show respect," I inform Pippa, reminding her of her position. Pippa may be prime minister, but she still has an obligation to respect all royal members. "I will open parliament when I am ready."

"Anna, I don't need to remind you of the symbolism of the unity of Parliament's three parts."

I heavily groan and nod my head, "Yes, the Sovereign, the House of Lords and the House of Commons. I know, I am not a moron, as I said, I will open it when I am ready, Pippa."

"I suggest you make a wise decision and open it sooner rather than later."

"Pippa," I begin, "I will force the dissolution of Parliament through a refusal of royal assent if you don't leave me alone." I threaten her, not wanting to open Parliament until I know what I want to do. I do not wish to open Parliament with the members I currently have.

"You cannot do that alone," Pippa shakes her head, "So, sign and open."

Harry descends into the room, and I perceive him wander closer, his eyes staring at Pippa from behind as I begin to speak, "Pippa, all due respect, but I will do it when I am ready."

Pippa has no desire to take my word.

Louis clears his throat, "Cruella, she has told you she will do it when she is ready."

"Better men have called me worse things," Pippa returns bitterly.

"I doubt that they were better men," Harry interrupts the small feud that is happening in my office, "Now, I suggest you curtsey to the Queen and walk out." Harry advances forward as Pippa turns around to observe him. "Don't look at me like that. Your stare doesn't scare me."

"It ought to."

"It doesn't," Harry responds, "Now, get out. I want to speak to my wife."

"Your wife is busy."

"Pippa," Harry settles himself, taking a breath and closing his eyes for a brief moment, "Sometimes dead is better, you know a little something about that, don't you?" Then, Harry questions, "Now, if you don't get out, you will find yourself with Henry."

"Is that a threat, Harry?"

Harry shakes his head, "No, merely a comment, now walk," Harry points towards the door.

Pippa doesn't speak, and she keeps her lips tight as she half curtseys to me and begins to make her way to the door.

"Oh, so him she listens to," Louis mutters, crossing his arms over his chest.

Pippa glances over her shoulder, "He has the power to kill me, and he's better looking," Pippa responds, waving her hand and walking out of my office.

I stare at Louis and Harry before I shake my head, unsure of what just happened in my office. "Harry, my best pal." Louis grins, his cheery tone not working magic on Harry.

"What do you want?" Harry sighs, walking around the desk and coming towards me, leaving a kiss to the top of my head before he leans on my desk.

"Pippa seems to be scared of you, and I want to be back in parliament, make it happen."

Harry shakes his head, "I can't, I have no power over Parliament if I did… Well," Harry pauses, "Nevermind, I won't finish my sentence."

Louis pauses for a moment, looking towards me for help, but I don't intervene. I had no clue Louis wanted to be a part of political matters. "You're King, and you have just as much power as Anna."

"Sure, Louis, run in parliament, I don't give a damn," Harry responds, his tone of voice coming across as agitated.

"You're a bit hostile," I point out, regarding Harry's tone of voice and the way his mood hasn't changed since Pippa marched out. "What has you all rattled?"

"Is he not always hostile?" Louis chuckles, causing Harry to break a small smile.

Finally.

"I am," Harry nods, "I don't feel the best, and Pippa irks my nerves. Can we please get rid of her?"

Louis looks back down at the paperwork Pippa wants me to sign, "Since you have the means to kill her, why don't you? Do us all a favour."

"Oi," I interrupt the two men, "That is not how we speak around here. We do not condone murder. We have had enough murder."

"We can discuss a plan later," Louis shakes his head. "When she isn't around," Louis gestures towards me.

"Mhm," Harry hums, "You were so sweet when I first met you. So what the fuck happened?"

"He hung out with you," I murmur while Harry moves a few things around on my desk, purposely making sure they are not in their proper position. I don't know why Harry enjoys rearranging my desk.

"Anyway," Harry begins, "I came here to tell you that it isn't a good idea to open Parliament right now. I would recommend you don't listen to Pippa."… "With that being said, I am going to go lay down before I have to escort your mother through the tunnels."

"What do you know?" I instantly ask.

Harry shrugs, "She wants it open to try and gain more control. Goodbye, Louis. Goodbye, darling," Harry kisses my cheek before stepping away from my desk, not giving me much more detail to work with.

I wake up to a refreshing breeze tapping my skin that the soft sheets haven't covered.

When I finished my impromptu meeting with Louis, Harry wasn't back home; he was still on my mother's service. I am not sure where they went or what they were doing— all I know is that when Harry came home, he collapsed to the bed and fell asleep, barely managing to mumble a Goodnight to me.

I stretch my arm over to Harry's side, surprised when I notice it empty. I sit up in the bed and glance around, my eyes settling on the white balcony curtains whirling with the inadequate breeze. I get out of bed and follow the draft. My hand pushes the sheer white curtains to the side, and I step out on the balcony.

The early morning air is a little crisp for my liking, but it's soothing. The breeze drifts through my hair, the summery feeling still evident as another day of June will wake in a few hours. I cross my hands over my chest, shielding myself from the light breeze.

"Waking up alone is getting old," I softly make Harry aware of my presence, and he turns to gaze at me.

"Hey, why are you awake?" He asks, his voice low and flat, his arm resting in an L shape.

"I'm not sure. Are you getting ready to go to work?" I ask, considering it's around the time he obliges to start getting ready. His hours are all over the place, and I can never keep track. I rarely wake up to him still in bed.

Harry shakes his head, "I don't feel too well."… "The pain is getting worse." His voice is flat and laced with pain he’s trying to hide.

"In your shoulder?" I softly challenge, and Harry nods his head just as enough light touches his face for me to recognise the fullness of his eyes and most of the colour drained from his face. "Go sit down, and I'll be right back," I instruct as I step back into the room and grab a robe.

I wrap the robe around me and exit my room. The door closes behind me, and I look both ways of the hallway, stopping when I recognise Matthew with his arms crossed and his figure stepping closer to me.

"Where exactly are you planning to go?" He questions.

"I need an ice pack or two. Will you accompany me?" I softly request, already knowing the answer. There's no chance of Matthew allowing me to walk around at this hour by myself.

Matthew and I wander the hushed hallways, passing closed doors and darkened rooms. The Palace at this hour is quite eerie. There's no staff bustling around, and if there is, there's very few of them. Everyone is mostly asleep. The only people awake are the security team and the kitchen staff, who get up early to prepare for the day. "Do you ever sleep, Matthew?"

Matthew laughs and shrugs his shoulders, "On occasions, Her Majesty."

"Why must you address me formally?" I groan, nudging him as we progress to walk back to my room.

"You are the Queen."

"My name is Anastasia," I correct Matthew. "So, when are we letting my husband take over as head of security?" I half-heartedly joke, wanting to proceed with the walk with conversation and not silence.

"Perhaps, when I retire," Matthew responds, "Thought you wanted him out of the security business?"

I shrug my shoulders, "I do, but I know he wants to work, so who am I to stand in his way?"

"He's good at what he does. Best worker I've had in my entire career."

"Mhm," I hum, "So, how much closer are we to finding my fathers murderer?"

"Anna, I will not discuss that with you," Matthew shakes his head, "On a rare occasion, I made a deal with Harry. I promised him I wouldn't tell you."

"Go figure," I roll my eyes, "I just want to be in the loop."

"You know enough, focus on running the monarchy and let me and him do our job," Matthew presses in a polite manner. No matter how hard I press, I don't foresee Matthew or Harry giving me too much information.

I am sure they have leads and their suspicions, and I am sure they can prove who killed who, but I want to know.

While walking back, I think about Louis. He told me earlier that he had the opportunity to be in Parliament and was running until Pippa knocked him down. After that, Pippa refused to let him be in the office, and my father agreed with her, stating he was too young to be playing in the business.

I don't think Pippa declined him and banished him for his age, but more so because she knew he would not be on her side. Louis joined the political party, but Pippa refused to let him stay on.

He was forced into his royal duties since Pippa refused his entry into Parliament.

Louis' life is a bit complicated. He isn't a royal on standard terms. Louis' parents are royals of the Kingdom of Sweden. He will never become a King; he is a very distant Prince, around tenth in line for the throne. He will only ascend the throne on the death of the entire family. Despite being born a Prince, Louis was not born in Sweden. He was born in the United Kingdom, therefore making him a citizen here.

Due to my father's tight ties with Sweden, they agreed to allow Louis to represent both countries as he got older. When Louis turned eighteen, he kept his title as Prince but showed his dedication to upholding both ties, wanting to be a part of the British notions. My father agreed, taking him under his wing. Louis spent most of his childhood here with me. At the time, I am sure our parents thought we would grow up to get married. Instead, I married a commoner, and he is dating an heir to the throne. Madeleine will ascend the throne on her mother's death; she will become the Queen of Denmark.

Louis wants to regain his role in Parliament, and I think he would be exceptional, but I don't believe Pippa will allow it. She will fight me tooth and nail, and I don't want to fight her on more issues. Louis will have to find a way to enter Parliament. Perhaps Harry can help him figure something out.

📷

I move into my room and close the door behind me, surprised when I don't recognise Harry on the balcony or in the bed. I follow the dim light to the bathroom and locate Harry leaning over the sink with the water running and his arm in an L shaped being held by his hand.

"What happened?"

"I moved my shoulder the wrong way, and the pain… fuck, the pain was so bad it had me throwing up," Harry breathes out, "Go back to bed, I'll be fine."

"I'm not going back to bed," I respond, caressing my hand to his back and rubbing soothing circles, "Do you want me to call the doctor up here?" I offer, clutching a face towel and running it under the water before holding it to his forehead.

"I don't think she can do anything."

"She can give you something for the pain," I suggest, dabbing his reddened cheeks and shifting away from a few stray and fallen curls from his forehead, "How long has it been like this?"

"It has been getting progressively worse over the last month. I can't move my shoulder much," Harry confesses.

"You've been lying to me."

"I didn't want you to worry," Harry responds, "I'm okay, really, please go back to bed." Harry leans away from the face towel and gestures towards the bedroom, still cradling his arm.

Harry and I step into the bedroom, and he sits on the edge of the bed with a groan. I grab the ice packs I ventured out to get, and I gingerly sit beside him on the bed. "It's going to be cold, but it'll help with the pain," I inform Harry.

"Anna, please don't touch my shoulder, I'm begging. I can't handle more pain."

"It won't be painful. It's just a cold pack," I assure Harry, holding the cold pack to his shoulder ever so gently. Harry instantly lets out a breath and bows his head. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Been a bit busy," Harry responds, "Don't have time for this. Have the Ascott coming up and your royal tour."

"Well, you're going to have to make time," I sigh, holding the ice pack in place. "How are you feeling?"

"I am wonderful," Harry sarcastically responds, "Never felt better."

"No need for sarcasm," I mutter, rubbing his lower back while he takes a few deep breaths.

Harry has never been one to complain. On the contrary, he has barely missed a day of work since he began working at the Palace; even when he is sick, he has always showed up and done his best.

The royal doctor steps into the room and looks at me, "You look fine?" She challenges, scanning me up and down. I shake my head and gesture to Harry on the bed.

It is a change of events. For once, it isn't me calling for her to assist me; it is him.

"I am guessing you didn't follow up post-surgery, huh?" she questions, stepping towards Harry and bending down to kneel beside the bed.

Harry grunts and shakes his head, not bothering to defend himself. I had no clue things were this bad with his shoulder. I was under the impression the surgery went well, and he was on the road to a full recovery. He didn't show too many signs of pain until just recently. The doctor begins to check his vitals before taking a breath and touching his shoulder, putting pressure on him just enough to cause him to hiss. "I barely touched you," she defends, "Can you lift your arm?"

"If I could, do you think you would be here?" Harry snarls, letting out a heavy breath before apologising for his tone of voice.

"I am not going to stand here and waste time, and I am calling for you to go to the Hospital. I'll call for an ambulance."

"No," Harry shakes his head, "I can drive."

"Not a chance," the doctor shakes her head, "I know you are aware of what protocol is, and this is my protocol. You need surgery, and you're getting it, now," she informs him, taking her phone from her pocket and unlocking it. Harry groans in the background and continues to shake his head. He disputes the idea of an ambulance, arguing until we agree to find another way to get him to where he needs to be.

He's pretty stubborn, but I understand why he doesn't want an ambulance. He doesn't want attention drawn to him and doesn't believe he needs to take an ambulance from someone else when he is in perfect condition to wait.

♛ ♛ ♛

I remain in the hospital room with Matthew, both remaining in silence and staring at the oblique walls. At four in the morning, there isn't much to do or say. Against Harry's wishes, we brought him to King Edward VII's Hospital; he refused to be taken by ambulance, so we compromised and took him to the private Hospital by a car Matthew drove. He had exactly two minutes to sign medical papers before he was whisked off to surgery.

The Hospital is modest, with 56 beds and boasting more than four nurses to every patient. The Hospital has been in the family for decades. The Hospital was established in 1899 to treat injured soldiers fighting in the Second World War.

Just down the corridor from reception is the well-stocked library. It baffles me that there is such an extensive library, but others may want to read while waiting in anticipation. I don't want to read a novel about a love story, science or really anything. I want to be told that the surgery went well and Harry is okay.

I hear my phone go off, and I ignore it, continuing to stare at the walls, my foot tapping against the floor.

Ding, Ding, Ding.

I tiredly grab my phone, the dinging sounding every second causing me to glance towards Matthew. Matthew raises a brow, the irritating noise also coming from his phone.

I blink a few times at my screen, "You've got to be kidding me," I sigh profoundly, reading the banner on my phone that displays breaking news. "How? How does anyone know?" I immediately ask, clicking the link and beginning to read the article.

"Breaking news, on the advice of the Royal Highness's Doctor, one of Britain's royal members has been taken to Hospital. It is unknown which royal has been rushed in. The unknown monarch was taken by private car to King Edward VII Hospital in London.

All official engagements for this week, including the Queen's trip to Rome, will more than likely be postponed. The Queen is likely not to attend the Ascott. More information to come soon."

I glance towards Matthew, who shakes his head before he taps the phone screen and touches it to his ear. "I need Police officers to guard the entrance of King Edward VII Hospital, now." Matthew speaks into his phone, "And I need two guards at the entrance of room 15." Matthew ends the call and peers towards me, "Either someone saw us, or there is a palace snitch."

"What do we do?"

"Good question," Matthew bites on his lip as he operates his fingers through his hair. "I uh... I do not know. It is your decision... What should we tell the press?"

"It is none of their business. Harry is a private man."

Matthew nods, "He won't be too happy if we release his name."

"Can we say the articles are fake?"

"There are pictures…" Matthew shakes his head, "I'll think of something, don't stress over it. I'll handle it."

"Okay," I agree, "What do I do about a snitch? I don't want a snitch in my Palace."

"I will handle it. But, unfortunately, there are a few new guys who Harry and I didn't trust."… "Do I have permission to fire anyone I deem unfit?"

"Be my guest," I agree, putting my phone down.

I do not want my trust broken within my Palace. I should trust that all staff will keep their lips tightly sealed when it comes to private matters.

Harry will be pissed to find out that the media have written about this.

If there is a snake in my Palace, I will not allow them to get away with speaking to the press. Over the years, staff have been known to sell stories to the media for the right price. It drove my Father insane, but sometimes he understood the circumstances. As much as the staff are paid as well, there have been times during the years that the staff have not received enough to make ends meet.

♛ ♛ ♛

Harry and I relax on the balcony overlooking the beautiful garden behind the hospital, both of us taking the time to inhale the morning air and watch the gardens come to life as the sun continues to rise. Harry has a light blanket draped around his shoulders while in a shoulder sling to stop him from moving his shoulder too much. He looks miserable, but he isn't in as much unbearable pain that he was in and throwing up.

His free hand holds his cup of orange juice, and he screws his nose up with every drink he takes. "It isn't coffee," Harry huffs, "A little coffee won't hurt."

"You're on morphine, no," I shake my head, leaning back on my chair and enjoying the quiet morning.

"Fair point," Harry sighs, "Your first Royal tour is coming up. How do you feel about that?"

"Why are you making small talk?" I curiously ask, "You're meant to be sleeping."

"Hasn't fully kicked in yet," Harry answers, "I'm asking because I'm not going to be able to make it for the first part of your Royal tour."

I grow quiet, well aware that there's a good chance he won't be on tour with me. However, I had an idea after the events of the last few hours. Harry being in as much pain as he is in can only mean one thing— his surgery wasn't successful, and he will need another.

I have no desire to do the tour alone, I want him with me, but it isn't his fault. There comes a time I have to be a big girl and do what Queens do— keep moving forward.

I can do it on my own; I do not need him. I want him. I know the difference.

"I know," I softly sigh, "I suppose I'll think of something."

"I'm sorry, Anna."

"I know, I heard from the doctor… it was crucial to get it fixed," I remind him of the words she told him. She was very blunt with telling him.

"I don't think I can physically go; they're not going to let me. They want to do another surgery in a few days to fix the last part." Harry begins.

"I don't want you to push it back. I'll be fine. I've done tours before. I'm sure this will go smoothly. And maybe you'll be able to meet me for the last part of the tour?" I ask, and Harry nods his head.

"I'll do my best if I ever make it out of this hell hole."

"It isn't that bad," I glance over at him, and he raises a brow, disagreeing with me.

Harry cocks his head to the side, "Darling, if you weren't here, I'd be staring at the wall. But, unfortunately, all they have for entertainment are books."

"Well, you love to read."

"Not when I'm in pain and can barely see from my meds."

"Makes it even more fun," I joke, gently nudging him, "Do you want to go to the Palace? They might release you."

"Baby, they're not going to let me go until I have my last surgery. Then, according to them, I'm at flight risk of not coming back," Harry laughs, "And they're right, that's why I'm in this position because I didn't listen."

"You never listen," I respond, "Well, once your surgery is done, we can have you taken to the palace and have you cared for there."

"Can you be my nurse?"

I shake my head, "No, you have a smirk on your lips, which means one thing."

"Oh, come on," Harry whines, "I need a little TLC."

"You get enough TLC." I chuckle, shaking my head, "You're getting sleepy. Back inside, you go," I gesture inside, standing to my feet and holding his arm as he stands up as well.

[misskittysmagicportal]

I’m A Creep

Fandom: The Messenger Jack x Rin Davies

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: suicide discussion, oral sex, penetration, mention of masturbation, angsty whomp because OOOOF is Jack a Whomp!character

Note: The events of this fic contain spoilers for those of you who havent seen The Messenger.  It takes place after the end of the movie.  Read at your own risk if you haven’t seen it!  If you want it’s free on Tubi :)

Present Day:

Jack stood beside Rin in the dead of night watching her sleep for just a moment. Only a moment because she roused the instant she sensed him breathe. Sitting up, she quickly reached inside the nightstand. He knew her routine, Rin was impulsive about making sure her leather motorcycle gloves were on before she let him in.

Jack wordlessly pulled his shirt over his head and stepped out of his sweatpants and boxers. 

Rin lifted her covers and opened her legs to him. Obliging, Jack lowered himself onto her showering her neck with kisses. His tongue and lips trailing down along her collarbone, erection hard against her thigh. A hand found its way under Rin’s t-shirt and over a naked breast where he pinched at a nipple. 

“Jack,” she was breathless. “Stop. Don't touch my skin, please.”

Jack pushed himself up by the arms, “How is this enjoyable to you, duck?” A northern term of endearment. “My thighs ah touchin’ you aren't they?” The moonlight caught his eyes as he teased her with the head of his cock. “What about this, inside you?” Suggestively whispered. 

Rin moaned but held her cool. “It’s not the same. Like you said, that's inside. It's just my.. skin. From my..” her voice trailed off. 

“Would it be so bad? I just want to feel you under me without fuckkin clothes.” Jack took a chance and kissed her. Tongue pushing inside of Rin, but she stiffened. “Sweetheart,” now he whispered, just his fingertips brushed her cheek. “Please, love, just touch me”

--------

Several Weeks Before:

Rin sat alone at a center table in the middle of the visitation room.  This wasn’t her first rodeo, probably won’t be her last.  She flexed her hands outwards the leather of her gloves cracking and flexing in a satisfying manner.  No one was going to come and see her. Besides, the solitude allowed her to quietly spy on all the other nutters around the room.

Just to her left Rin noticed a pretty redheaded woman and her son as they sat across from probably the most attractive guy ever in an institution.  There was a tenseness to the way he sat, shoulders hunched and hands between his legs.  His hair unruly and a blank stare that wasn’t really focusing on- she came to realize-  his sister and nephew.  Rin knew him from group therapy where he was equally quiet, eyes glassy from a psych med cocktail.  The majority of his speaking hours tucked away in that overbearing therapist’s office.  

“Jack, will you please just look at me?” his sister, Emma tried her best to reach out to her brother. “I.. I think Martin and I made a mistake.” 

Jack only stared straight ahead between Emma and his nephew, Billy. The preteen looked uncomfortable and scared as his mother nudged him softly. “It's ok. Billy tell Uncle Jack.” 

“I did, Mom” , his voice quiet. “I'm supposed to say no. That you should get me help before it's too late.”  Rin watched as Billy folded his arms and laid his head down. “Only I can't. It's all night and day, Jack. I can't sleep because they don't have you.” 

“Best leave him here with me then, Emma.” It was the first time anyone heard Jack speak in weeks. His sister had a posh accent, so Rin was surprised when Yorkshire dripped from his lips. “For good, right?” 

“That's not fair. You are sick, Jack.  You weren't caring for yourself. You.. you got too involved with that murder. You were hurting yourself,” Emma struggled with tears. “I want to take you home.”

“Oh like I'm some kind of fookin dog? Emma you and Martin made it clear I belong here. She's right, maybe it was all dad. That's traumatic you know.” 

“You deserve someplace warm! A home. Please, Jack. I found this in your things.” She slid a newspaper clipping towards her brother. “That's the boy who drowned. Why.. why didn't you tell me?” 

“Loads of kids drown in pools,” Jack stated bluntly with a shrug. “Why should your pool be any different?” 

“I never said it was our pool.” 

“I recognized the address in the article”

“Jack, it's from two years ago.” 

“I got lucky. Ah we doon here? I have walls to stare at. Here Billy you can have this back,” from between his knees he produced a glass paperweight with a scorpion inside. “Tell all ya mates Crazy Uncle Jack sends his loov” 

Jack tried to stand but Emma grabbed his arm. This was Rin’s cue to swoop in. She swiftly moved from her table to theirs. 

“JACKIE!’ I've been looking for you everywhere!” His eyes panicking in her direction. “I'm Wren,” she took her glove off and reached a scarred hand in Emma's direction. “But my brother couldn't say it so you can call me Rin” She smiled brightly. 

Emma tentatively shook Rin’s hand, smiling in turn.  Rin took a moment as her mind’s eye zoned in on what was inside of Jack’s sister.  It was a loneliness, a desperation to take care of her little brother but protect her son from the same fate.  But most importantly Rin felt a small tingling of warmth from somewhere deep inside of Emma’s heart.  It was white and pure and instantly recognizable as hope.  Even though it was tiny it was growing and starting to spread, and Rin knew Emma was eager to share that with her brother.

“Wow,” Rin blurted, “I wish my brother was as invested in me as you are.  You’re a good person, Emma.  Trust me,” she winked.  “Woman’s intuition.”

Emma narrowed her eyes and studied the crazed looking woman standing between her and Jack.  The scars on Rin’s hand raised some alarms, but Emma ignored them.  She omitted a relief and let go, “Well thank you.  Can you talk some sense into my brother?”

Moments later, with the visitors gone, Rin sat down in Emma’s place.  “Thank you is a start,” she teased Jack. 

He rolled his eyes and slowly turned in her direction to face her dead on.  The intensity of his eyes took Rin by surprise.  “Thank you,” the sarcasm poured like a waterfall.

Rin took off her other glove.  “Now, Mr-”

“Jack is fine.”

“Jack.  Tell me,” Rin feigned a German accent, “Und why do zey sink you are crazy.”   

He blinked slowly.

“You got sectioned.  What bullshit excuse did they force you to believe?  Because it seems like Lovely Emma is desperate to get you out, and we know how hard that is.”

Jack took an impossibly deep breath, “Schizo-effective disorder with some dissociation, post traumatic stress disorder, non-suicidal self injury disorder and depression.”

“Fuck me, that's a trail mix of bonkers. Now ask me” 

Jack closed his eyes. They were shut for so long that Rin was certain he had fallen asleep having given in to his meds. His hunched, thin body sort of folded a bit in on itself. A moment of possible self-soothing when he started to sway. 

“Jack?” Rin's tone fell quietly with concern. She poke his arm carefully avoiding touching the skin. “Darling what cocktail did these quacks put you on.” She was an expert after all these years; if the drugs were working, no way would he be this much of a zombie.

Green blank eyes hidden behind enviable eyelashes attempted to focus “Seroquel. Clozapine?” His words start to slur a bit. “Fine. How fucking barmy are you?”

“Well,”  the young woman softened, “I have suicidal ideations with self-injury tendencies myself, severe clinical depression, a bit of the old borderline personality disorder and wait for it..”  she practically whispered a few inches from Jack’s face, “total emotional attachment to partners.”  

The skin around Jack’s eyes crinkled as he squinted just enough to indicate his hazed brain was trying to process everything Rin just unloaded. His lips parted to speak but he paused resulting in a gobsmacked expression.  “You’re barking.”

“Says the sexy scarecrow with journo clippings of dead boys.”  Rin pursed her lips and crossed her arms, “Why are you really in here Jack.”

“I’m fucking mad.” It was matter of fact.

“To quote the Cheshire Cat, we’re all mad here, love.  Look at me,” she held her hands aloft to display gnarled and prominent scars covering both hands in their entirety.  “I developed a gift or two by primary school.  See I can touch a person, and I know what they are feeling.  Except it.. It goes deeper than that.  I can PICTURE their true selves.  It’s a bit overstimulating, but no one can lie to me.  Not really.  Doesn’t do much for my sex life.  Or lack of one really.  Honestly, you put a cock in your mouth only to find out the guy you’re with is fantasizing about slitting your throat and wanking in your blood.”

Jack shook his head, “Jesus christ.”

“Well yes! My parents were religious zealots, right?  They got wind of my gifts.  Tried to use me in the church, but I rebelled.  Long story short, darling Mumsy and Papa decided if they may be stuck my hands in boiling grease I wouldn’t be able to use it anymore.  It’s not in my hands though.  It’s in my skin,” Rin smiled almost pleasantly. “Sometimes I get a bit over the edge.  I stop shielding myself from the pure air around folks, I suffocate in it.  Then,” now she held out her wrists, “I have my little accidents.”

Jack’s mouth hung agape.  His brows furrowed in confusion, “You are off you’re fucking nut.”

“That’s all relative.  Now, you can tell me why they REALLY sectioned you.  What power or ability are they masquerading as mental illness, or I can find out my way.”  Rin shrugged. 

“Why the fuck do you care?  I’m sleeping at night.  I have food and a bed and a shower.”

“Und electro-shock zerapy, und coma inducing psychopharmaceuticals, und most importantly you has lost your voice und a chance to harness your ability correctly.”  that mock German accent again.  “You shouldn’t be here, Jack.  Emma certainly doesn’t think so, and neither do I.  You’re special.  Or that bitch shrink wouldn’t have made you the living dead.”

Jack snorted followed by a rather loud.  “Just fuck off. Fuck off.  Fuck off.  FUCK OFF!” he screamed in Rin’s face.  Not once did she flinch, arms crossed again in a challenge. Disgusted by her, Jack kept bellowing his words thick with anger and cotton from the meds, “I DON'T BELONG OUT THERE EITHER!  I DON'T BELONG IN HERE!  I DON’T FUCKING BELONG ANYWHERE. HE’S DEAD.  SHE’S DEAD.  EVERY SINGLE FUCKING ONE OF THE CUNTS IS DEAD!  DEAD DEAD DYING!  JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” 

He shot up out of the chair to leave, but Rin caught his large hand.  Skin to skin, hands so small together they barely covered just his one.  Instantly her body stiffened as she gasped for air.  Tears immediately stung her eyes as she crammed them shut.  There in her mind was just a large body of water.  Ocean waves crashed overhead as she sank far below the surface.  Dark, cold, horrifying that sensation of being drowned.  Rin choked on the last bit of oxygen in her lungs and started to suffocate.  The hand she held brought her mind’s eye around to opening under the water to see Jack floating near-motionless in front of her.  It took all of her strength to push against the tide towards him where she held his face in her hands.  Death and decay flashed above them, the dead peering down from boats just waiting for Jack to return to the surface.

Rin strained to convey that tiny bit of hope Emma had passed along to her earlier as she pressed her forehead into Jack’s in the icy deep.  There was no reason in particular that she was drawn to him.  Not in the hospital or here trying to save him from drowning slowly. Was he attractive, undoubtedly, but that wasn’t all or it. Maybe it was now that she knew he was a messenger, a harbinger of death.  That was itself a form of an empathic gift.  Or it was just compassion. 

Suddenly Jack’s eyes burst open.  In that languid way your body moves underwater, he pushed her away.  His arms and legs thrashed around in a panic as if he only just realized he was allowing this place to kill him.  There was an instant loss, and Rin’s inner self slammed into a brick wall.  The physical Jack had severed the connection between her body and his.  To resurface that suddenly forced Rin gulping in blessed oxygen that she never really lost.  It was an illusion, where the two of them had been.  He really had shoved her back though, she realized that now.  Storming out of the visitation center, Jack left Rin alone to cry.

--------

Several days later

Rin lounged against the wall outside of Jack’s room with her gloves firmly in place.  Patients weren’t SUPPOSED to fraternize outside of the common rooms, but Rin had been here a few times before.  She knew which orderlies and nurses to finess, and which to avoid.  In this case Jerry was the giant, affable St Bernard of a man that kept watch in this particular hallway.

“Wren back so soon?” he teased. “What are you doing hanging around the human handbook for the recently deceased?” 

“Delightful, Jer.  How is he?  I mean really.” Rin hooked her thumb in the direction of the room.

“Easiest patient I’ve dealt with on account of he rarely speaks, pops his meds and keeps to himself.  Gave us a bit of a row when he first got here, but I like the guy.  I don’t know what to believe though.  His sister’s been sniffing around administratives.”  The orderly shrugged his massive shoulders.  “Heard you took quite the piss on visitation day.”

“I didn’t take the piss!” 

“Did ya do your handsy thing,” Jerry made jazz hands.

Rin’s eyes almost rolled back in her head, but suddenly there was a figure in the doorway which caused her to jump.  “How about we don’t talk about the nutter like he isn’t 10 feet away and only 27 years old?” Jack insisted.  His arms crossed and shoulders sagged in their usual way.  

“Can we talk?”  

Before Jack could truly answer, Rin had already pushed past him and sat down on his bed.  His mouth hung somewhat agape before he eventually joined her.  Jack attempted to sit close, just for some human contact, but the young woman beside him shied away.

“Right,” a retort.  “You’ve started being just as bloody fucking annoying as they were.”

Startled, “Who?”

“You know those.. Schizo delusions I’m here for.”

“The dead?”

Jack’s green eyes narrowed and Rin knew there was a sarcastic remark just sitting there waiting to be released.  Instead he curled his posture as if he was trying to fold in on himself.  Make himself smaller, less noticeable.  “Dissociations sparked by my father’s suicide.”

“Psycho babble bullshit jargon.  Congratulations, you’ve become a parrot.”  Rin waved her hand, “Jack has anyone ever-.”  There was a hesitation.  

“Has anyone ever what? Go on, enlighten me then”

Rin started stripping her gloves off but thought better of it.  A sense of foreboding, of drowning and clutching her chest for hair flashed across her mind.  The loneliness emanated from Jack without her touch. That empathic conduction of her skin.  Reaching instead to place the soft leather against his cheek, her thumb brushed his bottom lip.  Her eyes searched for him in that moment where time stood still before a mouth replaced a thumb.  

To not only Rin’s surprise but his own, Jack didn’t recoil.  His body relaxed as instinct took hold. There was a fervor in hands that got tangled up in hair.  Tongues fought each other as arms made their way around bodies in an embrace.  They held one another tight, the desperation apparent.  

The spell broke when Jack laid Rin down on the bed and let his warm mouth trail down her neck. He was awkward and hungry like a teenager.  He fumbled around her chest to attempt massaging her breast. 

A snort came from Rin simply to hide the panic of rushing water when Jack’s lips came into contact with her skin.  Maybe hers found it easier to beg off that inner eye from opening, but now she didn’t have a choice.  They weren’t as deep with the surface just rippling only a few inches away.  

Before she started to lose oxygen again, Rin began to squirm.  “ Stop.  Please?”

Jack sat up and faced forward as if nothing had transpired.  His cheeks flushed and a hand tugged at his tee-shirt embarrassingly then stuffed between his legs. He blinked a few times as he breathing calmed. 

“I only came to ask you if anyone had ever shown you affection.  Held you.  Emma.. Emma”  Rin inhaled deeply as she forced Jack to hold her glove hand.  “I know she sort of longs to hug you.”  Back on his cheek to make him look at her. “Obviously I got my answer,” she laughed. 

Jack silently replied by pushing his forehead into Rin's.  They laid down again this time with their heads on his pillow legs and arms tangled up in each other. Jack nuzzled the edge of his nose into the skin behind her ear; her breath caught. Then the couple seemingly melted together.

“Jack you seem less-” fingers twisted up in his curls.

“Like a walking coma patient?” hand gripped the thick of her thigh.  Then reaching a shelf above Rin Jack seized one of those creepy glass paperweights housing a floating tarantula. Turning it over underneath to show a tiny white envelope. “I started hiding my meds. Pass them along to my sister when she visits.”

Just under the surface of the water, still struggling for air exploded before Rin's eyes. Perhaps she had passed something between Emma and Jack. Was it her own faith that was transmitted to him? That first touch that woke him up after all this time. 

The next few weeks became a game of trial and error. Of how little or much Rin and Jack could consume of each other.  Kissing was no longer an issue once the meds began to wear off, lips and tongues and mouths. It felt more like standing ankle deep in a bathtub. Warm and comforting; it was Jack that was overpowering.  

Eager to make up for a very long very lost amount of time. He stumbled along Rin's body uneasily because of how little clothing she removed at first. Not that he was in a rush to reveal what was underneath his oversized shirt and sweatpants. He wasn’t the one recoiling when the stimulation overwhelmed.  

“I'll take off my shirt. Touch me here, but where the fabric of my bra is. Tease the nipple with just your fingertips. No that's.. maybe under? Touch them. Oh God. Now your mouth. Right there.  Are you.. you took your shirt off too?” (She marveled at how defined, muscular Jack's body seemed despite his slight stature)   

Jack took initiative now and slid his fingers inside of Rin. He pumped them a few times guided by her ``Oh.. maybe you can touch me.. Do you feel.. It’s like a bud or a kernel.. Here let me.. It’s just right.. OH GOD.  Right like.. ”   And she would ride his hand and fingers that circled that bud.  

Rin would cry out in surprise.  Her body exploded in ecstasy. They weren't drowning anymore. Just swimming, bobbed under the water and surface. It was the sense-memory of suffocating, coupled with the dazzling pleasure of Jack's warm tongue as it teased her nipples, his strong fingers teasing her clit at the same time. His hot skin meshed with hers washed out by fear.  She apologized as they scrambled to arrange themselves. 

“Don't think I'm going anywhere for quite some time, my love.”  His words changed with the possessive my in lieu of the once meaningless sentiment. He would steal a chaste kiss from Rin whose cheeks flushed to match his own as he made that familiar adjustment between his legs.  In the future, Rin would come to him without a bra but reluctant to take her shirt off when Jack kept on never minding.

Jerry became an ally of sorts. He always had been on Rin's side after she read him her second section. It wasn't difficult to get him to believe in Jack's abilities. Staff has whispered down the corridors that Jack had suddenly found himself aware of a suicide attempt.  That dead reporter Emma mentioned, his fiancé had taken more pills than Rin ever fathomed any number of her attempts. (She had a flare for dramatics: slit wrists) Jerry mentioned Jack had a tantrum the likes of a toddler screaming the name Sarah whatever over and over, pounding his fists into his head to make whatever haunted him. Sure enough, this Sarah was found nearly having bled out and foaming at the mouth. 

“How would he even fucking know, poppet? Not unless Jack really was chatting up her dead fiancé “ As if that was all he needed, Jerry turned his back and caused distractions all the nights the Empath and her Beautiful Broken Man longed to be together.

It was stunning the way Jack learned to manipulate the system.  Only Rin, and reluctantly Jerry, knew he pocketed his meds.  Safely tucked away in those ugly arachnid globes in the pockets or purse of Billy and Emma.  He started talking more in group therapy and far less in private sessions.  Engaged in conversations with his sister and nephew, true ones that resulted in a simple smile or a laugh free from a facetious tone.  To the staff and doctors those fucking psychopharmeceuticals worked.  To Jack’s sister and nephew and whatever Rin was to him, there was a slowly lifting weight making the air around him lighter. Yet Rin kept her hands to herself.

More trial and error.  In the midst of fervent kisses, Rin took Jack in her hand.  A stroke or two was all she got in before he spasmed and came.  The mortification that flashed in his eyes as he curled in a fetal position between her and the wall while she whispered reassurances in his ear.  Touching him, caressing him and eventually taking him into her mouth became easier and longer with practice and patience.  

They laughed into each other’s mouths before Rin let her tongue trail down over his stomach. Anxiously Jack took off his pants and boxers, lying backwards.  He held the back of her head, moaned and twisted as she licked and sucked on him. His hips bucked and thrust upwards.  

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

Present Day, Again

“Would it be so bad? I just want to feel you under me without fuckin clothes.” Jack took a chance and kissed Rin. Tongue pushed inside of her, but she stiffened. “Sweetheart,” now he whispered,  just his fingertips brushed her cheek. “Please, love, just touch me?”

Rin took a moment to think.  He wasn’t drowning anymore.  She could push that old feeling out of her third eye and bury herself in new ones.  She took a hold of her shirt and tossed it on the floor.  She took the erection that twiced against her thigh and held it just outside of her pulsating and ready sex.  With hands that sunk into her vunerable skin, Jack buried himself inside of her. 

That fire from Emma all that time ago poured from Jack’s body into hers.  It pushed back the water as he pumped rhythmically into Rin.  Building into a frenzy quickly, his pelvis crashed into hers before she could really come around to what was happening.  It briefly conquered the fears from before; caused hot tears to spring to her eyes that flowed uncontrolled down her cheeks.

In his fervor, Jack noticed and bent to kiss them away.  The gesture she had made that first time, a thumb brushed across her cheek and lower lip as he slowed his pace. Wren,” he took to calling her that tentatively.  “What is it?”

Before she could answer, Jack became distracted by something in the corner of the room.  Eyes passed between Rin and whatever it was that she couldn’t fathom or see.  She took his chin and focused it on her as they crashed together and apart again in another wave of building friction. It was too late though, he had abruptly pulled out and away from her. 

“NO!  STOP!  LEAVE ME ALONE!  CAN’T I HAVE ONE MOMENT OF FUCKING HAPPINESS WITHOUT ONE OF YOU LOOMING OVER ME LIKE A FUCKING PERV.”  He used fists to beat out a rhythm on his temples as he scurried to the corner of his bed with knees up to his chest.  

In the frenzy, Rin had been knocked to the floor.  Jerry had rushed in, he was never too far away just in case.  In a whirlwind, he picked Rin up with one hand and with the other attempted to intervene between Jack's fists and his head.  What could either of them do?  If attention was drawn to the room, surely the doctors would realize Jack had gone unmedicated for weeks.  Jerry’s eyes wide gestured towards Rin’s hands.  She shook her head, but Jack carried on.  

“Go on Jenny Wren, there has to be something your hands can do.  I’ll lose my job and you’ll be separated.  They’ll put him back in the Zoo.”  He was already yanking her arms forward and trying to remove her gloves before she could consent.

Rin knew The Zoo. It being rooms that could be monitored with two way mirrors.  You got a bed and a blanket.  They controlled when the lights came on and when they turned them off.  No privilege, no real structure.  They fed you, bathed you, and gave you “playtime” when they said.  No matter how you suffered from mental illness no one deserved that. She would never forgive herself.

“JERRY LET ME DO IT MYSELF!”  Rin bellowed if only to out yell Jack and his fit.  “Make her go away!  LEAVE ME ALONE” he cried underneath her.  Her hands free, she flexed them a few times before joining Jack on the bed.  She clutched his forearms and struggled to get a grip enough to pull them away from self-harm.  “JACK!  YOU HAVE GOT TO FUCKING STOP, MY DARLING.”  She slid her hands over his temples before he could punch them anymore.  She used the heels of her palms and pressed.  

It was immediate, the way her mind opened to him.  This time he was floating along the tide in a boat surrounded by what Rin could only guess were dead people.  They grabbed and tugged on Jack’s clothes.   Rin sat on the other side from him between two oars; she used one to swat at the ghosts who tried to pull them back in.  But there, walking along the surface, was a beautiful young woman.  Blonde hair flowed in waves down her back.  Sarah.

“You said we would be together, Jack.”  She was angry.  “That’s what you told him when he warned you I overdosed.  I survived that attempt, but not the second one.  Where is he Jack?  Why isn’t he here waiting for me?”

Jack stood up and the boat began to dangerously rock. Rin took his hand and he squeezed it in return.  He bellowed at the dead woman, “YOU SURVIVED AND HE MOVED ON.  I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOU BEING FUCKING STUPID, SARAH.  WHAT I TOLD YOU WAS MEANT TO EASE YOUR GUILT.  HE LOVED YOU.  YOU WERE SO LOVED.  HE DIDN’T CARE ABOUT YOUR MISTAKES.  YOU HAVE TO LEAVE ME ALONE.  ALL OF YOU.  I’M FUCKING DONE.  MOVE ON.  GO SOMEWHERE ELSE.  I CAN’T BE THE ONLY ONE OF MY KIND.  AND FUCK OFF BILLY TOO, MATE.”

“Jack?”  Rin spoke softly.  The hands gripped her tight in place of him.  They started to pull her in with him because he was useless now.  He stood up to them for possibly the first time in twenty years.  They would take her instead then.  

Jack seized Rin’s body before she could go over in his place.  He held her fast and tight and shielded her from them.  “NO.  You don’t fucking get ANYONE I love.  Not Billy.  Not Emma.  Not Martin.  No Wren or Rin.  AND YOU DON’T FUCKING GET ME ANYMORE.”  He took the oar up in his free hand and swung it around the bodies in the water.  He jabbed it forward like a sword at Sarah still pacing the side of the boat.  “GO, SARAH.  HE’S WAITING FOR YOU.  I PROMISE THIS TIME”  Jack insisted and pleaded.

Then it was so silent it deafened both Jack and Rin as they clung to one another in the boat.  In a flash and explosion, they separated and landed back on the bed in the room in an institution.  Jerry panted and pawed at the two of them dazed and uncertain.  Jack blinked a handful of times with no recollection of what just took place in his head and Rin’s.  They never knew or remembered Rin had learned.

Jack scoured the room for any sign of Sarah or anyone else.  He rubbed his eyes a few times then sighed heavily.  “I.. I want to go back to my room now.”  It was matter of fact.  

Jerry nodded and helped him back into his clothes.  Jack stumbled a bit but managed to kiss Rin sweetly before being led away and down the hall.  Rin knew Jerry would probably give him something to help him sleep at least for the night and probably into tomorrow.  She was afraid Jack had woken up a second time.  Not just from his nightmare of the last twenty years, but whatever happened between them.  It was a price she had to pay sometimes when she helped.  There was something Rin longed to say earlier.  What made her cry was an ember somewhere deep inside of Jack that he had never experienced before.  For the first time in his life, he had hope.

[introvert-celeste]

su prompt: Bismuth trying to come to terms with Rose trying to flee the Diamonds and how this informed Rose's entire military strategy, in that she didn't want ANYONE to get hurt at all and the whole revolution expanded way out of what she might have originally planned?

HI, HELLO. Yes, I FINALLY finished this prompt, and it’s quite a bit longer than I had planned (I was aiming for >1000 words but *shrugs*). I’m not sure if this was exactly what you meant, but I chose to go a more personal route for this. Bismuth is torn by her feelings about Rose, the war, and her own actions and this is her trying to air these feelings out.

Bismuth stood on the warp pad for a moment as the light dissipated around her, determined and nervous in equal measures.

Rose’s fountain stood serenely in the shadows of the surrounding cliffs, silent save for the distant babbling of its healing waters. Under different circumstances, it could have been a peaceful retreat from the trials of daily life; to Bismuth and the countless gems who passed through its arches over the years, however, it was not so simple. This fountain was their saving grace, discussed in hushed whispers during the war lest their enemies learn of its miraculous properties, and in extension the legendary abilities of their leader. It was also a grim reminder, recalling its necessity in the intensifying rebellion. To Bismuth, it was a symbol of her devotion to a gem she thought she knew.

The gems of Little Homeworld scarcely ventured out to the fountain after they were healed of their corruption, treating it with the same respect as a sacred place. Since Steven hit the road, however, this was the only place that gems could reasonably travel to in order to heal any damage to their gemstones. One could find a small group gathered here on any given day, recovering and finding solace in the tranquil setting, but Bismuth was lucky enough to find it completely deserted.

In those three years following the healing, Bismuth had her own reasons for keeping her distance, and they all boiled down to her complicated feelings surrounding Rose. She was not ready to confront them. In the spirit of personal growth, however, she figured it was time to revisit those feelings.

As she walked the path toward one of the fountain’s four star-shaped entrances, she couldn’t help but feel a wave of nostalgia. She recalled the countless rotations she spent in this spot, carefully carving out what she considered one of her greatest works of architecture from mountainous terrain, using nothing but her own two hands.

As the fighting increased between the Crystal Gem rebels and Homeworld’s armies, so too did the casualties, and Bismuth was one of the few gems close enough to Rose to know that it was taking a serious toll on her. She remembered the crowds of rebels who would flock to her after every battle, barely holding themselves together as they waited for her soothing tears and comforting smile. She remembered the moment she realized that Rose was not, in fact, infallible when, after many days of healing, she found that she had no more tears to shed for the gems she could not bring back.

This fountain was one of Bismuth’s many gifts to her idol, her friend. Every stone in this place had been so lovingly crafted; she didn’t even know that it would work, and yet she worked so diligently so that, even in the midst of great tragedy, Rose could still find peace. Indeed, the immense relief on Rose’s face made it all worth it. As she stood at the top of the stairs, gazing at its magnificence, however, she struggled to recall that simple gratification.

Alongside Rose’s tears, Bismuth poured her heart and soul into this fountain, this planet, this cause. She laid her gem on Rose’s anvil because she trusted her. All of the Crystal Gems trusted her, found hope in her presence. Old, bitter tears burned at the corners of her eyes as she gazed at the towering statue before her, its arms outstretched, inviting all who entered the sanctuary into its stony embrace. Even as the artist, she wondered how she could just stand there so serenely, as if she wasn’t playing everyone for a fool. How dare she look so peaceful when her actions were actively hurting her own gems, on both sides of the war?

Rose Quartz. Pink Diamond. How ironic, that Bismuth would spend so much energy fighting against the Diamonds, only to learn that she had idolized one the whole time.

Still, approaching the base of the fountain, she felt some of that old devotion weigh on her, bringing her to her knees before one of the seated statues. She bowed, waited in earnest for Rose’s insistent voice urging her to rise, but it never came. When she raised her head, the statue didn’t so much as regard her, bearing the same impassive expression as its larger sister.

In that moment, she realized that she had never seen Rose with such a tranquil expression. There was always a storm behind her eyes, a storm that Bismuth always mistook as Rose’s inner fighting spirit. Turns out, it was just another façade.

“Been awhile, huh?” She said, her voice cutting through the still air.

The statue was, of course, silent.

Without thinking, Bismuth got up and seated herself beside it. She closed her eyes, feeling the presence of the statue. True to size, it almost felt as if they were here again in this place, sharing a pensive moment before heading back to the battlefield. The moment hurt more than Bismuth could even begin to describe.

There were a million things she wanted to say, so much pain she waited to offload onto this piece of stone, and yet when she opened her mouth to speak, the first thing that came out of her mouth was this:

“I pity you.”

And she felt it in the very core of her gem, at the very depths of her soul, she felt it. She pitied her as much as she pitied herself, and the Crystal Gems, and all the gems who had to fight in this gem-forsaken war. She pitied her with the same intensity that she worshipped the ground beneath her feet, those thousands of years ago. She wanted to hate her, and yet how could she, after she had invested so much of herself in loving her, as a leader, as a friend?

“You were in way over your head, and so was I,” was the next thing she said. “I wanted to fix a system that was too big and broken to fix, and you wanted to hide from it. In the process, we were doing exactly what we were made to do: you led; I followed…until I didn’t.” I guess it makes sense that you poofed me. Discipline for a gem who’s stepped out of line, she continued in her head, unwilling to speak this bitter thought into existence. Instead, she turned away from the statue, unwilling to face it anymore. “Sometimes, I still wish you woulda shattered me back then, so I could hate you properly now.”

Her breath hitched as the tears started to flow. “I wish I could hate you, so I wouldn’t have to think about the terrible things that I’ve done!”

Her voice echoed against the walls and the surrounding cliffs. The rose bushes—her rose bushes—rustled at the disturbance, the first time they acknowledged her presence since she got there. Steven had told her about them once, about how aimless and hostile they became without Rose’s guidance, but they never caused any trouble for as long as Bismuth had known of them. Sure enough, they stopped moving as quickly as they had started, and all was quiet once more.

It was almost a comfort, knowing that a piece of Rose was there, a passive listener to her deepest feelings, one that could easily pass its judgement onto her if it so chose.

“Yellow started healing shattered gems from the war a couple weeks ago. I bet you never expected that.” Bismuth continued evenly, grabbing control of her voice. “Did you know they were still on Earth? Did you know about the Cluster?” She sighed. “I guess it doesn’t matter now, but you were always so concerned about those shards. Crystal gems, Homeworld gems, they were all balled up together and stuffed in the planet’s mantle just so they can blow the planet up thousands of years later. I hope you didn’t know about all that.”

She was beating around the bush, and she knew it. That awful guilt that had been building inside her throughout those two weeks was becoming too much to bear. That was why she came here in the first place: to get this weight off her chest and finally air out that old resentment she still clung to, toward Rose, toward herself, toward the entire system that put them in this situation in the first place.

In her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of her reflection on the water, with the statue barely visible beside her. The curls of its hair were crafted so delicately, she could have sworn she saw them bounce in the gentle breeze. A great tangle of emotions moved her to action as she gazed at her face in the pale pink waters, slapping at it angrily.

“I can’t bear to even look ‘em in the eyes!” She sobbed, as a cascade of droplets rained down on the pair and their distorted images in the disturbed pool. “Those healed gems come to Little Homeworld because they don’t know what to do with themselves, and I don’t feel right telling them what to do! I don’t feel right because…”

She turned to the statue, her anguish overflowing.

“Because half the time I’m wondering ‘did I shatter this one?’”

She wanted comfort; she wanted punishment; she wanted something; but the statue was quiet, painfully quiet.

“Yeah, I’ve shattered gems, way more than I’d care to admit. I bet you didn’t know that.” She said it like she had gotten the final word, but she didn’t feel at all triumphant.

In that moment, all Bismuth could think of was Rose’s horrified expression as she showed off the Breaking Point, what it was capable of. She could only imagine how Rose would have reacted to this. Yes, accidents happened and self defense was necessary on the battlefield, but she’d be fooling herself if she thought that that was all she ever shattered a gem for. She knew what she was capable of. She preached about a fair fight, but there were plenty of fights where her first blow was the killing blow. She knew what it felt like to have a gemstone crush against her fist.

“Would you hate me if you knew?”

Although the statue still offered no response, Bismuth already knew the answer to that one. Rose felt many things and did many things—she was many things—but Bismuth knew without a doubt that she didn’t have a hateful photon in her physical form. She may resent her, she may never forgive her, but she would never hate her, or anyone, for that matter.

Bismuth considered herself a proud gem, but she wasn’t too proud to admit that she was wrong. It wasn’t even a matter of right or wrong when it came to the war. There were no winners, only those who came out better off than their opponents. Everyone suffered, one way or another. Bismuth suffered from trauma and guilt, equally; she suffered every time a reconstructed gem soldier regarded her wearily, a gem who had followed orders right to their own demise.

She laid a hand on the statue’s shoulder, drained and defeated. “I don’t forgive you,” she said simply, “but I don’t forgive myself, either.”

They were both desperate to end the fighting, but their desperation only led to greater destruction.

“I hope you would feel the same.”

[kpophogwartsaus]

𝓟𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓼

Pairing: Lee Donghyuck x Ravenclaw!Reader (Gender Neutral)

Wordcount: 3.1 K

Warnings: None ????

𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 ! ♡

You can't get along with everyone, that's just how life works. But still, you wished that you could get along with Lee Donghyuck just once. You and Donghyuck were assigned partners in Potions class at the beginning of the term, needless to say, it hasn't been the best thing to occur on Hogwarts. Constant fighting and disagreement, it didn't take long for any arguing to begin. As a Ravenclaw, you were used to arguments and discussions like this but somehow, Donghyuck just knew how to rile you up until you were both arguing loudly.

Normally, you were capable enough to keep your side of the argument civilized and clean but when it was Donghyuck every "nice person" filter seemed to vanish from your words without you being able to stop. Ever since your Professor, Slughorn, paired you up your detention rate had gone up and through the roof. Your parents weren't happy, to say the least, they were pissed. They were angry at the teacher for not changing partners but mostly, they were angry at you because why not, am I right? Your Potions teacher refused to change your partners and soon you were pretty certain that you would go insane from arguing.

When you looked at the clock in your dorm it said half-past two, in the morning. You groaned silently as you closed your book, you had been studying for literal hours. Studying, you HATED studying. It could be fun sometimes but right now it wasn't, you would much rather be looking up random useless facts that were actually interesting.

After you had made yourself comfortable in your bed you looked up at the ceiling sleepily. The dark blue ceiling was painted with hundreds and hundreds of stars and constellations, a perfect duplicate of the heavens. It was comfortingly luring you to sleep, just before you fell into well-deserved sleep you remembered something, the first class tomorrow was Potions.

You felt like an actual corpse walking through the big corridors without any motivation to live. Your friend, Renjun who was a fellow Ravenclaw, helped you down to the Great Hall. You slumped down heavily beside Renjun when you reached the Ravenclaw table. Renjun practically demanded that you ate breakfast before chucking a piece of bread at you. You dodged the bread and narrowed your eyes at him, he seemed to get the message but still forced you to eat.

Somehow you always managed to get little sleep every time it was inconvenient, every time you got eight or more hours of sleep there was always a very calm day in school. No hard assignments to turn in or not a lot of homework but every time you didn't? Oh boy, three assignments to turn in and homework from every class.

Today was one of those days when it would be calm, the only thing ruining it was the Potions class.

Your energy wasn't the only thing running low when you stayed up late, your patience was also running low. You knew you had to go face him but you weren't in the mood today. Thinking about it made your blood boil and you knew that this particular Potions class was going to end in either war or a dead body and neither of them sounded like a great option.

The walk to the dungeon was painful, the mere thought of what you were going to have to put up with for the next two hours made you want to turn around and walk in the opposite direction and never come back. You were well aware that you needed to go to class because your detention streak was not good for your grades and you didn't need any absence to sprinkle on top, that was the only reason that kept you on the path towards the classroom.

You were the first person to enter the classroom. Professor Slughorn was already there putting everything in order for the two-hour lesson. He saw you walk in and put your things on your desk before you slammed your head down on the desk and just sat there. Slughorn stopped to fiddle with the cauldrons and walked over to you.

"L/n, are you feeling all right?" He asked.

"I'm afraid not, professor." You answered, your voice muffled by your arms the was supporting your heavy head.

"What seems to be the matter?" He asked kindly, tilting his head slightly in concern.

"I only got a few hours of sleep because I was studying and I'm not feeling very keen on meeting my Potions partner." You looked up tiredly.

"I understand," Slughorn said and nodded in pity.

"I'll make sure he won't bother you too much." Slughorn smiled kindly before walking back to the teacher's desk.

While you were waiting for class to start you rested against your desk and you were undisturbed until he arrived. You didn't need to look up from your resting position to know that he had scanned the classroom for you the moment he had stepped inside.

He was wearing his everyday Slytherin robes, his green and silver tie was messily tied like always since he never really bothered to tie it properly. His light brown hair was the same as every day, a messy mob of hair resting on his head. When people said he was attractive you couldn't help but agree, he was really attractive. It was such a shame that he had decided to elect you to be his sworn enemy.

"It's only first period and you're already giving up, L/n." You didn't need to look up to know that he was standing right next to you with a big smirk on his face.

You ignored him, you really weren't in the right state of mind to bother arguing back today. Being tired didn't only cause your mental capacity to run low, your temper and patience were even lower. Apparently, your obvious lack of attention towards him had hit a sour spot in his ego and he huffed audibly. You heard him open his mouth to say something but something stopped him and he sat down beside you instead. Still resting against the desk, you smiled in content.

Donghuyck was surprisingly quiet during the wait for class to start, it wasn't like you were complaining but it was just unusual, almost off-putting. He was almost never quiet, you almost thought someone had finally snapped and strangled him. You looked up from the desk just to check. When he noticed you looking a knowing smirk immediately appeared on his face, like he knew you were going to look up. You narrowed your eyes at him and you were about to go back to resting but Professor Slughorn cleared his throat, signalling that class was starting.

The class was boring, of course, it was boring the day you were surviving on a few hours of sleep. You were barely able to stay awake and you probably looked like death at the moment. To your surprise, Donghyuck stayed quiet during class as well. You were tempted to check his temperature several times but that would be a very weird situation so you decided against it.

You were brought back from your thoughts when Slughorn placed a piece of parchment paper on your and Doghyuck's desk. It was upside down and you could see text on the other side, Donghyuck reached out to turn it but was stopped by a stern look from the Professor. You placed your hand over your mouth to hide your tired giggles and Donghyuck glared at you. When Slughorn had handed out a parchment paper to every pair in the classroom he returned to the front of the class and cleared his throat.

"You may turn the papers,"

He had barely finished the sentence before Donghyuck reached out and turned the piece of paper quickly. You watched as his face morphed from an excited face to a disgusted and disappointed one. You looked at the paper in front of you and felt your face beginning to copy his. Amortentia, written in bold letters on the top of the paper. You looked up at Slughorn and noticed a faint but knowing smile and you couldn't help but suspect that this wasn't a coincidence.

"Now, you've all been given advanced potions that you will brew together in your pairs. You won't be given any time to brew them in class so you'll have to make time in your spare time. You have two months" He said loudly.

Oh, he definitely planned this.

After a discussion with the Gryffindors, he allowed you to get the rest of this class to begin your potion. Everyone scurried out from the classroom to find the best spot to brew their potion. You and Donghyuck were still sitting there in silence, Slughorn looked at you.

"I've heard that the Prefects' Bathroom is an excellent place for potions brewing," Slughorn said with a smug smile and looked directly at you.

You sighed and looked at Donghyuck before nodding your head in the direction of the door. He rolled his eyes and picked up his cauldron and you grabbed the paper and your books. Donghyuck walked up to Slughorn and collected your ingredients. The walk to the Prefects' Bathroom was silent, too silent for your liking.

"Why are you so quiet?" You asked the question that had been nagging your brain since the class started. Donghyuck seemed somewhat taken back by your question and looked at you. You might have been seeing things because of the lack of sleep but you swore that you saw a hint of pink on his cheeks.

"You looked tired," He answered simply.

"How does that stop you, you're never quiet." You said suspiciously.

"It's no fun to argue with someone who's tired because they don't do anything." He said and rolled his eyes.

It seemed like a farfetched excuse but you decided not to press it. When you finally arrived in front of the entrance to the Prefects' Bathroom after a long, agonizing and silent walk you turned to Donghyuck. He looked back at you in confusion, you glared at him and his confusion only escalated.

"Cover your ears," You hissed at him.

"Why?" He asked obnoxiously.

"Because I'm not going to reveal the password to someone like you!" You said.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He asked.

"Please do as I say before I turn you into a toad." You said, trying to keep your calm.

He rolled his eyes once before covering his ears tightly with his palms. You gave him a suspicious glare before turning around to the door, you didn't trust Donghyuck to not eavesdrop so you picked up your wand and pointed it at him.

"Muffliato," You said and smiled in content when Donghyuck started to glare at you. You turned back to the door.

"Pine Fresh," You said and the door opened.

You walked in with a slightly irritated Donghyuck, that was frantically rubbing his ears in a poor attempt to remove the buzzing, trailing behind you. The two of you entered the glorious- and luxurious-looking bathroom you could see Donghyuck hiding a very obvious expression of awe. You pretended not to notice to not permanently scar his ego.

"Let's get started," You said as Donghyuck put down the cauldron on the clinker brick floor, that was the first time the two of you agreed on something peacefully.

After a month, your relationship had evolved from enemies to frenemies, a place that you both were surprisingly comfortable with. You had stopped avoiding him in the corridors and now you were greeting each other with either a respectful nod or a playful smirk. You had begun to brew your potion, brewing Amortentia took less time than you had predicted at first and you suspected that the potion would be done today.

You were on your way to History of Magic when you saw him in the other end of the corridor, an unknowing smile made its way to your lips and you subconsciously picked up your pace to reach him faster. He was laughing at something that his fellow Slytherin friend, Na Jaemin, had said. You had never heard him laugh wholeheartedly before, sure you had heard him giggle and chuckle on certain occasions but never a full-fledged laugh. He was bending over, hands on his knees to support himself from falling to the ground, mouth wide open and the clear tone of his laugh bounced beautifully against the stone walls.

As the sound hit your ears you almost stopped in mid-sprinting to admire his laugh but you kept on sprinting to avoid humiliation. When you reached him he was wiping away tears from the corner of his eyes, still chuckling at his friend's joke.

"Hi!" You said excitedly.

"Hi, L/n!" Donghyuck smiled and looked at you.

"You have to meet me in the Hospital Wing corridor today, we can finish the potion today and then do some extra credit work from Professor Slughorn!" You smiled at him brightly.

You watched as Donghyuck turned his head towards Jaemin. Naturally, you also looked at Jaemin in search of what Donghyuck was looking for. The only thing you saw though was a smirking Jaemin that gestured his head towards you once before Donghyuck turned back to you, a small pink blush on his cheeks that was beyond notice for you. Donghyuck rubbed the back of his neck and licked his lips nervously.

"Of course, see you during the study period." He answered.

"Thanks, Hyuckie!" You said out of pure excitement.

It was only when you were about to round the corner that you realized your mistake. Your face dropped and you turned around in a panic to look at Donghyuck. To your surprise, Donghyuck was blushing and Jaemin was nudging him suggestively. Even though you were so far away you could still see the red cheeks and his poor attempts to defend himself, a soft smile made itself onto your lips before you disappeared behind the corner.

Later that day, during study hour, you were sitting crossed on the shiny clinker brick floor. You were making the final touches on your potion

"Stir the potion 32 times clockwise..." You read from the instructions.

You began to stir the potion with circular motions. As you kept the counting in your head the air began to slowly but gradually smell like something familiar. It took you a while to identify the smell but it was clear after a while. When you reached 32 you turned around.

"Donghyuck, I told you not to scare..." You trailed off when you were met by the sight of the empty bathroom behind you. You frowned in confusion, you could've sworn that you had smelled the strong scent of Donghyck's cologne... oh shit.

You leaned back until your back was resting against the cold floor. The palms of your hands were pressed against your head in disbelief, it couldn't be! It just couldn't! You couldn't have a crush on the boy who was teasing you every day, right?

As if on cue, the door opened and a Lee Donghyuck stumbled into the grand bathroom. Before he had the time to make a comment about your unusual position on the floor he was hit by the smell of the cheap quill ink you were always using in Potions class. His heart started speeding up as the image of you taking notes in the class took over his mind. You always looked so adorable with your face twisted in concentration and as you tried to keep up with the professor. He then realized why there was such a prominent smell of your quill ink despite the ink bottle being safely tucked away in your bag, the Amortentia was finished. His cheeks flushed red but he concealed them with a confident smirk and he leaned against the door.

"What did you smell that made you nearly faint, L/n?" He asked loudly.

You sat up in surprise, seeing him standing at the door.

He pushed himself away from the door and walked towards you. For the first time, you noticed small things about him. The way he walked suddenly turned very attractive, his tan skin was caught in the light of the sun that shone through the windows. His messy hair didn't seem so improper anymore, rather charming actually. He sat down in front of you with a familiar and taunting smirk, like he knew what you smelled without you telling him. His eyebrows were raised suggestively and he was leaning back, supported by his arms as his head was tilted back until he almost looked down at you. You blushed slightly and averted your gaze and tried to distract yourself from his intense eyes.

"Nothing," You cleared your throat awkwardly.

"It's nothing." You looked back at him when you finally gathered the courage.

For the first time in a few weeks, things felt awkward between you. The room was completely silent while the two of you denied eye contact with one another. It was like both of you knew that you had smelled something that told you that you were attracted to each other but neither wanted to start the conversation. Maybe it was stubbornness, pride or maybe you both were scared.

"So, what did you smell?" You asked hesitantly. Donghyuck blushed and scratched his neck uncomfortably, he stared down at the floor and refused to meet your gaze. You waited patiently for him to answer since this was a more personal question. Finally, he looked up.

"Do you want me to be honest?" He asked.

"Yes," You said.

"It smelled like that quill ink you insist on using even though I tell you it's shit," He said and looked at you nervously.

Whatever you had expected him to say flew out of the window. You had never expected him to return your newly discovered affection. You looked at him with wide eyes, eyes that made him nervous, eyes that allured him and eyes that were his favourite colour.

"What did you smell?" He asked, trying to avoid his kind of confession.

You coughed awkwardly and looked down while mumbling your answer. Donghyuck looked at you dumbfounded and leaned in closer in an attempt to hear you.

"Can you repeat that?" He asked.

"Cologne," You answered simply.

"And whom's cologne might that be?" He asked.

"Yours," You choked out quietly.

Donghyuck leaned back in victory and smirked devilishly. You glared at him as he began to stand up, pulling you with him. You crossed your arms and pouted while avoiding his eyes.

Donghyuck chuckled and brushed his hand over your cheek before placing it there. You subconsciously leaned into the warmth of his palm, avoiding eye contact again. He smiled and placed his other hand on the other cheek and guided your face to look at him. Donghyuck squished your cheeks together, making your pout intensify and he chuckled even more.

"You're too cute," He muttered before leaning in and connecting your lips.

© — kpophogwartsaus on tumblr, do not plagiarise, repost or recreate in anyway!