#im turning into a bitter old woman as we speak. I fucking hate this

[sweater-equestrian]

im gonna rant about dogs again.

there are only five options to get a dog (at least, in my area).

1) be rich. do you have a house in the country with a large fully fenced in yard? are you able to travel anywhere or ship puppies to your doorstep? can you pay over $5000 for a puppy? boy are you in luck! you will easily find a good dog from a good breeder.

2) be well connected / already active in dog sports. you will know every good breeder in the area and actually be able to trust them. you will be able to get a great dog somewhat easily, even if the wait period is long.

3) be able to jump through rescues hoops / and also be a home owner. I don’t know about yall, but as someone who lives in an apartment, most rescues won’t adopt to me. those that do only tend to have breeds of dogs my apartment does not allow. oh you wanted a certain breed? you don’t / can’t have a husky, german shepherd, cattle dog, or pit bull? haha, you’re not getting a dog. (breed rescues do exist, however again, good luck finding a dog that meets both landlords rules AND a rescue that accepts you. while you’re at it, enjoy the non refundable $50+ fee just to apply online, as well as having to submit 2-5 references)

4) have no morals / puppy mill. you can always try your luck with a petland puppy or a puppy mill! enjoy your sick $2,000 puppy who will die two weeks later though.

5) craigslist puppy / byb. genuinely the easiest way to get a dog. wont cost much, wont be health tested, but at least its not a mill. and at least the person will actually give you a dog. not ideal, but genuinely the only option for.... too many people these days.

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part III

Part I

Part II

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

After that night, it became increasingly hard for (Y/N) to leave, and for Eren to let her do so.

Something between them had changed. There were moments— when Eren would press feather-light kisses against her forehead, when he would casually leave a cup of her favorite tea where she would find it— where (Y/N) felt as though her heart might burst. It was all the little things that baffled her, all the ways in which he seemed to understand exactly how she felt; it was as though he knew her more than she knew herself. On the mornings that she would wake in his bed, sleepy and sticky and wholly content, (Y/N) wondered what it would be like to have this life forever.

Other days— on days like today— she was reminded exactly why that could never be, and it broke her heart.

Today, they had planned a romantic dinner in the park, an evening under the stars. It was supposed to be something special, a little getaway just for the two of them; they had wanted to leave as soon as (Y/N) was relieved from her patrol, so Eren had moved her things to his place, hoping that they could leave together from there for their evening alone.

In and of itself, that was fine… but when (Y/N) came in, covered head-to-toe in viscous Creature blood, Eren was furious.

“And you call me a monster,” he growled, looking her up and down with hate in his eyes. “I can’t believe you.”

He stood from his seat on the sofa, and (Y/N) began to back away, still wary from the fight she had narrowly escaped from unscathed. Her every instinct told her that she should run, fire a round of silver bullets into his chest, but she steeled herself, doing neither.

“It’s not my fault— they were attacking a civilian,” she told him as he stalked towards her, his face twisted into a horrific scowl. “I tried to stop them— tried to find out what was going on— but then they came at me with their claws, and I was left with no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” he snarled, and it was then that anger filled (Y/N) from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head. "They were probably terrified of you— how could you possibly blame them for lashing out?"

(Y/N) grit her teeth.

“This, from the man who thought genocide was his only option to the same problem?”

Eren made a low, warning sound in the back of his throat, but (Y/N) pressed on.

“You would rather me have died?” she demanded, stepping into his space. “Would it have pleased you more for my body to bleed out on the pavement, ripped to shreds by an aggressive werewolf? Would you even care, or would you just find the next blood bag and move on with your life?”

“Maybe so,” he shot back, “Then I wouldn’t have to deal with your insufferable mouth.”

That stung— but if there was one thing (Y/N) knew how to do, it was to strike back twice as hard as she had been struck.

“Fine then,” she said, turning on her heel. “I won’t bother you any longer. I’ll go out and find someone who actually wants my company, someone who’ll fuck me good and proper over the counter at some hole-in-the-wall bar over on Easy Street, someone younger, with a nicer cock and less fucking baggage— ”

She didn’t get to finish the sentence, or even walk a single step further— Eren grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to him, his fist painfully tight against her scalp.

“Wanna say that again, to my face?” he asked, tilting her head back.

“I’ll go find someone else to fuck me,” she spat, struggling in vain against him. “I’ll spread my legs for the next available schmuck in the closest bar I can find, so you can hear me scream his name and not yours.”

It was a low blow, to threaten a vampire’s claim on something they had previously assumed had belonged to them, but (Y/N) didn’t care. She had almost died today, and she’d be damned if she was going to take shit from anyone about what she had to do to survive. If Eren wanted a fight, she would damn sure give him one.

“Like hell you will,” he told her, pulling her head back so that she had to strain to remain standing. “You’re mine. Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood— you are my Companion.”

"I belong to no one!"

Those words ripped from her throat and echoed throughout the empty house, and it was then that Eren stopped, looking at her with calculation in his gaze.

"You're right," he said, releasing her hair. "No mortal can serve two masters, lest they love one and despise the other; an archaic religious concept, but an accurate one nonetheless. You've made it abundantly clear where your loyalty lies. I was a fool for thinking otherwise."

(Y/N) began to tremble. "Eren, what are you saying?"

"I release you from our pact," he replied coldly, his eyes so dull and lifeless that it sent a chill down her spine. "No longer are you bound to be my wine-press— I free you from me."

"Eren—"

"Go," he commanded, and (Y/N) felt terribly, horribly empty.

Once, he would have told her to come freely, go safely, and leave something of the happiness she brought him; now, he gave her a cold dismissal, and it frightened her more than she was willing to admit. Still, she went, feeling hollow and used, and she didn't bother to shut the door behind her as she turned to walk home, weary from the day and sick from fighting.

***

Armin had lived for a very long time, but even so, he had yet to meet anyone so foul of temper as Eren when the Hunger was on him.

"Eren, you have to feed."

The vampire, as ill in health as in temper, glared weakly at him. "I'm not hungry."

"But you are Hungry, and don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. Look, if this is about that girl—"

"I told you not to speak of her!"

Ah, so it was about her. By the looks of him, it had been two weeks since Eren had fed; Armin would bet that he hadn't seen her in the same amount of time.

"If I need to, I'll drag her here to make up with you myself," said Armin testily, "I refuse to watch my best friend starve himself because he refuses to feed on anyone else."

"You will not touch her."

Armin rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything further. He just patted Eren's arm in farewell and set about finding the little lady who was the root cause of his current consternation.

It took longer than Armin had anticipated to find the young woman who had, for all intents and purposes, completely unraveled Eren's composure; her scent, while thick and memorable in Eren's apartment, was hard to track otherwise. Armin spent two hours just wandering the city while trying to catch a breath of it here or there, and when he finally did manage to catch a whiff of her scent and follow it to her, he understood exactly why it had been so hard to track her down.

The girl was a Hunter, of all things.

When Armin found her, she was knee-deep in sewage, her knife embedded to the hilt in the skull of what appeared to be some species of winged reptile. Armin, having been a tad desperate and not actually having been expecting to find anything when he lifted the lid to the man-hole on 32nd and Main, was surprised to say the least— and when (Y/N) ripped her knife free and readjusted her stance into a defensive one directed at him, his surprise turned to intrigue.

“Er, hello there,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t suppose you’ll take my word for it that I just want to chat, will you?”

Curiously, the words gave the woman pause. She relaxed her stance ever-so-slightly, and then her eyes lit up with recognition.

“Armin Arlert?” she queried, craning her neck up to see him. “Is that you?”

This one grows curiouser and curiouser, he thought, but responded affirmatively.

“Can you give me a bit, then?” she asked, kicking the corpse of the Creature she’d just killed. “I’m not exactly fit for company. Perhaps we could meet later for a discussion over tea?”

“I’m afraid it’s urgent,” he said as she knelt to decapitate her prey— likely for proof of victory. “I think you know why I’m here, so you understand that time is of the essence.”

She didn’t look up at him as she replied.

“If this is about Eren, then I don’t have time to talk.”

Her tone was hard, bitter, and matter-of-fact, and it reminded Armin so much of Jean that it hurt… but just like Jean, Armin would bet that she could be won over by appealing to her inherent sense of human decency

“He’s suffering (Y/N),” he said, awkwardly crouching above the manhole so that she could better see the truth written in his eyes. “He won’t feed.”

“That’s hardly my problem.”

And oh, how well Armin knew that state of mind. If there was one thing Eren Jaeger knew how to do, it was push away the people who loved him most. Armin had dealt with that particularly lovely quirk of his for centuries, and it never got easier to deal with no matter how much time passed. If anything, it got more difficult the older they both got.

“When you’re the solution to a problem, you become a part of it whether you like it or not,” Armin replied, patient and understanding. “He cares for you.”

(Y/N) looked up at him then, fury in her eyes.

“He hurt me.”

Armin shrugged. “He hurts everyone he cares about. It’s just who he is. Nothing comes for free— least of all the love and loyalty of someone as old and as powerful as Eren.”

“Your heart may be toughened to his meanness,” she told him, the head of the creature she’d slain in her hands, “But mine is not, and I don’t like him well enough to willfully remain for him to use as an emotional punching bag.”

At that, Armin couldn’t help but let loose a wry grin.

“No,” he said, “I should think not; but I do think you love him well enough to make sure he doesn’t starve himself to death because he can’t have you.”

(Y/N) was silent for a long moment, then she crossed her arms.

“I won’t come crawling to him. He’s going to have to come to me.”

Armin grimaced. He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

“Is that at all negotiable?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

Well, there was nothing for it.

“And you will let him feed if he comes to you?”

(Y/N) thought, then nodded. “If he proves himself deserving.”

Armin couldn't help himself; he laughed. Eren might have met his match in this one.

"Very well. I'll work my magic, and you work yours."

She nodded and bade him farewell, but before Armin left, he paused.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

With that, he left her, ready to take Eren by the ear and throw him at her if he had to.

***

(Y/N)'s heart was racing as she opened the door, knowing good and well who would be behind it.

After her little talk with Armin— and the near heart attack he had given her in the process— she had called in to Zeke and told him she needed to go home to deal with an emergency. A replacement for her patrols had been sent, and she had come home to wash the grim from her skin, making herself as presentable as possible with the time she had. (Y/N) was worried, so worried, that the filth she had been wading in earlier would have left a lingering stench, or even that it had affected the taste of her; she had scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was raw, hoping to erase every last remnant of her day from her skin…but as it turned out, she needn't have bothered.

Two, three, four hours later, and Eren hadn't shown— it was only now, right at the six hour mark, that he had decided to come to her.

Needless to say, (Y/N) was… less than pleased, but when she opened the door to find Eren pale and drawn, with dark circles beneath his eyes, her heart softened ever-so-slightly. It seemed that Armin was right; he had been suffering.

"You look like shit," she told him quietly, opening her door widely to let him in.

"I assure you, I feel worse," Eren grumbled, but stepped in as she closed the door behind him.

For a long, awkward moment, they just looked at each other, silent and unsure. It was unsettling how unlike himself Eren seemed; he was almost soft when he looked at her, and (Y/N) didn't know how to feel about it. Eventually, though, like two opposite ends of a magnet, they were drawn together, and Eren brushed a piece of hair back from her face.

"Hi," he said, his voice low and rough. (Y/N) caught his hand in hers before it could fall from her hair, and she pressed it against her chest, keeping it trapped there, touching the skin above her beating heart.

"Hey."

They watched each other a moment more before the dam broke between them, and they both spoke at once.

"I'm sorry."

A shared grin, a shy laugh— and then (Y/N) said what they both were thinking.

"You need to feed first, and talk later," she told him, her hand still clasped in his. "You're not off the hook, but I doubt we can have any real conversation with you like this."

Eren nodded gratefully, tugging at her wrist— his usual biting spot— but (Y/N) shook her head, indicating her neck. The thickest, richest blood, she knew, would come from there; and if there was ever a time to be generous with the placement of Eren's bite, she figured that it would be now.

The worst of it was over quickly. There was a brief sting at the intrusion of razor-sharp fangs, and then the vaguely uncomfortable feeling of having something poking down into places that decidedly should not be poked at all, but then (Y/N) quickly eased into the rhythm of the act, focusing wholly on the way Eren's lips felt against her skin. In a few moments, she would become pleasantly light-headed, and then Eren would pull away and look at her like she'd hung the stars. Oh, how she'd missed that look! (Y/N) found herself longing for it even before she quite realized it.

And then, without warning, a vision came, and (Y/N) was swept into another world entirely.

The evening sky rolled endlessly out towards the horizon; it seemed to go on forever, sparkling with more stars than (Y/N) had ever seen before. The full moon was so bright that it cast the whole world in what seemed like silver sunlight, and (Y/N) wondered how anyone could sleep on a night such as this. It was far too beautiful an experience to miss.

Alongside her— alongside Eren, through whose eyes she saw the world— strode Armin and two older-looking cadets who she recognized from previous memories as Reiner and Berthold. Eren was feeling anxious over something, and Reiner and Berthold were… well, they were kind. Reiner especially seemed to be like an older brother, and Eren admired him.

"You'll do just fine tomorrow," said Reiner, placing a large, warm hand on Eren's shoulder. "I'm certain of it."

The memory ended, and (Y/N) came back to herself as Eren's tongue laved over the wounds his fangs had left in her neck, sealing them.

"See anything?" he asked, his breath warm against her skin, and (Y/N) nodded.

"You loved them, too," she said softly, remembering the fondness Eren had felt as though it had been her own. "You loved the Hunters that tried to take everything from you, and— and I think they loved you, too."

Eren pulled away from her, and it was then that she saw the tears shining in his eyes.

"Yes," he replied, his voice broken. "We were children. How could we not love each other as God intended? Hate was never in our nature; it was an inheritance that we couldn't escape."

He paused for a moment, then spoke again.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he told her, cupping her cheek in his hand. "I lost my temper. I forget— I forget that you're not them."

And (Y/N) understood. She understood that no matter how many centuries passed, there would be wounds that just wouldn't heal for Eren. He would lash out at things that wouldn't make sense to anyone who hadn't experienced the horrors of war as he had. Suddenly, she felt petty for having lashed out as she had, and guilt threatened to rise up and choke her.

"You're forgiven," she replied, leaning into his touch. "It takes two to tango— I shouldn't have baited you like I did. I knew how badly that would hurt you, and that's exactly why I said it."

At that, Eren cracked a grin.

"I expect nothing less from a Kirschtein. Your grandfather would have punched me square in the jaw— and as big as that bastard got when we were older, he probably would have put me on my ass."

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh, and Eren joined her, their combined joy swelling until there was nothing else in the world but their happiness.

How they started kissing, neither one of them would be able to say afterwards, but in the grand scheme of things, it hardly mattered. Their love was too large to contain, too much to hold back— and it was love, (Y/N) realized, though she hadn't quite put words to it yet. She loved Eren Jaeger, a Creature, a monster, as much as her grandfather before her had and more. She loved him with a desperation that felt like being knocked over by an ocean wave and plunged into depths where her feet no longer touched the sand. She loved him more than she had ever loved anyone before.

And, as he placed her gently on her bed that was barely big enough for two, divesting himself of his shirt above her, (Y/N) thought that maybe she didn't mind it so much as long as he loved her in return.

"I missed you," said Eren, dropping kisses by her ear as he unhooked her bra. "I missed this."

"Me too," she gasped as his mouth wandered to her nipple, her hands fisting in his hair. "Oh, God, I missed you too."

The time for words was soon gone, however; Eren's sinful, sinful mouth traveled lower and lower until he was kissing at the insides of her thighs, parting them to access what lay between, and (Y/N) threw her head back as he spread her open with his hands and sucked brazenly at her clit.

How long he spent there, worshipping her sex, (Y/N) had no idea; all she knew was that she came once from his mouth on her and a second time from his fingers inside her, and when he finally, mercifully withdrew, she was broken down to the simplest parts of herself; there was nothing left but an affection so deep that it threatened to overtake her if she didn't let it out, and she did the only thing she knew to do to release the overwhelming pressure that was building in her chest as Eren pushed his big, veiny cock into her.

She told him what she should have said a long time ago.

"Oh, Eren," she gasped as his cockhead shoved deep inside her. "I love you."

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Eren went unnaturally still. He looked at her with pupils blown wide inside emerald eyes, and his fangs slightly distended; in any other situation, (Y/N) might have laughed at how surprised he seemed, but it seemed as though she were frozen in time, unable to do anything but stare earnestly up at them, hoping he understood how much she cared for him.

"You… what?"

"I love you," she repeated, her body moving without her permission to roll her hips up into him, moving his cock even further inside her. "Please, Eren, I need—"

He cut her off with a forceful, bruising kiss, and his hips started making slow, deep thrusts inside her, her legs hiked up over his shoulders.

"Again," he said against her lips."Say it again."

"I love you."

Another thrust or two, a hand circling her wounded throat.

"Again."

"I love you, Eren."

"Again."

This time, it was only a whisper.

"I love you," she said, and Eren began fucking her in earnest.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he told her as he thrust hard and deep inside her. "You're every man's dream, a nirvana the damned such as myself were never meant to reach. (Y/N), you are everything, and I—"

He seemed to choke on the words, and (Y/N) kissed him as he tried to regain his composure.

"I don't deserve you," he said, shaking with the force of their passion. "I don't deserve your love."

It's not about deserving, she wanted to say, It never was, but then she was coming again, her climax contracting her walls around her lover, and it was all she could do to remain conscious as Eren fucked her relentlessly through it all, chasing his own high.

It was only later, after a shower and something to eat that they finally spoke again. They were back in bed, and Eren's arm was wrapped around her, as though he were afraid to let her go for even a moment; truthfully, (Y/N) thought he was asleep, but then his breath tickled her ear as he said,

"I love you, angel."

And that, (Y/N) thought, had been worth it all, in the end.

[waitingtobeimpressed]

The Duchess (1/?)

A/N- howdy friends, I actually wrote this like a year ago but I was never really happy with it, but anyways here it is.

**Not my gif**

Warnings: a severe attitude problem?

Captain Celeste Guthrie was finding it incredibly hard to keep control of her facial expressions. At this current moment in time she was hyper aware that if she let her guard down for even a second her sour mood would become evident on her face. It would be unprofessional of her to get up and leave and childish of her to just simply state just how ‘fucking

boring’ this was. Celeste could have been doing any number of things instead of being sat in a brittle wooden chair with all these old men all gaping at her breasts. It was exhausting to pretend like she gave a crap about all of this political bullshit, but if she didn’t even try to act like she cared as much as the rest of them she would be ridiculed for it, so instead she politely smiled and nodded her head along with the other men’s words. The six other Captains sat around Eleanor’s office table were all men and they all highly doubted the oldest Guthrie sisters’ capabilities to lead any ship let alone a pirate ship.

“Miss Guthrie?” an annoyed voice pulled her from her thoughts and seemingly grounded her at an instant, her deep blue eyes flicked over the source of the sound to see a short, round burly man with a long greying beard and mustache. He was shaking his head with a wicked smile etched onto his lips. He looked like he wanted to rip the much younger woman into several pieces for even acting like she belonged there.

“Actually, I prefer Captain, if you wouldn’t mind” Celeste could feel her sisters disapproving glare from next to her. Which only incited her bad mood further. Normally, Eleanor herself would have put the old man in his place for even daring to talk to her sister like this, however, she was trying to convince him to lower his prices for her so Celeste’s feelings would just have to be put on hold.

“Just as I thought” he continued to blabber on, he truly believed that he had her figured out, that he had all women figured out, because a woman couldn’t lead, a woman couldn’t even tie her shoelaces without help from a man. All men were the same, or at least all the men in Nassau were the same. All arrogant assholes.

“Why are we even entertaining this child!” he spat with more venom that was needed to get his point across while slamming his hand upon the table like it was a gavel. Celeste raised an annoyed eyebrow in his direction before turning to look at her sister who simply mouthed the word ‘no’. Celeste just thought that he was incredibly lucky that he was sat on the other side of the room to her otherwise she would have shown him just how much of child she could be.

Celeste stood, pushing her dress down to press out the wrinkles before placing both of her hands upon the table, leaning the rest of her body weight in the direction of her certain accuser. A forced laugh escaped her lips as she shook her head, her blonde ringlets bouncing as she did so. “I feel so incredibly sorry for you Captain Pike” a confused look flashed over his features before an angry one took its place. “ it must be truly terrible to always have the smallest brain in the room, and with all of these big, offensive ideas brewing up there I’m personally surprised that you are not constantly plagued with a searing headache” Celeste smiled, she simply couldn’t help herself. Now this was a meeting that was worth going to.

“Now, I don’t want to come across as hostile because I know that you men are extremely sensitive when it comes to the size of your… Ships,” Celeste paused to locate her choice words carefully, Captain Pike looked like her wanted to throttle her, like many of the other Captains, on the other hand Captain Flint looked highly amused.

“however, The Duchess has once again brought in the most imports, most of which are ready for market” Celeste sat, slumping slightly in her chair to indicate to the others just how unjust these accusations were. “Once again, my ship and my crew have made the most money, which is probably why I’m being ‘entertained’ at this meeting,”. She shot a pointed look towards Pike who looked like he needed to take a breath to ‘calm his nerves’. ”so the real question is why are you being entertained?”

“It’s truly great that your humble about your success” Flint chuckled with a wide smile as he kicked up his feet onto the table. Celeste mocked his actions as she crossed her arms over her chest. “but the lady does have a point, Pike,” he said as he stretched his arms to rest above his head. “so shut your damn mouth”

“Now that’s no way to speak to one of our most respected colleagues” an instantly recognizable deep voice echoed throughout the room and the wind knocked out from Celeste’s chest, her arms instantly became slack.

Celeste snapped her head in her younger sisters’ direction who looked incredibly guilty. That little witch. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Eleanor promised that she wouldn’t have to see him during these meetings.

“Ah Vane, nice of you to finally join us” Eleanor piped up for the first time this meeting, Celeste’s burning glare making the younger girl a little nervous, “However you are almost an hour and a half late.” Vane closed the door behind himself and lazily dropped himself into the seat directly opposite from Celeste who was currently finding her shoes incredibly interesting. Vane however couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from her body. He pulled a cigar from his pocket and used one of the shorter pillar candles that were placed upon the table to light it, blowing out smoke as he did so.

Celeste wanted nothing more than for this meeting to be over so she retreat back to the safety of her ship. She hadn’t laid eyes on the man in nearly 6 years and she certainly didn’t want to start up again now. She hoped that she could just go unnoticed for the rest of this meeting like she had done for the first hour. That wish was, however, unlikely.

“Im here now, aren’t I?” Vane wanted a rise out of the young woman, she knew this, and she would rather die than give it to him. “ and if you had mentioned that your lovely sister were here Elenor, I would have quickened my pace.” He said very amused with himself while balancing the cigar between his lips. Celeste rolled her eyes, huffing to herself back into the corner of the room. She caught a glimpse of the traveling people outside on the street below and she envied all of them. They didn’t have to be in this sweltering box of a room with possibly the people she hated the most on the planet’s, “What were you fine gentleman, oh and I mustn’t forget, ladies, discussing?”.

One of the other captains stood, Captain Kane who was a ugly stick of a man, pointed at Celeste accusingly, which caused her to tear her eyes up towards him, scowling at him. “Captain Guthrie was just informing us that her and her crew, which might I had is almost entirely made up of women, have managed to make the most coin this past month. Which I highly doubt to be the case” He spat as he downed the rest of the ale that was left in bottle. Celeste scoffed loudly which didn’t by any means go unnoticed by the rest of the men. Suddenly felt a sharp elbow press into her side. To her side she could see her younger sister glaring, totally unamused.

“Ow! What the fuck was that for I’m not the one being a bigot” Celeste snarled at her younger sibling who was cautiously eyeing the other people in the room who were all now bickering amongst themselves. All except Flint and Vane. Flint was looking down towards his hands, looking at a small folded parchment paper in between his calloused fingertips. His tired face looked bored much like Celeste’s. Which is probably why they got along so well.

Vane, however looked entirely all too pleased with himself, like he had everyone where he wanted them. Celeste snapped her vision and locked eyes with the man, instantly regretting the choice when he smirked at her, to be perfectly honest she knew she would eventually run into her childhood friend again one day, it was just a matter of time. And unfortunately, her luck had run out. It would’ve been perfectly fine with her to never see the person who had ruined her life ever again. Vane, being as stubborn as he was believed that he had given the older Guthrie girl enough time to ‘get over it’ and now she was just being bitter.

“Would you at least try and act civil” Eleanor whispered as she leaned into Celeste’s side. Celeste ripped her gaze away from Vane and back to the window.

“Me being ‘Civil’ does not mean bowing down to every man in sight because it suits your needs.”

“This is exactly why father left me to run this business, you can’t see past your pride and into the future!”

“ No, father left you the business because you are his little pet. And might I had that you were also the only one here. I believe in creating my own worth not riding on daddy’s wealth and pretending that its my own.” Celeste angrily whispered back.

An evil grin formed on Vanes face, he could quite clearly see the rift between the two sisters and wondered how much more strain their relationship could handle before it cracked completely, “Convenient , because if that was true then that would mean that Captain Guthrie here probably had the help from her little sister, you know giving her the best tips for the most valuable ships, the biggest plunders. And that really wouldn’t be fair at all. Would it?” He stated matter of factly, tilting his head to see if his efforts had managed to anger Celeste. Which they definitely had.

“How fucking dare you!” Celeste sat bold upright in her chair, purposely turning her attention to Vane, “Since when was my crew and my ship being brought under investigation, maybe if you weren’t all drunks, or out whoring all the live long day, or you actually knew how to captain a goddamned ship, you would be spending your coin rather than watching me roll around in mine.” Celeste forcefully pushed the chair from underneath herself, not bothering to correct her dress this time. “now if you’ll excuse me, I have far better things to do with my time, like watching paint dry.” she hatefully spat before walking the short distance to the door and ultimately deciding that slamming it was her best course of action.

Pike laughed so weakly that it could have been mistaken for nasty chest infection, “see?” he pointed to the still rattling door, “this is why women can’t be in charge of anything, they are far too emotional” he said stroking the gruff on his chin.

Vane took everyone by surprise when he also abruptly stood, stubbing the end of his cigar out directly onto the table, avoiding the ash tray, “I suggest you shut the fuck up” his low gruff voice bellowed out before he too made his way to the door, leaving everyone else with a look of confusion on their faces. Eleanor knew that the two had a history, but she assumed that they would either pretend it never happened or Celeste would be the bigger person and not let his often-relentless teasing get the better of her, looks like she was wrong.

Celeste practically ran down the steps of the tavern wanting nothing more then to seek the safety of her nice cool cabin on her ship, surrounded by people who she can somewhat tolerate. At least her cabin had a bolt on the door, as Celeste marched through the maze of people and reached the street, she felt eyes boring into her. She had a pretty good idea of who it was which was why she was gradually picking up her pace. Celeste couldn’t deal this this right now, or ever to be perfectly honest, so she kept her pace until the beach came into sight. The heat at this point was almost unbearable and the layered long black dress was not helping the situation. She gathered the ends of her dress, exposing her bare legs, before jumping down off of the dock and onto the white hot sand.

Or the beach is where you can really see the split of people in Nassau as only Pirates dared show their faces down there, which made Celeste, who was a woman, a bit of a rarity. The only thing she hated more that Charles Vane was this beach, with all of its vagrants and criminals, however it was the only way back to her ship, so it was a necessary evil. Weaving in and out of the makeshift tents she eventually broke their density and to made it out to hear the gentle lapping of the sea against the sand.

Celeste could feel a mass amount of eyes piercing her figure as she shielded her own with her hand from the blazing sun. she ignored them like she always did and tried to locate her second in command Rosabelle who should have been waiting with their rowboat along with two of her most trusted men, Felix and Jack. No luck however, and she soon realized that they was barely anyone this far down the beach, not a single person was rowing out to the larger ships in port.

What the fuck is going on?

Slowly, Celeste turned her body to look to the left of her to inspect the rest of the beach, but she really wished she hadn’t. Stood there was Vane, both of his hands perched upon his hips has he squinted his ice blue eyes towards her, a smirk pressed against his lips. “Hello, Love. Its been a while.” His gruff voice spoke as he took a view steps closer, Celeste did not move, not under any circumstances. She was not going to be bullied by him a she certainly wasn’t going to give in to him. She would rather die.

She glared at him, “Not nearly long enough” she spat as she pushed past his broad shoulder as bolted past him. He wasn’t about to let her leave him standing on this beach, again, so he sharply turned and grasped onto her wrist. She jumped out of instinct and mentally scolded herself for doing so. She tried ripping her arm from her grasp but when she kept failing she began to walk again and to her surprise he didn’t try to stop her, instead he followed her like a child until they were back at the top of the beach.

“What the fuck do you want Vane, let me fucking go” Celeste shouted as she spun around to face him. Pushing him against a wall on one of the unsuspecting houses that lined the beach. Celeste had pushed him with just enough force for him to to let go of her wrist. A smile broke through on to his face, not a smirk but a genuine smile. This caused Celeste to immediately let go of his chest and retreat back a few steps before walking away again.

“You really must let your petty anger go love, its not attractive” vane said, hot on Celestes heals as she darted in and out of the various merchants. Celeste was not really sure what he was planning to gain from making her angry and though she hated to admit it was almost working.

“Its not attractive?, oh heaven forbid, will the gods ever forgive me?” she seethed as she quickened her pace anxious to escape Vane. This is why she didn’t want to see him again, he was being insufferable and didn’t show any signs of letting up soon.

Vane chuckled as he darted in front of her,quite effectively stopping her in the middle of the street., “neither is sarcasm” Celeste was finding it very difficult to not punch the man straight in the face, but she knew that would do little to nothing to change if persistency.

“I don’t give a fuck what you think of me Vane” Finally and totally stopping to move around him because it was basically pointless. Obviously her old find had something on his mind and he wasn’t about to let Celeste skip out of town until she had heard it.

Vane clicked his tongue and tilted his head to the side ever so slightly,“I highly doubt that” he said.

Unbeknownst to the squabbling pair below, Jack Rackam and Anne Bonny we’re watching in amusement from the balcony of an ale house directly opposite from them.

Jack let out a laugh as he leaned on the weathered wood of the railing as he cradled a half filled bottle in his hand. “ Oh Christ, is that Celeste Guthrie with Captain?” He questioned as he lightly lurched forward to get a better look. “ She does not look happy to say the least.”

“ She never looks happy, part of her’ charm” Anne said as she settled next to him, staring at the pair who had finally stopped.

Jack turned to Anne with a look of realisation on his drunken face. “ That’s right, you were a member of her crew a few years back if I’m not mistaken”, Anne rolled her eyes. “ How was that experience my love? Is it true that their are only down on their luck women to man the ship?” He stopped for a second before turning to gage his partners current mood before deeming that it was safe enough to carry on. “That hardly seems practical.”

“Hey Captain, ive been looking everywhere for you” Celeste whipped her head to see the extremely concerned look on Rosabelles pale face.

“oh thank god, Rosabelle, what is it?”

“you should probably just come and see this”

Various things were running through Celestes mind as she and her second in command lead her through the bustling streets of Nassau. However she was just happy to be rid of Vane. To be perfectly honest she hadn’t expected him to hound her like he had done.

Rosabelle led Celeste right back to the tavern, much to her dismay. Celeste could her sister pacing anxiously.

“What do you want now?” Celeste called out but was instantly taken aback when see saw tears rolling down her cheeks.

Elenor was wringing her hand in front of her “ it’s Aurora, she’s missing Celeste”

[nekohooch]

real life bs under the cut

Im gonna vent and then make another post of positivity because i need that right now. My uncle called my mother and said outright that my sisters and I were not welcome at my grandfathers funeral because of a fight that happened 7 years ago before my grandmother died which he has not forgiven all of us as a collective for.

Disregarding completely that we were 22, 20, and 17 at the time and have grown in leaps and bounds since that time. The sister hes most mad at went to fucking therapy for 7 years and is a completely different person.

Hes pissed that at 22 I couldnt afford with my minimum wage job to fly down with 24 hours notice to go to my grandmothers funeral, a thing that haunts me to this day. hes pissed that E and B didnt fly from High School and College to go to the funeral when someone had to buy mamas ticket so she could say goodbye to her mama. hes so far up his own ass and so on his high horse that hes mad that over the past 7 years none of us has reached out to say sorry to him specifically even though he has never once responded to his own sister trying to talk to him. Because she never opened the convo with “im sorry” she didnt make an effort. Because we had no idea he WANTED an apology because he refused to speak to us!!!

If i never see this man again in my life after this funeral (if im allowed to go) it will be too goddamn soon. We knew we were probably not going to be allowed to stay with them at Papas house but to try and ban 3 of his 6 grandchildren entirely??? thats a new low for these people and they are the ones who basically tried to uninvite my mother from her mothers funeral. Get your head out of your 48 year old ass and act like a bigger adult than the 20 somethings you used to call your nieces.

how dare you try to destroy the legacy of love and acceptance my grandfather lived his life with.

I am so done watching my mother fight tooth and nail to just get a hint of respect from the people who are supposed to be her family. They didnt call mama until after grammy died, they didnt call mama two years ago when papa almost died and they only called her this time because a preacher friend of his asked my mother (who had no idea of the situation) how Papas surgery was going. then her brother called her to let her know what was going on because her sister refused to answer a text message.

He said he “let us say goodbye on the phone because we werent allowed to come to the funeral and he almost didnt do that”

im at a loss for words of how angry i am, how hurt i am.

im glad that mama got out of the range of those siblings of hers because they turn everything around them toxic with spite and bitterness.

I was telling Jeremy that when you dont talk to someone for a while it lends a softness to the memory like maybe you exaggerated it. But then things like this happen and you realize again that youre the nice ones.

and the worst part about it is im so goddamn empathetic i know hes fucking mad i know hes misplacing blame because he just watched his father die in front of him and it didnt sound pretty from his description and he needs someone to hate he needs an outlet for his anger. I know that. I know hes struggled with being emotional and hated when his emotions are out of his control. I KNOW. it doesnt make my pain go away. it doesnt take away the panic attack i had or listening to my mothers heart wrenching sobs when she got off the phone with him.

Shes the strongest woman I know and this is torture. She literally told someone last night when things were up in the air that she didnt know how to live in a world without him. Hes her Daddy. Hes one of the kindest, was one of the kindest, things in her life the peacemaker between his stubborn children the reason she takes the high road the person who taught her to love through the hurt. he was stubborn as hell but he loved so much. i cant believe hes gone. she said this morning she woke up and for a second thought it was a dream.

I think the hardest thing coming up for me is how to stand up for my mother without causing a fight. her sister hasnt talked to her since that fight and mama doesnt want to talk to her. I promised mama not to fight with people though. she cant handle it and will barely be able to keep it together.

SO i vent here. wish with every fibre of my being that I could rip his vocal chords out of his body so he cant say another goddamn holier than thou word to her or about us. Thank whatever being is watching over me that I never have to see these people again after this.

[mortaems-blog]

*     taps     mic     *     so,     uh,     is     this     thing     on     ?     hello     !     my     name’s     stevie,     i’m     twenty     (     she/they     pns,     please     )     and     i’m     writing     out     of     aest     !     [     bill     hader     vc     ]     i     like     true     crime     and     pretending     like     i     don’t     have     a     million     things     to     do     outside     of     writing     !     anyways     !     under     the     cut     you’ll     find     information     about     francesca     ramorini,     ezra     kennedy     and     percy     frazer     !     u     know     the     drill,     like     this     &     i’ll     pop     into     your     ims     either     here     or     on     disc.ord     to     plot     !

francesca  magdalene  ramorini.  vampire.  old.

full  name:  francesca  magdalene  ramorini. physical  age:  thirty-one. real  age:  six  hundred  and  seventy  seven. birthplace:  milan,  italy. birthdate:  january  sixth,  1342. nationality:  italian. species:  vampire. gender  identity:  cis  female,  she/her  pronouns. sexuality:  bisexual.

when  i  say  she’s  old,  i  mean  old.  francesca  and  her  brother,  domenico,  are  from  13th  century  milan,  where  their  family  were  originally  some  of  the  most  prolific  hunters  in  italy.  the  ramorinis  had  been  vampire  hunters  for  years  previous,  but  it  was  their  parents  who  had  really  cemented  the  reputation  as  some  of  the  best.  the  ramorinis  were  a  big  name  in  milan  anyway,  just  because  of  how  ridiculously  wealthy  they  were.  these  guys  are  fucking  loaded.  they  were  very  much  the  apex  predator  in  the  milani  aristocracy  at  the  time.  naturally,  the  whole  ‘we’re  a  bunch  of  vampire  hunters’  thing  is  very  hidden,  concealed  under  the  family’s  reputation  as  the  owners  of  what  feels  like  an  impossibly  large  international  bank  that  funded  chunks  of  the  holy  roman  empire.  with  all  that  in  mind,  francesca  grows  up  with  absolutely  nothing  but  opulence,  and  their  parents  really  allow  her  to  grow  into  her  own  woman  ---  strong,  determined,  with  a  mind  for  both  family  trades.  there  was  never  any  chance  of  her  just  sitting  round  and  being  complacent  in  the  predetermination  of  her  life  ;  she’s  always  been  headstrong,  brave,  intelligent  and  opinionated,  too  loud  for  her  own  good,  a  face  to  turn  heads.  

they  have  a  younger  brother,  too,  fredo.  (  the  name  is  very  significant.  )  as  dom  and  francesca  started  to  learn  to  hunt  themselves,  they’d  often  end  up  with  fred  tagging  along,  and  for  the  most  part  that  was  fine.  fred’s  a  bit  of  a  weirdo,  but  having  them  around  wasn’t  so  bad   ---   until  one  particular  hunt.  really,  it’s  no  one’s  fault  (  despite  a  centuries-long  running  joke  that  it  was  fred  that  got  them  there  in  the  first  place  )   ;   it’s  a  case  of  wrong  place,  wrong  time.  anyways,  francesca  and  dom  were  turned  on  that  particular  hunt  and  their  entire  world  just  kinda  spun  out,  tbh.  they  were  so  accustomed  to  seeing  vampires  and  whatnot  as  the  absolute  enemy,  nothing  more  than  a  scourge  to  be  wiped  out   ---  but  now  they  were  part  of  that  scourge.  

francesca  especially  had  a  hard  time  dealing  with  the  transition.  everything  she  knew  was  flipped  on  its  head,  a  life  she  once  looked  forward  to  reveling  in  lost  in  the  blink  of  an  eye,  the  sink  of  a  fang.  the  transition  isn’t  easy,  but  she  shoulders  it  regardless  because  it’s  just  part  of  life  now.  she  gives  up  the  life  she  was  meant  to  have  and  forges  a  new  one  ---  and  she  thinks  she’ll  hate  it,  but  it  turns  out  to  be  oddly  freeing.  she  takes  up  art,  learns  to  paint  and  sculpt  from  some  of  the  greatest  ;  she  learns  more  than  she  ever  could  as  an  aristocrat,  becomes  rather  chameleonic  about  it  all.

so,  anyways  !  she  and  dom  are  in  louisiana  now,  in  this  massive  fucking  mansion  that  they  wrangled  ;  francesca  moonlights  as  any  number  of  different  jobs.  she  teaches  a  late - night  art  class,  runs  an  adult  ballet  class  (  she  danced  with  fonteyn  in  the  40s  )  ---  she’s  become  incredibly  comfortable  in  the  life  she’s  built.  falling  into  it  all  was  easier  than  she  ever  imagined  it  could  be.

anyways,  fun  facts:  

she  dresses  so  goddamn  well.  she  looks  good  literally  all  the  time,  and  she  fuckin  KNOWS  it  /  francesca  honey  stop  wearing  expensive  tailored  suits  everywhere  ur  going  to  make  men  insecure  

won’t  ever  shut  up  about  emily  dickinson  or  georgia  o’keeffe........  #ma’am  ur  crush  is  loud  and  painful

the  hot  aunt  aunt  at  the  dinner  party  who  simultaneously  judges  ur  decisions  and  encourages  them

yet  another  ramorini  casanova  ...  are  we  surprised  yet  (  no  )

ezra  riley  kennedy.  hunter.  twenty - one.

full  name:  ezra  riley  kennedy. physical  age:  twenty-one. birthplace:  hoboken,  new  jersey. birthdate:  july  ninth,  1998. nationality:  american. species:  human. gender  identity:  non-binary,  they/them  pronouns. sexuality:  pansexual.

i  need  it  known  right  fockin  now  that  i  would  literally  die  for  ezra  .  they’re  my  FUCKING  baby  and  i  won’t  shut  up  about  it

ezra  was  born  to  two  former  hunters  who  gave  up  the  minute  they  were  pregnant.  it  wasn’t  a  choice  they  were  particularly  willing  to  make,  and  despite  swearing  that  they’d  stop  after  having  kids  they  never  really  did.  almost  immediately  after  ezra  was  born  their  parents  were  back  out  hunting  again,  leaving  the  baby  with  their  grandparents.  as  such,  ezra’s  raised  entirely  by  their  maternal  grandparents.  they  simultaneously  teach  them  their  family  history  (  an  extensive  hunting  background,  the  expectations  that  sit  heavy  on  their  shoulders.  ezra’s  expected  to  carry  on  the  family  legacy  the  minute  they  turn  eighteen,  to  learn  how  to  hunt  and  kill.  admittedly,  it’s  a  shock  to  the  system.

they’re  not  in  much  contact  with  their  parents.  they  come  home  every  so  often,  greet  their  kid  and  go  straight  to  sleep.  there’s  very  little  real  interaction  /  gets  to  the  point  where  ezra  thinks  of  them  more  as  irritating  roommates  that  come  home  late  and  eat  everything  than  actual  parents.  their  loyalty  is  to  their  grandparents,  without  a  doubt.

ezra’s  keenly  aware  that  they’ve  got  no  choice  in  their  career,  but  they  can’t  help  but  want  some  kind  of  say  in  it.  they  excel  at  stem  subjects  in  school,  more  often  found  in  science  labs  testing  hypotheses  in  their  free  time  than  anywhere  else.  they’re  left  alone  more  often  than  not,  slipping  through  school  without  much  of  a  problem  until  they’re  sixteen  and  their  parents  die  in  the  middle  of  a  hunt.  it’s  a  rude  shock  to  the  system,  having  to  bury  both  parents  at  such  a  young  age  but  they  do  it  with  tremendous  grace  and  class.  shortly  after  the  funeral,  they  drop  out  of  school  to  start  hunting.

they’re  jaded  going  into  it,  definitely.  their  only  real  image  of  hunters  is  the  one  they  were  handed  by  their  parents   ---   of  dark  circles  under  eyes,  chain  smoking,  swallowing  bourbon  like  water,  passing  out,  rinse  and  repeat.  they’re  determined  to  break  that  mold,  to  do  something  different  but  they  won’t  lie,  they  considered  it  at  first.  for  their  first  few  hunts  they  tried  to  imitate  their  parents,  and  it  didn’t  turn  out  well   ---   so,  like  everything  else,  ezra  fits  it  to themself,  and  the  rest  is  history.  they  develop  their  own  style,  and  it  works.

hoboken  is  too  small,  not  enough  for  them  so  they  pack  up  and  move  off  to  louisiana.  (  they’d  found  an  old  journal  of  their  parents’,  with  notes  alluding  to  a  wish  to  move  to  new  orleans  and  despite  not  being  close  they  figured  it  might  be  a  good  idea.  )  they’ve  been  in  nola  for  about  a  year  now,  and  they’re  growing  to  love  it.  they’ve  always  been  a  city  kid,  and  there’s  something  about  nola  just  speaks  to  them.

so,  fun  facts:

super  good  with  technology.  they  fix  shit  in  their  free  time,  &  they  build  computers  n  shit   ?????

smells  like  frangipani  and  jasmine  and  ginger.  they  smell  really  fucking  good  for  some  reason

lots  of  denim  and  leather  and  yellow  in  their  outfits.  they’ve  got  one  particular  leather  jacket  for  hunting,  but  they  kinda  started  a  collection

angelic  in  every  single  way  possible

has  a  black  cat,  named  salem.  salem’s  a  good  cat.

percy  floyd  frazer.  witch.  twenty - four.

full  name:  percy  floyd  frazer. physical  age:  twenty-four. birthplace:  amsterdam,  the  netherlands. birthdate:  february  12th,  1995. nationality:  british. species:  witch. gender  identity:  demi  male,  he/they  pronouns. sexuality:  bisexual.

percy  .......  sighs.  i  love  him  so  fuckin  much

so  !  percy  is  born  to  two  english  witches  while  they’re  on  holiday  in  amsterdam,  a  pregnancy  that  both  parties  had  been  hoping  for  ;  their  household  was  starting  to  feel  awfully  lonely,  and  a  baby  sounded  like  the  perfect  way  to  round  it  all  out.  naturally,  though,  nothing  goes  to  plan  ---  his  arrival  puts  ‘unwarranted  stress’  on  his  dad,  who  cuts  his  losses  and  runs  about  a  month  after  percy’s  birth.  bit  of  a  dick  move,  but  let’s  move  on.  his  mother,  annaliese,  doesn’t  harbour  any  real  resentment  towards  his  dad  for  leaving  ;  she’d  fallen  in  love  with  amsterdam  on  their  brief  holiday  and  was  planning  on  breaking  up  and  moving  there  anyway.  

so  !  for  his  entire  childhood,  it’s  just  percy  and  his  mom,  and  it’s  the  best  kind  of  childhood  you  could  ask  for.  he  grows  up  watching  all  the  same  movies  as  his  mom,  reading  her  books  and  just  hanging  around  her  24/7.  ngl  he  kinda  had  the  coolest  childhood   ????   his  mom  loved  to  rent  out  her  favourite�� bands’  old  tour  videos  and  there’s  many  an  afternoon  where  the  two  of  them  would  sit  there  and  just  listen  to  music  together.  their  relationship  is  very  similar  to  that  of  theo  and  his  mother  from  the  goldfinch,  if  that  gives  anyone  a  frame  of  reference.

he’s  about  thirteen  when  she  finally  sits  him  down,  tells  him  about  the  magic  that  whispers  a  steady  thrum  in  his  veins.  she  tells  him  about  the  uprising,  about  the  way  magic  has  become  outlawed,  how  he   has  to  learn  to  restrain  himself.  it’s  a  lot  for  someone  so  young  to  understand,  but  he  sits  through  it  patiently,  peppering  questions  here  and  there.  he  doesn’t  seem  particularly  enthused  about  his  heritage  (  really,  who  would  )   ---   his  mother  barely  holds  back  the  tremor  in  her  voice  throughout  the  conversation.

the  more  percy  learns  about  the  restriction  of  magic,  the  more  bitter  and  jaded  he  grows  about  it  all.  he  doesn’t  hate  himself,  nor  his  mother,  hates  the  pureblood  monarchy  with  such  a  passion  it’s  almost  terrifying.  he’s  sixteen  when  he  swears  off  magic,  tries  to  quash  it  down  the  best  he  can.  he  point - blank  refuses  to  accept  that  it’s  part  of  him,  and  tries  to  find  a  passion  that  distracts  him  from  it.  that  ends  up  being  music,  and  he  takes  to  it  like  a  fish  takes  to  water.  the  minute  he  picks  up  a  guitar,  it’s  like  his  world  makes  sense.

they’ve  been  living  in  amsterdam  this  entire  time,  wasting  afternoons  in  art  galleries  and  bakeries.  percy’s  eighteen  when  he  decides  that  it’s  time  to  spread  his  wings  and  move  away  ---  his  decision  is  hardly  precise,  he  throws  a  dart  at  a  map  and  hopes  for  the  best.  it  lands  on  new  orleans,  louisiana,  and  he  just  kinda  goes  with  it.  he  doesn’t  have  much  to  pack  up:  a  single  suitcase  full  of  clothes,  another  filled  with  books  and  dvds,  and  his  guitars,  that’s  it.  both  him  and  his  mom  cry  at  the  airport,  but  it’s  happy  crying.  

so,  anyways   !   he’s  been  in  louisiana  for  six  years  now,  and  he  loves  it.  when  he  first  moved  he  worked  any  number  of  casual  jobs,  but  he’s  settled  into  one  as  a  bookseller  in  an  indie  bookshop.  he  writes  film  +  music  reviews  for  a  number  of  online  sites  as  well,  so  he’s  got  himself  a  steady  lil  income.  

some  fun  facts:

dresses  like  an  utter  e-boy  and  i  won’t  apologise  for  it  

looks  n  acts  like  an  arrogant  prick  sometimes  but  truly....... sweet,  kind,  would  do  anything  for  the  people  he  loves  (  even  if  that  number  is  small  )

totally  pretentious  about  his  tastes.  don’t  start  him,  for  the  love  of  god

perpetually  got  his  glasses  on,  perpetually  holding  an  oversized  cup  of  tea

has  a  collection  of  tiny  little  tattoos  (  they’re  all  references  to  books / movies / music  he  loves  )

i  ............  love  him  a  lot

[angrylizardjacket]

ask you destiny to dance [7] {Roger Taylor}

[masterpost]

“What did you do? Ash is more pissed at you than usual.” Brian’s looking covertly between Ash wiping glasses at the bar, and Roger, adjusting the height of his high hats a few weeks after he’d confronted her about August. She hadn’t spoken to him directly since then, but the other band members were starting to catch on.

“I didn’t do anything-” Roger tries to protest, but Freddie’s laugh cuts him off.

“He made a comment about Pocket Rocket’s dear friend.” Freddie adds, having adapted to the nickname with ease, an amused smile on his face as he looks at Roger over his shoulder.

“You mean her boyfriend.” Roger snaps, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ash tense at the bar, giving away her eavesdropping, though he didn’t call her out on it.

“Ash isn’t dating that guy, he’s like forty.” Brian laughed, but Roger caught the way Freddie’s expression darkened, though he didn’t dwell on it, and Roger’s own smile became knowing and bitter.

“Yeah, listen Bri, I know what I said.” He responded venomously, and the mood around them sobered considerably. “I don’t like him, okay, he’s too old for her,” after a beat, he wrinkled his nose, “got a dickhead aura.” 

“You’ve met him once.” John points out, trying to lighten the aura. Roger just bristled at the statement.

“Rog is just fond of her,” Freddie cuts in, voice a little condescending, smile mischievous, “let him be jealous, it might take him down a peg or two.”  

“I’m not bloody jealous of that creep!” After a beat of feeling particularly hurt, and Freddie’s commenting hitting a little too close to home, he hears himself lashing out, “And how low do you think my standards really are, Freds?” And that shocked Freddie into silence, eyes wide and disbelieving, his eyebrows raised, as he turned away, jaw clenched.

“You really are just trying to burn that bridge while we’re standing on it, aren’t you?” Brian shook his head, sighing heavily as he went back to his guitar.

“Roger,” John said carefully, coming over to speak quietly to the drummer, as the rest of the band turned away, uncomfortable, “let me get the drinks tonight.” And it’s not what he expected to hear, but when he looks to John, John’s looking over at the bar. Ash is making direct eye contact with him, her customer service smile looking mostly threatening as she keeps polishing the same spot on a glass. “Because that woman is going to spit in all of your drinks and make you watch.” John explains, now looking to Roger, who’s expression was carefully neutral, trying not to betray his own anger at himself. “And as much as I love our dear Pocket Rocket, it’s not something I particularly want.” 

She’s definitely gone back to hating him, and he didn’t realise how much it would hurt. 

The worst part is that she’s so damn happy around everyone else, and he hates himself for being hurt by that. He’s angry, but not at her (never at her, not for something like this) he’s angry because he sees the way she smiles at him from behind the bar, and he sees the way August spends more time looking at the girls in the crowd, though she can’t even tell from where she’s standing. Roger’s angry because she fucking gushes about August - “He’s just made tenure!” - and yet he won’t even touch her if there’s someone else around. He’s livid because she’s so clearly in love with him, but she still can’t bring herself to tell the others his name because she knows - knows - something’s up with August, even if she doesn’t want to admit it, even if the others can’t see it.

Except that’s not the reason she doesn’t say his name.

“He’s here at every show, we should say thank you.” Brian tries after a gig, talking mainly to Roger and John, as Freddie had been giggling with Mary, the two of them in their own little world. Ash is nowhere to be seen. Roger takes another drag of his cigarette.

“Heaps of people are fans of us, it doesn’t mean we have to personally thank them every time.” Roger scoffed, but Brian made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like he disagreed.

“It’s a show of good faith, we should at least shake hands with-” and he paused for a moment, brow furrowing, “what’d she say his name was again?”

“Doctor Reid, if I recall.” John piped up, and Brian shifted his weight, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, but what’s his first name? That sounds so formal, like, ‘Oh, can I grab you a beer Doctor Reid?’” He put on a voice, laughing at his own joke, looking to John, who just shrugged helplessly.

“August.” Roger’s voice is very quiet, hunched in on himself sitting in the back of the van. Brian frowns, leaning in a little, confused as to both how Roger has kept this for so long, and what the name actually was. “His name’s August.” Roger repeated, voice heavy but louder this time. Freddie freezes. “She calls him Gus.” He adds.

“You’re joking, right?” Freddie says into the uncertain silence, and that’s the moment that the back door comes crashing open and Ash comes out, grinning, hands in her pockets.

“Hey guys,” she grinned, nodding at them, not even sparing Roger a glace, “could I have my jacket back? You can drop the pants back tomorrow if you like.” Freddie turns to her, eyes wide, disbelieving smile still frozen almost painfully onto his face, not removing the oversized, blood red velour button down shirt Freddie had been wearing over a black singlet.

“Is that man we keep seeing Gus?” He asked, voice scarily neutral. None of the others had ever heard him like this, had barely heard Freddie genuinely angry like this, and Ash’s expression dropped.

“I’ve gotta go.” It’s not the answer any of them expect, nor is Ash turning on her heel and heading back into the pub before the door had even swung fully shut. Turning back to the band, they could all see that Freddie was livid.

“I’m going to gut the bastard. Gut him like a goddamn fish, I swear I will.” He seethed, hands curling and uncurling into fists, staring at the gravel. It was as if the air around him was snapping with the electricity of a storm. Looking up, all Freddie could see was how shocked the others were, even Roger, and he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to calm down.

“That’s the bastard that ruined her life.” He admitted through clenched teeth. “Roger’s fucking right, the man’s no good.” And Roger couldn’t even take the moment to bask in the vindication that would have usually surged through him at being told he was right, instead, his blood runs cold.

“He what?” Mary asked softly, and Freddie’s expression softened, looking finally between all of them, realising what he’d said.

“He’s the reason she was expelled from her last university, and...” Frowning, Freddie shakes his head. Brian, John, and Mary all took a moment to process this new information, shock written all over their faces. “It’s not my place,” and he started on a new strand of information, “he was her teacher, he started a clandestine affair with her when she started university, and,” pausing again, he sighed, the anger still clearly flowing through him, though it had simmered down to a bitter rage, “not my place.” He repeated. 

“Doesn’t he have a wife and family? How old was she?” Brian asked, a little aghast, and Freddie sighed.

“She was eighteen.” Freddie sighed.

“She was a kid.” Roger breathed, anger bubbling up inside of him.

“Hey, that’s only a year younger than me.” John pointed out, but Roger turned on him.

“Oh, I’m sorry John, are you having an affair with one of your teachers that we need to stage an intervention for?” He snapped, and John’s face fell, and he looked to the ground.

“I’m just saying she was an adult is all, doesn’t make it right, but she can make her own choices.” He paused. “She seems happy.” Both Freddie and Roger deflated at that, they’re all quiet for a long moment, and without a word, Freddie heads inside.

“Ash.” When he says her name, she looks up with an expression that tells him she’s ready to fight.

“He’s different now, Freddie.” She tells him, already defending herself and the man who she knows in her heart probably doesn’t deserve it. Freddie was ready to fight him the moment he heard August’s name, and he didn’t even know the full story. Sure he could gather the impact it had on Ash, but he never really truly realised the effect August had on her.

“What does that mean, Ash? What exactly is keeping me from coming over here and beating him bloody with my microphone next time we play here?” Freddie asked, voice very serious. Pulling off her apron, Ash told Maureen, who had been eavesdropping on the conversation, that she was knocking off for the night, which Maureen agreed to, and Ash walked around the bar and took Freddie’s hand.

“We’re not having this conversation here.” She hissed, pulling him into the staff bathroom and locking it behind them. “I love him.” She said through gritted teeth, crossing her hands over her chest, looking away. “And after everything I did, I think he still loves me too.”

“After everything you- Ash do you hear yourself?” Freddie takes a deep breath, steadying himself, holding her shoulders, “He start an affair with you, his student, refuse to be seen with you in public, and used his power within the faculty to kick you out of school when you wanted to stop-”

“I only wanted to stop because I found out he was engaged when his fiance found out about me!” Ash cried, as if it were somehow her fault. Freddie actually stepped back.

“Found out about you- He was engaged?!” He whispered, eyes wide and horrified. “Darling that’s nowhere near being your fault. He had a whole town calling you a slut and a homewrecker; he didn’t love you, he ran you out of Scotland.” 

“He ran me out of Fife.” She spits back the correction. “I would know, I was there.” But she doesn’t seem to connect to the words he’s saying, it’s as if she’s replayed the events in her head so many times that she’s become desensitised to it. “But he’s changed, I was practically a kid last time, I’m different now too. And if he didn’t love me then,” she looks a little hurt as she says it, and Freddie doesn’t know if he wants to hug her or shake some sense into her, “well I think he does now.” After a beat she ducked her gaze, voice becoming a weary sigh as she leaned against the counter. “Listen, Freds, I’ll keep him out of the bar, you won’t have to see him, but this is my life.”

“Don’t make the same mistake again-”

“He’s told me that Kira’s his ex-fiance, so I don’t think she’ll be a problem.” Ash rolled her eyes at Freddie, who opened his mouth to protest that that wasn’t the point, but she added. “Can you get Roger to shut up? I’m sick of hearing him bitching.” 

“Did something happen between you two?” Is what Freddie finally finds himself asking.

“I could get used to this.” Roger grins at her when she brings him a cup of tea in the warm light of the late morning, a book under one of her arms. She keeps using the mug with the cat faces on it for him, he’s started calling it ‘his mug’ and maybe she’s started calling it that too in her mind.

“Yeah, well don’t. You can get your own tea next time.” Ash laughed, sitting up beside in bed, cradling her own tea in one hand, pulling out the book with the other.

“Just show me where everything is, I think I could manage.” Roger chuckles, putting his free arm around her where she’s sat back against the headboard. “What are you reading?” Looking at him with a little surprise, Ash smiles slightly, taking a big gulp of tea, putting the mostly full cup on the bedside table before tucking herself against him, opening up the book.

“I found it in the common room, it’s one of those trashy romance novels,” after a beat, she closed the book, keeping her place with her finger, showing him the cover, where a woman was posing sensuously with a hand on a beautifully painted horse, “but I think she fucks the horse.” Roger snorts at that, his arm tightening around her just a little.

He doesn’t have an answer, just laughs, reading with her when she opens the book back up. It’s soft and domestic, her head on his chest as they both read the novella, sipping their tea on occasion. The blinds are down, but there’s still stripes of light peeking through, hitting the floor with golden light and the room feels warm and hazy. They stay like that for a long while, Roger actually becomes rather engrossed in the story, and when Ash shifts to lean over and take a sip of her tea, he takes the book to read ahead a few lines. When she turns back, she just watches him for a moment, a fond smile slowly spreading over her face, and when he finally looks up, realised he was caught, she leans forward, pressing a kiss to his lips, sweet, her hand coming up to cup his cheek, and when she pulls back, he’s smiling back at her, a little confused.

“What was that for?” He grinned, and Ash shrugged, ducking her head to hide her blush.

“I dunno, maybe the book got me going.” She lied easily, and Roger’s expression turns a little unreadable, though it’s clear he doesn’t believe her.

“We weren’t even up to the hot part!” He countered, and Ash laughed, taking the book from him, but he stays holding it, lets himself be pulled with it until he’s meeting her for a kiss, his hand on her wrist when he lets go of the book to move up her arm and start sliding off her dressing gown. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Yeah, Ash had thought, I could get used to this.

“Hello, Ash?” In the present, Freddie waves a hand in front of her face. Ash’s expression soured as her chest began to ache.

“No, okay? Nothing happened between us, Freddie. Roger’s just being a bitch.”

the ususal suspects: @deakydickfanpage @hollyissuchahoe  @laueecakee@smittyjaws @crystalshines2909 @i-am-sarah @legendsaresooftenwarnings@2ptonpt @benhardy24-7 @maiilovely @mickey-yr-a-goner @butter-times@heyyouitskay @tired-eyes-fairy-lights​ @yepimthatperson @missieluvsmurder @ironqueen98 @ceruleanrainblues ​ @banhbao329 @fantasticchaoticwho @ko-kitty @seven-seas-of-hi @mimisfangirlfantasy @aadjuric @rogmobile @cardybenhardy

[transmasc-malleus]

Hey uhhhhh rant time

Sorry I’m on mobile so no read more

Living in this house is literally killing us. I didn’t think it would be this bad but we’re both sinking into a depression. My gf never goes downstairs and would rather starve herself than interact in any capacity with my grandma. I don’t blame her. I’m at the point where I’m resenting HER for things my grandma caused. I’m bitter that I’m the one who has to deal with it all, who has to fight her to eat, who has to cook and clean and beg her to leave the house. But I know it’s not her fault. This is her way of coping with an impossible situation, a situation she moved half a country away from when she left home. And here she is dealing with it again, except she’s actually afraid to speak back bc she fears the rest of the house will hate her. And I feel the same. It’s not worth my mental and emotional well-being to argue with my grandma or even just try to shut her down. It’ll just cause more problems. But having to sit there as she TRIES to rile me up, tries to get me to fight, tries to hurt me with what she says....is almost worse. The manipulation and the hurtful things she says, the way she aggressively dismisses me and acts like I’m an idiot. I just can’t anymore.

I don’t even want to hang out with my dad anymore bc all I talk about is how I can’t deal with her and it’s not fair to him when he KNOWS all this. But his only solution- one that only works for him cause she actually respects him somewhat- is to ignore her or shut it down. But unless I lose all of my self control, which I will one day, I’ll never be able to get the words out bc I’ve been conditioned not to through abuse. But now she’s threatening things that have no way of understanding her. Angrily suggesting I declaw my cat bc she acts like a living being instead of a stuffed cat. Yelling at my cat at every turn. Blaming every small thing on my cat bc I’m never around enough for her to blame things on me. Having her act like we don’t contribute to the household bc in her eyes “we’re selfish” for not always cooking dinner for everyone, or for wanting certain food to be ours only. I’m at my fucking wits end with her. But my gf is becoming too depressed to even leave the house. And it fucking infuriated me that she feels trapped in this tiny room because my grandma can’t learn to give us even a hint of respect. The fact that the woman I love has to stay confined and starving bc it’s too triggering for her to listen to the shit my grandma spews. The fact that the woman I love is having psychotic breakdowns again bc of the stress being in this shit hole causes her. It makes me want to pack up our shit and tell my grandma to go fuck herself and never talk to me again.

But we don’t have the money, we don’t have the means. So we’re stuck here. We’re stuck here and no one understands why we want to move out so desperately. I just want to scream that it’s all her fault and that I wish she had never had the chance to even interact with me as a child. I want to get angry and MAKE her understand that this has nothing to do with my gf and I. It’s not that we’re “too sensitive” or think we’re “special snowflakes” it’s HER and her fucking inability to give a single shit about anyone but herself. It’s her and her beef with us bc we don’t agree on anything. It’s her and her narcissism. Her and her abuse. Just like it was HER fault that I wanted to kill myself- I was just too blind and too manipulated by her to truly see it. She always blamed me so it must’ve been my fault. It must’ve been my selfishness. I must’ve wanted to tear the family apart. But not fucking anymore. Im not going to let ANYONE on this fucking house tell me how to deal with her. I’m not gonna let them tell me that I’m being unreasonable or passive aggressively act like I’m the bad guy. Im not gonna let my uncle make me feel bad for treating her with the same respect she gives me. I’m not gonna let my dad tell me “he wishes I could just learn to ignore her”. I’m fucking done I’m over it. We pay rent. There is not fucking reason we should be treated like children getting a free pass through housing.

There’s no reason I should have to shut my mouth and clench my fists to suit her needs. No reason I should have other people shut down what I’m saying bc “I just wanna start shit.” I should’ve gave to seeth in anger and start shaking from anxiety just to keep the peace. Why should I placate her when she starts every. Single. Thing. Why should I be the one to suffer because she can’t fucking shut her mouth for one fucking second if people aren’t paying enough attention to her. Why should I just let her call me fat and sensitive and just take her abuse? Why do I have to feel like I should be ashamed? Why am I ashamed to stand up to her? I just don’t know how much longer until I snap and then I really become the bad guy because I’ll go at her without any restraint. How much longer until I can’t take it anymore and I scream and cry in her face laying out everything she’s done to hurt me and keep me in my place only to have her call my a snowflake and go running to my dad? How long until I’m the one whose asked if it was worth it and I’ll feel too afraid to say yes. Dad said to my gf that he would choose me over him mom every time. He would kick her out before he would ever dream of kicking me out. But honestly. I don’t know if I believe that. I don’t know if I can trust my dad to have my back. And that fucking hurts. It hurts to feel like I’m always the bad guy by default. That I’m always the one escalating. It hurts that I get blamed for my reaction to her. That it’s ok for her to act this way bc she’s old and she won’t change. I don’t deserve this. My gf doesn’t deserve this. And I’m fucking done. I won’t placate anyone’s feelings. I won’t let her stomp walk all over me bc she knows I won’t do anything. I don’t care anymore. If I’m seen as the bad guy, if I’m seen as the instigator. I don’t fucking care. I’m doing this for me. I’m the only one whose gonna stand up for myself in this house. And if that causes tension? Fuck it. I don’t deserve to live in constant fear and anxiety. If that makes everyone else uncomfortable they can go fuck themselves for letting it get this far. I’m not gonna take it anymore. From now on I’m not fucking around. Im gonna take that anger and I’m gonna let her feel it. Let her know that she’s a monster that made me like this. I don’t deserve this.

[stoopsbookstore]

Case Opened (Part 1)

Warnings - Murder, blood, an attack

Pairing - Lawyer!Jeonghan x Forensics Expert!Y/N

"The case between Im v. The People ended today. Im Changkyun won with the help of local star lawyer, Yoon Jeonghan. This comes as a piece of good news for Yoon, as his company's building, The Pledis Firm burnt down last month, causing him to share office space with the rival law firm, YG Law. 'We have a good team on our hands,' Yoon said on his way out, 'We fought for justice and we rightfully earned my client a win.' Im was charged with 3 cou-"

Y/N grabbed the clicker and shut off the TV. Jeonghan spun around in his chair, throwing his legs up on the table, catching the attention of the expert.

"Just because your old office burnt down and you have to work here now doesn't mean you get to put your feet on everything," she pushed his feet off the surface, "this isn't your house."

Jeonghan stood up, "well, your boss said something about this casa is our casa. Just because you have a hatred towards my career doesn't mean you get to treat me and my workers like shit"

"Just because-"

"Y/N, Jeonghan! My office. Now." The boss shouted out into the office. The two glared at each other before sulking into Yang's office.

"I've heard you two seem to have not become used to the change," the two started to argue over each other until they hear a fist hit the desk, "I want you two to work this case. A man, Tukhui, was murdered. His nephew, Lee Chan, got the shit beaten out of him by an unknown assailant, but the fuckhead left a some marks on Lee that Y/N should be able to get some information about. Yoon, the kid wants to meet you at the hospital tomorrow, so he can go about suing someone."

"But he can't if we don't have a sus-"

"Well, I guess you better get acquainted with Miss Y/N's office to strengthen your case, now shouldn't you, Yoon?"

Before either party could object to the arrangement, Yang dismissed them.

"I'll show you where my office is, don't touch anything, don't move anything, just sit in the corner and look pretty."

Jeonghan chuckled, "so you admit I look good."

"Shut the hell up and get in the elevator."

As soon as the doors closed, Jeonghan turned to Y/N.

"Do you still hate me?"

"Why would I hate you? It's not like you and I were detectives together and then the second you got a job offer at Kim-Dong Firm with that Heechul and Sicheng, you turned your back on others."

"Like who?"

"Hoshi, Woozi, Seungcheol," Y/N barely whispered a 'me' before she continued her rant, "I'm pretty sure Dokyeom still has the punch buddy with your face in it."

The silence from Jeonghan was deafeaning. An awkward elevator ride from Floor 13 to Ground Floor, Jeonghan decided to take a look at the case file.

"Witnesses saw a man, ranging from 5'9" to 6' at the scene, running from the scene. Bystander effect, some claim as the reason they didn't do shit. Chan scratched the guy and the guy got him a few good times, all DNA evidence is being sent to you as we speak."

"Thanks, Yoon."

The two stepped out of the elevator and walked down the hallway to Y/N's office.

"Remember the rules?"

"Yes, mother," Jeonghan mocked.

"Didn't realize you were into that," Y/N said as she unlocked the forensics office.

As Jeonghan pushed past his brand new partner, he looked around the space, seeing the computers set up and a small bed in the corner.

"What's with the cuddle corner?" Jeonghan sprawled out on the bed, making himself comfortable.

Hesitating, Y/N tried to snark back, "some late nights plus no caffeine equals a tiny cot in the corner. Any more questions?"

Jeonghan noticed the bitterness in the girl's voice and sunk into the bed, awaiting the results. He pulled out his phone to take another look at the case.

"Lee Chan, 19 years old, brutally attacked, scratches and cuts all over his body. It's assumed he was supposed to murdered instead of his uncle. His uncle, Lee Tukhui, has stabbed right in the temple, protecting Chan. Chan's memory was foggy as the police arrived on the scene, so I don't know how he's gonna be ok to sue someone tomorrow."

Jeonghan got up from the cot and walked over to Y/N's computer.

"What's all this jumbo?"

"Running the DNA from under Lee's fingers, comparing to his own and his uncle to cancel them out. Make sure it wasn't a case of self-defense."

As the computer was almost done, the power went out and Jeonghan screamed.

"Really Yoon? I wouldn't think a big badass lawyer like yourself would be scared of a little darkness," Y/N fake-pouted, "give it a few minutes, the emergency lights will turn on."

"Excuse me, Fingerprint Princess, you never know what's in the dark and you can't ever be too su-"

The lights had cut to reveal the bloodied body of a woman on the floor. She had been stabbed in the stomach and her shirt was ripped. A note was in her hand.

"Hello, Y/N and Jeonghan.

I'm pleased to announce that the beginning of my game has started. You have 14 days to figure out who I am or I'll get away. I want to test your skills. Lee Chan was supposed to be the first victim, but that bastard Tukhui had to play hero. I'm sad to see Miss Yoori go, she was so pretty, her body was right and the way she fucked could send a guy to Heaven. Shows her right for trusting the wrong guy.

Remember 14 days.

Day one down.

Signed,

Eros."

Y/N looked at Jeonghan, "Call 911, get Hoshi and Seungkwan down here to canvas the scene. Don't fucking touch a thing."

(E/N) Too many series to be done 😣 This was supposed to be a Lawyer!Jeonghan, but I promise there will be Lawyer!Jeonghan in the story. I also will have a chapter of Daggers up soon, I know I've been saying that, but better later than never. I might make a Lawyer!Jeonghan smut totally unrelated to this soon.

[zillanewt]

Merc With A Trashmouth

Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three // Chapter Four

summary: Despite growing up in Derry together, the two boys went down two very different paths. Richie is the world’s most notorious mercenary and assassin, while Eddie is none other than New York’s sweetheart - the literal poster boy for bringing justice to baddies without unaliving them. This is the self-indulgent spideypool!reddie au that literally nobody asked for. 

pairing: reddie

words: 1.2K

warnings: gratuitous cussing (bc this is deadpool!richie ofc), non-graphic violence (again, deadpool au), mentions of child abuse (it’s only one or two lines)

A/N: wow so idk if ive ever told yall, but im such a huge marvel fanboy and this is a fucking pleasure to write. ok so Richie’s backstory on how he became a mercenary is very vague for a reason, because nobody is actually sure of Deadpool’s backstory in canon, soooo. There’s also quite a bit of fourth wall breaking because Deadpool. I feel like this kinda sucks and is a little underdeveloped, so please let me know what you think! Please message me if you would like to be added to the taglist!

Kids who left Derry were fucking strange. But that wasn’t saying much when those who stayed were either absorbed into the evil cogwork of the town’s sinister behaviors or abducted by a demonic sewer clown.

Though, none of these things truly mattered to Richie Tozier.

He supposes he would’ve been strange even if his parents hadn’t even birth to him in that shithole town. Besides, he’s 95% sure all that Pennywise shit happened in another universe, so it’s not like anybody would know what the fuck he’s talking about if he brought it up.

Still, you had to be a special kind of fucked up to be sitting masked in a Toronto bar while a man offers you money to kill another man.

“There are important business transactions happening here, so you won’t get my tragic backstory quite yet, sweetheart.”

The man sitting across from Richie looks confused, yet unsurprised that the mercenary is speaking to thin air. There are always whisperings about how crazy the man is, so nobody expects him to be any less than completely psychotic. If you walked away from a conversation with him without a bullet in any of your limbs, it could be considered a complete success.

“We have an offer for you,” the man said in a low voice, sliding a manila folder across the table. “High-pay target. We suspect him to be Spider-Man. He has been interfering with our drug rings in New York.”

The second Richie opened the file, his heart was hit with a pang of worry, then a wave of rage. In small black typed letters was “Eddie Kaspbrak,” then stamped over in a bright bold red were the words “TERMINATE.” There’s going to be hell to pay for whoever thought this would be a funny April Fools joke to pull on him.

“No,” he growled, tossing the file back onto the table. “He’s from Derry. This guy couldn’t even complete a lap in gym class. What in the fuck makes you think he could possibly Spider-Man?!”

The man instantly shrinks back from Richie’s yelling, slightly in fear for his life.

“People change, Tozier,” the man reasons, then chooses to go for the low blow. “You did, didn’t you?”

Every patron in the bar eavesdropping knew the comment was a mistake and so did the man, as regret instantly washed over him and his face paled. He took those few quiet seconds to silently say goodbye to his limbs.

“Get out,” he mumbled very quietly, almost like a hurt teenager.

“What?”

“Get out!!” he yelled at full volume now, not holding anything back. Sure, he killed people for a living, but damn...he still had feelings.

The man quickly gathered his belongings, sweeping Eddie’s file into his arms. His breathing stopped when Richie placed a crushing grip on his arm.

“Leave Kaspbrak’s file with me,” Richie demanded, determining the amount of pressure it would take to break this guy’s arm.

“I can’t do that Mr. Tozier! My boss will kill me,” the man said panicked but gave in when Richie began applying said pressure. “Ow! Ow! Ok! Ok! Take it! Just please don’t hurt me!”

As soon as he handled the file over, Richie let go, but he wasn’t quite satisfied yet. Before the frightened man could run away, he whipped out his gun.

“One more thing, Mrrr…” Richie said very calmly, a complete contradiction to his behavior only seconds ago.

“Reynolds,” the man whimpered, not taking his eyes off the gun in Richie’s hands.

“Mr. Reynolds,” Richie began, putting the barrel of the gun against the man’s forehead, in between the eyebrows. “You tell whoever the fuck you’re working for that nobody touches Eddie Kaspbrak or every single one in your filthy operation will become very familiar with my good friends here.” He gestures to his guns and the twin katanas strapped to his back.

“We Gucci?”

The man whimpers and nods, fleeing from the bar as soon as Richie puts his gun away.

“God,” Richie giggles, “they are so fun to scare.”

Sitting in this dirty bar, he realizes now he has Eddie’s information, but he’s not sure what to do with it. They haven’t talked in a good 10 years, and he’s not even sure Eddie would even care about him anymore.

It’s not like anybody really does.

But, some crazy part of him is screaming at him to find his childhood best friend and love.

“Uhhh no,” Richie says to no one in particular. “Eddie probably has a perfect life and family, and we kill people for a living.”

Would Eddie hate him if he knew who he grew up to be? Would he be disgusted? Would he find out what’s under this mask and be horrified?

It’s times like these he wishes he still had Stan to be his voice of reason. But then again, if that were reality, Richie wouldn’t be “the Merc with a Mouth.” He’d just be regular old “Trashmouth,” like he was when they were kids.

Constantly, he lays awake at night due to the pain and wonders whether his life would’ve been different if he didn’t move from Derry when he was 15. There was nothing Richie wanted to do more than stay with Eddie, but his father was relocated Canada. Though, that sounds like a relatively safe place to be, right?

It should’ve been, but his parents just would never stop fighting. It wasn’t that bad back in Derry, but the move put too much stress on them and they all snapped in their own ways. Mrs. Tozier yelled at her husband and son whenever she got drunk (which was quite often). Richie’s dad decided to take his anger out on his “idiot son” and would throw Maggie’s empty bottles at him.

Richie?

Well, Richie was a teenager. There was nothing else to do, but fall in with the wrong people and turn to violence. The violence provided money, which was his ultimate independence from the disaster of the Tozier household.

Truthfully, he doesn’t remember much else, due to his state of mental health. All he knows is that he now owns a full arsenal and always has weapons strapped to him, like a fucking lunatic.

And to think, just ten years ago he and the Losers were spitting loogies at the quarry and telling ghosts stories about “Pennywise the Dancing Clown.” Richie was at least glad he didn’t exist in the universe where that stupid clown actually tortured and tormented them. He didn’t need any more problems.

Carefully, he opened the file and looked at the picture of Eddie. This is him at 25, and he’s just as amazing as he was when they were kids. His skin is sun-kissed like it always was when they were younger. He still has all those freckles on his face. There’s a woman with him in the picture, probably his wife or girlfriend, kissing him on the cheek as he laughs.

Richie should be more bitter Eddie has all this - the beauty and a happy life - while Richie has literally nothing, but he just simply can’t be. He remembers how much Eddie struggled when they were kids, as his mother continually manipulated him and the Bowers gang constantly beat on him, but he was always kind to other people. If anybody deserves to be happy, it’s Eddie Kaspbrak.

And if Eddie really is Spider-Man, then Richie would truthfully be impressed and slightly aroused because he’s seen how tight that spandex is.

Maybe, it’s time to pay his old friend a visit….just to make sure no goons try to whack him off.

[blatherkatt]

Title: The Calm Is Terrifying When The Storm Is All You Know [Homestuck]

Chapter 33: Declarations 

Summary: There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Implied/Mentioned abuse, mentions of terrorism, death mention, injury mention, depiction of an emotional breakdown, trauma aftermath; Illustrated; Pesterlog

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— carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling tipsyGnostalgic [TG] —

CG: WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?

— tipsyGnostalgic [TG] is an idle chum! —

CG: FUCK YOU, I CAN SEE THAT FOR MYSELF, YOU PIECE OF SHIT PROGRAM. I’M GONNA FUCKING YELL ANYWAY.

CG: I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO PICK ME UP AT NOON. IT’S LIKE, 1:30 AND YOU STILL AREN’T HERE, WHAT GIVES?

CG: IF YOU GOT KIDNAPPED, TOO, I SWEAR TO FUCK I’M PERSONALLY PUTTING THIS ENTIRE GODDAMN FAMILY UNDER PERMANENT WATCH.

CG: I’M NOT ABOVE SITTING ON YOU ASSHOLES IF THATS WHAT IT TAKES.

TG: okay first off i know youre like a literal alien but heres a protip for ya:

TG: general human earth etiquette is to not text people who you know are probably driving?

TG: its like a whole thing

CG: WHY

TG: idk probs because texting while driving’s a great way to fucking crash lol

TG: anyway!!

TG: yeah im real sorry about that mom fucking rang me up like

TG: hi im at the airport come get me!

TG: out of fucking nowhere because everything has to be a fucking hassle with this woman

TG: so i had to go get her

CG: WHY THE FUCK WAS SHE AT THE AIRPORT?

TG: because fuck me is why

TG: and THEN shes like

TG: ooooh i gotta do some mysterious whatthefuckever errand at some mall out in the middle of nowhere

TG: so now im sitting in the parking lot waiting for her to get back which might be a while because her bad leg’s been acting up lately

TG: and thats why im not there yet >:(

CG: WAIT. WAIT, HOLD ON, I’M CONFUSED.

CG: BY “MOM” ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT RACHEL? I DIDN’T EVEN THINK SHE HAD A BAD LEG.

TG: nonono

TG: ray is like. dirk and dave and rose’s mom

TG: i dont call her mom i just call her aunt ray cuz shes not my mom yknow

TG: my mom is aunt ray’s sister

TG: aunt ramona? they talk about her?

CG: OOOOOOH. YEAH.

CG: THE WOMAN WHO WRITES THOSE SHITTY SUPERNATURAL ROMANCE BOOKS KANAYA LOVES.

TG: hahaha yeah her trashy shit is great

CG: SHE’S HERE?

TG: apparently!!!!!!!!

CG: I’M SENSING SOME BITTERNESS.

TG: ugh its fine she just always does shit like this

TG: womans always gotta make a fuckin entrance even if that means not telling anyone shes coming

TG: and its goddamn annoying as shit!!

TG: but its fine i get it shes here to help out and we are kinda all hands on deck

TG: speaking of tho i heard something about kanaya not coming along after all?

CG: NOT YET, NO.

CG: SHE’S BEEN TALKING TO ROSE, AND APPARENTLY DAVE’S BEEN PRETTY UNEASY WITH THE NUMBER OF NEW FACES AT THE HIVE.

CG: HOUSE. WHATEVER.

CG: TEREZI’S PROTECTION DETAIL HAS HIM KIND OF ON EDGE, I GUESS?

CG: SHE’S GONNA COME AROUND LATER PROBABLY. AND MIGHT END UP STAYING WITH PORRIM AND KEEP IT TO VISITS, AT LEAST UNTIL THINGS SETTLE DOWN A BIT.

CG: SO IT’S JUST ME FOR NOW.

TG: ooooh yeah geez i bet

TG: poor dave :( :( :(

TG: i gotta tell you and mom some uh. serious shit about him when i pick you both up

TG: id pass it on here but its probs better if i just tell you face to face?

CG: OH, WONDERFUL!

CG: MORE NO DOUBT HORRIFIC NEWS REGARDING DAVE.

CG: I CAN’T WAIT. THIS PANIC ATTACK’S GONNA BE ONE FOR THE RECORD BOOKS, I CAN JUST FEEL IT!!!

TG: :(

TG: tl;dr hes not in great shape but hes getting better but theres some stuff we gotta go over

TG: jfc mom what the fuck are you doing its been ages

CG: SO WAIT. SHE JUST HAD YOU DRIVE HER OUT SOMEWHERE AND WALKED OFF ALONE?

TG: yeah

TG: woman can take care of herself just fine so like im not worried??

TG: but still, like. cmon woman!!! whatever it is hurry up a little

TG: it cant be that important we got places to be

In terms of location, it was almost an outlet mall; somewhat detached from the nearest city and surrounded by forest. It was mostly all one building, positioned in a dip in the ground next to a clear stream, and these features had helped make it a serviceable fortress during the invasion, although Derek had regularly complained that he’d have preferred a site that held the high ground. Still, they’d made do; the roof was high enough that one could see for quite some distance, the stream offered fresh water, the trees provided decent enough cover during skirmishes, and the walls were thick enough to turn away most weather and weapons. It hadn’t been much, but it had served well enough as home for six years for around threescore ragtag survivors-turned-fighters.

Out in the surrounding forest, those who hadn’t survived that conflict still lay buried in pitiful graves marked only with a stone or a chunk of wood. There hadn’t been time to properly put anyone to rest; it had been risky enough for two or three people to slip out during a stretch of quiet with a shovel and a body. They simply hadn’t been able to afford to have any sort of formal burial, not with the threat of an attack constantly looming.

Even so, even so…

Derek had picked a spot he would remember.

In life, the oak tree would have been the kind people would have thought of as a monarch, with branches spread wide and gnarled wood ancient and strong, holding children in its branches as easily as if they were made of nothing; but the tree had already been dead by the time the invasion started, a great, ancient, dried-out husk. Even so, decades later, it still stood, its branches reaching toward the sky, the other trees forming a circle around it as though too respectful to come too close. Mushrooms and trails of greenery crept about a quarter of the way up the ancient trunk.

At its roots, a rotting wooden spar stuck up out of the ground. This, too, had been reclaimed by flowers, grasses and mushrooms, decorating the splintered and decayed timber with dark summer greens and pale white-and-lavender blooms.

Derek Strider, down on one knee with his sheathed sword held in his right hand, sighed. Of course, the trouble with having to bury the dead so hastily meant that there’d been no one to look over the graves, so it was to be expected that it be in such disrepair, but even so, seeing this one choked out by the invading flora was…

It wasn’t right.

Overhead, the ancient branches rustled slightly, and the raucous calling of a bird broke the silence. Derek narrowed his eyes and ignored it, tried to write the disrespectful noise out of the scene.

The crow seemed to have other ideas. The bird lighted down on the wooden grave marker, red eyes fixed on Derek’s face. It flapped its wings a few times, cawing incessantly. Derek scowled, unsheathed his sword, and struck —

The blade passed through the bird with no resistance whatsoever. The creature’s body split in two, bloodlessly, as though Derek had cut through smoke — it even looked like smoke, like a cloud cut in two by a passing jet. As Derek looked on, uncomprehending and with a growing sense of dread, the bird’s body seemed to pull itself back together, a video played in reverse, and the bird’s accusatory squawks started up again as though nothing had happened.

Derek was on his feet in an instance, stepping away from the beast, and as he did, he happened to look up…

Perched on nearly every branch of the old tree were ravens. Unlike the crow, they were all silent, and aside from the occasional shifting of a foot or tilting of a head, motionless. Scores of staring animal eyes bored into him.

Derek had never been a superstitious man, but nor was he the sort of fool to ignore the truth his own eyes showed him. He’d spent six years fighting alongside a witch, and seen enough to learn that some things really couldn’t be explained away as coincidence.

Had it been anyone else, he would have responded to the sound of footsteps approaching this site with a furious attack; even Ben knew better than to disturb him here. But when he whirled to face the intruder, he froze.

She’d aged more since he’d last seen her than he would have expected. Hints of silver streaked her hair, and she leaned heavily on her gnarled black cane. A faint breeze stirred the black fabric of her dress, playing with the light shawl laying across her shoulders. The crow had fallen silent.

“Put that thing away before you take someone’s eye out,” said Ramona, nodding nonchalantly at Derek’s sword.

Derek narrowed his eyes, and did not respond aloud, instead choosing to slowly and deliberately slide the sword back into its sheathe. Only after his left hand had returned to his side did Ramona nod and continue.

“That’s better,” she said. “Now we can talk things over like reasonable adults. Mind you, I ought to do the world a favor and wipe you out right now,” and Derek took a slow, deep breath at that, as she continued, “But I’d prefer not to desecrate your brother’s grave by staining it with your blood. I respect him far too much for that. You, however, have somehow managed to exceed all of my worst expectations to a nearly unfathomable degree, as of late. I’ve held off on this confrontation out of respect for the past, but I can see now that this was a mistake.”

Derek shifted. “Everything I’ve done has been to protect our damn planet, Ramona,” he started, but was cut off.

“Really?” she said, “Well, then. I’m not about to attempt to ask you to cease killing trolls, as we both know that would be pointless, but I would very much like to know how exactly burning your own son alive plays into your grand battle strategy?”

“He…he turned on us,” Derek said, through gritted teeth, “He forced my hand, left me no choice!”

“He is a child!” Ramona snapped. “And you, of all people, should know better! If you really must follow this path of self-destruction to its end, fine, but he should never have been involved!”

“I—”

“And in any case, you had a perfectly good sword on hand, I’m sure. If young Dave really did need to die, you could have executed him with minimal pain, but no, you wanted him to hurt, to know he was dying and to fear you and suffer as he passed. How do you justify that, Derek? How does anyone, especially a child, deserve anything of the sort?”

The eyes of the ravens and that damned crow still drilled into him. He could feel the stares on his back, but kept his eyes locked on Ramona’s, refusing to back down.

He wasn’t going to take back what he’d done. There’d be no guilt, he’d done nothing wrong except overreact a bit. It was justified. That…that boy wasn’t Dave. Ramona was using the name like a blade, but she’d not win that way. He didn’t deserve the fucking name, didn’t deserve to have anything to do with Dave, he never would have let Rachel name the kid that if he’d known he was going to grow up to be such a pathetic, useless little coward.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he said.

“No, I suppose you don’t,” said Ramona, folding her hands over the top of her cane. “I’ve a fairly good idea, in any case.” She sighed. “The war is over, Derek. The time to put aside this violence and misery is long since behind us. Our children do not deserve to grow up as we did.”

“The trolls are still here,” Derek spat.

There was a long silence. Ramona sighed again.

“Fine, then,” she said, “So be it. Do as you will. Chase violence as long as you like. But if you come near my family again, I will consider it an act of war.”

She turned, and he was tempted to take the bait, to try attacking her while her back was turned, but he held still. It was infuriating, knowing what a pointed insult turning her back on him was, knowing that she knew he would not risk attacking her—but she was right. She was much too dangerous.

“Come along, little one,” she said, abruptly. The crow rose off the grave and flew to land on top of Ramona’s cane. If Derek had cared to pay any attention, he might have noticed the crow look back at him with something like regret in its eyes, but Derek was already far too lost in his own thoughts.

As one bird, the ravens took wing, dispersing in all directions, leaving him alone again.

The trouble with trying to go from Alternian to English was a multifaceted one, to be sure, but so far the most obnoxious piece of it that Karkat could see was the tendency of guides on how to speak English to simply use the closest Alternian equivalent as an English word’s translation. More and more, the two languages were notably extremely different, and while he could speak English well enough that he’d never had any serious problems, there were any number of words that he kept tripping over as a result of a translation being extremely unclear and culturally misleading.

Witches, for instance, were clearly something very different on Earth. The Alternian word that was translated to English as “witch” was, like most Alternian words, a series of noises in the ‘click and growl’ family that most humans lacked the anatomy to create, and generally refered to certain lowblood prophets and healers in Alternian folklore. They were those who lived away from society and who, through some lucky genetics and convenient psychic powers, were able to fend of drones and effectively disappear from the world at large’s knowledge. They kept to themselves, sought to harm no one who didn’t attack them first, offered shelter to the weak and the hunted, and as such were always portrayed as utterly despicable beings in fiction, as no writer with any sense of self-preservation had dared to portray such reckless treachery under the rule of the last Condesce. There might have been some changes to the lore under the new one’s rule, but things like that changed slow.

In any case, they certainly weren’t anything like the old woman in a shawl who was sitting next to Roxy in the front of her car.

She was dressed all in black, for one thing. Alternian witches didn’t tend to wear much black. Some Alternian witches didn’t tend to wear all that much clothing at all, really. Most seemed to belong to ancient religions that weren’t particularly fond of shirts.

Ramona was definitely magic as shit, though, Rachel’d been right about that much. Was that all a witch was on Earth, just someone with magic? Fuck, if that were the case, then probably like at least a third of all trolls were witches by Earth’s standards. Then again, maybe magic was another poorly translated word? English didn’t seem to have a word to separate “things that we (read: trolls) know exist, like psychic powers and psiionics and ghosts and chucklevoodoos,” and “things that are super fake and don’t actually happen ever and make no sense.”

Whatever. In any case, Ramona didn’t look at all like Karkat had expected, and when he climbed into the back of the car, she didn’t react to his presence with anything stronger than an amiable nod. She seemed to have her mind on other things, and was largely silent at first.

Roxy wasn’t; she immediately piped up happily as Karkat swung open the door with a “Hey, man! Sorry about taking so long! Can you, uh, do me a favor and check on Jaspers? He’s in the carrier behind Mom, Rose asked me to pick him up while she and Aunt Ray were gone. He’s been missing them a lot, all staring out the window and kneading his blanket and shit, and he’s not a huge fan of car rides.”

“He’s asleep,” Karkat said after glancing into the little crate.

“Awesome. Alright, buckle up and we’ll get this damn show on the road.”

“On the road again, just can’t wait to get on—”

Karkat tilted his head as the car’s radio abruptly changed from quietly playing some human pop song over to something much louder and completely different. Ramona stifled a snort as Roxy stabbed a button, switching the radio back to the previous channel.

“No, thank you,” she said, glaring. “Christ, the fuck is with this thing today, I swear to god.”

“I suppose it may simply be getting into the spirit of things,” said Ramona with a smile. As the car pulled away from the curb, she turned back a bit to face Karkat. “It’s Karkat, isn’t it? Rachel’s been sending me any number of emails with updates, and from the sound of things, you’ve been rather instrumental in bringing young Dave back into the fold, so to speak.”

“…Into the what?”

“It’s a figure of speech, meaning in this case that you’ve helped us return him home as well as helping him to adjust to being there,” she said. “For which you have all of our heartfelt thanks. Ours is perhaps not the most functional of families, but it  is ours, and as I’m sure you’ve seen firsthand, ripping away a piece of it the way Derek did has had some very painful consequences for all involved. We owe you a great deal.”

“Yeah, man!” Roxy said. “And from what Rose has been telling me, you were kind of a big part of why he finally spilled what he knows. Which, he did bee-tee-dubs, which means he’s off house arrest finally, so that’s good—”

“—And a partridge in a pear tree,” the radio crackled.

“What the fuck? It’s August,” Roxy scowled. She turned the radio off altogether as Ramona glanced hurriedly out the window.

“Speaking of Dave,” Karkat said, hopefully before anyone got distracted again, “Roxy, you mentioned that there was something that you needed to say face to face?”

“Right, shoot, yeah,” said Roxy. The car turned onto the long road that led eventually to the Lalonde hive. “Okay, so, like. There’s definitely some shit you should know before we get there, but I wanna preface it all real clearly by saying that Dave’s okay, y’know? He’s got a lot of healing to do, but the doctors said that as long as he’s looked after and we change bandages and shit and he gets plenty of rest, he’s definitely not in any danger anymore. He’s…weak, but he’s not like gonna keel over at any moment, okay?”

“Not actually making me feel any better, Roxy!” said Karkat. Oh, boy, with a preface like that…

“Well, fuck, I tried, I guess. Uh. So, Dave did get hurt…pretty bad, and there were some other complications—oh, for fuck’s sake!!”

“Watch me, watch me, hey, watch me, watch me!” The radio was louder than ever. Ramona’s hand flew up, poorly hiding a grin.

Karkat leaned around Roxy’s seat to glare at her.

“What the fuck, Roxy,” said Karkat.

“I’m not doing this!” Roxy said, waving her hand wildly. “I swear to fuck, I wouldn’t! I really do need to pass on some shit about poor Dave, and the radio’s never done this before? It’s been acting up since a little before we picked you up, keeps changing on its own and shit, augh!”

She fought with the controls, but the song stopped only for a moment before getting even louder.

“Why the fuck do you humans even have this obnoxious song?! Who listens to this?? It’s literally just some squawking wiggler screeching for its lusus’s attention!”

“I mean, I kinda love it for that honestly, it’s terrible and stupid and wonderful, but like, come the fuck on??? What’s with this thing?! Now is not the time!”

“Ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass—“

“GOD, that’s even worse!!” Roxy yelled, slamming her fist down on the dashboard. “Fucking stop!!”

“That’s enough for now,” Ramona said, almost murmuring it.

The radio turned off. Karkat and Roxy both turned a suspicious eye on Ramona, and with equal simultaneity, decided to drop it for now.

“Anyway,” Roxy said slowly, “What I was trying to say is, um…Karkat, do you know what it means for someone to ‘flatline?’ Because, um. Dave kinda did, for like, a minute and a half.”

Karkat shook his head, realized Roxy probably couldn’t see him with her eyes on the road, and said, “Uh, I have no idea what that word means, no.”

“Well, um…”

“It refers to a heart monitor indicating that the heart has ceased beating,” Ramona said. “The machine indicates activity with a line which shows peaks and valleys, and it goes flat when that activity has stopped, thus, ‘flatline’. The organ we call a heart serves an equivalent function to what trolls call a ‘blood pusher’ or a ‘pump biscuit.’”

Karkat felt for a moment like his own pump biscuit had stopped.

“Shit, Mom, when did you get so good at translating to trolls?” Roxy murmured.

Ramona shrugged. “I’ve made efforts to reach out,” she said. “The war ended, after all, and since we’re allies now, it doesn’t hurt to learn about each others’ cultures.”

“His fucking—What?!” Karkat screeched, unable to keep the harsh buzzing whine out of his voice. God, that was such a moirail noise, and any other time he’d have yelled at himself for not keeping it under control, but not now, not when… “His fucking blood pusher stopped and I’m supposed to be calm!?!”

“They got it moving again!” Roxy said. “He’s okay now, the doctors said it was going strong! It was, um, mostly just exhaustion, they think? Like, the burn wounds could’ve killed him on their own, sure, but they got on those quick enough that if he’d been healthy to begin with he probably wouldn’t have been so bad off? But between ten years of, you know…and just, apparently he hasn’t been eating enough even while he’s been back with us? And Ray’s gonna get on his ass about that, but, just—look, the thing is, Dirk doesn’t know about this yet, and Aunt Ray’s asked that we try to keep it that way, and I don’t really get why but I think she has her reasons?”

Karkat was definitely hyperventilating, oh fuck, oh fuck—Ramona’s hand reached back to touch his own, snapping him out of it.

“It’s fine to be worried,” she said, gentle. “I promise you, though, it is as Roxy says: he’ll be fine given time to recover and the safety with which to do so. He’ll be alive when we get there.” She sat back in her chair, turning towards the road again. “As for Dirk, I suspect Rachel is waiting for things to settle down before breaking it to him gently. He is, for better or worse, very like his father, and Derek handled his brother’s death poorly, in large part because at the time we could not afford to mourn. Rachel probably wants to make sure that Dirk does not feel he has to force himself to be strong when she tells him.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Roxy muttered. “Anyway, the main thing about that is that he’s not got a lot of energy right now, so don’t…take it personally if he just falls asleep on you sometimes? Especially with the painkillers he’s on, apparently that’s a side effect, too. He can walk short distances, but he gets wobbly quick and needs help sometimes, so there’s that too.”

“Fuck,” said Karkat, softly.

The next ten minutes of the ride were carried out in tense silence. This was broken by the radio once again bursting back on and blasting the ass song again, at which point Roxy threatened to pull over and smash the fucking thing to smithereens.

By the time they actually got to the fucking house, Karkat felt like his soul was going to vibrate right out of his fucking body with impatience. They had yet another delay in the form of Terezi’s protection detail—Terezi herself wasn’t there, but some officers were, and they insisted on knowing about any weapons the three of them had as well as names, and went in to check with the family while making them all wait outside by the car. Karkat already had his fucking bag in hand, he was ready to go, but no, they had to go through this tedious procedure! Sure, it was probably a smart move, and when he was feeling a little more sensible he’d be more okay with it as it was the sort of thing that probably would make them all feel a bit safer (especially poor fucking Dave), but right now the were a pain in the ass and he was going to fucking explode!!! If they didn’t!!! Let him get in the fucking hive!!!!!

Rose stepped out as they were still talking to the police, and for the first time in his life Karkat was unspeakably happy to see her. She quickly confirmed to the police that all three of them were in fact expected and trusted by this household, and then gently let Jaspers out of his carrier. The cat immediately yowled and threw himself into her arms, kneading at her shoulders and rubbing his face against hers, and it all would have been super cute if Karkat didn’t have his mind on other fucking things.

“Come on in,” Rose said, nodding towards the door. “Dirk’s on the couch and Dave’s in Mom’s room, as neither of them can handle stairs right now and Dave needs his bandages changed at least twice a day. Karkat, do you—”

She was talking to air. He was already in the fucking door.

And then had to face the fact that he’d never actually been to Rachel’s room. Fuck. Rachel was coming up the hall, though, and a slightly bewildered young human (wait, fuck, that was Dirk, what happened to his hair? It looked so weird hanging down like that instead of spiked up) was sitting on the couch with an Earth husktop on his lap. Roxy pushed in the door with Ramona right behind her, dropped a heavy wheeled bag right next to the door, and immediately launched herself at Dirk, who gave a startled yelp as she did so.

Rachel rested a hand on Karkat’s shoulder as she passed him, rushing up toward Ramona throwing her arms around her shoulders. The two shared a long hug, and Rachel kissed Ramona’s cheek.

“God, I’m so glad you’re here,” Karkat heard Rachel murmur, before Rose tapped his shoulder.

“I was asking if you knew where Mom’s room is,” Rose said.

“Uh.”

“It’s down the hall to the observatory, but you take a left before you get to it. Make sure to make plenty of noise on the way over, Dave gets really jumpy when he’s the only person in that room. He can’t block the door since we need to be able to come in and out, and it’s got him a bit on edge.”

Karkat nodded, unable to get any words out past the lump in his throat. He more or less just dropped his bag on the ground and pushed past, zooming around toward the room indicated. Dave looked half-asleep when Karkat pushed the door open, and waved as he sat up with some effort.

God, the photo Rose had taken didn’t do justice to how fucking bad he looked. There were bruises across his face and neck turned a weird greenish-gray but still dark against his skin, and bandages everywhere, his hair was a mess (although that might have just been from sleeping). He was in some oversized shirt with an Earth hoofbeast on the front that was probably Dirk’s judging by the size, and Karkat had no idea why Dave had it on but right now he didn’t care.

“Hey, man, uh. Shit’s been crazy, huh?” Dave said with an awkward grin. He didn’t have his shades on either, which made sense if he’d been sleeping, except they weren’t on the bedside table (which did instead contain a nearly empty glass of water, several bottles of pills and salves, and a first aid kit from which clean cloth bandages overflowed).

Two weeks of emotion boiled over all at once. Wordless, Karkat stomped across the room and grabbed Dave’s stupid fucking shirt in both hands and tugged him close.

“It was three days, Dave,” Karkat hissed.

“Wha—?”

“Three days! And you got yourself fucking kidnapped by a terrorist on day goddamn two!! What the fuck, Dave?!” His voice was threatening to abandon him, but Karkat forced it right back into place by sheer willpower. This tangent would not be fucking stopped, hell no. “I take my eyes off of you for two days, and you get yourself into shit again! What the fuck!!! Do you have any idea how-how fucking agonizing it’s been waiting for news?! And you’re just sitting there like ‘Oh, hey! What’s up?’ What’s up is my foot up your waste chute, you hopeless fucking—!” Okay, nope, his voice was leaving after all, actually. He felt tears roll down his face, and he should’ve been more worried about that, but Dave already knew about his blood color and he was the only troll in the house right now, so, fuck it, fuck it all! Helpless, he tugged Dave closer again, letting his face press against that stupid shirt, claws still twisted into the fabric as he sobbed.

“Holy shit,” Dave muttered.

“I was so fucking scared,” Karkat gasped. This was pathetic, they weren’t remotely a couple, Karkat had no right to be this worked up and he knew it, but…Dave wasn’t exactly pushing him away, either, was he?

“I’m sorry, man, I didn’t even…It wasn’t planned this time, it just sorta happened, and Dirk got hurt, and I…”

“I’m not actually angry at you, despite having so much right to be that legislacerators everywhere have preemptively declared me innocent. I’m just fucking screaming for the sake of it, dumbass.”

“Oh.”

The awkward pause that followed was filled with only the sound of Karkat’s weeping, which, fuck, he was probably too fucking embarrassed to tell him off. Except…Dave’s hand lifted up to rest gently against Karkat’s back, so, maybe he didn’t mind that much? Was that wishful thinking?

“Sorry for this,” he said, just in case, as he pulled away a bit. “It’s really fucking embarrassing, I know, I just…”

“It’s cool, man,” said Dave. Then, with a wink, he said, “I know you got your massive Strider homocrush, it’s only natural—”

“Dave, I swear to fuck, injured or not, I will pummel you into dust with a fucking pillow, don’t test me!” Karkat snapped.

Dave snorted. “Hey, man, it’s fine, everyone’s allowed to be a lil gay sometimes with their friends, it’s only natural.”

“I’ll ‘natural’ you!! Motherfucker, I spent the two weeks worrying about your wellbeing and you come at me with more of this bullshit!!”

Dave cackled with laughter. Karkat rolled his eyes and sniffled. He feigned annoyance as best he could, but, God, it was such a relief to hear Dave laugh. Rubbing a sweater sleeve furiously across his eyes, Karkat pulled back, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed. “Okay, but seriously, what’s with the shirt?” he asked, gesturing at the floating head of the hoofbeast. It wasn’t even a joke or a drawing. It was just…a straight photo of a hoofbeast’s face, with no text or explanation of any sort. What the fuck??

Dave glanced down, and snickered. “Oh, shit. Uh, yeah, we needed something that’s easy to get me in and out of, since the bandages on this fuckin’ burn need to be changed like, a lot, not to mention the gross-ass cream they have us slathering all over it on the regular. We tried a button down, but the buttons were kinda chafing, and like…who the fuck wants to ruin a fancy shirt with gross burn juices, right? And Dirk’s shit is more comfortable, and this one’s big enough that it’s real easy to take off even if I’m high on the damn painkillers.”

Karkat winced slightly, but decided not to comment. The scream from the video echoed somewhere in his think pan. “Where’re your shades?”

“Bro fuckin’ stepped on them or something, man, I dunno. They fell off at some point, and they were already cracked before all that, and Terezi just found pieces. Which fucking sucks, I mean God dammit, those were a gift from John. Shit sucks.”

“John?” Karkat tipped his head.

“Yeah, he’s like, an old friend of mine. Have I not mentioned him to you? Whatever, he, uh.” Dave scratched at the side of his head. “He was an online friend from before Bro started doing the, uh, raid shit, and I kept talking to him and another friend, Jade, for a while afterwards even though I wasn’t supposed to?”

“Jade’s name I remember,” Karkat said.

“Haha, yeah, yeah cuz I told you about…anyway.” He cleared his throat. “I guess since Dirk’s college is starting up again soon, not that he’s going for the first couple weeks with his leg and a fucking concussion, but, it’s starting up, and John’s sister goes there too, and he’s gonna come with so we’ll be able to hang out for a bit? Which is fuckin’ rad, I haven’t even talked to the guy in three years and we’re finally meeting in person.”

“You want him to be here? While you’re this badly injured?” Karkat yelped.

Dave blinked at him like he’d just grown a secondary head.

“I mean, yeah?” Dave said. “Like, yeah, I’m not in great shape and I guess it’ll be a lil weird for him to see me like this, but I’ve missed him.” Before Karkat could press the question further, though, Dave yawned. “Ugh, fuck, I wanna keep talking, but I’m…halfway to falling asleep, shit.”

“Oh,” said Karkat. He got up, ready to leave. He wanted to stay, wanted to curl himself around Dave’s obnoxiously lanky frame as best he could and protect this fragile idiot human from the entire universe, but…it wasn’t his place, was it? No.

“You leaving?” said Dave, rubbing at his unbruised eye.

“You said you wanna sleep,” Karkat said.

“Right. Uh. Could you, like…fill this back up for me, then, I guess?” Dave said.

“…Sure,” said Karkat.

He was…still confused, but Dave was tired, so he didn’t press. But he couldn’t wrap his head around wanting a friend around while he was so injured—well, he’d wanted Karkat around, hadn’t he? He’d seemed happy to see him, aside from the, uh, yelling. Still, it didn’t make sense! Every troll knew as a small child that the only people you could trust when you were injured were your lusus, your moirail, and maybe your matesprit! Anyone else might take advantage of the weakness and kill you, that was just basic logic! But Dave didn’t even seem to be thinking about it.

And…and yet, come to think of it, Roxy’d been awfully forthright about how bad Dave’s condition was. Hell, she’d heard it from Rose, who seemed like the one most likely to know not to spread that weakness, but the humans were all sharing it and passing it around. It wasn’t just that they didn’t seem to care who knew that Dave and Dirk were injured, it was like they wanted people to know.

And as he filled up the glass of water in the kitchen, he watched as Roxy and Dirk talked on the couch, as Dirk told her that he’d passed on the news of their condition to Jane already, that Rose had told her and Dave’s friends, and it just kept going. Everyone had to be up to date on the fact that both brothers were injured and vulnerable, and yet…

“I hope the flight wasn’t too long,” Rachel was saying to Ramona.

“Nothing would be too long right now,” she said in turn, blowing gently on a cup of tea that Rachel had just poured her. “Times like these, we all need to do our part. I know I might not be able to do much, mind you. My leg’s been acting up something fierce, as of late, but I’ll do whatever I can.”

Something clicked. All at once, the curtains pulled back and Karkat saw the whole picture—saw maybe not what it always was, and certainly not what the Lalondes achieved on any sort of regular basis, but what it was supposed to be, how it was meant to work.

On Alternia, everyone lived in constant competition. Trolls had to be strong as close to all the time as they possibly could, or at the very least find a moirail who could, because otherwise their society wouldn’t particularly care much if they died. That just meant they didn’t deserve to be a part of the gene pool or to contribute to society. If they were injured badly and left vulnerable, it was seen as normal for others to take advantage of that weakness and exert power or outright kill a rival. It was how they survived so long, or so the cultural narrative had so long stated: by this competition, the strongest survive. Nevermind that this survival was built on the corpses of uncountable trolls who didn’t make the cut, it Worked.

As a result, trolls had been bewildered just as Karkat had by how humans as a species managed to be so frail and yet so reckless and to still survive, especially when they didn’t exactly have the kind of numbers that trolls did. Humans lacked the numbers to be expendable, lacked the strength and toughness that kept Trolls alive, and yet they looked Death in the eye and pointed and laughed, and pushed themselves to extremes for no purpose other than to have some warped idea of fun. It was a question that had lingered around his consciousness for ages; how the fuck do humans even work as a species? How had such a seemingly doomed race not died off yet?

The answer that hit him now, as he watched Roxy help Dirk stand up and balance himself on a pair of crutches, was that humans didn’t have to be strong all the time, and that was the magic of their little social units, their families—they took care of each other. No one person had to be good at everything, or so good at one thing that it could keep them safe in any situation. It didn’t matter that their skin was thin or that they weren’t particularly strong or fast, they always, always had others around who would pick up the slack, others who would come even across oceans to offer what aid they could in times of strife; they weaved together all their strengths and weaknesses into a fabric able to withstand just about anything. Fuck, no wonder they’d wanted Dave back so badly. The Lalondes may have been less a tapestry and more a patchwork quilt, but it was still their quilt, and Dave was a part of it….

He felt a near-agonizing pang of envy that he didn’t have a quilt of his own. Humans might have been stupid about a lot of things, but this…this they’d gotten right.  

“Fucking water? Is that really the best you could think of? Fucking dumbass,” Dave muttered to himself. God. This was stupid. This was all really fucking stupid. He couldn’t even deal with being alone while he was asleep, for Chrissakes! Too scared of nightmares of a big mean dog, like some fuckin’ little kid.

Yeah, he was tired, but he really, really didn’t wanna be alone right now, was the thing. Not with that fucking troll-drug-induced nightmare lingering around the edges, waiting to chase him down again at its first chance. But. Like. Karkat was kind of right? Bros don’t watch each other sleep, that’s fuckin’ creepy. Like. Okay, so maybe they’d done a bit of that way back when Karkat had been kidnapped, but they didn’t have a choice back then, and anyways they mostly slept at the same time during that experience, which was super different from just asking his best alien friend to fuckin’ hold his hand so the  bad dreams wouldn’t get him. Fuck.

So he’d asked Karkat to refill his glass, even though he wasn’t thirsty right now, because it was an excuse to make Karkat come back, at least for a few more minutes, and they could talk for a bit, and maybe Dave’d stop being tired, wouldn’t that be rad.

Karkat came back in looking really thoughtful. He handed the glass over, and Dave took a sip to try and look like he hadn’t been 100% bullshitting there, and mumbled a thanks as he set it down. Then, just as a thought, he jerked his head toward the rest of the bed—it was a big king-sized one, probably left over from before the divorce and Mom had just never downsized or whatever, so there was a lot of space to Dave’s right—and told Karkat he could sit down if he wanted, Dave wasn’t gonna, like, pass out right this minute or anything, haha.

Karkat stayed quiet, which was fuckin’ weird, but he did sit down. He stared at the sheets for a minute, and then spoke up suddenly, saying, “I think I get it.”

“Get what?” said Dave.

“Why they wanted you back so bad,” said Karkat. “I mean, way back when you were first arrested. I kind of fought with Dirk over it at one point, because my only experience with the word Dirk used for why you should be with him was fucking Strider. And also I think I get why this shit all works, for humans in general. I mean, I’m probably just saying obvious shit, but it’s not how trolls work, we don’t take care of each other, not like this.”

Dave tipped his head.

“I mean with the whole fucking family thing,” Karkat said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve been trying to get it this whole time, but this shit’s used to justify so much bullshit with you humans, and I think I get it now, and why it’s so fucking important to you as a species.”

Dave snorted. “Dude, it’s not that big a thing—”

“It is, though! It just seems normal to humans because it’s how you always work, but, Dave, I’m serious, back on Alternia it’s every troll for themself. Maybe you  have one person who has your back if you’ve got a moirail, maybe some are lucky like me and have friends who are actually consistently on your side and won’t take the first chance they get to kill you or fuck you up some other way, but we definitely don’t have a whole cluster of others we can just fall back on any time we’re met with something we can’t handle alone.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Dave started, but Karkat just kept going. Apparently he’d had some sort of fuckin’ epiphany in the past two minutes.

“It took me so fucking long to get this, but I get it now! You know what I don’t get, though, is why the fuck you ever tried to convince me that Strider is part of your fucking family.”

Something in Dave dropped like a stone.

He’d…had a similar thought, really. Repeatedly. Multiple times, over the past week or so. He’d been kind of trying to avoid it, because every time it popped up, he got really stressed out.

“And don’t give me any of the bullshit about being ‘related’ or what the fuck ever, I don’t wanna hear it,” Karkat kept right on going. “I still don’t get why you humans care so much about that. The whole point of this family thing is that you all take care of each other, not that you’re related or whatever! Your aunt’s here, did you know that? She flew across an entire fucking ocean just to make sure she could help out you and Dirk! What the fuck did Strider ever do for you?”

It was a good question. And the answer, of course, was: aside from trying to  kill him, do you mean? Hahaha.

Karkat was still talking, but Dave wasn’t really hearing him. Fuck, this had been a mistake, he should’ve taken his chances with the fucking nightmare dog. That was better than this old song and dance with his own thoughts.

The facts were pretty simple. He’d operated under pretty clear logic when he went up against Bro: We’re family, so he loves me, so therefore if I ask him to let me leave and explain that I really can’t deal with this, he’ll let me go. Except, Bro had tried to kill him, which meant that…

That was as far as Dave ever got. He couldn’t think any farther than that.

He felt like…like the next thought should be obvious, but he couldn’t make himself think it. It was too big—not so much a square peg in a round hole as it was trying to cram a grain silo into a pinhole, and the thought threatened to overwhelm and destroy him, so instead of thinking it, his brain kept rejecting it, the effect being like a broken record skip-skip-skipping, over and over, repeating the last thought he could get to before the Big One, because he couldn’t not think the Big One, either…

It was so fucking stupid, it was just a thought, why couldn’t he…

“Hah, yeah, now that you mention it, I guess I was always kinda wrong about this shit, wasn’t I?” Dave said, unable to stop the sardonic laughter bubbling up in his throat. “I mean, fuck, no wonder it took you so long to get, I probably gave you the wrong idea. My dumb ass was convinced he’d never try to kill me, cuz we’re family, and, well, here we fuckin’ are!”

Skip, skip, skip—

Karkat was still talking in stuttered phrases in the gaps of Dave’s own flood of words, looking almost scared, but Dave didn’t comprehned any of them, and anyway, the ranting had started, there was no stopping this shit now. “Like, what the fuck was I even thinking, right? I really thought that was gonna work, that somehow he’d just let me go if I asked, like a fucking idiot! Haha, what a fuckin’ dipshit, right?! And here I was thinking he—” Frantic laughter bubbled up, overtaking the words, not that more would’ve come, that next thought was just too big. Was he crying? Fuck, Karkat didn’t need to see any of this shit, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t think

Skip, skip, skip, skip, skipskipskipskipskipskip—

It wasn’t Karkat’s fault. It really wasn’t. He might’ve set it off, but the storm had been building up for days, now, and it broke hard, sweeping Dave up in a torrent of just wordless mental screaming. He couldn’t think the next thought. He couldn’t. But the thing was damming him up, and he couldn’t ignore it anymore, and he was stuck in the middle and left to just completely melt down and dissipate into the flood.

A sound like a cicada crossed with the creakiest horror movie door ever to creak ripped through the tides, and suddenly Dave found himself tugged into a full body hug, wrapped up in four limbs with his face pressed into a thick sweater. The touch dragged him out of the flood and onto dry land, brought him back into now before he even knew what was happening. Karkat’s whole chest was vibrating with some intense cricket-cat hybrid purr, and this should’ve been so embarrassing but he was so tired and so lost and it was fucking comforting, so who the fuck cared. Who cared anymore. It was all bullshit. He could be embarrassed later.

Too soon, Karkat seemed to have the same thought, and tried to pull away. “Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t—fuck, I’m so sorry, this is really presumptive and I know you aren’t even into boys,” he babbled.

Dave groaned, wrapping his arms around Karkat’s chest and pulling him close. “Dude, if you try to make this about alien romance right now, I swear to fuck,” he gasped out between harsh sobs. Christ, he was going harder than Karkat did like twenty minutes earlier, what the fuck.

Karkat paused. Good. It meant his warm arms were still there. “Dave, I…I mean, this is troll romance, this is textbook moiraillegience, and I shouldn’t just be throwing myself at you because you had a moment of weakness, no matter how bad I, uh.”

Dave sniffled, wracked his brain for a moment…Karkat had explained this stuff about a million times, which one was…”That’s like…the bros quadrant, right?”

“The what.”

“The one that’s, like, platonic and shit.”

“…Yeah?” The cricket-purr started up again, cautiously.

“We fuckin’ kinda do most of that shit already, don’t we?” Like. Yeah. He wasn’t gay. That was still a thing. But Karkat was warm and solid and real and Dave was fucking exhausted and didn’t want to be alone, especially not when he felt right now like he was wrapped in safety. “Please, Karkat,” he added, because why not beg. He was already at maximum pathetic, there was no digging this hole lower, fuck it. “I really don’t wanna be alone right now, just, please don’t go.”

Karkat was quiet for a long moment, but finally, the cricket-purr went back to full volume and Karkat’s arms tightened around him.

“Okay,” Karkat said quietly. Dave let out a breath he’d barely known he’d been holding and went back to crying.

“We’re going to have to talk about this later,” Karkat murmured, which put him at about normal volume for anyone else.

“Later, then,” said Dave, and let himself finally fall the fuck asleep.

[queermequeeryou]

Chapter 3

Nevada has not seen Christina for three days and like always, she did not give her any sign that she is even alive. Also as usual, Nevada refused to seek contact. Maybe she felt a little bit ashamed of her emotional message to Christina because they were never that open with feelings before. When a week passed, Frankie was having doubts if she will ever see the woman of her life again. She was trying to focus on her doctorate but it was barely possible to even attend already postponed meetings with tutors. When she went for the meeting with professor Dellayune, she decided that she has to speak with somebody.  “I know that you prefer to stay on a professional side but I don’t know with whom should I talk about it” she started in a worried tone and Ellen immediately realised that Frances really needs her. “What’s going on?” she interlocked her own hands and looked towards Frankie. “It’s about Christina. That brunette woman that...” “I know which one, I remember her” Ellen stopped her because she was feeling indifferent to hear about it again at the university. “I love her. I could do anything for her and I mean, for years we’re like lovers with a strange bond that none of us can explain. Neither her husband who knows about it all but pretends like everything is okay, he even tries to be nice for me but sometimes he tries to show me his advantage... Okay, doesn't matter. The point is that she disappeared for a week now and she used to do this, right. She was nowhere to be found for few days but not that long and also. Well.. I sent her a message. I told that I need to talk with her. We were never like this. Emotions is our border topic. A no topic. I think I could scare her away and I can’t stand the thought of not seeing her again.” Ellen sighed. “Have you called her or messaged?” her tone was very serious and caring but it was not all that. There was something else. “No. We have this unwritten rule that none of us is pressuring. When we want each other, we go to each other”. “But you want her now and you can’t go to her. How come? I mean, have you gone to her house or something?” Ellen could not take her eyes off Frankie. Nevada felt something strong and sharp in her heart that gave her some bitter taste somewhere around that area. “No and I don’t wanna. You see, Ellen, I am afraid that she is maybe with her husband now at home” she looked down on the floor trying to avoid Ellen’s look. “My god, but you would now something. Wouldn’t you like to know if that’s even worth waiting?” asked Ellen emotionally but not impatiently nor irritated.  “I don’t know. Maybe, I’m just avoiding the truth and I should move on. She’s hurting me. I can't be in this fucking throuple or threesome or whatever with her and her husband forever. I need to be appreciated and loved and exclusive.” Frankie almost cried, she was shaken. Ellen took her hair back and stroked her cheek.  “You are a wonderful woman and you deserve the best” said Ellen and kissed her. “Now, let’s get back to your thesis. We have to do something done.  She smiled to Frankie and she stroked Ellen’s hand. They got back to working.

~*~

After the doctorate meeting, Frankie asked Ellen if they maybe can grab a coffee and chat a little more because he did not want to stay alone with her thoughts again. They were just talking and enjoying time together until a message notification came to Nevada. She excused herself and looked at her phone. It was from Christina. 

~*~

Ellen’s upset face remained with Frankie for a while when she was driving her old vintage car towards Sachs mansion. She was trying not to overthink. Christina was not contacting with her for ten days and just after one message saying that she is waiting for Frankie, the younger girl stopped what she was doing and get into the car. She knew she should not let herself be trapped in this but she could not resist. She was in love and nothing could stop her at this time from being vain. Well, maybe there was one thing but she did not let it mislead her this time. She parked her car in the lot and went inside. Christina was bringing the food on the table. She turned herself towards Frankie. “Hey” she said simply in her always flirty tone and this same sight that was able to get one knocked off one’s feet.  Frankie did not say a thing, she just kissed Christina with rage and passion at the same time. “I see you’re angry” realised Christina without a care in her voice. “What’s going on?” “I was worried”. “Oh my goodness, we are sleeping together for what... five years now? Or six. I thought that you know me. Why were you worried?” every word was hurting Frankie more and more. Nevada held Christina’s face gently and put her hair behind her ear. They have never done it. It was emotional and Frankie saw scare in her lover’s eyes but then her facial expression changed and she finally assured herself that there was more than physical attraction from Christinea’s side. Nevada was always thinking it is but right now, she realised that all her thought about Christina being scared of love were true. The older woman held her hand and let herself and kissed her. Differently. It was finally what Frankie has always wanted to feel when Christina was putting her lips on hers.  “I need to tell you something, baby.” started Christina and Nevada realised her heart was beating stronger and louder. “My husband will be joining as for dinner tonight. “I need to use the toilet” replied Frankie and went there. She was crying inaudibly. The tears were just coming down with all the bitterness she was overwhelmed by.  Christina leaned on the table and closed her eyes for a while. She was not ready but she hated herself for hurting Frankie. They will never be together on the terms Nevada deserved but Christina could not live without her but it was to hard to digest for her. It was too much expression anyway. Brunette took a tiny package with white powder from the drawer and prepared some on the plate. She took one sniff to each nose hole and now she was not crying, just her eyes were bloody red and watering. She went upstairs to her garderobe and fixed that with make up.

~*~

Henry Sachs came home around 8 and they all sat at the table to eat. Henry was in a great mood, being nice without any rivalry in his voice. Maybe his transactions went well and he made lots of money. That would be an explanation fitting him the most.  “This salad is perfect, my dear.” he complemented her wife and she smiled a bit peculiarly.  “May we have some wine now?” he asked after the dish and Christina brought one. Frankie stood up to help Christina and Henry as well but he just laughed politely.  “Go on, Frankie.” said Henry putting his hand on Frankie’s shoulder. It was quite ridiculous but Nevada was too tired to complain. They started drinking and went to the salon to sit on the sofa as Henry suggested. “I think you’re a great woman Frankie. I don’t know how Chris would go on without your help. And I also think you would be great at business. You’re doing your PhD now, aren’t you?”  “Well, yes. I mean, I’d doing a doctorate on economics but I was never a leader of a company. I bet it’s different.” replied Frankie feeling the sparkle already as everybody else. “Frankie but you know I’ve been the CEO for like 20 years now and I don’t have even master’s degree. So, you should be really appreciated”. said Henry and clapped his hands. “I think she is appreciated.” broke suddenly Christina and took Frankie’s hand.  She started to massage it. “I think you both appreciate each other properly and for that I’m very happy, so to speak”. said Henry and sipped some more wine.  “Your wife is an incredible woman, it couldn’t be fair any other way” said Frankie looking into Christina’s eyes. She finally understood what brunette was up to. It made her feel disgusted but she also wanted it for her. Frankie kissed Christina’s hand and then looked briefly towards Henry. He loosened his tie and drank more wine. Christina moved on towards Frankie, sad on her knees facing the younger woman and kissed her passionately on the lips. Then she moved her hand closer to her husband and rubbed his arm. He rubbed it back. Christina turned her face towards Henry and kissed him while Frankie was having her on the knees still also trying to figure out what kind of the kiss was that. It was quite blind and strange or so she hoped. Christina moved her hand under Frankie’s shirt while kissing her now. Henry stood up and unzip his wife’s dress. Frankie took off his tie with one expressive movement. Henry looked suggestively towards the stairs. They went to the bedroom. Frankie was only thinking about avoiding this fucked up man putting anything into her but it was still as bad as it could be. Looking at Henry inside Christina made her wanna vomit so she was drinking during that moments. Anyway, she came into a strange realisation that felt like Christina’s strange way of saying something. When Henry was fucking her, it looked like blindness was in their eyes and that was just not right. Nevada has always thought that their sex is just a passion without not much feelings but she realised that she might be wrong and that Christina probably gives something more into that. It was still the strangest night of Frankie’s life. Even stranger were Henry’s eyes when he asked her to stay with them tonight. He hugged her like a child. On the other side of the bed was Christina who was kissing her on the neck for a little while before she fell asleep. Nothing could be more peculiar than this night.