#i think this story has slowly become my safe space and god lord how much I need it

[persephoneflouwers]

Harry sits messily on the floor like a delicate flower lay crushed and scattered on the ground, trampled by careless feet. Yet even in his brokenness, there is beauty to be found. Like petals, Harry’s lips and pale skin blend together in a mosaic of soft pinks and red, his glassy eyes blinking slowly as he starts to realize just now Louis is standing in front of him.

DE AMORE EX TEMPORE - part ❤️/����

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[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part IV

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.6k

Warning: a big helping of abandonment/daddy issues, lots of feelings, explicit sexual content A/N: y’all are gonna be so soft and then so mad lmao. 

The plan was to go to Mike's house then back to campus. You said you didn't have anything to do at your mom's, that a long phone call would suffice, which is why Mike is confused when you ask him if you can stop by before going back. It's an hour out of the way, but it's not like he has anything better to do, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about your humble beginnings. 

 The house is in a decent-looking neighborhood, small, nearly identical one-story homes surrounded by cracked sidewalks. He has to be careful not to trip as you make your way to the front porch, pots of dead or dying plants along the edges of it. You shove your key into the lock, twist and open, then motion for Mike to follow. 

 The den is dimly lit, ceiling fan above with only one working bulb. A crime show is playing on the TV but there's no one watching. There is, however, another light pouring from a back room, and as soon as you drop your bag on the couch, a head pokes out from the doorway. 

 "Baby girl!" A shrill voice cries, and Mike sees you grimace. "I thought you weren't coming by!" 

 A woman walks into the den wearing long, cotton shorts and an old tie-dye shirt then pulls you into a hug so tight that it makes you cough. 

 "Mom," you take a deep breath as if to refill your lungs with all the air that was pushed from them. "This is Mike."

 He holds out a hand and smiles, but all your mother does is stare with round eyes and blurt, "Oh, he's a big boy." 

 "My fucking god." You don't yell or whine, just pinch the bridge of your nose and mumble, "Just shake his hand please." 

 "Sorry, I'm sorry, just was not expecting… You didn't tell me how tall he was."

 "'Cause it doesn't matter. Why would I—nevermind," you cut yourself off, face falling flat just like your voice. 

 Mike isn't sure if he should be flattered or offended or embarrassed, so he just ignores the comment entirely and says, "Nice to meet you." 

 You make your escape to the back, dragging Mike with you before shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it. 

 "Mom is a little weird, but you'll always know where you stand with her," you tell him. "Also, sorry about the house. She’s a teacher, so she’s usually pretty beat at the end of the day. Not enough energy to do a lotta cleaning."

 "Didn't even notice," he reassures you. 

 Mike unpacks his bag next to you, and you gather the dirty clothes from both yours and his, balling them up and taking them with you out to the garage to throw into the washing machine. Mike should have done it at his parents', but as you were packing up that morning, his mother got all teary eyed and his dad just kept shaking your tiny hands and telling you to come back, so it just didn’t happen. 

 Back in the living room, your mom is sitting in an old rocking chair, and Mike thinks you'll take a seat on the adjacent couch, but instead you ask, "You need help with anything? Dishes or vacuuming or somethin'?"

 She looks up at you, fly-away hairs sticking out around her temples and forehead and responds, "It'd be nice if you could do the dishes. I just haven't gotten around to it."

 "Can do," you nod and walk into the kitchen, opening the dishwasher and making a displeased noise at the dirty plates and bowls inside. There's room for a few more, but once it's full and running, you just clean what's left in the sink by hand. Mike finds a towel, stands next to you, and holds his hand out for every scrubbed dish, drying it and placing it in the rack to hopefully be put up later. 

 "You hungry?" You ask when you're done and drying your hands. "It's almost one."

 "Uh, yeah. I could eat." 

 Truthfully, he's starving having only had a small breakfast at his parents'. He doesn't want to say that, though, doesn't want you making a big meal for him or apologizing for anything. 

 "Sandwiches okay?" 

 Something in your tone has him on edge. Your voice is too quiet, deflecting downward as if you're forcing each word from your mouth. 

 "Yeah," he nods. "If you get the stuff, I can make 'em." Mostly so that you can relax but also because there's no way he's gonna let you make him a fucking sandwich. 

 You shrug your shoulders, grab bread, lunchmeat, cheese, and condiments, then say, "You can make ours. I'll make mom's."

 He knows he's missing something, but he doesn't know what, and right now he's too afraid to ask. 

 He eats next to you on the couch, you and your mom watching TV as Mike tries to subtly glance around. Mounted shelves are decorated with dusty, mismatched figurines, cracks opening at the corners where the walls meet the roof. The brick fireplace is stacked high with plastic tubs and books, probably from your mother’s classroom, and the carpet has seen better days. 

 Mike isn't judging—not in the least—but he has a feeling he knows why being here puts you in a sour mood. The house feels lived in, cluttered and cozy and worn around the edges, but it's still empty somehow. 

 After the three of you are finished eating, you take the paper plates and dispose of them, then tell your mom that you'll be in your room. She gives you a soft smile that you struggle to return.

 It's a little more you in the bedroom, blue walls covered in old posters and collages, a quilt similar to the one in your dorm folded at the bottom of your bed. Your pillow cases are faded and covered in an old flower design that matches your sheets, and there's a small nightstand next to the headboard that's bare on top with wrinkled papers poking out of the bottom drawer. 

 "It's not much, but if you wanna snoop around like I always do, feel free." 

 Mike doesn't really want to, especially since you already seem so uncomfortable in what should be a safe space for you. The only thing he feels okay investigating is the old bookshelf next to your closet—mostly YA novels, some poetry books, an old set of The Lord of the Rings series, a textbook over rocks and minerals and another over volcanoes. Tucked away in the bottom shelf is a tiny booklet that looks like a photo album, and Mike has to fight the urge to pull it from its place and flip through the plastic pages. Anything to get to know you better. 

 You lay in bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, and Mike doesn't know what to do. There's a very small TV sitting on your dresser, an old DVD player next to it, so he figures he'll save both you and himself from talking by picking out a movie. 

 He fingers through them, not that there's a lot, just skims the spines until he pulls out a copy of Space Jam. You only glance at the screen when the intro starts, and Mike immediately zeroes in on the way your jaw sets and your brows furrow. 

 "I can pick something else," he tells you quietly. 

 You take a deep breath and shake your head. Slowly but surely your features begin to soften. 

 "'S'fine."

 "Are you sure?" 

 "Yeah. My, uh…" You swallow loud enough from Mike to hear, neck bobbing with the motion. "My dad and I used to watch it all the time."

 He doesn't know what to make of it or how to respond. In the months he's known you, Mike has never heard you mention your father a single time, and he's never asked in fear of what your response might be. 

 He moves your quilt to sit on the very edge of the bed, a little too tense as he heavily contemplates ignoring what you'd said and still switching movies. 

 "You can lay down, you know," you mumble. "I'm not gonna bite you."

 "You have before," he tries to act casual, but it comes out too stiffly.

 You laugh through your nose— "Suit yourself—" then get more comfortable on the mattress. 

 Michael Jordan gets pulled into a golf hole and the Loony Toons journey to retrieve his shoes from the real world. Mike is barely paying attention, more focused on the way your breathing evens out until it becomes slow and deep. 

 That's good. You could use a nap. 

 He watches you for a while, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and your lips part. You're all curled up on yourself, hands tucked under your chin, knees to your stomach, and Mike wants to slip behind you so badly, to pull you to his chest and lay with you until his heartbeat syncs with yours. 

 But first. 

 As carefully as he can, Mike stands from the bed and glides to the bookcase. He lowers himself in front of it, quickly finding what he's looking for and pulls it from the shelf. 

 It's a small little album, full of polaroids and old pictures cut in half. The first page sets the tone for the rest of the booklet, a photo of a very small you outside eating a popsicle next to a man that is most definitely your dad. You've got a similar facial structure as well as his coloring. Not to mention the expression he's wearing is one Mike has seen you make many times before. 

 The next picture is the two of you dressed up for an event. He's in a striped Polo and slacks while you're in a little checkered dress, a rose corsage on your tiny wrist. Some kind of father-daughter dance, Mike guesses. 

 Sitting on his lap at a fair, a chubby little boy a few years older than you standing close with a stuffed snake around his neck. A party where you're posed with an honestly frightening costume character. You in a bright, mesh jersey standing back to back with your dad, arms crossed, looking at the camera with your chins tilted upward. 

 They all look like good memories. The little boy in the fair picture appears several more times, and as he loses his baby fat, Mike sees the resemblance he shares with you and your father. It's too close to be a cousin—your eyes and mouths shaped the same—so he must be your brother. 

 Mike doesn't know how to feel about that because again, you've never uttered a word. As far as he knew, you were an only child, so why…

 He gets lost in the pages, watching you grow and pose mostly next to your dad. Smiles and laughs and silly faces with your tongues sticking out. Your mom is in some, brother in others, and then, you're in a cap and gown, grinning widely next to your dad who's beginning to gray at the temples. His own smile is barely there now, a ghost of what was seen in the previous photos. It's forced, it's sad, and it's the last picture in the book. 

 Mike's chest hurts. He wonders what happened, when exactly you'd lost him. Was it a quick goodbye, or had it been drawn out and painful? Had he been sick for a long time? He'd looked perfectly healthy in all the shots. Maybe a car accident that took both him and your brother…

 He flips to check for one last photo on the back of the page, but it's empty. However, tucked in a tiny, paper pocket is a folded up note that Mike stares at for a few solid minutes, debating the pros and cons of reading it. He knows he's already violated your privacy by looking through the album, and fuck, he's only been in your house for a couple hours at most—how has he already managed to tumble down such a humongous rabbit hole? 

 Your tiny snores reach his ears, and Mike gently pulls the note out, biting his lip as he unfolds it as quietly as possible. It's soft, like it's been read too many times, and the letters scribbled in all caps are beginning to fade, but the words are still legible. 

 It starts with your name, and then it's all apologies—sorry I can't stay, I have to leave, you don't understand how much this hurts me and so on. 

 Mike's eyebrows pull together the further he reads, blood pounding against the walls of his arteries, pulse picking up because he understands now.

 Your father wasn't in any sort of accident; he just left. 

 The letter ends with a gut-wrenching, You'll always be my little girl, and Mike nearly crumples the paper up to throw away. He resists somehow, simply folds it with shaky hands and slips it back into the pocket at the back of the album. 

 He's never been so mad at a stranger in his life. This must be it. This must be why you are—

 "Should've known you'd go straight for the photo album." 

 Your voice makes Mike's body jolt, his face heating as he turns to look at you with wide eyes. 

 "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

 You wave him off and prop yourself up on an elbow. "It's whatever."

 But, it's not. It's this huge part of you that still affects you to this day. Mike is no psychologist, but he has a pretty good feeling this is the main reason you hold everyone at arm's length. 

 "Why didn't you ever tell me?" 

 "What's there to tell?" 

 Sitting up fully, your gaze moves to the screen just in time to see Michael Jordan step off of the spaceship and onto the baseball field. I Believe I Can Fly is playing, and you're gritting your teeth. 

 "It's not anything that comes up in normal conversation anyway. I wasn't just gonna hit you with it outta nowhere. Also," you look back to Mike, eyes still sleepy, lips pulling downward in a frown. "I'm not the only one who hid stuff about my family."

 Mike sighs and quietly tells you, "That's different," as he closes the album and slides it back into the row of books. 

 "Is it, though? Is it really?" 

 "I..." 

 Mike shuts his mouth and actually thinks on it. He wasn't trying to lie to you about his home life or his heritage. He's only half Greek on his mom's side, after all, and he's only been to the country to visit family a couple of times—once when he was a child and once right before college. The culture is a little different over there, but it all seems so natural to him, especially after being raised to speak the language. 

 Honestly, he didn't ever tell you because he didn't think to, but Mike can understand the shock of walking into his childhood home and getting thrown through that loop. It must have been jarring for you. 

 It's a positive aspect of his life, though. It's not something that's damaged him or made him cold toward others. And, he hates describing you in such a way, but it's true.

 At least it makes sense now. 

 "I guess not," he shrugs. He's not about to fight you on it. 

 You stare at him for a while, waking up a bit more as you rub your eyes and stretch. 

 Then, you flop back down on your pillows. 

 "So. Any questions, Zacharias?" 

 He's surprised that you're asking, and though he doesn't want to twist the metaphorical knife in your gut, he still replies honestly: "Too many."

 A long exhale through your nose, and then you're patting the mattress next to you and grumbling, "Fine, I'll do my best, but you gotta come up here."

 "Why? You gonna need to cuddle afterward?" He can't help but tease. 

 "Fuckin' maybe, dude! We're about to get into my god damn trauma so—"

 Mike is up on his feet and flying toward the bed. He isn't about to sabotage the one fucking moment you're opening yourself up. 

 "Alright, what first?" You ask, trying to look bored, but Mike can clearly see that you're nervous. 

 "He left." 

 "Yeah."

 And then he gets the full story. 

 Your dad was pretty perfect during your younger years—a bit of a workaholic but still good. He took you to dances like the one you'd both dressed for in the photograph. You'd spend days at amusement parks where he'd carry you on his shoulders. He coached the basketball team you'd played on as a child.

 "Not saying he played favorites, but I was definitely closer to him than my brother was."

 The brother who developed a drug problem at fourteen, who was always either out with his little addict friends or at home where he would just scream at you and your mom. 

 "He went to rehab a couple times, but it didn't stick." 

 He left home at seventeen and hasn't gotten in touch with you or your parents since. 

 "I keep thinking one day we'll get a call from the police saying they found his wallet on a fucking corpse, but who knows. Maybe he got clean. Maybe he started a family somewhere else. He'd be twenty-five now."

 "Were you ever close with him?"

 You shrug. "We spent a lot of time together when we were really little, but even back then he was kinda a mean kid."

 It very quickly circles back to your father. Mike still doesn't feel like he has all the answers, so he asks through the skin of his lip, "Why'd he leave?"

 At this point, you've got your head in his lap as he sits against the wall. He smooths your hair back from your face every once in a while, something his mom used to do to him when he was very young that always soothed him. 

 He hopes it's having the same effect on you, thinks it might be considering you've had your eyes closed for a while now, humming now and then as you talk. 

 "Honestly, I don't really know. I don't think he and my mom were ever in love. Like, they just kinda settled for each other," you sigh. "They didn't have a lot in common. They had different upbringings. But, they didn't fight or anything—not in front of us. They were good at hiding the hard times from me and my brother. They just didn't… click."

 Mike bites his tongue, wonders if that was hard to watch or if you'd been too naive to notice. 

 Then, there's his second train of thought that's really just the voice in his head screaming, we click, though! You and I work! But he keeps it to himself. This isn't about you and him. 

 "I think maybe dad had, like, a 'stay together for the kids' mentality 'cause as soon as I graduated, he was fuckin' gone. And, I mean gone. We went to a graduation party the next weekend that lasted a few hours—just me and mom—and when we got back his truck wasn't in the driveway and his drawers were empty. He left that note you read on my desk."

 Mike breathes. Just breathes. He tries to make sense of it, how someone could just do that without a real reason. There hadn't been any explanation in the letter, only apologies. 

 "Have you seen him since?" 

 You open your eyes and reply, "Nope," popping the 'p'. "I don't know where he is, and he hasn't reached out. Mom made the drive to my grandma's—his mom—but she said she didn't know where he was either. Pretty sure she was covering for him, though. She was always kind of a bitch. You know, save for the whole paying for my college and all."

 Mike snorts at this, not that there's anything funny about the situation. It's just his first reaction. 

 You ignore it, moving on with an, "Anyway."

 "Anyway," he mimics. 

 "I don't know if you've noticed in the short time you've been here, but my mom is a little… off. Not super good at taking care of herself."

 "Is this why?" 

 "Clever boy," you show a bitter smile. "I didn't really understand since they weren't, like, in love or whatever, but… I think it was the betrayal more than anything. Like, it came outta nowhere, a big ol' slap in the face."

 "Plus, he left you behind," Mike adds, as if you don't already know. 

 Looking up at him, you raise your eyebrows and smirk. "And, now you know about my abandonment issues." The last part comes out in high-pitched, melodic syllables, a little song that would be funny if Mike didn't know it was a coping mechanism. It most definitely is, though. He can tell that you're the type to mask every issue with humor and sarcasm. It's how you've been dealing with him for the last several months. 

 "So, that's my story," you conclude on an exhale. "Now you know all my dirty secrets."

 "For some reason I don't think that's all of them," Mike pets your hair again. "But, probably the important ones."

 "Mm. I guess."

 The rest of the day is really just spent killing time. You cook an easy dinner that you refuse to let Mike help with, then sit in the den with your mom just like you did at lunch. A medical show is playing. Then a reality show. Then a game show. None of you say much of anything, and it's painfully awkward for Mike now that he knows what happened, but he can power through a few days of this if it makes you feel better. 

 Hours pass until you can retreat, and moonlight shines through your bedroom window, not that Mike needs it. He's memorized your body at this point, knows where to touch without even seeing. He makes sure to be gentle, to suckle and blow on your pebbled nipples as you card fingers through his hair and breathe faster and faster. 

 Leaving love bites down your chest and stomach, he sucks on your skin, gently grazing his teeth over every bruise. Mike wants you to see them all the next day—not a staked claim, just something you can't ignore when you look in the mirror, evidence of his feelings in every mark. 

 When you're finally nice and relaxed, he spreads your legs and licks into you, trying not to be too rough with his beard, but a few swipes of it over your clit leave you shaking in his grasp. You whisper his name, the common one that everyone knows him by, but then, rolling off your tongue like a prayer, you call him, "Miche," and he can't help the rumble that rises in his chest. 

 It should be strange. That's the name only his family uses, the one he was born with. He only simplified it so that kids in school wouldn't ask questions or make fun of him, and after that, it just sort of stuck. But, here and now, falling from your lips, it's so soft. So intimate. 

 You whimper when he sucks on your folds, making them swell, making them sensitive. And then, he's pushing his tongue inside of you and humming happily at the taste. His nose is bumping against your clit, and Christ, you even smell good to him—that ripe, tangy aroma that has Mike going a little crazy. He has to make sure he doesn't get too carried away. You can't make very much noise even with the rattling of the air conditioner, but as he slowly slides a finger into your pussy, he hears you moan around the fist you're holding to your mouth. 

 He stretches you just enough to get you ready, then he holds himself over you and pushes into your wet cunt. Your eyes are open, locked with Mike's as your brow raises and your jaw drops. It's erotic, something you've never done with him before. You typically either gaze somewhere other than his face or keep your eyes squeezed shut. 

 Tonight, though, you've been vulnerable and apparently want to stay that way for a little while longer. 

 He bends to catch you in a kiss, lips and tongues moving just as slowly as his hips, and when you reach to tug at Mike's hair, he pants into your mouth. 

 Those words are there again, stuck in his throat but slowly crawling upward until they're just there, pouring from his tongue, "I lo—"

 Until you cut him off with a sharp, "Don't."

 He makes a noise of frustration, wants to protest because he's so deep inside of you, and you're holding onto him like you want him—truly want him, but you mutter once more against his lips, "Don't say it, Miche."

 So, he doesn't. He bottles the confession up and keeps it locked away, hoping like hell that one day you'll let him tell you. 

 After you climax and coat his cock in slick and cream, he gives a few more thrusts and comes inside of you, filling you with himself and wondering why you're so willing to accept him in that way but not in any other. 

 He's hurting again, like he did at his parents' as you walked around like you belonged there. Except it's worse now. 

 If you don't want him to say it, that means you don't want to say it back. 

 He stays with you for a few more minutes before pulling out. You leave to clean up, and while you're gone, Mike sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tries to get it all out of his system, whispering it out loud to himself: 

 I love you. I love you, I love you.  

 You still let him hold you as you fall asleep, gripping his hand until you can't anymore, and as Mike drifts off behind you, he has one last thought—Just let me.

* There’s only three weeks left of the semester when you head back to campus, and you intend to make the most of every passing day. 

 You pay better attention in class. You study harder in the library to prepare for final exams. You go to a few more Pi Alpha Kappa parties, making sure not to burn yourself out. And, you let Mike fuck your brains out every few days. Sometimes it’s late at night after those parties. Sometimes you're too tired after the nights of drinking and end up just going to bed only to wake up in the morning and have slow, sleepy sex. Sometimes it’s in the middle of the afternoon when you both have breaks between classes.

 Neither of you bring up anything that happened over the break—meeting families, details about your childhoods, how much you learned about one another in general.

 Most importantly, neither of you address that first night at your mom’s, the way Mike had basically worshiped your body, how he’d come so close to uttering the three words you least want to hear. 

 Thinking about it still makes your chest tighten, your heart beat faster. Sometimes when you’re sharing his bed with him, back pressed to his chest, large arm slung over your waist, you think about why it is you’re so vehemently against it. The two of you already act like a couple most of the time. You walk with each other to class when you can. You stick to each other’s sides at parties. You fuck like rabbits and don’t care who knows about it. 

 And, though you’re hesitant to admit it even to yourself, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him. Mike is your best friend at this point. He’s insanely hot. He’s goofy. He’s kind. Yeah, the frat boy persona he puts on around his friends is annoying, but you understand it a little better now. Plus, he always takes off the mask when he’s alone with you, giving both you and himself a break from it.

 You know your time with him is quickly coming to an end—for about two months, at least—and whenever you think too hard about it, it makes you pout and huff. You’re not looking forward to your summer classes without him, but he promises on several occasions that you can call him while he’s at his parents’ if you ever need help with the material.

 It’s impressive, the way he’s able to act like nothing happened. You know it must be troubling him, but it’s not like you can do anything to soothe him. If he was really upset with you, he would have stopped spending time with you, but he hasn’t. He just bottles it up, keeps smiling at you all crookedly, and keeps satisfying you in the bedroom (more than satisfying honestly. There’s really not a word to describe what he does).

 He’s back to getting along with everyone in the Pike house, everyone being Erwin. It’s a relief just because you don’t have to put up with the tension between them, but it’s also awkward. And, a little frightening. 

 The brothers have Smash Brothers tournaments and movie nights, a few date parties here and there, and it never fails that at some point during the evenings, you find your neck prickling as it always does when you feel someone staring at you. You always hope it’s Mike. Fuck, you wish it was him. But, when you glance up and around, it’s Erwin. Every time. His deep blue eyes are trained on you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward on one side. It doesn’t matter if he’s alone or if he’s got Maddie or some other girl sitting in his lap. He's fucking shameless, and it makes your stomach hurt.

 You keep your mouth shut for the sake of the friendship but also for the sake of Erwin’s pretty face. If he and Mike ever got into an actual fight, Erwin would probably be able to get a good few punches in, but you’re nearly positive Mike would end up destroying him in the long run. That could get him kicked out of school. That could get him thrown in jail. 

 Finals roll around, and you manage to pass all of them without issue, even getting grades above the class average. You feel fantastic, like your long term goals might actually be attainable. You have a long road ahead of you, but your GPA at the end of the year is more than enough to raise your confidence. 

 Mike asks you to come back to his house for the couple weeks between the end of the semester and the start of your summer courses, but you turn him down, too scared of what might happen while you’re there. Acting like a couple in front of his parents will only exacerbate his feelings as well as yours, and you’d like to avoid that as best you can. 

 Even now as you’re standing outside by the Jeep, he tries to persuade you one last time, almost pleading, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come?��

 “Miche, I’m sure,” you tell him, trying to stay stern, but it’s hard when his sea glass eyes light up at the sound of his real name. It’s a habit you’ve gotten into, a bad one considering how much he likes it. How much you like it. “I already told you I wanna spend the free time I have at mom’s. I need to check up on her and… Probably clean, honestly.”

 He lets out a little grunt of disappointment, then nods. “Yeah, I get it.”

 “You saw what she’s like,” you remind him. “Someone needs to drop in every once in a while to make sure she isn’t, like, wasting away or something.”

 “Makes sense. I’ll be bummed, though.”

 “Be bummed all you want,” you smile. “I’ll probably still bother you over break. A lot.”

 He sounds terribly sincere when he mumbles, “You never bother me.” It makes your stomach flip in the way you do not enjoy.

 Mike sighs, taking in one of those deep breaths that makes his broad chest rise then fall, calling attention to it and making you bite your bottom lip. 

 “Alright, I should get going,” he concedes, bending down to kiss you too deeply for simple friends with benefits. It doesn’t stop you from humming into his mouth and smiling against him. You hold him by the back of his neck as he pulls your body close to his, his voice muffled when he tells you mischievously, “Don’t forget to send pictures.”

 It makes you laugh, and you lean back to swipe your tongue over his lips so that he groans and chases after you. 

 “I promise I will. Perv.” The beating sun is nothing in comparison to the way your body heats at the thought. You’ve sent him nudes before, but the idea of him looking at them from hours away, fisting his cock as he admires your body through his phone… It makes seeing him off even harder.

 After a couple more softer kisses, Mike swings into the Wrangler and pulls out of the lot. You stand in his parking space and watch him until he’s out of sight, then walk back to your dorm, dragging your feet the whole way. 

 You only stay at your mom’s house for a week, and just like you predicted, you spend most of it cleaning. She thanks you the whole time but makes excuses in between. You just reassure her that you don’t mind even though you do. She really should see a therapist and sort out the depression she’s been stuck in for a few years now, but telling someone they need professional help is easier said than done. 

 Sleeping in your old bed is much harder this time around. You're all too aware of the weight that isn't behind you, and most nights you lay awake for at least a couple of hours trying to imagine it. 

 Like you’d promised, you send him a few pictures, some of them just lewd selfies with your tits pouring out of the cups of your bra, but others are of your naked body in the bathtub, sometimes a shot of you with your hand between your legs. It feels wrong to touch yourself in your childhood home, but it’s necessary, especially when Mike sends you a few pictures of his own—one with his torso on display, defined abs absolutely mouthwatering and the V of his hips suggestively leading into mesh shorts. Another is of him in the gray joggers he wears all the time, the ones that always show off his cock. 

 He’s so fucking hot it atually hurts, makes your pussy throb as you crave his touch. It’s an awful feeling honestly, but even worse than that is the way you miss him. You aren’t supposed to miss him. You’re just supposed to be friends who have sex. Nothing more than that.

 It's why you’re glad to go back to school. Your classes will distract you, keep you from thinking about him too much. The semester is shorter during the summer, so you have to work even harder than you do during fall and spring. You don’t really think it’ll be a problem since you’re trying to cram your brain full of anything other than Mike which is great motivation for studying. 

 Nothing is gonna get you off track, you tell yourself. Nothing will interfere with your studies. That’s the plan.

 Then, you meet Zeke Jaeger. 

* You're studying in the library. It seems like you spend most of your time here, nice and quiet and empty. The campus isn't nearly as busy in the summer as it is during the rest of the school year. No parties, no sporting events, just you alone with your books. 

 It's nice. Most of the time. A little boring but mostly nice. 

 Your eyes are getting tired, and when you check your phone, you realize why. It's almost eleven PM, meaning you've been studying for about six hours. You've had longer nights, usually spent on the phone getting quizzed on the information you're learning with a few breaks in between, but that wasn't the case tonight as Mike had to spend the day with family from out of town. 

 It's okay. You're supposed to be distancing yourself anyway. 

 Taking a deep breath, you pack up your books and slide your laptop into your bag, then stand and swing it over your shoulder. 

 The strap is too long. The bag swings too hard, and your heart sinks when you hear a little grunt followed by a, "Agh, hot!" 

 Turning with wide eyes, you immediately start apologizing, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, fuck, I'm so sorry!"

 A head of light blond hair looks up from the brown stain on his white t-shirt, icy blue eyes narrowed behind wire-rimmed glasses, but when he sees the mortification on your face, his own expression softens, and he chuckles. 

 "It's fine. You can calm down."

 You're still breathing heavily, guilt making your hands shake, but he really doesn't look angry. In fact, he's grinning now, eyebrows raised like he's amused. 

 The longer you stare at him, the more familiar he looks. You're pretty sure you've seen him before. Many times before, actually, and then it clicks that this guy is on the front page of the school website. You see him every fucking time you log in, looking much more stern than he does now. Baseball hat and jersey, mitt on one hand as he hides his other in it, and yeah, you know him. 

 "You're Zeke Jaeger."

 He makes a face, scrunching his nose up and squinting. "Yeeeeah, I guess I am."

 Best pitcher in the college league despite being a sophomore like you. He's beaten the records of some major league players. 

 You don't give a fuck about baseball, have never even been to any of the school's games, but you've been hearing about Zeke since the last season. You've learned to tune it out because, again, no shits given (and also you're much more partial to lacrosse now), but he's hard to ignore when he's staring you right in the face. 

 "Well, uh," you try to act casual. It's something you're pretty good at these days. "Cool."

 He snorts, picking his shirt off his chest to air it out like it'll help, then says, "I don't know your name, though."

 You run your tongue over your teeth, wondering why he cares, then introduce yourself. 

 "Oh, you're Zacharias' little girlfriend, aren't you?"

 Your stomach flips at the mention of him. 

 "We're not dating."

 Zeke cocks his head to the side. "No?"

 "No. Just friends."

 He hums but doesn't say anything, and your eyes are once again drawn to his chest as he fans over the stain. 

 "Okay, let me get you a new shirt or something," you try. 

 He laughs again. "I highly doubt you've got a men's shirt tucked in that bag of yours, sweetheart."

 "I—" you pout for a second, mumble, "Okay, yeah, fair point."

 "Another coffee, though," he muses out loud. "Wouldn't be the worst thing."

 You shoot him a finger gun and smack your lips. "On it. Where do you get coffee at eleven o'clock?"

 "I'll walk with you," he states more than offers. 

 Then, you're both leaving the library, leaving campus, and going to a little 24 hour cafe where you blow on lattes and cover the basics about each other—philosophy major, valedictorian of his high school class, playing baseball since age seven, etc. You should sleep. You should get ready for another long day of studying.  

 But it's hard to make good decisions when Zeke Jaeger is smirking at you from across the table like you're the most interesting thing he's ever seen. 

* Zeke gets your number that night. You're not exactly sure how, but he does. 

 Then he doesn’t text you for three days. It doesn’t bother you that much. You figure he has other things to focus on. He’s on campus to take a couple courses and practice for the upcoming season, so he’s probably just busy. If that night had just been a one-off, it’s fine with you. It was cool to talk to him, but your heart isn’t broken.

 These are all the thoughts and justifications running through your head when you’re in class on Tuesday and your phone lights up during the PowerPoint lecture. You glance down, expecting Mike or Hitch, but it’s an unknown number instead. Eyes flicking from the projection screen to your much tinier one, you slide to open the message and chew on your lip. 

 Hey, it’s Zeke. You have classes this afternoon?

 You do not. And, you are too quick to tell him that.

 He takes you to a little Mom and Pop restaurant, too far to walk so you end up riding in the black Bronco he drives, trying to convince yourself that it definitely does not make him any more attractive to you. Because you aren’t attracted to him in the first place. Right?

 You sit at a table for two eating paninis and fruit. Zeke asks how classes are going, you ask about practice, and as you talk, he gets that look in his eyes again, like you amuse him or interest him or something.

 It confuses you, and for a moment, you’re taken back to last fall at that first Pi Kappa Alpha party, the one you met Mike at when he tried to get you to shotgun a beer. God, he had been so obnoxious back then, always following you around and flirting and—

 “You listening, sweetheart?”

 Your eyes refocus on the man in front of you, his raised eyebrows and little smirk. “Looks like you’re a million miles away. Sorry if I’m boring you.”

 “No, no,” you try to defend. “I just zoned out for a second. Realized I, uh, got an answer wrong on the quiz I took today.”

 “That sucks,” he hums. “Anyway, I can stop talking about baseball.”

 “It’s okay. Just go over the last, like, ten seconds,” you say with a laugh, hoping your cheeks will stop burning sooner rather than later.

 Zeke chuckles and does just that, doesn’t seem irritated or put out. He tells you about how he has a new trainer this year to warm him up and make sure his throwing arm is in top shape. “I hope he’s as good as my last. Colt was always on it, knew exactly how hot to make the warm compresses and how cold to make the ice packs. Stuff like that. He learned my needs.”

 You both laugh, and if it was anyone else, you’d have an innuendo sliding off your tongue, but for some reason, you don’t think Zeke would want to hear it, like he’d be unimpressed with your vulgar humor. 

 Back at the college, he drives you to your dorm, explaining that he lives in the apartments on the other side of campus and wouldn’t want to make you walk that far. Then, as you slide out of the Bronco, he stops you with a smooth, “Hey,” that makes you look over your shoulder at him. “Make sure you save my number in your phone, okay? I’ll text you soon.”

 The way your stomach flips is worrisome, a feeling you’re only used to when you’re with…

 “Yeah, okay.”

 He grins widely and nods, then waits for you to get a good distance away from the car before driving off.

 No distractions, you’d said. It’ll be good for your focus, you’d said. 

 What a fucking joke. 

*

Mike has to help you with some homework that weekend. You can hear his smile through the phone, snort when he makes his little nerd jokes, then sigh when he gets to the actual subject and explains it to you without a problem. His brain is incredible, and when you think about it too hard, it makes you warm inside. 

 “You’re so fucking smart. Why don’t you let people know?”

 “Maybe I just want you to know,” he chuckles. “You think I wanna spend my days tutoring every idiot who needs help?”

 “Miche, did you just call me an idiot?”

 You hear another breathy laugh followed by a sigh. “I have many, many names for you, but ‘idiot’ isn’t one of them.”

 “Oh yeah?” You play. “And, what might those other names be?”

 He lists a few, all of them making your face flush and your body tingle, and before you know it, you’ve got your pants off and your fingers between your legs. You can hear Mike’s heavy breathing on the other end, the wet sound of his hand stroking his lubricated cock, and when you reach your climax, you moan out your usual, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Miche.” 

 He tumbles down right behind you, panting and telling you in a voice of disbelief, “Jesus, it just keeps coming.” It makes the pulses of your orgasm even stronger, remembrance of all the times he’s painted you in white, and God, you are so ready for him to get back to the school.

 Then, there’s the voice in the back of your head that makes you think maybe it’s better that he’s gone for now, that he might not be too pleased that you’re spending time with another guy. But, it’s not like things with Zeke are going anywhere. You wouldn’t even call him a friend. You text on and off, have brunch or lunch or coffee depending on the time of day. 

 And, yeah, he calls you pet names, tells you that you look nice even when you’re just in leggings and a t-shirt, talks about his family and…

 Okay, it could potentially lead to something more, but it’s only been a week, and considering his golden boy status, he could have anyone he wants, so why would he even be interested in you in any way, shape, or form?

 Naturally, your thoughts circle back to Mike and the way he could have any girl on his arm, but he still chooses to spend time with you. To fuck you. To nearly confess his feelings to you. You have to wonder if you’re emitting some kind of scent or beacon, if there’s a sign hanging above your head with an arrow pointing down. Sports gods, come get a piece. 

 If only you’d never gone to that party. If you had just kept your head down like you had freshman year. Your life would be so much easier now.

 But now you’re in Zeke’s apartment listening to him rant about some philosopher you’ve never even heard of. He’s gesturing with his hands, flipping curling, blond bangs from his face, and whenever he pauses to think, he scratches his beard. He’s very fond of the white t-shirts and jeans get-up, sometimes switches it up and wears a button down under a sweater vest. Both looks are becoming of him no matter how much you try to deny it, but when he drops down onto the couch next to you and peers into your god damn soul with those piercing, blue eyes, you have to choke back a dreamy sigh.

 What is happening to you?

 “So, what do you think about it?” He asks, looking hopeful that you might have some insight on this matter.

 But, you simply laugh and shake your head. “Zeke,” you start. “I’m gonna be real honest with you here. I didn’t understand a fucking thing you just said.”

 You assume he’ll be disappointed, maybe tire of you since you can’t be as intellectually stimulating as he’d like you to, but Zeke exhales in a lighthearted sort of way, shows one of those amused smiles, and tells you, “You’re cute.”

 Anyone else and you would have snapped back, something along the lines of, don’t fucking patronize me, but with Zeke, all you can do is stare at him and let your lips part, silently asking for something you won’t speak out loud.

 His gaze moves to your mouth for a split second. That soft smile turns into one of his famous smirks. Then, he’s back on his feet and asking, “You wanna go to dinner?”

 You are more than relieved at the shift in atmosphere, but your heart is still beating too hard as you follow him downstairs and to his car. 

* Summer is passing quickly. Too quickly. The eleven week classes are kicking your ass, or are close to kicking your ass. Lucky for you, you have your own private tutor just a call or text away. Mike helps you, and you laugh and goof around, shoot off innuendo after innuendo, but the phone sex slows to a halt eventually. You tell him that you’re tired, and you are. It isn’t a lie. But, it also isn’t the full truth.

 Between classes when you could be resting, you’re eating out with Zeke. Or, watching him and the rest of the baseball team practice for the upcoming season. Or, sitting in his apartment, watching movies and chatting about all manner of things. Nothing important, of course—there’s no diving deep into your life story like you had done with Mike over Spring Break, but Zeke still learns the little things about you. Why you’re majoring in geosciences and how you became good friends with some of the Pike guys. You don’t give him the full details on that one—that you got blackout drunk and fucked Mike and just couldn’t stop. You don’t think Zeke would be interested in hearing about it anyway.

 You learn a bit about his dad and stepmom, the latter of whom he isn’t very fond of. He also has a little brother who’ll be attending the college starting this fall, and he’s interested in the Greek life. Naturally, you build PKA up. Even if there are some… Problematic people in the house, there are also a lot of really good guys. 

 “I’ll make sure to pass it along to him,” Zeke tells you one evening as you’re both sprawled on the couch, backs against the armrests as you face each other. It’s how he seems to prefer to sit when the TV isn’t on. When you asked him why, he had told you, “Just like looking at you,” and you didn’t know how to respond. You still don’t know how to respond.

 “Eren thinkin’ about joining any sports?” You ask now. “Does baseball run in the family or anything?”

 Zeke snorts. “Kid couldn’t hit a baseball even if it was on one of the t-ball stands.”

 “I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

 “I would say he’s more academically inclined, but,” Zeke sighs. “That would be a lie.”

 You can never tell if he actually likes his brother. Most of the time he complains about him, but every once in a while he’ll bring up something cute Eren did as a little boy, and you see a fond glimmer in his light eyes. 

 “Anyway,” Zeke waves off the subject and transitions to a new one—one that makes your stomach drop. “Are you gonna tell Zacharias about us?”

 You choke on your own spit, leaning forward to cough a couple times, then challenge him with a nervous laugh, “I wasn’t aware there was anything to tell him.”

 Zeke tilts his head, mouth pulling up as he raises his eyebrows. “Come on,” he chuckles.

 “Come on, what?” You frown. If you were with Mike, you both would have died at that. Come on my face, you can hear him say, and you have to fight a smile because there’s absolutely no way you could explain that to the man in front of you.

 “You don’t have to play coy, sweetheart. We both know there’s something going on between us.” He says it with such confidence that even if he wasn’t right you wouldn’t be able to argue with him. The assumption should annoy you, should make you scoff and leave, but instead you sit there staring, caught up in his gaze and cocky grin.

 “I—”

 “It’s okay, you know. Not like you’re alone in this.”

 Those questions swim through your mind again, all the insecurities that you’ve been sorting through with Mike, but now that voice is louder because that sense of trust hasn’t formed yet. You’ve only connected with Zeke over meals and movies. It sounds domestic, but despite your apparently obvious attraction to him, you still don’t feel like you really know him. 

 But, he draws you in, like a moth to a flame. You can’t help it. There’s just something about him that makes you want him to like you, like you want to impress him, like you want to be good for him. You’ve been trying to ignore those thoughts, but they’re much harder to fight now that you’re sitting in front of him, taking in his wavy hair and pale blue eyes, that ever present smirk on his face, the curve of his neck that disappears into his shirt.

 He could just want sex. He could just want a fling. Wait for everyone to get back on campus and drop you for another girl. You tell yourself you wouldn’t care; you’re good at keeping things casual.

 Wouldn’t it be fun to be his arm candy for a while, though? Let people look at you and whisper louder than they did when they’d see you and Mike together? You don’t care about status, about being in the spotlight. It’s more for the experience, dating someone who could teach you things.

 Mike teaches you things, that voice pops up again. He’s been helping you with your work for almost a year now. You can’t just overlook that. 

 “What, are you weighing the pros and cons over there or something?”

 You snort. “Maybe. We still don’t really know each other all that well, Zeke.”

 “Might I remind you that we’ve been hanging out all summer? Did you honestly think it wouldn’t lead to anything more?”

 “Honestly,” you mimic, “I never thought you’d be interested.”

 “Why wouldn’t I be?” His brow furrows like he’s genuinely confused. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re cute.” 

 God, you can’t even count how many times he’s called you ‘cute’, how many times it’s made you blush over the last several weeks, just like it does now.

 Then, he pushes, “Do you not find me at—”

 “Of course I do,” you cut him off. “I don’t know who doesn’t, which is exactly why I don’t know where this is coming from.”

 Zeke sighs like he’s annoyed, then turns the hand on his thigh palm up and beckons you with two fingers. “Come here.”

 “What?”

 “Come here.”

 Your blood pressure spikes, breaths coming in little puffs that have no way of getting to your brain. It’s probably why you obey, rolling to your knees and clumsily crawling over to him. You stop short, right between his bent knees, but Zeke sits up, straightens his legs, and pulls you into his lap.

 More of that precious air leaves your lungs as you exhale too sharply, staring at him with huge eyes. You don’t know what’s happening, can’t believe it’s happening. It doesn’t feel real even as you rest your hands on his shoulders, even when he holds your hips and pulls you so that your full weight is on him, but fuck, you can’t say anything. You can’t make a sound. All you can do is wait for him to make his next move.

 “Why do you look scared?” His voice is just above a whisper, but at this proximity you can hear him without a problem. 

 “I don’t have a lot of experience sitting in men’s laps,” you manage, trying to keep your usual careless tone, but you doubt it works.

 “For some reason I don’t believe that.”

 You rear back, actually offended. “Excuse m—”

 That ire, however, melts away as quickly as it arose. Zeke slides fingers up your waist, all the way to the back of your neck to bring your face to his—your lips to his. 

 He feels different, not at all what you’re used to. His kiss is more demanding, hungry, and God, you still can’t breathe, can’t think straight because his tongue is moving past your lips, and you’re letting it, letting him taste you as your fingertips dig into the flesh of his shoulders. You lift yourself from him just a little only for Zeke to pull you back down with the hand still gripping your hip. He makes sure you feel him when he grinds up into you, the zipper of his jeans rubbing you through your little shorts so that you gasp into his mouth. 

 You both stay like that for what feels like a fucking eternity, biting and sucking on lips, stroking over each others’ tongues until you absolutely have to break apart. You’re panting now, body still tense on top of his, and Zeke stares at you with half-lidded eyes and shows the ghost of a smile.

 “Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

 The statement sets you on fire, so much so that all you can do is whimper quietly and lean in for more. 

  And, as you get lost in Zeke Jaeger, you decide for yourself.

I need to tell Mike

[ next ]

[httphonsool]

the great spymaster

2. dancing shadows

synopsis; a series of drabbles in which you manage to conquer the great, brooding spymaster’s heart, this time; you’re both in a library.

warnings; mentions of assault/hinting towards assault, hallucination, nightmares, cutting, i think that’s it but let me know if there’s something i missed.

tag list; @grandpascurtains @samaras-weavings

notes; i don’t think i took too long to write this did i? well, anyways, the story progresses and you find out more about the reader’s life and personality, i’m not sure how many parts this will have, it’ll probably be a lot as these are quite short, but anyway yeah, enjoy!!

-

My, my, it’s been four days, or well, you’re guessing it’s been four days due to the meal pattern you’ve figured out, and not a word from the strange, beautiful interrogator. Perhaps if it wasn’t such an odd situation you would have taken a liking to the interrogator but after having stuck you in a cell with only darkness for a whole week, it’s hard to say you even want to talk to him. You’ve noticed shadows lingering in the darkness, highly resembling those who’ve wronged you in your past, one face nagging at your brain with clear persistence. This was a madhouse. You see hallucinations, reliving your worst memories, you dream of your worst days; though you could hardly call them dreams, it’s hard feeling much other than fear, so you’ve taken to pressing into your previously shackled wrists, scratching and cutting into the raw, bruised flesh with your nails just to feel pain. A madhouse.

How long does a consultation with his High Lord take? Surely it couldn’t have taken more than at least a day. Or perhaps this High Lord doesn’t exist and you’re dreaming, just dreaming. Or maybe this High Lord is cruel, not wanting to spare much time over you and slowly torture you until you died—

“I assure you, torturing you is not the reason my spymaster and I took so long. We had protocols to abide by.” You turn your head to see your interrogator and a man—it’s hard to see in the dark but the men in this realm seem to have very prominent eyes, this man’s is almost violet. Your interrogator’s hazel eyes seem to give much more mercy than those of his High Lord, “So you’ve broken our wards, I hear.” The High Lord continues, pointing his eyes down, pacing around your cell.

“I’ve heard this news too, except I didn’t even know these wards existed.” You say. The High Lord paces some more, searching for something; what he was searching for you had no clue but you waited in silence for as long as he was quiet.

“After looking into your mind I see no reason to keep you in this cell any further,” The High Lord pauses, offering a smile as you breathe a sigh of relief, “but you can’t go back, either.”

“Please,” You plead, “I beg you, take me out of here.” You hope he sees the purple smudges that have appeared from your lack of sleep; lack of being able to stay sane.

“Oh, we’re taking you out,” your interrogator speaks, for the first time that day, “I’ll be watching over you the entire time.”

“W-where- where are you taking me?” Your arms tremble, the deathly temperature nipping away at your skin.

“The House of Wind,” The High Lord replies, “where my spymaster, Azriel, will be watching over you.”

-

The House of Wind was…it was something for sure with its ten thousand steps, of course, the view from the house was quite picturesque but you didn’t have time to admire it while you feel like Rapunzel in her tower, though even Rapunzel wasn’t given the luxury of ten thousand steps down to a city.

Your room, however, was definitely a score with its rustic four-post bed, old-fashioned red curtains that drooped low to the white-marble ground, and the grand walk in wardrobe: it was rich, yet tasteful. You really felt like a princess. Though, I suppose you aren’t far from it with you locked up high in building with little to no contact with the real world.

Being some princess wasn’t even the worst of your problems, no, no, the worst of your problems was the Fae man with swirling shadows surrounding him who looked like a God and barely spoke to you since he flew you up straight into your doom.

Right now, you were sitting in the library, the great spymaster only a couple of metres away from you, glancing at you every few minutes, his shadows no longer visible, as if they had melted into their surroundings.

“Is there absolutely nowhere else I can go? I have to stay up here?” Those are the first words you’ve spoken to him since you both arrived.

“Not necessarily.” You wish you could reach over and rip his throat out for being so short-spoken.

“Can you explain?” You grumble, turning the page of your book.

“I could fly you to anywhere, really,” He pauses deciding whether or not he should continue, “The only policy is that I have to watch over you.” Is he free all the time? Surely this man had his own duties.

“Don’t you have other duties? Couldn’t someone else watch over me?” You ask, keeping your eyes on your book.

“I have other people taking care of the work. This was an order from the High Lord.”

“So I’m stuck with you? All the time? I can’t even breathe without you stalking over me?” You huff; out of all the people you could’ve been stuck with… it had to be some quiet, short-spoken, boring shadowsinger (which by the way, no, you do not know what that means but you heard him mention something about it on your way here, you’re guessing it has something to do with the shadows coming out of his body), who can’t even hold a conversation to save his life?

“If you want your space go to your room and get naked, I assure you I won’t be coming in to see you any time soon while you’re in those conditions.” You have to admit it hurts that someone so pretty and so beautiful has just insinuated that he thinks your body is ugly, but the great spymaster- who you don’t even know the name of- doesn’t need to know that.

You scoff, “You fae have some audacity. Take me to some other library I can read in, I want to see more of this city.”

-

So he did, and you screamed as he took off into the air without any warning, and you screamed some more when you landed and saw in a puddle how messy your hair had become; it’s safe to say he didn’t give a damn at all, if anything you think he looked quite satisfied.

You learned that the priestesses ran the library, only allowing people they approved into the library, and for whatever reason they saw fit, they approved you. Maybe it was because you could relate to their experiences somehow, maybe they could feel the trauma in your past, but you didn’t say anything; just thanked them and went about on your conquest to find the filthiest, most smutty books to read.

So here you sat, your eyes pretending to read your book whilst your ears listened into the conversation he was having with some priestess of the library. Her name was Gwyn apparently, and though it was none of your business, you were interested anyway. She’s gorgeous. That’s the only comment there is to make, and she seems quite pleasant too, sincere and honest; but of course, she’s a priestess.

And you don’t miss the way the shadowsinger’s shadows dance and prance around her, celebrating and indulging her presence. They don’t show up around you, which meant that the shadowsinger actually must be friends with her. You gasp with realisation; maybe he even feels for her.

At least he can actually feel something.

“How much longer were you going to listen into my conversation?” He asks, crouching down beside you.

“I wasn’t listening, just observing.” You state, turning the corner of your page. He doesn’t answer.

A few moments later, he opens his mouth, “What did you observe?”

“Just some things,” you tease, he stares at you expectantly, “those shadows were dancing around her,” you turn another page, “maybe…it’s because you have feelings for her.”

“Shut up.” No blushing, no smiles, just a boring monotone face. What a dickhead.

Well at least one thing was clear; neither of you liked each other very much.

[pillarmenarevoregods]

Ask: Macro/Micro Vore Pillar Men and Joseph Joestar

First off, I am so so SO sorry for how long this took. Both real life responsibilities and the double standards I hold myself to about creating “quality content” meant my answer to this prompt sat in a half-finished state for a long time. I figure I should just post what I have now and hope it’s sufficient. 

@delcaty007​ (JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Macro/Micro Vore, Multiple Pred Scenarios, M/M, Non-fatal, Unwilling, Fearplay, Mentions of Digestion)

I had several ideas for this, and kind of debated which ones were worth fleshing out (or at least what I’d have the time/motivation for). This might not be fully fleshed out stories, but I hope it’s cool still.

I’m writing this in a premise of post-Battle Tendency, through some means, the Pillar Men come back to seek revenge: Kars is brought back from space, Esidisi and Wamuu are revived, and Santana is out of the Speedwagon vaults. BUT they are 30 feet tall and have no idea why/how that happened. They also find many of their abilities missing, BUT also can be in the sun! Yay! And then they find out the hard way that they can’t digest anything. Joseph’s gonna be stuck in a couple different belly jails.

I decided to write these in the order that Joseph fought the Pillar Men in canon. These can technically be independent scenarios of each other, or you can imagine it as the pillar men taking turns sending Joseph down the hatch if you want. I hope you enjoy!

Santana

He sure remembers how annoying that little primitive named Joseph Joestar was to him, and he’s going to find out what happened to him

He quickly learns about the events that transpired with his fellow Pillar Men and knows Joseph is alive

He actually wanted to seek out that Major Von Stroheim asshole first, because of well… I wouldn’t blame him. However he finds out Stroheim died and well, a little disappointing, at least there’s still JoJo to seek out

Once he locates him, Santana literally plunges his hand into the roof of Joseph’s home and grabs him

Joseph attempts to hamon him, but is shocked that… it no longer affects the pillar man. And how did he even get this large?

Santana smirks, considering it dumb for JoJo to even try using hamon when he’s literally outside in the daylight, unharmed.

Deep booming chuckle, “You idiot primitive…” and he starts squeezing Joseph in his hand, thinking it’ll be satisfying to feel his bones snap.

THEN his stomach gurgles and he has a better idea

Without another word, he quickly pops Joseph in his mouth, tilts his head back and swallows him faster than Joseph can process what just happened.

Joseph goes down Santana’s throat in shock, thrashing, trying to climb his way back up, but the muscles of Santana’s esophagus are no match and pull him down to his doom.

Joseph lands on what seems to be trees, brush, and random animals (still alive). It seems like Santana tried swallowing a LOT of different things

Somewhat to his relief, Joseph notices that nothing has really digested.

Santana, on the other hand, can’t care less about what’s happening inside his stomach. He has that annoying JoJo right where he belonged. The weight in his stomach and the occasional minor sting of attempted hamon only tickled a bit. 

Joseph wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and Santana likewise said nothing when meeting back up with the other Pillar Men.

The first thought on their minds was to find Joseph too, and Santana had to press his tongue in his cheek at knowing that he simultaneously got to stick it to Kars by eating his “mortal enemy” before he could.  

Esidisi

He remembers how he died, and while on one hand respects Joseph for winning against him, isn’t going to pass up the opportunity to get his own revenge

Finds Joseph out on a solo boating trip (convenient, right?) and all Joseph can see is some massive force swimming in the water rushing towards him

Esidisi rises up like a colossal beast, picking Joseph’s boat out of the water

“JoooJooo, it’s been a while, huh? What, like 10 years?” Esidisi makes sure to smile wide and show off his sharp teeth, bringing the small boat in his hand closer to his face.

Joseph probably pisses himself (let’s be real), screaming “OH MY GOD” or “HOLY SHIT,” which is music to Esidisi’s ears, causing him to belt out laughing.

“Didn’t think you’d see me again, didya?!” Joseph doesn’t even have a response, he’s just thrashing and yelling at this point

“You remember our conversation about the Art of War, yeah? Well I hope you do. Sun Tzu told me one more bit of advice that has truly been the most beneficial to me...”

He lifts Joseph up above his face, “’Keep your friends close, your enemies even closer.’” before dropping Joseph in his open mouth.

Esidisi hums in appreciation as Joseph flails on his tongue before jerking his head back and giving a thorough swallow to send him down.

He places his hand over his stomach, relishing in the sensation of pounding helplessly at his stomach walls, and feeling confident that he can go back to Kars to report that JoJo has been “taken care of.”

After a long while of walking and swimming through the ocean, he notices Joseph was still active inside him. He would have started digesting by now, right?

Esidisi figures all that physical motion may be disrupting digestion, so he finds a coast to sit on and waits it out, occasionally making small remarks to the man inside him

Gets frustrated and cries eventually because why won’t he digest?? Esidisi at first accepted that there were caveats to being alive again and being able to see the Sun finally, but come on

He already couldn’t use his blood vessels, couldn’t absorb the only advantage he had was being giant and still being able to contort his body, and now he can’t even digest someone he’s eaten?

Joseph meanwhile is yelling and pounding on the stomach walls, trying to hamon his way out. Esidisi is very pleased to see that the hamon is ineffective inside him, in fact it just tickles a bit.

The little pounding and yelling and screams eventually become annoying, though. Esidisi has some important pondering he needs to do on what his new life is now, and the squirming noisy human in his stomach keeps distracting him.

He sits down somewhere to ponder whether the trade-offs are worth it, has to tell Joseph, “Shut up and let me think!”

Wamuu

When Wamuu “woke back up” and noticed his masters had, too, one of his first thoughts was strangely where Joseph Joestar was currently.

He wondered whether Kars had succeeded in killing him and taking ascended as the Ultimate Being.

However, when he saw Lord Kars, also made giant by whatever spell or curse has brought them all back to life and made them 30 feet tall, Wamuu could quickly assume by the tantrum he was throwing that Joseph had also defeated him in some way.

While Wamuu didn’t exactly WANT Joseph to defeat himself or Lord Kars, he still believed in a fair fight and that a winner should be able to keep their victory.

Hearing Kars and Esidisi plot together to find Joseph and enact revenge on him (hell, even Santana is making comments about finding “that annoying JoJo”), Wamuu realizes if he wants to ensure his opponent could keep his honor, he’ll have to find the Joestar before the other Pillar Men did.

While locating him, Wamuu picks up and swallows a bunch of humans (he’s a nervous eater, he needs to snack under pressure you know?)

After several hours of the humans still pounding and yelling inside of his stomach, he realizes something was off… they should have been digesting by now, yet they’re still alive and active

Wamuu thinks it’s only fair to spit them up and let them go. He’s a little embarrassed and tactfully apologizes to these humans, “I did not expect for you to still be alive. Please forgive me, if I had known you weren’t going to digest I wouldn’t have swallowed you in the first place.” Thanks good guy Wamuu, very reassuring.   

When he does find Joseph (on a camping trip in the middle of the woods, alone…), he kneels down in a clearing just as Joseph is about to approach that area.

Boy is he surprised to see a giant man kneeling in the normally empty field, especially a man he killed 10 years ago… but giant

“JoJo, we meet again.” Queue the “OH! MY! GODDD!” and trying to runaway classic Joseph Joestar style

Wamuu picks him up like an ant between his fingers and brings him closer to his face.

“I am doing this for your own good, JoJo.” and he opened his mouth wide, held a squirming yelling little Joseph over his mouth and dropped him in, tossed his head back and swallowed.

Unfortunately Wamuu forgot to tell Joseph that he wasn’t going to die,  only places his hand unconsciously over his stomach, kneading his thumb into the area Joseph is pounding at 

When meeting with his Masters (who were unsuccessful at finding Joseph… gee I wonder why) still has his hand over his belly, trying to sooth the commotion inside.

Kars even asks if Wamuu is ill, to which Wamuu responds with “I ate something that isn’t agreeing with me.” Well, he’s not wrong

He will have to let Joseph out… eventually. But right now he just wants to keep him safe and hidden. When that will be? No one knows - especially not Wamuu or Joseph....

Kars

Oh, this man is NOT happy. All that time in space, going slowly insane? Yeah, he has it in for Joseph Joestar.

Just shortly after he stops thinking, he finds himself rapidly pulled back to Earth and suddenly much larger than he remembers being before.

It takes him a bit to gain all his thoughts back, but of course he’s elated once he realizes his companions are back as well.

After rejoicing the return of Esidisi and Wamuu (maybe at least a little happy to see Santana again, as well), he went about pursuing his new important goal

Joseph Joestar needed to feel the fear and despair he himself felt while drifting through space. He decided he wouldn’t kill him… yet.

He needed to see Joseph suffer the same way he had, killing him too quickly would just end that fun.

Kars wanted to take Joseph down in the most humiliating way - it’s only fair after being defeated in front of his enemies in such a humiliating way.

Joseph happened to be at his work office, doing business as usual in his life free of being a hamon warrior

Therefore, it was absolutely unexpected when a giant hand plunges through the glass pane window, grabs Joseph off-guard and holds him tightly in front of the face of the man in his nightmares.

In fact, he seriously just thinks he’s dreaming. Joseph covers his eyes and yells, “I’m dreaming! This is a dream! I’m going to wake up now in three, two, one…..”

Kars waits a beat for dramatic effect before hissing “Zero.” He licks his lips, being able to sense the pure dread and terror of his prey. Oh, it’s making him absolutely giddy

“I want you to know what it feels like, JoJo… To have all your hopes and dreams unfairly stolen from you.” Kars raises him high above his head, and watches the little man squirm. He’s definitely finding this cathartic.

“I drifted through space, not knowing if I’d ever escape that torture. All of my accomplishments going to waste, because of you! I believe it’s only fair, JoJo, that I give you a taste of what I experienced.”

Without much effort, he casually tosses Joseph high up in the air (but not too hard, because he doesn’t want Joseph to actually go into space

As Joseph falls back down from the sky, Kars waits with his mouth wide open and snaps his jaw shut once the screaming man lands in his mouth.

He doesn’t wait long before swallowing, while focusing on ever little sensation of his enemy wriggle down his throat. Finally, he’s conquered the Sun AND Joseph Joestar.

Even after several hours and realizing his stomach wasn’t digesting his prey, Kars accepted that it was poetic justice in a way that Joseph would remain alive, trapped for an indefinite amount of time in his stomach, just like he had been trapped in space

[that-bi-bitch-writes]

Huge Ego?

Pairing:  Thor x Male Reader

Word Count: 800 (short, sorry!)

Warnings: Anxiety, Sadness, angst, lots of self doubt Fluff and Happy endings (mentions of offscreen sex towards the end)

Requested by: Anon-Hey sorry to bother you, but would you be able to write a fic of Bucky or Thor? If you want to know any info about me for the fic incase you want to put me in as the y/n. I’m 5’, I have below shoulder length hair, my friends say I have a feminine body for being male as well. I’m not good with requests so sorry if I’m all over the place...

Storyline: Anxiety riddled witch male reader is still a badass with a hot boyfriend (sadly badassery is offscreen)

A/N: I was yet again listening to Marina and the Diamonds and I got double inspired. Also anon I included some of your descriptions but I tried to make the rest of the story general for other readers. I hope you enjoy!!!

Okay most of this was though of/ written in September of 2018. It is August of 2020, I’m so sorry it took me forever to release this. I think I made it angstier but hopefully it pays off in the end. I’m now listening to Ribs by Lorde but thanks Marina. Also this totally disregards endgame.

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

You were reluctant to join the avengers. Especially after hearing about how confrontational they were. It was weird how much they argued or how they sometimes acted like the world revolved around them. Like come on, you are superheroes with no secret identities, everything you do will be broadcasted all over the news. Reporters will scrutinize your every behavior, every change in your look, every curve of your body, and you’re just okay with it? Okay with embarrassing yourselves publicly by squabbling like a married couple?

 It’s like having a huge ego was a requirement to become an avenger. One box you couldn’t check. With that being said you did want to be an avenger. You needed to be an avenger. So what else could you do but fake it. Act like you're better than everyone else otherwise you have to face reality. You didn’t want to admit that you felt a need to be an avenger so your life could have purpose. And you definitely didn’t want to admit that I was afraid that no one would ever need me in their life.

So far faking it has relatively worked out great. You joined the avengers, kicked some ass, and got a hot boyfriend. Yeah, hot boyfriend. 

Thor has made you feel like I’ve never felt before. He makes you feel loved and appreciated.  NEEDED. He needs your love because he wants it, he relishes in it. And you honestly can’t deny you feel the same way. Yet you’re terrified that everyone else will realize I’m not as confident as I seem and I’m scared that they’ll figure out that they don’t need me. And the bolder I pretend to be the safer I feel.

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

“How does so much ego fit in a body so short? I mean come on he’s shorter than Tony but acts just like him” clint asks as soon as Y/N is out of earshot

“That’s because it’s fake” thor answers

“What?”

“The confidence, it’s all fake”

“Tony’s or Y/N’s?”

“Both! Have you not been paying attention? They’re like loki just divided in two. Tony has deeply rooted psychological problems most probably stemming from his father and Y/n has been suffering from anxiety. He’s been afraid that we’ll leave him because of his faults. He’s afraid we don’t love him like he loves us and I’ve just about had enough. I’ve quietly tried to show him that he means the world to me and the rest of the team would suffer without him but he doesn’t believe it. I can’t convince him on my own so everyone needs to find a way to let Y/N know how you really feel about him.” Thor explained

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

You laid in bed next to the god you had the pleasure of calling your boyfriend. You ran your hand through his hair while looking in his eyes. Thor rested his forehead on yours placing his hand behind your head, slowly rubbing his thumb behind your ear before inhaling deeply.

“My love” thor began “I have told the others about your issues with anxiety. I’m sorry for betraying your trust but I’m not sorry for letting your friends know you’re struggling. Now that they know they can help and I want you to get all the help there is”

“Thor I don’t know what you want to say. I’m not sorry that you told them. I’m not sorry that I hid it and I’m not sorry that you told me. Everything that has happened led me to this moment. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I’m surrounded by love and doing good in the world. The only thing I’m sorry about is making you suffer with me. I love you and I love our friends. To me there is nothing better than just lying here in your arms, thinking one day I’ll marry this man. That day may not be today but it’ll come soon. In the meantime I want you to make love to me. I want you to set every nerve in my body on fire while you whisper sweet nothings in my ear.”

You woke up the next morning so appreciative of the world for finally allowing something to go right for once. Thor had been the reason the team had been more expressive, and not even just because he made them, you could tell they meant it. It didn’t chase off every negative thought but it did make you feel like you had a safe space to be yourself, confident day or not.

Thor may not have been perfect, but in between explaining the most simple of ‘midgardian’ customs and tools, he paid attention.

You sighed as your eyes fluttered closed once more. The last thought before your consciousness slipped away 

“Himbo Rights.”

[kda-chat]

Kai’Siv Hercules Inspired AU

Long Post Warning! Inspired by Disney’s Heracles, changed the Greek mythology to Egyptian mythology. Because of that, there are slight variations compared to the original story. Just know this is just a simple, general AU post and I hope you enjoy! :)

XXX

Shai, God of Fate and Destiny, foretold a prophecy: Set, God of the Desert, Storms, and Evil, will one day overthrow Anubis, God of Funerals, Mummification, and the Afterlife and take over Duat- the Realm of the Dead. With Anubis gone, this leaves Osiris, Lord of the Underworld, and Set's brother, vulnerable to overthrow. The downfall of Anubis and Osiris will destroy the Mortal Realm, crumbling Egypt to the ground. However, a mortal champion, chosen by Anubis, will rise to stop Set. No matter what, this champion will be successful.

To prevent the second half of the prophecy from coming true, Set sent ruthless sandstorms around temples that worshiped Anubis, depriving him of followers. For many years, Anubis' temples were barren and empty, loss of faith.

One day, a poor woman, on the verge of death, finds herself in the footsteps of Anubis' temple, carrying a baby. She begs the deity to save her child's life before succumbing to death. Anubis, knowing the prophecy is now set, takes in the baby, and names her Sivir. Gifting her with godlike strength, he requests aid from Ra, God of the Sun. Ra sends down his demi god champion, Azir, to help.

Azir is Sivir's ancestor [Azir was human at one point, thousands of years ago], thus why he was chosen to become her parental figure, taking on a human disguise. His role is to guide Sivir and raise her in the Mortal Realm, to learn and understand about humanity. However, Sivir grew up isolated and distrustful. The other children and parents were fearful of Sivir's inhuman strength and treated her like an outcast. Worried, Azir then took in another child named Taliyah from an exiled village that was destroyed by bandits. Thus, Sivir and Taliyah got along and became close friends. Taliyah didn't mind Sivir's strength and saw her as an older sister that protected her.

One day, Azir reveals Sivir's destiny to her, after she had been questioning her existence and role in this world. He tells her to visit the Temple of Anubis, who will then prepare her for her fight against Set.

Sivir travels to the Temple of Anubis and meets Anubis himself. He tells her about her mother, how she came to him, and now what she needs to do. Anubis sends his champions down to Earth, Nasus and Renekton, to train Sivir. Nasus will teach her how to use her mind in the face of battle, using strategy, plans, and tactics to win. Renekton will teach Sivir about bravery and perseverance, how to use her godlike strength to win. The two brothers have different views of strength and often fight about it. [Insert Sivir's workout montage and getting buff.]

Meanwhile, Set has found out about Sivir. Using spies to observe the young woman, he noticed her attraction towards women. So Set chooses Kai'sa to hopefully "slow down" Sivir's progress and kill her.

Kai'sa is a mortal girl, a victim of the Void- an empty space that is filled with gruesome monsters. Kai'sa once loved another woman [I guess this can be Cassiopeia but I'll leave it blank]. When her lover was trapped in the Void, Kai'sa rushed in to save her but was betrayed by the lover and left in the Void for many years. This made Kai'sa distrustful and cynical towards romance. The only thing that kept her sanity in the Void was her need to survive for her father, Kassadin, who thought she was dead.

Set makes a deal with Kai'sa. He will release Kai'sa from the Void, and return her to her father if she seduces Sivir and kills her. Kai'sa takes the deal.

At this point, Sivir has grown stronger and wiser under Nasus and Renekton's guidance. She has conquered different trials to test her abilities, gaining respect and honor from the people that ostracized her. She was now a hero in their eyes.

In an "accident" at the river, Sivir rescues Kai'sa and falls deeply in love. Kai'sa was unlike any other girl that Sivir fancied, her beauty was mesmerizing to gaze at. And so, for a while, Sivir took time out of her training to pursue Kai'sa [which pissed Nasus and Renekton off, who were suspicious of Kai'sa]. She slowly realized that this wasn't an "I want your body" type of love, it was an "I want you to be my life partner" type of love. During this, Kai'sa plays along to get Sivir's affections, while trying to get her killed. But each time, Sivir cunningly survives [not knowing it's Kai'sa's doing] and it starts to impress the young Void woman.

But as Kai'sa learned more about Sivir, she started seeing who Sivir really was. This strong woman was a huge softy that just wanted to be liked and accepted. Sivir admitted at being resentful of humanity for rejecting her but has grown to forgive them. She spoke fondly of Taliyah and her parental figure, Azir. Sivir was a well-rounded individual that had a big heart. Kai'sa started seeing how Sivir was the complete opposite of her former lover, and slowly fell in love. [Insert famous "I Won't Say I'm in Love" scene with Ahri, Akali, and Evelynn as the muses]

At first, Set is concerned that Kai'sa has fallen for Sivir, but then realizes that Kai'sa was now Sivir's weakness. During a confrontation where Kai'sa declares that she won't hurt Sivir anymore, even at the cost of losing her freedom from the Void and seeing her father again, Set captures her and sets a trap. He lures Sivir in to save Kai'sa, bargaining with her: If she gives up all of her strength and powers for twenty-four hours, she can have Kai'sa. Sivir makes Set promise that Kai’sa will not get hurt. He agrees to the deal [Kai'sa is gagged and unable to talk back]. Sivir accepts the deal because she cares for Kai'sa that much. Once the bargain was made, Set reveals that Kai'sa worked for him and now can go after his brother and take over Duat without fearing for Sivir.

Lost, broken, betrayed, Sivir is useless to fight against the onslaught of monsters that are now fighting in Duat. Kai'sa is equally as guilty, realizing that she was no different from her former lover. However, she still wanted to help Sivir and rushes to Nasus and Renekton, persuading them to go back to Sivir to help her. They do, returning to Sivir and reminding her that pure strength isn't just muscle but it's also the mind and the heart, bravery and intellect. In her renewed confidence, Sivir is able to take down a chimera. In the process, however, Kai'sa is brutally injured while trying to protect Sivir- breaking the promise Set said about letting Kai'sa be safe. This allows Sivir to regain her powers but at the cost of Kai'sa's life. When questioned why she tried to save Sivir, Kai'sa confesses her love for her.

Rushing to come back to Kai'sa, Sivir succeeds in stopping Set from his plans. However, when she comes back, Kai'sa has died from her injuries. Anubis offers Sivir to search for Kai'sa's soul in Duat, in an area where souls must triumph challenges before the "Weighing of the Heart" test. Anubis warns that Sivir might not return from Duat because she is still technically a mortal and can get lost in this area of Duat forever. Sivir does not hesitate to search for Kai'sa. She overcomes the challenges that the dead has to maneuver, searching for Kai'sa's soul. She finds Kai'sa alone, taunted by the betrayal of her former lover, which halts her journey to the "Weighting of the Heart" test.

Kai'sa, looks up to see Sivir has found her, but she is hesitant because the idea of a possible betrayal is taunting her. Sivir assures her that she will never let go of her hand and promises to return her to Kassadin, guiding her way back to the Mortal Realm. As they make their way back, Kai'sa is assured that she can fully trust Sivir and apologizes profusely for hurting Sivir earlier. 

They make it back, safe and sound. The balance is maintained, the prophecy fulfilled. Anubis grants Sivir to be a demi-god like Azir but that meant leaving Kai'sa behind because she is still a mortal. Kai'sa assures Sivir that she will be fine, she thinks Sivir deserves this high honor. But Sivir rejects Anubis' offer and chooses to stay with Kai'sa, reminding her that she promised to return her to her father.

In the end, Azir returns to Ra, and tells Sivir that he will greatly miss her- his daughter. Renekton and Nasus say their goodbyes, crying and moping while trying to act cool. Sivir returns to her hometown with Kai'sa, letting her meet Taliyah, before embarking to find Kassadin. Once they find Kassadin, reuniting father and daughter, the two of them live happily ever after.

XXX

I hope you enjoyed. Yes, Akali, Ahri, and Evelynn don’t have a big appearance in this one but let Kai’siv have their moment since I left them out in the other AUs. I hope you enjoyed because it was fun to imagine! Now I’ve done all three couples, Akalynn- Beauty and the Beast AU, BladeMaven - Little Mermaid AU, and now Kai’Siv. :) Special thanks to Kaya for inspiring me.

[goldenfawnwriting]

Birds Of A Feather- Part 13 Hawks Fic

Summary: Finch is training with the commission now, the training intense and nearly deadly, can it get any worse?

A/N: I keep turning off my keyboard lights while I’m writing this and I’m about to throw this damn thing also I’m running out of Gifs lord help me

Warnings: Violence, angst, emotional trauma

It had been another week of torture, another week of mental and physical torture. Finch’s body was so close to collapse as she walked into her apartment, falling onto the couch again. It went like this pretty often, her body unable to keep up with the routines and so, she could almost never make it back to her actual bedroom. Hawks had been away on a business trip for the past three days, Asami was busy with her hero work. Finch had no one to turn to and tears began running down her cheeks. It had been so much more than stressful, it had been spirit breaking, absolutely awful. 

Her muscles felt as if they had been shredded, her mind was exhausted, she couldn’t even lift a finger if it saved her life while she was in this shape. And so she passed out on the couch, her body finally succumbing to exhaustion. 

What she wasn’t aware of, was that the very next day she would really be put to the test. The red winged man had been away for a reason, the commission had made sure he wouldn’t be around to intervene and it only crossed her mind when she stepped up on a ledge, blindfolded, the next day.

“You are blindfolded today and handcuffed for one reason today Finch, do you know what reason?”

She stayed silent. She had learned that not everything was meant to be answered. 

“We’ll be putting your flying to the test today.”

“I-I’ve never flown before-”

“You have wings for a reason. And I do hope they work, or you’’ll be in some real trouble her win a second.”

The man spoke. There was a cold sweat on her forehead as she felt a breeze go by. More than a breeze actually, it was wind. She was getting confused, what were they going to have her do exactly? There was hands at the back of her head and she twitched slightly at the touch, the blindfold being untied and removed. Her face went pale.

She stood atop the agency building, almost 40 stories high. Her stomach dropped and she glanced back tot he man standing behind her. Multiple men actually, some with clipboards, some using voice recorders as they mumbled notes into the speakers. They were going to throw her off the roof...

“H-hey, I don’t think this is really the way, shouldn’t we take this a little-”

The mans hand laid on her stomach as she turned towards them and with as much as she fought against going off the edge, it wasn’t more than a few seconds before she was free falling, her voice going hoarse as she screamed. 

How was she supposed to just fly?! How was she supposed to just do it?! She was panicking big time, the g-force of falling nearly blacking her vision, she couldn’t even see against the wind whipping around her face, her hair cutting into her skin, or at least it felt like it. With all the thoughts wrecking her mind she finally set eyes on the ground, which was very quickly approaching her, at an alarming pace actually. She took a note out of Hawks’ book, thinking back to all the times he had flown from the window of the office. She spread her wings, the wind making it increasingly difficult. It shouldn’t be that hard, she’d watched him do it a million times. 

She was starting to panic more and more, her mind racing as she started to cry. The tears were whipped off her face faster than she could get them out. She struggled harder to get her wings out, and at this point she was so close to the ground she wasn’t sure if it would save her or not. She squeezed her eyes shut as the ground came closer when suddenly she ascended, the wind catching her and ripping her upwards. 

“Come on dove, we’ve got to do better than that!”

She heard through the wind. Her eyes came open, squirming around to look at the man above her, his wings outstretched and carrying them both. 

“H-Hawks!”

“Alright, gorgeous, stretch those wings out for me!”

She did as she was told, letting her wings out as far as she could.

“Good job! Now just keep them out and you’ll glide!”

“Hawks don’t let go-!”

His arms disappeared from around her waist and she screeched, closing her eyes shut again.

“Just keep them out!”

It was a moment before she heard his voice come through the wind again.

“Haha, look at that princess, you’re doing it!”

She felt her stomach flip and she opened her eyes, looking down at the city below her. 

“Hawks! I’m flying! Oh my god I’m flying!”

He chuckled down at her and took in her spread wings below him. She looked amazing in the air. 

“We’ll have to do a couple more flying lessons and get you a visor but, you really are a natural!”

He grabbed her as he stopped them on the sidewalk, a few bystanders surrounding to ooo and ahh at them. 

“Lets get back to the agency, I need to have a talk with them about their methods also.”

He grumbled, shoving his hand into his pockets as they walked back. 

“Wait, where have you been the past couple days?”

“Had to work on a case with another district.”

She nodded at his short answer and followed behind him silently after that. He seemed pretty mad.

^^^

She waited patiently in the office as she was told, Hawks on the other side of the glass door to the hallway, yelling at some poor kid about what they had just done. As she waited she was revisiting the memory of finally flying. Suddenly, she heard the door close and a loud sigh. 

“God I hate the people here...”

Hawks groaned, slumping down in the chair across from her. She didn’t reply, she wasn’t really sure how to, truth be told. 

“Are you ok?”

She looked up to him with wide eyes. It had been awhile before anyone asked her that.

“Oh y-ya I’m fine.”

“they just threw you off a building Finch-”

“I’m trying to be a hero Hawks, worse could happen.”

“You would’ve died-”

“And thank you for saving me. I appreciate it.”

She stood up and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“I have to get back to training, it was nice to take a break though, thanks.”

“Finch no, you’re done with training today.”

“I can’t just be done with training Hawks, I have to be better.”

There was a pause and she started to walk towards the door before Hawks shot up, grabbing her by the arm.

“You’re done for the day.”

He growled sternly, pulling her to turn towards him. She ripped her arm away from him.

“I have to do better Hawks.”

He looked at the look in her eye and half of him was scared. There was a spark in her eye, a glint of fire, that gave him a chill.

“Finch, you’re going to overwork yourself and end up dead, you can’t become a hero in one day.”

Finch looked down and he could see her tearing up.

“Don’t do this to yourself, I’ve seen way too many fizzle out this way-”

“Hawks, I don’t have the time to mess around and be lazy-”

“Finch, don’t believe everything the commission tells you, they just want to profit.”

He reached out to her, trying to pull her close but she only turned, walking out the door. He didn’t chase her, knowing she needed some space.

As she made her way home and couldn’t stop her head from going a mile a minute. Something didn’t feel right, something inside her was fighting a war, it felt like. She just wanted to be a hero, but half of her was growing a hatred for the whole idea.

For days and days of training the hatred only grew, she slowly began to resent the system, how heros were awarded shining medals and glory for simply doing what was right for the people around them, any other idea was written down as villain. They told her if she went about her business, lived a normal life and didn’t throw herself into everyone else’s problems that she was suddenly a horrid person. 

As she sat in bed at night her mind only continued with the questions. How could that say that then torture her? They called it ‘training’ when they threw her off the tallest building they could day after day. Slowly, she was beginning to resent the commission, their practices, their methods. 

After training one day she ran a bath, soaking in the cold water. It felt like a dark smoke was taking over her mind, creeping in slowly, the stress of it all beginning to engulf her. The mental strain, the questions, the loneliness. She had effectively pushed everyone away from herself, driving herself mad with stress. 

She was so engulfed in herself she didn’t realize when the door slowly creaked open, letting Hawks peer into the bathroom to set eyes on the woman, sat curled up in the freezing water. 

“F-finch? Are you alright?”

He came closer when she didn’t reply, her mind in a completely different place. 

“Finch?”

He called. When she still didn’t reply he shot forward, concern enveloping him, but as soon as his fingers grazed her shoulder she went stiff as a board, growling lowly.

“Get away.”

“F-Finch,”

He caressed her shoulder delicately, trying to be as gentle as possible. 

“Tell me what’s wrong princess...”

She sucked in a breath and paused before she let it out and replied.

“You need to go.”

“Why?”

“It’s not safe here!”

He was taken aback. 

“W-what do you mean? You’re home Finch...”

“No where is safe anymore...”

She whimpered, a rough sob punching her in the chest. He grabbed the towel off the rack quickly and wrapped her up, pulling her out of the bath, when he felt how cold the water was. 

“Finch you’re going to get hypothermia, why is it so cold in here?”

“It’s hot.”

“It’s freezing-”

He set her down on her bed, going to brush her hair away from her face, feeling her forehead raging with fever. He felt guilty. He should’ve checked up on her sooner, he should’ve stayed close, made sure nothing was going wrong.

“Finch you need to take a break.”

“No..”

She choked out, wrapping her wings tight around her.

“It wasn’t a question. This has to stop, you’re killing yourself trying to get to a goal that you’ll throw away at this rate. You can't be a hero like this, I don’t care how determined you are.”

He scolded. She was silent before she stood shakily, getting dressed and making her way to the door.

“Where are you going? You’re not leaving.”

“I have to train more Hawks, I can’t waste time.

“Finch you’re not wasting time taking care of yourself, you’ll work yourself to death.”

“There’s no breaks in the real world.”

She mumbled.

[minnuet-archive]

I’m Sorry, Logan

Rating: PG-13

Trigger Warnings: Alcoholism, suicide, abusive family, homophobia (let me know if there are any more i missed!)

Word Count: 3,754

Fan-fiction or Original Work? Original Work

Story Type: Short Story

Notes: I wrote this a while back for a book that was going to be made, but didn’t end up happening. It was about suicide awareness and the different reasons for it. There was to be informative writing about the topic and cause and then a short story. This is the short story. Also, I spent a solid hour or two revamping and editing this for you all today since I couldn’t post much about my soon to be posted book. I hope you enjoy!

I wake up to my alarm blaring in my ears. My eyelids refuse to lift, the world a blurry mess.  I stumble into my uniform, the alarm still blaring.  Eventually, my patience runs out and I shut off the alarm. I snatch my backpack out from the corner of my room before hastily grabbing a granola bar and running to the bus parked outside.

I jump into the bus and walk down the aisle, all of the noise, ranging from random conversation to yelling and fighting, filling my ears and overwhelming my mind. I almost want to put my hands to my ears and drown out the noise, but someone’s bound to take offense. As I sit down in a seat next to the seemingly quietest kids, the horrible stench of what are probably 10-year-old raisins with a generous side of sweaty gym socks permeates my nose. I hate the bus. I decide to try spacing out. 

Arriving at school, I go into the girl’s bathroom and wait until everyone leaves. I look really weird waiting for people to leave, and I don’t care. Actually, that’s not true. I definitely care. 

Once everyone’s gone, I slip out of my catholic school skirt and into far more comfortable slacks. My mother had refused to get me anything but the “girl’s” uniform which consisted of a tight, long skirt and a blouse. 

I hear the bell and run to class, bursting into the classroom and sliding into my seat directly after my name is called. 

“Late.” I  groan and get out my homework. Why does it have to be me?

Vanessa and her friends snicker across the classroom. “Hey look, the plant’s here.”

My ears burned and I clenched my teeth. Those obnoxious jerks. I’m not a plant. “My name’s E-” My eyes widen as I catch myself. “-Ellie.” 

Vanessa gasps dramatically and then says, “It can talk?!”

I don’t respond and give her what she wants, but it takes all of my strength not to. God, how am I so stupid? I don’t care if I’m using the Lord’s name in vain. I already let them know I was asexual! And if I let it slip? “My name’s Elliott.” I can only imagine the crap they’d do and say to me. What would I tell them? “Oh yeah, by the way, I’m nonbinary.” That would totally work. 

I take deep breaths. I look at the teacher and then to the board, and suddenly, zoning becomes much easier. The lunch bell rings after a while and I walk towards the courtyard, finding one of the trees in the corner that no one ever sat by. It’s sad and droopy. I wish I couldn’t relate.

“Hey, Elliott!” I flinch at the noise. He smiles and sits down next to me. 

I relax and say, “Hey, Logan. How was the class?”

“Class was crappy,” I crack a smile and when I do, he adds “as always. I love how you did your hair today. It’s pretty.”

My mouth goes dry and I fidget with my hands, forcing myself to smile. I shove my (sadly, homemade) peanut butter jelly sandwich into my mouth and then spend a ridiculous amount of time trying to swallow enough of it to even be able to chew. 

We talk and smile, though he does most of the talking, and I force myself to listen, because he always has great things to say.

The lunch bell ringing is jarring and sudden enough to make me jump, but that isn’t saying much. I grin at Logan. “ I’ll see you tomorrow, man. Bye!” 

He high fives me and starts walking towards his classroom. I walk towards mine. After Mr. Simon takes role call and I raise my hand and answer a question once, I figure I’m safe and promptly space out for the rest of the day.

The bell rings and right as I’m about to walk out of the door, I heard Mr. Simon say, “Eleanor, may I speak to you?” A collective ‘oooh’ sound comes from what’s remaining of the class, suggesting I’m in trouble, as I walk up to his desk.

“Can I help you, Mr. Simon?” 

“Do you remember the dress code guidelines we went over at the beginning of the year?” 

I start to panic. “Uh, yeah.”

“Then you remember that girls are to wear skirts and a blouse and that boys are to wear a button down and slacks.” 

I mutter that I might remember something like that. “Why can’t I wear pants? I’m not wearing anything completely out of school uniform.”

“Yes, but we have a strict dress code and you, as a girl,” I flinch at the word girl. Of course, I can’t correct him. “are to wear a skirt. If you come to school tomorrow wearing pants, I’ll have you change back into a skirt, confiscate the pants, and then call your parents.” 

I nod my head as if I understand, which I don’t, and then walk out of the classroom. I know he hates me, but I had no clue he would go to these lengths to get me in trouble. What the hell kind of person would go to the lengths of confiscating pants? None of my other teachers cared! He’s just an asshole!

I really don’t want to wear a skirt and that was only the first time I wore pants. On the other hand, I don’t want them to get taken away because I had to save up for months to get them and I really want to avoid having to deal with my parents.

As I walk home, I approach the entrance to the Golden Gate Bridge and smile. It’s so beautiful. Late afternoon fog is quite unusual this time of year and most people don’t like it, but I’m secretly happy about it. 

I love walking along the bridge in the morning because it’s so easy to clear my mind. The wind can make my hair clothes flap wildly in the wind which is annoying, but the feeling of the cold wind can be comforting. The smell of saltwater in the air fills my nose as I approach one end of the bridge.  I start to cross the bridge, right into the fog. It’s peaceful and the moist air feels cool and nice against my skin. 

After around 45 minutes, I come out on the other side of the bridge. 

As I walk, I fantasize about laying down on the couch and not worrying about homework.  Not because I finished it, but because I’m planning on procrastinating. 

I turn down my street and see my house. As I approach it, I realize that my house has been egged. I see a note on the door and run up and grab it. Get out of here, fag. You don’t belong here. 

Vanessa, her boyfriend, and their horrible friends were right about the last part. I don’t belong here. I wish I could leave, but it isn’t exactly possible. I rip up the note and look up at the eggs that are covering my home. 

I don’t want to clean this up… but my parents will ask why it happened if I don’t. Plus, they’ll make me do it anyway. I sigh as I trudge inside to grab a mop and some other cleaning supplies. 

Opening the closet door, I grab everything I think I might need, which is a lot. I’ve never cleaned up eggs, so I’m just guessing. 

I turn back to trudge outside again and start to wipe the door with a random rag that I found. Once I finish cleaning everything that I can reach from the ground, I place all my supplies on the roof overhang, awkwardly climbing onto it. 

I get on my knees shakily and start to clean the roof. Damn, can these kids throw. It takes what seems like years, but is probably just a couple hours to finish cleaning the house. 

Taking a risk, I jump from the overhang. I didn’t break any bones! Yay!  I grab all of the cleaning supplies and shove them back into the closet as I walk to my room. I get changed into some paint-stained jeans and a band t-shirt that my parents begrudgingly bought me for Christmas. 

I walk back out and throw myself on the couch. I log into the only social media my parents let me have and open a chat with one of my best friends,  AchillesIsTheTrueGayIcon, also known as Bentley (or Ben). Sometimes I call him Benjamin just to annoy him.

Me: What’s up, Benjamin?

He responds almost immediately.

Ben: Asshole. But not much. You?

Me: You want to know who the real assholes are? The jerks from school who egged my house.

Ben: Oof. That sucks, dude.

Ben: Hey I gtg do homework. Talk later?

Me: Sure.

I turn off my phone and put it down. I hear my mom pull up so I sit up and take out my school binder. I place my homework from yesterday in front of me so I look like I’ve been doing homework since the second I got home.

As soon as I finish setting up my fake homework station, she walks in. “Hey, mom!” No. Too cheery. Calm down. 

She smiles happily, “Hi, Ellie!” I cringe at my old name. At least she didn’t notice my overly excited greeting. “How was your day?” My little sister, Adia follows her in and then runs to our room. 

I consider telling her that my day hasn’t been great, but decide against it. There are only two outcomes. The first is that she wouldn’t care and tell me to suck it up. The second is that it would just invoke a flurry of questions. Neither sounds particularly fun. “It was good. Yours?”

“It was fine. Busy as always,” I give her a knowing nod and then I see her smile slowly fade. “You didn’t make yourself dinner, did you?”

“No, not yet.” I smile sheepishly and she sighs loudly in annoyance.

“Alright. Dinner will be ready soon.”

I roll my eyes and she scoffs as she walks into the kitchen, tossing her bags onto a chair at the table. I hear Adia’s footsteps approaching before I see her jump onto the couch beside me.

“Hi, Adia. Did you have fun at daycare today?”

”Yeah! I played with Sammy!” 

“That’s fun.” She smiles proudly as if having a friend is something to be proud of, which in my case, is true, but in her case, not so much. She has a lot of friends. 

“I got to see all mommy’s friends, too! They’re so nice!” 

I’m contemplating how untrue that is when I hear my mom start to reheat leftovers from last night. She tosses all of the food on three plates the same way she did her bag. 

Wow. Soon really did mean soon.

My mom presses the power button on the remote and we pretend to watch a sitcom as we shovel food into our faces. Eventually, the episode ends. Too lazy to change the channel, we leave it alone and ignore it.

My mom is seated facing the screen and I watch her chuckle. I turn to the screen and freeze. It's a pride parade. All of a sudden I hear Adia’s excited voice.

“Ooooh! Rainbows!” I look at her and smile a little bit. She doesn’t even know. Sometimes I wish I don’t know what LGBTQ+ means. But that’s not really true.

“Those rainbows are for gay people.” She says gay in disgust as if it’s the worst thing you can be. 

Mom continues, “You don’t want to be gay. Being gay is bad. You’ll go to hell if you’re gay.”

Now she just looked confused. “Why is it bad?”

“Because a man is supposed to marry a woman. That’s how God created us.” Mom says.

I finish eating my food as fast as I can to escape this horrible conversation and then interrupt. “Can I be excused? I’m getting tired.”

Before my mom can respond, my father swings open the front door.

This time, it’s not just me who’s frozen. He’s holding a beer bottle. His tie is loose. The top button of his shirt is unbuttoned and it’s stained.

What makes it most obvious that it’s happened again is his eyes. They’re huge. And not in the caring way.

He smiles goofily and stares at Adia and I. “No hug? No ‘Hi daddy!’ or ‘Thanks for working your ASS off every day to provide for us’?” 

My first instinct is to pull Adia closer to me and step one foot in front of her, which I follow through on. My second instinct is to throw something at him so we can all run.

I hold back. Mom’s too close to dad. She would never be able to run away in time. He could hit her. Hurt her. Even kill her, if he wanted to. She’s not a good person, but she doesn’t deserve that.

“Go. To your rooms. Now.” I turn to my mom in utter surprise.

“But mom-“

“Now.” Her voice is sharp and cold, but filled with fear. The most confusing part is that I know the fear isn’t for herself. It’s for us. 

I grab Adia and make sure she’s safe and locked in her room before running to mine. I press my ear against the door because I might be able to get an idea of what’s happening. I can’t hear anything. 

I slump down and hang my head in my hands. Holy mother of God. What is wrong with my family? Why doesn’t she just kick him out when he’s hungover? Why don’t we leave?

I can't deal with this.

I'm sobbing now. I clench my teeth to trap the noise in my mouth.

Over the course of a few minutes, I draw myself up onto my knees and stand up, walking over to sit down at my desk. I start to scribble words that seem right on a paper. After a minute of writing, I reread it. It's not good enough. I crumple up the piece of paper and throw it in the trash.

I hug my knees tightly, trying not to make any form of sound. My breathing slows to its normal pace as I continue to sit there and I grab another piece of paper. I start to write once again, this time neater.

In the morning, I wake up the same way as yesterday. I put on my pants and even throw on a t-shirt instead of a blouse. I don’t care if Mr. Simon tries to force me to wear a skirt. I’m not taking anyone’s crap on my last day of school.

As I look in the cracked medicine cabinet mirror, all I can think of is my hair. I chew on the inside of my cheek for a minute while I go over all my options. I finally tug open the drawer and grip my father’s razor in my hand. There are lots of those weird plastic protectors that I think make sure you don’t accidentally shave off all your hair. I choose the one labeled number 4 at random and push it onto the top of the razor.

My heart starts to beat faster as I push it gently against my scalp, running it down my head in different places until my entire head is buzz cut. For the first time, I feel alive.

I peek out of the crack in the door and watch my mom walk into the kitchen. I run to my room, grabbing my backpack and binder.

I do this again and again until I’m out of the door. 

I step into the bus, a huge grin slapped on my face. The other kids stare and I don’t even pay any attention to them. For the first time, I don’t care. I hear a kid yell “Get off, queer!” and I resist flipping him off… well, I try to resist flipping him off. 

Taking my time, I walk into the classroom and sit next to Logan. He stares at me, dumbfounded. “What the hell did you do?” he whispers.

“I buzz cut my hair. I don’t even care anymore. I’ll deal with the consequences,” 

Not. 

“I just needed to do it,” I finish.

His face is contorted into a mixture of dumbfoundedness and horror as he slowly shakes his head. “Yeah. Alright. Tell me if you need anything, I guess.” He can’t stop staring at me and I honestly find it kind of funny.

A kid walks up to me sitting at what is most likely his desk. 

“You’re sitting in my seat.”

“Yeah. I know. My seat’s over there. Feel free to take it.” He looks as if he’s about to say something more, but he turns to walk towards my actual seat. 

Logan looks at me. I wonder if he knows something off. That taking some other kid’s seat isn’t something I’d normally do. 

If he notices, he doesn’t mention it. “Anyways, how was your day yesterday?” He laughs and then adds, “Holy crap. That was such a mom question.”

I snort and answer, “Oh my god, you’re right. But it was good. I’m tired as hell, though.”

“No kidding.” I grin at him as the teacher looks at us again. I don’t really pay attention in math. I just talk to Logan. It’s relaxing to not have to care. To not have to worry about the consequences of my actions. 

When we walk to lunch, I start complaining to Logan about how much of the day we have left. 

“Uh, you know that we have an early day, right?”

“Oh! I do now.” He chuckles and smiles. I feel my cheeks warm up slightly at his smile. It’s a beautiful one. He starts to talk about some fandom of his and I try my hardest to pay attention. 

I don’t really know what triggers this, although I have an idea, but I realize something. I’ve never kissed someone. Okay, this needs to change. I feel weird thinking about it, but I know exactly who I want to be my first and last kiss.

He’s about to start another thought, but I interrupt him. I don’t care. “You’re amazing.”

He looks at me as if I said the strangest thing he’s ever heard. “I mean it. You’re always there for me and you talk to me about things we like. I feel I don’t thank you enough for that.”

He still looks confused and a bit weirded out but he just smiles calmly. “Right back at you,” he responds as he fidgets with his hands and looks down at his shoes. I gesture for him to continue and, without hesitation, he does. 

Logan sighs and packs up his lunch as the bell rings. 

“Hey, will you walk home with me? I know you normally hang out here for a while but I want to talk to you.” I know this is a risk. 

Just like before, he doesn’t say anything, but now I’m sure that we both know something’s wrong. “Yeah, of course.”

We grab our stuff and we start walking. He starts walking faster and gets ahead. This is not acceptable. 

I break into a full sprint and he starts to chase me. My breath is short and raspy as I laugh all the air out of my lungs with him. When we reach the bridge, we’re both out of breath. We start panting like dogs on a hot day as we bend over and try to distribute our body weight evenly.

I stand up straight again and look at him. His face is glowing and his brown eyes are big and happy. He runs his hand through his slicked-back (with both gel and sweat) hair and adjusts his glasses. What a dork. 

I know this is the moment. I move closer to him and press my lips against his own, my own brain not having a say in it. 

The salty air blows through my hair and I feel on top of the world. After a couple of seconds, I step away. He looks confused. He wasn't okay with it. Oh, God. What have I done? I'm about to keep running down the bridge when he hugs me.

This time, I'm the unprepared one. After a minute, he lets go and slides his hand into mine. We continue to walk across the bridge. There's nothing we need to say and it feels amazing. 

We don't have to explain ourselves. We can just walk quietly together. And it's not awkward.

My happiness fades away as I realize this is the first and last time I’ll be able to do this. I couldn’t change my mind if I wanted to. I already taped the note to his backpack when we left school. 

Today was the best day of my life, but the rest of my life will be a living hell if I go back home right now. Today was a good day. One in a million.

This has to be the last time. Nothing good can last forever. Nothing can last forever.

We reach the other side. “Goodbye, Logan.” 

He laughs. “You say it like this is the last time I’ll ever see you. I’m going to see you tomorrow.”

I feel my heart shatter a little bit more than it already had but I cover it up with a soft smile. “Yeah. It’s just goodbye for now.” He leans in and kisses my cheek and then twirls around like a ballerina. I choke back a sad laugh.

He starts to walk towards his house, but I just turn towards the water. 

Tears spill silently down my face. I put my hand over my mouth to muffle my sobs. I want to run to Logan and scream his name, but I can’t. This has to be done alone. 

I lift one foot onto the railing and then the other. This is it.

One last tear slips down my face as I whisper raspily, “I’m sorry, Logan.” I know it will be peaceful. A quiet ending. Not that I deserve one, but I guess it’s a favor to myself. I let go of the pole that I had been holding onto.

And then I’m falling. 

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Gone.

Tagging: @sunandshinee @writingamongthecoloredroses @ettawritesnstudies @rhycantspell @just-perhaps @etddivine @antisocialdragonenby  @crabsthinkfishfly @holdup-pause @gaydemiboy 

[docleech]

Monster World Dream

i told myself i wasn’t going to wake up at 4 AM if I didn’t have to anymore but I just had the weirdest fucking dream and I need to write it down somewhere before I forget because it was some Studio Ghibli shit and it was god damn terrifying. I don’t know if the single chocolate chip cookie I had before bed was enough to cause this or if my brain has just been under so much stress lately it finally just went “fuck you, suffer” but LORD. This has some storytelling tropes that @cohobbitation knows fucking terrifies me too.

so the premise of everything was that for some reason in the human world it was raining near constantly and there was so much water that the world, as a whole I shit you not, was becoming more and more flooded out and it was assumed no one knew as to why. Now I say “human world” because there was also a “monster world” that humans just used to make up scary monster stories to make children behave but they were mostly unaware that these things they would end up telling as stories would eventually manifest themselves into a new monster over time to populate said world.There were also stories of people that were half monster, half human that could walk between the worlds freely but as a human you’d never know because they were very good at making themselves look like everyone else to blend in. That’s what I was but I had run away from the monster world because it’s miserable and terrifying there and had been passing as a normal human for a long time because I didn’t want to be part of the issues the monster world caused for the humans. Also, notably, being a hybrid in the monster world was just as bad because you weren’t seen as a “true monster” and were often considered a sub-race, forced into slave labor or servitude of some pure bred monster, which is why many hybrids left to hide amongst the humans.

I was going to some odd school and it was the lunch period, so we were all sat up on the rooftop watching the waters as it slowly consumed everything. By now the humans had created some methods to try and fight or avoid the flood waters, like building high walkways made of extremely sturdy metal to get to and from places or water proof structures that were meant to eventually be able to be submerged because no one knew if this would ever stop and the humans were getting ready to have to deal with having an entirely water planet. However it was while we were up there, talking and eating, that we started to notice that the waters were receding. Sometimes this happened and the flood waters would disappear for maybe an hour while it continued to rain but after some time they would come back to exactly how they would be. Liquids did not like to follow the laws of physics in this dream world, nor did they like to always be in the same place.

Now, with waters like this both good and bad things were often kicked up and left behind when they’d go away. Little waterlogged treasures or, in my unfortunate case, bodies. There would always be the body of some poor soul that would be there waiting, and while many people used the time the water was gone to go down to ground level and scavenge I did not like to because I always ended up finding the nightmare fuel. Today I decided I would go down with my friends because maybe it wasn’t so bad but just as we were getting ready to go back inside and go out some of the school bullies cut me off from the door, taunting me by saying “don’t look now but I think you’ve found something” and pointing towards the water where there was, in fact, a really pale naked dead woman just floating on by before something drug her beneath the water again. They laughed and slammed the door in my face, locking it too, so I had to take the long way down.

By the time I got to the soggy wet ground the waters were just a trickle, there was no body, and my friends had already wandered off to do their own thing so I followed suit and started to look for stuff. As I wandered I started to notice these long black strands of hair were being pushed towards me from somewhere and started to clump around my feet, prompting me to try and find the source LIKE AN IDIOT and as I came up to this weird stairway like structure where it seemed to be getting the worst one of my teachers (who was wearing the face of someone from my old job, one of the really cool coaches I worked with) came up behind me and scared the shit out of me. He wanted to know why I was sneaking around like I was, being all careful and ready for the jumpscare that eventually came from someone else, and by the time I had looked over to tell him I was trying to find someone the hair leading me to that spot was gone and the stairs no longer had that edge-of-your-seat feeling of suspense to them. Not seeing anything he just shrugged and said “Well I found something cool, come follow me so I can show you” and we departed.

After following him some way to a thing that felt more like an abandoned parking structure than anything and we were going downstairs instead of upstairs and this was a concern because the waters would be back soon. Being the half hybrid thing I also started to get this feeling of “we shouldn’t be here” because I recognized we were coming up on one of those liminal spaces where the worlds overlapped each other and made it very easy for monsters of hybrids to appear. As we were going downwards I tried to explain to him that maybe it was a bad idea to be there but he didn’t listen and before I got really frustrated with him we happened to pass by the ONE car in the entire building (it was my IRL car? Somehow?) and these three guys standing around it. They weren’t trying to break in or anything they were legitimately just standing there trying to figure out how this car hadn’t been washed away in some of the initial flooding because it was covered in algae and barnacles and other things to indicate extended submersion and while I was asking them what they were doing Teacher Guy wandered off again.

That sense of dread was really growing so I went to follow him again down into these wide tunnels  but just as he was turning a corner I stopped because I realized we had fully passed into the monster world now, which had made me lose my all human appearance. I had weird bird features on my face but the most noticeable bit were my legs and feet, which were bird feet from the knee down that had three taloned toes on the front and one on the back ankle bit. The exact moment the worlds passed through one another forced me to reveal my true self and I knew we were both in a lot of trouble now.

I ran to try and catch up to where Teacher Guy had gone but as I came up on the corner he had turned I started to hear these noises of pain and wet, crunching sounds and the shadows that were cast up on the wall I could see showed me that the “Guardians” had gotten to him.

These Guardians have been some of the most terrifying things I have ever dreamed up, not because of how they looked but because of how they kill someone. Basically, they looked like oversized tall terracotta pots with lids that were very innocent looking at first but if you were a trespasser then suddenly they’d have these two mile long tongue-arms that would come out from just under the lid, wrap around a victim and squeeze all the blood and guts out of them like a sponge before shoving the mangled body into them to digest. Dream me was terrified of these things and I don’t blame dream me for that fear at all.

Just before I could turn around to go back the way I came before the Guardians found me too my watch alarm that I had set to let me know when to return to a safe place to avoid the waters went off, alerting the Guardians just around the corner that someone else was there. I bolted up a nearby emergency staircase as I heard the clanking of angry pots coming after me (they moved by cartoonishly bouncing after people, how that didn’t break them I don’t know) because thankfully they couldn’t go upstairs but their tongue-arms followed me up most of the staircase.

Eventually the Guardians couldn’t chase me anymore but I reached a part of the stairs that was going to have to force me to run by more to get to this pipe I wanted to crawl up that would lead to some upper walkways of the monster world area where I thought I would be safe. I couldn’t go back to the human world with the rains starting to pick up because whatever liminal space I popped out of was going to put me miles underwater and I wasn’t about to deal with that so I thought maybe I could wait it out somehow.

But I had to run by eight Guardians that I know would trigger the minute I got anywhere near them but they can’t climb up pipes so I thought that was my best bet. Steeling myself I eventually darted to the other side of that small room and lept onto the pipe bolted to the wall, starting to climb up it as fast as possible. All the Guardians were pissed off down below, angrily and loudly hopping up and down while their tongue-arms tried to catch up to me. I out climbed the appendages to the walkways I wanted to be on and started to run across them towards this massive open room I had never seen before but the Guardians followed me down below and what they had done was grab on to the walkways and were going “hand over hand” to keep up with and try to catch me so I had to constantly stay moving to avoid them.

This massive room was sort of like a super large work room that had these huge turning wheel generators in them that a lot of enslaved hybrids were working at. They were either in or on the wheels making them turn and the machines were pumping water up into these pipes that went to what I could only assume was the human world to cause massive, MASSIVE amounts of rain and water.

BASICALLY the monsters were flooding out the humans on purpose and I can only assume it was because they wanted to kill all of them so they could live in the human world instead. I discovered this and wanted to stop it so I ran all across the walkways, with the Guardians hot at my heels and causing a scene down below which was drawing attention to myself, until I was able to get onto one of the generator wheels and try to mess it up somehow. But this was the point in the dream where the Guardians had managed to catch up to me and yank me off of the wheel towards the ground below and I woke the fuck up because I did not want to see what happened after that.

This was the singularly weirdest dream I can vividly recall in recent months. Even right now as I sit here typing this out I can hear the sounds the generator wheels made in my head and the “roo-uwah, roo-uwah” noises the Guardians made whenever their tops would open when they bounced. I don’t know if it means anything and I hardly doubt it past being just a weird ass dream but... Good lord it was a fucking trip.

[leigh-kelly]

It's Deeper, Dear, By Far, Than Any Ocean

[faveficarchive]

Stay Near, Keep Close: Part 4

By Ms. Auggie

Pairing: Mel/Janice, Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: Something terrible happens on a dig in Turkey that has Mel and Janice running for their lives. Through separation, war, and death, they manage to find each other.

CHAPTER 31

Mel felt as if she was in a coffin. The compartment was wide enough for her to lay on her side with her knees and head slightly bent. There was barely an inch of space between her head and the bottom of the back seat. Fresh, cold air came whooshing through underneath where she lay. Bertinelli had put a blanket underneath Mel, but it didn't do much to stop the air from chilling her.

She was freezing cold but she was also sweating. The exertion of stopping the claustrophobic panic attacks left her sopping wet, as perspiration beaded all over her body.

She took deep breaths and tried to think of her time in the water, where she floated in warm, wide open space, but it wasn't working.

She guessed she had been in the moving tomb for perhaps 30 minutes, but it was hard to tell since a minute felt like an hour to her.

She remembered laying Janice on the front seat and stroking her honey hair behind her ears. The smaller woman's breathing was shallow and Mel questioned Bertinelli, making sure Janice wasn't in danger of slipping into a coma. He once again assured her, but she still worried, unable to trust the man that had turned her soulmate into a vulnerable Sleeping Beauty.

Mel kissed Janice's forehead and moved to the back seat of the truck. Bertinelli lifted open the long metal panel underneath and in front of the seat. Mel lay on the floor of the truck.

"I'll stop as soon as I think it's safe, but we have to get out of Berlin. If it becomes too much than pound on the bottom of the seat. I'll hear you."

"Right." Mel took a large gulp of air and tried to smile, but she didn't pull it off. She rolled into the space and Bertinelli shut the panel tight.

Now, soaked in sweat, Mel prayed for Bertinelli to stop. A few minutes passed and she felt the vehicle slow down and roll to a stop. Mel knew they had been pulled over. She heard voices and could make out Bertinelli's deep tones and another voice, coming from outside. There was a pause, and Mel assumed the soldier was looking over Bertinelli's identification papers. The pause stretched on and Mel grew increasingly nervous and uncomfortable. She heard the passenger side door open.

‘Janice!’ her brain screamed. The soldier must be examining Janice. Mel fought off another panic attack. She wanted to scream and had to stick her fist into her open mouth to stop the sound. Finally, the door closed and Bertinelli started the truck rolling. Mel removed her fist and took deep gulps of air. She was not going to survive this for much longer.

There was one more stop a little farther along the way and then Mel felt the truck pick up speed. She could stand it no longer and started to pound the bottom of the seat.

"Get me out of here! Bertinelli! Please!"

Mel felt the truck slow down. She heard the crunching sound of tires rolling over gravel and dirt and then the truck made a sharp right turn. It slide to a stop. Mel heard the driver's side door open and then the back seat door open. She felt the gush of air as the panel fell forward and she rolled out.

"God Melinda." Bertinelli saw Mel's overalls were soaked to the skin, her hair was plastered to her face and she was shaking. He helped pull her out of the truck. As soon as her feet hit solid ground she pushed Bertinelli away and spread her arms and took deep gulps of air. Bertinelli moved away from her. He knew she needed space.

"Oh my lord! Oh my lord!" Mel repeated over and over again. She started to walk around and saw they had stopped near the edge of a forest, the city well behind them. She walked in a circle around Bertinelli.

"I can't go in there again Bertinelli, I just can't!"

He could see she was completely distraught, her pupils were dilated and she still shook. She would not survive another moment in the small space.

"All right Melinda, just relax. I won't make you go back in there. We'll just have to risk you laying on the floor. Can you do that?"

She nodded her head very quickly.

"Fine, now let's get back in the truck. He pulled out the blanket and wrapped it around her.

"You're freezing. Hold on. He took off his sweater.

"Here, I want you to strip off the top part of the overalls and put this on."

Mel’s breathing had returned to normal and her eyes focused clearly.

"Good idea," she said as she felt the cool fall air chill her wet clothing. He walked around the truck to check on Janice while Mel changed. She tied the arms of her overalls in a knot around her waist and slipped on Bertinelli’s warm sweater.

Mel felt her control return. She had lost it in that space. She always knew

small spaces made her a little nervous, but she had never been trapped like

that before. Now that her head had cleared she joined Bertinelli beside Janice.

"How’s she doing?" Mel asked.

"Fine, although her breathing is just a little shallow. But don’t worry Melinda."

"Please, call me Mel."

"All right, if you call me Enzo."

"Enzo. I like that name. I’ve never known an Enzo."

He smiled for the first time since she had known him. "Yeah, well…we have to get going Mel. We’re not that far outside Berlin. We’ve still got hours on the road."

He walked around the truck. Mel took the opportunity to bring her cheek against Janice’s. She brought her hand up and stroked the woman’s other cheek. She whispered in her ear. "Please wake up soon. I’m scared Janice. I need you here with me. I love you."

She turned her head and kissed her softly on the cheek and caressed her face. Janice looked so peaceful. Mel couldn’t remember Janice ever looking so restful, and she had spent more than a few nights staring at the woman across their tent in Turkey. She slowly moved away from Janice and got in the back of the truck and lay on the floor with the blanket covering her.

The trip went on for hours. Mel was scared for the first few hours, anytime the truck slowed down even a bit she thought they were being pulled over. But nothing happened. The exertion of the last 24 hours caught up with her and she fell into a deep sleep. She thought it would have been impossible, but she slept, and would have kept sleeping if the truck hadn’t come to an abrupt, grinding halt.

Mel rolled and smacked against the back of the front seat. She heard a loud German voice come from outside the truck. It sounded angry. She heard Bertinelli roll down the window and hand over his papers. After a few seconds, she heard the Nazi yell and Bertinelli got out of the truck.

Mel’s mind raced. She suspected Bertinelli’s cover story wasn’t holding. Both voices became louder, and closer. Mel heard the back seat door open. She was under the blanket, her muscles frozen. If this was her time to die, she only wished she could look upon Janice’s face one more time. Her love would never forgive herself for sleeping while she was killed. Poor Janice!

She felt somebody close by and suddenly the blanket was ripped from her body and a young blonde man holding a rifle by her head jumped back, surprised at actually seeing a person on the floor. Before he could raise his rifle once again a knife came up to his throat and sliced across his skin. Blood gushed out and sprayed Mel. She covered her face from the foaming, hot liquid.

The young soldier’s body wavered and two strong hands moved him away from Mel. Mel got up and out of the truck. She saw Bertinelli place the young man’s body on the ground. Mel was speechless and looked over to where Janice continued to sleep peacefully.

"Are you all right Mel?" asked Bertinelli.

"Umm, I’m..I’m…fine." She wiped some of the blood off her face.

Bertinelli nodded.

"He’s alone, but there must be others around. Help me put him under the seat."

Mel picked the boy’s feet and dragged him into the truck. They stuffed him into the small space. Mel got even more blood over her. Bertinelli ran to the front of the truck and started the truck. Mel lay back down on the floor of the truck, but could no longer sleep knowing a young man’s bloodied body lay so close to hers.

They traveled two more hours and Bertinelli finally pulled off the back road. It was early morning and he hid the truck behind a group of thick spruce trees. Mel got up and stretched. She went into the woods to relieve herself. Afterwards she simply sat in the beautiful forest and stared out into space. The simplistic saying "War Is Hell," kept running through her head.

Janice moved her sore neck and licked her dry lips. She looked around. The truck was parked in the woods, but Bertinelli wasn’t in the truck, neither was Mel. She got out and immediately fell. He legs were wobbly after having remained motionless for so long. She stretched a bit and went to the back seat.

"Mel?" she called quietly. "Mel, you can’t still be in there." Janice leaned into the truck and opened the panel and a bloodied body rolled out. For a moment she thought it was Mel’s and screamed.

Bertinelli ran back from the woods and Mel’s head snapped up. "Janice!"

Janice fell backwards but then jumped right back up and saw the body wasn’t Mel’s but rather belonged to a very young Nazi soldier.

"Jesus, what the hell happened!" she muttered to herself. She turned and yelled. "Mel?"

"Shut up Janice," cried Bertinelli as he ran up beside her.

"Where’s Mel? Why is there a dead Nazi in our truck?"

Mel came galloping through the woods. Janice saw Mel wore Bertinelli’s sweater and it was covered with blood. So was her face.

"Oh my God!" she cried. "Mel, wha..."

Mel reached Janice and drew her up in a hug. "It’s all right Janice. It’s

not my blood, it’s not my blood." She grabbed hold of Janice’s hands as they moved across her face looking for injuries. "It’s not my blood," she whispered. Janice’s hands stopped moving. She wrapped her hands around Mel’s back and brought her into a tight embrace.

"I’m glad you’re up Janice. It’s been quite a trip."

Janice pressed Mel even closer to her. "I bet."

CHAPTER 32

The truck parked behind a farmhouse 15 miles southwest of the town of Ravensburg. It was late afternoon and the brilliant autumn sun shone down on the snow-peaked mountains in the distance and the air was crisp and clean.

The trio had no more problems on their trip, although Bertinelli knew the dead soldier in the back would be missed by his troop. Luckily he had been on patrol alone and no one else saw them come or go. If things went their way the troop would lose their tracks in Ansbach, where Bertinelli had taken a roundabout detour.

The threesome got out and stretched. Both Mel and Janice were struck by the beauty of the setting. A chalet home and a large barn stood in relief of the green, hilly fields that were home to a small herd of diary cows.

Bertinelli hadn’t told the women anything about where they were headed, but they both saw the look of relief on his face as he walked up to the back door. Before he reached the back porch, a large, gray-haired man and his portly wife opened the door and welcomed him in German.

Mel and Janice were exhausted and they simply hung back and watched the exchange. The round-face woman signaled Mel and Janice to come in.

The women entered a wonderfully warm, rustic home. Heavy oak furniture, bear skins and heavy wool rugs filled out the two main rooms. The smell of a wood-burning stove mixed with the scent of roasting meat. Janice realized she was absolutely starving.

The couple stared at the two women, especially Mel and her blood splattered face and sweater. She had managed to wipe most of the gore off her, but there were noticeable specks around her temples and neck.

They motioned for the women to sit. They slid onto large wood chairs situated around the butcher’s block kitchen table. Mel looked up and saw the second floor of the house was designed in a loft style, with rooms that looked down on the main room.

Bertinelli sat and finally looked at the women.

"Mel and Janice this is Karl and Lisel. They are old friends, their son Hans went to school with me at Dartmouth. He was killed early on in the war." Bertinelli blanched slightly. "He was my best friend, he was the best man at my wedding and was my daughter’s godfather."

Janice was shocked. Bertinelli had masked his personal life from her and Mel and now, suddenly, he opened up.

"I’m sorry Enzo," said Mel. Janice looked puzzled and a little pleased. Leave it to Mel to get Bertinelli to tell her his first name.

"They are good people. They don’t believe in the war, or Hitler. They’re willing to keep us here for the night. Tomorrow we hike to the border. Now, sit and relax, I have to get some things from the truck.

Lisel brought cups of hot cider to the women.

"Danken," said Janice. Lisel looked at Janice’s clothes. She still wore Marie’s skirt and blouse. She nodded her head no.

"Yeah, they aren’t very practical are they," said Janice.

Lisel pulled Janice by the hand and Janice had no choice but to follow her up the stairs and into a small bedroom. It looked like a boy’s room and Janice guessed it was Hans’ old room. Lisel pulled out a trunk from under the bed and took out some clothes. She found a pair of long johns, wool hiking pants, a shirt, sweater and boots for Janice. They looked as if they were Hans’ teenage clothes.

Janice nodded and smiled and caught the red-faced Lisel looking longingly at the clothes, which she laid out on the single bed. She left Janice to change.

When Janice returned she saw Mel sitting at the table holding a pistol and Bertinelli explaining something to her over her shoulder. Janice’s blood froze. Mel was preparing for tomorrow’s fight, learning to hold and fire a gun. She never imagined her gentle Mel ever having to pick up a weapon, let alone a gun.

Mel looked up to see Janice back to her old self. There was no hat or leather jacket, but the rugged, practical clothing Janice wore warmed Mel’s bruised heart.

"I’m just giving Mel a crash course in Lugers. She’ll need to know some things," said Bertinelli quietly.

"I know," said Janice. She sat down beside the pair and listened to Bertinelli’s instruction. Mel practiced holding and pulling the trigger of the unloaded weapon, with Janice giving some advice. She hoped the strain in her voice didn’t come through.

Karl went out to do the nightly milking and Mel put the gun down, deciding

she’d had enough. She got up and went towards Lisel, picking up an apron

that hung from a hook near the stove. She put on the apron and held out her hands to Lisel. She wanted to help Lisel prepare dinner.

Bertinelli got up and quietly the three of them started talking, Bertinelli acting as a translator. Janice knew Mel was a good cook, she had told Janice she had done much of the cooking for herself and her father despite the fact they had servants.

Mel hadn’t had the chance to do much cooking since meeting up with Janice,

but Janice did remember one hell of a good stew she conjured up while helping the ailing cook in Robbins’ camp.

Janice watched Mel shyly smile and share tidbits about pot roast and the best way to cook turnips with Lisel, who warmly studied the tall woman who was handy with a paring knife and a cutting board.

Janice took a deep swallow of her cider, crossed her legs and rubbed her eyes. For a moment she imagined what it would be like to have a home with Mel, with good friends and relaxed moments of camaraderie. These were utterly new thoughts to Janice, who had never imagined she would partake of life’s simplest pleasures.

She watched Mel gracefully move around the kitchen and although there wasn’t exactly a sense of joy in the chalet, Janice felt a muted warmth, as they all knew this moment of normalcy may be one of their last memories.

Mel glanced up at Janice and smiled one of her lopsided smiles meant only for Janice. A shiver moved down Janice’s spin and she smiled back.

After a wonderfully hearty dinner in which Lisel and Mel were abundantly praised, there came an awkward silence. The group’s reprieve was almost over. Bertinelli looked down at the cup of coffee he held in his hands and cleared his throat.

"We should get some sleep, we’re getting up at dawn and hiking five miles to the border."

Mel and Janice nodded.

"Lisel has laid out a pallet for you in the loft of the barn. There’s a lamp by the door and blankets in the loft. It’ll be chilly tonight but you should be warm enough." Bertinelli stared down at his coffee cup.

"Thank you Enzo," Mel reached over and held her hands over his. "We’ll meet you back here at dawn."

CHAPTER 33

Janice and Mel moved up the ladder to the loft. A large, thick straw pallet had been covered with a cotton quilt. The pallet was placed against a stack of hay bales that formed a headboard. Cracks in the angled roof over top the pallet let in streams of silver moonlight.

Janice put the kerosene lamp on the planked floor a safe distance from the pallet. She went and sat on the edge of the pallet and moved the set of blankets onto the floor and removed her boots.

"It’s comfortable." She looked at Mel who sat on the floor near the ladder with her back against an oak pillar. She had her arms wrapped around her knees. She had already removed her large boots.

"Good," her voice was steady and her gaze direct.

Janice was afraid. She was alone with Mel on their last night before their final escape. She longed to touch Mel, make love to her, but would Mel enjoy it and would she understand this would be like the first time for her as well? She looked away from Mel.

"Janice?" Mel’s voice was like a soft caress.

She looked back at Mel.

"Janice, I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, but I do know that we may not make it." Janice began to interrupt. "No, listen to me Janice. Whatever happens you know that I love you and I don’t want to die without having been with you. Do you understand? It’ll be the one regret in my life, a life that only began to mean something after I met you." Mel got to her feet and walked towards the pallet.

She knelt in front of Janice. "I know you wanted to make this special, but all the flowers or music wouldn’t mean anything to me. It’s you that I want." She brought her hand up and stroked Janice’s cheek. Janice took hold of her hand.

"I know. But I wanted it to be special for me too. This will be my first time with the woman I truly love. I guess I was being selfish." Mel swallowed. She hadn’t expected that answer.

"Oh."

Janice pulled Mel beside her. "What, you thought I took this lightly?" She pushed a stray lock of dark hair behind Mel’s ear and held her hand behind her neck.

"No, of course not." Mel’s heart fluttered at Janice’s touch.

"I want you so much Mel," she brought her lips close to Mel’s. "I also don’t want to leave this world without having held you, touched you," her lips grazed Mel’s in a gentle kiss. Mel responded and what started gently grew hotter. Mel wrapped her arms around Janice’s smaller body and Janice took her other hand and undid Mel’s hair, which cascaded down Mel’s back like a black waterfall.

Janice released their lips and looked into Mel’s eyes. "You are so beautiful. I’d never do anything to hurt you. You know that don’t you?"

"Yes Janice, now please be quiet." Mel pulled Janice down on top of her,

bringing her lips to Janice’s neck and moving across her jaw until she finally found her mouth. Janice responded with a deep, long kiss that had Mel moaning into Janice’s mouth.

The soul-searing kiss continued until Janice pulled up. She was straddling Mel. She pulled her sweater and shirt over her head, tossing them aside leaving the buttons of her long johns closed.

Mel raised herself to face Janice. She took off Bertnelli’s sweater and tossed it aside, her chest rising up and down inside her white bra. She brought Janice’s hands to her breasts.

Janice rubbed her palms against the covered nipples watching them harden to her touch. "I know men have hurt you Mel, and if I do anything…"

"Sssh, Janice," Mel whispered. Her breathing had become shallow and she reached behind her back and undid the clasp, pulling the garment from her body and tossing it over to join the growing pile of clothing. Janice looked upon two large oval breasts. Her aureoles and nipples were smaller than Janice had imagined but her fantasy breasts paled in comparison to the real ones in front of her.

"God, you have lovely breasts." She brought her mouth to Mel’s left one and her tongue softly licked the pebblelike nipple. Her teeth grazed and gently pulled. Mel’s mouth opened in a silent scream and her hands pushed down on Janice’s head. Janice smiled at Mel’s enthusiasm and brought her left hand up to squeeze Mel’s other nipple.

Janice nudged Mel back on the pallet and increased the pressure of her loving. Mel’s moans and gasps moved through the air above Janice’s head. Everything Matilda and Karen told her about being loved by another woman was true, but she never imagined it would feel so good. Her groin ached and she felt a wetness between her legs.

Janice marveled at Mel’s responsiveness. God she loved this woman. Janice felt her need grow stronger. She moved her kisses down Mel’s soft stomach. Her hands grabbed the bottom portion of Mel’s overalls and tugged at them. Mel lifted her hips and allowed Janice to remove and toss the garments over her shoulder.

Janice moved back over Mel. She looked into those blue, blue eyes.

"I love you so much," whispered Janice. She brought her lips down and kissed Mel again and again. Mel’s hands tangled in Janice’s locks while Janice’s right hand moved between their bodies and slipped inside Mel’s underwear. Her fingers barely touched her wet opening and Mel’s hips arched into the air.

Janice kissed her way down Mel’s long body, stopping once again at the two perfect ovals. She licked and tugged even harder on Mel’s nipples and Mel let out a series of little screams.

She continued her path down and when she got to Mel’s hips she slipped Mel’s soaking underwear off the woman’s shapely legs. Mel automatically opened her legs wider and bent her knees, allowing Janice easier access.

Janice looked up and saw Mel had shut her eyes and thrown her head back. Janice memorized the sight of Mel, her lover, giving herself to her without fear or hesitation. Janice’s fingers gently eased apart Mel’s folds and her tongue passed over her swollen nub. Mel’s body arched higher and her moans grew louder and more urgent.

Mel’s world had narrowed to a few inches down below where Janice’s tongue and fingers loved her. Mel’s aching grew stronger and she felt her muscles constrict in a heavenly pull.

Janice knew Mel was close and she gently pushed two finger inside Mel and felt the thin skin representing Mel’s innocence dissolve under her love. She moved in and out of Mel until her silken walls tightened and then her hips reached skywards. She let out a high pitched squeal.

Mel had never known such pleasure. Her breath caught in her lungs as her nerve endings exploded and for a moment she was outside herself. The aftershocks continued and Janice moved up beside her lover and wrapped her arms around her flushed, nude body.

Mel’s emotions caught up with her and she sobbed quietly into Janice’s shoulder.

"Shh love, shh. I’ve got you, I’ve got you." Janice stroked Mel’s hair and kissed the top of her head. "It’s okay, cry as much as you want. I love you so much."

Mel was embarrassed by her reaction, but she couldn’t control herself. Janice had loved her and it was the most incredible moment of her life. She calmed down and began to hear Janice’s words.

"I’m sorry Janice, I never knew it would be so powerful."

Janice laughed very softly into Mel’s ear. "Ain’t love grand."

Mel propped herself up on an elbow and looked down at Janice.

"Are you making fun of me Janice?" Both her mouth and eyes were swollen from crying and Janice smiled up at the love of her life.

"No sweetheart, I’m not laughing at you. You are too beautiful to laugh at. I’m just so in love with you and I’m thrilled that you let me show you what

I feel. Thank you." Janice brought her hand up to Mel’s cheek.

"You’re thanking me! I don’t believe it." Mel’s breathing had almost returned to normal and her heart was bursting with love for the blonde woman who lay beside her. Her eyes grew a shade darker and Janice smiled at Mel’s lustful look.

Mel brought her lips to Janice’s and tasted herself on Janice. She pulled back and a surprised expression crossed her face.

"That’s you. You taste wonderful."

Mel rolled on top of Janice and her lips assaulted Janice’s. Her tongue moved inside the smaller woman’s mouth and Mel heard Janice’s groans move through her head.

Mel straddled Janice and struggled to undo Janice’s pants.

"Here, let me help." Janice undid the buttons that made up the long fly of the boy’s pants. Mel was impatient, but Janice batted away Mel’s hand. "Pull if you want to help," she laughed.

Mel moved to Janice’s ankles and pulled off the pants and whipped them against the wall. Janice was left in the old long johns and Mel looked down at her. She moved her long hands up Janice’s legs, rubbing her thighs and then up and over her stomach. She stopped at Janice’s breasts and Janice was already breathing hard.

Mel once again straddled Janice and she slowly undid the buttons of Janice’s underwear. She looked into Janice’s eyes, which were full of love and desire. Janice raised up to allow Mel to pull down the top of her underwear.

Mel saw Janice’s breasts and she sighed. They were larger than she imagined and her plump, round nipples were already hard. Mel slowly brought her hands up to them.

"Please Mel, touch me. Please." Janice’s voice was hoarse with desire. She longed for Mel’s touch. She had dreamed of this moment for so long.

"Yes." She caressed and rubbed them. She rolled each nipple between her fingers and Mel saw how her touch affected Janice, who moaned loudly. She hesitated for a brief moment and then brought her lips down to kiss the nipples. So this was what it was like to love a woman. She sucked and let her teeth nip at them.

"Oh God," cried Janice. Mel realized Janice was much more verbal and louder than she was. She loved hearing Janice’s sounds and words of passion. She felt Janice’s hips wriggle underneath her. She pressed down against Janice and Janice moaned again and pushed up against Mel. Mel ground into Janice once more and felt her own passion rise, but she controlled her inexperienced desire as she needed to pleasure Janice.

She moved down Janice and pulled down her long johns. She looked upon Janice’s nude body for the first time. Janice was so muscular and her strength of spirit was reflected in a body that showed long years of outdoor work.

"Oh my God, you’re magnificent," she gasped.

Janice lifted her head and looked at Mel’s wide eyes. No one had looked at her like that before and she felt the wetness between her legs increase. Mel could smell Janice’s desire and she looked at Janice’s mound.

"Please Mel, please touch me." Janice lifted her legs and placed them over Mel’s shoulders.

Mel remembered everything Janice had done to her and she rubbed her hand over Janice's sopping wet mound. Mel moaned quietly to herself and she brought her finger up and into Janice. She found the nub at the top of the slick opening and she caressed and rubbed it.

"Harder Mel," croaked Janice, whose hips moved up and down. Mel fought to stay in contact with Janice and succeeded in increasing the pressure against Janice. She then brought her mouth close and quickly removed her fingers and replaced them with her lips. Her tongue speeded along the swollen nub and pressed harder and she savored this most intimate taste. Her own groin ached and tightened.

Janice was beside herself and when she felt Mel’s long finger move up inside her she knew it would be over any second now. She looked up at Mel once more, and seeing the dark-haired beauty making love to her with such fervor sent Janice spiraling over the top. She screamed Mel’s name and came in a shattering climax.

Mel held onto the acrobatic Janice and she felt herself climax once again in a smaller jolt. She fell beside Janice trying to catch her breath while Janice held her arms over her eyes, gulping for air. After a moment Mel rolled beside Janice and brought her arms around Janice and pulled her close.

Janice laid her forehead against Mel’s.

"God Mel. That was…"

"All right?" asked an insecure Mel.

"More than all right! It was beautiful." She brought her lips to Mel’s and gently kissed her, tasting herself on Mel’s swollen lips. "Thank you."

Mel stared at Janice’s flushed face. "I love you Janice Covington." She had tears in her eyes.

"Don’t cry Mel, please don’t cry. Everything will be all right. We’ll survive to do this again tomorrow night. I promise."

Mel nodded her head and snuggled closer to Janice. "You promise?"

"I do."

CHAPTER 34

Mel stared up into the roof, focusing on the fading rays of moonlight that shone through the thin slits. Janice lay slightly on top of her, the smaller woman’s hand resting on her right breast, her knee tucked against her inner thigh.

Mel hadn’t slept much, no one told her how odd it was to sleep with someone after you spent your entire life sleeping alone. Others seemed to think nothing of this, but Mel was truly amazed. Aside from the obvious distraction of having Janice move over her as she shifted restlessly in her sleep, Mel was overwhelmed by the concept that she would never be alone again, even in her sleep.

She had gently picked up Janice’s small hand throughout the night and held it, studying the deep lines and short, strong fingers. ‘This hand loves me, protects me and I won’t let anything happen to it.’ She laid it back on her breast and sighed deeply.

In a few hours they would be making their way into Switzerland and Mel shivered slightly. ‘I won’t die today, neither will she, our life is just beginning.’ She sighed again.

"Mel, why are you sighing?" Janice’s voice was thick with sleep.

"I’m sorry, did I wake you?"

"No, I’ve been listening to you sigh for awhile." Janice moved her hands beside Mel’s head and raised herself off Mel. She looked into her lover’s face.

"So, this is what it feels to wake up with you. I like it." Her smile faded as she studied Mel’s serious expression. Mel brought her right hand up and stroked Janice’s face. Her fingers slowly traced Janice’s lips, down her throat past her collarbone and around her hardening left nipple. Janice’s eyes blinked rapidly and she let out a soft, sweet moan.

Mel didn’t speak. A night spent contemplating her future and feeling Janice move over top of her had left Mel tense, determined and aroused. She moved her fingers over Janice’s rippled stomach, down through her soft hair and against her damp opening.

Janice let out a breathy gasp. She looked upon Mel’s expression of arousal, but she also caught the fear in Mel’s eyes. Janice knew this moment of love came out of Mel’s fear about what was going to happen today. Janice felt the same way, but had been hiding it from Mel. But no longer.

Janice rested all her weight on her right forearm and quickly brought her left hand down and against Mel’s wet mound. Mel’s eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. She automatically opened her legs wider to allow Janice easier access.

Janice stroked her cleft and then quickly pushed two fingers in and found her nub. Mel did the same. The women looked into each other’s eyes. At first Mel thought she had been wrong to do this, but she saw Janice understood. This was about feeling alive, for one last time, for maybe the final time.

The women stroked one another, their hips moving up and down. Janice brought her lips to Mel’s right shoulder and sucked her salty skin. Mel groaned and wrapped her free arm around Janice, pulling her closer. Her lips latched onto Janice’s shoulder. The women stroked faster, harder and they moaned in unison, unable to tell who was making what sounds. They felt their bodies constrict, and almost at the same moment they released, both biting down into each other’s bodies.

The pleasure and pain melded together at both spots, down below and above, and both women shook for a few seconds. Janice could no longer hold herself up and fell against Mel, who loved the feeling of Janice sprawled over top of her. Janice’s ragged, hot breath tickled Mel’s ear, and Mel rubbed her cheek against the side of Janice’s face.

"Oh my Lord." Mel’s voice was thick and raspy.

"I don’t think he had anything to do with this Mel," said a panting Janice.

Mel laughed. It was a deep laugh, a laugh that released so much emotion. Janice peeled herself off Mel and looked at Mel, joining in her laughter.

"What did we just do?" asked a now smiling Mel.

"We loved each other Mel…we’re both afraid about what might happen today, and we just reacted against that fear, but believe me when I tell you I won’t let anyone stop us from getting home."

"Home," said Mel quietly, "where exactly is our home?"

"Wherever you are," said Janice and then she kissed Mel softly. "We can figure out the logistics later, how about when we’re safe in Switzerland. All right?"

"All right. Oh, by the way, good morning," Mel drew Janice in for a deep, long kiss.

Janice beamed after pulling away for some much needed air. "Now that’s a good morning kiss. We should get up and washed, I think it’s almost dawn." She looked at Mel’s shoulder where there was large, red bite mark. She traced it with a finger. "Did I hurt you?" she asked with tender concern.

"No." Mel touched the smaller mark she had left on Janice’s shoulder "Did I hurt you?"

"Your touch could never hurt me. I love everything you do to me."

"Remember your promise Janice, we do this again tonight."

"We will."

Mel and Janice sat down at the square table just as the first rays of light hit the kitchen window and soaked the room in a orange/pink glow. Lisel had made fresh bread and eggs, and Enzo, Karl and the women dug in. There wasn’t much talk, and when they had finished eating Karl got up and returned with a bundle of clothes and handed them to Mel.

"Mel, Karl is giving you some of his old clothes for the trip, those overalls are too thin and flimsy," said Enzo.

"Danken Karl." Mel smiled shyly and took the bundle. Lisel showed her to the bedroom so she could change. Mel put on the loose-fitting long johns, wool pants, shirt and sweater. She had some problem with the fly and the suspenders. Mel smiled thinking she had become the larger, darker version of Janice. When she came back into the kitchen Enzo was taking out a map and spreading it over the table. Mel came to stand behind Janice, leaning over her shoulder. Janice loved Mel’s familiar presence behind her, it made her feel both brave and protected all at the same time.

"Here we are," said Enzo pointing to a spot on his map of southern Germany. "Here’s where we’re heading." He pointed to a mountain range and a low pass that cut between two peaks and led into Switzerland.

"Karl and Lisel’s farm is the last one on this ridge backing the mountains, and since the war began this area is relatively quiet. The young men have all left their farms to fight and there’s mostly old people who don’t stray very far from their homes.

"We walk two miles to the bottom of the pass and then three miles straight up rocky terrain until the border. There are guards stationed at the border marker since this is one of the few accessible paths into Switzerland in this area. It’s a tough hike, and we’ll have to do some doubling back and around to keep our presence a secret."

"I don’t understand why were trying to do this in daylight Enzo," quipped Janice. Enzo smiled slightly at hearing Janice use his first name for the first time. He liked the confident way she sounded it out.

"We’re doing this in daylight because the path is too dangerous to use at night and because the guards are fresh recruits and won’t be expecting a daylight rush."

"How far until we reach help on the other side," asked Mel.

"That’s the good news, we should have someone waiting for us at the bottom of the pass on the Swiss side. That’s also why we have to do this today. Are we ready?"

The women nodded and Enzo brought out three small backpacks.

"We’ve got food, water, ammunition, medical supplies and a radio." Mel flinched at the mention of the medical supplies.

He turned to Karl and Lisel, spoke in German and then gave them both a bearhug. He was emotionally moved as he stepped outside.

Janice and Mel both stepped up and gave them each a light hug, but as Mel came up to Lisel, the round-faced woman brought her hands up and stroked Mel’s face. She kissed Mel on the forehead and Mel suddenly felt like a small child being comforted by her loving grandmother. She felt at peace.

"Danken Lisel."

They joined Enzo outside and began the hike into the mountains.

CHAPTER 35

The trio walked silently. Enzo led the way followed by Mel and then Janice. All three had guns tucked into their belts, and Janice kept her eyes on Mel’s hips, making sure Mel wasn’t going to accidentally set off the pistol. It was a crazy thought but she was nervous.

They made good time. Mel soaked in the beauty of the countryside. Rugged snowcapped mountains loomed high around them as they made their way down the narrow grassy path. They moved down through meadows and then across a mountain stream and then around a buttress of rock. The countryside was open but they were the only people about.

Janice’s eyes left Mel only for an occasional look around. She felt safe, but you never knew when a soldier could pop up behind a boulder or tree. Enzo and Mel’s longer stride meant Janice had to work twice as hard to keep up, but she was in good shape and relished the exercise after yesterday’s long ride in the truck.

Around 10 am the trio stopped by a stand of birch trees. Enzo opened his bag and took out a canteen and offered it to the women. They drank deeply, and Mel excused herself to go into the woods.

Enzo went into his bag and brought out two long knives.

"Here." He handed them over to Janice. "I didn’t want to give these to you in front of Mel."

Janice stared at the weapons. She remembered the knife instruction she received back in Malta and a shiver moved down her spine. She reluctantly took the knives.

"Thank you, I appreciate you not doing this in front of Mel."

"Put them in your boots. There should be two sheaths."

Janice found the sheaths and tucked the knives in and pulled her pants over

her boots.

"I hope you won’t have to use them Janice, but there may be some hand-to-hand combat and you should be ready."

Janice looked into the woods. "Enzo, I need you to promise something."

"What?"

She turned to him. "You watch Mel’s back. You’re the soldier here not me, and she’ll have a better chance if you’re looking out for her. If something should happen to me, then you get her the hell out of here alive. Will you do that for me?"

"All right, but I plan to get all three of us home Janice."

Mel stepped out of the woods and could see Janice and Enzo were having an intense conversation. She’d bet her last nickel they were talking about her. She could feel Janice watching her the entire trip down the mountain and she knew Janice was terrified for her safety, but there was nothing she could do to relieve Janice’s fears.

They ate a few morsels of cheese and got back on the trail. About an hour later they were at the bottom of the pass. They looked up at the rocky, twisting trail. Three miles up.

"I’ll go ahead. I’ve walked this trail before and I know the twists and turns. Keep your eyes on the trail but remember to look up and see where I’m going. You’ll find we’ll get into a rhythm."

He led the way and Mel and Janice followed. It was a steep, difficult climb but the women kept up. Janice could hear Mel’s breathing get louder about a hour into the trek. She herself was feeling winded and she slipped a few times on loose rocks when she was watching Mel instead of her feet. Mel would snap her head back and tell Janice to be careful.

Enzo began to go off the trail and come back, staying out of open sight. Mel felt the burning in her thighs as they continued to zig zag along and off the narrow path. She felt a touch light-headed gulping the clean, thin air. Janice also felt the burning in her shorter legs, but she used her hands and arms more then Mel to pull around rocks and it eased some of the strain.

After another hour Enzo stopped and rested the group in a small cave off to the side of the trail.

"We’re making good time. You guys are in pretty good shape."

Mel laughed. "Are you trying to sweet talk us?"

"Yeah, butter us up?" added Janice.

"You’re too smart for me," smiled Enzo. He let the smile slip away. "We’re getting close to the border. We’re going to have to stick together. When we get to the border I’ll scout ahead. I suspect there will be four guards, two on either side of the pass. There’s a small hut where they take turns sleeping since they change all four guards every two days."

"Are you going to shoot all four of them? Is that it?" asked Mel.

"No, I’ll sneak behind the building, try and take them out one by one with my knife. If I get caught I’ll open fire and that means you two start shooting as well. I know it’s hard," he said looking directly at Mel, "but if you don’t kill them, they’ll kill you." Mel nodded. She understood, it’s them or us, she thought.

"Remember, aim and then lower your pistol an inch or so. Novice shooters have the habit of shooting high. Just remember to act, don’t think."

Enzo got up and led the way. Mel and Janice took a second to look into each other’s eyes. Janice quickly leaned in for a light kiss. "Let’s go."

Enzo led the way, cutting up and across rocks. Ten minutes later he put up his hands to stop the women behind him. They leaned over his shoulder.

They were at a plateau, and about 30 yards in front of them were two soldiers sitting on a bench in front of the hut. Their rifles rested on their thighs and they were smoking and talking. They didn’t look young, or inexperienced. A third man walked out from behind some boulders buttoning up his fly and adjusting his heavy gray coat. He sat on the opposite side of the path.

"That’s three, where’s the fourth?" asked Janice.

"Let’s wait and see." They waited for 30 minutes. There was no sign of the fourth guard. Enzo turned to the women.

"All right, here’s what I think. The fourth guard is probably asleep in the hut. I’ll go around to the left and make my way behind the hut. I’ll draw the first guard in, take him out and hopefully the second guard as well. The third guard will wake the fourth guard and they’ll come looking for me. I’ll start shooting and you two make a run for it."

"What about you?" asked a concerned Mel.

"Don’t worry about me, I’m a crack shot."

Janice looked at Enzo. "I don’t like it. You’re an open target, I could…"

"No Janice," Mel couldn’t stop herself. She knew Janice’s instinct was to help Enzo, but it was too risky.

"Mel’s right Janice, you’re not going to act as a diversion. It’s insane. Understand?" He looked angry.

"I understand." Janice knew Enzo was right, she’d have no idea what to do.

Enzo adjusted his backpack. He smiled at the two women. "I’ll met you at

the bottom, in Switzerland." He slipped past them. The women watched him make his way around some rocks and out of sight.

They moved a little farther up the path, kneeling shoulder to shoulder. They waited for some time and then noticed the first guard snap his head up and look up behind the hut. He was an older man and he hesitated just a bit, turning his ear to the noise. He signaled to the other guard, but then put his finger to his lips, showing him he wanted him to remain quiet.

"Damn," swore Janice. "They’re going to sneak up on Enzo." Janice squirmed, she wanted to run and help and Mel felt the need to do something as well but she held back.

"We have to trust him Janice. He’s an expert. Give him a chance."

Janice licked her lips nervously. The guards disappeared behind the hut. The women looked on and then Mel heard a sound behind her. She turned her head slightly and reached for her pistol. Janice continued to stare at the hut, she obviously didn’t hear the noise. Mel knew there was someone behind her and she knew she had to surprise him before he surprised her.

She took a breath and turned quickly, spinning so her back was against the rock and fired at the dark blob that passed before her eyes. The gun recoiled and made a terribly loud sound. The missing fourth guard lurched forward and fired a round into the ground. Janice whipped around to see the surprised looking soldier with the red splotch on his chest fall forward into the dirt.

Janice looked over at Mel who still held her arm out in front of her, her fingers gripping the pistol. She looked stunned. Janice realized Mel saved both their lives with the shot, but knew they were in trouble. The guard who sat near the path rushed forward and both guards who were behind the hut emerged and ran towards them.

Janice grabbed Mel’s arm and spun her around so she faced the oncoming soldiers. "Start shooting Mel! Now!"

Janice fired towards the first guard and he took cover. Mel shook her head and blinked her eyes. She came to her senses and stated firing. They were pinned down with the soldiers making their way to them.

"Where’s Enzo?" shouted Janice.

They heard another gun fire from behind the hut and the guard closest to the hut fell face forward. Enzo was out there somewhere.

There were two guards left and Janice had run out of ammunition. She had no time to open her backpack and reload so she crawled towards the dead soldier to recover his rifle.

Mel turned her head for an instant to see what Janice was doing and one of the guards who had been steadily moving forward dived over the rocks and landed on Janice. Mel screamed and out of the corner of her eye saw the last guard stand up and point his rifle at her. Suddenly, she heard a bang and he fell forward, landing beside Mel. She saw that the back of his head had been blown off.

Mel saw Janice and the large guard rolling around. She tried to get a clear shot at the soldier, but was afraid she’d hit Janice. She was about to dive into the fight when another gun fired and the soldier on top of Janice stopped moving.

Mel looked over to see Enzo jump over the rocks and pull the soldier off Janice. There was blood between them.

"Janice are you all right?" shouted Enzo.

She was dazed and bleeding from cuts to her mouth and ear. ‘Yeah, I’m fine, I think."

Janice started getting up when a single shot was fired and Enzo fell backwards. Mel saw the guard she had shot was not dead and had somehow been able to reach inside his coat and pull out his pistol. Mel brought her hand up and fired a shot into his skull. He slumped forward. Now all four guards were dead.

Janice saw the look of hate on Mel’s face. It was a look she would never forget. She got to her knees and felt blood flow down the side of her stomach. It wasn’t a heavy flow, and she realized she had been nicked by the bayonet of the soldier’s rifle during the struggle. She put her hand against the wound to cover it from Mel and crawled towards Enzo.

Mel was holding his body in her arms. His breathing was shallow and Janice saw the blood oozing out of his chest.

"I guess my plan didn’t work," he said quietly.

"Shut up Enzo. We’re getting you out of here." Janice reached for the backpack grimacing at her own pain. Mel stroked Enzo’s forehead.

"Hang on Enzo, hang on." Her deep voice had a soothing quality and Enzo relaxed. Janice brought over the pack and dumped the supplies. She reached down and pulled out one of the knives from her boot. Mel was shocked, Janice didn’t have that knife when she got dressed this morning. Enzo must have slipped it to her when she was in the woods.

Janice cut open Enzo’s sweater and shirt, finding the bullet wound in the lower center of his chest. It looked bad, he was bleeding heavily. She stuck the bandage against the hole and wrapped the rest of the material

around him. She applied as much pressure as she could and glanced at Mel, who never took her eyes off of Enzo.

He groaned as she finished tying off the bandage and passed out.

"We have to keep pressure on the wound."

Mel nodded. "Right. I’ll put him over my back, keeping the wound pressed against my shoulder."

"Mel, he’s over 200 pounds. You can’t carry him."

"Just watch me." Mel pulled Enzo’s right arm over her back and bent her knees, pulling Enzo’s limp body up with her. Enzo’s head lolled against Mel’s back as she stood upright. Janice saw the strain on her face, and Janice flashed back to the cave in Macedonia when Xena had taken over Mel’s body. Mel had the same determined expression, but it wasn’t Xena leading her this time, it was Mel herself.

Janice picked up the backpacks and followed Mel around the boulders and the dead soldiers that littered the once beautiful countryside.

Enzo's weight pushed down on Mel, but her legs kept moving. Janice clutched her side, and she felt the blood flow increase. It wasn’t just a nick she realized, she had been stabbed. But she couldn’t stop, not when Enzo’s life depended on them. She was glad Mel was walking ahead of her. No matter what they had to make it down to pass and get help for Enzo, no matter what.

CHAPTER 36

Mel adjusted Enzo's large frame over one shoulder and turned her head and glanced back over the other shoulder.

"Janice, you're bleeding."

Janice brought her elbow against her side squeezing her wound, but then saw Mel was looking at her face. She wiped the drying blood from below her lip and her earlobe.

"I'm fine Mel. How about you?"

"I can do this." She turned her head back and started making her way down the path. Mel took deep breaths and large, confident strides. She marveled at her own strength. She had been a tall, solidly built child and remembered her disappointment when she continued her rapid growth into womanhood. She was never comfortable with her size, the other girls and women in town regarded her with open curiosity, but Mel's father always told her it was her birthright, and her size and strength only complemented her beauty.

She held her father's words in her heart as she moved down the steep path. She didn't think HOW she could do what she was doing, only WHY. She felt a warm wet spot spread through her sweater. It was Enzo's blood seeping onto her. She tightened her grip on his legs and picked up her pace.

Janice followed Mel's footsteps down the path. She adjusted the backpacks she carried and cautiously moved her left hand against her side. She wiggled her fingers against her body and found the wound. It wasn't deep, but it was longer than she imagined, maybe two inches across. "Damn," she cursed. The blood flowed down her side and leg. The pain wasn't bad, but she worried about the blood loss. Could she manage the three miles down the mountain before she passed out?

She thanked whatever god high above that Mel didn't know she was hurt. Janice knew if Mel realized she was injured Mel would have to make the choice between helping her or Enzo. There was no way she could carry both of them down the mountain and that soul-shattering choice would destroy Mel's life, for no matter whom she helped, the other would probably die.

Janice had no illusions about what was happening. She was well on her way to bleeding to death. She took a shaky breath and kept pace. "Don't turn around Mel, don't turn around."

Mel got into a rhythm, taking a deep breath and two long strides, a deep breath and two long strides. She kept her eyes glued to the twisting path in front of her feet.

She allowed a quick glance over her shoulder and noticed Janice was about 20 feet behind her. Mel thought Janice looked pale and she realized the weight of the three backpacks must be taking its toll on the smaller woman. She was surprised, since she had watched Janice's compact, muscular body outwork men twice her size on their digs.

She allowed a small smile to move across her face and thought maybe their activities last night and this morning had drained her lover of her power. She shook her head, 'This is no time for such thoughts Mel,' she chastised herself. 'No time.'

Thirty minutes passed. Mel kept up her pace.

Janice's legs felt like slabs of lead. It was an effort to put one foot in front of another, but her strong body held an internal reserve, and she drew on that reserve. Her hand was pressed against her side and although she tried to stem the flow of blood, she grimaced when she felt the warm liquid journey all the way into her boot.

Janice fell another 10 feet behind Mel. 'Walk, walk, walk,' she silently chanted.

Mel felt like a house had fallen on her. She was unable to fully straighten her knees, and her strides became shorter. She grunted with every breath, but she kept up her pace.

Janice fell another 10 feet behind.

Thirty minutes passed and Mel guessed they had less than a mile to go. She quickly turned her head and saw Janice had fallen quite far behind.

Mel hesitated. Janice labored, her stride didn't look steady and her face had grown very pale. While studying Janice, Mel heard Enzo's short, shallow breaths.

'Lord, what should I do?' she prayed. She stopped and somehow her bent, burdened body was able to hold onto Enzo. She waited for Janice to catch up, but she knew every second she waited for the smaller woman could cost Enzo his life.

Janice looked up, and though her vision had become blurry she saw Mel stop 50 feet in front of her. She gathered the last of her will and steadied her voice. "Mel, don't stop, keep going, I'm fine. I'll meet you at the bottom," she shouted.

Mel kept her gaze on Janice's face. She felt uneasy about leaving Janice behind, but slowly nodded her head. She turned and made the final push to the bottom.

Janice fell onto one knee. Her peripheral vision was gone, her breathing was shallow and if anyone looked closely they'd see her dark sweater was stained and wet along her left side. Janice gulped for air and staggered to her feet. 'C'mon Covington, you can do this.'

Mel rounded a wide corner and the path straightened out into a grassy plateau and then a thin forest. They were at the bottom of the pass but she didn't see anyone waiting. She panted and a low moan came out of her lips. "Where are you?"

Suddenly, a truck came though the forest. The grassy plateau narrowed and the truck pulled up some 20 yards from Mel. She saw three men jump out.

"Thank God," Mel panted. "Enzo, help is here. You're going to be all right." She was almost entirely bent over and Enzo's feet brushed against the loose rubble and grass that covered the path. Sweat poured off Mel's face and her mouth was cemented in a grimace. Her feet shuffled and she saw two men close in on her. Her body, which had accomplished the incredible, finally gave out and she collapsed underneath the unconscious Enzo.

Bishop and the dark-haired, lanky army doctor ran to towards the two prone figures. Bishop saw it was Bertinelli on top of the woman he had recognized as Melinda Pappas from the pictures provided by Pappas' banker.

"Bert!" he shouted. He reached the pair and pulled Bertinelli off Mel.

Janice fell forward, her hands unable to stop the impact of her face hitting the rocky path. She struggled to get up, her hands clawed at the ground and her head lolled up. Her sight was almost gone and the entire left side of her body was wet and sticky.

"God, I think I'm going to die," she said out loud.

Mel felt Enzo's weight lifted off her and groaned in relief. She blinked and saw a tall, red-headed man stare down at Enzo.

"Bert, Jesus Bert what happened!" The doctor reached Enzo and threw his bag to the ground.

"Oh, shit!" He ripped open Enzo's shirt and pulled back the bandage. "Okay Bish, help me get him to the truck."

"Right."

Bishop glanced down at Mel. "Are you all ri...Did you carry him all the way down the pass?" Bishop's usual glib expression was gone and was replaced by a look of utter disbelief.

Mel took a gulp of air and nodded her head wearily. She looked back over her shoulder searching for Janice, but there was no sign of her.

"Is Janice Covington with you Miss Pappas?" asked Bishop as he looked over Mel's shoulder and up the pass.

"Yes, she's right behind me."

Bishop didn't see anyone.

"Listen, stay right here while we get Bertinelli to the truck." He couldn't help but stare at this woman who had carried a 200 pound man on her back for miles.

Bishop and the doctor carried Enzo away and Mel rolled over and got to her feet. She was exhausted, but her body felt light as a feather with Enzo's extra weight gone from her broad shoulders.

"Janice?" she called out tentatively.

"Janice!" she called out louder. Her body ached and her feet were swollen in her boots, but she started her way back up the path.

Bishop and the doctor opened the back flap of the truck and gently lifted Enzo in. Inside was a makeshift hospital. Enzo had contacted Bishop two days ago saying they should met him, Covington and Pappas at the bottom of the pass and to expect casualties.

The doctor's long fingers inserted a IV into Enzo's arm and hooked it to a blood bag. He put a mask pumping ether over his face.

"I'm going remove the bullet. I just hope we have enough blood to replenish him." The truck driver moved beside the doctor and began assisting him while Bishop nodded gravely. He slid out of the truck and looked up to see Melinda Pappas lurch up the path. He broke into a run concerned that he didn't see Covington.

"JANICE!" Mel's voiced was high and raw. There was no answer. "JANICE!"

Mel rounded the bend and saw Janice crawling on the ground. Her fingers dug into the rocky soil and she clawed inch by inch down the path. Mel could clearly see the streak of blood that trailed behind the small woman like a snail's markings. Janice's beautiful face was twisted, and deep lines of pain and determination bravely battled for control of her visage.

"OH MY GOD, JANICE!"

Mel ran to Janice and fell to her knees beside her. She was now crying and her hands shook as she gently grabbed Janice's shoulders and turned her on her back.

"Mel," Janice whispered and then lost consciousness.

Mel's eyes focused on Janice's left side and saw that Janice's sweater and the entire left side of her pants were soaked in blood. Janice's eyes were closed, but Mel saw her pupils move under her pale eyelids.

"Oh, God!" she cried. "HELP, HELP!" Mel looked up and saw Bishop round the corner

"Please help, she's bleeding to death!"

Mel cradled Janice's limp body to her and whispered in her ear. "Why didn't you tell me you were hurt! Why?" Her tears touched Janice's cheeks and rolled down the smaller woman's face.

"Janice, you can't die! Do you hear me, you can't!... Please don't leave me, don't leave me!"

Bishop had to pull Janice from Mel's arms.

"Let me see Miss Pappas." Mel gently laid Janice down and Bishop pulled up Janice's sweater and saw the two inch wound. There was so much blood.

"Did she walk all the way down here like this?" Again his voice was tinged with amazement as he covered the wound with his hand.

"I...I don't know...I mean, yes, she must have been hurt in the fight...Oh God love..."

"Help me pick her up," interrupted Bishop. He had to keep Mel focused if he wanted to save Covington's life.

Mel picked up Janice's feet, but she couldn't see the path in front of her as tears streamed down her face.

"HEY!" the doctor shouted as Bishop whipped open the truck flap. He was stitching up Enzo and was about to scream at Bishop when he saw Melinda Pappas holding a small, bloodied woman in her arms.

"Holy shit, get her in here! Put her on the other cot." He quickly sewed up Enzo, cursing that his usual neat stitches were uneven and ragged. "Sorry pal," he mumbled under his breath.

Mel held Janice's hand and leaned over her prone body.

"I love you Janice," she whispered in her lover's ear, "and you made me a promise that you have to keep. You don't break promises Janice, you just don't." She squeezed Janice's hand. She brought her lips to Janice's cheek and gave her a gentle kiss. Bishop, who stood on the other side of the cot, turned his head trying to give Mel some privacy.

Mel started to cry again. She didn't speak anymore, since no words could express what she felt -- fear and utter, total love for the woman who lay dying beside her.

"All right, get her up here!" shouted the doctor. Mel ran the back of her hand across her wet eyes and shook her head to clear her thoughts. She held Janice's head while Bishop picked up her feet. They transferred her to the table. Enzo had been moved to the small cot behind the doctor.

The doctor checked Janice's vital signs and looked grim. Mel studied his expression and suddenly felt her fear turn into anger.

"Don't you give up on her! You got that!" she growled. Her usually smiling lips turned into a snarl and her blue eyes bore a hole into the tall doctor's brown eyes. He swallowed and somehow knew this beautiful woman could kill him if she had a mind to.

He put the mask over Janice's face and set up another IV. He pulled open a refrigerated drawer that had Janice's name on it. Mel noticed there were three drawers, each one labeled BERTINELLI, COVINGTON and PAPPAS. Mel realized they held blood matched to them individually.

He snipped away Janice's sweater and saw the wound wasn't deep. That wasn't the problem, it was the blood loss. He cleaned around and inside the bayonet wound and stitched it up. He watched the blood move through the IV.

"Now we wait," said the doctor.

"Wait for what," asked Mel

"We wait to see if she lives."

Mel swallowed and picked up Janice's cold hand. The doctor went over to talk to Bishop and the truck driver and Mel used the opportunity to once again lean over Janice.

"I'm letting you know, if you die, so help me, I'll be right behind you." She then leaned her head on Janice's shoulder and listened to the woman's shallow breathing.

CHAPTER 37

The truck slowly made its way through the forest and onto a dirt road leading out of the mountain range.

Mel sat on a box in the rolling, makeshift hospital holding Janice's body still as the truck swayed.

Doctor Jackson, as Mel learned was his name, didn't like the idea of moving his patients, but he had no choice, they would both run out of blood in the supply drawers within the next two hours and it would take that long to get to Zurich.

Bishop sat up with the driver in the front cab while the doctor checked on Enzo, who was just barely hanging onto life.

Mel studied Janice's wax-like face and continued her silent prayer.

'God above, you know I haven't asked for much in my life, I haven't had to since you've blessed me with so much and given me so much. But the last month has been a trial Lord and if this is the final test then I guess I fail because I can't help Janice anymore, only you can. Only you can save her life and allow her back into mine.

'My life is meaningless without her, and if you are the God that I believe exists, you accept the love we share with each other, all of it, including how we love one another. If you are that God, then you know I will do anything to keep our love alive. Ask anything of me oh Lord. Anything. I'll do anything, give up everything. Please, just please let Janice live.'

Her praying was interrupted by a low moan coming from Janice. Mel brought her hands to Janice's face and rubbed her fingers over her lover's cheeks.

"Janice, can you hear me? It's me Mel." She held back the tears, trying to sound brave for Janice.

Janice moaned again. Mel took it as a sign from above.

"Doctor Jackson quick! Janice made a noise."

Jackson stood up and turned around just in time to hear a final, faint moan come out of Janice's mouth. He smiled just a little bit.

"That's a good sign Miss Pappas, but don't get overly excited. She's still in grave danger."

Mel nodded her head but let out a long breath. She brought her head down to Janice's shoulder and kept her left arm stretched out across Janice's chest keeping the woman from moving around.

"Keep getting stronger love. Keep getting stronger," Mel whispered to her wounded soulmate.

Two hours later the truck pulled into a hospital in Zurich. Janice hadn't regained consciousness, but she had made more groaning sounds. Enzo was also hanging on, but he was still in danger of slipping away.

Mel took a moment to study Enzo's face before the orderlies took him into the hospital. She sent another silent prayer above on his behalf.

She turned back to Janice and helped the orderlies move her onto a proper stretcher. She walked beside Janice holding onto her hand, and as they entered the hospital together she felt a wave of relief.

Doctor Jackson ran ahead and opened the emergency room door. Janice was whisked inside, but suddenly a large arm came up and barred Mel from entering the ward and following Janice.

In an instant Mel grabbed the arm and twisted it behind the sentry's back and pushed him out of the way.

The large army private, who was assigned to guard the military personnel in the Swiss hospital, fell in a surprised heap. He was stunned and embarrassed that a woman had just flicked him out of the way like some annoying horsefly.

Mel was again beside Janice.

A gray-haired doctor was about to say something, but Doctor Jackson spoke up.

"Don't bother Erich, she won't leave."

The older doctor simply nodded his head. He examined Janice thoroughly, seemingly most interested in her blood pressure. He made notes and just before an impatient Mel was about to yell "say something!" he looked at Mel and nodded his head yes.

"She'll live," said the old man with a thick accent.

Mel closed her eyes and then fainted.

CHAPTER 38

A terrible ache took hold of Janice’s body as she swam towards consciousness. She blinked her eyes and opened them slowly. She was alive.

‘I made it... I think.’ It hurt to blink, to move her head, in fact it hurt to move any part of her body. She looked up at a gray-green ceiling and took a shallow breath. She turned her head slightly to the right and just before slipping back into darkness Janice thought she saw an unconscious Mel in a hospital bed beside her.

"JANICE!" Mel awoke with a start. She looked across the hospital room and saw Janice was still out cold.

"Damn, I fell asleep."

Mel remembered fainting when the elderly Swiss doctor had confirmed Janice would live. The next thing she knew she was lying on a hospital bed beside Janice. A smirking Doctor Jackson was staring down at her.

"Why’d you have to go and faint? Now no one believes me when I tell them what you did." He smiled, and his small teeth, thin lips and natty mustache reminded Mel of a young Errol Flynn.

"Is Janice all right," she said while trying to sit up.

"Whoa there." He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back down. "She’s resting. I don’t expect she’ll come to for quite some time."

"I don’t need to be in bed, let me up." Again she tried to rise.

"Listen here. You’re exhausted, your feet are swollen and the muscles of your upper back are severely strained. You need rest." He bent down and whispered in her ear. "And, if I didn’t admit you, you’d be waiting for Janice to wake up in the tiny waiting room on the other side of the hospital. Do you want that?" He stood back up.

"No...I...thank you." It was a considerate gesture and she couldn’t even begin to thank him. He winked. "Don’t hurry and get better." He left the room and Mel turned on her side staring at her pale lover, whose breathing was shallow but steady. Mel vowed to stay awake until Janice awoke, but as the hours passed her resolve bent under the weight of heroic exhaustion.

Now that she was awake, Mel got out of bed and shuffled over to Janice. She was wearing a flannel nightgown that was embarrassingly short on her tall body. She tried pulling it down to at least cover her knees, but it didn’t stretch an inch. Her aching body felt as if it had been stomped on by Babe The Blue Ox but she was grateful it had somehow managed to save Janice and Enzo. Enzo? Was he all right? God, she hadn’t even asked after him.

Her long fingers wrapped around Janice’s smaller hand. She bent down and brushed her lips across Janice’s forehead.

"I’m here Janice. I’m here." She looked around the room and saw a chair in the corner. She brought it over and grabbed a blanket from her bed. She settled into the chair, taking hold and stroking Janice’s right hand.

Hours passed but Janice still didn’t wake up. Doctor Jackson and the elderly Swiss doctor came in every so often and scolded Mel, telling her to get back in bed, and each time she did and then got right back out. She was too much of a lady to argue with them, but there was no way she would miss Janice waking up. Mel learned Enzo had pulled through but was in critical condition, and she sent a silent prayer above for his recovery.

Mel ate a light supper and after dinner began to talk to Janice, telling her about her only stay in the hospital when she was ten-years-old and her appendix burst. She was so scared, but her daddy was there for her, never leaving her side, holding her hand and telling her marvelous stories about Greek gods, golden-haired heroes and the battles they fought.

"Now I have my own golden-haired hero, imagine that! She’s so brave and beautiful and she fights for what’s right. Who would have guessed one day I’d look into her eyes and see that she loves me. I want to look into your eyes Janice, open them for me please...please." Her voice tightened with emotion. Mel bent her head in submission, spiritually and physically exhausted by her vigil.

"Flaxen."

Mel’s head shot up. A droopy-eyed Janice was staring back at her.

"What?" she asked hoarsely.

"Flaxen, my hair’s more flaxen than golden." Janice managed a tiny, weak smile. Through her hooded gaze she saw Mel’s face scrunch together and the dark-haired woman let out a whimper as tears began to flow down her face. Mel now understood why Janice had started to cry when she saw her on the train after thinking she must have died. It was an emotional release she wasn’t expecting and she buried her face in Janice’s shoulder causing the smaller woman to absorb her body’s shaking sobs.

"Shhh, Mel, Shhh." Janice brought her left hand up and although it hurt to move she stroked Mel’s hair as it fanned across her chest.

"I’m here. I’m not dead, and I’m not going to die."

Janice’s mind raced back to the moment when she collapsed. She wasn’t afraid of dying, which surprised her. She always assumed she would cower when she faced the end, but she felt only love, love for Mel. She remembered starting to crawl, swearing she would look upon the world’s most beautiful face one last time before she departed. She needed to glimpse Mel’s light, catch the inner glow that shone from those blue orbs, for that light would guide her to the other side. It was a strange thought coming from an avowed agnostic, but it seemed so right. That’s why she fought so hard, crawling like a stricken snail to Mel.

She remembered the giddy joy of seeing Mel round the bend and she caught the glimpse, the light, and it sent her on her way. But suddenly the light switched off and she was fighting inside her own body. She somehow knew she would not pass over that day. Mel was here. Mel needed her.

"I love you Mel," she whispered, and Mel cried harder. Janice knew all too well what Mel was feeling and allowed Mel her release.

A few minutes later Mel looked up. Janice was smiling down at her like an angel, an earthly angel.

"Now who messed up whose clothing," said Janice weakly.

Mel pulled her blanket up and wiped her own face and Janice’s shoulder. She then wiped the tiny tears that ran down Janice’s cheek.

"I’m sorry...I’m just happy you’re alive."

Janice beamed back at her.

Mel dropped the blanket and stroked Janice’s cheek with her warm hand. "Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt Janice?" Mel worked hard to keep the tremendous pain she felt out of her voice.

"And how would you have carried me and Enzo down the pass? I thought I could make it," she lied, "and Enzo was much worse off. I couldn’t ask you to decide between us."

"Janice," Mel removed her hand and placed it over her own heart. "we can’t do this to each other. I know you did what you did to protect me, but I can’t let you make that kind of decision without me. If you were to go, then I’d be right behind you."

A cold chill ran down Janice’s spine. "No, Mel, don’t say that."

"It’s true, and you know it because you’d do the same thing."

Janice knew Mel was right. Her life without Mel would be a short one.

"So we promise, cross our hearts," Mel made a X with her finger over her heart, "that in the future all life and death decisions are made together, forever."

Janice brought her fingers over her heart and made an X. "I promise." She choked back her tears because at that moment she knew Mel had committed herself to her, for the rest of their lives.

Mel leaned over and gently kissed Janice on the mouth. "Good." She finally smiled her lopsided smile and Janice wished she had the strength to kiss her back.

"Now rest while I get the doctor."

"Mel?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you in that nightgown?"

CHAPTER 39

Janice’s recovery was slow but steady. Mel puttered around in her short gown, although she had managed to find a old man’s dressing gown to wear over top of the immodest shift. Janice didn’t do a very good job of hiding her disappointment.

The Swiss medical staff suspected Mel was well enough to check out but they knew she was not going to leave Janice’s side.

They watched Mel sit beside the smaller woman all day, talking and reading to her. They had given her the only English book they had in the hospital, a copy of Portrait Of A Lady, and after lunch and dinner Mel read a chapter aloud to a grateful Janice.

They noticed that if Mel wasn’t holding the smaller woman’s hand, she was stroking her arm or leg.

They noticed how she straightened the sick woman’s bedding and loving changed her bed pan as if it was her duty and not theirs.

And they noticed the smaller woman was practically glowing due to the attention she was receiving.

Enzo regained consciousness after the second day and asked to see Mel. She shyly entered his room feeling a little exposed in her robe and gown.

"Enzo, I’m so glad you’re feeling better." She walked over and took hold of his hand.

"Thanks to you."

"Don’t mention it."

He wasn’t going to allow her to shrug off what happened. Bishop had told him what she had done and what Janice had done. He couldn’t believe what he heard and he made Bishop go over the story four times.

"I’m not sure how...how to thank you..."

"You just did." She gave him one of her brilliant smiles.

"Bishop told me what you did, although neither of us can figure how you did it."

"Believe me Enzo, I have no idea either. I guess I’m stronger than I look. It’s not much of an explanation, but it’s the best I can come up with."

"When you get back to the States I want you and Janice to come to Philadelphia and meet my wife Carol and my daughter Susan. They should meet the women who saved their husband and daddy."

"We’d be honored Enzo." Mel felt another unexpected link being forged onto her life chain, a chain that was beginning to lengthen with incredible people whom she loved and who loved her -- Janice, Matilda, Karen, Adam, Marie and now Enzo and his family.

"How’s Janice?"

"She’s getting stronger everyday. She had me scared for a while," admitted Mel quietly.

"Her sacrifice, I mean I understand why she did it, and there’s no way I can thank her properly..."

"Save it for her Enzo," interrupted Mel. She hated to revisit the memory of Janice’s sacrifice and Enzo could feel her distress.

"Right, I tell her myself."

"You do that."

Janice was able to get out of bed on the fourth day and it was then the hospital staff had to ask Mel to leave. An American nurse came down with pneumonia and they needed Mel’s bed. Mel reluctantly left Janice and checked into a nearby hotel.

It was time for her to contact Sumner and get some much needed money. He wired her enough cash to make their stay very comfortable. He had been worried sick when Mel had disappeared. He was told she had checked out of her hotel in London and he hadn’t heard from her since. The Navy and Washington pencil pushers stonewalled him and he suspected she had been kidnapped and was frankly surprised there had been no ransom demands.

Mel made up a story about Janice showing up at her hotel door injured, and whisking her out of the country to avoid the Navy finding her. She told Sumner Janice had finished a secret mission and was lying low and she couldn’t take the risk of contacting him until now. They had made their way to Zurich and it was imperative he not tell anyone where they were. He bought the story hook, line and sinker, feeling important enough to have earned Mel’s trust. Mel felt a little guilty deceiving him, but she knew he wouldn’t be able to handle to truth.

He asked if she was coming home, but this time there wasn’t disapproval in his voice, only concern. She answered honestly -- she didn’t know. She wasn’t sure how long they would stay in Europe as she and Janice hadn’t spoken of where they’d go next.

Mel wished to forge the final link in her life chain and take Janice home to Charleston. But it was really up to Janice. Mel knew Janice had a powerful need to control her own destiny and cherished her freedom. Charleston was a step towards a domesticity that Janice had never experienced in her adventurous life and there was no way Mel would inflict that on her unless it was what she wanted.

As her body healed Janice had time to think. She had done her part for Uncle Sam, and although she wasn’t much of a success as a spy, she was now free and clear. However, Bishop made a point of coming to talk to Janice the minute he saw Janice’s beautiful watchdog Melinda Pappas leave.

He lightly grilled Janice on the mission and her failure to locate the Sumerian treasure. His questions grew increasingly pointed and accusatory and that’s when Janice feigned exhaustion. He backed off and eventually left, suspecting Janice was not entirely honest about what had happened in Berlin, but there was nothing he could do about it. He knew Melinda Pappas would back up Janice’s story and he chalked up the assignment as a disappointing failure.

What next? It was a question that rolled through Janice’s mind. Go after Jack Kleinman and the scrolls? Stay in Switzerland until the end of the war? Go to the States? That was an idea. The only prolonged time she had spent in America was during her college years. She had received her degree from the University of Chicago, and had like the city immensely, probably because it was full of gangsters and G-Men. New York had nothing on the gun-toting Midwestern burg.

What about Charleston? Go home with Mel, sink into her world She felt suddenly light-headed. God, could she settle into life in the south as Mel’s unruly lover? Mel had no idea how difficult life would be for them. She had no experience with prejudice and hate. It was something they had never spoken of, seeing they were always too busy trying to stay alive.

Mel was deep in love, but that rosy glow would be tarnished when Mel’s home town rejected them, rejected Mel, and called her a pervert, a degenerate. There was no way she could ask Mel to ruin her life for her. It just wasn’t fair. She had no idea what to suggest to Mel.

Mel visited all day, everyday, and by the end of a week Janice was out walking the halls and scandalizing the nurses who caught her smoking cigars that Bishop had smuggled into her. Mel scolded her, but Janice didn’t listen. She had left her cigars on the train in England and it felt so good to light up.

Janice also found it hard to keep her hands to herself. She was finally feeling strong enough to reciprocate Mel’s gentle hand-holding and subtle caresses and she longed to take Mel into her arms and make love to her. They only had the one night and morning together before their escape and she felt the powerful need to be with Mel.

Mel felt it also.

On the eighth day of Janice’s stay Mel arrived early, just after breakfast. She found it hard to sleep when she knew Janice was waiting for her. The room was empty except for Janice as the American nurse with pneumonia had gotten well enough to be moved to a sanitarium.

Mel was wearing a lovely two-piece caramel suit, brown pumps and a burgundy blouse. She had been shopping and she had to admit the shops in Zurich were splendid. The clothes were well-made and she even made forays into men’s shops to browse on Janice’s behalf and had mentally picked out a few suitable outfits.

Janice’s eyes widened at the sight of Mel in the tight, tapered suit. She was such a beautiful woman and she knew how to accentuate her looks without a trace of conceit.

"My God you’re stunning." She didn’t mean to speak out loud, but it just came out of her mouth. Mel stopped short of the bed, caught off guard. Janice looked at her with such love and longing. She suddenly felt shy and exposed.

"C’mere," said Janice in a deeper voice than usual. Mel dropped her shopping bags full of goodies and made her way to Janice’s bed. Janice was sitting up and she scooted over to one side of the bed. Mel sat down on the edge. Janice held Mel’s blue, blue eyes with her own. She slowly raised her hand and took off Mel’s glasses. She gently laid them on the night stand.

Then she leaned forward, bringing her hands to Mel’s face. She held the woman’s face and brought her lips close.

"I’m going to kiss you Mel."

Mel swallowed and nodded

Janice allowed her lips to lightly press against Mel’s. She had forgotten how much she needed this. She pressed a bit harder and felt Mel respond. It was a slow, welcoming hello. Janice’s tongue emerged and traced a sweet, wet line around Mel’s full lips and Mel opened her mouth inviting Janice to explore, make herself at home. Janice did just that and she slowly realized she was being pushed back on the bed as Mel’s hands pressed against her shoulders.

The intensity of the kiss increased and Mel began to moan as her tongue intertwined with Janice’s. They broke apart and came together time and time again, both knowing they shouldn’t be doing what they were doing here in the hospital. But there was a longing in their bodies and a hunger in their souls that needed to be filled.

Mel was practically lying on top of Janice, her confined breasts rubbing against Janice’s thinly covered chest. Their hands moved over each other quickly and effortlessly, afraid to stop in one place for too long lest they miss a spot. Janice had trouble catching her breath between Mel’s oral thrusts and she finally had to pull away, light-headed and a little dizzy.

"Wow!" she gasped.

Mel’s head lay on Janice’s shoulder. She pulled Janice in for a tight hug. She wasn’t able to speak.

They stayed that way for minutes, neither women able to break the physical spell that held them together. They both knew the other was smiling from ear to ear.

Finally Janice spoke. "I think I’ll be checking out today."

Mel’s head jerked up off Janice’s shoulder.

"I don’t think you should, it’s only been a week."

"Eight days," Janice corrected her.

"Janice, you almost died. I know you seem well and if that...that kiss was any indication of the energy you’re going to expend then I’m not so sure you’re up to it."

"Don’t you worry about me, I can keep up my side of things."

Mel blushed.

"Don’t you want us to..."

"Yes, of course Janice! My lord, you have no idea," she brought her hand up and stroked Janice’s cheek. "I’m just afraid. You well-being is everything to me."

"All right, we take it slow, but I am checking out of here. You can be my nurse and to be honest, the food here stinks."

They took a taxi to the Hotel Europe and Mel helped Janice up to their room. Janice was walking normally, but her side was a little sore and she was simply tired. Mel hovered like a bear around her cub, and Janice had to remind her to give her enough room to breathe.

Their room was on the 6th floor and it was lovely. Cozy, with lots of colorful wall tiles and fresh flowers. There was a war on, but you couldn’t tell from this room, in this city, and certainly not in this neutral country with its healthy banking system. It angered Mel, thinking whose money was filling up all those banks, but she was in no position to point fingers, since this place was their safe harbor.

Janice walked around the room and gave Mel the thumbs up sign. The bathroom was small, but it was clean and of course Mel kept the room looking immaculate. Janice went and sat down on the bed and bounced up and down a few times. Mel smirked at the smaller woman as she busied herself unwrapping her shopping bundles.

Janice lay down and despite her bravado she felt tired and she reluctantly closed her eyes. Within minutes she was asleep. Mel stopped what she was doing and gave Janice a sad, wistful look. She slipped off her pumps, took off her suit jacket and undid the buttons and zipper on her skirt. She moved behind Janice and onto the bed. She curled her longer body around Janice and laid her had across her waist.

Mel remembered this was the same position in which Janice held her and comforted her after the attack in Turkey. She remembered it was also the first time they had touched each other, other than a quick hug or an accidental brush by. Mel felt glad she could now be the one comforting Janice, holding her, passing her strength onto her. She sighed and within a few minutes she too was asleep.

That night the women went out to dinner, and Mel had actually gotten Janice to wear a woman’s shirt with her new pair of black wool pants. It was a long sleeved black shirt and Mel felt an erotic tingle move through her body while studying Janice in her all-black ensemble. Mel wore a navy suit with a white blouse and she dressed up the outfit with a corsage.

Janice’s appetite had returned in full force and the evening was full of laughter and flirting as the women felt refreshed and for the first time, free. Despite the fact they were in the middle of a war, the pair felt as if they could do anything.

"Janice, you’re not seriously going to eat that second piece of torte?" asked Mel laughingly

"Of course I am! It’s heavenly, try some." She placed her torte-filled fork to Mel’s lips. She caught Mel’s eye and Mel smiled seductively and licked her lips, but never opened her mouth more than half an inch. Janice swallowed at the simple, sexy display.

"You shouldn’t do that here, I can’t be responsible for my actions."

"Oh, really?" teased Mel

"Really. Look here, you have a piece of torte on your chin." There wasn’t anything on Mel’s chin, but Janice couldn’t think of another way to caress her face in public. She pretended to flick away the cake and let her finger move across Mel’s satin skin. Mel’s eyes locked with Janice’s.

"How are you feeling Janice?" Mel’s voice was sinking to her lowest register and Janice’s heart skipped a beat.

"Fine, let’s go," the words rushed out of her mouth and she waited for Mel to throw some bills on the table. They walked quickly to the hotel, glancing over at one another, smiling and bumping against one another as the walked, anything to keep in contact. In the elevator on the way up to their room Janice grabbed Mel’s hand so she could pull her towards their room as soon as the doors opened.

Janice fumbled with the key to the room, distracted by Mel pressing herself against her back. She could smell Mel’s perfume and she felt the petals of her corsage tickle her neck as Mel leaned over her watching her struggle with the lock.

Janice finally got it open and felt Mel push her into their room. In a swift, graceful move Mel swooped the smaller woman up in her arms and nuzzled her neck.

Janice was shocked. She had never seen Mel so amorous, romantic and she once again had to remind herself that this all-encompassing physical love was brand-new to Mel, and Janice knew she had to safeguard Mel’s pure heart. She allowed Mel to place her on the bed.

"You say I’m the beautiful one, but it’s you, not me." Mel didn’t wait for Janice to respond as she knelt on the floor at the side of the bed and began to rapidly undress Janice. Janice was in Mel’s hands tonight. Anything Mel wanted to do, say, was all right with her. No one had ever owned her so completely, she was the slave to her dark-haired master.

Within minutes Janice was nude and Mel gazed lovingly over her body. Her eyes stopped at the scar on her side and she swallowed. Janice lifted Mel’s chin and looked into her eyes.

"Don’t think about it. Imagine it’s a birthmark, because in a way it is. I was born that day, our first day after making love."

Mel broke her silence. "I like that." She brought her fingers across the scar watching to see if Janice flinched. She didn’t and Mel knew it was all right to love Janice. She quickly brought her lips to Janice’s mouth in a hard, powerful kiss. Janice wrapped her body around Mel who continued the deep, penetrating kiss. Janice’s hands fumbled with Mel’s suit and she had to finally break the kiss to get Mel to disrobe.

Suddenly there was no time for languorous lovemaking, the women needed to confirm their connection and it was Mel who set the pace, stroking, kissing and exploring Janice’s body. She pushed Janice back on the bed and within seconds was positioned in between Janice’s legs. She moved inside the smaller woman and both her fingers and her tongue left their mark on Janice, who allowed herself to be taken to the pinnacle of pleasure. She exploded and cried Mel’s name in a loud clear voice.

Mel moved up beside her, stroking and kissing her and Janice knew Mel was bursting with her own need. Janice fought to get control back into her weak muscles and brought her lips and fingers to Mel’s taunt nipples. She sucked and teased, pulled and pinched, listening for Mel’s tell-tale sounds of enjoyment. She moved lower, kissing Mel’s soft stomach.

"Are you ready for me," teased Janice, studying Mel who had closed her eyes and thrown back her head.

"Yes," came the panting reply.

Janice wrapped her hands around Mel’s thighs and gently opened Mel. Mel was wet and very ready and although Janice tried to prolong her lover’s pleasure, Mel would have none of it. She wanted to come and within seconds Mel let out a loud gasp, and then another. Janice kept her fingers inside Mel, not wanting to separate from the woman she loved most in the world.

"Janice." Mel said it quietly, reverently. Janice rubbed Mel’s stomach with her free hand and settled in between Mel’s legs.

"I love you Mel," said Janice into Mel’s inner thigh. Mel laughed at the ticklish feeling of Janice speaking into her flesh.

It wasn’t long before they started loving again, this time they took their time and began to map out each other’s bodies, recording every detail in their minds.

CHAPTER 40

Morning had come and gone. A breakfast tray lay on the floor by the bed and two very beautiful and very tired women lay asleep in each other’s arms.

Janice cracked open an eye and noticed the afternoon sun cut across the floor of their room. She decided this was a perfect moment in a growing collection of perfect moments. Mel’s head lay on her chest and her long legs wrapped around her as if they were powerful vines. Mel had been magnificent last night -- loving, passionate and she held nothing back. Janice had never been loved with such honesty and purity.

Mel felt Janice awaken but she kept her eyes closed, holding onto the moment of waking up in Janice’s arm. She could never have imagined a night like last night, so full of passion and love. She had no idea her body could feel that way. Janice was amazing -- giving, patient and when the mood struck, absolutely fierce.

Both of Janice’s eyes were open and she reached down and pulled the blanket up higher around both of their chins and snuggled closer into Mel.

"Cold," asked Mel

Janice nodded. "Just a little."

The women lay there in a shared silence. Janice knew it was time to talk about the future. She didn’t have any answers, but she did have some questions.

"Mel?"

"Hmm,"

"What does your room look like?"

"What room?" asked a confused Mel.

"You know, your room. The place you slept before you met me. The place where you grew up, where you dreamed about golden-haired heroes."

Mel held her breath for a moment. "Umm, well, the walls are painted a lovely shade of lilac, and there are books everywhere, I must admit I’m a little messy when it comes to my books. There’s a crack along the upper right corner of the ceiling and I’m not sure why I remember that, but..."

"Mel, you’re rambling."

"I know," she said softly. She hesitated. "Why do you ask?’

"I don’t know, I was kind of curious. I was thinking...I might want to see it."

"Oh. I see." Mel tried to slow her rapidly beating heart.

Janice shifted under the blanket and rose up against the headboard bringing Mel with her. Mel settled in beside Janice, turning to face her.

"Mel," she spoke softly, "what would your family and friends think about someone like me? A cigar-smokin’, foul-tempered Yankee who’s going to share your bed in your pretty lilac room."

"It doesn’t matt - "

"Mel," she interrupted, "it does matter. Women lovers aren’t exactly accepted in the world, especially in your genteel world where appearance means so much. I’m afraid people would treat you cruelly and I couldn’t bear that."

Mel sat up in bed and shook her head in disgust.

"Have you not been paying attention Janice Covington? What do I care what anyone thinks? Charleston is the place I live, but you are my home and no one will tell me how to live inside my own home. Nothing anyone could say to me in front of my face or behind my back would make me change the way I feel about you. Lord, Janice!"

Mel pulled away from Janice and Janice knew she had made a mistake in trying to protect a woman as valiant and brave as Mel.

"I’m sorry," she whispered. She stared out the window, afraid to look at Mel. She felt like a fool.

Mel turned and looked at Janice's profile. In all the time she had known the woman she had never seen her looking shameful, until now. Mel regretted her outburst, Janice was just trying to protect her and God knows Janice had paid a price for the way she lived her life. Although Janice was brash, she was also gentle and shy, and society’s rejection had left its mark deep inside her. Mel’s privileged, loving upbringing sometimes made her arrogant. What did she know about what was to come their way?

She reached over and stroked Janice’s hair. "Look at me Janice...honey." Janice didn’t want to but grinned at the endearment.

"Honey?" She still stared out the window.

Mel brought both arms around Janice, surrounding her with love. She brought her lips to Janice’s ear.

"I like honey, but if you don’t want me to use it I won’t."

Janice shrugged. "It’s okay."

"I’m sorry Janice," whispered Mel. "You’re right, it won’t be easy back home, but it’s something I’m willing to face with you by my side. I love that you’re concerned for me, but don’t ever forget that we’re in this together, forever."

Janice turned and looked at Mel. "Forever." She kissed Mel lightly on the nose. "So, what do you say we go...home."

"I’d like that Janice. I mean, I’d love that." Mel brought her lips to Janice’s and sealed their future together.

THE END

[love-god-forever]

Salvation Testimony: God Accompanied Me Through Those Dark Days

By Zhao Zhihan

On the evening of August 13, 2014, I went out running some errands, but a sudden rain caused me some delay, so it was about 12 a.m. when I returned. On my arrival at the gate of my community, I met my elder sister and two brothers-in-law. “Why are they here at this late hour?” I felt confused. But before I could understand the situation, my sister sobbed and said, “How come you came back so late? We’re so worried about you. Your husband just met with a serious car accident and is badly injured.

Now, he is being transferred to the city hospital. Our brother called and asked you to go there …” “What? A car accident?” I simply couldn’t believe my ears. “How is this possible? I just saw him calling our son at dinner. How come he …” Seeing my bemused look, my two brothers-in-law explained the whole accident to me in detail, and told me, “The doctors of the county hospital said his chances of survival are poor, and that even if he could survive, it is very possible that he would be in a vegetative state for the rest of his life.” After I heard their words, my heart began to thump violently and I burst into tears, feeling as if heaven had come crashing down. At that moment, I really didn’t know how to deal with such a terrible situation.

Because it was too late, we couldn’t get a cab to the city hospital. I got extremely anxious and feared that I would not be able to see my husband in his last moment. Just when I was in helplessness, Job’s testimony struck me. When he encountered trials, he didn’t sin through his words or complain to God. Instead, he praised Jehovah God’s name and finally bore resounding testimony to God. I also remembered Abraham’s story. When he was a hundred years old, God bestowed upon him a son, but later asked him to make his son a burnt offering to Him. Although Abraham bore great pain in his heart, he was still able to obey God’s words. When God saw Abraham’s genuine heart, He not only didn’t ask his son of him, but even blessed him, and made his progeny as numerous as the stars of the heaven, and as plentiful as the sand on the sea shore. At the thought of this, I immediately prayed to God, “Oh God, my husband’s accident upset the balance of my mind. I’m so worried about his condition now. But thinking of Job’s and Abraham’s reverence and obedience to You, I know I should emulate them. Oh God, please protect my heart so that I won’t complain to You. I’m willing to submit to Your sovereignty and entrust my husband’s life to You.” After prayer, my anxiety slowly subsided.

Afterward, my brothers-in-law found a cab; when we arrived at the city hospital, it was about 5 a.m. Learning that my husband had been wheeled into the ICU, I anxiously went to ask the doctor about his condition. He said with a sigh, “His injury is too serious. Even if he could survive, he is very likely to become a vegetable. So, you’d better prepare yourself for the worst. Besides, you need to prepare at least 200 thousand yuan for the treatment.” Hearing his words, I nearly died of shock, thinking: “200 thousand yuan? If the treatment fails, I may lose both him and money. In that case, how are my son and I going to live without the backbone of the family? Even if he could survive, he would become a vegetable, and how should I support my family by myself?” These thoughts pressed down on me so hard that I couldn’t even breathe. I had no idea what I should do, and leaned against the wall weakly, feeling as if everything had gone black before my eyes.

In helplessness, I went before God and poured out my sufferings to Him: “Oh God, my stature is too small, so facing this situation, I feel particularly weak and don’t know what to do. Oh God, please enlighten me and guide me …” While praying, I thought of God’s words, “Like all things, man quietly and unknowingly receives the nourishment of the sweetness and rain and dew from God. Like all things, man unknowingly lives under the orchestration of God’s hand. The heart and spirit of man are held in the hand of God, and all the life of man is beheld in the eyes of God. Regardless of whether or not you believe this, any and all things, living or dead, will shift, change, renew, and disappear according to God’s thoughts. This is how God rules over all things.” Right, God is the source of man’s life and our life is bestowed by Him. Be they men or all things, their life and death are all in God’s hands. This is a reflection of God’s authority. Therefore, as a created being, I ought to obey God’s orchestration. When Moses guided the Israelites out of Egypt, there was no food for them to eat in the wilderness. At that moment, Jehovah God supplied them with quail and manna. As long as they listened to God’s words and obeyed Him, there would be abundant supply of food from God. However, some people lacked genuine faith in God. They feared that there would be no food the next day, so they preserved some manna, which, however, all became rotten the next day. From this story, I understood that, God is the Creator, who supplies and nourishes us mankind, and that as long as we sincerely obey Him and trust Him, we’ll obtain His continuous supply. At the thought of this, my depression and tension eased a lot.

Then I went to the ICU, only to see my husband’s body covered in bruises; his ears were bleeding because of a fracture of his skull. Apart from that, he had several other injuries: lung damage, three broken ribs, fractures to his right femur and five toes of his left foot. “When he went to work this morning, he was so happy and vigorous; and when he made a call to our son at dinner, he was still safe and sound. But now he is lying on the sickbed with life hanging in the balance.” At this thought, I felt so painful as if a needle had stabbed into my heart.

On the third day, my husband’s situation suddenly turned worse. His breathing became faint, and his complexion was extremely sallow like that of a dead man. Our relatives were all crying, saying that he wouldn’t make it. Looking at my husband, I felt utterly helpless. The thought that I might forever lose him threw me into deep grief. At that time, I remembered a hymn of experience, “God’s Ways Cannot Be Fathomed”: “You span heaven and earth, who knows the compass of Your deeds? We see but one grain on a sandy beach, quietly wait at Your disposal.” I silently sang the hymn in my heart and thought: “God is the Creator, who dominates the change of all things as well as the laws of nature. His authority and ability are beyond the limitation of geography and space. When the Lord Jesus came to do His work, He quieted the wind and the sea just by saying a word. And with one word, He resurrected Lazarus, who had been dead for four days. These facts all display that the authority of God’s words is immeasurable. Only God possesses such authority; He seizes the key to Hades and determines man’s life and death; He is able to raise the dead and bring something from nothing.” Pondering this, I gained some faith in God, believing that whether my husband could survive or not was in the hand of God, and I was willing to entrust his life to God.

The next morning, my son and I went to the ICU asking the nurses about my husband’s condition. When they told us that he was a little better than before, I shed grateful tears, quietly offering thanks and praise to God in my heart.

However, one week later, my husband still hadn’t come around. His doctor told me, “If he still remains unconscious, you’ll have to transfer him to another hospital, and I advise you to prepare some money for his future surgeries.” Then, the doctor pointed at a patient and continued, “This patient’s injuries are less serious than your husband’s. But after more than ten days of treatment, his edema hasn’t subsided and he is still in a coma. So we have to transfer him to another hospital.” Hearing these words, I was desperately worried that my husband wouldn’t wake up. “I’ve taken out a huge overdraft to pay the hospital bill. How could I raise so much money for the following surgeries? What if I delay his treatment because I fail to raise enough money?” At this thought, I was overwhelmed by anxiety and fear.

On the tenth day, his doctor said to me, “I’ve contacted a hospital for you. If your husband can’t come around these two days, you’ll have to transfer him, because he must have an operation on his femur in 5 days; otherwise, he would be disabled for the rest of his life. You need to prepare about 400 thousand yuan for his surgery as soon as possible.” Meanwhile, my relatives and the traffic police were looking for the culprit, but there were no results. My friends and relatives knew I was short of money, but they just offered a few words of comfort without the intention to help me. In desperation, I went before God crying and prayed to Him, “Oh God, though my husband hasn’t awoken yet, I know You’re protecting him. Today the doctor again asked us to transfer him to another hospital and prepare a large amount of money for his surgery. Now I feel utterly desperate and have no way to go. Please open up a path for me.” After prayer I calmed down a lot, and thought: “These days, I’ve personally seen God’s wondrous deeds through praying to Him and getting close to Him. It is entirely thanks to God’s blessing that my husband narrowly escaped death. So I believe that, as long as I truly rely on God, He will help me.” Then I consulted with my family members to find a solution.

To my surprise, when I went home to raise money, my uncle told me that he was willing to help me, and I also learned that the culprit had been found. At that time, my son phoned me and said excitedly, “Mom, dad has woken up. The doctors told me that we don’t need to transfer him, and they are scheduling him for surgery. Please come here quickly …” The good news made me weep for joy, and I continuously thanked God and praised His wondrous deeds.

Before the operation, the doctor asked me to sign the guarantee and the notice of critical condition, saying: “Though your husband has woken up, he is quite weak because of his injuries. The surgery will take a long time and he will be put under a general anesthetic. So the risk is he may never wake up. We’ve met such cases before. You’d better have a careful consideration before making the decision.” The doctor’s words made me so agitated that I didn’t know what choice I should make. Yet after a while, I thought: “The patient who is less injured still remains unconscious despite all the treatment, and needs to be transferred to another hospital. My husband, however, under the protection of God, has woken up and is still alive. Isn’t this God’s wonderful deeds?” At the thought of this, I no longer hesitated, and signed the guarantee while quietly praying to God, “Oh God, I believe that my husband’s life and death are determined by You, not the doctors. I sincerely rely on and look to You.”

My husband’s operation went very smoothly, which was a weight off my mind. Seeing my husband out of danger, the doctors all said this was a miracle, while I clearly knew that all of this was due to God’s blessing. However, my husband lost his memory after the surgery. He even didn’t remember me and often threw a tantrum like a baby. This made me distressed and worried. The doctor said, “It’s hard to say whether he’s able to get his memory back. When he becomes better, you may take him to the rehabilitation center.” In those days, I was brooding over this thing, and couldn’t eat or sleep. As I was at my wits’ end, a passage of God’s words sprang to my mind: “Which is to say, where a person goes after they die and are reincarnated, whether they are male or female, what their mission is, what they will go through in life, their setbacks, what blessings they enjoy, who they will meet, what will happen to them—no one can predict this, avoid it, or hide from it. Which is to say, after your life has been set, in what happens to you, however you try and avoid it, by whatever means you try and avoid it, you have no way of violating the life course set out for you by God in the spiritual world.” From God’s words, I understood this: “None of us can predict what we will go through in our life. Whether it is affliction or blessing, they are both a good chance for us to mature in life. In those miserable days, I’ve learned how to rely on God and look to God, and how to hand over my difficulties to God and obey His arrangement. In desperation, through pondering God’s words, I obtained some true knowledge of His authority. More importantly, I’ve personally tasted God’s love. He was with me all the time; every time I needed assistance, He would guide me to overcome those difficulties in time. But for God’s guidance, I would have lived in misery. If I hadn’t experienced those environments, I would never have true knowledge about God, and my knowledge of His authority would forever be doctrines.” Having realized this, I thanked God from the bottom of my heart for His reinforcing my shortcomings and supplying my life with these environments. I resolved to rely on God to walk the way ahead, and I believed He would guide me by my side.

After staying in the city hospital for 21 days, my husband was transferred to another hospital. In his recovery, I prayed to God every day, taught him how to speak, and helped him recover his memory. To my surprise, he gradually learned how to control his temper and remembered some relatives. Seeing him getting better and better day by day, I was overwhelmed with joy. Even his doctor felt amazed, saying, “How incredible! I can’t believe that he’s made such a quick recovery. This is indeed a miracle! The patient in the next room also had a car accident like your husband, but he has been in a coma for half a year after the surgery. It’s hard to say whether or not he could make it. You are really so lucky.” Hearing these words, I continuously thanked God in my heart.

After being discharged from the hospital, my husband recovered more quickly than before. He was able to walk with crutches and basically recovered his memory. One day, I told him what happened when he was in hospital, how I relied on God, and how God guided me through those dark days. He was moved to tears, saying, “Once I make a full recovery, I’ll share my experiences with others so that they can know God’s wonderful deeds.” Hearing what he said, I continuously offered thanks to God.

Through this special experience, I truly saw God’s miraculous deeds and appreciated this: God is the Lord of all things; He indeed commands the life and death of everyone; His authority and power are beyond any created or non-created being. As God’s words say, “Man’s life originates from God, the existence of the heaven is because of God, and the existence of the earth stems from the power of God’s life. No object possessed of vitality can transcend the sovereignty of God, and no thing with vigor can break away from the ambit of God’s authority. In this way, regardless of who they are, everyone must submit under the dominion of God, everyone must live under God’s command, and no one can escape from His control.”

[goodlucktai]

If the Creek Don’t Rise (3/3)

‘verse: Mostly IDW, some elements of 2k12

Pairings: Rasey, Woody/Mikey, Ramona (past)—and a few more may be implied down the road, we’ll see brief mentions of Leosagi.

Summary: In which Raphael and Michelangelo are UCLA students and bring some friends home to South Dakota for Thanksgiving, where Donatello plays matchmaker, Casey becomes a horticulture enthusiast, Woody has great taste in art, and Raphael fakes an engagement.

Notes: This is an AU I started writing for @tmntflashfic’s first theme ‘beginnings.’ It’s very loosely based off the old Pauly Shore movie “Son in Law,” and I’ll thank y'all not to judge me for that. <3 This AU is not to be taken seriously, so please don’t take it too seriously. It got longer than I anticipated, so I cut it into three parts.

Titled after something my nana always says, “If the lord’s willing and the creek don’t rise,” which just means that as long as nothing unexpected happens, everything will go to plan.

THE FINAL PART IS FINALLY HERE

(Story tag)

Raphael was one-hundred and fifty percent certain his life was over.

His brothers kept throwing him bewildered looks, staring between him and Casey as though trying to form a connection that wasn't there. Going over what they knew in a new light, and drawing lines between every interaction they had seen so far and the bombshell Casey dropped on essentially the entire town, and wrapping their minds around the idea of Raph and Casey actually being Raph And Casey.

“I need some air,” Raph said abruptly over Leo's fourth attempt to draw him into conversation, standing up so sharply that he bashed his knee into the tabletop and rattled the glassware. “Shi – shoot. Sorry. Jones, you wanna come with me? For some air?”

“Dude, the food’ll be here soon.”

Raph's murderous intent probably showed on his face, because Mikey stood up a second later. “I'll go with you guys.”

“Oh, god, please don't leave me here,” Woody said very quietly, scrambling out of his chair to follow them.

Which is how Raph found himself pacing the parking in the warm country night air, hands folded into tight fists at his side. Woody and Mikey were sharing a cement parking block, sitting with their knees folded up by their chins and watching Raph's back-and-forth march with solemn eyes. Casey was leaned against the wall without a care in the world, and it made Raph want to grab him by the shirt and shake him.

“That was your move?” he bit out. “Faking an engagement? Jesus Christ, Jones!”

“Hey, I didn't see any of you comin' up with any brilliant ideas,” he shot back with a scowl. “And it ain't like I had days to think it over!”

“C'mon, Raphie, it's not Casey's fault,” Mikey interjected before Raph could give voice to any one of numerous scathing retorts. He looked pale and worried for him, face a wash of tired yellow from the buzzing streetlight overhead. “We were all pretty much put on the spot back there. At least the thing with Lisa is taken care of.”

“Okay, but this is – ”

“A lot better,” Woody said calmly. When Raph cut a glance at him, he added, “You're in complete control of the situation now. When we get back to your place, we'll explain the whole thing. Just play it cool through dinner, alright?”

“Yeah!” Mikey piped up, looking exhaustively relieved. He tilted a shining look Woody's way. “There's nothing to worry about, bro, we'll sort this out first thing once we're home.”

Except that the first thing that happened once they got home was Leo, successfully cornering Raph alone on the back porch. Woody shot him a sympathetic glance over Leo's shoulder but ultimately abandoned him to his older brother's mercies in favor of following Mikey around like a second shadow. Goddammit.

“Dude,” Raph headed him off, “it's been a night, okay, just – ”

“Look, I know you don't want to talk about it,” Leo said with a firm hand on Raph's arm, curtailing his attempts to get the hell out of dodge. But it was less that and more the earnest look in his wide almond eyes that kept Raph's feet rooted reluctantly to the floor. “I know that you probably had planned to tell us the news while we were together for the holidays, and I'm really sorry Elizaveta made it necessary for you to announce your engagement the way you did.”

Raph wanted to sink through the floor and disappear for maybe the rest of his life. Hoarsely, he said, “Leo, that's not – ”

“Just hear me out,” his big brother insisted, and somehow his expression only got more sincere. “I've – been texting you a lot recently about a guy I met on campus. Usagi. Remember?”

Raphael hazarded a nod, and shifted so that Leo's grip on his wrist was less of a grab and more of a hold. Leo nodded back, as though he needed the encouragement, and took a deep breath.

“I like him,” he blurted, cheeks coloring. “I like him a lot.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Oh,” Raph said, eyes huge in his face. Leo was still nodding, looking equal parts panicked to have said it out loud and relieved to part with the confession. He was staring at Raph like Raph had all the power to destroy him with a single word or harsh look, and Raph found he didn't care for that shit at all. “Look, man, that's – whatever, you know? You didn't really think we'd care, did you?”

“I don't know,” Leo said quietly, letting go of Raph's arm. “I mean – I told myself I was being stupid, but – ”

Raph could feel himself start to frown thunderously at the idea that Leo could tote around the ridiculous concept that his family's love for him was  conditional. And maybe it was a little hypocritical, since the same quiet worries had circled Raph's head, too, back when he was first irreparably charmed by the most obnoxious roommate in the history of UCLA – but at the same time, it was different. It was Leo.

“Hell yeah, you were being stupid. Look, as long as he's a good guy, as long as he doesn't – ” He thought of Bradford and the end of Mikey's sophomore year and abruptly saw red. Thought of the man Leo had his eye on doing anything similar, and his fists clenched so hard it hurt. “ – hurt you, y'know, in whatever way, then it don't matter. Not a lick. And our brothers and dad and Uncle L will all tell you the same thing. You know they will.”

There was a sheen to Leo's eyes that looked like it might be tears, but he chuckled warmly. Rubbed his face with the sleeve of his shirt and hitched up a smile so wide it probably could have left a permanent impression.

“Well – that's why I wanted to talk to you,” he said. “To say thanks.”

Something close to dread pooled in the pit of Raph's stomach. “Thanks?”

“Yeah. I was scared, but you made it less scary. You've always been so much braver than me.”

Fearless Leo's eyes shone for a split second before he moved forward a swift step and tugged Raph into a solid hug. They were about the same height, Raph realized dimly, and wondered when that had happened. It was autopilot to put his arms around Leo in turn, and he only got squeezed tighter for his troubles.

“I’m going to talk to father before I go back to school. Thanks, Raph, really.”

Raph closed his eyes, and allowed himself an inward and heartfelt, Fuck.

"There is no fucking way we can call it off now,” Raph said, waving his hands wildly. “No fucking way.”

He had called an Immediate Emergency Meeting, which was why they were all clustered in the back shed, AKA Mikey’s childhood art studio. The overhead light was still swinging from the fifth time Casey had smashed his head into it, and subsequently Casey was rubbing his forehead and cussing under his breath.

Similarly, Woody was only half-listening; eyes roving the room like he was trying to commit ever inch of the dust-covered space to memory, lingering on old painted canvases and listing sculptures like there was treasure to be found among them.

Raph had Mikey’s full attention at least. His little brother was perched on the workbench, watching him with wide, worried hazel eyes.

“Well,” he said slowly, “it’s still okay. We’ll just ride this thing out, y’know? I mean, we’re only gonna be here for the rest of the week, right? And then when we go back to school everything will go back to normal, you can call and say the two of you broke it off or something. Right?”

“I -- yeah, I mean.” Raph ran an agitated hand through his hair, forcing himself to calm down. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

Mikey beamed at him, tension easing out of his shoulders. Raph was unspeakably grateful, for the millionth time in his life, that he could always count on having Mikey on his team. Things never seemed as bad with him around.

“So you and Case just gotta act couple-y until then! No problem!”

Casey snorted, and Woody whipped around with a delighted expression. “’No problem’? Mikester.”

“What? What’d I say?”

Raph prayed that the shitty lighting in Mikey’s shed would be enough to hide the way his face turned red. From the coy look on his little brother’s face, and the amused look on Woody’s, he knew that was probably a fool’s hope.

Casey was still rubbing his forehead but he was watching Raph closely now, with something measured and thoughtful in his eyes.

Later, in the relentless quiet of Raph’s bedroom, the scattered feet between his bed and Casey’s cot seemed to stretch into miles. It was nothing like their first night there -- nothing like every night for the past few months in their dorm room at school -- when they could stay up and talk about anything, cradled safely in the dark as they learned to navigate each other’s pitfalls.

It was uncomfortable. The learned familiarity was gone. Raph was grasping for it at the corners.

Casey’s cot creaked as he rolled over, and his voice drifted through the space between them cautiously.

“Raph? You awake?”

With the blanket pulled up around his ears, Raphael pretended not to be.

Raph went slinking out of the house early the next morning. He waved to Uncle L when he passed him in the kitchen, put together a quick breakfast of leftovers out of the fridge, and crept out the side door into the yard while the sky was still more dark than light.

Father would have started the chores already. Raph wouldn’t see him until lunch. He wanted to talk -- it’s obvious he wanted to talk -- but he had always given his kids the whole of his faith, and probably trusted Raph to come and find him on his own when he was ready.

Fat chance of that.

Hiding in the horse barn, Raphael leaned against the wall and put his head in his hands and tried very hard not to lose his collective shit.

If the thing with Lisa wasn’t bad enough, now he’s fake dating a guy he wants to actually date, and it’s fake going really well, apparently, because they’re fake planning to get married.

He suckered himself into this situation in the first place, inviting Casey along for the visit home, but the kicker is he can’t even really bring himself to regret it. Not when the alternative would have been Casey on his own back in California.

He’s had a good time, Raph thought, and didn’t want to take a moment of it back.

“Yo,” Casey said abruptly, drawing Raph’s head up sharply. His sleep-touseled friend was in the wide doorway of the barn, looking distinctly unimpressed with him and the world and wakefulness in general. “Are you seriously avoiding me? Weak as hell, man.”

Raph could only stare at him, trying to find his footing in this conversation he was desperately unprepared for. Casey took pity on him after a moment and gestured over his shoulder.

“My buddy showed me where you were. I named her Chompy by the way, on account of the hole she chewed into my shirt the other day.”

Raph followed his hand to the fence opposite the barn, where the newest addition to the family sheep was gazing dolefully at them through the gap in the wooden posts. He blinked, and looked back at Casey, and said, “You can’t name Mikey’s sheep Chompy. That’s a stupid name.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re all named after like, artists and shit. Okay, fine in keeping with family tradition, she can be Chompy Picasso.”

“No. Just -- no. I’m gonna. Hold on.”

He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and sent a text to Mikey; who was probably still up at ass o’clock in the morning after having not gone to bed in the first place in favor of a sci-fi movie marathon with Don and Woody.

Sure enough, Raph got a reply almost immediately.

To: Mike case is tryin to name ur lamb chompy picasso

From: Mike !!!! thats the best name EVER tell him thx omfg

“Okay, well, it’s official,” he said, pocketing his phone again. “I don’t know any of you. You’re all total strangers. Get out of my house.”

“Pfft. That makes this engagement a little weird, don’t it?”

Raph didn’t flinch, but it was a close call, and he jerked his eyes away to stare at the wall, and then the ground. He didn’t want to talk about, didn’t know why he thought he could avoid it, wanted for there to be a way to go back and face Lisa from the beginning the way he should’ve -- the way she deserved -- instead of hiding from the situation like a coward.

He should have --

“Raph,” Casey barked, “stop freaking out, Jesus Christ!” His tone was sharp, but mostly without anger, and the steps forward he took were hurried. “I’ll slap you in the face to snap you out of it like in every bad Lifetime movie you’ve ever seen, don’t even try me.”

“You don’t watch Lifetime movies.”

“Fuck you, you don’t know what I watch.” Casey punched him in the shoulder, just hard enough to leave a residual ache there after his fist fell away. “And I don’t know what bullshit is running through your head right now, but we’re fine. This whole thing was my fault, and I’ll deal with it. So quit acting like the world’s comin’ to an end, you moron.”

Raph risked a glance up at him, disbelieving. Casey looked ready to throw another punch, agitated in a restless way that spoke more of worry than anything else.

And Raph felt like a moron.

“Fuck. Case, look -- “

But they were both interrupted by the dark head of a dapple grey stallion as it leaned over the door of its stall to see what all the commotion was about. It flicked an ear and shook out its mane before craning a long neck over to inspect Casey curiously.

“Holy shit,” Casey said, completely side-tracked as he stared at the approaching horse with wide eyes. “There’s a monster in your barn.”

“This is Spike.” Raph patted him fondly. “He’s nosy.”

“Yeah, I’ll say.” Casey put out his hands cautiously, and Spike leaned his nose into the cradle of his palms, snuffling wetly around for treats. “Ew,” Casey added, delighted.

Raph watched them for a minute, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“So,” he ventured, “we’re good?”

“Yeah, man. We’re good. Unless you keep acting like an idiot, goddamn.”

Spike lipped at the hem of Casey's shirt affectionately. Casey squawked, and Raph's heart did a complicated flip in his chest.

Raph's brothers, and his father, and his uncle all approved of Jones, whether the knew the full truth about the situation or not—but it was something else, something important, that his horse approved of him, too.

Fake dating, he reminded himself viciously, knowing already that the reminder wouldn’t stick.

The day before Thanksgiving, there was a big dance hosted at the rec center for the young adult crowd. The six of them took Uncle L’s truck, tired of being cooped up at the farm, and if the drinks provided weren’t spiked Raph would spike them his damn self.

“You see Lisa anywhere?” he asked, leaning against the wall next to Casey with a cup of warm punch.

“Am I s’posed to be lookin’ for her?”

“I owe her an explanation."

“You don’t owe anybody shit, bro, but I’ll keep an eye out.”

On Raph’s other side, Donnie straightened so abruptly that it got Casey, Raph and Leo’s -- from the other side of the refreshments table -- attention all at once. And before any of them had a chance to so much as open their mouths, he was pushing off the wall and striding through the crowd with vicious intent, looking ready to steamroll any number of people out of his way.

“What the heck,” Leo said, frowning. He was searching the room for the source of Donnie’s sudden beeline, and found it moments before Raph did.

Something ice-cold and toothed reared its ugly head in the pit of Raph’s chest at the sight of Bradford dragging his little brother out the back door. With a bitter taste in the back of his throat, he dropped his cup and shoved his way across the dance floor after Leo.

The back was for deliveries, with a wide gravel drive and a small storage shed. It was much quieter and darker out there, where the lights and the music and the dull roar of conversation from the party they had left behind were distant and muted.

Donnie was boxed in the doorway, frozen, with a hand over his mouth. Leo all but picked him up and moved him out of the way, face dark with furious fear, but after a second to take in the scene, he was motionless, too.

“What the fuck,” Raph blustered, shoving past, “move, don’t just -- “

“Holy shit,” Casey said from behind him. 

Bradford was crumpled on the ground, a bloody hand trembling over his broken nose. His lettermen’s jacket was stained with it, his cronies standing well back, and Woody was lowering his hands as Raph put the pieces of the scene together into a cohesive picture. 

Holy shit was right. 

“Keep your hands to yourself,” Woody said mildly, eyes cold as he looked Bradford over. “I really don’t want to have to tell you again.”

He looked like he really wanted to have to tell him again.

Reaching out without looking away from Bradford for a second, Woody gathered Mikey up under his arm, curling the smaller blond in tight against his side. Mikey’s eyes were wide but it was wonder in his face, and the beginnings of delight, and any shadow of that awful misery from moments earlier was burned completely away.

“Dude,” he whispered adoringly, “You’re a ninja.”

Woody’s icy expression gentled for him, almost absurdly, and if Raph looked to his left he’d see Donnie looking smug as shit at having been right about something no one else could have guessed from the very beginning, again. “Something like that. My aunt’s an MMA fighter. She taught me a lot. I took lessons for a few years, too.”

“Holy cats! Woody! That’s, like, maximum rad!” 

Grinning down at him, Woody said, “Anyway, weren’t we about to go dance?”

With a gasp, Mikey snatched up his hand and tugged him back toward the door. He looked surprised to see his brothers there, but he greeted them with a smile that didn’t shake, and Donnie touched Woody’s arm for a moment of exhaustive, wordless thanks. 

Woody shook his head with a stubborn glint in his eye, squeezing Mikey’s hand tighter. 

“Message received,” Leo said with a grin, and Raph watched Donnie take a mean delight in locking the back door behind them when they returned to the party. Not that he was worried about Bradford showing his ugly face anywhere near Mikey again anytime soon. He owed Woody a drink or ten for that. 

“Dude,” Casey said, “what the hell is up with that guy? Why’s he got it in for Mike?”

There was a wet floor sign and a disgruntled janitor cleaning up the spilled drinks Raph and his brothers left behind earlier. Raph went in search of a new spot to stand in.

“You know the movie Carrie?”

“Sure.”

“Same deal. Except instead of pig blood there at the end, Bradford got him up on stage in the middle of the homecoming dance and outed him in front of god and everybody.”

“Jesus fuck.”

“I got suspended that night for two weeks for beating the shit out of Bradford, but dad gave the principal so much hell she brought it down to one.” Glancing sidelong at Casey, Raph added, “Mikey got bullied after that, bad. Not for long, I mean, he doesn’t have three big brothers for nothing. But it left a mark on him, y’know, it really did some damage.”

“You think Woody knew?”

“I dunno. I didn’t tell him. And Mikey doesn’t talk about it. Anyway, I don’t think it matters. Anyone who looks at Mikey cross-eyed is gonna have fuckin’ Bruce Lee to deal with, and I’m more than fine with that.”

It wasn’t hard to find them on the dance floor, swinging each other around wildly and laughing louder than the band could play. The Mikey of two years ago wouldn’t recognize himself if he could see it, Raph thought. Dancing close with another boy in front of their whole small-minded town like there wasn’t a single goddamn thing to be ashamed of.

That night, warm with the alcohol they picked up on the way home and groggy, Raph fell into bed with his clothes on. Barely a minute later, hands were shoving at his chest and shoulder, and Casey was muttering, “Scoot over, dude, I’m not sleeping on that fucking thing anymore.” 

At three a.m. it made sense, and Raph rolled over to make room for him.

A rooster call woke him up scant hours later, and he blinked painfully through a hangover into the weak sunlight beginning to poke its fingers through the windows of his bedroom. 

His arm was slung over Casey’s waist. Casey was drooling on his shoulder. His head hurt too much to process either of those things.

“Yer thinkin’ too loud,” Casey muttered softly, the words wincing and whispered. “Too hungover for that shit.”

“Case -- “

“I swear to god -- “ 

“No, listen,” Raph was saying stupidly. “I don’t want to fake date you. It’s driving me insane, I don’t want to do it anymore. So that’s why we should -- “

With a soft cuss, Casey jerked upright. Raph had exactly one second to worry before his roommate was clambering on top of him, straddling his waist with a twisted comforter between them and leaning down with tangled hair and blurry eyes to kiss Raph quiet. 

It worked like a charm -- Raph shut right up. Casey kissed him for a lot longer anyway. Relentless, like there was something to make up for. Whatever it was, Raph was happy to give it, digging his fingers into his grip on Casey’s arms, keeping him as close as he could until the last possible moment.

To: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX sorry abt dinner the other night. sorry about a lot of stuff.

From: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX Forgiven. 

To: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX next time i visit ill make it up to you. promise

From: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX You will do no such thing. Next time, I will make it up to /you/. I owe you that much. 

From: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX And I hope you’ll introduce me to your fiance. I would like to meet him. 

Contact saved as “Mona Lisa.”

“What are you smilin’ about?” Casey mumbled without lifting his head, word salad all but lost against Raph’s collarbone. 

“How do you know I’m smiling, you creep?”

“C’n just tell. What’s up?” 

Raph set his phone aside, and pushed a hand through Casey’s hair. 

“Wanna come home with me again for Christmas?”

“Pretty sure I have a standing invitation from your entire family to crash all your holiday get-togethers, loser.�� He slung an arm across Raph’s waist and yawned. “Welcome to the married life. No getting rid of me now.”

“We aren’t married, dumbass.” 

“Fuck you, go back to sleep.”

The two of them in one bed was a tight fit, but the cot was all the way across the room, they were still existing on the tender plane of the very barely not hungover anymore, and it seemed like a waste to sleep so far apart anyway.

On Thanksgiving Day, three things happen:

Mikey fucking outdoes himself, to literally no one’s surprise, and the food is fantastic. He and Woody hold hands through most of the meal, and Raph and Donnie share a wry look when father surreptitiously passes Leatherhead, who has better lighting from his side of the table, the digital camera. 

Leo comes out to the rest of the family, and it goes more or less exactly the way Raph thought it would. Leo's face is a pleased pink as he swipes through his phone at Mikey’s tireless demands for pictures of Usagi.

Raph clears his throat halfway through dessert and manages to meet his father’s eyes when he says, “There’s something I need to tell all of you. About the, uh. Engagement. See, we were -- Case and I, we were never really -- “

“ -- sure about the wedding date,” Casey cuts in smoothly, claiming a third slice of pumpkin pie. “We figured we’d put things on hold, you know, till we’re done with school, at least. No sense rushing in, right?”

Mikey and Woody are grinning across the table at him. Casey is grinning around a mouthful of pie. Raph throws his last vestiges of caution to the wind and grins right back. 

[stormears]

Naruto Meme

Nobody tagged me for this. I do what I want. 

-

F A V O R I T E

Female Character - Sakura Haruno.

Male Character - Kakashi, Gaara, Sasori or Madara. 

Team - Team Kakashi. Or New Team Kakashi, since that version doesn’t have Sasuke in it. 

Sensei - Kakashi

Hokage - Tobirama.

Kage - Tobirama! Gaara is a close second. 

Village - I guess Konoha since most of my favorites are from there and it has pleasant and predictable sunny spring weather 95% of the year. 

Akatsuki Member - Sasori has been my fave for years, but I also really love Kakuzu. I have a Kakuzu rubber strap thing on my keys. 

Episode/Chapter -  Shippuden episodes 25 and 26, these are the well-animated Sasori vs Sakura episodes that highlighted one of Sakura’s best accomplishments across the whole story. I also liked that two-minute sequence in 322 where Edo Tensei’d Madara decimates the Shinobi Army. There’s a two-second shot in it of a female soldier holding a cross to her face and praying before the fight begins, which I think is one of the absolute best visual reminders that people are terrified of Madara. It had a much stronger impact than the endless power gimmicks or characters’ repeated poorly scripted exclamations of “wow he/this technique is so powerful.” 

Fight Scene - Sakura vs Sasori! Or Kakashi vs Hidan and Kakuzu. 

Fanfiction -  I love so many fanfictions. I’ve been creepily attached to fanfictions since I was 12. If I had to pick a favorite I gueeeess I’d go with He Had No Fingers by Gleam. Kyuubi is a monstrous, conscious-less god whose influence eats away at child Naruto easily. He takes over Naruto and then Konoha and the world is next. Made me woozy reading it the first time, I’ll never forget. 

Story Arc - Rescue Gaara Arc, I guess, but I don’t enjoy whole arcs as much as I do small, separate moments or scenes or even just manga pages in the story. 

Filler - Aren’t the movies filler? I kind of enjoy the third movie where Lee, Naruto, Sakura and Kakashi act as bodyguards for a fat, lazy prince, his son, and the son’s saber-toothed circus tiger. 

What is your…

OTP (explain why) - I’m a crackshipping freak who builds 30k+ long stories and worlds to support romantic scenes of my weird ships, don’t ask me this. 

NoTP (without being a dick, explain why) - I do not like like Sasuke or Karin, and seeing them romantically together is not any improvement to me. I think that Sasuke never went through emotional growth or recovery and only changed his loyalties near the end of the war because Kishimoto was desperate, overworked, and weakly reaching for finish line, and many characters and story events reflected that reality. I waited years’ worth of manga chapters and episodes for him to change and by the time he did, I was long past buying it. Karin was a screechy, annoying brat from Day 1 and never improved her attitude or personality, but I didn’t enjoy seeing her used as a meat shield by Danzo, either. In short, two bad characters don’t make a good pairing. 

Crackship/s - My worst and favorite offenses are probably SasoSaku, since 2007-ish and MadaSaku since 2010. 

BroTP - This is barely present in my writing, but, kinda, Ino and Sakura. Maybe Kakuzu and Konan. 

OT3 - I don’t know what this means besides 3 characters I want to see having an orgy or engaged in a polygamous relationship? I guess I could be coerced into reading/liking those but there’s none in particular that I like consistently or remember offhand.

Crossover ship - I don’t crossover ship. Not opposed to it, the examples I’ve seen talked about briefly on tumblr (mostly in anime confession blogs) are intriguing, but I don’t have a ship like this myself. 

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

Do you have any headcanons? All sorts of assorted things. Ino’s mom is a civilian. Itachi WISHES he was a civilian or could retire and live a peaceful domestic life. Shino likes art and would read art/art criticism magazines if Naruto-land has those, and could be friends with Sai. Kisame loves boardgames and is a good sportsman in any game or sport he plays. Sakura likes to read non-fiction/informational books more than novels. Tenten loves horses. Kiba is really close to his sister but doesn’t want people outside the family knowing that because he’s scared other guys will make fun of him. Civilian children stay in school till roughly age 16, compared to the Ninja Academy graduating age of 12. 

Are you happy with the ending? Would you have done things differently? I’m not happy with it, but I’m also not invested in it enough to really care. It was always the characters, not the story, that drew me into Naruto (maybe just the basic skeletons of the characters at that, skeletons I could build onto and “fix” in fanfiction). To “do things differently” I would fix a lot more than the ending, though if I could erase ONE thing from the ending it would be the sudden prevalence of modern-day technology like skyscrapers, laptops and handheld video games. 

How do you feel about the Next Generation? Shrug. Boruto and Himawari are cute and remind me of me and my big brother a bit. I kinda liked the first few weeks of the manga’s ending, when there was still confusion about whether to call him Boruto or “Bolt,” because I was rooting for Bolt.  

Say something about your favorite character. Sakura Haruno had huge expanses of room for improvement in her ninjutsu, tactics, and respect given to her by other characters and by viewers and all of this was squandered by an author who had many other, bigger problems to deal with and was probably indifferent to her at best. She is safer in the hands of fans, of artists and writers, who treat her better and create better content about her than her creator did. She has been adopted by several thousand loving moms and a few dads and will be well cared for. 

What would a child between your OTP look like? Going for my crackships here again. SaoSaku child has red hair, but Sakura’s face and her mom’s outspoken attitude and a talent for musical instruments. MadaSaku child, lord, I don’t know. I like to think the pink or at least reddish hair would prevail but all laws of the universe say Uchiha black hair always wins. The child would, at least, have the thickest and most gorgeous head of hair in town. 

Say something genuinely nice about your NoTP.  Some people out there really like it, and it and content about it makes them happy in the way that my favorite ships make me happy, and that’s good stuff. Glad for them. 

Say something negative about your OTP. They’re groundless nonsense pairings that I would be embarrassed to ever acknowledge outside my tiny internet circles and both the men involved in those two pairings are canonically horrible people who ought to be stabbed.

Is there any way you could be convinced to ship your NoTP? I would need a fanfic, 5k+ length minimum, but I could go up to 20k, allowing time and space for them to calm down and recover from their respective traumas and get over their respective dumb bitch attitudes, and then slowly build a friendship that becomes a romance, ideally with a storyline and theme and a writing style that I could get behind. Not to mention the time of day to read a doorstop novella like that. 

What makes you mad about the series? The War Arc’s need to make every important character as powerful as possible crushed any sense of threat or disbelief. The constant upping of the stakes was annoying and came off as desperate (though I strongly believe that behind it was an overworked zombie Kishimoto mindlessly trying to fill that week’s page quota and wondering if he would ever have an actual life again).

If you could see anything happen in the series, what would it be? The final arc is the Akatsuki invading Konoha with the intention of kinapping/killing Naruto, but the entire village has rallied and is prepared to fight. The story cuts between three or four fights between Akatsuki and Konoha ninja till all Akatsuki are defeated. Maybe reveal Madara as the secret leader of the Akatsuki and defeat him here, too. During the conflict, Naruto has proven himself for the final time, is adored by the village, crowned Hokage within a year or so, happy ending. Pairings left undetermined or hinted at vaguely. Fin. (Other possible ending at bottom of post)

What would you say to Kishimoto if given the chance? I’m so sorry for the hardship and stress you endured all these years, all that time away from your family. I still have to thank you for all the joy your story brought to me. It allowed me to get closer to my friends, make new friends, even start to tap into my own writing ability. You did all that for me without even knowing it. I’ll always be grateful to you! 

In your opinion…

Most attractive male? Sometimes I think it’s Madara, and sometimes I’ll see some screenshot of a poorly animated episode and think he looks awful and I’m embarrassed that ever liked him. Sasori has this unjustly beautiful face that I love but definitely a few shots in is episodes where he looks kinda...off. Kakashi’s pretty unarguably attractive, though, so he’s a safe bet for most attractive. 

Most attractive female? Lol depends on the fanartist, I’ve seen gorgeous art for almost all female characters. In the manga or anime, I don’t really find any of them attractive. 

Most overestimated? Plenty, especially given the war arc. Sasuke or Itachi? At least years ago when I actually followed forums and manga review blogs (not on tumblr) there seemed to be a consensus that Sasuke could do anything, by kicking up enough notches on his Susano’o, and later some said that for Itachi, and then Madara showed up and could rarely be actually overestimated, and then Kaguya was a literal god and, ugh...

Not appreciated enough? Tobirama! 

What is the greatest thing about Naruto? It’s brought me a lot of personal happiness.

The worst? How the quality of its writing drifted from “meh” to “ugh” over the years. 

The saddest moment? There’s a few pages in the manga that show Naruto slowly gaining more friends as he gets older while Gaara stays alone in a space of empty desert that gets wider and wider as he goes to his knees. A strong and painful reminder that while one person may be smiling and enjoying life, simultaneously another is being strangled by the crushing misery of their own life. I’m so glad for Gaara finally fixing himself and finding real happiness. He’s the character who went through the best development and most change in the story, bar none. 

The most defining? The Chuunin Exam Arc is what most people remember, in my experience. But to me the first opening song of Shippuden “defines” it in my mind. 

Rant about anything…

GO! I never once imagined that this could happen in canon/reality, but I think the greatest way to end the story would be for Naruto himself to have to kill Sasuke. This would hammer in a message to the story that I think it could really use: despite Naruto’s hopes and good intentions, despite all his hard work, he cannot save everyone. And it would give a real sense of consequence. I never once felt that the main cast was in danger from all the fireballs, summoning animals, 10-ton rocks that hit them in the fucking face and never left more than a light scratch or dust mark on their steroid Hercules bodies. Even in a war the likes of which Ninjaland has never seen, bringing more and more godlike charcters together whose powers could end thousands of people in seconds, Neji seems to be the only notable casualty (lol bye Neji) and for all the good guys to make it out of such a conflict alive and well is absolute horseshit and not worthwhile storytelling of a war. Somebody important has to lose a battle, or lose someone they love, or lose a limb, something! Let me believe that any of these fights matter! Let me really feel that this conflict, this battlefield is dangerous and people are scared for their lives and hurt but fighting anyway, let me see something besides this gross, hollow shonen movie poster of good guys overcoming bad just by virtue of being good guys with dumbshit magic powers that the author-god gave them for free. Let me take these characters and put them in the hands of some fanfic writers who could write better fights than these in their sleep. Let me read fanfic instead. 

[sparda3g]

Kingdom Chapter 598 Review

This is the endgame; for this very day I mean. Chougaryuu had a memory trip about his beloved lord, Rinshoujo, sharing the dream he won’t be alive to see it becoming a reality. Chougaryuu can make it happen, but he must take the Unification Sword from Shin at all cost. Winner takes the path to supremacy. I still have chills from this incredibly thrilling chapter.

With all the build-ups and backstories to raise the stakes for this one battle, it really feels like the decisive fate of the war. Whoever wins, their respective state will win. There’s still a lot of obstacles for Qin to face, even if Shin survives; however, a win can draw a huge news to the mass. Momentum can rise significantly if Shin proves there’s a fighting chance. Other is self-explanatory. What also made this battle heavy is the two characters involved. We knew Shin’s reason and driving force, and recently, we learned Chougaryuu’s. Both shared a similar stance, but only one can be victorious. In short, it’s pure hype.

The chapter didn’t resume the battle right away, rather increase the tension. Elsewhere, Bananji is easily dominating the field. So many dismembered limbs flying, all bloody mess; it’s a good thing he’s not with Chougaryuu. But who is he with instead is my man, Akakin. I was a bit bummed that he couldn’t grasp that kill, but fighting him is still good enough. By the way, Ben Brothers were decapitated during the clash. What’s up with Hara and his love of killing brothers? Okay, that’s not true, but how many brothers have fallen so far in this arc? Don’t kill any of those archer brothers now, you hear?

Bananji is not your typical villainous guy who is easily distracted. He’s already aware of the situation, so he begins to move out to assist Chougaryuu and take Shin’s head. This is obviously alarming since one man extra can change everything. Even if Shin wins, if he were to arrive immediately after, Hi Shin Unit has to retreat at all cost; unless they have unlimited stamina, which they don’t. Akakin may be smiling, but even he knows time is running out.

Banyou and Gyoku Hou Unit are still holding their fort against Gyou’un Army. Clearly, I underestimated that old man. It won’t be long though since their defense is wearing thin. Ten and Hi Shin’s HQ is about to be under attack by Bananji Army. They either wait to die or escape and abandon HQ at once. The time limit has more stakes to lose. On the plus side, the death flag for Gyoku Hou Unit was lowered; on the negative side, Hi Shin Unit’s has increased. Everyone is eyeing for them to kill, breaking Qin’s Right Wing for good. It all lies on Shin now. What a tension, and that leads to the epic grudge match.

The fight is on. Their surroundings tried to intervene, but Kyou Kai isn’t letting them. Her body is still nowhere near her prime status, so she is taken down easily. That sentence should not be said ever again. Don’t fear, the chapter’s cover doesn’t mean she will die, but time is running out. The Unit can’t defend any longer. I did think at one point, someone else will die. I like how a small moment can feel so huge with Denei watching everything slowly fall apart, including Shin losing the clashes, so he cries for him to win. That feeling from losing Shousa remains strong and so as the passion to cheer for retribution.

I really like how the battle continues to flesh out the two characters with similar purpose, rather making Chougaryuu a complete villain. You can understand his pride and hopefulness from not just the last chapter, but since his introduction. It’s just that we are not here to cheer for him. Even so, he has the making of a hero protagonist, carrying the lives who passed away before him, Rinshoujo included. He fights for them, fight to make the dream a reality. I can’t say a newcomer would think he’s a good guy if I were to throw the chapter at them because of his design, but they can see why he’s morally grey. In a sense, he’s a hero in his own story.

As for Shin, he’s the protagonist through and through. When he was overwhelmed, he takes a bad beating, but never fall. It was a bit scary that he almost did, I’ll say that much. Much like Chougaryuu’s life, he too has the same motivational drive to win at all cost. He too carries the lives who passed away; that includes their legacies. So many faces I remember wholeheartedly, I wanted to tear up. The live-action movie is out currently, so this is a hell of a chapter to advertise the new fans. This is the epic journey of Shin to become The Six Great Generals. God, do I feel hyped more than ever. “All it was missing was Ouki,” is what I said before changing the page. That simple page is godly. Once Ouki’s image appears behind Shin, it’s time to say goodbye.

That swing has so much force, Chougaryuu couldn’t block all the way, so he takes a bad hit. I felt the weight of that Glaive; it was dramatic. Gyou’un looks to the sky from afar; that’s a sign of an old friend about to appear above the sky. Not going to lie, I actually have a sympathy for a moment. I believe what makes the battle so intense is the weight those two carried, so every hit feels so dramatic. It’s not fast paced, but thought-provoking and emotional engaging. The two found themselves exhausted, giving a small breather to everyone before one will deliver the final blow. Shin takes that role.

His speech is simple yet impactful and inspiring. He will not fall to his enemy. He will stand as Ei Sei’s Unbreakable Sword, reminiscing to the Unification Sword Rinshoujo talked about. It’s as if Chougaryuu completed the puzzle and the image display Shin as the true bearer. By this point, it is safe to say he has accept his defeat, ready to see his lord. Shin has an epic roar cry, sending serious chills, and down goes Chougaryuu. Slash for the victory. This was awesome. While the ending is worth celebrating, it’s also somewhat sympathetic with Chougaryuu’s last message to Gyou’un. It’s now up to him. Once again, it gives that morally grey feel, but Shin has to win and it’s for the best.

This was a hell of a chapter to end before a break due to the Holiday, if I counted correctly. It had great tension leading up to the battle that had tons of hype already. It was emotionally engaging on both sides with their desire to win. Shin reminded the fans how much hell he has gone through and how much space his development has left to fill in. The art is great with sheer details. This was a perfect chapter for new fans after watching the movie. Now, it’s a great time to collect the volumes. What lies ahead should be glamorous for reactions alone. A New Era will strive and Shin will lead its path.