#imagine how much hate hed be getting if he was a woman

[ineffablelvrs]

btw now that the second season of the show comes out in less than a week, i want to remind yall that it does not matter that ben barnes plays him, it does not matter that he's "hot so it's okay", the darkling is a fucking creep, a groomer and a manipulator and yall just like him bc he's a powerful, conventionally attarctive man. he's NOT "morally gray". grishaverse characters who ARE actually morally gray are for example kaz, nikolai and zoya. darkling is straight up a villain, an unredeemable one to add to that. to sum up, fuck darkling and his apologists :)

[nztsume]

i think the thing that interests me the most about homelander is 10000% the fact that hes redeemable and likable just because of the fact of how much he loves the people he loves and how much he needs to be loved by them. like that makes him SO interesting to me, and the more we discover about him the more his insanity makes sense. the fact that nobody ever in his life saw him as any other than a product or a message or a pennant but never a HUMAN, and the fact that he himself doesnt want to see himself as a HUMAN when he so clearly is because all of this!!! the fact that hes gets so pathetically obsessed with any woman that shows him some love and attention, even if its fake! the way he refused to kill maeve because a part of him genuinely loves her still, the fact that when annie kissed him for the fake dating thing he was genuinely GENUINELY into it, and not in a sexual way. he fucking SMILED into the kiss??????? 'i'm glad you're here'???????????? the way stormfront never gave him any genuine show of affection, when it was clearly all about the sex and the power she had over him and he still didnt see it because he was so glad there was a woman who was willingly giving him what he understood as affection (that for her was just sex) idk i just feel like theres something so innocent about his character that the rest of the guys in the boys dont have - which is a clear reflection of how traumatized he was in the lab, how he never quite understood how to navegate his emotions as a grown up and develop actual self love. he loves homelander, but does he love john? everyone loves homelander, but who loves john? im obsessed. and i love how this spills into things that men who stan him actually would never accept or understand- like the fact that he doesnt even care about looks, he doesnt even care about his own supposed ideals where he considers supes superior to humans. he doesnt even care about loyalty!!!! otherwise hed loved firecracker. he simply wants a woman who will love him, really love him, like nobody ever loved him in his life. (and if you think about it thats soooooooo tragic. imagine not even having parents that love you... not even your own fucking child!!!! despite you doing everything to make him not have to go through what you went through!!!! despite giving him your undivided attention- even when youre one of the most important people in the world!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and by the way, im really glad they didnt go for a super easy and predictable storyline where sister sage would pretend she loves him to manipulate him- because that would have been incredibly boring. and one last thing: this is soooo silly and petty but this is why the single most infuriating and insufferable thing in the fandom is the way men stan him, because in universe, theyd literally be the kind of people homelander would fucking hate LMFAOOOO because they ignore all of these essential parts of his character because they are too busy wankin over ashley look at me

[alexging]

sean diaz + daniel diaz modern hcs

i kind of forgot this was exclusively modern at the end just ignore that LMFAO

- sean has no social media presence whatsoever

- a lot of people from school follow him but he only follows lyla and his track team back 😭 popular loner energy 🥀🐺

- i feel like if sean went to hs now hed be sm more popular esp w girls but hes rlly humble so he doesnt see it at all

- hes stupid and just thinks theyre being nice

- it gets on lylas nerves bc he refuses to believe anybody wants him 😭

- all his stories are like fireworks he posted when he was thirteen that he never bothered to delete

- its titled Highlights bc he doesnt know how to make an aesthetic instagram

- if anything, if he posts now its skate videos, drawings, or funny pics of daniel

- sean def takes 0.5x photos of daniel where his eyes go two diff directions and threatens to send them to lyla whenever he starts acting up

- daniel always throws a tantrum and esteban gets mad and tells sean to delete the pics (he doesnt)

- speaking of daniel he def got wayyy into skibidi toilet

- daniel tries to explain skibidi toilet n sean just tunes him out and says “uh huh” every so often

- hes those impressionable kids that gets into literally anything on the internet. among us, squid games, ROBLOX FOR SURE. sticky ipad baby energy overall!

- sean plays roblox with daniel on very rare occasions. i can imagine daniels avatar is decked out with limited items and sean is a bacon haired woman 😭

- daniel has definitely swiped estebans card a couple times under his nose for his robux…

- daniel purposely chooses games hes good at to watch sean struggle and die over and over again

- daniel watches weird kid youtube videos like… among us 24 hour challenge with spiderman and elsa giving birth kind of videos. sean gets really pissed off partly bc theyre rotting daniels brain and partly bc daniel always put it at max volume in the living room

- once sean gets paid he always goes thrifting. he fs goes to the bins and finds dirty dookie drawls every weekend 😭 but its worth it bc he finds cool shit

- as a skater boy i feel its obligatory for him to wear those afflication types of clothing as well as ironic graphic tees

- sean def wears baggy jeans in 2023 🙅‍♀️ none of that straight leg jeans from the game!!

- he also probably loves those ironic wolf shirts w the galaxy print n thinks theyre so funny

- sean also buys clothes in his style for daniel from the thrift n records 360s of daniel in his skater outfits

- “can i go play roblox now?” “no u have to cover ur nose when u turn around”

- got a buzzcut and surprisingly it looked really good

- esteban, daniel, lyla, and practically everyone else in his life kept making fun of him for being bald and would rub his head like a genie bottle tho

- daniels go-to is “well- well at least i don’t look like… look like caillou!” bc i imagine he tries to make funny comebacks but always stutters in the middle 😭😭

- eventually grew it back out bc he got annoyed at everyone making fun of him. they dont see his blond album cover early 2000s vision 💔

- daniel has no room to talk bc sooner or later he goes to the barber and gets a fucked edgar bowlcut

- sean laughs until he can barely breathe 😭 when lyla sees she TRIES to cheer him up about it but its too late

- even esteban laughs a little but only when daniel cant see bc he knows how much itd hurt him

- back to the blond album cover… sean LOVES music. his playlists are hours long

- i feel like he indulges in a super LARGE range of music likeee from bad bunny to deftones to pinkpantheress

- everybody hates it when he has aux and boos him off

- when esteban orders mexican food, sean and daniel both get horchata. sean dgaf if hes grown he still loves it!!

- i imagine esteban slowly stopped enforcing mexican food and culture overtime. bc of this, daniel knows barely any spanish and has 0 spice tolerance. sean always makes fun of him bc he goes gets water after a couple hot cheetos

- daniel tries to recreate those videos of people eating carolina reapers in hot sauce to prove a point and almost dies

- sean absolutely LOVES halloween. horror movies, costumes, the weather, everything abt it

- a part of him always gets jealous of daniel bc hes no longer considered trick or treating age anymore

- lowkey hed be willing to pull up in a full body costume just so he can trick or treat again

- when watching horror movies, sean will get way too immersed and start judging the people in the movies 😭

- daniels not allowed to watch but he peaks around the corner when estebans not watching

- “why the fuck is she just standing there? RUN! WHAT THE FUCK DUDE?!”

- “language mijo”

- he acts like he cld fight off the killer and explains his mastermind plan during the movie

- he doesnt admit it but he gets jumpy after a horror movie 😭 esteban and daniel take advantage of this every single time

- sean daniel and esteban are a tight knit family REGARDLESS of sean’s moodiness and daniel’s annoying gen alpha brainrot theyre so 😢

yes im aware that 2016 wasnt tjat long ago but i dont want to imagine sean diaz enjoying dank memes and saying boi 💔

[c1trvswurld]

Hanzo is such an interesting character to headcannon for.

...

I like to imagine that while he doesn't hate his father he doesn't have the most solid relationship with him, especially after he passed so much things were left in the air, arguments never resolved, sorries never given and in some weird way he both resents him yet begs for his presence one last time. This is even more amplified because of his mother.

Id feel like hanzo would adore his mother and even though she had very enabling behaviors towards her husband, because of how harshly his father treated him (for being the eldest) , he still sees her as this holier than thou martyr. A woman whose done no wrong in her short life time which is infactually untrue because not only was she human but a heavily flawed one.

And I'd imagine that'd cause a heavy rift with genji since while he is the baby of the family he was still unbiased enough to see that both their mother and father were messed up and neglectful in their own ways.

Hanzo would def have a very complex relationship with his masculinity. Often being discouraged from being emotional or soft because of his dad grooming him to become a leader. His father would have criticized his mistakes by comparing him to his mother. "Like mother like son" would have been hanzos dad favorite insult. This causing him to see the feminine and maternal as both something he yearns to experience without judgement yet spits on or looks down on anyone (especially other men) who are comfortable with it.

Which is also another reason why hanzo envied genji during his late teens and early 20s. How dare he not be regulated? How dare his father not criticize every mistake? How dare he be free and enjoy the feminine without judgment...

But in genjis eyes he's the forgotten child who didn't get invested in because from the start he was seen as lesser, weaker, younger.

And coming back to the fear of feminine for hanzo hed also would have a fear of the masculine. Every time there's a man who exudes more stone butch masculinity than him he feels so intimidated on the inside. There's an automatic reaction to prove himself to be the best in the room.

[silvery-orchid]

i cant describe how down bad I am for your writing of neuvillette. The unbalanced power dynamic??? THE WAY HE MAKES THE READER LISTEN TO HIM REJECT THE WOMEN? THE TEA!! I love the flour in the reader’s hair, man goes through all 5 stages of grief,, your writing of him is so immaculate ahhh. please spare us just another crumb of your thoughts on yan! neuvillette

Omg my first ask on this blog and its about yan! Neuvillette. Thank you so much 🥺🥺. I can't wait to get more info on him so that i can actually shape up one shots and have them be accurate but,,,many,,plently,,too many thoughts and scenarios are tumbling round like a golf ball in my mind and here are some of them: (some are nsfw)

Imagine that he is indeed khaenri'an. Now imagine that he was your lover before he was forced into the curse. Imagine that somehow (istaroth) freezed you in time until you woke up again so many years later. You end up in fontaine and meet him again and how wonderful that is. But what you dont know is that your lover has changed so much that his tight hugs and new jewelry and new clothes and new clingly behaviour are indicative of not just him missing you - its him wanting to own you. But he tells you of all the horrors he went thought while you were forturnate enough to not see those. (Yes, you being fortunate is his manipulation tactic.) So how can you blame him for being more possessive now when he loves you so? He makes it seem like you have independence but you can't find a job anywhere, you have no documents on you so you cant find a place to live and you dont have enough mora to even try. But he has all of it. And he loves you. So you have to trust him when he says working for him and fulfilling all of his wants will help you.

Regardless of his origin, I think Neuvillette would want his darling to get pregnant as soon as he kidnapped them. It would help with your bonding and he will own his darling in a way nobody else ever has. But you are in cahoots with a nice pharmacist woman who gives you different blends and pills to ensure you never do. Uhm good luck when he finds out. Scurrying to him or from him wont help much.

I also love the thought of Neuvillette getting corrupted himself from how innocent a darling is but sexually,,,morally,,,corrupted swoons...(stealing your possessions so you dont notice kind of thing.)

Neuvillette who orchestrated your trial when you have fate in the justice system and locked you up in a cage just to have you only do things for him.

More of forced marriage with him!! More!! You were sold for a collaboration as collateral and you hate him. You hate him so much. But hes so good in bed that you rile him up on purpose!! It becomes like you enjoy all of his punishments and only when he refuses to punish you once for flirting with another man is when you tear up and realize the physical pleasure he gives u has deeply effected your mental state. (I need to fuck this man can you feel that?) I like to think hed force you to fuck the man you flirted with too but as he watches just to prove how horrible sex is with someone that isnt him,,,can i get a TATTA PIC NEUVILLETTE PLEASE.

[hearts401]

1. have to address this cause i saw you said you ship venti with dorian i LOVE that. what the hell is their dynamic tho LMAO cause venti silly as hell (affectionate)

2. KITSUNE SUCROSE SAVE ME i literally. okay its a Super Basic Theory that shes literally just. an anemo kitsune. points at yae. drawn back ears, no tail (most of the time), catalyst user, and we are NEVER TOLD what sucrose actually is, all were really told is that she is not a cat like diona. (if i remember correctly, but my point is i dont think we ever get an actual answer). she lives in mondstadt cause it feels homey cause its the land of wind!!!! and she made friends there!!!! i would die for sucrose okay…. (i also made a joke theory thath has zero evidence that each region has their own elemental kitsune lol but that was sooo long ago idr who i even assigned lol)

3. okay one of my little aus was of course. okay. i should clarify. Dont Like Draff. dont like margaret either shes taking advantage of diona it drives me mad. get that kitten outta there. anyways in one of my aus diona runs away and stows away on a ship to inazuma and gets picked up by yae who likes her spirit and diona gets a good mom and lives in inazuma i literally didnt think farther than that LMAO

oh and also diona finding whoppy in one au and they become buddies 🫶 little mimic kitty flower. catmint. they r best friends.

(anyways fuck draff and margaret dont like em dont like the way they treat diona idk why half the fandom thinks margaret is like a mom to her if margaret cared she wouldnt let a TWELVE YEAR OLD serve ALCOHOL to CREEPY PERVS WHO ASK HER TO MEOW AND TRY TO TOUCH HER EARS AND TAIL i will fight margaret in the cats tail back alley come fucking get me woman)

-cross

VENDORIAN OKAY OKAY SO BASICALLY YKNOW THAT LINE VENTI HAS WHERE THEY SAY "what is freedom if demanded of you by a god?" YEAH SO LIKE. THAT. AND DORIAN WHOS CONVINCED HIS ONLY POSSIBLE WAY OF LIVING IS TO KILL AND REPLACE THE "BETTER" ONE (albedo) SO HES NOT FREE AND LIKE EVEN IF HE SUCCEEDED HE WOULDNT BE FREE HED BE FORCED TO PRETEND TO BE ALBEDO WHICH HES NOT VERY GOOD AT TBH... VENTI SHOWING HIM ITS OKAY TO BE HIS OWN PERSON... Venti being silly and playing their lyre and convincing dorian to chill out while dorian tails them places and reluctantly puts up with their shit and venti opens up about themself and dorian tells them about his own life. durin and dvalin paralleling dorian and venti. just them getting closure together and at first dorian is super reluctant but he warms up to it and venti gives him dragon therapy and he plays music with venti (friendly reminder ventis lyre is what stopped durins rampage.... imagine it had a calming effect on dorian)

I LOOOVE THAT... (i wonder who the kitsune could be for liyue and fontaine) her being a silly kitsune.... omgggggg i love that

DIONA YESSS i ddont like draff much either and frankly mondstadts tendency to employ children (bennett, fischl, klee, diona) is a little odd but. yknow. i like that a lot

WHOPPY AND DIONA..... Thats so funny bc i made a list of mond characters and how dorian felt abt them and she was in his hate section LMAO he has beef w his sons best friand,,,

[little-shadows-story]

Little Shadows | Tale 5 – "Mother"

Content warning: Brief depictions of gun violence, brief mentions of homophobia, domestic abuse/violence, child abuse.

Everything has a price, and she figured it out the hard way. She always wanted to be a mother, but three sons had cost her marrying a man she didn't love while being in love with a woman, and her freedom had come at the price of losing both. She didn't lament that her now ex-husband hated her, she always expected it; what did weighted on her was that he didn't want to see his own children anymore. Even more so was the loss of her love, one that she didn't expected to be returned, but she never imagined that that woman, years–long friend, would abandon her after confessing that her heart could only carry love for others like her. One part of herself was relieved that she didn't had time to tell her how she felt, and didn't want to imagine how she'd reacted if she had.

But she didn't have time for tears, not with three sons to protect. The oldest of 17 years old, the second of 14 and the youngest of 5 now depended on her alone, and though the oldest was a big help at home, she couldn't allow him to abandon his wish to go to college by getting a job to help her economically. What kind of mother would she be if she allowed that? A bad one, she said. No; money was her responsibility, not his. With sweet words and head pats she undid the possibility of such a choice every time it appeared and she replaced it with cheering so that hed go back to his studies.

It was easier to deal with the second one. He'd closed himself up with his books, assuring that he'd become a famous writer with a book that he promised to turn into the most sold of all times. But, if he didn't, then hed get a stable job as an editor and let his mom retire early. Such naive but pragmatic aspirations cheered her up, though she lamented that his son was spending so much time working hard and less having fun. Was so much effort from his part alright?

The youngest was the hardest. He missed dad and said so whenever he thought of it. She didn't know if the others did as well, and was too scared to ask. He also missed that his mom didn't read to him before going to bed every night, replaced by one of his brothers, but it couldn't be helped. She'd taken a second job and didn't comeback home until dawn. He cried often, and without her to dry his tears, it was norma that the hole in his little heart grew a tad more everyday. Was it worth it making him feel so alone?

The questions weighted in her heart. The two oldest ones didn't blame her of anything, accepting both her situation and orientation, but she questioned if a part of herself did, and the seas she cried when nobody was looking made her fear she was right. Perhaps she shouldn't have gotten divorced. Perhaps everyone would be happier if she'd taken her truth to the tomb. Perhaps she should try to get back with her ex-husband, or perhaps she should try finding a new one.

Maybe she wasn't cut for this. Maybe she never should've gotten married. Maybe everything was her fault. Thinking that, she cried until asleep.

It was on a full moon night, when she felt the tiredness was about to finish her, that she found the little shadow. It slipped between the dirty clothes she was carrying and tinkled like crystal when it fell to the floor. Without knowing what it was she took it, and a vigor that she didn't feel in many years run through her body. She was about to leave it over a table and forget about it until the next day, when she'd ask her kids what it was and who it belonged to, when a scream froze her heart. It was her second son.

She threw the clothes and run to the kitchen, where it came from. She stopped when an unknown man threatened her with a gun, her second child trapped by the neck in one of his arms. The other two kids went out of their rooms, equally freaked out by the scream, and the man threatened them all the same. The oldest took the youngest on his arms, who clenched to his shirt and started crying for mom. The second one cried too, but did so in silence due to the terror.

She didn't move. Panic and fear froze her feet and her heart beat with such strength that she felt it'd escape from her mouth. But a tingle in her hand, caused by the little shadow, transformed the fear in adrenaline, and the adrenaline in action. Yes, maybe she was a bad mother, and maybe it'd been better to not get a divorce, and maybe her sons would be happier if she wasn't the person she was.

But even a bad mother has her pride. And hers was yelling at her to do whatever it took to protect her children.

She ran. The little shadow trembled. Three, four steps later, she was in front of the man. A shot. Two. The scream of her children. She closed the hand where the shadow shook in a fist, and gave such a strong punch to the man's face that a tooth flew away. The gun fell far away, and her son in her arms, to who she hugged. The other two got closer, extremely worried about their mother and the shots they heard. However, where the second son expected to find blood while hugging her, he didn't found anything. On the floor, both bullets rested like cans that'd been crushed by foot. Her breathing suddenly got faster, and it only went back to normal when her three kids where in her arms, safe and sound. The little shadow slipped from her hand and echoes like a coin in the ground. When it stoped moving, she did too, exhausted.

She woke up hours later, when the police was taking away the thief that had forced the door and threatened them, and the medics were checking her up from head to toe. After a few extenuating hours of investigation and check ups the house was empty again, and her family could go back to sleep. But not her. When everyone was in their beds and the sub was starting to appear by the window, she stood up and went to find the little shadow un til she found it near the wall. She took it between her index and her thumb, and that same revitalizing energy went inside her.

The medics and officials had dismissed her lack of wounds to simple luck and her incredible strength to adrenaline, but she knew it wasn't like that. No; she remembered perfectly the hit that in her body the bullets had caused, one in her stomach, another in her chest. And the energy that mysterious shadow was giving her wasn't just adrenaline: in the few second she'd carry it, like she was doing now, there was something else it had given her besides strength or determination. It was a security she hadn't felt in many years, that came from a feeling that hadn't let her doubt. Certainty, or maybe, confidence.

What was that shadow and where it came from, nobody could tell her. And since it didn't belong to anyone, she decided to keep it. She tied the object with a delicate thread and turned it into a necklace that she used regularly,and thanks to which she found strength she didn't knew she had. The hesitance that would pop up their head before when she took decisions disappeared and she saw with renovated energy that her children also seemed to benefit from her better state, now that she had enough fuel to dedicate time to them.

But maybe this vitality clouded her judgement, because the grades of her two oldest sons started to Celine. It was, undoubtedly, due to their traumatic experience, and she understood. Even so, she couldn't allow them to. How could they secure a future if they didn't keep their grades? But as a mother, was reasonable. She took a small loan to send them to therapy and doubled her efforts in her jobs to pay it, as well as to keep pushing her children to move forward.

Weeks became months, and these piled up one after the other. The little shadow danced on her chest, but it was hard to notice due to the necklace movement when she walked. Where was that woman filled with doubts? She didn't know, she hadn't see her in a long while. Where were those emotions that tormented her? Lost somewhere, she didn't know. When was the last time she'd slept? Maybe three or four days ago, she didn't knew either.

And even so, she wasn't tired. Her mind was clear and serene. Her only worry, if any, was that lately she couldn't control well he force: she'd broken a couple of chairs and damaged some furniture in both of her jobs.

But she completely forgot that when her oldest came back with his talk of not going to college. With excuses like the lack of rest he was seeing in his mother and many others she didn't listen, the argument started to get long. However, she wasn't fonna accept it, not now, not ever. And she needed to make her son understand that, too.

She hit the dinner table and broke it in two. It'd be pricey replacing it, but it was okay. It was a needed sacrifice to keep his son in the right path, and knew hed understood it when he fell quiet and went away without saying anything.

Something like it happened when she saw a stranger taking his youngest by the hand when she came for him to the kindergarten. She only pretended to keep her away from him, but ended up pushing her too strongly that she broke a few of her ribs. Luckily she wasn't made to pay the hospital bill since she was a wanted criminal, but she did get a fine for not conforming with breaking the ribs, but she kept kicking her with her son in her own arms and breaking a few bones more.

But such aggression was needed so she didn't get close to her child ever again. For her family's sake, she didn't care.

Then the secrets started. For some unknown motive, her children started to get away from her. She didn't know why, and since they weren't going to talk, she'd force them. What kind of family kept secrets from one another? So she twisted her oldest's arm. The little shadow wobble ok the thread tied to her neck. Her son responded through cries that she was strange and they didn't know why. She'd changed. When she let him go, the mark of her hand stayed red on his skin.

Since he was crying, she hugged him and pat his head. No, there was no reason to cry; he wasn't a bad child, he just did a bad thing. After all, saying the truth is a good thing every mother had to teach her kid. And her change? It wasn't motive for worry. It was all for the family.

Same was breaking a fork in front of her youngest when he didn't want to eat his greens. It was taking their therapist by their shirt's collar when they didn't want to share something about their sons because it was private information. It was knowing what they did, what they watched and who their children talked to at any moment. It was all needed to protect them.

Was it too much? No, it was love. With something like that it's never enough, no matter what others or her own sons, said to her. A mother cannot doubt when protecting her family. For them she'd be certain. She'd be confident.

But not even that was enough. She knew it when she perceived the smell of tobacco and alcohol from her oldest when he came back from school. The excuses turned into claims; the claims, yelling: and the yelling, cursing. He didn't get that everything she did was for them, but she didn't felt hurt by that. She didn't felt mad either. She was calm, so much so that she didn't remember well how it felt not being so.

The little shadow swing when the first hit fell. It did again with the second. The third. The fourth. The fifth... It was like that until the tenth. It kept moving when the hits reached twenty. Thirty. Forty. Fifty. Sixty.

Both, shadow and fists, stopped at sixty one.

She stood up and looked down. Her son didn't move. But he was still breathing. Of course he was, what kind of mother would kill her own child? A fake one, she said. Not like her. She was capable of everything in order to ride her kids and protect them. For her family's sake she'd be certain. She'd be confident.

And she'd be ruthless.

The little shadow trembled in her neck like her other two sons did, who watched the scene hiding behind the door. She didn't notice them, like she didn't notice the dark figure standing behind them.

******

Start / Last / Next

[words-for-holland]

Always Yours

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Sometimes dating a celebrity is hard...but Tom & Y/N have always said no matter what happens they could get through anything. Some angst but a lot of fluff.

A/N: So sorry for leaving yall hanging! Life is just crazy right now and this blog needs a lot of TLC tbh!! Also ehh I def dont think this was my best work but enjoy?

“Oof” Y/N lets out as she plops on to her boyfriend who was lying comfortable on the couch. Tom groaned at the impact with a cheeky smile on his face, his arms instantly wrapping around Y/N’s frame.

“Y’know..there are empty seats right there.” The soft brown-eyed boy gestured with the flick of his thick head as Y/N raises her eyes looking down at him, pretending to be slightly offended.

“Oh I see how it is then. It’s cool...Ill just cuddle with Tessa instead. I know she would welcome me with open arms instead of—” As she slowly starts getting off his chest, Tom is quick to pull her back in, securing her with his strong arms. “No baby, I was just kidding. I want you right here, and Im never letting you go.” he pleas.

The only thing Y/N could manage was letting out a fit of giggles into his chest, a sound that Tom adored and would do absolutely anything to hear every minute of every day. They stay like this for a while enjoying the feeling of each other as they both run their hands into each others hair, the feeling of their chests moving up and down, the subtle thumps of their heartbeats, and the little slips of adoration that came out of their mouths. It was peaceful. A moment that nobody could really take a way because it was theirs.

Y/N casually pulls up her phone, and scrolls through Twitter when she noticed a particular tweet on her timeline. Her eyebrows furrow, as she read the 160 character message.

Why Tom Holland Should Be With Aaliyah Cole and Dump Y/N: A Thread.

She knew it wasnt a good idea to open up the thread. She knew very well that everything within the shallow string of tweets would be a complete waste of her time because it was made up by fans who just wanted to satisfy their fantasy of shipping Tom with his co-star. Who can blame them? They always had great chemistry, but it was part of the job and thats all it would ever be.

“You’re awfully quiet.” Tom murmurs, as he places soft kisses at the crown of her head. “Whats going on?” She was lucky her phone was facing away from Tom, quickly closing the app and pretending to be on one of her many tabs in Safari.

“Mmm..nothing.” Y/N lies softly, a tight-lipped smiled plastered on her face.

“Absolute bullocks. Youre not a very good liar.” He chuckles. “Tell me darling. Whats on your mind?”

Y/N rolls her eyes in response. She’s heard that comment one too many times in her life from everyone shes known. After not giving it much thought, she gives in, sighing heavily. “Dont judge me for what Im about to say.”

“Mmm...I think it might depend on wha— Ow” Tom reacts as he playfully rubs the side of his chest that Y/N hit. “Okay too soon for jokes. Go on.”

Again, Y/N sighs as she props herself up. “Its just ... well a lot of your fans keeps talking about wanting you to get with Aaliyah.” She looks down trying not to make eye contact with Tom, who she’d imagine was looking at her with annoyance.

Tom rolls his eyes at the ridiculousness. Not so much at Y/N but the fact that some of his fans just didnt want to accept the fact that he was happy with Y/N. If it had to come from his mouth to stop the stupid rumors and give his girlfriend peace, then hed gladly yell it from the rooftops for everyone to hear. “Thats it Im making a statement about it.”

Y/N’s eyes widen in fear, scrambling to prevent him from grabbing his phone on the table next him. “No no no no.” She repeatedly declines. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“Darling, Im not going to stand here and watch you get all insecure because of their delusional ship.”

“Yeah well Im not gonna be the reason your fans hate me because Im getting in the way of your friendship with Aaliyah Cole.” She fires back.

Tom was ready to open his mouth only to be cut off once again. “And you know better. That is how your fans will always see it.”

“Okay, are you done?” He calmly asked, cautiously observing her. Rarely did Y/N ever get worked up about anything, but when she had her tangents, Tom always made sure she got off everything she needed to say before he becomes her voice of reason.

“Yeah, I guess.” she says feeling defeated. “Look its whatever and Im tired, can we just let this go and forget this whole conversation even happened?”

Tom was unconvinced, but didnt want to push her further. So reluctantly, he gave in and wrapped his arms around Y/N as they both tried to lull themselves to sleep.

***

Y/N wasnt sure how she ended up in the Tube. It was strange how the lights flickered off the rusted tile floor. The train was no where to be seen, but off to the side of the railroads was pitch black, she could hardly see beyond. To her right she noticed herself standing in the corner of the room, and to her surprise Aaliyah was there. Her milk chocolate kissed skin, and fashionably long frizzy hair dropped down past her shoulders. Her figure long and poised, as she wore a rain jacket and sweats. An outfit only she could pull off and make it look like she was a model for Vogue. Aasliyah smiles brightly at Y/N.

“Hey Y/N.” She says cheerfully as a genuine friend would.

To Y/N’s surprise she greeted her back in the same tone. “Hey Aaliyah...uhh whats going on?” Y/N wasnt sure if she wanted the answer of how they both ended up in the Tube or if she truly wanted to know how her day went.

“Well Im getting ready to present at the Oscars.” She replies, a smile plastered as if she was so excited about it, almost too excited like she was keeping a secret.

“Really? Oh my god, that’s amazing! Im so proud of you Aaliyah! Who are you taking?”

Aaliyah pauses for a few moment looking back and forth, making sure no one else was around. “Okay can you keep a secret?” She whispered.

Y/N nods her head slowly, not having the slightest clue of what was going on. “Im taking Tom. I think he really likes me, and well...I like him too! Do you think maybe I should ask him when we go?” Aaliyah asked genuinely. It was almost like she had no recollection of Y/N and Tom being a couple. “I think we would look good together. Everyone is already making rumors and ships about us.”

Y/N backs aways lowly only to bump into a broad figure. As she turns around she sees Tom, emotionless and almost sad. “Y/N.” He speaks out. “I dont think this is going to work out. Im leaving you.”

Y/N’s heart quickens, and her breaths become shorter as she tries to find a way to run. Running and running into the darkness, until all she could hear was Tom’s faint voice calling out her name.

***

“Y/N! Y/N! Baby wake up please.” Tom cries as he gently shakes his girlfriend from her disturbed sleep.

Quickly Y/N opens her eyes and clutches on to Toms hoodie firmly. Back home, and in Toms arms. It was a dream was all she thought. A sigh of relief escaping from her mouth.

“Darling...” he speaks softly, worried about his girlfriend. “Are you okay?”

Y/N looks up at him and nods frantically. “Mmm..bad dream.”

“Yeah it seemed like it. You were so frightened...I was scared. What happened?” He’s looking at her, trying to read her saddened eyes, wanting to desperately understand what scared her so he could make it all go away for her.

Y/N looks down at her fiddling hands, as she sits on the couch. “I uhh...” she lets out a chuckle, thinking of the ridiculousness of it all. “I uhh...dreamed about Aaliyah going to the oscars and saying how she loved you and how you two are perfect for each other. When I turned around I saw you but you werent happy and said you were leaving me.”

Tom doesnt say a word, all he could think about was how sorry he felt to put Y/N in this position. Though both of them knew, It wasnt Toms fault, or anyone’s for that matter. Feelings are feelings and that was okay. No human being was ever born perfect and without insecurities.

Y/N always tried to be a good sport with situations like this knowing every shippers theory and evidence were hardly ever true, but at some point there was only so much she could take before it all came out like an oil spill. Maybe it was a sign that she wasnt good enough to be with Tom if half of his fanbase thought this way as well.

Tom cradled her into his arms again, holding her tightly and kissing the top of her head. “Darling, I know youre still doubting yourself about all of this, but please believe me when I tell you that I love you so so much and no matter what happens...Im always yours.” He whispers gently in her ear. “It was only a dream and these ridiculous rumors and theories are just that. No one woman in the world could ever make me feel the way I feel for you.”

Y/N blinks softly, as she stares into space. Afraid and in a weird way ashamed, its funny how something so small and so minimal could affect her self-esteem so greatly. Tom gently brings her head up, so her eyes can meet his. He rolls his thumb on the bottom of her soft lips. “Hey, I love you.” Tom smiles.

Time stopped for the both of them the moment Y/N looked into his eyes, she felt safe. All the bad words and thoughts slowly disappear. Tom was right, none of the things that anyone said about their relationship mattered. She knew Tom loved her, and how much she truly loved him. Isnt that enough? Of course not. It was more than enough. A smile slowly forming on Y/N’s face. “Theres that smile I love so much.” He comments.

“Im sorry, for being such a —”

“No. Its okay. You have a right to feel the way you did.” He picks up her hand and leaves a gentle kiss.

“I love you so much Tom.” She says pressing her lips to his. “I dont deserve you.”

“Darling, its me that doesnt deserve you. Im always yours.” Tom proclaims as he kisses her back.

[yoichichi]

Big Brain Bitches Playlist ❣️

For the lovely @nataliahaslosthershit , thank you for always being so kind and being patient!!!

disclaimers: this is a fem!reader since it is a request, so if there’s any instances where those pronouns or the fact it’s a fem reader is alluded to that’s why!

warnings: Tsukishima, that’s the warning

gif not mine, credit to owner

a/n: thank you for being so patient sweetie!! I really hope you like this and I did my best with the playlist to include a little bit of everything you like!!!

Relationship Headcannons

As much as Tsukishima would lowkey HATE the way you always wanna make friends (not really he just likes being a shithead) he also just finds it so cute??? Like he’s like 🙄✋🏼 must you talk to everyone?? But is also like :) shes so friendly and tries so hard to be nice :) how did I find someone like her :) but he keeps that on the lowkey a bit and GOD LET ANYONE BE RUDE TO YOU WHEN HE SEES YOU AS AN ABSOLUTE ANGEL‼️‼️‼️

Tsukishima is also focused on his studies and would appreciate you being focused as well, he would hate to see you over stressed from the importance your parents put on it, and he’d always be doing/saying things to get you to relax as best as he could

“You’ve gone over this 5 times, do you really think you’re that stupid that you have to go over it again?”

“We should take a break, let’s go take a walk to the corner store and find some good snacks. Studying is always more effective if you take breaks like that anyway.”

It is, but he’s more concerned with removing those frown lines from your forehead and warming your hand up with his

Sidenote - definitely the type to blow on your hands while their held in his to warm them up

ANYWAYS

Regardless, it’d become a habit for you two to always do your studying together since he wants to be sure you’re not overworking yourself.

STUDY DATES‼️‼️

Idk I can just see him always bringing a second bottle of water with him just in case you need it ??LMAO like y’all would be studying and you’d be like

“I’m a little thirsty, I’m gonna get-“

“🤨”

boom bottle of water on the table for you

PLS he won’t give it to you until you mention you’re thirsty tho, unless he feels like he hasn’t seen you drink enough water

I don’t see him as a big talker while he studies with you unless you’re helping each other out, he just kind of likes your presence while you guys are studying cause it feels like bonding and he just likes spending time with you :)

A bit off topic of study dates but you can’t tell me his love language ISNT quality time and he would never admit it but he’s definitely clingy lowkey LMAO

like he just wants to spend his free time with you even if it’s just being in the same room together but doing different things?? He thinks being able to be your own person while still enjoying each other is important in a relationship

So of course he’ll sit in a room with you and eavesdrop read a book while you gossip with your friends over the phone and then listen to you rant about it after

just like how he appreciates when you ask about his day while you cook dinner together and ask him all kinds of follow up questions, cause you actually care and want to know!!

Ok but ANYWAY back to study dates:

So like I was saying, not a big talker, but I feel like complete silence would freak him out?? This mf always got his headphones so one of you has got to be playing music while you’re studying, but do you know what this means?

This means that a song has definitely come on that he likes and he totally was humming or even quietly singing along to himself, not really thinking about the fact you were there and can definitely hear him, and as soon as he realizes he would just look at you and shut up SO fast LMAO

Like he’d just get wide eyed and breath in and stop singing and just kind of look up at you AND HIS EARS WOULD BE SO RED (he’s an ear blusher for sure) and he’d do that WHITE BOY SMILE THING WHERE HE HAS DEAD EYES AND HIS MOUTHS A THIN LINE but he’d look so shy and embarrassed plssss and he’d just look back down to his textbook and try not to think about it

And you’d just giggle and he could only groan and be like “let’s move on 😐” BUT YOURE DEFINITELY NOT FORGETTING THAT

But study dates?? Yeah they’re important to you two

Tsukishima would also be constantly making sure you’re taking care of yourself outside of studying, like making sure you’re needs are taken care of since you have a tendency to over look them in the favor of others (which I feel like would really drive him crazy cause you’re his baby!!! He can’t stand that thought !!!)

Like if he saw you offer a friend your last snack knowing you hadn’t eaten enough today he’s slapping a snack in your possession so fast like 😐 eat this, now.

ITS A LITTLE AGGRESSIVE IN THE CALMEST WAY but it’s just cause you’re important to him

The bullying??? Yes he’d love that cause he’s just like 😳‼️ you keep up with him and he’d just love the back and forth between you two so much

Queue the eye rolls and lopsided smirk while he’s grabbing your hand and kissing it telling you to shut up

Regarding your stims - he’d definitely take notice and probably do things like always holding your hand to make sure you aren’t hurting yourself too bad!

I know people have mentioned him not being that big on PDA but I feel like he’d take a neutral stance on it, like holding your hand is so innocent and if it helps you not pinch your wrists or picking at your nails of course he’s gonna do it!! It’s his way of showing you he notices and cares 🖤

Regarding your self confidence, he’d definitely still bully you cause cmon 🙄 this is your guys love language and he knows you know it’s harmless, and the last thing he’d want to do is make you feel like he’s coddling you and suffocating you by not being silly with you the way he normally would

HOWEVER

If anyone else clowns on you whew please it is over for them

Like let’s say you meet the boys and you and hinata are clowning on each other?? Tsuki is NOT playing games LMAO like he’d definitely be like

😐😐 hinata I KNOW you’re not talking and you’d have to remind him in private that it’s ok he doesn’t care he will bully hinata any chance he gets

Okok real talk Tsukishima would think it’s so fucking cool you know how to speak more than one language!!! Not the type to necessarily be like let me hear it 🤠 but if you do speak another language around him he’s always like 🙂 wow, that was pretty cool

Ok also?? Both of you being introverts?? Tsuki is happy to the MAX

Like he just gets to come home to you and detox in his little home and sit with you on the couch and talk about your days and watch whatever you’re feeling and it’s just so recharging for him and he’s so grateful you’re perfectly ok with that :)

And finally, tell me he wouldn’t bully you for your height but also find it so so adorable 🙄‼️

Ahhhh!! Ok here is the acclaimed playlist I made for you!! I hope you enjoy it❣️

Ok I did my best to include your variety of music tastes in here!! But if there’s anything you’d like me to change please feel free to let me know and I will!!

Ahhhh I hope you like it, enjoy my descriptions below!

1. The Most Beautiful Thing - Bruno Major: ok so yes we’re starting this off with a dash of Tsuki angst, as much as I know he’d deny it he yearns for love. Like the idea of someone being so important they get his attention and devotion and they love him the same is sooo comforting to him! And sometimes he would daydream about it like :) I wonder when I’m gonna meet them, I wonder how, I can’t wait - but the way he would he embarrassed if anyone knew this - and when he DOES meet you it is not what he expected LMAO

2. 80’s makeout session - dacelynn:  OK SO HE MEETS YOU and is just like 👁👄👁 and it’s everything he dreamed of, if he was feeling irrational he might’ve even believed it was love at first sight but there’s one problem, the way Tsuki is be lowkey mad he wants your attention LMAO. Like you would meet and he would just look into your eyes and he feels his heart stop; and you’re so nice when you’re introducing yourself to him and your voice is so sweet and he can’t stop thinking about the way your curly hair is framing your face and he just oop 🤒 he got the love bug bad AND HED BE SO MAD cause like, he tries to only do things for himself! And that’s exactly why love was a daydream cause UGH HOW PATHETIC IS HE. He never tries impress anyone else cause he’s his biggest critic anyway, but suddenly he wants to be noticed by you and impress you and the way that would just irk him, but he cant help it 🤷‍♂️ sorry bout it Tsuki

3. IFHY (feat. Pharrell) - Tyler, The Creator: more on Tsuki being mad he likes you LMAO - I think what would push him to get over himself and how it’s kind of scary for him how much he likes you would be imagining what could happen if he DOESNT grow up and just let you know. The thought of you with somebody else? Yeah he don’t like that one bit and that’s when he knows he better suck it up and accept he’s got it for you hard

4. Make Me Your Queen - Declan McKenna: OK CALLING TSUKI SIMPS OUT- you’d want him so bad but he’s so bad at showing his interest!! So on your end it’d be soooo much pining and patience and a little bit desperate like PLS I jus wanna be your s/o man 😕 but don’t worry he likes you just as much, he’s just awful at showing that at first LMAO

5. Kiss Like A Woman - Mona: ok but once Tsuki accepts he’s got it bad, I don’t see him as someone who wastes time at. All. Like he’s like ok well she’s fucking great obviously if I like her cause I have great taste so it’s only a matter of time before someone else tries to get her attention, so I gotta act fast. However, he’s clueless so he’d think he’s being obvious but he’s not. Like he starts his habit of bringing you snacks and water on your study dates before they’re actually dates and you have no idea he likes you. And he thinks he’s being smooth like, how could you not know he likes you? But it’d be the end of your study session and you’re about to leave and he’s been wondering why it seems like maybe you’re not interested? He can’t tell so he’d just be like, “do you like me, too? Or am I making you uncomfortable? I’ve been waiting for you to let me know how you feel but you really haven’t said anything, so.” AND YOUD JUST BE LOOKING AT HIM LIKE 😳🧍🏻‍♀️ and you’re blushing hard so he’s like ok obviously she likes me? And he would kind of tilt his head in your direction and raise his eyebrows waiting for you to answer, cause he still wants to be sure. And you’d hold your books tighter to your chest and nod so fast. He’d walk over to you and kiss you on your cheek and be all, “see you tomorrow, idiot.” And walk off like a bad bitch, cause that was pretty smooth, but once his back is to you and his headphones are on while he’s walking away BOY IS BLUSHING HARDDDD CAUSE HE’S LIKE did I really just do that oh shit 🥴

6. A Sunday Kind Of Love - Etta James: when I mentioned Tsuki liked to think about love this is exactly what I mean. He just wants something so relaxed and devoted and when he gets that with you? WHEW he is not letting that go!!

7. Black Dog - Arlo Parks: ok so this song itself is more intense than for what I’m writing for it and what it inspired me BUT this is really how Tsuki feels when he sees you overworking yourself. He can’t stand to see you stress so much over something, especially if it’s school, and then see you push your own limits in the favor of others. It’d definitely be a day where you come to his house to study but when you guys get there instead of pulling out the stuff from his bag he just sets it down and walks over to you and pulls you into his chest. After holding you for a while, he pulls back and makes you look up at him with his hands on your cheeks and leans down to kiss your forehead. “Are you ok?” It’s such a simple question but it really hits home and it’s one of the first times you guys simultaneously realize how much you care for each other. And you’d just hug him tighter and he decides nap time holds a little priority over studying right now.

8. come out and play - Billie Eilish: as smooth as Tsukishima can be or as clueless as he is, he’s also a shy lover for sure. It will take him a while to be genuinely soft and let his walls down and be vulnerable and tell you how much he cares about you, he try’s to show it as best as he can cause it can be easier than looking into your pretty eyes that make him all nervous and choke on his words while he tries to tell you he loves you. So it’ll take some coaxing and you being patient, but he’ll get there eventually and become more confident with his declarations of love.

9. Pleaser - Wallows: more on Tsuki being shy LMAO he wants to tell you he loves you SO BAD but he just cannot make himself do it

10. I’m Glad There Is You - Julie London: ok you mentioned slow dancing in the kitchen type songs? Stop it this is the one - to me this is the introvert love anthem , perfect for you two right? Like you’d be playing music in the kitchen while you two are cooking and this song would come on and normally he’s not a person who shows his affection much but this song would just get to him? Like he almost wants to cry??? He just looks at you, and maybe you’re humming a little, he really can’t tell but he doesn’t care cause you’re just so bright and gorgeous and the more he hears the song, the more his heart is starting to swell thinking of you. And so he wouldn’t be able to help himself. He’d just come up behind you and lean down so his head his resting on top of yours and his arms are wrapped around you. He leans down a little farther and presses a soft but long kiss to your cheek and just whispers how he loves you and hugs you tight one more time before going back to his part of cooking dinner; as if that wasn’t the first time he was finally able to tell you that.

11. Linger In My Arms A Little Longer Baby - Peggy Lee: kitchen dancing music kitchen dancing music kitchen dancing music !! I feel like once Tsuki dances with you ONCE he’d be addicted 😶 like you just look so happy and it hits him in his gut in the best way and he’d kill to feel like that with you again 🖤

12. Sweet Creature - Harry Styles: stop I fucking love Harry styles when I say Tsuki sees you as his home I MEAN it, it doesn’t matter what happens between you two. Sure, like any couple you guys argue and it can be rough sometimes, problems can arise it’s natural. But Tsukishima would never be the type to say something he doesn’t mean or do anything to ruin the relationship, you’re his person and no matter how much you two argue he’d always be sure you know he loves you and you’re the most important thing to him, and you’re very aware of that.

13. I Think I Like It When It Rains - Willis: ok a little bit of angst! In those difficult moments, sure sometimes Tsuki does wish it was like how it was a while ago when the pining and awkwardness was still there and you would go home after studying and you’d both still be giddy and trying to calm yourselves down. Cause the pining and awkward feelings were easy to solve, but these problems are harder, they’re the ones you solve for the long haul. But once he takes a breather he knows this is so much more important and worth it, and he’s reminded of how much he really loves you.

14. I CHOOSE YOU - Adam Melchor: you really would be living in Tsukis mind rent free LMAO and while he was all grumpy at first at the fact he even wanted your attention he’s so happy now it’s so cute pls. He goes to the store and sees something you like?? Yeah he’s buying it. Hears a song you might like? He adds it to the playlist you guys share (yes you would have one from when you would study together all the time and you’ve just kept it and he always add songs to it still for you) all in all, you take up his mind 25/8 now and he’s accepted it with a smile on his face

15. this is how you fall in love - Jeremy Zucker, Chelsea Cutler: introvert love anthem #2, this is literally so cheesy and I hope it fits your taste but anyways!! Falling in love is just so easy for you guys, it’s the easiest thing Tsuki’s ever done, and he holds a lot of pride to that statement.

——————

that’s it!!! That’s the thing!! Gosh I really hope you like it !! Thank you for being so patient and kind to me again, and don’t forget to message me if you need a change

-🐇out

[hiraeth-doux]

i am still running

summary: When Barry Allen runs a hundred years into the past to save Diana’s long-lost pilot, he doesn’t know that he is giving her the greatest gift of all.

author’s note: This is a @wondertrevnet Secret Santa gift for @blueincandescence :) I hope I did it justice! Happy holidays!

AO3

1918

“Steve.”

Diana’s voice breaks through the deafening bellow of massive propellers and the roar of blood in his ears, muffled by the wind and the distance between them.

He wavers, for just a moment. Wants to look at her one last time. His throat closes up, his heart so heavy in his chest he doesn’t know how it doesn’t weigh him down to the cold concrete of the airfield that vibrates slightly beneath his feet.

Steve clenches his teeth and surges forward. To look back is to change his mind – he knows it, like he knows that it is not a luxury they can afford. There is no time. If she is who she has been claiming to be all along, if she really can stop this terror then he knows she will, but she can’t be everywhere at once. One of them needs to take care of the deadly gas.

It has to be me.

He has come to this war to make a difference, and he hates that having to choose between Diana and millions of people is the price he must pay for it.

He knows she will understand, though. Knows that she would have done the same thing.

It is the path they have both chosen.

One last burst of effort, and he is climbing into the airplane, fighting his way toward the cockpit. It is easy to move when he has a goal, a clear plan. He tries not to think of Diana, of her disoriented confusion. Tries not to think of the way she looked at him last night, of what her lips tasted like—

Steve sinks into the pilot’s seat, his hands moving on the will of their own as they steer the plane forward, his muscle memory, strong and steady, no match for his scattered mind. For a moment, he can swear he hears her calling his name again, but he brushes the thought off - she is too far away. Must be the wind.

The altitude is making him dizzy, blurring his vision.

The inside of the plane smells of gasoline and metal.

Steve leans back in his seat. He closes his eyes and takes a breath.

He doesn’t think of breaking more promises or wish that things were different for them, but his finger trembles on the trigger nonetheless.

When the fire starts licking at his skin, he thinks of dancing in the snow.

—

2018

The air is fresh.

It is the first thing that Steve notices when his mind swims back to consciousness. It has been so long since he breathed anything but death and blood and gunpowder smoke that despite the fog in his head and dull throbbing in his skull, it is the smell of cold soil and old autumnal grass near his face that snaps him into wakefulness. Even more so than a rock jutting into his shoulder blade.

The other thing is the voice.

“—come on, man. Wake up.” It fades in and out a little, muffled, “God, she’s gonna kill me,” followed by an urgent whisper: “Hey, come on. Steve? Are you Steve?”

There is a tapping on his cheek. And then the other one.

Steve’s chest constricts when he inhales sharply, his lungs expanding as if he’d come up from underwater. He blinks his eyes open, squinting against the brightness of the day even though the sky above him is low and grey.

He is on his back, lying on the cold ground. There is a line of trees to the right from him, blurred in the periphery of his vision; the chilly breeze smells intoxicatingly of snow.

“There you are!” The chipper voice makes him wince a little. “I was starting to get worried–”

He blinks once more, and a face hovering above him shifts into focus. Half a face. Steve’s brows pull together in confusion. There is a man sitting beside him and trying to rouse him - and quite unceremoniously, too. The upper half of his face is hidden under a red mask with some yellow insignia on either side of his head. When Steve looks at him, he breaks into a smile so bright that it is tempting to smile back.

If only he knew what the actual hell was happening to him.

“Look,” he man tones down his enthusiasm. His eyes dart around for a moment or two before he leans closer to Steve, his voice dropping again. “I kinda miscalculated the return point a little bit, but don’t tell Clark. I’ll never live it down.” He makes a face. “Hang in for a little while longer, okay?”

None of this makes any sense. Steve’s eyes drop from the man’s fast-moving lips to his shoulders and then down to his torso, all wrapped in a red suit, tight as a second skin. He tries to think but his brain feels like it is made of jelly, his stomach tied into a queasy knot.

The black sky above Belgium… the plane… Diana.

Headache explodes behind his eyes.

This must be a dream.

“What–” he starts, his mouth dry and his voice croaky. He swallows and wants to try again, but when darkness closes over him once more, he is grateful.

—

There are ten feet and a hundred years between them.

Diana stares at him from across the room in the glass house where the smiley guy who introduced himself as Barry has brought Steve a little while ago. Her face is ashen like she is seeing a ghost, and when she looks at him like that he is not sure he is not one. Even from his spot fifteen feet away from her, he hears her shuddered inhale. His heart drops into his stomach.

The year is 2018, according to Barry and an older man with thin-rimmed glasses sitting on the tip of his nose who opened the door for them when they arrived. A hundred years from the day when he climbed into a German airplane to help Diana stop the God of War from plunging the world into endless chaos. A hundred years that were crumpled and compressed into the few minutes that it took Barry to drag him all the way into the future – Steve chooses not to think of this just yet.

He doesn’t believe that what Barry has told him is true, and Diana doesn’t either, if the look of shock on her face is any indication.

Her eyes roam over his features for several long moments. Someone is talking. There are other people in the room – Barry, the butler whose name Steve missed the first time around, and two other men. If he wasn’t so busy trying to stop his heart from breaking through his ribcage and leaping out of his chest, Steve would probably find it fascinating that the face of one of them if half-covered with a metal plate.

She doesn’t believe that he is real, and he can’t fault her for it. He wants to move toward her, but he is not sure how. Not sure if he can because it has been so long and you can’t walk across time. Yet, he remembers the way she felt in his arms only last night, when the fire went out in the grate without either of them noticing for they didn’t need it. Not when they had one another to keep warm.

The memory is so bright it all but makes him keel over, blood roaring in his ears.

A hundred years…

He stares back.

Diana looks the same but also so strikingly different that Steve is not sure whether to be excited or perplexed, and it is not her hair, slicked back, or her black pants and a fitted long-sleeved shirt – she is dressed like a man but he decides not to dwell on that, or how curious Etta would have been. It is in her eyes, guarded and full of doubt. The Diana he had met on the Paradise Island was starry-eyed and hopeful beyond anything he had ever seen. The woman standing before him now is anything but.

He doesn’t want to know what she has gone through to have the spark that shone brighter than the sun itself grow dim. Not yet.

“Steve,” Diana breathes, and even though her voice is so soft that it barely carries across the space between them, it still feels like a sucker punch that nearly sends him down to his knees.

Steve swallows, hard, and tries to smile. “Hey.”

Someone is speaking. Barry, Steve thinks, but he is not sure. Someone is trying to explain all of this to her. He doesn’t think she is listening; knows he certainly is not. Doesn’t care much for what is being said, either.

All he wants is to look at her, take her in the way he never had a chance to. Before, they were always running out of time.

“Can’t be…” she whispers, shaking her head.

He finds his voice and says, “It’s me.”

A strangled sob rises in her throat. Her hand flies up to her mouth and he watches her face crumple.

“Diana…”

When she slams into him with the full force of an Amazon warrior, he staggers backwards, nearly taking them both down to the floor. Doesn’t care that she has knocked all wind out of him, too relieved, too… everything. He catches her in his arms and gathers her to him, only now realizing that he is shaking all over.

The past hour of his life might have felt like a dream, but this is real. Diana is real. She is warm and solid and so very here. Steve buries his face in the curve of her neck and breathes her in, and god help him, she smells wonderful. Like sunshine and home, and it makes something snap loose inside of him. All the time he has spent holding back – he can’t take it anymore.

“Steve,” she breathes. He feels her lips brush along his jaw ever so briefly. She is saying something, asking something but her voice drowns in a thunderous sound of his heartbeat.

For him, it has only been a few hours, and he still can’t imagine missing her more.

Her hands move over his face, lean fingers skittering over his cheeks, pushing his hair back from his forehead. He can see tears in her eyes, her smile is weak and watery, and the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

“You’re back,” Diana murmurs, cupping his face in her hands, dark eyes flicking between the blue ones as though she is still waiting for him to disappear like a dream. “I don’t—I don’t understand. I watched you–”

She cuts off, a shadow of anguish crossing her face.

When Steve leans in and kisses her, desperate to wipe the last memory she has of him from her mind, he can feel salt on her mouth – hers or his, he has no idea. She kisses him back, deeply and hungrily, a century of longing poured into one touch, enough to leave him dazed and disoriented and breathless. And so alive he can feel it thrumming in his blood. Diana’s hands push through his hair, her arms wind around his neck and he holds her closer, scared beyond words to lose her again.

She feels the same, tastes the same, and after everything it is almost too much to bear.

Steve makes a mental note to thank the cheerful Barry later, but the thought is fleeting. The room falls away. He doesn’t care for anyone standing there. He is lost in her and he doesn’t want to be found.

—

Everything around them is a blur.

Steve doesn’t remember when everyone leaves, or how, but one moment he and Diana are standing in the centre of what appears to be a living room, the weak autumnal sun inching its way towards the horizon outside, and then it is dark and they are sitting on the floor with their backs against the glass wall overlooking the deck and a lake beyond it. The reading lamp on the side table by the couch is switched on, filling the room with warm light, and while Steve knows that they are not alone in the house, he can’t hear anyone else.

His arm is around Diana and her hand idly traces the collar of his shirt. She can’t seem to stop touching him and Steve doesn’t mind. He hasn’t looked away from her once.

His thick coat and the jacket of his stolen German uniform are draped over the back of one of the chairs, a silent reminder of the collision of time. He is yet to understand how they are going to go about all of this because her brows furrow whenever her gaze drifts to his clothes and it is clear that she is no more fond of those memories than he is. He doesn’t want her to remember.

Steve slides a knuckle under her chin, lifting her face to his, and kisses her again, softly.

“I can’t believe this,” Diana murmurs against his lips.

“Yeah, well….” He lets out a short laugh and shakes his head. “Is it really 2018? I can’t exactly… it’s a hard one to process.”

She smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and his heart slams hard against his ribs. God, he loves her smile. She raises her hand to stroke her thumb along his jaw and nods. “It is.”

He nods, too. “I–” he clears his throat. “I—I’m sorry,” he mutters.

She frowns. “Steve…”

“That night,” he continues quickly, his eyes moving over her face. The same face. It’s been so long… how is it possible? He swallows. “I wasn’t planning to—I didn’t want to—it happened so fast.” He is stuttering and babbling but he doesn’t know how to stop. She is watching him quietly, and he tries to remember what it was that he wanted to tell her but never had a chance to. “I’m sorry for leaving you, Diana. I’m sorry that you had to do this on your own for long. I’m so sorry for—for everything.”

She touches his cheek. “Steve.”

When he looks up, her eyes are kind. He leans closer to her and rests their heads together.

“You’re here now,” she tells him, and he feels the weight of guilt lift off his chest. Just barely, but it’s a start. “There is nothing to forgive.” If it wasn’t for his arm wrapped around her, he is certain he would have flown away.

“I still don’t understand,” he admits, glancing around the room before he turns to her again.

“I will explain, I promise.” Diana runs her fingertips down his cheek and Steve covers her hand with his, turning into her touch to kiss her palm. “I will tell you everything you want to know.”

He nods once more.

He has questions, so many of them, but they all fade in comparison to the enormity to what has happened to him, to them. A chance he has never dared to hope for. Everything he has ever wanted right there, his for the taking. They have known each for one week - and a hundred years - and his heart feels so full that he can hardly breathe.

“Diana,” he starts, unsure where he was going with it. His thoughts are a jumbled mess, and she is watching him, her gaze full of wonder, making him forget how to think.

She is so beautiful, and because he doesn’t know what else to say, he says just that.

She smiles. Her hand curls over his jaw. “I missed you,” she says softly.

Steve feels the corners of his mouth tug upwards. “I missed you, too,” he confesses, which sounds odd and silly – he is not the one who has spent a century without her – and it makes her laugh a little.

He reaches behind her to pull the elastic band off of her hair and it cascades down her shoulders. She doesn’t stop him as he threads his fingers through the heavy mass, soft and smooth against his skin.

She presses a kiss to the side of his chin and rests her forehead against his again. “You look good for a 136-year old,” she tells him.

Steve laughs. “And how old are you, again?” He teases. They are quiet for a few moments, content in the comfort of each other’s presence.

After a while, he takes a breath, bracing himself for whatever comes next. “So, where do we go from here?” He asks, yearning for her answer and scared of it all at once. He would have done anything for her, anything to be with her, but a hundred years is a long time, and he doesn’t want to presume, not even after—

A void opens up between them. A hundred years feel like forever.

“What do you want to do, Steve?” Diana asks.  

He watches her watch him as he searches for words.

He is a man who infiltrated Ludendorff’s circle, a man who walked – well, rode – into the German High Command like it was nothing, a man who climbed into a plane packed to the brim with poisonous gas and flew toward his death. He has done all that, and yet he has never been more terrified than he is right now. No one has ever told him that baring his heart and soul before someone he loves could feel so paralyzing.

Diana is still waiting, the pause stretching between them.

Steve twists a strand of her hair around his finger. He swallows. “I want—I want to do everything we didn’t get to do… the first time around,” he says, hoping against all hope that those are the right words. “To pick up where we’ve left off.”

“I would like that,” she whispers. “I would like that very much.”

She stands up and offers him her hand, “Come with me.”

Steve grabs onto it like it’s a lifeline and he is a drowning man and she is his salvation. Always has been.

He follows her through the quiet house and down the hallway to the last door on the left. She pushes it open and steps into the dark room, pulling him inside after her. She closes the door and turns around. Her hands reach for him, smoothing over the planes of his chest like she still can’t quite accept that he is standing right there, made of flesh and blood.

Steve lets her, watching her brows furrow ever so slightly, barely resisting the urge to smooth that frown out with his thumb.

“Diana…”

She takes a shaky breath and looks up to meet his eyes.

“You must be tired,” she whispers as she lifts her hand to touch his hair near his temple.

“Not that tired,” he says, his mouth suddenly dry because he doesn’t quite believe that he is real either, or that she is, or anyone else in the house, in this time. It felt so much more different with the smiling Barry and the rest of them around. Here, alone with her, the air feels charged and thick, filled with unsaid words and promises he never got to keep.

Her fingers curl over fistfuls of his shirt and she pulls him to her. When she kisses him, there is a different kind of hunger, different kind of longing to her touch than before. The one that coils his belly into a tight knot and sets his blood on fire. It demands and claims and consumes, and Steve is happy to oblige and surrender. He is breathing her like she is the air, the light, the everything.

“Are you sure?” He rasps when he comes up for air, his head swimming and her eyes the one thing he can see.

Diana doesn’t hesitate. “I am.”

Later, he sleeps at last, his arms wrapped tightly around her body, their legs tangled together, his mind at peace. And for once, for the first time since the war consumed them, he doesn’t dream.

—

The world is a mess.

So much more of a mess than Steve could ever have imagined. It leaves his mind reeling.

He has always prided himself on being adaptable, on coping well with changes, but that was before the reality of the future slammed into him like a freight train. There is no keeping up with it now, no taking his new life in stride. There is only holding on with all his might and praying that he is not thrown off at the next curve.

And boy, oh boy, are there many of those.

Diana tells him the truth. About herself and Ares and the secrets that her mother kept close to her heart for longer than mankind remembered itself. There is an edge to her voice when she speaks Hippolyta’s name and it catches in her throat, and Steve knows that the wound is still open and bleeding. That it might take another century for it to heal.

She tells him about the Justice League, too, and while he is fascinated, by the time she is done talking he has realized that he is not surprised it’s where he path took her. It’s in her blood. He can’t imagine her standing aside and watching the world burn. It’s a bittersweet feeling, too – pride mixed with understanding that she has had a whole life that he wasn’t and never will be a part of.

Steve thinks of her first day in his world, on the streets of London, curious and determined and taken aback by just about everything around her. Now she belongs here more than he does, and he has yet to wrap his mind around that.

The regret quells when he sees the fond look on her face, hears affection in her voice when she speaks of the other members of her team. In the few days that he has known them, he has grown to understand the sentiment, and if nothing else, he is happy that she has found her place.

“So, you guys are saving the world, huh?” He muses with a smile when she falls silent.

Diana shakes her head. “We are doing our best to keep peace,” she corrects, suddenly wistful. “The world can’t be saved, Steve. Not when it is set on the path of destruction, not from itself. But we can protect it—try to protect it when nobody else will.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that. His instinct is to reassure her but even in his mind, the words sound empty. He knows better than to feed them to her.  

One day, Steve thinks, he will ask her to tell him about the darkness she has seen and walked through, but the scars are too raw yet. He can see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice; she carries it inside of her like he does his own. Too raw and too tender to the touch, and it is not the pain that he wants to bring back.

They have time, he reminds himself, and lets the subject rest for now.

—

The world is a mess, and Steve has never felt more like a fish out of water before.

He is a little amused and a little insulted when Barry asks him if he knows what a refrigerator is. After all, 1918 wasn’t that long ago. But then Diana has to go back to Paris and he follows – there is no question about whether or not he would. He would have followed her to the edge of the world if she so wished, eagerly and gladly.

The feeling is thrilling and exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

In Steve’s memories, Paris is the city filled with pain and people trying to escape the horrors of the war. The city of hospitals for the injured and a refuge for people running away from the terrors of the front. He remembers grey streets and grey faces, the whole place a smudge in his mind like someone ran an eraser over a pencil drawing. It used to smell of dust and smoke and desperation, bleak image with bleak future.

Diana’s Paris is nothing like that. It is bright and colourful and loud. God, so loud. It sets off his inner alarms and makes him look over his shoulder more often than not. It is packed with locals and tourists, cars honking and cameras flashing. Even in the late November, with its endless rains and cutting winds, it is bursting with life.

Steve tries to match those two Parises together in his head and fails, relieved that hers is nothing like what he feared it might be and scared that it is yet another piece of puzzle that doesn’t quite fit, and might never do. Once again, he thinks of Diana stepping into his world for the first time, his life alien and wild to her. And he wonders if she felt just as lost then as he does now, or if it is different for him because he is looking instinctively for something familiar but comes up empty each time?

Her home is an obstacle course that he needs to navigate with the care and precision of a trained soldier. His boot camp has nothing on Diana’s kitchen with its shiny appliances that confuse and terrify him more than an army of angry Germans. He doesn’t understand why a stovetop needs so many settings, and apparently there is absolutely nothing like a ‘smart’ phone to make a person feel irrevocably dumb.

Steve is not used to feeling so helpless, so hopeless. So out of control.

“You know that I don’t care about whether or not you can use the toaster, right?” Diana asks him one night.

“A waffle-maker,” Steve corrects, frustrated. He has figured out the toaster, thank you very much.

She presses her lips together and tries not to laugh, earning a glare from him in response.

“I almost set your kitchen on fire,” Steve grumbles under his breath.

“That’s what we have a fire extinguisher for,” she points out, amused.

He hums noncommittally and shakes his head, looking away.

A moment later, her arms slide around his waist and she presses close to him. She rests her chin on his shoulder and a shuddered breath stutters unevenly from his chest. He curls his hands around her forearms, thumbs brushing over her wrists.

“And it is our kitchen,” Diana adds – something the she has said before but the sense of belonging hasn’t quite settled yet. Being adrift for so long, he wonders if it ever will. She presses a kiss to his shoulder, warm even through the fabric of his shirt. “Steve?”

“Hm?”

“What if it was me?”

He half-turns to her. “What?”

“After the war, if you—” she falters for a moment.

They never talk of the before, dancing artfully around the subject of his demise that didn’t quite happen, but also did. Sure, they have spoken about Charlie and Etta and Sameer and Chief, trading the stories from his time with them and hers, but there is a wall around that night, an unspoken agreement to never take it down. She is treading carefully along it now, balancing on the edge of it, and there is a tug in his stomach when she comes close to falling over.

“If it worked out differently and you lived, would it have mattered to you that I didn’t know a thing about your life?” She asks quietly.

He thinks of her on the boat, telling him that London looked hideous, in Selfridge’s under Etta’s watchful eye, in the council – equally fascinated and shocked, and his lips twitch a little, the irony in the reversal of their roles not lost on him. He remembers his own amusement and exasperation, their race against time and his desire to slow it down.

“No, of course not,” Steve says decisively. He turns around in the circle of her arms, feeling his shoulders relax, tension draining out of tight knots of his muscles. Diana nuzzles into him, tucking her face into the curve of his neck, her breath warm on his skin, and he wraps his arms around her. “Never.”

“Then why should it matter to me?”

He huffs, unable to argue with his own reasoning.

Some spy, he muses. If he allowed himself to be cornered like that on a mission, he’d be dead within a day. But, as it turns out, that’s the effect Diana has on him. Instant and absolute surrender.

It’s not about that, though. It’s not the coffee machine or her laptop that make him pause in his tracks and do a double-take at his new life. Not the new clothes that fit right but still occasionally make him feel like he is wearing someone else’s persona. He can’t say it, won’t say it, but there are still moments when he is acutely aware of the abyss between them. The one that’s always been there and might always remain.

He has yet to understand by grace of what gods did he get someone like her to love someone like him.

She is a princess and a goddess with a heart of gold. She could have had anything, anyone, and this is not something Steve takes lightly; she could have this whole world at her feet. There is never a moment when he feels like he needs to prove something to her, that he needs to earn her love and affection, but part of him still wants to know that he is worthy, and there are times when it’s not that simple.

But she is right, too. If their situation was reversed, he wouldn’t have cared for a moment. He would have wanted to be with her and he would give himself to her without hesitation. His heart – a little worse for wear but still beating, his soul – a little tired and frail around the edges, his mind and body, and everything in between.

“I love you,” he whispers into her ear.

Never tires of saying it.

—

Steve stops looking for reasoning.

Somebody told him once, a long time ago, that you don’t love someone because of their good qualities but despite their bad ones. Steve knows now that it is bullshit. He doesn’t love Diana because she is generous and kind and full of light, or because she makes his heart beat at a different pace. And he doesn’t love her in spite of her uncompromising stubbornness and impulsiveness.

He just does – because he can. Because he is lucky to have her.

He stops trying to justify it in his mind because it is not a rabbit’s hole he wants to jump into. And more importantly, he no longer feels like he needs to.

He is still learning and it’s infuriating at times. It is not just the technology and the settings on the washing machine that won’t ruin his new clothes. It is everything. The world is made of new rules – how to speak, how to act, how to be. It is a process of trial and error, and there are moments when he needs to remind himself to take a breath. The future is not going anywhere.

He likes Netflix and hates crossword puzzles because everything has changed and he doesn’t know any answers anymore. They invented a new world and gave birth to new people while he didn’t exist. How the hell is he supposed to know who the 39th President of the United States was? When did they get so many of them? Before he died, they were only on the 28th. He likes the cars and doesn’t quite appreciate Indian food that is too spicy for his palate. He does understand the concept of inflation but every trip to the supermarket feels like being robbed in broad daylight.

“We can afford some strawberries, Steve.” Diana picks the crate that he tries to shove back into the fridge and puts it into their cart.

She bites her lip around a smile, and he feels his face grow hot.  

Just looking at the price tags is making him mildly sick.

“You could eat for a week on that,” Steve mutters under his breath but doesn’t try to remove anything else from the cart. She will probably send him to wait for her in the car if he does, he suspects, and chooses not to mention that strawberries are not even in season.

Diana shakes her head, her expression sympathetic. “Not anymore, I’m afraid. Not for a while.”

He huffs through his nose.

She loops her arm through his while he ignores an older lady with a young girl giving them curious looks.

Half the time, he can’t help but feel like he is drowning in information that seem to come easily to everyone but him.

He learns not to ask questions when he is not ready for answers.

—

The snow falls two weeks later, thick flakes that come late at night and turn the world outside the bedroom window into something enthralling and surreal.

Steve is sprawled half over her, his head on Diana’s chest and her arms wrapped around him, his breathing yet to be found. He can feel her fingers thread through his hair, damp with sweat, her heart hammering away in earnest into his ear.

He tries to shift his weight off of her. “I’m heavy,” he slurs, utterly spent, but Diana tightens her hold on him.

“I like it,” she whispers into his hairline and he doesn’t have it in him to protest. Not when there is a smile in her voice and he is too boneless to move.

He likes feeling every inch of her body with every inch of his. Can’t get enough of her.

There is still an edge of desperation to her touch sometimes – like she can’t hold him close enough, like she is scared that he might slip right through her fingers. Steve is not afraid of losing her, not really. Not the same way she had lost him for a hundred years. But he is, too, because she is the best thing that has ever happened to him and he doesn’t trust it to last. Doesn’t trust whatever powers-that-be that spin the wheel of fortune high above them and dictate their fates not to screw him over. It has happened before, after all, and he wouldn’t be surprised.

However, that is not to say that he doesn’t trust Diana. He trusts her more than anyone in all of creation and part of him knows that he should be wary of it, but he is not. She sees right through him when even he wants to look away. She takes him apart and puts him back together without losing even the small parts in the process, and somehow in the end he is a better version of himself than he was before. She calls him out on his bullshit but so does he, without hesitation, and sometimes it feels like a balance.

Other times, it makes him want to laugh.

They will both have to figure this out one way or another eventually, but he is not in a hurry. Truth is, he wouldn’t have minded spending forever doing just that.  

“Like Veld,” Diana says quietly when he starts to doze off, snapping him back into wakefulness.

Steve focuses on the snow storm. He feels her sigh against him and holds her closer still.

“Do you remember Veld?” He asks. Can’t help but ask. Can’t help but ask so many things.

The memory is strikingly bright in his mind, every word, every touch seared into his brain for the rest of eternity. But, technically, it has only been three weeks for him. It has been a century for Diana. He wouldn’t have faulted her memory for getting blurry.

He feels her hand move through his hair once more. “I do.”

“What do you remember?” Steve traces a pattern over her shoulder with his fingers as the whiteness outside grows nearly absolute.

“Charlie singing,” Diana whispers, smiling.

“Somewhat off-key,” Steve adds with a chuckle, a low sound rumbling in his chest.

She laughs a little and he feels the curve of her lips when she brushes a kiss to his forehead. “Us dancing,” she continues.

“Swaying,” he corrects her like she did back then.

“Swaying,” she echoes, amused. “The room above the inn…”

This time, when Steve pulls back and props himself up on his elbow, Diana doesn’t stop him. His gaze trail over her face. He brushes her hair from her cheek, so drunk on her he can’t think straight.

“Yeah?” He smiles.

She grins back at him, and then laughs, her eyes crinkling, and the sound of it makes his heartbeat stutter and trip in his chest.

Talking about the past makes him realize how fleeting the present could be, and how uncertain the future is, no matter how carefully they plan it. There are reasons why this can’t work out, and reasons why it will. He decides that Diana’s smile belongs with the latter category.

Steve wants to live forever because he wants to never forget. Not anything, not a single thing. For other reasons, too, but mostly this, he thinks. Until she kisses him, and he forgets how to think for a long while.

—

Diana doesn’t have a Christmas tree. Doesn’t have a box of mismatched ornaments, either. Never has. All those years in his world, and parts of it are still as alien to her as they were when she first arrived there.  

It comes up during dinner one night and is said in passing, without a hint of wistfulness – it never felt like her place, like her tradition to adhere to or her celebration to enjoy – before she moves on to telling him about her day.

Steve stares at her for a long moment, not quite sure how to feel about it, or what to say. It’s not a big deal, he knows that. In the grand scheme of things, it’s nothing at all. But maybe he could—

Maybe he could–

And just like that, Steve Trevor is a man on a mission again.

The last Christmas he can remember is the one from when he was 9, and his chest constricts with a rueful twitch even though the memory is blurred and frayed and out of focus. He hasn’t thought of that winter in so long that he can barely pull the images from the back of his mind – the candle-lit table and modest but delicious meal, the smell of food rich in his mind, and them sitting together at the table by the fireplace as the storm raged behind snow-frosted windows.

On impulse, he tries to conjure the sound of his mother’s voice but it fades off into nothing. Not even a hint of it left behind.

He wonders where those memories went and what took their place, and what happened before or after that made the magic fade. The war, he thinks. So much of it that for the longest time he didn’t know how anything else would ever fit. Good things, too. Friends and shared moments of connection; belly laughs when good spirit was all they had.

Disappointment cuts through him and he shakes his head, forcing himself to stay focused.

Steve hasn’t thought of Christmas in forever and a half. The war never took a break for celebrations, and besides, when each day they woke up and got to see the sun felt like a miracle, if seemed foolish to consider a holiday something special. Sometimes, he feels like the war has lasted for decades. Like it has never ended.

It is not about Christmas though, he decides in the end. Not really. Not in the general sense of things.

He knows he doesn’t need to earn Diana’s love any more than she needs to earn his – and god help him, she never did. He has loved her since the moment he met her. Maybe since before then even – he can no longer remember not feeling the burning tightness of it in his chest, the force of it thrumming in his veins. But it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t want to give her everything, and while laying the world at her feet and fetching each star from the sky might not necessarily be a practical plan, maybe he can start somewhere else.

Somewhere smaller, for now.

Steve has Diana’s credit card. He has only used it on groceries before, and – once – to buy her flowers. And even though she has told him many times that he can, he should, do whatever he wants with it, he has never taken her up on her offer before.

It is burning a hole in his pocket when he steps into the department store and reminds himself to breathe. The place is loud. It’s packed and full of colour and it sets him on edge (because apparently you can take a man out of the war but you can’t take the war out of a man). It makes him want to turn around and retreat to safety, wherever that might be.

Yet, there is no gunfire outside and no planes in the sky dropping bombs on the city. When hi heartbeat settles, he realizes that it is excitement that surrounds him, and so he squares his shoulders and marches on, wishing he’d made a list and worried that he will forget something.

“Is there something in particular you’re looking for?” A sales assistant whose name tag reads Jen asks Steve when she finds him gaping at the shelves and trying to wrap his mind around the choices that he doesn’t know how to make.

He blinks at her. “Huh?”

Is there?

The list would have been handy right now.

He thinks of Diana and the things that she likes – books with deep meaning but also comic strips in the morning paper and strong tea on cold nights, she likes breakfast food and wearing his shirts and having her hair down, and she really likes that thing that he does with his tongue—

Not helping.

Not helping at all.

Steve clears his throat, feeling the back of his neck grow hot.

Maybe he does need some help, just this once, because he has never felt this out of time in his life, and there is a very good chance that it will take him another hundred years to get used to the world that is no longer his, but he doesn’t have a hundred years. He only has two days.

—

He would have been surprised if everything went as smoothly as he planned so of course it doesn’t.

Steve is a decent enough cook as long as basic survival is concerned – he can assemble a mean sandwich, pour milk into cereal without spilling it, and no one makes those instant noodles like he does, hands down. However, cooking a meal is not the same thing, and even though he is fairly certain that is it not a complete disaster – hey, at least the kitchen is not on fire! – he is sceptical about the overall result.

He is debating the dilemma of lumps in mashed potatoes and whether or not it’s worth giving that mixer thing another try when Diana comes home earlier than he expected, pink-cheeked and with the snow melting on her wool coat.

He hasn’t noticed that it started again.

She is early and he hasn’t cleaned the cooking counter yet and the roast is going to need another half hour in the oven, provided he figured out how to use the damn thing correctly, and even though he knows that none of this has to be perfect – because nothing and no one is, except maybe for Diana herself but she would never agree with him if Steve told her that – he still wishes that he had more time.

For a long moment, Diana stands frozen in the doorway, her hand on the knob, her eyes moving over the Christmas tree that takes up the whole corner, adorned with bright ornaments that don’t look quite like those that Steve’s mother kept in the box that always made him think of pirates and hidden treasures, but they are shiny and pretty and, dammit, he tried his best. She takes in fairy lights strung around the room and two rather tacky-looking socks hanging over the fireplace and more ornaments that he attempted to be creative with.

(There is a present for her in one of the stockings, too. The best idea he could come up with on such a short notice that he didn’t have to pay for with her own money. It’s a braided leather bracelet that Chief made for him a while ago. He called it a good luck charm, and while Steve didn’t believe in luck, never had, he carried it with him. Perhaps because he has always believed in friendship and gratitude above all else.  

He found it in the pocket of his pants the morning after Barry brought him back, the only thing he still had from his own time, aside from his father’s watch.

There is not much else he can give her, except for his heart maybe, but she already has it so a bracelet will have to do.)

“Steve,” Diana breathes, turning to him, and he is suddenly very aware of her apron that he is wearing and the flour on his hands and how half the kitchen is a mess while the other half is only a step above it.

“I thought you had a meeting,” he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind, and grimaces when it comes out like he doesn’t want her there. Because he does. He always does.  

She smiles. “I cancelled it. It’s the last day before the holidays, I sent everyone home early.”

He nods and glances around in panic, his mind racing. He turns back to her and clears his throat.

“It was meant to be a surprise,” he confesses.

Diana presses her lips around a smile. “So I see.”

“You weren’t supposed to be here yet,” he adds.

“I figured.”

She steps into the apartment and closes the door, pausing for a second to notice a wreath framing the peephole. (Steve still can remember how they used to make those themselves but now one could buy a hundred wreaths of any shape and colour like it’s nothing, and for some reason, it is mildly disorienting.)

He fumbles with the apron belt until he can yank it off and tries to smooth down his hair—and great, now there is flour in his hair, too. Smooth, Trevor. Very smooth. This is not how it was supposed to happen, he thinks. He had it planned out, and…

And he doesn’t care about any of that, not one bit, because Diana crosses the hallway and walks over to him. She shrugs off her coat and drapes it over the back of the chair – and he catches the fresh scent of winter clinging to her clothes - before dipping her finger into a bowl of sauce he has been working on when she walked in.

“This is good,” she tells him after licking it clean.

Steve gapes at her, his jaw slack. She bites her lip, trying not to laugh, and it is suddenly more than he can handle. He reaches for her, his fingers curling around her hips to pull her closer until there is no space and no air left between them, and then he kisses her like it’s been months and not mere hours since the last time he did just that.

Diana kisses him back, her hands winding into his hair.

“You didn’t have to do so this, Steve,” she murmurs against his lips when he pulls back.

He rests his forehead against hers and traces his thumb along her cheekbone. “I wanted to.”

She smiles at him. “It smells wonderful.”

Steve makes a face. “Don’t say that until you’ve actually tried it,” he warns, his voice self-deprecating. “That… um, Google thing wasn’t very helpful, if I’m being honest.”

He feels her nails scratch through his hair at the nape of his neck. “You’re a marvel,” Diana whispers, shaking her head a little, and kisses him again.

—

They eat, and even though there could be fewer lumps in mashed potatoes and the roast could have used some more seasoning, it is not half as bad. So much so that Steve can’t help but feel all puffed-chest proud because everyone starts somewhere, and having a room to grow is not something to be ashamed of.

He can take a rifle apart and put it back together in his sleep, he survived the war – or almost did, at least; he is yet to figure out how to factor Barry’s assistance into the narrative – but up until a few hours ago he was someone who Charlie once labelled as “a man who can’t fry an egg to save his life”. The roast feels like an accomplishment. (So what if the apple pie is store-bought?)

Intrigued, Diana offers to help, but he waves her off, determined to finish what he has started. It’s the least he can do.

They eat with the music playing in the background, and Steve watches her in the candlelight with fairy lights twinkling above them, a small smile on her face. And he thinks that he would travel across a thousand years to fall in love with her all over again if he had to. If he could.

When he pulls out the bracelet, recognition sparks in Diana’s eyes. Recognition and understanding when she touches soft, worn leather, old memories flaring up in her mind. He watches them chase across her expression, her features softening.

“Steve.” She looks up at him, her thumb tracing the curves of the delicate braid.

She hasn’t known his friends like Steve knew them, but so can be said about him, too. All those years that she spent with them after the war…

He is suddenly very aware of the thread connecting them – with each other and with the past. Something that runs deeper than anything he has ever felt. Something that, he suspects, will still be there long after they are both gone.

“I know it’s not much…” Steve starts and trails off.

Truth be told, he knows nothing about current trends and fashions, or what one could give to a woman who seems to already have everything, and that’s the problem – there is so much that he wants to give her, but he is only a man. The only who loves her desperately and unapologetically, hoping and praying that it’s enough.

Diana is shaking her head. “It’s beautiful,” she assured him earnestly. “It’s–”

“From Chief, yeah,” he nods.

“I don’t have anything for you,” she says as he affixes it around her wrist.

She touches his cheek with her other hand, and when he raises his eyes, he finds her watching him, her expression odd in the way he can’t read. There are still moments like this sometimes, when she looks at him like she can see into his soul, and he wonders if she can find there something that she might not like.

He has never wanted to share more of himself with anyone than he does with her. He has never been more scared to do so, too.

“I have you,” he says simply, moving closer and reaching up to tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear as he tries to bottle up the contentment that he feels around her so he can remember it for as long as he breathes. Knowing what Diana is and what she is capable of doesn’t make it easy for him to believe in magic, not entirely, but this moment - with the fire crackling in the grate and the smell of pine and cinnamon heavy in the air and the snow falling outside - is as magical as it can be. “What else can I ask for?”

“Flatterer,” she says, breaking into a smile so bright that it unravels the tight knot in his chest and he laughs before dipping his head to press his mouth to hers. She tastes of sugar and wine as she kisses him back, her hands on either side of his face.

He could do this forever, Steve thinks. Every day for a thousand lifetimes.

—

“Why would you do it?” Diana asked Barry the morning she and Steve left Gotham, their bags piled in the corner and Bruce yelling from the Batcave that the weather was about to turn for the worse and they should get going.

Barry stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his pants and looked down at his socked toes. Mismatched, Diana noted as she watched the tips of his ears turn red.

“I saw the photo,” he told her, grimacing a little, and her heartbeat stuttered in her chest.

She never knew he could do that, run faster than time itself, and even if she did, she would never have asked him to do this. Not for her, not for anyone else, not any more than she would have used her own powers for personal gain. And here he was, standing before her and looking like he was about to get chastised for giving her the greatest gift Diana could ever imagine.

Affection pooled in her chest, her throat tight with emotion.

“Barry…”

“And the watch,” he added quickly, looking up to meet her eyes. “That time, in the Batcave, you had that watch… which I assumed was his because it was all old and ugly—sorry,” he catches himself, “and I just–” he ran his hand over his hair, shrugging a little.

As if it explained everything.

As if it explained anything at all.

She smiled and moved toward him, wrapping her arms tightly around him, his body stiff for a moment because apparently the gesture came as a surprise. “Thank you,” she whispered into Barry’s ear as a bout of Steve’s laughter carried from the lounge. “Thank you for bringing him back to me.”

The memory feels weirdly old now.

It is impossible to believe that it has only been several weeks since he ran all the way back to 1918 to pull Steve out of the plane seconds before it went up in flames. Since Steve smiled at her from across Bruce’s living room and made a hundred years that had passed since that fateful night a century ago fall away, her time without him feeling like nothing but a faint dream.

There are still moments when she can feel his absence like a gnawing tug in the pit of her stomach, a chill running through her system when she least expects it. There are times when she wakes up in the dead of the night certain that it has all been an illusion. But the pain is not as sharp. It no longer takes Diana’s breath away or leaves her gasping for air, and all she has to do is roll over and reach for him to get all the reassurance that she needs that he is really and truly back.  

The process is slow, but she is healing.

On Christmas morning, the world outside is quiet and white. Steve is in the kitchen, making hot cocoa for them – like they used to do in his family. With marshmallows – because he knows that she likes it that way. He is humming under his breath, and Diana smiles despite herself watching him from the doorway, her hands itching to smooth down his rather epic bedhead, his hair sticking out in every which way.

Last night, they did a puzzle, a thousand pieces strewn over the coffee table, and talked late into the night. They drank wine and danced to the melodic ballads about finding love and the miracles that happen on snowy nights. And then he took her to bed and made her forget what it felt like to be without him. Until her world was nothing but him.

Diana runs her index finger absently over the bracelet still wrapped around her wrist. She feels magic thrumming through it, ancient magic that has existed since before her time and will still do when there is no trace of her left in this world. And she wonders if Chief knew. If he knew to keep Steve safe until his time came to return to her. And she says a silent thank you to whatever gods that made it happen, to the stars that needed to align just the right way.

Steve turns around, two mugs filled to the brim in his hands with marshmallows bobbing on the surface. When he spots her, he smiles, and her very soul unfurls in her chest, taking up the space carved out by loneliness and heartache.

He puts the mugs down and walks over to her, his arms sliding around her waist. His grin is cheeky when he glances up, and Diana has a split second to follow his gaze and notice a sprig of mistletoe above their heads before his mouth captures hers.

When he kisses her, she feels safe. Like being lost and finding her way back to where she belongs.

“Merry Christmas,” Steve whispers when he leans back, and she can’t help but smile, her heart so full it might burst.

“How many of those did you put around the house, Steve?” She asks because it’s not the first mistletoe she’s come upon and she doubts that it’s the last one, either.

Not that she minds it, all things considered.

“Hey, it’s a tradition,” he protests without answering her question. “It’s what people do…” when they have no wars to fight. He trails off, and she feels like she is drowning and soaring all at once.

Man’s world finally feels like home.  

[shadymultiverse]

I remember laying on my bed in highschool, sophomore year. I was exhausted. I had reached the point where every person id managed to scrape out of the hell hole that is middle education had turned against me. Rumors, as they do, flooded my small community. Things like lesbianism and sluttery being the least of it and incest and beastiality the worst. Theu were also convinced I was either possessed or the spawn of hell, which remains to be a point of pride for me.

My delicait social circle had collapsed under the strain of one thing, teenage hormones. Not my own, but that of my brother and his girlfriend, the girl coming from my group of friends. Their relationship had been incredibly toxic, but as Im realizing, everyone who comes into contact with my brother experiences the same kind of manipulation and fear. Not that she was innocent, none of them were. Ive always known a bad person when i meet one, but I also have the fatal flaw that cruelty and misguided affection will always taste like home to me.

They were the school bullies, though I would have shot you if youd said it at the time. I suppose by extention I was probably a bully, though I dont remember being one. It just explains why there was not a soul to catch me when I fell. There nnever was, not once in my entire life has someone actually caught me when I needed it, so its not like K was suprised.

'Oh but you were' My mind so helpfully supplies. I always viewed myself as kind. Sweet. Loving, even.

Yet there I was laid across my bed, too tired to get up, too tired to cry. It was after an episode from my brother.

It stands to reason I should describe him, he was not a small man. No. He stood at 6'1 back then, a weight lifter through highschool, he was a physically imposing person. Being the malnurished, overweight, gaslighted and generally abused little girl that I was, I was never any match for him. I had one fought against him, and my sister- who was always thin as a fuse and leading to something dangerous- but it was always them that were rewarded and I who was punished. My mother, who I struggle to speak ill of even now, was an enabler. She refused to see the cruelty that my siblings put me through as anything other than normal, but any kind of defense that I levied for myself was something of an act against the pure, Goddly love that was my siblings.

Now Ive realized that it was just too much for her to bare, too much for her to understand. She is a very fragile woman for how strong she is. She knew that as long as I was taking their abuse, she wouldnt have to think about it. She didnt want me to get better.

That said at that point my sister was long gone. It was just me and my brother.

He was in the bedroom next to mine. A trailer, so any sound or move I made was hyperly monitored. I was too tired to do much more than breathe and even that was a fete. He must not have been satisfied by that because his door opened and then so did mine. He stared at me, I looked in his dirrection, at his eyes. He was still angry. This was the fifth or sixth day in a row that hed chased me ariund the house, screaming at me and cornering me. He hit me all the time, always in the same spot over and over so that it wouldnt look like Id been beaten, but I was being beaten.

I remember thinking how much I was struggling. In everything. My school work, my home life, my social life, everything.

He told me to make him something to eat. I told him no.

I almost always did. I hated the way that he spoke to me, hated that I was nothing more than a slave.

I didnt have the energy tk try to fight or get up or get out of the way but he jumped on top of me and wrapped his fingers around my throat.

I remember thinking 'I just wanna go. Let me go, please just let me go' I didnt realize it at the time but I was praying that he would kill me. I was so tired....

He would put his knees on top of your hands and sit in your chest, then squeeze your throat just hard enough to not actually bruise. Cut off the circulation but ot actually kill me. Its this strange in realm between pain and peace.

This time, however, he was squeezing so hard I thought my head might pop. His eyes told me he wanted me to die. Truly intended to finally end the charade that was my life. I wasnt scared. Just tired. Ready.

I was almost gone when something changed. I was there, floating up put of my body and his face felt slack, his eyes lost their psychotic glint and he let go. He got off of me and left the house. I can still feel the gasp that tore through my lungs. If yoive ever blown up a baloon and held it against your hand to feel the way it sticks to your skin then you know whay it feels like to breathe into empty lungs.

Its most painful part of being choked

Strangely enough, I started thinking about what I should do with my life. If he wouldnt do me the kindness of finishing the job, then I needed to plan how I was going to escape.

I was tired though, and the one thing i jad always wanted seemed absolutely impossible to attain. Brain Surgeon.

I could barely pull myself through a day in highschool, the idea of two decades of college was impossible to imagine. I decided I needed to do soemthing else. Something...easy. I had earned easy, hadnt I?

It was Tom Hiddleston that made me decided I should go into theater. Ironic, since it was earlier that same year that I had been in theater, had auditioned for a monolouge and a duet for our state competition, gotten it, only to have it ripped away because I wasnt good enough. Ive always had trouble commiting to things like afterschool practice. Though, maybe ita because out practices were just delaying the inevitable abuse Id be put through at home. I only ever wnated to sleep, to stay after shcool for three hours and practice was like eating broken glass before going home to drink rubbing alcohol.

But Theater was the way to go. I liked acting, I preferred make up and set design. That way, maybe Id get to meet Tom Hiddleston. Silly, looking back. What a way to decidee the fate of my life.

He seemed caring, you see. Like he wouldnt let anyone hurt me. Not even in a husbandry kind of way, just in the human way.

He would see whay was happening and say 'This isnt ok'. He didnt have to rescue me or anything. He would just understand.

By extention, the world would see me, delight in me, applaud me.

So I started focussing on this fantasy of becoming famous.

At every turn the rug was yanked out from under me. Every time i got a line or a song or something that I craved, it was taken away before it could ever be preformed.

Just like my home life, I kept being told that I did not matter. I didnt deserve to feel anything but disapointment and anguish.

Maybe thats why Ive run away from every job that Ive ever had.

[artemisnightingale216]

Love and What We Do in its Name: Ch 6- The Belly of the Beast

Authors Note: This chapter gets a little violent. You have been warned.

Prologue

Chapter 1- Unemployed

Chapter 2- A New Beginning

Chapter 3- Hopeful

Ch 4- Predator

Ch 5- Come Out and Play

Alastor was quiet as he stepped into the only occupied room on the fifth floor. The door didn’t even creak as he softly closed it behind him and his footfalls couldn’t be heard as he walked across the carpeted floor. His shadow fell over the sleeping form of the blue skinned demoness as he came to the bedside, her body nearly completely buried under the covers as it lay turned on its side in a slight fetal position, only from her shoulders up visible to him. Her expression was soft, not at all like the gloomy, black one she usually wore. She was muttering something in her sleep, but it was only incoherent babbling, even to his highly tuned ears.

He cocked his head as he watched her. It baffled him how something so small and insignificant could rile him up so much. She was a puzzle, one he was keen on solving before he brought her to her end. He found it somewhat of a pity. She was rather entertaining and worth a good laugh, but she knew too much. If she decided to call his bluff and tell Charlie or Vaggie about his goings on at the hotel, it would ruin everything he’d set out to achieve.

Even Vaggie herself was becoming a hindrance. She was always questioning his actions and whispering things to Charlie when she thought he couldn’t hear, but there wasn’t much going on at the hotel he didn’t know about. Perhaps he would dispose of her as well. Ottilie would be easy with all the previous maids having ‘disappeared’ before, but Vaggie would be a tricky one. He’d have to be careful with her or the others would start asking too many questions. Things might not end so well for him if he didn’t plan everything down to the last detail.

He stopped right beside Ottilie, towering over her sleeping form in a domineering way. He raised a hand and reached out towards her head, but paused when she moaned and adjusted herself so her face was buried further into the pillow. He continued, but changed course at the last second so his claws were beside her horns. Bringing his middle finger and thumb together, he snapped them once a bit loudly. When she didn’t stir, he knew she wouldn’t wake while he was in there.

His smile broadened. It would be oh so easy to attack her as she was now. She wouldn’t even see it coming. He had no doubt she would try to scream, but he’d have removed her vocal cords before she could even try; he imagined her screams would be quite lovely, but he couldn’t risk anyone hearing. He’d have to settle with slowly watching the light leave her eyes as he devoured her piece by piece, her eyes never leaving his the entire time. Her fear would be delicious, like a spice that only served to add more flavor to her already delectable flesh.

Her scent alone was driving him mad. Against his better judgement, he leaned over and breathed in deeply through his nose, something he couldn’t do when she was awake and they were in such close proximity. He could feel his mouth watering as he took in that aroma again. He was so tempted to have a taste of her that he found himself leaning down further, his lips peeled back to reveal his razor sharp teeth. He stopped himself, however, his jaw snapping shut as he regained control of himself. If he wasn’t careful, this girl would no doubt be his undoing.

He leaned back and stood up straight, distancing himself from her before he did anything too drastic. He would have her, but not yet. He wasn’t done playing. Despite having always been told not to play with his food, he simply couldn’t resist. It was entirely too much fun.

Now he simply had to figure out what to do first. There were so many ways to mess with her head that it was leaving him giddy with excitement. He considered leaving a snake or spider somewhere for her to find, which usually got the women riled up, but she didn't seem like the type to be affected by such things; he highly doubted she'd be immune to the sight of a genuine skull or two, though. Perhaps he'd hide a few sharp objects and see how long it took her to stick herself with them and how hard; he wondered how much she'd bleed, especially after having watched one of the other maids nearly slice her hand clean off when he stuck a blade to a doorknob. He could also cut a hole in the cord of her vacuum and one way or another she'd eventually get a bit of an electric shock. So much to do, so little time.

Perhaps it was because he hadn't messed with anyone on such a personal level in a good while, not since the last maid had been in service, but he was definitely looking forward to this hunt. He'd never encountered a woman so emotionless before. It would be such a thrill to be the one to make her squirm like a worm on a hook.

He stepped away from the bed and began to walk around the room, his mind working like a well oiled machine as he pieced everything together in his head.

*****

Ottilie had been grateful for her restful nights of sleep the last few days. She so rarely slept for more than six hours, if she even made it that long, so getting up to eight felt like a godsend. Somehow, she'd managed to sleep for nearly nine hours straight.

It was for that specific reason that she nearly throttled Angel when he woke her up. It had been dreamless and restful, which might have been because she'd worked so hard the day before; she hated to admit it, but the shoes had been so comfortable that she couldn't seem to stop working. Vaggie and Charlie had to physically stop her and it was only then that she realized how tired she was. Even so, Angel snuck into her room, tiptoeing across the floor as she lay sound asleep.

“Pst, hey, toots,” Angel whispered in a hushed tone when he reached the bed. She didn't even stir, still laying on her side as she had been hours before, buried beneath the covers like they were a cocoon. “Hey, toots! Wake up!” He spoke a little louder and tried poking her face for good measure, but she only grumbled under her breath and burrowed further into the comforter, her cheeks now covered, too. He growled now, done trying to wake her up gently. “Wake up, you sleeping hoe!”

That appeared to have done the trick as she jumped quicker than he'd ever seen her move, making him jump as well, her eyes wide as they darted around frantically. Blinking a few times to clear her mind, she realized what had happened. Looking around again but seeing no one, she called, “Angel Dust?”

“Up here,” Angel called back.

She looked toward the sound of his voice only to see him stuck to the ceiling, his hands and the balls of his feet pressed up against it. She'd seen him do things like this before, but never quite so high. “What on earth are you doing up there?”

“What the Hell are you doin’ snappin’ up like that? Nearly gave me a heart attack!” he retorted as he flipped around so he was facing her. “I almost died! Again!”

“What are you even doing in here?” she asked as she rubbed the sleep from her visible eye and looked at the clock. “I still have a few more hours before I have to get ready for work.”

“Really?” he smiled before detaching himself from the ceiling, landing on the floor with a rather loud ‘thud’. He rushed over to where she sat on the bed, making her flinch, and clasped his hands beneath his chin. “Then will you give me a bath?”

She blinked once in confusion. “You woke me up this early to give you a bath?” Her face was just as blank as it always was, but he could tell she wasn't happy at all.

“Uh huh,” he nodded. She just continued to stare at him. “Com'on, please? Oh, please? Oh, please? Oh, please?” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Pwease~?”

A long sigh escaped her, her shoulders sagging with the action. “Go to the bathroom.”

“Yay!” he practically squealed in delight as he jumped up from his kneeling position and bounced his way toward the bathroom, acting like a child on Christmas morning.

Knowing he would get antsy if she took too long, she climbed out of bed and placed her slippers on her feet before shrugging on her robe. As she was tying the sash around her waist and made to follow after him, she happened to glance over at her sitting area and frowned. Something was definitely wrong.

Her furniture had been switched around. Where it had once sat previously, it was now on the opposite side of the room. Not just in her sitting area, but everything that wasn't stationary had been as well. She thought she was just imagining it at first, but she knew for a fact that everything had been just the opposite when she went to bed the night before. She wondered if Angel had done it just to mess with her, but moving around heavy furniture would be too much work for him. Neither Vaggie nor Charlie seemed like the types to play childish pranks and Husk definitely wouldn’t be behind this. From what Angel had told her, it very well could have been Alastor, but she very much doubted he’d come into her room just to move things around; she’d probably in a world of pain if he had in fact come into her room at all. That just left her with the rest of the inhabitants, all of whom she’d yet to meet, meaning it could have been any of them.

“Hey, toots! Get the lead out of your feet!” Angel called impatiently, his tone both mocking and serious at the same time.

Realizing she’d been thinking on this for too long as she stared at her misplaced furniture, she turned toward the bathroom again and called, “Coming!” as she walked as quickly as she could to the door. Hesitating a moment, she buried her hands deep into the pockets of her robe to make sure all of the skin of her arms was covered and stepped inside. Angel had already stripped out of his clothes and was sitting on the sink countertop, his body shamelessly on full display; he’d already set the water running as well, knowing that the way they liked their temperatures was vastly different. “Do you want me to add the bubbles?”

“You should already know the answer to that one, baby,” he replied, his legs kicking back and forth slightly as he waited for the tub to fill.

“You know the drill,” she said as she gestured to his hands with a nod of her head, to which he complied by using them to cover his eyes. Once his vision was impaired and she was sure he wasn’t peaking, she pulled her hands out and crouched down to look in the cabinet underneath the sink. Easily finding a bottle of bath soap stowed away in the back, she pulled it out and took it over to the tub, applying a generous amount to the already half filled water.

The scent mixed with the steam and Angel sniffed the air curiously. “Vanilla? Why did you use the vanilla one?”

“I thought you liked it?” she pondered as she placed the cap back on the bottle and put it back under the sink.

“I do, but you usually use the grape scented one,” he recalled with a slight pout, like the slight break in the routine had left him sullen.

“The grape one is back in your dressing room, so I can’t use that one, but trust me,” she smirked ever so slightly even though he couldn’t see. “You’ll like this one better.”

“Well, if you say so,” he shrugged.

Once the claw footed tub was two-thirds of the way full and the bubbles had sufficiently covered the surface of the water, she shut off the faucet and placed her hands back inside her pockets. “Alright, you can get in now.”

He smiled happily as he uncovered his eyes and stood up, even more excited now than he had been. After stepping into the lukewarm water, he placed his hands on either side of the shining white porcelain and lowered himself into it. A deep sigh escaped him as he leaned back and let his feet dangle out of the water, his legs a bit too long to fit all the way inside as the angle he was at. “You know, this is one of the things I missed about us working together. No one gives baths like you do.”

“Surely the new girl gives you baths,” she commented as she rolled up her sleeves out of his line of sight and pulled a stool up behind his head.

“Yeah, right. Like I’d ever let that good-for-nothing, talent-less hack anywhere near me like this. She’d probably bleach my hair white and then call it art,” he scoffed as she took a seat behind him. He dipped his head back into the water just enough so that his hair was wet but his face was still above the surface and sat back up again.

“The studio must like her if they’ve kept her on this long, though.” She picked up a bottle of shampoo and squeezed some out into the palm of her hand before putting it back down. The floral aroma surrounded them both as she started scrubbing it into his light pink hair, her fingers massaging his scalp at the same time.

“Of course the studio likes her! She’s given handouts to the producers!” he said in exasperation as his hands went flying up, sending water and bubbles all about. He put his hands back down and started playing with the bubbles, making odd shapes and towers out of them.

“Need I remind you that you do that sometimes, too,” she chuckled lightly, messing around with his hair a bit in the same matter he was the bubbles.

“Yeah, but at least I don’t use it as way to further my career! She’s just doin’ it cause she knows she can’t do nothin’ right!” he said accusingly. “I’m tellin’ ya, that’s the only reason they let you go. Why, I have half a mind to-.”

“Careful now. That’s reaching a bit too far, don’t you think?” she laughed.

“You little shit!” he half heartedly growled at her as he scooped up a handful of bubbles and shoved them in her face, making her cry out in laughter.

A sense of nostalgia overcame them as they continued to laugh and talk. It had been commonplace for her to give him a bath every now and again when they were working together. She wouldn’t do it every day, but that was mostly because he would usually have a date or two for after the shooting and he didn’t want to have to reapply his makeup or hair. Doing this once again made them feel as if they hadn’t been separated at all. While it was true that being apart had made them both miss each other terribly, being together again only served to remind them how strong of a bond they really had. He never seemed to mind how cold her touch was, either, despite the fact that she was touching him without so much as a glove between them. Instead of recoiling like most others did, he welcomed her touch and even seemed to find some comfort in it, looking more relaxed than she’d ever seen him whenever she bathed him.

Once he was clean and satisfied, she stood behind him and helped him out of the tub, his head facing the ceiling so he couldn’t see her hands. After he wrapped a towel around himself, he informed her he’d meet her down at breakfast and left the room with the pajamas he’d been wearing. Anyone else might have questioned the fact he was running around the hotel practically naked, but she knew better; he’d never been afraid to show off what he had.

Once she was alone again and the bathroom had been straightened up, she only had about an hour before she had to get to work, so she began to get ready for the day. She hadn’t had any time to make herself a new work dress yet, so she was still wearing a pair of the work pants and smock Charlie had given her, glad now that she’d insisted she take a few extra pairs. She also slipped on her work boots, which she still wasn’t quite used to wearing.

The previous day had left her somewhat angry, having returned to her room for her other pair of shoes only to find that they were gone as well, leaving her with only the ones she had in hand. She’d searched high and low for her other shoes, wondering if she’d somehow misplaced them or if they’d simply been hidden, but they were nowhere to be found. The new shoes were certainly easier to work in and for that she was grateful, but at the same time she was angry that the choice had been taken away from her about whether or not to wear them added to the fact that both pairs of her shoes were now gone, seemingly for good. Who did this person think they were to force her to wear them, she thought angrily. Without knowing who’d given them to her, however, she had no one to direct that anger towards, so she simply couldn’t hold on to it. It disappeared, just as her other shoes had.

After tying her hair back so it hung loosely down her back in a low ponytail, she left her room and headed towards the dining room, assuming that if she didn’t head that way that Charlie would come looking for her. She’d been able to talk her way out of eating dinner with them, but Charlie had practically demanded she join them for breakfast, especially after having also refused it the day before. She didn’t eat very often, not feeling the need or want to, but today she was feeling somewhat hungry. Perhaps all of the moving around was starting to give her a bit of an appetite.

Finally getting used to the layout of the hotel after a few days, she found the dining room easily and found that she was one of the first people there aside from two others. The first was the small one eyed demoness who looked like a child and the other was a woman of ample size who was dressed like she’d just stepped out of a casino. The two turned to look at her as she stepped in, one regarding her with cheerful delight and the other in indifference. “Um… hello.”

“Hi, there!” the smaller one said cheerfully as she jumped out of her chair, her poodle her red and yellow polka dotted skirt swaying as she rushed over to see her up close. “You must be the new maid! Gee! You're kind of tall! Then again, a lot of people are tall to me! I'm just so short, aren't I?” She took a quick pause to giggle, not giving Ottilie any time to respond as she prattled on. “You're really pretty, too! I bet you get a lot of attention from men! All the men most flock to you like a rooster to a chicken! My mom used to be the same way! Pretty and good with the men! You must adore all that attention, don't you? Gosh, I wish I were as pretty as you!”

Ottilie blinked down at her, unsure if she was finished or not. After a few seconds, it appeared she was done for now. “Um… thank you, but you're much prettier than I am.” She truly believed that the shorter girl was better looking than she was, though that was the case with most people she met.

“Wow! That's so sweet of you! You're really nice! I bet you've got lots of friends! Mimzy over there is my bestest friend!” she turned and pointed towards the other woman sitting at the table, who gave an unenthusiastic wave, her fingers wiggling slightly. “Oh! And I'm Nifty, by the way! What's your name? I bet you've got a name just as pretty as you are! I hope you do! It would stink if someone so pretty had an ugly name! Oh, please, won't you tell me? I've just got to know! What's your name?”

“Will you just tell her? She won't stop until you do,” Mimzy sighed.

“Ottilie,” she replied after another few seconds.

“Oh, wow! I love that name so much! It’s so unique and wonderful! It fits you so well!” Nifty gushed before bounding over to Mimzy. “Didn’t I say that her name would be pretty? And I was so right! Have you ever heard of a name like that? And her voice! I bet you she came from England! People from England were all the rage when I was alive! So formal and polite and-!” She was cut off when Mimzy picked up a napkin and shoved it in her mouth, silencing her for the moment.

“You know the rules, sweetcheeks. Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee,” Mimzy reminded her as she leaned into her hand and continued to not-so-patiently wait for breakfast.

Nifty and Mimzy certainly wasn’t what Ottilie had been expecting at all. From the way people talked about them, they were as inseparable as the moon and stars, but from where she stood, they couldn’t be any more different than night and day. The way they talked, acted, and even the way they dressed were nothing alike each other.

Mimzy, who appeared to be from the time Ottilie recalled being called the Roaring Twenties, was a rather stout and stocky woman not much taller than Nifty was. She had platinum blonde hair styled in a side part with the ends twirling around in a single curl, thin lips painted the same color of red as her irises and cheeks, dark red lashes that contrasted with her entirely black scleras, a small nose that was just a little too pointy, and ashen white skin that stood out against the dark hues of her attire. She wore a dark purple strapless flapper dress that left little to the imagination and put the tops plus the sides of her ample bosom on display for the world to see; there were small strips of white around her hips, almost making it look like she was wearing a belt or a top and skirt, and the tassels at the bottom were colored white with streaks of the same dark purple. Around the top of her head and over her hair was a was a dark purple headband with a matching feather and faux gemstone that matched the color of her eyes. A beaded necklace with the same type of stone hung around her neck and her hands were covered by dark purple gloves that reached past her elbows. Her feet, which were, like her hands, very small compared to the rest of her body and protected by tiny heeled shoes that went with the rest of her clothing.

Nifty, on the other hand, was as skinny as a twig, the only curves on her being her rather tiny breasts. The skin of her head and neck was a milky white and a stark contrast to the bright colors of her clothing while her needle like arms and legs were a deep purple, her cheeks were dotted by small points of fuschia, the frizzy hair atop her head was cut short above her shoulders and colored the same shade as her cheeks with a large streak of light orange beneath her bangs, and the single eye in the middle of her head was a match to her hair with a ring of orange around her fuschia scleras. Aside from her polka dotted poodle skirt, she wore a short sleeved white blouse spotted with fuschia that had poofy sleeves and a fuschia and orange colored scarf tied loosely around her neck. If the small woman was wearing shoes, it was hard to tell. The wide smile that seemed to be constantly spread across her face sported two rows of razor sharp teeth, something that most demons in Hell seemed to have, which seemed a little odd given the fact she didn’t seem to have a malicious nature, but looks could be deceiving.

Aside from their physical differences, Mimzy also seemed to lack Nifty’s bubbly personality and talkative nature. Though not reserved, she didn’t seem to want to talk unless something caught her interest or it benefited her in some way. Ottilie couldn’t help but wonder why the two were even friends to begin with, being so different, but she supposed she didn’t have much room to talk; she and Angel were completely different as well, but they were practically inseparable, too. Perhaps their relationship was strange to her because she was finally seeing it from the other side and not just her own perspective.

After Nifty managed to get the napkin dislodged from her mouth, she bounced back over to Ottilie. “So are you going to join us for breakfast today? You’ve missed the last couple of meals! You really should join us more often! We have so much fun! We laugh, we talk, we eat!” She giggled a bit at herself. “Listen to me! Of course we eat! What else would you do during a meal!” She giggled again. “But really, though, I think you would enjoy it! Most everyone does!”

“Well, I, um-,” Ottilie started before Nifty reached up and took her hand, her small limbs high above her head to reach it.

“You can sit right next to me, then! The cleaning lady who worked here before used to sit there, but she doesn’t come around anymore! Alastor said she simply had to go!” Nifty said as she tugged Ottilie over to the side of the table where her chair sat waiting.

“Alastor? Why would Alastor say that?” Ottilie pressed, feeling a bit nervous on the subject, but feeling like there was something more to that statement.

Niftys eye widened and her smile turned strained as her tiny grip on Ottilies hand turned into a rather tight squeeze, almost cutting off what little blood flow the taller woman had. Ottilie glanced over at Mimzy only to find her looking at Nifty like she’d just blown the cover on a top secret operation. Of course Ottilie already knew what had happened to the maids who had come before her, but the two of them clearly didn’t know that. However much Alastor appeared to have told them about the situation, he apparently hadn’t felt the need to inform them of her knowledge on it; quite franckly, she was surprised they’d been told at all, Niftys ramblings making it clear that it was probably something they shouldn’t have been.

Mimzy suddenly burst out laughing, the sound obviously forced, but to her credit she was doing her best. “Nifty, you silly girl! I told you that, not Alastor! Remember? I said it was because she couldn’t make the beds right!” She turned her gaze to Ottilie, but the smile she offered was just as forced as her laugh had been. “Don’t mind her. She gets details wrong all the time. I keep telling her that slip ups like that will get her into trouble… don’t I, Nifty?”

Nifty looked down at the floor, the expression almost looking shameful if not for the fact that she was shaking slightly, the vibrations traveling up into Ottilies arm. “Yeah…” she was quiet for a moment before she returned to her bubbly self and her head shot up to look at Ottilie as she continued to lead her towards the chair. “Gee, your hand sure is cold! Were you holding something before you came in here? I can feel it even through your glove! Whatever you had must have been mighty cold!”

“No… this is just my normal body temperature,” Ottilie said somewhat bashfully, letting the subject of Alastor drop, if not for their sake but her own.

“Wow! That’s so neat! I’ll bet you stay really cool in all this heat! I wish I could be that cold, then I wouldn’t have to worry! It must be so nice! Do you have-?” Nifty continued on, talking as if nothing had happened barely even two minutes ago. Ottilie let her go on, however, as she was practically pushed into a chair and listened to the girl prattle on for a good ten minutes or so, actually somewhat glad that she didn’t have to participate much in the conversation. It wasn’t until Mimzy complained that the food was taking too long that she jumped up from the table again and hopped onto the floor. “I’ll go check on it!” She turned to looked up at Ottilie again. “Don’t go anywhere! I’ll be right back!” She scampered off, disappearing faster than rain down a storm drain.

It was silent for a moment, reminding Ottilie of just how talkative Nifty could be, before she glanced over at Mimzy again only to find her watching her from the corner of her eye. Her gaze was set into a slight glare, as if she were both sizing her up and giving her a warning. Ottilie had only just met Mimzy, but she somehow got the feeling that the other woman wasn’t much of a threat. Something about her simply screamed ‘all bark and no bite’. If Mimzy had something to do with Alastor, however, perhaps she was someone to at least watch out for.

Averting her gaze, Ottilie looked down at the table, trying so hard not to look the other womans way that she didn’t even notice when other people started to pile in one by one. The seats at the table were all so nearly full that by the time Angel Dust sat down in the seat across from her and had to nudge her with his foot to get her attention when she wouldn’t reply to him she was shocked when she looked up. Only the seats on either side of her, the one next to Angel Dust, and two others were empty at that point and some mild chatter had begun to take place. Another quick glance at Mimzy showed that she’d lost interest for the time being and Ottilie could relax a bit.

Ottilie and Angel talked about this and that while they all waited. She did her best to not let on how nervous she was around so many people, but it was evident in the way she fidgeted that she was uncomfortable. Angel tried to take her mind off of the fact that she was around strangers, though it only helped a little. Even so, no one else paid her any mind; in their eyes, she was just another maid who would likely up and quit, just like the others had. After a few minutes, though, she seemed a bit more at ease when she focused more on the conversation and less on the people around her; it pleased Angel to see her finally coming out of her shell, if only just a little. That was, at least, until three figures walked into the room.

One could almost feel sorry for Husk, who looked like he’d barely gotten any sleep if any at all, but he also had Nifty dangling off of one arm, her feet barely touching the floor as she held onto his forearm like he was a jungle gym, while Alastor had his arms wrapped around his shoulders, his feet dragging slightly and slowing the shorter man down. “Will you get off of me?” he asked in an annoyed tone, probably not the first time he’d said it.

“Not until you do it,” Alastor smirked, leaning his head on Husks shoulder and putting more of his body weight down. Husk grumbled something in reply, but the words were inaudible.

“You know we can’t let go until you do it!” Nifty laughed as she climbed further up his arm, wrapping around it like a snake on a branch.

“You’re hurting me,” Husk staggered slightly, the added weight of two bodies nearly throwing him off balance.

“You’re only hurting yourself!” Alastor remarked, his smile widening slightly. “Come now. It’ll make your day brighter!” Husk turned his head slightly and glared at him. “Well, it can’t hurt you any more than this does!”

Husk let out a long sigh, his shoulders sagging with the action. He looked around the room, finding most of the eyes on him, and rolled his own. With a great bit of reluctance, he flashed a very small and quick smile, the frown he always wore returning to his face just as quickly.

“Yay! He did it!” Nifty cheered as she let herself drop to the floor and raced over to her seat, looking happily up at Ottilie before striking up a conversation with Mimzy.

“See now, was that so hard?” Alastor playfully chided as he released Husks shoulders and stood up straight, pinching the cat demons cheek just a little too hard and shaking it as he passed. Husks face contorted in anger at the action, but he said nothing to him as he took the open seat next to Angel, knowing he would have a fit if he didn’t.

Husk sat there a moment, looking a bit perturbed, when his nose started to twitch slightly. His head rose up from the hand that had been propping it up as he sniffed the air a little harder, turning his nose this way and that. He leaned a little closer to Angel gave him a few good sniffs before squinting his eyes at him. Angel looked at him in confusion before Husk said, “You smell nice.”

Angel was caught off guard for a moment before a wide smile spread across his face. No one had ever seen him look so elated before. He turned to look at Ottilie, knowing it was thanks to her that he’d received the compliment, but her attention was elsewhere.

Ottilie had gotten noticeably tense when the three of them walked in; Angel had seen this and what about to ask what was wrong, but that small compliment had him too distracted and the small detail for the moment as he became a little too touchy for Husks liking. She went practically rigid, however, when she noticed Alastor coming to her side of the table, his eyes on her and a smirk on his face as they both realized the seat next to her was empty. She was about to get up and excuse herself, but he beat her to it with the strides his long legs provided as he placed his hand on the back of her chair and pushed it back in, the action just subtle enough that it looked like he was using it for support as he lowered himself into his seat. She nearly jumped when his claws intentionally brushed against her back, but refrained from doing so in favor of not causing a scene.

Ottilie had a feeling this was going to be a long breakfast.

***

Vaggie and Charlie had come in with the food and beverages not long after everyone was seated. Breakfast consisted of biscuits and gravy, eggs, bacon, and an assortment of all sorts of other foods while there was also orange juice, milk, and hot tea to drink. Everyone dug in at their own pace, enjoying the meal like most of them did every morning. Mimzy couldn’t seem to handle herself and ate like a man starved for days as she tried just about everything there was to eat, Angels plate was full of sausage links and eggs, Husk was just having sausage and a bowl of milk, Vaggie had mixed the eggs, sausage, and bacon together to make a breakfast bowl of sorts, Charlie partook upon the fruit, Nifty was making a bit of a mess with her toast and jam, and the others Ottilie had yet to formally meet ate their own mix of food while she had simply chosen for herself a biscuit with a light layer of butter and a small plate of fruit. Alastor, however, did not eat a single bite; much like the day before, he had a simple cup of tea and that was all. No one else seemed to find it strange except for Ottilie, so she kept to herself about it.

Ottilie had tried to distract herself by focussing on her food or listening as Nifty continued on about this and that, but it was hard when she could feel Alastors eyes on her when she wasn’t looking. His gaze seemed to sear into her like fire, almost hot enough to burn even her, but whenever she would look out of the corner of her eye he would either have his eyes closed like he was enjoying his time there or his eyes would be somewhere else entirely, but he never turned his head towards or away from her. She had also tried more than once to excuse herself again, but he always seemed to know when she was going to and found some way to stop her. He would turn to Nifty and ask her to pass him something and, seeing how she was between them, would have to hand it to him; it was always simple things like cream or sugar for his tea that he could easily reach himself, but it was bad manners to reach across someone at the table and they both knew this, so he used it to his advantage. Even Nifty and Mimzy seemed to somehow be in on it, asking him to pass things along back and forth, somehow successfully trapping her between the lot of them. It was infuriating, to say the least, but still she said nothing.

It wasn’t until Mimzy and Nifty along with everyone else were distracted by Angel trying to impress Husk by placing the thicker sausages in his mouth and swallowing them whole that she was able to slip away. Only Alastor seemed to have noticed, unamused by the display, at least until Angel started to choke as he tried to swallow five at once and got a bit of glee out of it as Charlie jumped up to help him. Having seen Angel get out of worse situations, she knew he would be fine and went about her business, glad to be out of the deer demons presence, at least for the time being.

Once again distracted by the comfort of work, she delved right into it and started with her normal routine. First, she would go and collect all of the sheets, something that was much easier now with the new pair of boots she begrudgingly wore, no longer worried about walking up and down the long flights of stairs. Next, she would run them through the washer and fetch new sets to put on the beds, having already found a sack she could use to carry them so she wouldn’t have to climb up and down each floor again and again. After the beds were remade, she would then set about cleaning the rooms. It was at this point that she began to notice cleaning supplies were missing; in their places were photos of the missing items and another photo beneath of where they had been moved to, but every time she went there she would find another photo leading to another location until she eventually found what she was looking for. It slowed her down considerably and she was none too happy about it, especially when it continued on for days after. The first time it had been all of the vacuum cleaners, the second the brooms, the third the cleaning sprays, and so on until everything all of the supply closets had been hidden at some point.

When that was finally over, then came the strange happenings that would go on while she was cleaning. Things would randomly fall over when no one was anywhere near them, sometimes breaking in the process, and she was forced to go and tell Charlie or Vaggie what happened; she was beginning to suspect that Vaggie was believing her less and less that it wasn’t her fault each time it happened, no doubt thinking she was clumsy and didn’t want to admit it. Electronic devices would switch on as well, many a times on full volume and nearly making her jump out of her own skin. She would hear laughter behind her or voices she didn’t recognize whispering things to her, but each time she would turn there would be no one there. Phones would ring in rooms when she was nearby and she would rush to answer them in case it was something important, but they would always stop before she could reach them. More than once she had found signs taped to her back that said, ‘I’m hungry and underpaid’, or something of that nature; Vaggie had seen it once and asked if she was trying to get more money out of them while Charlie saw it as a cry for help.

All of this only added to the fact that Alastor was still trapping her beside him each morning at breakfast. She would always find a way to avoid dinner, feeling grateful that everyone was left to their own devices for lunch, but Charlie always managed to talk her into breakfast. No matter where she sat or who was beside her, he always found a way to take their spot and make her exceedingly uncomfortable. Most of the time it was simply staring when she wasn’t looking, but other times he would resort to more drastic measures when she tried to make it clear she was ignoring him. Sometimes he would switch out her cup with another, watching as she went to take a drink and stopping herself before she could taste whatever it was after noticing it wasn’t hers; more often than not it would be bleach or some other type of cleaner, but once it had been a cup full of blood. Other times, he would try to rile her up by poking her in the side or nudging her with his foot when she wasn’t paying attention, making her jump in surprise and get a few looks from around the table; fingers would be one thing, but the tips of his claws were rather sharp and she was worried he might actually cut into her one day.

The thing that really took the cake, however, was the day she, Charlie, and Vaggie finally got around to cleaning out the laundry chute. She’d been there for nearly a month now and they still couldn’t figure out exactly what had gotten stuck in there. Still, though, she was happy they were attempting to unclog it because that meant she’d be able to use them instead of walking up and down the stairs.

“So what do you think is up there?” Charlie asked as Vaggie turned on a flashlight and stuck her head into the opening in the basement.

“I’m still pretty sure it’s a wad of sheets,” Vaggie explained, squinting her eyes a bit up into the darkness and letting out a groan of annoyance. “It’s too high up. I can’t see what it is.”

“What does it look like?” Charlie questioned, standing just behind her and trying to see in as well, but the opening was only big enough for one person.

Vaggie looked harder for a moment. “Like a wad of sheets.” She climbed out of the opening and handed the flashlight to Charlie. “I’ll go up and see if I can dislodge it.” Looking over at Ottilie, she asked, “You have Angel Dust up there, right?”

“Yes. I sent him up to the sixth floor since it seems to be between there and five in the other chute,” Ottilie confirmed.

As if on cue, Angels voice came blaring from the walkie-talkie sitting on the table. “These chutes stink like ass! What did them bitches do? Send ‘em down wet?”

“Yeah, same with this one,” Vaggie nodded to Ottilie, ignoring Angels comment as she grabbed two broomsticks and headed for the door. “I’ll go up and we’ll see about getting those sheets out. You two stay down here and wait to see what comes out.”

“Can do!” Charlie playfully saluted while Ottilie just nodded in agreement. Once they were alone, she turned back to Ottilie and smiled. “I’ll bet you’ll be happy once this is done. It’ll make your job so much easier.”

“Yes, it will,” Ottilie concurred. “Not that I find it hard to do to begin with, but it has been much easier since I got these new shoes.” She was doing her best to make the conversation seem casual, but in reality she was trying to see if she could get Charlie to admit the shoes had been from her. She’d had her suspicions since she’d left them in Charlies office only to have them returned to her, but at least if she confirmed it she might be able to get the other woman to tell her where her other shoes were and return her current pair again, still not wanting to accept such an extravagant gift.

Charlie glanced down at Ottilies feet then back up again. “Oh yeah! I noticed you got new shoes a while back! They’re really cute! Where did you get them?”

Not ready to give up just yet, Ottilie pushed a little further. “They were a gift. I tried to return them but… they were given back.”

“I see. Well, maybe it’s a good thing they did, if they make working easier,” Charlie pointed out. “Who gave them to you?”

Ottilie, not sure what else to say, went with, “I thought you did.”

Charlie looked taken back. “Me? Well, I’m flattered you would think I did something so nice, but I can’t take the credit for it. I wasn’t even aware you needed new shoes. I do hope you figure out who gave them to you, though. Whoever did deserves a big thank you!”

Having confirmed her original suspicion that Charlie wouldn’t have hidden the fact that they were from her, Ottilie was back to square one with them. Perhaps it was for the best she didn’t know, however. Going back to her original pairs would mean having her feet hurt all day and it was improper for her to be running around in only socks. She would simply have to make due with what she’d been given and leave it at that.

“Geez, it really stinks in here! And this thing is lodged in there good! Them girls should have been prostitutes, cause they sure know how to fill a hole!” Angels voice came over the walkie again, sounding a bit ticked off at having to waste his time on such a thing.

“Just get over it and get it out of there! It stinks over here too and I don’t want it getting into the rest of the hotel!” Vaggies voice followed, clearly not too happy about it, either.

“It’s really squishy, too! It feels like it’s falling apart whenever I poke it!” Angel went on. Charlie and Ottilie heard banging from the chute the latter of the two was standing in front of, like he was beating at whatever was in there.

Ottilie walked over to the table and picked up the walkie, confused on how to use it until Charlie told her to press the button on the side. “What do you mean it’s squishy? Sheets shouldn’t be squishy.”

“Hold on, I think I almost got it!” Angel stated, his voice sounding strained as he hit at the thing with more force.

“Me too,” Vaggies voice crackled from the walkie. Bangs followed from Charlies chute now as they waited below.

Almost simultaneously, they heard the sound of something sliding against the metal of the chutes, a few pieces of cloth falling from above in Charlies chute. She looked at them in confusion, having expected entire sheets to fall instead of just pieces. She also noticed the material was black rather than white and a bit too thick to be a bedsheet. Stepping closer, she picked it up and felt a dry, crusty material on it that left red flakes on her fingers. “Is this blood?”

Charlie and Ottilie had to scramble back from the openings as something large and heavy began to fall down them at high speed, crashing against the metal in an almost deafening sound. Something came falling out of Charlies chute and tumbled to the floor in front of her while Ottilies came just seconds later, but neither of them were bundles of tangled up sheets.

It was the smell of the bodies that hit them first. Ottilie had always heard that decaying flesh smelled awful, but she never knew it could be this bad. She and Charlie had to plug their noses against the stench as their faces wrinkled in disgust and it took them a few seconds to realize what they were looking at. Once it dawned on them, however, Ottilie could only stare in shock while Charlie was in hysterics.

“Persila, Annabelle, no!” Charlie cried out, sinking to the floor as her fingers tangled into her hair.

Ottilie was confused has to how Charlie knew who they were. Though clearly female, neither body had a head with which to identify them from. She then noticed, however, the black and red colored uniformed dress they were both wearing and the nametags pinned to them, one reading ‘Annabelle’ and the other ‘Persila’. She’d always wondered what exactly had happened to the maids that came before her, but had thought it better not to ask Alastor such a question if she wanted to keep both her sanity and her head on its shoulders. Annabelle and Persila seemed not to have faired so lucky.

Ottilie was pulled from her thoughts as Charlie began to dry heave, the sound mixing with her cries. She brought the walkie back up and spoke into it. “Vaggie? Where are you?”

“Headed downstairs to meet back up with you guys. Why?” Vaggie replied.

“I think you might want to hurry,” Ottilie commented, unsure what to do for Charlie.

“Why?” Vaggie asked again. “And what was in the chutes?”

“Is one of you two crying? Sounds like someone died in there,” Angel cut in jokingly, letting out a noise of surprise when the wails only got louder. “Geez, what did I say?”

“We’re on our way!” Vaggie said worriedly.

***

Needless to say, Vaggie was none too pleased when she came into the laundry room to find a sobbing Charlie and two dead headless bodies that belonged to two former employees. After getting Charlie away from the bodies and up to the penthouse, she went through the entire hotel and sent everyone to their rooms until she said otherwise or they got everything straightened out, whichever came first. She knew it couldn’t have been Ottilie who finished them off, but Ottilie had decided it would be best to head back there to escape the chaos. No one bothered to ask how the two had died; headlessness aside, there was only one true way to kill a demon.

Ottilie was in no real hurry to go back to her room, however. For once, the halls were quiet and she could think to herself for a bit. Aside from that, there wasn’t much for her to do in her room. She contemplated reading or sewing to pass the time, but she knew she was much too distracted for that.

Her thoughts kept going to Annabelle and Persila. She’d never met the two, but she did feel bad for them. She needn’t bother wondering who killed them, having already known the answer for a long time, but could only hope they didn’t suffer too much. It was hard to tell just from the bodies whether they had or not. There were many deep gashes and claw marks, but the deepest of them had been in their hearts, and that had likely been the blow that killed them, meaning their heads were likely cut off after they were completely dead. It was possible they had been cut off before the stab to the heart seeing how the heads would just grow back given enough time, but she hoped that wasn’t the case because she’d heard regrowing limbs was quite painful.

She fought with herself to keep them from her mind. It wouldn’t do her any good to dwell on them now and the bodies would be gone by tomorrow, Vaggie having already said she would have them taken to the disposal sight that was specifically for circumstances such as these, but she doubted she would be able to use the chutes now without thinking about those two women stuffed inside like discarded waste. She briefly wondered why Alastor had put them there in the first place rather than dispose of them himself or hide them somewhere better and even tried to figure out what he must have done with the heads, but thought it better not to find out.

A headache began to throb beneath her skull and she rubbed at her temples as she closed her eyes, able to navigate the halls now even without looking. She was typically a calm person, but even she could get stressed out. All of the goings on had really begun to affect her. Between Alastors antics and the strange goings on, it was starting to get to her. She wasn’t going to give up, however, and was more than willing to stick it out. Alastor and everything else aside, she enjoyed the work and most of the people there were nice to her. There was no way she was going to give it up.

As she was rubbing at her temple, she could swear she heard a light crackling noise. Assuming it was a side effect of her headache, she ignored it and kept walking. The noise persited, however, and was only getting louder. The crackling was followed by the sound of constant static and that made her stop dead in her tracks as a sense of deja vu washed over her. She’d heard both sounds accompanying her before and knew she’d never forget where it came from. Ever so slowly, she turned and looked down the hallway.

All the color drained from her face and her eyes went wide as she saw the thing standing in the middle of the hallway.

It was at least nine to ten feet tall and the tips of its ears brushed against the ceiling, the long antlers that sprouted from its head branching out like the limbs on a tree. Its claws were longer and much sharper, no doubt able to rip apart anything they came into contact with, and the skin at the corners of its smiling mouth were frayed and torn apart to reveal a mouthful of teeth just as deadly as its claws, the jaw open slightly with a tongue slightering about like a serpent between it. The face was just an empty black hole with stark white eye sockets and that mutilated mouth, its gaze boring into her and body bent forward like a deranged animal ready to strike. Tendrils of dark power manifested around its body, infesting the floor and walls around them as they sought to snuff out the light, the shear force of it causing the frayed tail of its suit jacket to whip about. The thing wore the same clothes as Alastor, but it was clear that, though they both shared the same body, they were not of the same mind.

Her blood felt like it had completely turned to ice while she and the creature stared at each other. The sound of static and crackling continued to assault her ears, turning almost deafening now and nearly throwing her off balance, but her stance held fast and she remained still, not wanted to make any sudden movements. Over the sound of the static she could hear its ragged breathing and the occasional low growl, like it wanted her to move but getting angry when she didn’t budge. Her expression was finally showing fear, but it wanted more than that. It wanted to hunt.

Ever so slowly, it cocked its head at her and its jaw extended, unmoving as it began to speak. “Ottilie.” A shiver ran down her spine and she thought she was about to piss herself as the voice of monster spoke her name. It held its long arms out to the side, like it was welcoming her in an embrace, and there was almost a sing-song quality to the way it called out to her. “Won’t you come here? I just want to talk.” She slowly shook her head, still afraid to move too quickly. It moved so it was standing on all fours and straightened out its spine, its tongue slithering faster now. “That hurts my feelings, Ottilie. You never want to talk to me. You just scurry away and leave me all alone. Don’t you like me?” It started to take slow, deliberate steps towards her, each one matched by her taking one away from it. “I like you, you know. I like it when you’re near... I like the way you smell… and I think I’ll especially like the way you taste!”

She barely had any time to react when the thing lunged at her, using all for limbs to propel it across the space between them. She turned and ran just as it landed in the spot she’d been standing in, narrowly missing the claws that swiped at her, the air that whooshed past her causing her to stagger a bit as she thought they were going to hit her. Her heart pounded in her chest, beating painfully against her rib cage as she sprinted faster than she ever had in her life. Adrenaline pushed her forward as the thing followed after her, easily keeping pace behind her but not ready to catch her just yet; the beast was finally getting what it wanted and it wanted to chase.

She had no idea where she was going. There was no where she could go that would keep her safe from this thing. It seemed hopeless, but even so she kept running. Something inside of her simply wouldn’t let this thing have the satisfaction of taking her down. Until she was completely drained of energy and couldn’t run another step, she would survive.

It wasn’t until she saw the door to the stairwell that she had an idea. Her chance was slim, but it was something to go with. Sucking in a large breath, which was a bit difficult as her lungs burned, she used it to give herself a burst of momentum and shot towards the door. It didn’t think twice about speeding up as well and she could hear its heavy steps behind her, but she had been counting on that as it didn’t have time to stop. She burst through the door and onto the landing of the stairway while it crashed into the door frame, its shoulders just slightly too wide to fit through.

It was unharmed but nonetheless roared in anger, the sound echoing through the stairway. It reached an arm through the doorway, trying to grab her as it clawed in her direction. She scrambled back until she hit the railing, her spine hurting as she pressed into it. Its claws were just centimeters from reaching her, but those centimeters were enough to keep her out of its grasp. It tried to force its way through the doorway, but its anger was causing it to thrash about too wildly to squeeze through properly.

It stopped thrashing as it stared her down, its large hand slamming down on the floor in front of her, the tendrils returning now to slink their way slowly around the stairwell; now closer to them, she could swear she heard screams and cries of anguish emanating from their inky black depths. Its ears twitched as it cocked its head again, regarding her with interest. “Such a smart girl you are. I’ll tell you what. I’ll make you a deal since you were able to outsmart me like that. Come out of there now and I promise to make it quick. You’ll won’t even feel a thing.”

Not believing him for a second, she shook her head. “No.” Her voice was shaky as she tried to catch her breath, using that moment to steady herself for when she would have to run again.

“Come now. Think rationally, dear. Do you really think you can get away?” It asked, its head tilting further to the side.

“Maybe not,” she replied. “But I’m certainly not going to make it easy on you.”

It chuckled a dark and sinister laugh, the sound making her knees quake. “Easy? Darling, you’re only making this fun for me. I simply wanted to give you an easy out… I’ll even give you one more, since I’m such a good sport. Come here and I’ll be gentle with you.” It lifted its hand and turned its palm toward her, like it expected her to take it.

“Do you really expect me to believe you? People like you never keep your word,” she retorted, unsure where it had come from feeling like it was true nonetheless.

It let out a long sigh, like it really had wished she would take the bargain. “Have it your way.” It pulled the hand back and it disappeared from sight as it let the door close between them.

She didn’t hesitate to run down the stairs as soon as she heard the click of it closing. She didn’t care where she was going or how long she had to run, she just knew that she had to get as far away from the hotel as possible. She doubted anyone there would be able to help her. None of them could stand up to the might of the Radio Demon and she didn’t want to put them in harms way for her sake. It broke her heart, but she’d have to leave Angel and the friends she’d made there behind or risk seeing them hurt so Alastor could get to her nor did she want to test how far he was willing to go.

As she was descending the stairs, she saw a blur of red leap down from over the railing above her head. She turned to run back up, but this proved to be a mistake as the blur landed right in front of her. A gasp escaped her lips just before a hand grabbed her shoulder and pushed her back, sending her falling backwards. Pain shot through her as her multiple times as her spine hit the corners of the stairs and her head bashed against one as well, leaving a few trickles of blood behind as she tumbled down. Only when she slammed against the wall of the next landing did she stop, groaning as she lay face down.

She was given no time to recover as hands harshly grabbed hold of her and flipped her over so she was lying on her back. She tried to fight them off, but her assailant sat on top of her so he was straddling her and pinned her hands above her head, easily keeping her in place.

She needn’t guess that it was Alastor, but this time he was back to his regular form, smiling down at her in all of his wicked glory. His expression showed remorse, but it was only in mockery; he felt no sympathy as he stared down at her. “Poor little thing. I really wish you had taken my deal when I gave all those chances. You know, that’s more than I’ve ever given anyone else. It just goes to show how much I really did like you, but that’s all over now. I’m afraid I can’t make it quick for you in this form. The one you just saw, well… I have a bit of trouble controlling it, so you really wouldn’t have felt anything. This one, however, you’ll feel every… little… thing.”

She was shaking now, unable to stop her limbs from trembling like they did. “Why are you doing this?”

He chuckled again. “You know, I get that question a lot. I got it when I was alive and I even get it here in Hell. The blunt of it that I simply can’t let you run about freely anymore, knowing what you know. I simply can’t having you tell any of the others. Of course I have most of them under my thumb, but I’ve put too much effort into my plans to have you ruin them if word gets out I was the one who killed the other maids.”

“Mimzy and Nifty know. Are you going to kill them, too?”

“Mimzy does whatever I ask and Nifty does as she’s told. I don’t have to worry about them. You, on the other hand,” he grabbed both her wrists in one hand, still easily able to pin them down even though she pulled with all of her might, and used the now free one to run his claw down the length of her face, grabbing it roughly so she was still looking at him when she tried to turn away, “have been a thorn in my side ever since you came here. You’ll simply have to go.” The hand slipped down so it was around her throat and wasted no time as it began to squeeze tightly. “Don’t worry, though. You and I will have oodles of fun together. And as a reward, I’ll tell Angel Dust you said goodbye.”

Her vision was already starting to blur as she struggled for air, the hand around her throat not letting even the tiniest bit through. Her legs kicked back and forth, trying to land a blow, but it was all in vain as he only laughed at her meager attempts to harm him. His smile was cruel and sadistic, just as she imagined it would be if he ever got his hands on her.

As her vision began to blur and black spots dancing in front of her eye, the form looming over began to shift and change. Confusion washed over her as she was no longer staring at Alastor, but a man she did not know yet seemed all too familiar. His hand was still around her throat and he was smiling at her like he was enjoying the action all too much. His voice spoke to her, sending hate coursing through her veins as he said, ‘My lovely little doll.’

All at once, she went completely numb. The hand around her throat no longer mattered and whoever was above her was inconsequential. Her body went slack, no longer straining against him nor desperate for air. Her face, now blank of emotion, stared up with a glassy expression, like no one had ever inhabited the body in the first place.

***

Alastors brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. The all consuming, delicious scent of her fear was now completely gone and he was left with nothing but the shell of a prey. This wasn’t what he wanted at all. He couldn’t possibly taste her as she was now. She would be too bland. He leaned down closer to her as he pulled her face toward him, his hand still around her throat. “If you think pulling that little stunt is going to help you live, you’ve got another thing coming.” There was no response. “You’re going to die. You know that, right?” She didn’t even bat an eye. “I won’t even tell Angel Dust you said goodbye! He’ll think you left without giving him a second thought! He’ll hate you by the time I’m through with him!” It was like talking to a brick wall.

Anger bubbled and festered inside of him, threatening to make him act irrationally, but he had to stay in control. She was his to control and he simply had to remind her of that, but something stirred deep down inside of him as he stared into those lifeless eyes and pushed its way to the surface, escaping him in the form of an ear piercing screech, the sound odd when coupled with his smile. Even then, there was nothing from her. He could see her consciousness slipping away as her eyes began to droop, but he felt no satisfaction in it. He lost satisfaction in everything about this.

***

All at once, Ottilie could breathe again as the weight was lifted off of her and the hand around her throat was gone, Alastor nowhere to be seen. She was no longer numb as she took a deep gasp of air, filling her lungs until they couldn’t hold any more, her chest arching toward the ceiling all the while. She coughed and sputtered as spit coated her chin, everything beginning to ache with pain once again. Turning on her side, her fingers clawed at the ground as she desperately tried to regain control of her breathing. Her entire body trembled, shaking violently and painfully as she curled into herself.

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that, but eventually she picked herself up from the floor and made her way to her room, her body protesting the entire way there. She fought back tears all the while, not wanting to cry over this but the urge so overwhelming that it was a wonder how she didn’t. Once in the safety of her bedroom, she shut the door and locked it behind her; she knew such a simple thing wouldn’t keep Alastor out if he came for her again, but it was a small comfort to know it was at least locked. She sank to the floor again, her back against the door as she wrapped her arms around herself, feeling so cold and wishing she could get warm as she rubbed her hands along her arms, but she was never warm. She had only ever known the cold.

As she sniffled and rubbed against her eye, still fighting tears, she heard a gust of wind before she felt the breeze that came with it. Confused, she looked up to see that her balcony door was wide open, the curtains on either side billowing in the open air. She knew she’d left it closed when she left, having never actually gone out on the balcony. Fear gripped at her once again as she thought Alastor had indeed come back to finish her off, but the more rational part of her brain told her that he wouldn’t have bothered coming through the balcony. He could tear the door off its hinges like it was made of paper while barely lifting a finger, so she was simply left confused again.

Standing up on shaky limbs, she slowly and carefully made her way to the door, unaware that she would come to wish it had been Alastor waiting out there for her.

[strawberryspeachy]

So when i watched death note in high school it made me curious about real japanese police work. I read about it alot and came to the conclusion that their justice system isnt too great.

Im currently upset that a coworker who i took as a friend - not only disliked me all along - but went as far as to lie about me to get me in trouble. That no one cared to hear my side. That i was fired on the spot. That people turned their back on me immediately. That no one cares.

Well. 17 year old me would have said. But of course. In Japan your guilty until proven innocent. That japanese put on a show but dont truely like most people. That they band together and will go out of their way to avoid any kind of conflict. That they care more about a pretty appearance than solving anything. 17 year old me that only heard and read about Japan knew these things. 17 year old me imagined this cool different country that works because theyre proud of this... performance way that they live. And i was amused by it. All i knew was america and european history. I was so hungry for something different. I was so interested in different people.

Then I went to Japan. I got here and it was too similar to manga. How silly, i thought, those a comics - i didnt actually expect the country to be like those comics. And ive never really been able to place what that made me feel but id grown past this bemusement of different “alien like” people. Theyre just people who live in another country i thought. I dont like america and our norms. I know nothing but america but i dont agree with any of our steriotypes. You cant describe me the way most would try to describe a typical american. So why would people from any other country be different. Im sure theres people like the sterotype - but certainly more not at all like that.

And i got here and i watched the smiles on service workers slowly fade when they thought no one was watching. I watched children put trash where it didnt belong thinking no one was watching. I was girls laugh loudly and run around and yell at their boyfriends. I watched drunk college kids hollar and reak havoc in the city. Not robot people, not obedient children, not, quiet and demure girls listening to the men, not studious students worried about their reputation. Just people. The same people i saw back home.

And so i thought. Its the same. Different history. Varrying values. Same old people - judgmental and watching everyone ready to scold them if they deem it necessary.

But that guilty until prooven innocent thing. The fact that the old way of caring about your reputation is still a solid work practice.

These things. Make me feel like... i guess.... to my dissapointment. Maybe america really is more free...

I dont want that to be true. The us is so full of itself. Just like healthcare. I want universal health care to be a good thing and at very least in japan its not really. Its better. Its more affordable. Maybe their problem is just how much they hate drugs and thats what stops real care.

But. Ive always been a cautious person - i just dont want to get in trouble. But ive never thought id be in a situation i couldnt talk my way out of - because i dont do anything super bad. Maybe sometimes ive pressed the limits - but never outside of... like i drank underage. I tried to get into bars i wasnt old enough for. Ive dodged paying for the train fare. Dumb things. Things that the worse that would happen is i gotta pay it somehow or id get scolded. Drinking under age is against us law but its almost never taken too seriously.

But its occurred to me. Yeah. In japan it is guilty until prooven innocent. I really could have gotten in legal trouble for baseless allegations.

And japan is as racist and people say. Theyre friendly and try to talk to you in english and say nice things. And it doesnt seem like racism to a person from the states. Out racist look at you with digust. They wont touch you. They wont talk to you. They dont want to know about you

But here... it takes the form of a racist parent who grew up in the 50s and knows that theyre not supposed to be racist but still is.

Theyre welcoming and friendly to your face but talk shit behind your back. They ask a bunch of questions like (in america “where are you really from”) they refuse to accept you might actually belong. They constantly want to assert how different you are so instesd of telling you that your different - they ask questions or explain what theyre doing. And if you say ‘yes we also do this’ they react with disbeleif - what? No! You couldnt possibly get this - this is our thing and you are not us! And they constantly ask if you miss your home. Assume that you’re uncomfortable because they are. Also also. Instred of not wanting to touch you here - theyre much more willing to push you out of the way

Theres many mixed race kids here now though. I assume theyll have to do the same thing that happened in America. I havent met any mixed race adults but ive met plenty of white dads.... all trying super hard to assimilate to the point that they walk around talking like robots. Swearing that everything japan is great and they dont miss their home cointries at all. Pretty similar to the immigrants of america from when my mom was a kid.

So i still think at least for japan. Theyre way more similar to the west than they think they are. But these restricting regulations that they live by... really does make the country seem not as free as id ignorantly beleived it was.

It surprised me because their rules are so much like the way my great grandmother talked about stuff. And while were supposed to care... we just dont in the states. Respect your employer? Sure we say we do to their face but talk shit with coworkers. Worry about your reputation? Eh think im a bitch i dont give a fuck whatcha gonna do about it? Nothing thats right. Dont like another person? No one cares. Like that person or dont - it doesnt change anyone elses relationship with them. Make a mistake? Well if your boss fires you - everyone already probably thinks their an asshole cause generally mistakes are just met with some form of dickwaving belittlement. Pretty sure most of us get mad everytime we hear a story about someone getting fired because they posted a picture of them in a bikiki or having fun - most of this generation agrees thats dumb and has to change.

I feel more like an american now than ever. Americans are reluctant to change im told. Yes. I suppose we are. We might not know the rest of the worlds history but we kinda know our own. And as much as ive alwags agreed with the sentiment that cultures are different and thats just the way they want to be.... we used to be these ways but decided it was restrictive and controlling and mentally abusive and fought it...

Ive been reading more about the work culture in japan to figure out how he fuck this went so wrong. Apparently when young japanese people enter the work force, they cant even have friends as distractions outside of work because their boss will move them away from home.

Ive already read that japanese think suffering is good and seniority and witness first hand their preoccupation of appearing busy over actually being productive. Its just this constant performance.

Perhaps i did stress him out to the point of physical pain. I remember having a massive meltdown where i shook and it felt like my brain was melting after i tried so hard to be a good nice person. I did whag people apparently like. I changed myself to just agree with people and be positive and assume the best in everyone. Then my “friend” told me that i was a bad friend because i asked them if they would people drive their friends home so i could to sleep at 4am. And the two things just didnt click. I didnt go to sleep that night. I sat at my desk shaking for the next 5 hours and having flashbacks.

Im talkative. I talk as much as i do here in real life. And i have alot of questions. I talked to him a lot. Made him look not busy. I know he liked talking to me. I know he did. Thats why i got confortable talking more. He was always surprised when i asked him questions about himself but once he started answering he kept talking. Yeah. Its nice to have someone ask you what your thoughts are on topics. What your experiences have been. Did you like those things or not. I know japan it a group think culture - i guess they get there by really draining out ANY idea of individualality. He told me hed never been asked what he likes about himself. In the us were asked that constantly from elementary school “what do you like about yourself. What do you like about your friend. What makes you different?”

It kinda baffles me... questions and thoughts like these are so common in anime.... and obviously anime is popular in japan. Obviously obviously. Im confused how theyre watching these programs often with such deep meanings.... and not taking anything away from them. In the states our tv programs are always being restricted and stuff because they might give us “bad ideas” but they aren’t restricted here and yet... it seems no one takes anything from them

When i visited japan in 2013 i saw a teenage girl in huge heels lose her balance and stomp on a middle aged womans foot. That woman had already been standing like her feet were in pain and she made a face of being in so much pain. The girl rudely didn’t apologize and the older woman said nothing. She smiled through her pain...

And i also complained to my coworker. Not full on complaining. The small ones you make at work when youre not sure of the extent you can go to. At first he held off like the other teachers. But. Then. He started complaining back. It got to me not needing to be the one say an annoyance first. Like i asked how his meeting was. Other people i worked with might leave it ah it was a bit slow but necessary. And he started that way. But instead he started responding to me a succession of statements the slowly crept more toward his real feelings. ‘It was good... we didnt do much... or anything, i just sat and listened and took notes. we dont learn anything, it takes up a lot of time but we have to go. I dont like those meetings. I dont know their pupose... but were told to go so we must’

Whatever. Im just gonna keep rambling and complaining about this cause it sucks and is awful. Contracted woth my company i wasnt allowed to publically critisize japan. I imagine thats why you dont often find many things on the internet complaining. You will literally be unemployable if your name is attached to critisisms of this country.

Where as everyone can come to the states and tell us to our faces how much we suck and how much cooler their countries are. And generally the younger general is just kinda like - ‘you right’ people write articles all the time shit talking the states and we just go ‘ya we deserve that’ we do. Im not saying dont do that... but like... maybe just maybe. Were doing the good thing where were like

Haha call us fat! We are fat. We love us some mcdonalds. Hm.... why though. Actually we need to fix that. Why are people eating so unhealthy? What is the underlying cause of this problem? Lets try to work on that - and then we fight amoungst ourselves.

I like that... i like thay thing we do

In the states you might not want to become a ‘whistleblower’ and in some industrys you might get black listed for something dumb. But at least we talk about it and agree its a problem. In japan no one wants to even admit they have problems.

Know what else i told him. I talked about how were overworked in the states. That our work culture has gotten too similar to japans and we hate it. No one working 80 hour weeks thinks that they should have to do that. Of course i didnt go about it that way. I told him that my friends back home work 80 hour weeks and its unhealthy. That i cant work that much and refuse to. He i imagine counted how many hours he works and laughed and i said - oh haha yea i guess you also work that much. And he looked so much like he wanted to cry about it in the same way my friends back home. But said its natural in japan and that hes gotten used to it. But he definitely didnt mean it as he said it. I told him my friends say that as well. That i think theyre workaholics and i personally cant do it. That when work calls them they always pick up the phone even when they dont want to. But i dont do that. When my job called me as a server id ignore it and call them back later when it was too late for me to be asked to come in and ask them what they wanted.

Maybe to him my stories felt like when i read about students in europe being allowed to not go to school without reprucussions. It made HAVING to go to school evem more annoying. Why cant we choose to take breaks? I heard that place doesnt have homework - meanwhile im given at least 6 hours work a night! Not everyone has to do this? Other places learn things for fun?? They dont have to keep up with standardized exams that dont account for different teachers and school districts?? A 50% in that country isnt a failing grade???

Those were already shitty things but to read about them not bein universal did make having to endure it more upsetting.

Doesnt change that im stoll upset with him for not saying anything to me. Doesnt change that im mad that he made stuff up.

Really me rambling on about this doesnt change my presepective on any of it. Im just bitching

[thirdsisfics]

So Long As You Call Me Yours

Title: So Long As You Call Me Yours

Ships: Steve/Natasha

Words: 1376

Synopsis: Set in first half of the 18th century, young widow Natasha moves to a small island where she meets a stranger with a secret. 

Warnings: Scottish folklore AU, Chapter 1 of 2

Notes: For Romanogers week Day3. Prompt: “Beaches and Sunsets”. This is chapter 1 of 2. Read on AO3 (Both chapters are up on AO3)

A great tempest raged on the day The Widow came to the island. Some folk go so far as to say she brought the storm with her. Some say she’s blessed, that some angel or fae guided her ship safely to the island’s shores. Others say she is the storm. They whisper, “dead husband. Do you know how he died? No one does! She doesn’t say! Big city accent, Glasgow by the sound of it. And a foreign name” The wisest folk though, the wisest say nothing at all. They watch. They wait. They know what the start of a good tale sounds like. The wisest folk listen.

The sea had been calling her whole life. When her husband died, she was finally free to answer. She didn’t know what the Outer Hebridean island of Vatersay would hold for her, but she did know she wanted to find out. Her fondest memory was a childhood trip to the Outer Hebrides, and if she stayed in the city she’d have to fend off offers of marriage from men intent on securing her late husband’s business for themselves. So she packed a case, and took herself, her modest fortune, and her particular set of skills to Vatersay. She wore black out of custom, but when asked about her late husband she would say only “he wasn’t the kind of man the world will miss.”

Natasha didn’t mind the whispers or the looks she’s get from her new neighbors. They would either warm to her or they wouldn’t. After all, she had everything she needed. A cottage to herself and a view of the sea, white sand beaches and crystal blue water so clear you could see straight to the bottom. She had books, the stars on a clear night, her fiddle to play, and good whiskey to drink. She had west facing windows for watching the sunsets. Sunset quickly became her favorite time of day. There hadn’t been colors like this in the city.

She was watching the sun melt into the ocean one day when she noticed a man walking along the beach. It was unusual for two reasons: one, her neighbors came by rarely and never unannounced, two, the man was stark naked. It was a surprise, to be sure, but not a wholly unwelcome one. She hadn’t seen that much of a man’s flesh since her passed and, what a sight this man was. Tall and muscular with broad shoulders. He looked to be fair haired, but it was difficult to tell in the fading light. Where in heaven and earth did you come from? She thought. She decided she should be neighborly and offer him a blanket. Walking the beach this close to nightfall without a stich of clothing, he must have been very cold and very lost. Or she hesitated very mad. She decided she could be both cautious and charitable and tucked a knife into her bodice and she retrieved her least favorite blanket.

By the time she opened the back door to call out to the man, he was gone. There was no sign he’d been there to begin with. Perhaps he hadn’t. Perhaps the handsome naked stranger had been only a trick of the light. The Widow resolved not to give it too much thought. Her waking mind obeyed her dutifully, her sleeping mind however…

Seven suns rose and set before she saw him again. In the flesh, anyway, she saw him every night in her dreams. She was sure a dream was all he’d ever been. The product of isolation and an overactive imagination. She was sitting on rock on the beach, playing her fiddle as the sun got low and the sky exploded into oranges, pinks, and purples when she felt the sudden sensation of being watched. She ceased the movement of her bow and took her eyes off the horizon. That’s when she heard it, a voice from a ways down the beach.

“No need to stop on my account, lass. I like hearing you play.” His voice was gentle, calm, and bright with mirth, like waters on a windless say. She couldn’t explain why, but she knew it was him before she turned her head. She hoped he’d be dressed this time. No such luck. She gently set her fiddle on the rock and pulled off her shawl which she balled up and threw at him.

He looked down at the fabric as if puzzled. “Go on then, cover your bits. And I’m not a lass.”

“If you say so.” He did as he was bid, draping the black cloth around his hips. Now that he was somewhat covered, she turned her entire body to face him. He was closer now and she could see that he was indeed fair haired with eyes so blue they looked like sea in miniature. He was strange, to be sure, but he didn’t seem mad.

“Where have you come from dressed in nothing at all?”

“Home.”

“Which is where?”

He gestured out toward the water. She wrinkled her brows, he must mean one of the neighboring islands, though we’re about as far west as you could go. He must mean north. Probably come down from Barra for a laugh. “and how exactly did you get here?”

“I swam.”

“That explains the nakedness then. You’re not cold? That water is near frigid on the warmest days.”

He chuckled, “I’m accustomed to it.”

“Well, I should get going before the light disappears completely.”

“Before you go, play me a tune. Please?”

“Alright then,” There were worse ways to spend a few minutes than playing a tune for a stranger, even if that stranger happened to be dressed in nothing but her shawl. It was nice to have a willing audience. It was nice, though she hated to admit it, to have the company. “What do you want to hear?”

He smiled as he gazed out over the water. “Do you have one that sounds like sunset?”

She didn’t say a word; she just began to play. First it was soft and sweet and barely audible. Then it grew bright and fast and joyful. Eventually it resolved into something deep and slow and almost melancholy. By the time she finished, dusk had settled on the island and The Widow could hardly see a path down from the rock she was perched upon.

“Lovely.” He mused. “I’m sorry to have kept you so late. Are you quite stuck?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m stuck, just a wee bit wary of climbing down one handed in the near dark.”

“I see well enough in the darkness. Let me help you.”

He came to the rock and offered her his hand. She gathered the fiddle and bow under one arm and took his hand with her other. “Is it clear enough for me to jump?”

“You’ll get your shoes wet, the tide is coming in, but the path is clear of rocks.”

So she jumped. She gasped slightly as her bare feet hit the cold water. She could see him smiling at the sound.

“Well, thanks for the assistance.”

He dropped her hand. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

She was hesitant to let the stranger know where she lived. She was, after all, a woman living alone and he was a man she hardly knew. But then again, in her old life she’d become quite skilled at spotting those who might do her harm. She’d had to in order to survive. This man, though, he didn’t give off any of the telltale signs. It was a risk, sure, but her life had always been full of risks. So she let the mostly naked stranger walk her to the back door of the cottage. Where he made a motion to remove the shawl.

“You can keep it.”

“I can’t take it back in the water with me.”

“You’re going to swim home in the dark?”

“I’m accustomed to it.”

Before she could open her mouth to protest he had put the shawl in her hands and set off in the direction from which he’d initially come. How strange he was. How strange she felt to wish he hadn’t gone.

[gogoakechi]

1, 5, 11, 21 & 30???

1) a song you can listen to on repeat

im sure theres more qualified songs in my Arsenal than this one but i think ive been listening to Dare I Dare by The Voidz on repeat more often than any other song these past few months. its so fucking good. theres so much emotion and meaning in it and i LOVE julian casablancas voice. and the way they make certain lyrics glitched up enough to sound like nonsense as opposed to others is Genius. i havent looked up the Real Meaning behind the song but im pretty sure its about how bullshit the american dream really is and how america does everything in its power to keep immigrants from achieving success and like. Damn. plus the whole aesthetic of it i love immensely. i highly recommend their music.

5) a song that makes you sad

Kettering by The Antlers. i actually listen to this album sometimes when i get real upset about something changing in my life, or simply really depressed or suicidal. its about a nurse in a relationship with his patient, a dying woman angry with him, angry with her disease, almost demanding to be let go of. and the nurse does whatever he can to keep her alive and happy but she hates him for it. its a metaphor for an abusive relationship and it breaks my heart.

11) a song that brings back good memories

this song isnt completely within my tastes, but my dad used to play Diary by Bread on his guitar a lot when i was little. hed also play songs like One Thing by Finger Eleven, Puff the Magic Dragon, Have You Ever Seen The Rain? by Creedance Clearwater Revival, but Diary reminds me of his playing the most. he hardly ever plays anymore so it also kinda makes me sad but Such Is Life

21) a song for the rain

im not be real theres not many songs i can really imagine being Rain Songs so im gonna go with the easiest answer, pulling a song from my favourite band, Fortuna, I Am A Spear Fisherman by Blackbird Raum. its not much at all like theyre other songs, being slow and sorrowful, played on a piano, but it works SO well for them. i could never find the lyrics, but the poem read is called The Purse Seine by Robinson Jeffers. its more or less how the world is being choked and killed by governments and authorities and greater powers than the individual, preying on our dependency towards one another, and while our world may not die within our life time, we still see and feel the effects of its dying state.

30) a song you recommend

Tightrope by Yeasayer was a song i found only recently. i dont know where ive heard it before, if at all, but something about it gave me such a visceral sense of comfort and familiarity honestly almost started to fucking Cry. its got a number of different messages, like making the effort to fix and apologizing for mistakes rather than just wishing you could, loving those around you with all youve got, as well as letting others love you with all they have, and letting people help you. and i dont know it just kinda Hits Me. doesnt make me feel as alone or inhuman.

🐻 music asks babey 🐻

[dibs4ever]

I love him so much (Prequal)

Barbara Gordon stood in the shower letting the hot water relax her muscles. In the past 4 weeks, she had thrown herself completely into her batgirl duties. She knew it was only a distraction from -him.

But it was better than where she had been the previous month. Where she just lied in bed all day ignoring the outside world completely. She didn’t want to eat, patrol, exercise, socialize or even bathe. All she wanted was for the pain of losing her best friend to go away

Today was her annual physical with Dinah. She’d already canceled and rescheduled twice and she knew if she canceled again D would break into the watchtower and drag her to her office herself. She laughed lightly Dick always hated going to these check-ups. ”They’re pointless” hed insist. Somehow everything reminded her of him , his spare toothbrush and extra clothes that he kept in her guest bedroom that she couldn’t seem to bring herself to throw away, the cereal aisle at the grocery store, the color blue, her old bedroom where they slept with each other for the first time  after getting hit with Ivy’s-“

She turned off the water those days were over. Dick Grayson existed now only in memories.

When she walked into Dinah’s she looked surprised “Barbara hey! I was half expecting you’d call and cancel” she said flopping down in a seat and patting the bed in front of her.

“I knew you’d come find me if I didn’t show,” Barbara said hopping up on the bed

Dinah smiled “ You know me so well. So how are you really?” She asked

Barbara shrugged “ Fine I guess”

Dinah shook her head “ Barb come on talk to me”

Barbara sighed “I’m—-doing better” it wasn’t a lie she really was.

Dinah nodded “You know I can still prescribe you something to help. There’s no shame in it Barbara”

She let out a sigh “Yeah I know. But I’m doing better honest”

Dinah shook her head “No you just traded lying in bed and sleeping all day for completely throwing yourself into Batgirl duties. I heard you are quitting your job at the library”

Barbara shrugged “We have a lot of missions and investigations going on right now”

“Are you ever Barbara Gordon anymore? I ran into your dad yesterday and he said he hasn’t seen you in 3 weeks and that you always say you’re busy with class. You dropped out of your classes the day of Dicks funeral”

Barbara glanced at her fingers at the mention of his name

“Sorry,” Dinah said softly fearing she had triggered something

Barbara shook her head “No you’re right, let’s just get this over with”

Dinah nodded

An hour later Dinah slipped off her vinyl gloves ”Welp you're almost done, let me just go in the back and check you're bloodwork then you'll be on your way.

Barbara nodded “Great, I have some computer analysis’ I need to get done”

Dinah laughed as she exited the room. She came back a few moments later though holding the paper in her hand, examining it with a completely different expression on her face.

“Di is everything alright?” Barbara questioned jumping off the bed and approaching the other woman

Dinah continued to look at the blood test results “Barbara when was your last mensural cycle?”

Barbara thought for a moment “I don’t know, maybe 6 weeks ago. But ya know it’s always been kinda wonky and with everything going on—- “ she stopped “Dinah did the blood test come back with something. Am I sick?”  

Dinah shook her head “Barb when was the last time you were.....active?”

Barbara rose an eyebrow “Active?” she thought her mind having flashes of his hands running up and down her back. Her hands tangled in his hair, his lips on her neck whispering sweet nothings to her. “I don’t know I guess a little over two months ago. Dinah is everything okay? You’re kinda scaring me”

Dinah nodded “Well kinda, you don’t have a disease if that’s what you’re thinking. But according to this”, she taped the paper and read over the results for the tenth time just to be sure she was definitely reading it correctly “You’re pregnant “

Barbara took a step back “Pregnant? “ she shook her head “That’s impossible”

“Did you use protection?” Dinah shrugged

Which time. Barbara mentally thought but the news was still waving over her “You said that I couldn’t get pregnant because of all the stress, activity and injury I put on my body over the years”

Dinah shook her head “I never said you couldn’t, I said it was a possibility that you couldn’t “

Barbara shook her head “I can’t be pregnant. It must be a mistake I mean if I’m pregnant that means it’s “ she bit her lip unable to say the name.

“Dick’s?” Dinah finished the sentence for her

Barbara remained silent but her deep inhalation giving her the answer

“We can do an ultrasound to confirm “ Dinah tilted her head, Barbara gave a nod

A few moments later Barbara was lying back on the bed her shirt up while Dinah sat beside the bed with an ultrasound machine.

She squirted some cold gel on her stomach before waving the wand around. After a couple seconds of what looked like nothing an image appeared

“Is that?” Barbara began

Dinah nodded “That is your baby.” She continued to wave the wand around “If I had to guess I’d say you’re about 10 or 11 weeks along”

Barbara continued to stare at the screen, the timing was definitely correct “Is it-“

“Okay?” Dinah nodded “It has a heartbeat, wanna hear?” She began hitting buttons already knowing Barbara’s answer was yes

The thump-thumping of the heartbeat came through the speakers

Both Dinah and Barbara stared in awe

She pushed herself up getting a better look at the screen “Turn it off” she said quickly

Dinah did as she said and handed her a towel to wipe the gel off her stomach “Are you Alright?”

Barbara laid back on the bed blinking as she did a breathing exercise to calm her nerves. “I’m carrying a dead man's child”

“ You’re carrying Dick Grayson’s child” Dinah reworded

Barbara nodded “I’m carrying Dick Grayson’s child” she rested her hand on her stomach as if the realization was just setting in she shook her head “Nobody can know about this Dinah”

“Okay,” Dinah said slowly

Barbara caught onto what was probably going through her friend's mind “I’m keeping it, I couldn’t imagine not. I mean this is Dick’s child.”

“So how are you going to keep this a secret?” Dinah asked

Barbara shrugged “I don’t know, I guess they’ll find out at one point. But how will Bruce and my father react?” She shook her head “We weren’t even dating we were just-“

“Dick and Babs?” Dinah questioned

Barbara nodded “Yeah....Bruce I don’t think he’ll care much. But my dad....as far as he knows Dick and I have never had anything more than friendship. He’d freak out”

Barbara doesn’t know why but she decides to tell Wally first. She calls him as soon as she gets out of Dinah’s office and asks to meet him for lunch, Wally never turns down food so of course, he agrees.

They’re sitting in a little Cafe in Polo Alto when she finally works up the nerve to slide the envelope across the table to him

“What’s this?” Wally rose an eyebrow, opening up the envelope he pulled out the ultrasound photos Dinah had printed for her. She didn’t want them, but Dinah insisted if she didn’t she may regret not getting them

Barbara watched as Wally’s eyes scanned over the photos “Are these- is this you?” he questioned

Barbara nodded

He let out a sigh “Congrats I guess” he set the photos down he was quiet for a moment “So this is why you called me for the first time since Dick’s service? You wanted to tell me that you’re pregnant?”

Barbara shook her head “Wally it’s not-“

He cut her off “No Barb, Dick would be happy that you’re moving on really he would. He loved you that much.”

“Wally I’m 11 weeks along”  she cut in

Wally’s mouth opened “You mean” he picked up the pictures again “This is”

Barbara nodded “Yeah I just found out a few hours ago. You’re the only one who knows- besides Dinah who told me”

A small smile crept on Wally’s face “Dick is going to be a dad”

Barbara smiled “Yeah I wish he was here”

“Could you imagine if he was here. He’d freak” He handed her the photos back

Barbara shrugged “I’m not sure if he’d freak in a good way or a bad way”

Wally chuckled “Are you kidding me? Sweetie if he knew that his Babs was barring his child he’d be cheering at the top of his lungs. Heck he’d be swinging from the rooftops announcing it to all of Gotham and Bludhaven to hear”

The next person she tells is Tim and Stephanie. It wasn’t planned it kinda just happened a week after her appointment. They’re at the batcomputer when she walks into the cave.

“Hey Barb, it’s actually great that you’re here we could use your help,” Stephanie says in full Spoiler gear

Tim nods “Yeah, how fast do you think you can suit up?”

Barbara shakes her head “I-can’t “

Tim steps away from the computer “Still? Dinah said you needed a break but I figured after a week you’d be itching to get out”

Stephanie stood behind him nodding in agreement

“I can’t for at least another 6 months “ she sighed

They both looked at her oddly

“Are you okay Barbara?” Stephanie stepped forward

Barbara nodded “Guys I’m-“ she paused “I’m having Dick’s child”

They both fell silent “You mean?” His eyes glanced down to Barbara’s stomach then back at her

Stephanie covered her mouth with her hand “This is a plot twist I didn’t see coming”

“Does Bruce know?” Tim whispered

Barbara shook her head “Only  Wally, Dinah and now you two know”

The next day she tells Bruce. She figures he’ll figure it out eventually especially now that Tim and Stephanie know. She lights the bat signal and waits for him to show. He lands on the rooftop looking slightly surprised. Something unusual “Barbara,” he says in his batman voice “When do you think you’ll be able to go back on patrol again?”

Barbara shakes her head “Not for a little while”

“He’s the father correct?” Bruce says not looking at her

Barbara shrugged “I figured you’d know”

“There aren’t many things that would require Dinah to request you be out for several months” he retaliates “Plus I know you’re the only one who could drive Dick to be careless”

Barbara nods in agreement

“So answer my question. Dick’s the father correct?” he persists

Barbara glances at him “Do I need to?”

Bruce glances back at her “Am I supposed to say congratulations or good luck?”

Barbara doesn’t respond

“If you come across anything you would like or need just contact Alfred and I will be sure that it is taken care of, and come to the manor whenever need be” he says before grappling off into the Gotham night. He tells Damian and Alfred, Alfred is happy for her but sad that the boy he helped raise won’t be here to see his child. Damian thinks the child will be a great vigilante someday.

Jason finds her, it’s a month later. She’s officially 4 months along and still not showing which is a blessing since her dad still doesn’t know.

Red Hood lands on the balcony to the clock tower. Setting her book down she goes to the sliding glass door and opens it “Hey” she greets

Jason nods stepping in “Hey Barbie” he pecks her on the cheek

She watches him for a moment “Unusual for you to pay random visits hood”

He’s quiet for another moment “Is it true?” He asks glancing around the room

Barbara bites her lip “How’d you hear?”

Jason looks at her “Believe it or not our little family of sorts likes to gossip. So is it? Did you and Dickie boy not wrap it?”

Barbara rolls her eyes typical Jason and nods in response

Jason nods back he looks her up and down “You can’t tell, you don’t have a stomach yet.” He pokes her belly “So is the little rugrat a boy or a girl?”

Barbara shook her head “I don’t know yet”

Jason nods “You been getting along okay?”

Barbara lets out a breath “Believe it or not this has helped me get over Dick’s death”

“Well ya know if you ever need-I mean I'm not gonna be the twerp's new dad- but if need help ever” he stammers

Barbara smiled “Thanks Jay”

Jason looks her over “Well I’m craving a smoke and I’ve heard it ain’t good to smoke around pregnant ladies, I know ole Dickie might come back from the grave if I put his offspring in danger” he says and before she knows it he’s gone

It’s a month later, she’s a little over 20 weeks and she still hasn’t told her dad. She knows she can’t keep the secret much longer. She finally begins forming a subtle bump. She knows she’s lucky she was able to hide it for this long.

Barbara wakes up in a hospital bed, her hands immediately going to her stomach. She thinks back last she remembered she was in the Batcave working on a case. She had thrown herself full-fledged into her duties as Oracle working long hours. “Barb!” She instantly hears her dad rushing to her bedside “Timothy Drake called, he said you passed out at Wayne Manor. He brought you here”

Barbara blinked the realization coming to her

“It took me forever to find you. The maternity ward? Why are you here.”

“Dad” she breathed “I’m-“

Before she could continue a Doctor walked in

“Miss.Gordon, glad to see you’re awake I’m Dr.Fraggs.” He shook her hand then her dads

“Doctor is everything alright? Is my baby okay?” Barbara immediately asks, not caring if her father was in the room

Fraggs smiled “Yes we did an ultrasound as soon as you came in. Your baby is fine- would you like to see him?”

“Him” Barbara repeated

Fraggs nodded “You didn’t know?”

Barbara shook her head and laid back allowing the Doctor to proceed with the ultrasound “He’s quite the little mover” he remarked upon seeing the baby flip around on the screen

Barbara smiled “Yeah I can tell, I feel him all the time” she continued to watch the baby moving on the screen.

“Well, Miss. Gordon, we determined the reason for your blackout was you have been overexerting yourself.” He said as he turned off the machine a few minutes later. “So do me a favor and tone it down a little I don’t want to see you back here till it’s time for that bouncing baby boy of yours to be born”

As soon as the Doctor exited the room her father who had been silent spoke up “Mind telling me what that was about”

Barbara inhaled a breath “I’m pregnant”

Jim nodded “I see that were you planning on telling me?”

Barbara shrugged “When the timing was right”

He glanced at the image of the baby that was replayed on the screen “Who’s the father”

“I don’t know, I woke up from a drunken night in some guys bed. I was so ashamed I left before he woke up” Barbara lied

Jim nodded “I see.” He was quiet “I’ll help you through this” he assured than a smile formed on his face “Hey I’m going to have a grandson. Another Gordon right?”

Barbara flashed her father a smile as she mentally though “And another Grayson”