#it started with a song and then it mutated and left the prompt behind when I was barely two paragraphs in.

[rorahswriting]

Story 1

Wise man say, only fools rush in… So then I will gladly be a fool.

The darknes was only broken by the delicate light of the almost full moon falling in through the window. Looking at the man next to her, the princess felt a weird pain in her chest. He was everything her family had ever warned her of.

Fierce. Direct. Brutal. Wild.

And worst of all – a "wildling" as her father called his people. A man, willing and able to kill if necessary. A man who wouldn’t hurt a fly if not necessary. But all she could think of, as she felt his chest rise and fall underneath her head was the safety she felt around him.

As much as everyone always kept talking about the fact that he could tear down mountains if necessary, she much more valued how softly he was able to hold a newborn kitten without making it nervous in the slightest. Even if said kitten had not been bigger than half of his palm.

He was snoring slightly, a delicate growl resonating around the room.

Her hands seemed so tiny lying on his body, so lost among the tattoos tainting his sunburned skin black.

Lost in thought, she trailed the dark lines, forming into animals, patterns, decorating him, her chin resting directly above his heart. His heartbeat was steady, slow and strong. Rythmic like the beating of a drum, soothing her. The absolute opposite of the chaotic and unsteady fluttering of her own heart.

But around him, it suddenly seemed to understand how it was supposed to work, finally slowing into a comfortable rythm. Still fast and quick paced… but no longer as chaotic.

Her mind drifted off to their first meeting… about two weeks ago. Gods, it had only been two weeks? Time was weird sometimes.

***

Tired, the young woman sighed. On the table in front of her lay stacks of books, explaining the nature of political alliances, correspondences between kingdoms. Books diving into historical relationships between different cultural groups and races of humanoids.

Books drafting up explanations as to which laws were made up when and why.

The massive amount of information she was supposed to know by heart.

"As the princess, it is your duty to know these things." Her father’s voice echoed in her head, his only response to her questioning as to why being the same as usual: "So you are a useful asset to your future husband."

Per the king’s orders, she was not allowed to read anything aside from the necessary. To keep her focused on what was important. And after the previous librarian’s death, his successor stuck to those orders, no exception.

She had been sitting over these books for hours. Any distraction, no matter how boring, was better than being alone with her thoughts. It would be a week before she would meet her future husband. Her emotions were running wild. Anxiety that tilted towards sheer panic was sending cold shivers down her spine. Fear and resentment were rearing their monstrous heads, a sad resignation fighting against them. A resignation that was reminding her that nothing was to be done about her marriage in three weeks. On the day of her 21st birthday.

A half-elven heir of one of the most influential noble families in the kingdom. His mother the sister of the elvish king, his father the highest ranking noble-man, advisor to her father and richest man in the kingdom. The fact that said heir was more than ten years older than her could be ignored according to her father. As could his tendency to hurt his families maids for fun. And his treatment of the horses his father was known for raising.

The prospect of being his wife, the prospect of this man being the next king… It made her stomach sink. But it was a powerful bloodline her father had stated. She was not to be heard, only to be seen the king had reminded her, when she had tried to speak up about the rumours she had heard about her fiancée.

With a sigh, she shoved her chair from the desk, sighing heavily. The chairs movement caused the giant dog beneath her to stir and grumble his distaste for her movement loudly.

A massive black head lifted from the marble flooring to look at her, mirroring her own sadness. With a pained smile, she ruffled the long fur of her favourite guardian and stood up. "It’s ok. Styx. I’ll try to sleep in a bit…", she assured him, her voice quiet and broken. This seemed to placate him, the giant dog putting his head back down with a deep sigh.

The books were not helping anymore. Maybe some fresh air would.

Her bedroom was massive and she hated it. Nothing but an oversized, luxurious prison cell. The down blanket made from exotic birds, expensive marble flooring, magical candles lining the walls, ready to be switched on and off with a single word of command… the princess would have traded all of it for a single day of actual free will. She would have cut the mahogany bedframe into pieces and slept in the dirt - as long as it meant she was allowed to make her own decisions. Stretching, she stepped outside onto the small balcony, directed towards the east. So she could rise with the sun. The lack of curtains being a direct result of that thought process.

Not that she needed any. Her chambers were on the ninth floor, only a madman would’ve tried to get high enough to look inside the giant glass front – and even if someone was crazy enough, all they would see would be a mirrored image of the outside view.

The fresh spring air immediately cooled her nerves. A delicate breeze ruffled the basically see-through, white nightgown she was wearing, carrying with it the salty smell of the sea. Usually she would have stuck close to the walls, as her fear of heights would have overpowered her, though lately she didn’t mind standing near the railing, the thought of falling no longer being scarier than what inevitably awaited her.

Stepping towards the edge of her balcony to look at the courtyard and the guards’ patrol-balcony, she realised the slightest movement in the corner of her eye. Alarmed she turned to the left, only to be met with wide, dark grey eyes. In front of her sat a man, crouched. For a mere split second, their gazes met and he looked down at her before turning his eyes away. His hand immediately raised to cover them.

Her mouth agape, she was too shocked to make a sound, even if she had wanted to. The man was muscular, clothed completely in black. His skin barely showed through the clothing, his ears were covered – but there was no way she had mistaken him for one of the elven people anyway.

However from under his hood a horn curved out, growing from his forehead. And of course… her first thought was how it’s weird that it’s only one horn. Usually the wildlings had two, if the books hadn’t lied to her. She didn’t feel fear. Only fascination. But that apparently didn’t translate into how she looked, as in a hushed voice he spoke to her. „Please don’t scream. We can sort this out like civilized people.“ A short peak over his hand, before he looked away again. She raised an eyebrow.

„And maybe you might want to put some clothes on? It is kind of cold…“

His voice was deep. Deeper than any she had ever heard. He sounded full of life, full of energy. A slight undercurrent of humour in his tone, with just a tiny hint of surprise. As always when she stood out on the balcony, she felt as though she was able to see his emotions. Feel them.

He was caught off-guard, hadn’t expected to run into anyone. He emotions and thoughts were stumbling over themselves, everything inside of him running haywire. Urgency. Intrigue. And more. Emotions she was unable to place, or describe as she had never felt those before.

But as usual, it weren’t simply one person’s emotions. It were those of every being in the courtyard.

And a specific one caught her attention, tearing her from her focus.

Boredom. Annoyance. And they were getting ever clearer, so whoever was feeling them was getting closer. A guard. All alarm bells rang in her mind. From the balcony below, the one used by the guards to get a higher vantage point over the courtyard, he would be able to see them.

She hadn’t noticed that she’d slowly gotten closer to him, or that she had raised her head when the emotions had reached her sixth sense.

He was still talking, saying something she hadn’t caught. It didn’t matter. There was no time for thinking. The approaching guard seeing them would end badly. For both of them.

As far as she could sense, there was no ill will from his side towards her. Good.

His voice stumbled and he released a huffed grunt when she grabbed his shirt and dragged him inside. It was suprisingly easy to do so, comparing their stature.

The second they were back inside, her senses stifled, suffocating within the walls of the castle. She would never understand why that always happened. It was driving her mad. But she had learned her lesson as a child when speaking up about that sense. Ever since she had brought it up to her father, the stifling feeling had only gotten worse.

She had to blink to return back to the present, before realising what had just happened. There was a man in her room. A very surprised man, but nonetheless a man. At least two feet taller than her not counting the horns, now that he was standing upright. A man looking at her, while also trying not to look. While she was only wearing her see-through nightgown.

To be continued.

[yellowhollyhock]

The different family cultures of each iteration of turtles, using the example of how conflict is navigated

In 1987 when one of them is upset they will first have some type of small verbal outburst and then close themselves in their room. Then Master Splinter will say something like, “I believe this was very serious to him. You may have hurt his feelings.” Which is a very soft reprimand and also pretty redundant because this is a script they’re all familiar with. The offended turtle made an angry defensive statement and then shut the door. They all know this song and dance. But Master Splinter’s prompt is part of it because they all like routine (look at every single character with their “as Michelangelo would say, Cowabunga,” sometimes with Michelangelo standing right there, they love each other’s voices they love echoing each other they love predictability and familiarity). It’s like when I prompt my third graders to say sorry or excuse me or thank you; they know it’s coming, and when I’m not listening they do it on their own, but if they know I’m there they like to wait for prompt because it’s been established as a routine to help them learn social norms and it’s comforting to remember they can still have help (just have to be careful not to give too much help and end up making them feel judged and nagged) (am I saying that this happens with Splinter? Well I’m not not saying it). Anyway this is fitting and heartwarming because the 87 turtles mutated from toddlers into teens. They never got to be third graders and their family culture has developed in a way that allows them their dignity while also giving them as much structure and guidance and forgiving safety net as possible.

In 2012 when feelings get hurt it’s all very out in the open. Donnie insults Mikey’s intelligence? Mikey tackles him from behind. Leo is annoyed with Raph? Open criticism none secret. Donnie doesn’t like Leo pressuring him? He’s gonna scream about it might even throw something. And in the flip side, there’s Raph lifting Leo into a hug to show his gratitude for being accepted. There’s Donnie beaming at Mikey when he beats the electrocution game telling him how awesome he is. They’re very open with their feelings, like extremely so very open. Visiting their house would be just sensory overload. Like we all had those cousins right? There’s always peanut butter on the wall and screaming in the other room and the toilet seat is left up. It’s warm and comfortable but also really chaotic and almost disturbing. That’s the 2012 turtles. And this also makes a lot of sense considering they were the most completely isolated for fifteen years.

The 2003 turtles are very sensitive. Idk how else to phrase it. They’re very in tune with each other, and just like with the 2012 turtles this means they’re there for each other, and also that they hurt each other. But quite unlike 2012, they’re very… not reserved exactly. Not formal, either. There’s a lot of warmth but it’s very quiet. If 03 visited 12 (especially Donnie because I think that’s the starkest difference) they’d be shocked. It would feel rude to them. They definitely get angry but they’re very gentle with each other. They can hear the emotions loud and clear, but to someone who isn’t familiar with them the way they are with each other it can look like they aren’t communicating at all. They act the most their age when they’re only with each other, and much more grownup when outsiders are around (seeing them relax around April and Casey gets to me every time). This tracks because Master Splinter has never been human and started out with no idea how mutation would work. He needed them to grow up fast, superficially if necessary, because he didn’t know how long he’d be able to take care of them. And once that’s done you can’t just undo it.

With Rise when someone’s mad there’s a lot of yelling and name-calling. Donnie uses dum-dum, Raph and Leo both use jerk. Mikey purposely bottles it all up so he can be Dr Delicate Touch, which is terrifying honestly. If the name-calling cuts too deep or an issue is more serious to one guy than the other guys, they’re all about big elaborate gestures. Lots of big gestures for expressing positive emotions, too. When Donnie’s robot hurts his brothers feelings they reprogram him to bully his creator (they obviously didn’t mean for it to be as dangerous as it was but even so their plan was quite. Excessive). When they accidentally flush Piebald they end up dealing with an entire revenge plot from her and Master Splinter himself. They have a big old snowball fight over which Jupiter Jim movie they like best. Whether they’re expressing hurt or just saying I love you, it’s all about ✨ pizazz ✨. Which. You know. They were raised by Lou Jitsu who is all about pizazz, but not only that, they had to use big gestures to get his attention.

It’s interesting to think about how these differences would affect how they are with each other. 1987’s rituals would throw off most of the other turtles, I think the rise boys would love it though. 2003 turtles are positively chaotic but in a multiversal group they’d never get blamed for stuff because they seem polite.

[maximoff-pan]

57 with Peter Maximoff? 'cause your writing about him makes me soft 🥺

Prompt:

57. Breaking The Kiss To Say Something, Staying So Close That You’re Murmuring Into Each Other’s Mouths

Character: Peter Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Word Count: 1.4 k of (hopefully) tooth rotting fluff....like maybe you’ll need a dentist after reading???

A/n: Anon, you’re way too sweet! And honestly, writing about him makes me soft, so I really hope you enjoy! (I know I did writing this)....Anyway, I also want to note that this (the beginning), does not perfectly (or even close to perfectly) follow the plot or script of days of future past. I just somewhat mimicked it....It doesn’t have a ton to do with the movie, but just in case anyone is confused, that is what it’s based on. I also had to check the timelines, so I think they’re right. It says that Peter is born in 1955 and DOFP takes place in 1973, so that’d make him approximately 18. I’m sorry if that’s wrong, but I hope you enjoy anyway!

You distinctly remember the first time you met Peter Maximoff. And thinking back on it now, you’re not sure there’s a world in which it’s possible that you could ever forget it. You’d both been so young, barely 18, and yet, as conflicted as you’d felt when you’d first laid your eyes on him, there was an instant connection between you. It was unbelievably undeniable...something not even Charles could explain when he’d met the pair of you.

You’d both met Charles, Hank, and Logan on the same day. You’d only known the three mysterious men for a few more hours than Peter had, them picking you up from your home because your mutation was integral in breaking Erik out of the Pentagon. (Personally, at the time, you didn’t see why your mutation of invisibility would be so helpful....but Charles more than insisted. So you just said, ‘sure, what the hell. I’ve got nothing to lose,’ and went along with them...for the adventure of course). Unfortunately (or fortunately, you’re not quite sure), your next stop was to convince some teenage speedster to join you....hence, you meeting Peter.

“You’re not cops.” Was the first thing you heard out of his mouth.

His voice had taken you back. He’d managed to sound both arrogant and insecure, all in one utterly short sentence. How on earth could anyone manage that? On a first judgment, this boy gave you mixed feelings. Was he an ass? Or was he just scared...nervous, or maybe both?

Logan simply scoffed, his arms folded across his chest. “And what makes you say that, kid?”

“Rental car.” Peter tutted, a glimmer shining brightly in his eyes. “And you really expect me to believe some rando teenage girl is working as an officer for whatever joke of a police force you claim to be a part of? I don’t think so.”

“Excuse me?” You spat at him.

The grin that plastered itself on his face was vomitous. “You’re excused princess.”

That nickname made your blood absolutely boil, and your skin crawled with frustration. You turned to Logan bitterly. “And we need this klepto ass clown why?”

“Unfortunately, his mutation is exactly what we need.” Hank broke in, speaking for Logan.

Honestly, if Logan could’ve made the choice that day, he would’ve left Peter behind. He thought you and your mutation were enough, that unlike Charles and Hank, Peter was not a necessity, he was just a fucking nuisance. He much preferred you....but he was stuck with both of you.

If he had been able to make that decision, at the time, you would have agreed with Logan wholeheartedly. Peter annoyed you to no end, and from the moment you met him, he continuously tried to rile you up. But today? Today you’re very much glad Logan had not been granted permission to make that decision. If he had, then you’d never have met Peter. You’d never have met the love of your life, your husband, and the father of your children.

You never would have been truly happy. But thank god Logan hadn’t made that decision....thank god....

Now? Now you’re happily married. You’ve put your X-Men days behind you, trading them in for teacher’s positions at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. Soon, you’ll even be teaching your own children, twins James and Eleanor, and baby Wyatt (in that order, oldest to youngest)...but for now, they’re still too young to be learning at Xavier’s. For now, you’re spending your last few months on maternity leave, before you head back to teaching.

Home life has been crazy, two toddlers and a new baby will do that to you. And Peter has been your absolute rock. (You’ve also been his, which he tells you everyday, but you never seem to believe it)...

You live right off campus, so Peter’s commute to work is practically nonexistent, which means he’s able to be at home with you fairly shortly after his work day ends. (It’s literally a lifesaver), and Peter loves being at home with your kids. There’s honestly nowhere he’d rather be....except maybe cuddled in bed next to you, the house completely quiet from children screaming or babies crying.

“The twins go to bed okay?” You ask your husband as he tiredly walks into your shared bedroom.

“Define okay.” He jokes. You tilt your head, shooting him a look of uncertainty. “In all seriousness,” he starts, “probably the best bed time this week.”

Peter’s beaming with the pride that he could get his children to actually behave and go to sleep at a godly hour, and it warms your heart. You can see it in his being, just how much love he has for them.

“I’m glad.” You smile. “Wyatt’s down. Out like a light.” You gesture to the baby sleeping in the crib next to your bed.

Peter’s eyebrows raise, a mischievous grin on his face. “Does that mean I can kiss you now?” He asks and your eyes widen.

“That’s definitely not what I thought you were going to say.” You laugh softly. “I was expecting something more along the lines of... ‘let’s have sex.’ Instead, you ask your wife, let me remind you in case you forgot, your wife, if you can have a simple kiss? Ladies and gentlemen, I married the most wholesome man on the planet!”

He responds with a laugh of his own, your antics more than amusing him. “So you’re saying, we could’ve had...” he pauses for a moment, feigning innocence and whispering, “sex?”

“We could’ve.” You shrug. “But you passed up on it.”

Peter throws you a goofy grin, eyeing you up and down. “I’m still taking that kiss though.”

“No one’s stopping you.”

“Mhm.” He finally leans in, placing his lips softly on yours. At first the kiss is gentle, but as the seconds pass, the intensity grows. You don’t know when exactly that it happens, but suddenly you find yourself on Peter’s lap, basically straddling him. Your mouths move in harmony, harder and faster than a few moments prior.

He lets out a groan of approval as you rake your hands through his long (ish) silver hair. Taking this as your opportunity, you deepen the kiss, propping yourself off of Peter’s lap, and pushing him further into your bed.

His hand grips your arm, securing his other arm around your waist and flipping the two of you over, him now on top. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip, begging for entrance. It’s like the perfect storm of anticipation. You both want to take things further, desperately, but the universe decides it has other plans for you (not allowing you a moment free from parenting), when your son begins to cry.

“Peter.” You murmur into his mouth. And as much as you don’t want to stop whatever this is, you also don’t want the wailing baby to wake your other children.

He pulls back reluctantly, letting out of sigh of frustration, as he watches you crawl across the bed and scoop Wyatt out of his crib. The crying stops almost instantaneously, and you both feel some sort of relief flood through you. If there was any plus side to come from this, at least Eleanor and James hadn’t woken up.

“It’s alright baby boy.” You coo as Peter watches you lovingly. “Mama’s got you.”

“Daddy’s here too.” Peter nearly sings at your baby son. “And he loves you very much.”

“Mommy loves you more.” You tease, speaking in the same sing song voice your husband had just used.

Peter scoffs. “I don’t think so.” He sings back. “Mommy and Daddy love you equally.”

“Oh I’m sure they do.” The sarcasm in your tone is evident, and at that, he reaches over to gently tickle your sides, careful not to disrupt your position with Wyatt.

You release a gentle string of giggles, feeling Peter’s fingers halt their actions. “I surrender! I surrender.”

“You see that Wyatt?” Your husband asks your son. “Your Mommy has me absolutely whipped. I couldn’t be a happier man.”

“And I a happier woman.” You pause, leaning down to whisper in Wyatt’s ear, just loud enough for Peter to hear. “Besides, your Daddy’s been whipped by me since the second he first saw me.”

Peter simply shrugs, grinning down at his little family. “You’re not wrong.” Placing a kiss on your forehead, he hums lightly. “Your Mommy’s definitely not wrong.”

[jaskiersvalley]

TITLE: Wings of Destiny

AUTHOR/ARTIST: @jaskiersvalley

PROMPT DAY #: #7 Destiny

SUMMARY: Every time Jaskier spoke about destiny, he said “those linked by destiny will always find each other”. Everyone else said “people linked...” which hurt Geralt. Did Jaskier not see him as a person?

WORD COUNT (if applicable): ~2k

BOOKS/NETFLIX/2002 SHOW/VIDEO GAME: Netflix show

TRIGGERS/WARNINGS: None.

RATING: Teen and up.

ADDITIONAL NOTES: Written as part of @geraskierweek.

For all the claims about Witchers and their abilities, it took Geralt an embarrassingly long time to notice things about Jaskier. And an even longer period to actually figure out what it all meant. Though, to be fair, he didn’t so much figure it out as more that he got smacked in the face by it.

Some things, Geralt could almost excuse himself for not noticing. Jaskeir was a bard with ineffable whims and plans. He came and went as he pleased, flitting in and out of Geralt’s life with an almost supernatural sense of when things were going wrong. It was the cause of that argument on the mountain. Geralt, tired, frustrated and hurt, took his rage out on his longest standing friend, just because he had shit timing. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair. After that Jaskier disappeared for a year. There were murmurs of him, songs sung that he’d left behind but Geralt couldn’t seem to catch up with him.

Destiny did though and suddenly Geralt had custody of his orphaned Child Surprise. When she told him, with all the serious wisdom of a child that “those linked by destiny will always find each other,” it made Geralt pause mid motion.

“What did you say?” So Ciri repeated herself. “No, it’s people linked by destiny.”

“That’s not what I was taught.” Which could only mean one thing. While Geralt had been busy pretending his Child Surprise didn’t exist, Jaskier had spent enough time with her to teach her his own stupid little phrase. It was another reason Geralt was so angry with him. Because, deep down, he knew that despite all the shit he’d spewed about Destiny, it effect him. Destiny impacted on his life as much as anyone else’s. And Jaskier knew that too. But whenever he said that stupid phrase, emphasising the “those” rather than saying “people” while looking at Geralt meaningfully, it made Geralt’s heart twist. He knew most didn’t consider him a person, a Witcher was an outsider, a mutant. To hear Jaskier dehumanise him like that burned.

As things tended to go, Geralt and Ciri were on the run, pursued even as they tried to get to Kaer Morhen for safety. That was when Geralt quite literally tripped over Jaskier. Or rather, Jaskier’s lute. He hefted it up, surprised by its weight and eyed the bard who had been doing who knew what by those bushes. Probably foraging if the berries and leaves in his hands were anything to go by.

“Geralt,” he greeted, a little cold and wary.

“Bard.”

“Jaskier!” Ciri squealed and ran at him with a jump into his arms. All the carefully picked berries went flying as Jaskier scrambled to catch her. By way of apology, Ciri invited him to travel with them, a knowing “those linked by destiny” bullshit making her lips curl up. To make matters worse, Jaskier smiled at her and accepted the offer of travelling together.

Which was when Geralt noticed the second strange thing. Jaskier liked to carry his heavy lute on his back. Not slung over one shoulder, not resting on a strap and bouncing against his belly. Fully on his back like some strange bag. It wasn’t up to Geralt to question it though, it was probably some strange custom Jaskier had seen on his travels and decided to imitate.

They had enough coin for a room. And a bath. It had been pouring it down with rain, the three of them were soaking wet and drenched in mud. At least Ciri was just wet rather than muddy as she had been given the privilege of riding on Roach.

“You both smell. Go take a bath,” she ordered haughtily from under the furs. There was a knowing look in her eye and Geralt didn’t put up much of a fight.

“I’ll wash your back,” Jaskier offered softly. He even pulled out a couple of salts and oils from his bag.

They didn’t argue about how this was going to go. Old habits were easy to fall back into. Geralt bathed first, Jaskier helped him wash, pulled filth out of his hair and scrubbed his back. Once Geralt was done, he left Jaskier to wash himself. The bard was never covered in filth like he was, so didn’t need help, his hair never so messy he couldn’t deal with it by himself.

When Geralt returned to their room, freshly clean, he was greeted by Ciri’s glare.

“Why don’t you help Jaskier?” Voice accusing and displeased, she had Geralt returning the the tub room very quickly.

“Need a hand?” He rumbled as he stepped back into the room. Opposite him, Jaskier yanked his shirt back down with wide eyes.

“No, thank you.”

The words and actions screamed of guilt though and Geralt frowned. All these years, he hadn’t seen Jaskier naked. Or even shirtless. Despite the number of times Geralt had been nude or partially undressed around him. What was Jaskier hiding?

“Ciri said I should help.”

“Ciri isn’t the boss of you. I’m quite fine, thank you.” Terse and succinct, Geralt could almost feel the unease and rolling off Jaskier.

“I’m not defying my Child Surprise and risking her wrath.”

Sighing in defeat, Jaskier could agree with that statement. “Very well. But turn away.”

Obedient, Geralt turned his back to Jaskier and listened to the clothes being taken off, the water sloshing as Jaskier stepped into it and bite down on a groan. Curiosity got the better of Geralt and he peered over his shoulder.

No matter how much he looked, Jaskier looked...well, normal. He’d expected some horrifying deformity or scar which the bard might be shy about but there was none of that.

The sound of approaching footsteps made Jaskier’s eyes shoot open. He watched with a small amount of fear as the Witcher approached.

“Geralt.” There was a warning in his voice but it went ignored.

“Let me wash your back.”

Geralt sat behind the tub and waited for Jaskier to lean forward. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Slowly, reluctantly and hesitantly, Jaskier pulled away from the edge of the tub.

On his back were two long lines. Geralt had dismembered enough winged creatures to know what he was seeing. But it didn’t make sense. Jaskier was no harpy, no dragon.

“I’m sorry.” The words from Jaskier startled him and he gave a curious “hmm” to encourage him to keep talking. When no words came forth from the usually verbose bard, Geralt took matters into his own hand.

“What are you?”

It took a minute for Jaskier to answer, voice soft and hoarse. “An angel. Or rather, a fallen one.” More silence but Geralt began to wash his back, waiting for the story to continue. “I was a guardian angel. And I failed. Got distracted by the choir, took my eyes off my charge. In that time, he was abandoned to a fate cruel and harsh. His mother, under the influence of a demon, allowed her son to be left, to me mutated into something else, embark on a path Fate hoped would never happen.”

Geralt drew in a breathe, hoping he wasn’t understanding it right. Because if he was...

“I was cast out and Destiny linked me to who was my charge. To witness my mistake and try and ease it in any way I could. See, those linked by destiny will always find each other.”

It finally clicked and Geralt closed his eyes against the onslaught of emotions he didn’t even have words for. Jaskier had never dehumanised him, he was referring to himself all along. The lute was heavy, probably a similar weight to the wings he missed so much. And destiny had them linked, it was why Jaskier showed up in his life so often. Probably to mitigate some disaster. He didn’t make life more difficult for Geralt, he made it easier. All this was crowned off with what sounded like eons of guilt at failing. At seeing the choir and wanting to join rather than protect some child. Fate was cruel to have allowed him to fall and become a bard.

Geralt didn’t know what to say. How to absolve Jaskier. Because it wasn’t alright, his life as a Witcher was not an easy one and, especially at the start, Geralt had raged against the powers that be for the hand he had been given in life. But it wasn’t all bad, he got so much out of it, some things he would never trade. Like a bard who didn’t seem to age, a Child Surprise who knew everything better. That was a thought, she probably did know about this.

“Ciri?”

“She knows. Some aren’t destined to be kept in the shadows of not knowing.”

Nodding, Geralt returned to washing Jaskier’s back, fingers gentle over the long healed scars, massaging phantom pains from the muscles around them. He didn’t claim to understand many things in life, rebelled against destiny and fate at every turn he could. But it had brought Jaskier into his life and, for that, he was grateful.

[henryobsessed]

The Widow and The Witcher Chapter 25

Summary: Getting ready to leave Kear Morhen Julia stumbles on a room that should have remained closed.

Word Count: 3790 

Warning: PTSD episode, Bath tub scene, 

A/N What can I say, PTSD is a horrible thing that is difficult to live with and is not so easily worked through. Geralt and Julia will still experience issues as the years go on but they are working through it together. If this has bought up issues for you can I suggest that you reach out to a trusted friend or a professional you don't have to deal with it alone.

Song best played once the door has opened. 

Chapter 25 – Song "Find Me" by Sigma

Geralt's throat felt sore as he opened his eyes to the light. Realising he was wrapped up in Julia's arms he moved his head to look up at her. He met her eyes which were watching him, a soft smile on her face as she ran her hand through his hair "Morning" Geralt heard her soft voice and even though it was a single word he could hear the questions behind it. Not ready to talk just yet he smiled instead at her. His chest felt lighter today, the events that had occurred in the middle of the night had uncurled a band that had been constricting there for so long that this feeling was foreign, he was amazed at the lightness he now felt. Tucking his head back into the crook of her arm he said "Thank you Julia, thank you for creating a space where I could be safe"

Julia relaxed at his words. She could hear the effects of the night on his voice as it was deeper and more gravelly than normal. She had been worried at how he would be after, but she could hear a change in his voice. Now relaxed and just enjoying him in her arms she said, "Anytime you need it I'm here my love." She bent her head and kissed the top of his hair. "How do you feel today?" Julia questioned turning herself whist still holding him so she could look at him. Geralt smiled a genuine smile that reached deep into his eyes. "Peaceful, I know that I will never understand why my mother did what she did, I don't think even she knows, but I think I have come to a place of acceptance." He breathed deep and Julia saw peace etched in each relaxed muscle of his face. Smiling she reached her hand behind his head and pulled him close to kiss him on the lips. A slow kiss that deepened into a kiss that lasted well into the morning.      

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It was their last day at Kear Morhen, Vesemir was loading up a wagon with the possessions to take to the estate whilst Geralt and Julia were doing a walkthrough of the Castle. Checking to see if there was anything else that might help her as the now designated healer for the wolf pack. This was the first time she had really been shown the castle as most of their days had been spent out in the forest enjoying nature. Particularly the last week had been full of adventure as they explored the mountains, valleys and each other. They made their way down the stone corridors and through large and small rooms until they came to a door that felt strangely familiar to Julia. As they opened it she felt Geralt stiffen behind her, there was nothing in this room but empty shelves along the walls but there was a strong old smell of herbs that prompted a memory. The dream. She turned to see if Geralt was ok. His face had gone pallier that usual and his breathing was coming out in short pants as his eye darted around looking for an escape.

Geralt had been distracted when Julia had opened the door. As they stepped in the smell of the herbs triggered memories that he had locked away. Pain, excruciating pain, fear, being held down, trapped, screams, death rattles, and more Pain. His breathing became erratic and his vision blurred all he could see were the green bottles hanging from the walls, he felt frozen unable to move. Julia was standing before him talking to him, but he couldn't make out what she was saying, what was she doing here she had to get away it wasn't safe here. She took his hands and he stared down at them the contact helping him to focus. "Geralt, listen to my voice and breath with me, deep breaths, tell me what did we have for breakfast?" she said in a light voice, He tried to breath with her, to focus, and thought of breakfast. He could see them sitting in his room eating "Oats we had oats" he replied his voice sounding distant to his own ears.

Julia smiled at him her sweet voice cutting through the haze her eyes moist with unshed tears as she whispered, " That's right we had oats, and we are about to head home to see Ciri" Ciri he could see his daughter in his mind her sweet smile and hear her chattering. He could see the room now see that it was bare that the danger was no longer there. Julia kept hold of his hands, turned and lead him away from the room, away from the smells and away from his past.    

Finding a place to sit in an outdoor courtyard near by Julia pulled Geralt down next to her and wrapped him in her arms. They stayed that way until Vesemir found them. He had waited for along time and wondering if they had gotten lost or maybe lost in each other had decided he needed to hurry them along. What he had not expected was to find them sitting outside the rooms where the trial of the grasses had been held. Blanching at the thought of what Geralt must be feeling he approached as quietly and softly as he could. Julia heard him but Geralt seemed unaware gazing off his eyes unfocused. As she looked up at him the look in her eyes, the unshed tears tore at his old heart. Why had they come here, what had they been looking for to make Geralt open this door, one that all the Witcher's avoided when residing at the castle.

Vesemir crouched in front of Geralt and put a reassuring hand on his knee. Geralt could see the old mans face, could feel his touch but he couldn't form words to talk. He felt a bone-weary tiredness overwhelm him. He could see Vesemir his face focused on Julia they were talking but he couldn't work out what they were talking about. Julia was asking about an extra wagon, and Vesemir nodded looking back to Geralt. His eyes held concern but he didn't try talking he just squeezed Geralt's knee and left them. Julia started talking again stroking his back, "its ok honey, its normal to feel tired after what you have just experienced. Just keep breathing, focus on your breath, Focus on the sound of my voice and the other sounds you can hear." Geralt closed his eyes, he could hear her voice and the sound of birds chattering amongst the trees. He could smell the fresh air and feel her comforting hands as she continued to Rub circles on his back until Vesemir reappeared.

Vesemir came along side Geralt at Julia's request putting his arm around him to support him.  Together they helped Geralt out to the cart where He had laid blankets down in the back along with a pillow, to created a make shift bed. Vesemir supported Geralt to lie down and Julia made sure he was secure and drifting to sleep. Stepping down from the back of the cart Julia looked at Vesemir, he could see the sorrow in her face. As the first of many tears slid down her cheeks he pulled her into a fatherly hug. He felt her soft sobs as she whispered "why did they have to hurt so many boys Vesemir, It was so violent, and they were so young" as she spoke it was almost like she had experienced it with them he shuddered at the memory.

Holding her close Vesemir said in a tired voice "It was the lesser evil, the continent needed special warriors who could rid them of the monster pests who were creating havoc in the land, the monks did trials on themselves and with the help of sorcerers and their elixirs the mutation was created. These young boys were mostly abandoned, left orphaned and would have ended up dying on the streets or on the battle field at least here they were fed and cared for and if they survived ended up with a family for life." He knew it wasn't a conciliation, but it was the truth he had lived.

Attaching Julia and Geralt's horses to the wagon Julia took the reins. She turned to check that Geralt was still sleeping and then with a click of her tongue instructed the horses to follow Vesemir as they left the place of beauty and horror behind.

It was almost night fall when they stopped to camp beside the road, Julia had woken Geralt and together they had helped Vesemir set up camp. Geralt was silent during the evening and Julia worried about his change in demeanor. It was frustrating to her as he had such a breakthrough regarding his mother days before and he had been so happy and carefree. Now he looked tired, flat and unmotivated only responding with grunts when instructed to help with something or asked a question.

That night as they slept near the fire Julia pulled Geralt into her arms, at the contact she felt him stiffen, then snuggle deeper. The only things she could do was validate his feelings and so as she stroked his hair and rubbed his back she said "its ok to feel tired and overwhelmed after what you experienced Geralt. I'm here when you want to talk and if you don't that's ok too." Her arms held him close and for the first time that day she felt him respond by squeezing her back.            

The three travelers made their way quietly back to Wolnosci, and to the estate. Each day travelling as far as the horses could cope with the loads they pulled and then setting up camp for the night. They avoided villages and kept to the forests. Each day Geralt began to feel a little more ok, he still didn't want to talk much the images and memories that he had relived that day burned his mind. He had to work hard to not let them overtake his daydreams. His nights were a different story, once he was snuggled into Julia's arms her familiar scent and the familiar peace, he associated with her touch helped him sleep. It was for this reason that on their last night before arriving home he decided to open up with both Julia and Vesemir. He needed to talk about it before arriving home, he wanted to leave it here in the forest.

The night air was cooling and they were sitting around the fire. Julia had for the last few nights started to worry that Geralt would not come out of this experience unharmed. He seemed lost most days and uninterested in any passion. She made a point of kissing him good morning which he did not reciprocate and at night he would burrow into her arms but again there was no affection it was more of a lifeline he seemed to be grabbing onto. A small fear had begun to plant itself in the back of her mind that he would retreat back into his stoic self. The image of the White wolf, The Witcher that he had for 70 plus years inhabited. All she could do was wait, all she could do was pray, all she could do was continue to show him he was loved.

Julia sat playing with her food, her appetite lost when she heard Geralt clear his voice. Both she and Vesemir looked to the quiet man. His eyes unsure as he looked to Julia and said "I need to talk this out before we get home. I don't want it to follow me there, tainting the place I now associate with so much joy." Tears welled up in his eyes as Julia put an arm around his waist. Vesemir moved closer to his other side placing a hand on his shoulder speaking with concern "you do what you need to Geralt, you know we have shared similar experiences but we all feel it in a different way."

Geralt felt both his Father mentor's and his wife's care and love giving him the strength so share his burden. "I know you went through this Vesemir, every day they took me into that room I expected to die. The pain was so intense, the other boys screams and then silence, I had buried it all until I walked into that room. Each day they took me back and each night I survived when the others didn't, I should have died too, they were my friends, my brothers." He felt so guilty that he had survived. Geralt hung his head, the weight of his guilt and pain overwhelming him. He could feel Julia, her love, her peace as she continued to hold him. Then she spoke "Geralt, what you are feeling is real. They were your family and you were given no time to grieve them. I can't explain how but I saw you, I saw the pain you were in. I heard the screams and cry's of the other boys. You have every right to feel how you do. But you survived, and I am grateful every day that you did"

Vesemir echoed her words "I hated watching the boys die, I hated seeing them and you go through trial after trial. We were told it was the lesser evil, told that you would be the ultimate Witcher. The only good thing that came of the ran sacking of Kear Morhen was that they could no longer create more of us. It was done. But son, no matter how you see what happened I am glad that you survived. You, Eskel, Lambert and Cohen are my family and have bought so much joy to my life. I can imagine some of what you feel but not all. I am also grateful you survived"

Geralt heard the compassion, and love coming from his family. He knew it to be true. He knew that when he arrived home tomorrow he would be able to forgive Visenna. To be able to love her as a mother. His greatest concern now was could he forgive himself, for surviving, for living when the others had not. Shutting his eyes he focused on the calming presence of both Julia and Vesemir. Thinking of his family back at the estate, Ciri, Tobias, Renee and the children, Yennefer and Jaskier. The picture enveloped him and his heart as he saw that they were there because of him and he would fight for them. He would forgive himself because of them. Opening his eyes he looked at Vesemir seeing truly for the first time that he was his father. He reached out and hugged him.

Julia held her breath as she watched Geralt hugging Vesemir. Her heart was so full of grief for what this man had been through, but if was also full of love for him. She watched as Geralt released Vesemir and then turned to her. She could see the depth of pain but also a clear acceptance of who he was showing in them now. A confidence that had been missing since the first day she met him. He smiled and lifted his hand to cup her cheek. A small smile lifted the corners of his lips as he said "My beloved, I love you so much." With that he drew her in and kissed her gently but with every promise of many more to come.

The next evening the weary travelers arrived back to the estate. They had not sent word ahead, so it was a surprised household that greeted them. Ciri was as always overjoyed and greeted Geralt first with a big hug. Her presence bringing a completeness to Geralt's heart as the weight of the last few days completely fell off his shoulders. Ruth and Hannah set about preparing their rooms and Nessie set out a simple but filling meal for them all before they headed to their chambers. There was one thing that Geralt needed to do before heading in for the night. Standing at their chamber door he bent down and kissed Julia "I'll be back soon, I just really need to do this before I go to sleep." Smiling back at her husband Julia squeezed his hand and said "Its ok, I'll be here" she reached up and kissed him gently on the lips and then turned into the room.

Geralt stood at the door and knocked. The door cracked open and light from the room spilled into the corridor as Visenna looked at him surprise on her face. He smiled at her, seeing her standing before him. Her red hair braided ready for sleep, a gentle smile broke across her face when she saw it was him. Geralt did what he had wanted to do since last night as he stepped forward and engulfed his mother in his arms. A squeak of surprised from Visenna made him chuckle as he buried his face in the crook of her neck not as a lover would have but as a child would. He held her like that for some time as she began to reciprocate the hug. Eventually he pulled back and he saw the same unshed tears in his eyes reflected in hers. "Mum, I forgive you, and I want you to know I love you." At that Visenna broke down in his arms his words breaking through her years of grief and hurt, replaced now with the love of her son.

Julia knew when Geralt entered the bathroom, even though her eyes were closed as she soaked in the bath. For one she could smell his stench of horse and days of travel a mile off but she also felt his presence so strongly that she knew she would always be able to sense him. She chuckled as she heard him discard his garment and walk to the bath. She felt his breath on her ear sending a shiver through her body "Is there room in this bath for a weary tired traveler?" grateful she had already washed her hair and was just relaxing now she opened her eyes to his and said with a smirk "yes, but you forgot smelly too"

Laughing at her quip she was relived and happy to see a spark of peace and joy in his eyes. Sitting up she made room for him to sit in front of her as he stepped into the tub. Pouring water over his head she then began to shampoo his hair. He groaned in pleasure as she massaged his scalp cleaning away the grime and tension from the last few days. She loved that sound, it was reserved for her touch, for her ears only a reciprocation of her love. She continued to clean and massage the days of dirt from his hair and skin leaving him like melted putty in her hands.

As he enjoyed her ministrations he began sniffing at the air, "What is that smell" he groaned and not the kind that she was previously enjoying. "honey and chamomile" she said with a smile, "Jaskier gave me the bottle that he used on you for your wedding preparations" he hummed and then said with a huff "That boy needs to find a more manly scented option." Laughing at his gripe Julia dumped more water over his head to wash the soap from his hair "Maybe we should find a horse scented one, would that suit you better" chuckling Geralt turned over his eyes sparkling with mirth "now that's the best idea you have come up with yet wife. Why don't you put that down so I can show you how much I like the idea" putting down the soap quickly Julia wrapped her arms around her husbands neck and they kissed, her last thought before she couldn't think anymore was "Its so good to be home"

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It had been a few weeks since they had returned, Geralt and Julia had settled into a familiar routine and were enjoying life at the estate. Tonight, was a special evening though as the whole family was here to celebrate the naming of Tobias and Renee's twins. They had spared no extravagance for this evening, hiring minstrels plus of course Jaskier who had managed to make himself at home in the estate as the permanent nanny and singer for the twins. In fact, it was impossible to put them down to sleep without his voice carrying on the wind. Nessie had made a menu fit for a king and queen for the twins although only their mother carried their food option for the present.

The hall had been decorated with bright coloured material wrapping the columns and tables. Reminiscent of the very last party Wilfred had shared with her. She was glad he was represented here tonight as a part of this joyous occasion. Right now, she was lounging in her favourite position with a strong muscular body behind hers as a pillow. Her Warrior, Her lover, Her best friend now with his arms around hers. She nestled deeper into his arms whilst enjoying the view before her. Yennefer was sitting with Ciri and Visenna and seemed to be engaged in a serious discussion until Ciri laughed brightening their faces, Vesemir was sitting back with a small smile on his face as Eskel, lambert and Cohen were debating the joys of having a good cook at their disposal.  

Her final joy was seeing Tobias and Renee holding their precious bundles in their arms, their Son Wilfred and their daughter Amelia. Her family made complete being surrounded by her servants enjoying the feast eating and celebrating with them. Geralt leant down and kissed her on the top of her hair whispering as he did "I Love you" with that Julia sighed a contented sigh her life now completed with family, friends and children. Looking up into the face of her greatest contentment his eyes meeting hers as she whispered back "I Love you too".

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[writing-mermaid]

Siren, part 2 : Concentrating my moves, I'm on a mission

Summary : Y/N is a mutant, a Siren, the last of her kind, with deadly dangerous powers and a hidden past. If most of the Avengers likes and get along with her, Steve doesn’t, and it’s getting worse when Y/N and Bucky become close. After all what can bring two broken souls together if it’s not a dark past.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings : Fight, mention of injuries and blood. 

Word Count : 1 643

Square Filled : @buckybarnesbingo : Free square

Author’s note : Second part, I hope you guys will still like it. Thanks for the few responses I had for first part and I hope this will not disappoint you. This story my entry for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan ‘s Little Darlin’s Mystery AU Challenge, the prompt I chose is Siren AU. I also made a library blog in case the tags don’t work, so feel free to follow @writing-mermaids-library and to turn the notifications to know when I post something new here. Don’t forget that feedback is appreciated and really important.

Song of the title : Bad Blood - Jess Glynne

Masterlist

Bucky Barnes Bingo masterlist

Siren masterlist

Buy me a ☕

A little more than an hour later, I make the plane land a few feet away from HYDRA's warehouse.

  “So, what's the plan ?”, Bucky asks, looking down at me.

“I don't really know”, I answer, tucking one of my blue strands, one of the results of my mutation, the only visible sign, behind my left ear. So, if you see a girl with Y/H/C hair scattered with blue hair, that's me. “Maybe we just get in, being careful that nobody sees us, take pictures and probably blow up whatever they're up to.”

“Sounds like a plan”, he answers, a half smile on his lips, pushing the button that opens the back of the Quinjet, before going outside, a gun in his hand.

  I grab my fight sticks, same kind as those as Natasha has, and follow him. It's a total wasteland. No sign of life except around the HYDRA facility. We silently move to the fence, once there, I take out of my belt a tiny scissor to cut it.

  “Lady's first”, Bucky whispers, holding it for me, and I lightly step through the opening I made.

  We slowly walk to one of the entries. Bucky slips behind one the guards and knocks him out, while I take care of the second guard, by poisoning him with my fingers with the sleeping poison I have in my body, just by wrapping my hand around his ankle. Well, I hope for him that it's the sleeping poison or in a few minutes, he’s going to be stone dead.

  “There are two locks for that door. They have to be open in sync.”

“And they need this”, I say, rising on my feet, with two opening cards in my hands.

“Well done, Siren”, he smirks at me.

“Please, don't call me that, Winter Soldier”, I answer, matching his facial expression.

  Siren, that’s the made-up name the Avengers, well Nat, gave me when I was recruited. And she’s right I’m a Siren, the literal definition, or almost. I literally can enchant men and women and kill them. I’m deadly dangerous, even if I look like an innocent and fragile thing, that’s why I have to take suppressors and why I don’t let anyone touch me. The only one that never were affected by my power were my parents and some members of my family, because we shared the same blood.

  “Ready ?”, he asks, and I nod, “one, two, three.”

  We slide the cards at the same time and the door opens. Bucky looks inside, before nodding towards me, a silent way to say that the pathway is clear. We both step inside and look around, Bucky with his assault gun between his hands, my glowing sticks in mine. We progress in the facility silently, trying to not get detected by HYDRA's henchmen. Bucky opens the path and I follow him, watching our back. We finally step into a huge room, full of alembics.

  “What the hell is that ?”, I hear Bucky whispering.

  We progress in the room, looking closer at the see-through containers. Some are full of a transparent liquid, the others of some kind of colored gaz.

  “I don't know”, I murmur back, “but I'm not really reassured by this.”

  A loud bang makes Bucky grab my arm and suddenly, I'm trapped between a wall and his toned, muscular body. I raise my head and my gaze crosses his bright blue eyes.

  “What...”

  He shushes me by putting a finger on his mouth, ordering me to stay silence. I hardly dare to breath.

  “Fuck, can't you be more careful with this ?”, a male voice yell.

“Sorry, it's heavier than I thought”, a second male voice answer. “Anyway, what's in that ? What's that gas ? Is it dangerous ?”

“I don't know, but look it's leaking, you might have unscrewed the plug”, the first one tells his comrade. “Seriously, we were just supposed to take this from point A to point B, but you had to drop it. Now put the cap back on and stop asking stupid question.”

  I breath heavily, afraid to be discovered, because, I'm less stealth than Bucky, when he's at least two or three times bigger than me. I can almost feel every muscles of his body against mine through my suit. Bucky must feel my panic because he takes one of my gloved hands in his, plunging his eyes into mine. The two HYDRA hands men finally leave, and he steps back.

  “It was a close call !”, he says.

“Yes, thanks.”

  I walk past him and try to see if something is written in front of the containers. I can hear Bucky sighing behind me.

  “This thing smells strange, don't you think ?”, he questions me.

“No, I don't think it smells weird”, I answer, trying to have a clue on what are the gas and liquid stocked here. “I don’t even smell anything, just HYDRA’s awful smell.”

  I continue to look around. There's no clue about anything. Suddenly, a pair of lips are attached to the nape of my neck.

  “What the hell are you doing Barnes ?!”

“You smell so good. You're intoxicating me”, he says, burying his nose in my hair.

“Let go of me”, I hiss, trying to unhook his arms that he snaked around me.

“Come on”, he adds, “I want it and I know you do too”, he slide his left hand to my arm in order to lift my sleeve to touch my skin.

“Stop it !”, I clench my teeth, knowing that I can’t get rid of the man who at least weight three or four times my own weight.

“You’re driving me crazy, that smell, of yours, I can’t resist it.”

  And it clicks in my head, the last time I heard this was before I had suppressors, before those who worked, a scientist said those exact words to me, and everything his clear. That gas is made of either my blood, either my cells. This has exactly the same power as I do, the one that makes everyone uncontrollably attracted to me. I try to make up a plan to get rid of Bucky without hurting, or worst, kill him. The dots of my brain connect quickly with an idea.

  “Actually”, I tell him, turning in his arms, “I think you have read my mind and you and I can have a little fun, don’t you think ?”, I wink at him seductively, sliding my hands on his strong arms. “So first, why don’t you kiss me”, I whisper, approaching my face to his, my lips grazing his.

  My left hand stays on his right arm while my left hand finds its way on the back of his neck. He leans towards me and I push a little on his nape to force him to lock his mouth to mine. His lips are soft against mine and I’m surprised about this, I never thought that Bucky Barnes would have such soft lips. His lips are moving against mine and as I did for the HYDRA hand man, I concentrate to make him sleep, or Steve Rogers will have one more reason to hate me. Well, I think that the fact that I put his best friend to sleep by a kiss during a mission might be one too. After a few seconds, I feel him stumble towards my body. I try my best to catch him before he falls flat on his face.

  “Sorry Barnes”, I murmur, “but you didn’t give me a choice.”

I manage to drag him behind one of the alembics, praying that no one will find him or that he will wake up too soon and try to jump on me again. I pull out of my pouches a few bombs and their detonators. I start to place them around the tanks, moving as fast as I can and program them. Five minutes should be enough for me to pull Bucky outside and go back to the Quinjet.

  “Ok, now let’s take care of you 1940’s man”, I state, turning to where I left Bucky before setting my bombs.

  I grab his metal arm and start to haul him to the Quinjet. He is heavy and I do this task as fast and as quietly as I can. I finally manage to go back to the fence and push the soldier through it. I take a look at the device connected to the bombs’ detonators, I have a few seconds now before the bombs explode. I go back to my burden and pull him again to the jet. I don’t see on the way back the two men we knocked out when we arrived, and to be honest, I don’t really have time to think about it. I don’t even reach the jet’s door when the warehouse explodes throwing me a few meters away from Bucky’s sleeping form. I land badly on my right hand felling it twist under my weight, and blood flowing from my left hand. Maybe I shouldn’t have put so many explosive blocs, but I wanted to be sure that everything would be destroyed. I can’t straggle, I have to put Bucky in the jet and leave that place before HYDRA’s men come after us. I go back on my feet and manage, clenching my teeth because of the pain, to pull the Winter Soldier again, the blood of my hand drenching his sleeve. I open the jet’s door with the button on my belt, bless Tony for that, and pull a little more my sleeping partner. I abandon him on the ramp, heavily panting while the door closes. I can’t even breathe for a second because I know that we have to leave now. I take back my place behind the commands and take off.

Taglist :

@the-geeky-engineer, @feelmyroarrrr, @winterschild999, @realgreglestrade, @hellomissmabel, @mandy19875, @howlingbarnes, @belleetlabeast, @theashhole, @sebbytrash, @crazychick010, @bionic-buckyb, @callamint, @just-another-fangirl777, @learisa, @hello-sweetie-get-the-salt, @mokacoconut, @marvelbase001-blog, @thefiregypsy, @snowyseba, @theycallmebucky, @buckysberrie, @speakcroissant, @fangirlwithasweettooth, @tequilavet, @iamwarrenspeace, @melconnor2007, @jamesbarnesappreciationclub, @mrshopkirk, @poealsobucky, @maiden-of-gondor, @jurassicbarnes, @abovethesmokestacks, @thisismysecrethappyplace, @arawynn, @sebbys-girl, @captainrogerss, @murdocksmartinis, @supersoldierslover, @totallynotashieldagent, @crazy-little-thing-called-buck, @4theluvofall, @supernaturaldean67, @prettyyoungtragedy, @papi-chulo-bucky, @just-a-kj-blog, @lenavonschweetz,  @forever-graphically-frozen,  @buckysglow, @winterscldicr, @whothehellisbella, @bethanystan​, @asirenscalling​, @after-avenging-hours​, @winchester-with-wings​, @angryschnauzer​,  @callingmrsbarnes​, @suz-123​, @writingruna​, @sugardaddytonystark​, @angelicthor​, @thatawkwardtinyperson​, @themistsofmyavalon​, @redgillan​, @loricameback​, @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​, @farfromjustordinary​, @you-and-buckyb​, @bucky-made-me-do-it​, @lovelykhaleesiii​, @newmooneyfanfiction​, @lovely-geek​, @fanfictionjunkie1112​, @thefanficfaerie​, @littlemarvelfics​, @cordytriestowrite​, @firefly-in-darkness​, @caplanreads​, @my-emotional-self​, @searchingforbuckyfavs​, @buckybabybaby​, @i-alyssa​,

[freudensteins-monster]

I Need a Hero! 

Following on from Ooh! Barracuda!

Despite what Darcy had promised, their third date had ended with them still fully clothed, kissing goodbye on the street outside the restaurant they were supposed to be dining at, all because some asshat let mutated wannabe velociraptors escape from a lab in Nova Scotia.

And though they both claimed to want a do-over, culminating in the stereotypical post-third date activities, that first interrupted date was the start of a holding pattern.

They made reservations at another nice restaurant and Bucky walked Darcy to her room at the tower. They made out against the door – the inside of the door, as the hallway had hears, and high resolution cameras – but then Bucky cut it short claiming he had an early training session at the upstate facility in the morning.

Okay, thought Darcy. Except she learnt later on that he had volunteered for it the morning of their date.

The following weekend JARVIS found them an old school dance hall and the pair got dressed up in their 1940’s finest and went out dancing. Bucky walked her to her door again, and again cut their goodbye kiss short claiming tiredness because of the training upstate, and the travel, and the dancing.

Fine. Except Steve had mentioned two days later that Bucky had been putting extra sessions in at the tower gym – including the night of their dance hall date.

Darcy invited him around for a home cooked meal and suggested they watch something from Bucky’s “must see movies of the last 100 years” list. She instigated a little Netflix and Chill action, only for Bucky to put the brakes on claiming he wanted to see how the movie ended.

Really? It’s not like they couldn’t have paused the damn thing, Darcy would grumble to Jane later.

For their next date she pulled out the big guns: a slinky, sleeveless, little black dress that showed even more skin than the blue-grey number that had prompted Bucky to ask her out. When she opened the door Bucky’s knees almost buckled at the sight of her (or the girls) and Darcy thought she was on to a winner. She was flirty and affectionate on the way down to the lobby, and Bucky seemed to be reciprocating, but of course, their luck being what it was, the second he opened the car door for her his phone rang with an emergency Assemble.

Fair enough. He couldn’t fake an Assemble, but he didn’t have to look so damn relieved about it.

The mission took three days and when Bucky returned Darcy was caught in the middle of Jane’s latest breakthrough, so it ended up being a full week after their last failed date before they could reschedule. This also gave Darcy plenty of time to plan a course of action to address the elephant in the room, which basically boiled down to “talk about it like mature adults in an adult relationship”.

“This suuuucks,” Darcy groaned to her empty apartment as she waited for Bucky to knock on her door.  Thankfully she didn’t have to wait too long; a minute later and she would have chickened out.

“Hey doll,” he greeted her with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. “I missed you like crazy this week.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a crazy week,” she joked lamely, as Bucky made himself comfortable on her couch.

“Did you have anything in particular in mind tonight? I was thinking we could try that Caribbean ramen place Tony was going on about and maybe start one of those Star Wars trilogies everyone seems to love. Sam wants to watch them at the next team movie night, but you know he and Clint will just talk over them and it’ll just ruin my first viewing.”

“Speaking of firsts,” Darcy interjected, grasping at any excuse to get the crappy portion of their evening over with. “Do you not want to have sex with me?” Bucky balked and couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes. Darcy cursed herself for having the subtlety of Thor’s hammer, but sat as close to him as she dared and powered on. “Considering how you were looking at me the day you asked me out, I’m going to go out on a limb and say you find me attractive, but you keep pulling away from me when things get hot and heavy, and I know you’ve been making up excuses so you can cut out early. So… what is it? Why are you embarrassed to tell me no? Is it a religious thing – do you not want to have sex before marriage? A medical thing? Do you not want to have sex at all, or just not right now? Whatever it is, I just need you talk to me about it and tell me where you’re head’s at so I can adjust my expectations accordingly, okay? Because right now I feel like an asshole for trying to move us in a direction that you’re clearly not comfortable with.”

It took Bucky a minute to reply, his mouth opening and closing as he tried and failed to find the right words, but eventually he turned those beautiful stormy eyes of his in her direction and took one of her hands in his.

“First off, of course I find you attractive. When it comes to brains and beauty I think you leave Hedy Lamarr in the dust,” he assured her with a smirk. “And don’t go twistin’ yourself up thinkin’ I only want you when you’re wearing one of those maneater ensembles of yours. Done up and dressed down, soft and sexy; I like the whole package, sweetheart.” Darcy couldn’t help but blush. “And I do want to have sex with you…”

“But…”

Bucky sighed and squeezed her hand just a little bit tighter. “But… Nobody but doctors have seen me without my shirt on since I came back to myself, and I can’t stop worrying about what you’ll think.”

“About?”

“All this,” he replied with vague gesture.

“Your arm?”

“You gotta remember that I got the knock off version of the serum; I ain’t like Steve,” he added, anxiously rubbing his shoulder. “I might heal fast but my scars don’t fade like his do. At least, the ones Hydra gave me didn’t. It’s not pretty, and I just don’t want to see you pretending like they don’t upset you.”

“Of course they upset me, Bucky. But only because I wanna tase every Hydra goon in the balls for what they did to you. Seeing your scars isn’t going to make me want you less. Solid muscle and solid metal, cocky and self-conscious; I like the whole package, Sergeant Barnes,” she teased.

“Oh, yeah?” he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Ugh, dude. Don’t make me fall on my sword.”

“Huh?”

“JARVIS, can you play my favourite fanvid?” she asked the ceiling with a sigh.

 “Of course, Miss Lewis.”

“What are we watching?”

“Just… watch,” Darcy cringed as she shushed him. “And try not to hate me or, like, run screaming from the room in search of a restraining order.”

 🎶 Where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods 🎶

Bucky knew this song. He heard it every now and then when he was passing by Jane’s lab on the way to or from Tony’s, but it would always cut out when he got close. He’d asked Darcy about it once and she claimed it was her ringtone. Now that he thought back on it she had definitely been lying but he’d been too distracted by her bashful smile to notice it. He turned his attention to the television fixed to Darcy’s living room wall and as the song continued dozens of hastily edited together video clips were thrown up on the screen. Video clips of him. There were paparazzo footage of him and some of the team leaving a bar in DC after they’d gone out for drinks on Sam’s birthday, some video of him lifting weights in the gym for that Avengers Tower behind-the-scenes thing that Pepper had organized, though it was slightly pixelated as the editor tried to zoom in on his arms. There was even news footage from his missions with the Avengers, and a few of his missions against them.

“Is that… is that the Winter Soldier in Germany?”

“Um… yes?” Darcy winced.

“People like that – you like that?” he asked incredulously.

“I know it’s awful of me, and you have every right to hate me for making light of something that is obviously so awful, but seriously dude, you were built like a friggin tank! I don’t know what you were eating when you were hiding out in Romania, but damn!”

After a few more minutes of crippling awkwardness Darcy finally asked JARVIS to cut the feed.

“So…

“So… I hear this song playing in your lab all the time. Just how often have you watched this thing?”

“I plead the fifth,” Darcy blushed.

“JARVIS, how many times has Darcy watched this video?”

“Don’t answer that!”

 “This is Miss Lewis’s 57th viewing of this particular Youtube video.”

Bucky looked rather pleased with himself. “Fifty-seven…”

“Okay, listen, I may have left it playing on loop one afternoon while I cleaned my apartment. I have not sat here and watched it fifty-seven times.”

“I can remember at least four separate instances where I’ve walked past your lab and interrupted this song.”

“So? That’s just four times.”

 “Miss Lewis also asks me to loop her into gym’s security footage whenever you and one of your teammates are sparring.”

“JARVIS? What the hell?” Darcy screeched as Bucky doubled over with laughter.

 “I apologise, Miss Lewis. I just thought Sergeant Barnes would appreciate having all the evidence at his disposal.”

“Go away, JARVIS.” Darcy sighed and tried not to combust from blushing as Bucky chuckled at her embarrassment. “Okay, fine. As you can see from Exhibits A through to like friggin J: I find you stupidly attractive. So, you don’t have to worry about me being upset about your scars from an aesthetic point of view, because if it’s not painfully obviously, I want to see you naked. Real bad.”

Then it was Bucky’s turn to blush. “Can I kiss you, doll?”

“Please,” she begged with relieved smile. “Anything to stop me from embarrassing myself further.”

They started tentatively at first, but soon things started moving in a horizontal direction, with hands toying at the hems of shirts and brushing over zippers, and Bucky pulled back. Darcy did her damndest not to let her disappointment show and waited patiently for Bucky to tell her how he was feeling.

“Do you think we could, uh, relocate?” he asked, surprising her as he tilted his head towards her bedroom door. “I don’t know if I’ll want to… I mean, we can try…” he stammered.

“Whatever you’re okay with. Whatever you want,” Darcy promised.

Bucky swooped in for another kiss before lifting Darcy up off the couch in one smooth movement, smiling like an idiot as she giggled in his arms.

“JARVIS, play us out.”

🎶 Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat / It's gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet / I need a hero! 🎶  

[bucky-made-me-do-it]

Everything in one place.

I thought I’d put everything I wrote in one place to make life a little easier. I would also like to point out I’m no good at summaries, so I apologise. I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE PICS,CREDIT TO ORIGINAL OWNERS.

My tag list is open.

BUCKY BARNES

She’s my Bucky  Y/n is like a sister to Sharon Carter so naturally she will be maid of honour at her wedding. when she arrives she meets Bucky and they hit it off. will she let herself be happy or will her past continue to stop her? (fluff, angst, mention of parents deaths and implied smut?)

You said you would wait for me 1  \  2  Bucky was shipped off to war leaving his girl behind with the promise he would come back to her. what happens when he regains his memory of her after his HYDRA days? After all she did say she would wait for him. (Angst, fluff)

You’re not as different as you think  Bucky is in a relationship with Tony’s daughter. she is fed up with how her father treats him and tells him a story but who’s is it? (fluff, angst)

That wasn’t meant for you  When a Halloween prank goes wrong. Bucky makes it so right (fluff, implied smut?)

Take good care of my baby  Tony’s daughter comes home to find her boyfriend cheating and runs to the only man she knows she can trust, her father. under the protection of the avengers it comes as a surprise when one of them attack her? But is all as it seems? (angst, fluff, mentions of violence)

You called me, Doll  Y/n learns the hard way that a slip of the tongue can land you in a spot of bother. (fluff, implied smut)

Bomb disposal duty  when y/n gets a surprise! Daddy Bucky is left holding the baby, and something smells. (fluff)

I think he knows  Tony hears strange noises coming from his daughters room. When he investigates he finds something out, how will how will he take the news? (fluff)

Help needed  Y/n goes out leaving Bucky with their 3 month old son. They will be fine, what could go wrong? right? (fluff)

No secret  Bucky and Sam share a mutual hatred for each other, or do they? somethings are best kept a secret. (fluff)

All wrapped up  Bucky wants to propose on Christmas day but doesn’t know how. the team give him some ideas, it cant be that hard, right? (fluff)

Extraction needed  Girls night, drink, Bucky in the wrong place at the wrong time. (mentions of a bar creep, fluff)

That’s my sister  All tony wants is for his daughter to get on with peter. will everything work out? (angst, fluff, implied smut?)

She’s a bit, fiery  Y/n is a new member of the avengers and can control fire and she has the temper to match. poor Sam. (fluff)

Oh yeah, that’s great too  Bucky leaves for a mission and leaves an important not for y/n. what will she do with the information? (fluff)

Right on target   Bucky decides to train his girlfriend to shoot long distance but maybe she’s a bit better than he bargained for. (fluff)

The air between us  when a mission goes pear-shaped Bucky and y/n find themselves in a tight spot, will something in the air tests their friendship? (fluff)

Only with you  Bucky sees y/n with Sharon and Steve’s baby and it makes him think. (fluff)

Suit up  Bucky and Steve do everything together, so maybe they should be embarrassed together? (fluff)

Mission accomplished, soldier  Bucky left them behind to protect them, little did he know they needed protecting from him. (angst)

The trouble with two  (requested) Y/n and Bucky are close, like siblings. They escaped HYDRA together and are deadly to anyone they come up against, unless you are an avenger. (fluff)

Double trouble  When a mission goes wrong and she almost dies, y/n gets a telling off from two very unhappy super-soldiers but what happens when they hear her talking behind their backs? surely she should be punished, right? (hints of a poly-relationship, implied smut?)

I’m coming for you, mama 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5   when his wife and mother of his child is kidnapped, Bucky will stop at nothing to get her back. Even if it means losing himself. (angst, fluff)

Shower shock Bucky comes home after a mission and gets out of the shower with less than he went in with. (fluff)

Just like her mama  Y/n is in labour and in a panic, Bucky runs off and leaves her and she has to make her way to the medical bay on her own. things don’t go as smoothly as she hoped and unlucky for some, history likes to repeat itself. (fluff)

Looks like a Barnes, sassy like a stark Becky Barnes is the image of her father, Bucky Barnes. Her mother y/n stark starts to wonder if she will take after her with anything. However some have noticed she has a sass that has stark written all over it. (fluff)

Code red  Y/n goes on a mission and leaves their son with Bucky, Steve and Sam with one rule, not too much sugar. That’s not hard, is it? (fluff)

Not so secret agents  Bucky hires his, Steve’s and Sam’s sons for a secret mission, spy on their sisters. will the mission be a success? (fluff)

Heating issues  When you have something that needs to be fixed, maybe Bucky isn’t your best option. (fluff, implied smut?)

Ladies night Y/n has been working non-stop so and needs a break so Bucky asks the girls to arrange a night for the ladies. (fluff)

Holly’s game Bucky’s girlfriend comes between him and y/n but what happens when he sees her true colours? (angst, fluff)

Little bitty pretty one  Bucky comes home after a long mission to his favourite food, favourite girls and favourite song. what more could he need? (fluff)

Bring her back  y/n and Bucky’s relationship is at breaking point, their daughter goes through her first mutation. will it bring them together or will if finally break them for good?(angst, fluff)

A little tied up  the male avengers all go out for the night but come back without Bucky, what happens when his girlfriend finds out? (fluff)

Mud slide Bucky and y/n adopt a puppy and he gets in a spot of bother and y/n  tries to rescue him. things don’t quite go to plan. (fluff)

The ‘B’ word Bucky has to deal with the one word that no daddy is ever ready to hear, boyfriend. (fluff)

Dough dilemma  Y/n pops out and leaves a very clear instruction. Do not touch the bowl. For two super soldiers both over 100 years old, easy right? (fluff)

The wrong name Bucky loves y/n and she loves him but neither think they are worthy of the other using other women to fill the space he wants her to fill was going to backfire at some point, right? (fluff, slight angst and implied smut)

Dangling doll y/n sets out to scare Sam but ends up scaring Bucky instead. (fluff)

Our kind of love Bucky and y/n have a unique relationship what happens when someone tells him that she doesn’t deserve him? (fluff)

That went well y/n agrees to go on a double date with Sharon, Steve and Bucky as a favour to Sharon. will she find love herself? (fluff, implied smut)

Save Freddo this is my submission for Taw’s 4K writing challenge. PROMPT: “the food looks great but…there’s something much more delicious I’d like to eat right now.” (implied smut)

Love at first shot  Becky Barnes knows her family is very different to everyone else’s. When she asks a question about her parents relationship, Bucky takes it upon himself to tell her what she wants to hear. (fluff)

Help from above y/n is on an undercover mission when things go slightly sideways, will Bucky be there to help his girl? (fluff)

Hit me with your best shot   y/n and Bucky decide to play darts with a dangerous twist and it goes slightly wrong and they learn something important. (fluff)

She's my therapy Bucky and y/n are spending a lot of time together and Bucky starts skipping therapy and Steve gets worried and could have handled it better (fluff, angst, fluff)

One shot to change it all  This was a request. Bucky and y/n are sent on a mission together but they hate each other, or do they? (angst, fluff)

A love like theirs  Bucky never thought he would find love let alone grow old and have a family but he done it. they done it, together. (fluff)

Spider! Bucky knows that one day his little girl would have to leave home. maybe now though is sooner than he was expecting. (fluff)

On your marks Bucky and Steve take their kids to the park with Sam and decide to ignore the one thing they have been told not to, racing. (fluff)

Burning love Bucky plans a romantic night for y/n but it doesn’t go how he hoped, or does it? (fluff)

Watching the baby The avengers are gathered for a family barbecue and Bucky offers to watch the baby to give y/n a break but does he have another reason? (fluff) 

Look at me  Bucky and y/n sometimes just have to stop and remind the other to “look at me.” (fluff, angst, character death)

Wheel big surprise Y/n is about to be sent on her first mission but Bucky doesn’t like it, chaos ensues but maybe Bruce has the information to change things.

Bringing it home y/n told Bucky not to be late for dinner and to make sure he keeps his word he had to bring something home from work.

Stay with me y/n get upset about Steve going back to the forties. Bucky comforts her and makes an admission that may just cheer her up.

STEVE ROGERS

Everything as it should be 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6  Y/n and Steve have a history, cards were played on both sides. The trial of Bucky Barnes vs the state is happening, will things all work out or has too much happened to fix things? (lots of angst, fluff)

Irish blonde  Steve is getting his fiancée a drink when he catches the eye of a woman who’s thirsty for maybe a bit more than a drink? (fluff)

Double trouble  When a mission goes wrong and she almost dies, y/n gets a telling off from two very unhappy super-soldiers but what happens when they hear her talking behind their backs? surely she should be punished, right? (hints of a poly-relationship, implied smut?)

Fix it / Fix them / Fix us  Steve returns after the events of civil war to the girl he left behind. Can what’s broken be fixed or has too much happened? (angst, fluff, implied smut?)

When push comes to shove  when you have had a rough day and just want to sleep the last thing you need is a snoring super soldier (fluff)

Everyone wins  as an avenger he knows what its like to lose but she makes him feel like a winner. (fluff)

I see you, Mrs Rogers  Y/n and Steve have got so caught up in routine they  have forgotten about each other. Steve makes the move to change things. (implied smut, fluff)

Words of love everyday Steve writes y/n a note or poem telling her how much he loves her. Surely it cant be that hard to write one back? (fluff)

Hearing things Steve’s daughter askes him a very awkward question and he thinks he handled it ok, or did he? (fluff, implied smut?)

The shy, the lazy and the matchmaker Steve likes y/n but wont make a move so Bucky gives him a hand (fluff)

Paint, pain and proposals  Steve and Bucky arrange a day out for their girlfriends y/n and Nat and it doesn't go to plan but they soon learn great minds think alike (fluff)

Angels in distress If Mama and Daddy say “no” who do you call? Grandpa of course. (fluff)

Dancing in the street  y/n and Nat spend their day off with a movie and some retail therapy but get stuck in traffic on the way home. What better way to cure boredom than dancing, right? (fluff)

Something stupid Steve has an accident and while at home with y/n and the one person who you expect to show up does but how did he know? (fluff)

Label  Maybe buying Steve that label maker wasn't the smartest move. (fluff)

Dead to me y/n declares during her pregnancy, if it hits the floor it is no more. Trust Steve to be understanding and comforting, right? (fluff)

Now I can the fight is over, everything is as it should be and Steve finally gets the answe to a question he’s asked a lot.

Shots y/n likes shots, alcoholic or otherwise. Bucky walks in at the wrong time and maybe on the receiving end of the otherwise.

SAM WILSON

I’m just the water boy  Bucky, Steve and Sam help Sam’s old army partners sister out of a tight spot. (fluff)

At last  Y/n goes on yet another failed date. will Sam finally get his act together and tell her how he feels? (fluff)

Flying without pants Sam finally gets his girlfriend to agree to fly with him. while she was worrying about her safety she should have been worrying about something else. (fluff)

Battle of the birds Where would y/n be without Sam to save the day and protect her from things in the night. (fluff)

OTHER MARVEL CHARACTERS

My best avenger  y/n comforts Thor while he is having a hard time and she tells him what he needs to hear, but is everything as it seems? (fluff, implied smut?)

Kitty when nobody can calm the hulk, y/n to the rescue. (fluff)

Not that kind of Banner  Tony introduces Thor to some music, Thor makes a BIG mistake. (fluff)

I loved her first   Tony watches as his daughter dances with her new husband and remembers when she was a child and it was just him and her. Based on the song I LOVED HER FIRST BY HEARTLAND. (fluff, angst)

Daddy dance with me  Kind of a follow up to I LOVED HER FIRST but can be read on its own. Tony and y/n have their father daughter dance at her wedding and she reassures him that she will always need her daddy. Based on the song DADDY DANCE WITH ME BY KRYSTAL KEITH. (fluff)

Lost  Y/n, Sam, Steve and Bucky end up driving back from a mission, things take a bad turn and y/ns gets upset, leaving the boys to make it up to her. (fluff)

On the case y/n stark and peter parker get bored during the school holiday and decide to spend some of Tony’s money to amuse themselves. what will he think? (fluff)

They are family The team get stuck in a storm on the way back from a mission and y/n takes them to her parents home and introduces earths mightiest heroes to her family. (fluff)

TAGS:

@unicorns-and-fairy-dust  @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @shayla-markele @dottirose @shakzer00 @purplekitten30 @ek823 @shieldgirl95 @yoyolovesbucky @teresaoliva20 @coffeebooksandfandom @sebstanfanma  @geeksareunique @breezy1415 @fairyxxfighter @rangotangomango @callmebucky-doll @kapolisradomthoughts @pjanina13 @lionheo04 @bitchsike1 @sweetchaosturtle

[okimargarvez]

METEOROLOGY- Snow

Original title: Meteorology.

Prompt: climatic metaphors, phases of love.

Warning: none.

Genre: drama, romantic, comedy, angst, family, friendship.

Characters: Luke Alvez, Penelope Garcia, BAU team, Phil (Luke’s partner), Phil’s wife, Roxy, Derek Morgan.

Pairing: Garvez, Phil x Lucille.

Note: Multichapter.

Legend: 💏😘😈👓🔦🐶❗👨‍👩‍👧‍👦💍🎈.

Song mentioned: Via con me, Paolo Conte.

Meteorology- Masterlist

MY OTHER GARVEZ STORIES

This story is over! 😊 I hope that you liked it!

SNOW

The snow has five main features. It's white. So, it's a poem. A poetry of great purity. It freezes the nature and protects it. So, it's a paint. The most delicate paint of winter. It constantly transforms. So, it's a calligraphy. [...] It's slippery. So, it's a dance. [...] It mutates into water. So, it's music. In spring it turns rivers and streams in the symphonies of white notes. (Maxence Fermine)

 When he saw you, asleep in an uncomfortable position on the couch, he believed that you were a hallucination. He had to approach and touch you, to convince himself that it was not his mind played tricks on him. But at the exact moment when he touched you, you immediately awakened. What were you doing here? Oh, yes, you had decided to wait for him to return from the case in Nebraska. One of the first things you did was come in with his account to find out where he was. All data received were in fact stored on the tablet automatically in the computer of the oracle of the BAU (aka you) and you didn't take long to figure out that your entire system, your babies were back in the hands of Kevin.

Hack it was a breeze. But this time you had left no trace, so he hadn't noticed that the legal owner had returned. You had followed all developments until they given at your ex the information that the unsub had been taken. Probably it was the awareness of knowing him was safe, already on the jet, to give yourself permission to close your eyes for a few minutes ... and collapse into nothing.

-Penelope!- he exclaimed when was sure that you were really here. He didn't ask you what the hell you were doing there, without even warn him. He doesn't seem angry, just happy because you were back. He doesn’t given to you the time to talk, to begin to justify yourself, trying to explain the reasons behind your behavior. He was immediately knelt at your feet, taking your hands with his. -It's not true that I want children only for my mother. I want them from you, only you. I love you, baby, I love you so much and I'm astonished not to be dead without you. Although it's only been a few months. I don't want play tough guy, make you believe that I don't missed you a single moment, or however I don’t want to deny having felt a strange pleasure, I don't know whether it's the correct term, perhaps a relief whenever that I could not think about you, ‘cause I felt better ... but at once I felt guilty. If love is to suffer so, then I don't care, I'll feel pain until I up dead.- Did he have done such a long speech before, apart from the day that he had proposed you? Maybe for your wedding. It's more that's kind of your thing, to shoot in rapid fire sentences without it having necessarily a logical sense.

-Luke ... - you had try, but he hasn't given you even one second to speak.

-Please, let me finish. If you're reached the point of having to run away from your husband, it was partly my fault. I want to carry my own share of responsibility. I'm serious. I want to believe that if you have come back here, it's because you decided to give me another chance... - at this point you had to interrupt him necessarily, although sharply.

You've standing up. -Please Luke, stop! Stop being so sweet and understanding. It makes me feel even more guilty. But the worst is that I know it's not a tactic, you're really such. And I don't know if I deserve you, but you love me and until you love me I'll continue to use this privilege.- now it was he who attempted to overlap your thoughts with his own, but you have continued wholeheartedly. -I left because I realized that I desperately needed to find someone to vent the frustration of not being able to have a child, when I felt it was my right. And you were there, available. innocent and ready for sacrifice like a little lamb.- you shook your head. -But I couldn't allow it. I couldn't allow myself to dumping on you everything, besides knowing that you were hurting too, that it's impossible to have a baby alone, it takes two people... and since I saw your baby picture, yes, we were together only a few months, I did nothing but wait the moment when I would have given birth to something equally gorgeous.- he has smiled, but his eyes were even more watery of yours. -And when I realized I couldn't do it, I don't know, everything has lost interest in me. Even your love.- you have confessed, having decided to be totally, even brutally honest with him, because he could understands who was the woman he married, both in colorful shades and black streaks. -And I'll never forgive myself. Never. But I can't deny the past. I wouldn't even if I could. I can only say ... - you have hesitated. -I... I knew, even before escaping, there was a chance to think about adoption. But I was too selfish to take it in consideration.- you have pointed the finger at his chest. -Your altruism, the fact that you let me choose for themselves whether to continue in my error, or come to my senses, saved me. And if you want it too, I ... - this time he's brilliantly managed to stop you, placing his lips on yours. In that moment you realized it's been more than sixty days from the last time he did it.

And abstinence is being felt. The hands of both roam, explore, monitor and record the changes. Luke has lost weight. You can feel his ribs. It's you that have reduce him such this, but knowing it doesn't stopped you; what you've destroyed in him, you'll have to rebuilding it, indeed, you'll both it.

Clothes and various clothing was flying around the room, but before he could slip inside you, you have notice something. Another absence. -Roxy - you have whispered with a groan. And he has stopped.

-What?- but only with the brain. Hormones continue to push his body against yours.

-Where is she?- panic in your voice. -Please, tell me that nothing happened for my fault. I couldn't bear it, seriously. No, no, no! - and then you were already crying, stark naked, into chest of your husband, naked as you.

-In the first week and for few days she didn't eat.- he starts telling at you, confirming your suspicions. -But then she recovered, although she never ceased to wait you. Now it's with Jessica. I couldn't leave her alone, while I was away for a case. She can no longer bear to be alone, without someone to stay whit her.- relief rapidly replacing anguish. Your lungs hurt, when you have begun again to breathe. -Want us to go and pick her up? If you want, I call her and I could tell ...- you have shaken your head.

-No, I can wait until tomorrow morning. Where were we?- his precise thrusts wipe out every tear and every sign of cried that you no longer couldn't consume. For all time your fingers have been intertwined, almost you would fear that without this contact your act may seem like just a tangle of animal instincts too long repressed.

The only thing that have comes out from your lips is his name. -Luke.- for all occasions you declined to pronounce it, for every time you decided to deny him this small joy.

And this night you conceived your child.

 It wasn’t snowing that night when you have arrived late at work, because you have making love with her until you both collapse exhausted on the sheet, and then you get ready in a hurry. But when your colleagues have seen Penelope, everything was forgotten. More or less. And everything is back to normal, or nearly so.

Because your wife is not immediately returned to work, actually, you've taking few days too. And you have made a very important decision. Prentiss was the first to know. You've announced it when you went to her office to ask her permission to skip the next case. With your work you never know when you'll have time to think about it seriously and you both were certain that postponing, you would end up archive it forever. -Penelope and I decided to adopt child.- you can't describe even today the face of your boss while she has hearing you say such a thing.

But shock has quickly turned in joy. -I'm so happy for you! Have you said anything to the others?- you shook your head and you have go outside, so instantly you been proven wrong. JJ and Tara are embracing your woman and even Spencer seemed to have eyes a bit watery.

-I'm sorry.- she told you when was able to break free. You have put your arm around her shoulder while you were dating from the building.

-You haven't to be apologize for sharing our joy with the people that we truly love.- she has nodded and you remained silent all the way, clearly feeling the weight of what you'll were making.

Even during that week, you spent visiting websites and then real centers, talking to three thousand experts to get an impression of ​​what you have to expect, even in those days it's never snowed, not even an inch. After all it was late spring, and a snowfall would have seemed really bizarre.

But you had thought about snow several times. Because when she left you, your heart was covered with a thick layer of ice, but as soon as she returned everything was melted. Because her skin was milky as that particular state of the water, and in the country from which her great-grandparents had emigrated centuries before, snowfall is routine. Then, because she was, in all aspects, fluffy and soft as snow.

From the first step, you both have felt the anxiety of not being up to the task. Hundreds of other couples like you aspire to your own desire, plus you have no power of choice. It was social workers to process your data and combine them with those of the many children who needed a house and especially love. Of course, the fact that you worked for the FBI could be an incentive, but also play against you. You were forced often to stay away even weeks and she couldn't bring an innocent soul in her bunker, surrounded by gruesome images, video by the killers to preserve a memory and 911 calls by next victims. It was not an ideal climate to raise a child.

But you always knew that Penelope would be a fantastic mother. With her innate ability to put always others in first place, let alone with a fragile and vulnerable creature.

At best, the one on which you could have doubts were you. You didn't even know how you have to hold a baby! -But we don't adopt a newborn! - your wife complained once, rational any more than you are totally terrified.

But in the end who was right, was you. You did well to get scared and wonder if you'll ever been able to change a diaper or take a bath without boil the poor creature in your arms. Then month after the return of Penelope, exactly on the day when you were informed that you were considered eligible and therefore you could take the next step, she fainted right in the social worker's office, who took care of your request, and it took a while to bring her back to consciousness. The next morning, she vomited. -Maybe it was something that I ate... - it was her consideration, but you were not yet convinced. Sure, you didn't dared to hope ...

When she fainted a second time you took her to hospital immediately. And there they have said. -Congratulations, you're having a baby.- not even at that moment it was snowing.

One of the first things you did was go visit the grandparents that your child would never have known. -Mom, are you happy? I know you'll watch over them- Penelope certainly notice that you have spoken in the plural and she has shaken your hands stronger. -like you would have done if you was still here.- just after you have announced the great news to the team. And then, another roundup of hugs and pats on the back for you, so that in the evening your shoulder blades hurt. But was such a pleasurable pain!

Then you were forced to come to terms with reality and also to say it to Debra, the woman of the custodial system. There was no need to talk about it among yourselves. Even before you declared a willingness to continue to provide a family even to someone less fortunate, you know that she felt the same way. But Debra couldn't imagine it. -Oh, congratulations, Penelope. I'm happy for you guys. I haven't known you for so long, but it was enough to understand that you'll both be wonderful parents.- her tone, however, was not exactly cheerful, indeed, sad. An expression that you know very well. -What a pity. I was sure that Melody would be happy with you. Patience.- but you have no left  her to believe that last month had been just a waste of her time.

-No, you have not understood. We haven't changed idea.- you shook Penelope's hand. -We want to still adopt child; the only difference is that he or she will have a little brother to play with. It's a problem?- it took a lot more than some nice phrase, to convince her that this was your final decision.

 It was definitely worth it, you think, looking at the sleeping bodies on the couch in various positions.

A blond head, whose hair make you a little 'tickle, is lean on your chest; you don't move your arm since an hour, for fear of waking her. Although you should, because tomorrow is a day like any other (so fabulous for you) and they will have to go to school and you at work. Not far from your wife, and completely lying on her stomach, his face buried in her breasts, a small creature with dark hair as yours, just a little 'more curls, who has already turned one year old.

Curled up on the armchair there is your dog, not so young, and between its paws a wad of completely white fur, homage and further gift from heaven, which was found the day that Melody has entered officially part of your life.

White ... white as the snow that now yes, falls relentless and closed off the city for a while. But now the circulation is restored, so yes, tomorrow they will go to school and you both at work ...

But now ... now you don't necessarily think about it, you can still soak up a few minutes in the heat from the crackling wood stove and your family. In a moment you will start to bring the little monsters each in their beds, give a pat to the old lady and her playmate, and finally you'll lay your lips on Penelope's, lingering a bit too much, until she opens her eyes and she'll smiles, like a gift.

You don't know if perfection exists, but in this little picture away from all evil, you feel pretty close on this.

 There is a happy climate, at atmosphere despair, positive and negative, one serene and one stormy, a fertile climate and an unproductive, a peaceful and a polemic climate, a climate of confidence and one of certainty. (Luca Mercalli)

[clonerightsagenda]

I hit serious crunchtime with this one and broke a bunch of rules sticking pointless actions in the middle of the conversation because it was getting super dialog-spiney, but oh well.

tuesjade prompt: science

You're the first one up in the morning, or at least you think you are, until you enter the kitchen and find Jade passed out on the table. There are books stacked up on her left, and on her right her laptop's light blinks on and off slowly to show that it's in sleep mode. Her head rests on a pile of notecards, and someone has stuck a post-it note on her cheek. They drew a smiley face on it. That's kind of cute.

"Rise and shine," you say. Experience has taught you that Jade will sleep through nearly anything, but you think it'd be weird to sit down and have your coffee across from her while she's snoring. When she doesn't respond, you prod her on the shoulder. She shifts, mumbles something, and opens her eyes. "Roxy?"

"The one and only." You peel the post-it note off her cheek and stick it on your own. "You look like you got in a fight with a steamroller and won, but just barely."

Jade rubs her eyes and pulls a notecard out of her hair. "Is that a compliment?"

"Kinda. It means you look trashed, but you're alive, and that's what counts." You settle into a chair across from her. "Bad dreams?" That's what leads a lot of people to wander around the house until they fall asleep in silly places. You found Jake in the bathroom once.

"No, not this time." She squints at your face. You think she's only just noticing the post-it note. Insomniacs would shell out good money to sleep as hard as this girl does. "I was working on a project, and I guess I stayed up a little late."

"Late?" You look toward the window. A faint glow is already creeping in, illuminating the dishes left in the sink overnight. "It's six am. Hark, the rosy fingers of dawn through yonder window break, or whatever the fuck. Dawn’s balling up its rosy digits and punching through the window going wake up motherfuckers, it’s breakfast time."

"Six?" Jade groans and rests her face in her hands. "Last time I looked at the clock it was maybe two."

"You probably needed the rest.” You nab a clementine from the bowl of fruit left on the table. Jade and Kanaya leave it out with more optimism than real hope; most of your household has never eaten a balanced meal and isn’t going to start now. Still, fruit is good, even if the rind leaves your fingers tacky and sharp-smelling. “What are you working on? Something that's a big deal?"

"Kind of." She prods one of the book's spines so they're all lined up. "Rose wants some information on the genesis frog for her walkthrough. Kanaya sent me the DNA sequences for hers, and I've been comparing it to the readouts Dave and I were getting before our tadpole entered the forge. That should give me a baseline, although I guess we can't discount the possibility that the cancer impacted ours too in some way we haven't noticed yet."

You reach over and pick up a notecard. It's covered in scribbled letters - Gs, Ts, Cs, and As. "And you're doing this why?"

"I want to isolate which genes do what. We know what Karkat's cancer did to our game session, so we should be able to identify which sequences were responsible by looking at where the frogs don't match. From then on..." She waves a hand sleepily. "We'll have to be a little more creative."

"The Bilious Slick genome project.  Sounds ambitious.” You pop a segment of clementine into your mouth. “But I mean, we handled this already, didn't we? The frog is done. The universe is made. Patched, modded, and fit for habitation. We’re in it."

"Other people will have to play this game," Jade says patiently. "They could use a walkthrough on how to understand the frog's properties through the typical user interface."

"In case someone else needs to check to see if has an evil crazy Jack gene?"

"How to catch those problems before you finish the breeding session and doom the next set of players. That's the idea."

"Seems reasonable." Playing SBURB as designed sucked ass. You forget sometimes that people in this universe (besides Calliope, inevitably) will have the game come calling. It’s only fair to give them every edge you can.

She hides a yawn behind her hand. "I'm looking for the equivalent of Hox genes right now. Or at least I was, before I fell asleep. That seems like the best place to start."

"Hox genes?" The term sounds familiar, but it's been a while since you've boned up on the theory behind ectobiology.

She waves her hands vaguely. You used to make Drunk Science videos for your friends rambling about ectobiological settings and genetic mutations. Half-asleep Harley Science Hour is less amusing but more coherent. "The best way I can describe it is that they call the shots and tell the body how to build itself. A lot can change depending on whether they turn on or off or misfire. Considering how drastic the changes to our session were, I thought maybe some of those were affected. Although Kanaya didn’t mention the Genesis Frog missing any limbs…"

You nod. "That makes sense. I made a lot of mutant kitties, and a lot of the time it'd be like someone was reading the blueprint upside down or turned over.

Jade frowns. "That sounds a little horrifying."

"In retrospect, yeah, kinda.” You tug apart two more sections of clementine and squirt yourself in the eye. “I thought I was hot biology shit, but as you can see, I don't always know what the words mean. The ecto GUI was pretty drag and drop. Kinda like Spore, except you can't just make endless species that look like dicks."

"I've been having trouble myself. Not making things that look like dicks,” she adds. “That isn't one of my priorities."

"Shame."

"I'll leave that to your family." She reaches over and grabs an orange, peeling it absent-mindedly. According to John, they had to train her out of the habit of just biting right through the rind. Now that’s something you’d like to see. "It's just been hard figuring out what does what without running tests, and I can't keep making more universe frogs! I think I need to hook it up to some kind of simulator so I can see the results in real time."

"You'll figure it out. Aren't you like a science genius?"

She looks away and opens her laptop. "I was a prodigy when I was 12 and most people my age didn't know what physics was. Now I'm sixteen and probably behind a lot of public high school students. My grandpa's books were really out of date too. The human genome project wasn't even finished when he died. Statistical regression, you know? Outliers tend to get pulled back toward the mean."

"I think you're underselling yourself.” You shove the fruit bowl out of the way and lean forward over the table. “Let's see what you've got."

She taps her computer, and the screen lights up. The interface looks similar to some of your old lab tech. Some of the readout looks familiar too. Everyone knows what a DNA sequence looks like - they show up in movies enough. But underneath... "Are those sound waves?"

"That’s right!” She clicks on one of those sections, and it enlarges to fill the screen. “We didn't get all of the DNA sequences from cloning. Besides hunting frogs, we had to explore temples and ruins to find bits of music and then remix them. It was pretty fun, actually. I wish we’d been able to do my land quest in real time like we were supposed to."

"That sounds weird, but I guess Rose’s quest turned music into DNA too.” You tilt your head, trying to envision what these readouts must sound like. What is the music of the universe? Classical would be boring. You hope it’s punk. “SBURB must have a thing for composition.”

“It’s a good thing we all had some background in it. Or…” She hesitates. “The four of us did. What about you?”

“Dirk thought he could rap, but that’s about it.”

“That’s too bad. I really liked sending songs back and forth.” She smiles. “It was like having a conversation without using words.”

That does sound fun. Maybe the four of you would’ve been able to dodge some teen angst if you could’ve written screamers and sent them as attachments to each other. “Maybe you can teach me sometime!”

“I’m a little out of practice, but that could be fun. Remind me sometime. But for now…” She hits a few keys and zooms out to show more of the sequences on the screen. “We need to compose a whole universe. Want to help?”

“All true gamers make their own universe from scratch,” you say, and brush off your hands.

[fluorescentpipedream]

I’m reading the Witcher series for the first time and I keep getting plot bunnies for our tavern play...bear with me cause I’m not sure if this will actually work into anything or not but...

If we were to pick up where I left off with Geralt and Myah:

Plot bunny 1:

He takes the girl out riding far from the Keep and has her out for a few days rather than a few hours. He does agree to have someone go with them, and does actually tell Brom that he’ll be training her in the wilds rather than within the walls. Myah selects one of the battle maidens, Maeve, to go with them. She’s strong and a fighter in her own right, Geralt is reluctant at first but agrees. Someone of the Queen’s guard is supposed to be there, and since Norelia is home...he gives in to her wishes.

They return to Myah’s previous home and she shows him how she used to get around when her father wasn’t home, including fishing in a small creek less than a mile away and setting traps for rabbits. Because it’d already a shelter they stick close to the house but do spend a few nights in the wooded area close by.

He sets about training her in those woods, keeping an eye on her so she can’t get severely hurt but wants to see what she can do already. Balancing in wet rocks, she’s surprisingly agile. Though he’s also watching Maeve at this time, impressed by her speed and agility as well. Something about her gets his attention....

One evening after spear fishing leads to soaked clothes and a little bit of fun, the three of them are around a fire when Myah starts singing a song about him which prompts him to chuckle then grow sad. When Maeve asks why, he surprises himself by telling them where the song came from:

“Many years ago, I became indebted to a man from Arindel...long before it came to ruin, when the King was still but a distant thought...I saved him from the Grilacks...do you know what those are?”

“umm...adorably cute monsters that actually lure their prey in with their harmless appearance and pitiful cries. When the person falls for their trap, they swarm.”

Geralt nods, his brow furrowing. “I came across the man in the midst of a swarm and saved him from it. Grilacks fear fire more than anything else.”

“ good to know.”

“The man tried to repay me, I told him I had no interest in anything he could offer but still he tried. He had no money, bandits had seen to that. So I told him I would take that which he had, but did not yet know. Invoking a very old, seldom used law. And I wound up with Baradin from it...I called him Bard and in time he actually chose that as his profession. Most songs about me came from him.”

“Wow...”

M: Those songs are over 100 years old...

Geralt nods “Bard is celebrating his 95th birthday in a few moons...being around me and the elves have him an abnormally long life span...”

—

After a particularly rough training session where Maeve is having to soothe some injuries, though noticing she’s trying to hide tears, Geralt asks her why him to train her, she had people from the Keep already giving her that.

“My sister has a dragon...”

Geralt raises an eyebrow before she continues.

“Celeste will always have someone with her, but I’m not that blessed.” She holds her hand up and an ethereal butterfly rises from it, dancing for a moment before fading.

“Beautiful”

“But not useful...I could kill a man with what I know of herbs and elixirs but if one were to attack me, I couldn’t do much else than scream and beg him to stop.” Myah sighs, looking up at him.

“Brom and the Boar agreed to train me but they treat me more like a child that should be protected, not taught to protect herself...so I wanted someone else to teach me. You still seek to protect me, and I see that, but i slipped on the rocks earlier and all you did was laugh at my misfortune and tell me to do it again. Whenever I fall out of the trees you don’t make me stop, you make me do it again...”

“That’s why I wanted you out here...it’s easier to train for the unexpected if you’re in the element.”

“I can see how that would be true. You don’t coddle me”

“I never did with Norelia either. One of the reasons she and I have the relationship we do. I’ll never lie to her, but I don’t particularly spare her feelings either. Girls, especially ones your age, are far more powerful than people tend to give them credit for. You’ll fight tooth and claw to be seen as something other than a vessel or means to an end.” Myah scrunched up her face and he laughed.

“It’s weird hearing you laugh”

“Hmm”

——

Plot bunny 2: About a day’s ride from the Keep (after being gone for about a week) Geralt somehow gets knocked from his horse and bound to a post by a rather unsettled group of villagers, those who don’t agree with the rule of the Queen but aren’t really with the Resistance either. All they see is a “mutated beast” in the company of a child and another woman. Recognizing him as the White Wolf from one too many bard’s tales, they know Myah couldn’t possibly be his child and string him up, much to her and Maeve’s protests.

He takes the abuse from the people in stride, it’s not the first time and won’t be the last and he tries to tell the girls he will be fine, and to remain calm, the rabble can’t kill him. It’s not easy to kill a Witcher. In the middle of his whipping, Myah breaks from One man’s grip and lunges in front of him, catching the whip across her face which angers Geralt to no end but as her blood falls to the ground she suddenly conjures a shimmering arcane shield and demands the villagers allow them to leave. She’s really only able to conjure such strong magic briefly but it gives Maeve enough time to free his wrists before the shield fails and Myah collapses in his arms. She possesses magic stronger than even her mother had and they return to the castle, with her in front of Maeve and Geralt leading her mare behind him. He hands her to Brom and Dio who are waiting. Maeve tells them about the villagers, Brom takes the drained Myah into the Keep and before Geralt can react, the Boar punches him.

Geralt tries to assure them that he genuinely meant no harm to her and that she has powerful magic, beyond what has been seen of her in the training aspects, and she should be evaluated by the Queen’s warlock, Syrasta.

Plot bunny 3: 

Renshaw is with them because he is ALWAYS with Myah and has telepathically been telling Ulric where they are and exactly what they’re doing, to the point the dragon watches them sparing in the field near her previous home through the raven’s eyes. With Maeve there as well, Brom and the others are a little less anxious. While they train, he’s usually nearby, resting in a tree.

Once Myah gets the steps and coordination down to a rhythm and can better anticipate attacks, Geralt suggests she try to take both him and Maeve, though that doesn’t go as well as he had hoped. She can defend but misses chances that would kill her in a real fight.  

Plot bunny 4:

Maeve is a battle maiden for the Queen and one of the only ones that Geralt has not had his way with, either currently or in the few times he’s seen Norelia since she first became a conqueror. She is also, unbeknownst to even Geralt, a child of surprise after an incident some 20 years before involving a pregnant bar wench and some ruffians that tried to kill her and ended up knocking into Geralt prompting him to “deal’ with them. He was already in a tense spot at the time, job gone wrong, among other things. When he lashes back at the men he ends up killing the ones that were bothering the lady as well. With nothing else to offer, she gives him her word that the child will be his. He leaves without even acknowledging the debt, though ends up feeling odd for some time, eventually forgetting about it altogether.

Before returning to the Keep with the weakened child, Maeve insists that they stop so she can clean up his wounds. They’re starting to heal already but there’s still possibility for infection. As she’s mixing a salve, she trails her fingers over his bare skin, remarking on the scars that tell quite a story on his skin. In his amusement he tells her about a few of them.

“Everyone asks...they hear tales from bards about this and that.”

“And bards tales are flowery”

“Exactly, they leave out the politics of a situation for the flair and fanciful depictions of monster slaying”

She tells him she’s been with thr Queen’s company for some time, and that she remembers when he returned Norelia to the camp the first time.

“Everything I heard about you, I never expected to see that White Wolf so careful and...”

“Talkative”

“Well...they say you’re a man of very little words, who lets his swords speak for him. Give him your coin and he’ll slay your beast, whatever it is.”

“It’s never “whatever it is.” I do have things I won’t kill”

“For instance?”

“I’m not in the business of killing children, even possessed ones, and some maurading beasts are starving. I make other arrangements”

“What does that mean?”

Geralt stops for a moment and stares at the fire before looking back up at her suddenly. “Why am I so inclined to tell you anything? I get around you and I say more about my life than I do even to her” He motions to Myah asleep under her cloak. “Who are you?”

She tells him of how the she came into the Queen’s service and where she was from originally and the memory of the bar wench comes back. Though he made no formal request, the draw to be close to Maeve is strong and it bothers him a bit.

[blame-canada]

Quarter Rests: Clean

The CMV Mutation Pandemic swept across the globe so quickly, society as they knew it was doomed to fall. While the world came crashing down around them, Craig and Tweek tried their best to survive, and to love endlessly, in spite of it.

Hello friends! For the September 2017 South Park Drabble Bomb, I’ve decided to use all five prompts to write for the Halfway universe- which means everything here is canon to that fanfiction and its timeline! I hope you’ll tune in to catch a few little tidbits here and there about this universe I’ve lovingly crafted into my own. Link to the fic on AO3 here!

Chapter One: Clean

The sound of running water from the kitchen sink told Craig that Tweek had officially gone a step too far.

He had insisted on tidying up their home before they left, and though Craig failed to understand the point as it was unlikely they’d be returning, he’d allowed his husband this one wish, and finished packing away their clothes and valuables upstairs while he flitted about the first floor. The suitcases and duffel bags surrounding his feet overflowed with things, meaningless things that he’d toss if given the chance, but Tweek was a closeted hoarder. Once more Craig found himself cutting Tweek slack, because really, what harm could it do? If they could fit it in their four-door sedan well enough that they could drive the handful of hours to South Park without a problem, they could stand to pile on another bag or two. Besides, it wasn’t as if they were in some great hurry. Urgency was implied, of course, but there was no ominous cloud or storm siren forcing them to evacuate.

It was rather surreal, actually, the way things had played out. The movies always showed such chaos: traffic jams, people screaming, things on fire, entropy increasing. In reality, the threat of the virus was essentially silent, only evident in the news articles and by word of mouth. There were no screams in broken streets, or dumpster fires. People went cross-eyed, collapsed, lost their minds, but not in the manic way the zombie movies portrayed. Instead they went quiet, eerily similar to the blank, thoughtless face Tweek would occasionally make post-panic attack, and then they died, one by one, leaving houses empty and businesses understaffed. By the time people had realized the seriousness of the mutation, half the towns in Southern Asia were devoid of life. Then it kept going.

Craig saw a handful of his colleagues go home sick and never come back. He knew Tweek did too, and that he’d lost regulars at the cafe almost daily as it fell into full swing. Denver was collapsing in on itself, and the suburbs moving inward. Rumors of the squalor downtown directed Craig and Tweek not in but out, back to their families who they’d seen almost exclusively on holidays for years. They’d lived in this house for only two; not nearly long enough. Craig couldn’t help but feel cheated, by this damn pandemic, out of the picket fence life he and Tweek were carefully maintaining and growing in their suburban paradise. The sun still shone and the flowers still bloomed, but the people were dying, and it was time to go home.

Craig sat down at the edge of their bed and tuned in to the melody downstairs. Tweek was humming, occasionally singing, while the water pelted different dishes in different tones to harmonize with him. Tweek had a pretty voice, but it trembled, like falsetto in every note. Craig listened intently, until he decided that it had been too long, and Tweek had gotten too nervous.

He walked down the stairs with sad trepidation in his steps, shuffling down and closer to the deceivingly cheerful chirps that echoed off the emptied walls- they’d taken down all the best picture frames. He hovered just behind the door and breathed slowly, once in and once out, and stepped forward onto the white tile floor.

Tweek glanced back for only an instant, smiling at him to acknowledge his entrance, and turned back to the sink, finishing out his song quieter than before. Craig came up behind him, and in a well-practiced and comfortable motion, he slid his arms along his sudsy skin and gently took his husband’s hands, stopping his work. “Tweek,” he whispered into his ear, nuzzling his cheek into his soft hair, “they’ve already been through the dishwasher.”

Tweek stopped humming and the room went silent, only the idle sound of the refrigerator and tweeting of birds outside between them. “Well, I can’t be too sure, and y-you know,” he stumbled, speaking much too fast, “you know, I wouldn’t want to come home to a bunch of bugs and dirty dishes, and it’s not a bad thing to clean-”

“Tweek,” Craig murmured again, cupping his larger hands around Tweek’s long, knobby fingers, and he guided them to drop the plate in his grip into the basin. “Your hands.”

Tweek looked down at his bright red, splotchy skin, irritated hives that started at his wrists and wove up his hands in raised scratches and a few bloody scrapes on his knuckles. It was not the first time he had rubbed his hands raw. Cleaning was a nervous habit. Tweek was afraid.

“O-oh,” he stuttered, stretching and closing his hands into fists, and the small beads of blood that seeped from his marred knuckles ran pink with the soapy water covering and wrinkling his skin. “I just- I mean. You can’t be sure.”

“You know that’s not it.” Craig reached over to grab a paper towel and patted Tweek’s hands down carefully, barely dabbing at the sensitive areas he’d torn up. When they were sufficiently dry, he turned the faucet off, and took Tweek’s hands tightly in his own.

They didn’t speak for a while. Tweek leaned back into Craig’s chest, his head nestled naturally against his collarbone, and listened to his breaths and his heartbeat as they worked in tandem. Craig breathed in the smell of their shampoo, in love with the fact that his smelled the same, feeling his heart ache deeper with each beat at the same time. He pulled Tweek’s hands up and to his sides, and they held each other in that awkward position that felt right in the moment.

“The traffic will be thinned out in a few hours,” Craig said, and Tweek hummed in response, swaying with the motion Craig was slowly rocking him in. “We eating here before we go?”

“Are we gonna be okay? I mean, really?” Tweek asked suddenly, and Craig froze, tightening his grip on Tweek’s hands. He returned the squeeze and Craig inhaled as steadily as he could muster.

“I’m not sure,” Craig mumbled into his flaxen mess of hair, “but if we haven’t gotten sick yet, I think we’re immune.”

“So there is an immunity?”

“Mhmm.”

“I’m scared, Craig.” Tweek chose then to pull his hands out of Craig’s and whirl around on his feet, looking up at him with wide, fearful eyes. Craig loved those eyes, their warm honey and green tones, so full of life like this in the natural light of the setting sun.

He chose to do what he always did when Tweek looked at him like that; bring both hands up to cup his cheeks and plant a tender kiss in the middle of his forehead. His cheeks were soft under the pads of his thumbs, and he watched his blond and brown lashes flutter open upon separation. When their gazes connected, Craig gave him a wavering smile, and broke tradition by not reassuring him that everything was fine, but instead whispering, “Me too.”

[mothergayselle]

DAO Oneshot -- Sparring Practice

Rating: T Words: 2452 Summary: The Warden is having a tough night full of PTSD symptoms and Alistair helps her cope! Uplifting and empowering. A/N: For those with PTSD specifically <3

read on AO3

“Again. Please.”

Sweat slicked over Lyna’s face, her petite features amplified by the intensity of her focus. She was dressed in her battle armor, with the dark leather pressing into her wet body, conforming to her movements as she paced up and down a flat expanse of ground several meters away from the camp’s dying fire.

“Are you certain?” a lilting voice replied. The voice was smooth but tired, resembling the last cadences of a fading song than it did a regular melody. Zevran, with each gleaming dagger in hand, stood poised and as proud as ever, though the slackened lines around his eyes and mouth betrayed his words—exhaustion would soon overcome him.

Lyna stopped her pacing and paused, meeting Zevran’s gaze with unsympathetic fire in her eyes. She nodded.

A deep breath stole into the chest of the assassin and he hummed, momentarily acquiescing to the Brecilian’s natural scents of wood and pine. He tucked a few strands of stray hair behind his ears and swallowed, his hands flexing their grips on his blades as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, preparing himself.

“As you wish, Warden.”

Lyna frowned, and although she was poised, bristling with unbridled energy, she looked visibly tense, and her eyes suddenly dropped to her feet before reluctantly rising up again. “You don’t have to keep going,” she murmured. How could she expect him to? Doesn’t she ask enough of her companions?

But Zevran merely shrugged. “I wish to help, if I am able.”

A stab that did not come from a blade pierced Lyna’s heart.

“It’s all right, Zevran. I’ll take it from here.”

Lyna’s gaze flickered over to Alistair, who came striding towards them with a grim smile stuck on his mouth. He, like the two elves, was also adorned in his battle armor, and every movement of his body prompted shadowy glimmers of light that reflected off the campfire’s glow. Right then, he looked more like a spirit than he did a man—perhaps a spirit of valor, as his bronze eyes stayed trained on the discomfort of Lyna’s visage, which soon bloomed into an expression that hovered between wary and hopeful.

Zevran’s studious gaze shifted back and forth between the Warden and her towering lover. A few moments passed as Alistair pressed in closer to their proximity, and he eventually smiled, a fragile, pitying gesture. He gazed once more at Lyna and turned, heading back towards his tent with sluggish movements that further drained his body. He smoothly sheathed his daggers and was gone.

“Alistair,” Lyna said as he approached her. He did not extend a hand nor a physical gesture of comfort, but there was no denying the adoration in his eyes or the soft way they raptured her entire being with just mere moments of their hold. “I’m sorry if I’ve woken you, but… you should be resting. I’m okay.” She, still bursting with discomfort, clenched and unclenched her jaw as if she was physically commanding her body to relax only for it to disobey her seconds later.

Alistair swallowed, allowing his brows to narrow upon his forehead as he chose his words carefully. “I can’t sleep without you anymore,” he replied, a sheepish grin tempting his lips. “I want to help you.”

The forest around them buzzed with the sounds of wildlife, and the crackle of their campfire popped in the distance, intermittently punching up clusters of sparks and smoke at random intervals. Lyna tried not to let her gaze wander from the safety of Alistair’s face, and her breathing accelerated with the task of mentally warding away images that her tortured mind produced. “You always help, though.”

“Because I love you.” And Alistair said this such ease, as if the words “I love you” cost nothing for him to materialize—a gentle prayer in her name. He still made no move to touch her.

Another blow struck itself across the expanse of Lyna’s chest, pounding against her sternum and crunching upon the fleshy shape of her lungs. How special he was, her not-so-templar, the man who eagerly held her during the nightmares and then in other instances, refrained from laying even a fingertip upon her body. How completely intuitive he was, and how lucky Lyna was to have him. His existence was like a perpetual war to the brokenness of her existence; the more wonderful he was, the more painful it became for Lyna to accept him.

Unlike Alistair, no words rose to the cracked surface of her tongue, and Alistair remained wordless as he unsheathed the long blade at his belt.

The movement caused a quiet scraping noise to pierce the faux-serenity of the evening, and without hesitating, Lyna fastened her grip on the daggers she still clutched in her hands, slinking back several steps as to put distance between herself and the towering warrior in front of her. She was feline and smooth and suddenly transformed. The graveness which darkened her features dissipated into a mask of concentration, both tightening and loosening her face until all she saw was the body ahead of her and the familiar length of the sword it carried.

“Tell me when to start,” Alistair said in a near-whisper.

Now. Start now.

Lyna stiffened with dormant energy that begged to be release through her limbs. “Now. The pictures are coming back.” Her voice resembled not a whisper but a plea, as if wounds wrongly bled the words from her throat.

Well…better her throat than her mind.

And then Alistair attacked, his muscular frame flicking out with such speed that Lyna barely had time to parry the blow with her own blades. Acid flushed into her arms and torso and filled them with adrenaline that she could direct and manipulate, a purposeful, chemical reaction to combat—there was nothing insidiously emotional about a battle of this sort.

Lyna relished the strike and ground her heels in the dirt floor of the ground before shoving away from Alistair. She twirled, side-stepping away from his guard and slashed out at his side, gently grazing the metal of his armor before he was able to defend the counterattack.

She felt no remorse for the attack; Morrigan could repair that scrape later on.

Neither did Alistair pause or halt in his rhythm. His face, too, was a mask of calm determination, and his eyes—amplified by the small mountain of flame mere meters away from them—were narrowed, creating lines around them, as if they too were a product of intention. Though he did not carry his shield, Alistair physically vibrated with strength while he executed a barrage of quick strikes, stepping lightly on his feet and twisting out of Lyna’s guard as she moved likewise.

Each warrior moved with precision, and a certain familiarity leaked into their rhythmic cadences, revealing what was obviously the physicality of a routine performed a thousand times. They seemed to hold nothing back as they collided, one mass of fury and metal until sweat slicked over their skin and dripped down their faces. Alistair sprang backwards, out of reach, and held his sword in front of him, blocking his entire torso with the defending position.

His breath came out in gasps, though his voice was as clear as ever. “Enough?”

Lyna choked back a cough; her lungs felt shriveled from air deprivation, as if the acid in her body had eroded the function of the organs into dust. She paused for one half a moment, closing her eyes, and delved into herself to determine whether or not she was okay. Yet, horror flashed like lightning inside her mind, stirring a plethora of memories tainted by repulsion and shame, and the acid that rose inside her was nothing like adrenaline, and everything like poison.

The cough nearly escaped her throat and Lyna flinched, shrinking away from the clawed thoughts and their needle teeth. With her eyes shut, her limbs taut, and her breathing vanished, Alistair’s face grew alarmed, though like before, he did not move to touch her.

“Not enough?”

Eyes still closed, Lyna shook her head, her brown, rippled hair sticking to the wet on her neck and shoulders. “Not enough. They’re still there.” She made a noise of frustration that echoed gutturally at the back of her neck—somewhere between a hum and a groan of pain. “Please, let’s keep goin—”

Alistair was already there, leaping forward with one, powerful bound that closed the distance between them. Steel flashed before her, the dangerous edge of the blade driving itself deep into the body of her unease and calling her out to him once again. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Lyna was unconditionally grateful for this distraction, but the forefront of her injured mind could not do anything else but anticipate Alistair’s attack before it came. He was swift, though his size did hinder his ability to defend himself, and especially without his shield. Lyna battered away at him, slicing through the air with a string of flurries as though her daggers weighed nothing, and she broke into his guard time and time again, though Alistair was able to fight off her reach. She was quicker than he was and much smaller, allowing Lyna’s strikes to slip further past her companion’s defense and render his counters ineffective as she dodged them without falter.

This. This is what it took for Lyna to defend her own mind. When she was like this, loving touches and embraces would only make her worse. Encouragements would rotten her soul and prolonged inactivity brought about certain death to the sanity she was so cleverly able to hold on to.

In the beginning of their journey, Lyna had wondered if her companions thought her weak or disabled with her constant nightmares—nightmares that sometimes stole into the surface of her own consciousness while awake and crippled her. She also wondered if she was weak, a mutation that nature had left behind to perish, though she had done anything but. Her companions—her friends, however, had given no indication that they indeed believed her unfit for command. In fact, they had acted the opposite and trusted her directions with an implicit obedience, never questioning or doubting her judgment. Lyna never knew if that was commendable or foolish of them.

And Alistair…

Her beloved. He was there for her even more than the others, although there had been times when he’d acted impulsively and behaved as though affection was the cure to such illness, and Lyna had ripped herself away from him only to retreat within the quietest parts of herself. Lyna tried not blamed him. How was he to know how to be when even she could only guess?

Sparring seemed to be the only remedy for nights when Lyna’s mind was unescapable. The grating noise of metal on metal, of musical, focused breathing, of the ground giving way to the numerous parries and preemptives executed—this was a battle Lyna could win, and her companions routinely took turns training with her even though she exhausted them quickly, such was the situation with Zevran tonight. Never Alistair though; he was always there to resume where the last friend left off, and thankfully, after much coaxing on Lyna’s part, he almost held nothing back during these sessions, making him the most formidable opponent of them all.

Their gazes locked, flushing the rest of the world away. Lyna, with irises so much greener than his, ceased all of the defensive maneuvers she favored and gripped both daggers tightly. She clutched on to their hilts as she slashed the both of them towards Alistair with all of the strength she had left. When he deflected the blow with his own sword, Lyna beat down on his sword again and again and again, the slow, heavy collisions sounding off like cannon-fire in the shadowy hour of night. She could feel the power leaving her body with every swing and yet she continued to cleave away at the sight of metal before her, as if she were chopping wood instead of sparring, until sweat slipped down her neck beneath her armor and pooled there, collecting like puddles of physical exertion. And then she swung at him again.

The towering man she attacked soon became a swimming mirage of gold and darkness as her vision became increasingly blurred. But still she persisted, her arms aching, her lungs screaming, her head filling with the most mysterious kind of spell that sapped the insanity from her mind, clearing it away of the illness once again, which left her feeling sleepy. The absence of her sickness made her feel hollow and weightless, stealing the last of her energy, and she lurched at Alistair one last time, blades meeting and parting before she stumbled and dropped to one knee. The little elf gasped for air, squeezing her eyes shut with the effort to find some, and let herself keel over until her back met the softness of the Brecilian ground, and the spring air evaporated some of the wetness on her skin.

Lyna extended her arms out beside her like bird wings and swallowed down the dryness that came from such activity. Nearby, she heard the ground absorb another impact—this one much louder and denser than her own—and moved her head to the side. Alistair was positioned similarly, and he too choked to breathe, his bronze stare fixated the heavens above of them. For a few moments, all they did was slow their hearts.

“Are you all right?” he soon asked her, his voice reduced to a mere whisper.

Lyna nodded and then furrowed her brow, realizing that he couldn’t have seen the gesture. “Yes. I’m better.”

Alistair chuckled, the birth and end of a low laugh, and Lyna couldn’t help but smile at the sound, at the beautiful sound of her lover’s joy.

“Good. I’m glad.”

I am too.

“Thank you,” Lyna breathed, her eyes flickering open. Stars and lights of every shape glowed in the sky, twinkling back down at her as if Mythal herself had witnessed the events of tonight. She imagined that all of her gods had watched, and that their gazes remained somewhere in the collage of starlight she could see. Perhaps they had drained the sickness away for her, as they have many other nights.

She heard Alistair shift and then suddenly felt his warm hand touch hers, his calloused palm sliding over hers and tangling with her fingers. His touch felt like relief and understanding… compassion and love all at once, and Lyna flexed her wrist so that her hand curled around his. He’d probably wanted to do this all night long.

“You’re welcome.”

[jimmriarty]

Prompt: Sherlock playing violin and ignoring Jim who is trying to make advances

sorry it took so long ;_; since it’s more than 1k i have also posted it on AO3!!! maybe leave a kudos?

The thing about JimMoriarty is that he got under his skin.

At first Sherlockthought of him as a poison. Few drops – a negligible amount, as small as thetime they spent together – in his blood, few drops capable of filling everysingle moment of his life with pain and suffering, few drops that would havelead to certain death.

Then his idea of himchanged.

Jim Moriarty becamenicotine, heroin, cocaine, whatever drug Sherlock craved in that specificmoment. Always capable of destroying him, but in a way Sherlock would havegreeted with a smile and outstretched fingers.

Now, as the bow moveson the violin strings and Jim Moriarty watches him with something betweenthirst and devotion in his eyes, Sherlock realizes he was wrong. Jim Moriartyisn't poison or smoke or drugs, he isn't any of these over-abused clichéswriters love, no. Jim Moriarty is something more important, something that hasalways been part of him.

If he was romantic hewould say Jim is part of his soul, but Sherlock Holmes is the only consultingdetective in the world, is a man who lives thanks to his mind, a man thatdesperately tries to ignore his emotions and use only logic.

Sherlock Holmes is ascientist and for him Jim Moriarty is part of his DNA. A mutation thatshouldn't exist, an error that has been there since the day he was born andthat makes him the person he is. That makes him different.

Jim Moriarty is inhis DNA and this is why only few weeks since the start of their"relationship" – Jim is the only one to use that word – Sherlockbegan to hum songs he didn't know before hearing the Napoleon of Crime sing inthe shower. This is why sometimes he tilts his head in a way that John called,frowning and with confusion deposited on his glabella, "oddly familiar anddisturbing". This is why, when he walks around London and Moriarty isnowhere to be found, busy with only God knows what, Sherlock sees Jim in thefaces of strangers.

"Sherlock..."

Jim says his nameslowly, he tastes it on his tongue. He gets up from his chair and he walkstowards him and it's in the very moment the expensive leather shoes hit thefloor that Sherlock realizes something is about to change. It happens everytime. Jim has the need to destroy the balance Sherlock created – it doesn'tmatter how.

"You are good,you really are. I wonder, however, what else you can do with thosefingers."

He tilts his head, agrin on his lips. It's the same expression he wears in the bedroom or with agun to his head.

Sherlock closes hiseyes to ignore any possible distraction. He keeps playing.

"Unfinished Melody". A (work in progress)composition he's writing just for Jim – the irony of the title made thecriminal chuckle and Sherlock's chest suddenly felt warm. It's a fairlydifficult piece, but he has played it so many times in the loneliness of his bedroomthat he has no problem repeating the operation with his eyes closed.

"Oh, sillyme!" Sherlock frowns at the sound of Jim hitting his own forehead with hishand. "I already know what you can do!"

Jim stops so closeSherlock can feel the heath radiating from him.

"You shoved yourfingers in my mouth. Like this..."

The wet sounds thatfollow are more eloquent than any word.

Sherlock doesn't needto open his eyes to see Jim's middle and index fingers sliding rhythmicallybetween his lips – he knows the corners are just slightly raised in a smilethat is more vulgar than the action itself – or to feel his gaze. He doesn'tneed to because it happened so many times he lost count, because now Jim ismoaning and fuck, his pants are alittle tighter.

Despite everything,it's not about sex, not really.

It's a game. A game whereJim pushes his boundaries and Sherlock tries to resist even if he doesn'treally want to, a game that Jim will always win – not that it really matters,because for once winning is less important than playing. Rivalry is what keepsthem together. This is why they compete all the time for the most trivial andstupid things.

"Of course youdidn't stop there. Your hands are beautiful and amazing, but you never fingerme enough. You are always so rough..."

"Never heard youcomplaining."

Jim laughs.

"You are stillplaying and you didn't make a single mistake. I will fix it soon of course, butI have to admit I'm impressed. Bravo.Anyway, what I was talking about? Oh right, your hands."

The floor creaks,which means Jim moved. Sherlock expects fingers sliding on the expensivemidnight blue shirt Jim bought him and reaching his trousers, expects handsplaying with the button and caressing his thighs while ignoring the bulgebetween his legs. His predictions and deductions are rarely wrong, but this is oneof those sporadic times. Jim moved yes, but he's not gonna touch him. In theback of his throat, Sherlock tastes something resembling disappointment.

"You know whatis my favourite thing you can do with them? Choking me. Your hands on my neck,squeezing until I can't breathe anymore and then squeezing some more until I'mhigh from the lack of oxygen."

Sherlock loses therhythm. He keeps playing, but the notes that linger in the air are now lessmelodious, different from what they are supposed to be. Both men notice it, butneither of them acknowledge it out loud.

"You always actlike between us I'm the only one who is fucked up. My reaction to choking ispure biology" and here a little giggle escapes from Jim's lips "butyou? You are turned on because you like hearing me struggling under you,because you like to pretend you would be able to kill me, because you know youare the only one who has ever had this power and---"

Sherlock misses anote. He stops playing.

In the darknessbehind closed eyelids, the world has stopped. Or rather, it's not the worldthat is standing still, crystallized in an ice bubble – in the distance, Sherlockcan hear the noise of cars and buses and people and life – but the microcosm oftheir living room.

Jim doesn't move. Hisbreathing is so slow and quiet that doesn't make a sound, even if the inchesthat separate them can be counted on the fingers on one hand. Sherlock can'tsee him, but he's sure Jim is watching him carefully, blinking only when hiseyes burn so he doesn't miss anything, not even a fraction of second.

Jim is waiting.

If someone else hadleft him with an erection between his legs and a defeat to admit, Sherlockwould have been mortified. His ears would have been red, on his face would haveappeared a childish blush that he would have tried to hide, turning abruptlyand inventing excuses with fast and deep voice.

Jim Moriarty however,is not like everybody else. Everything is different with him.

Sherlock curls hislips in a hint of a smile, stoops to lay the violin on the floor and then getsup again. Only then he opens his eyes.

Jim Moriarty's faceis surrounded by colourful spots dancing in the corners of his field of view.He looks like something out of a dream.

"So?"

"You won."

"And?"

"I needyou."

Jim makes a halfcurtsy. Then, he kneels between his legs.

[max-vas-normandy]

I Don’t Care With You I Can’t Go Wrong

yo, it’s been what? 4 months?? since I last updated a chap to my drabble series, geeze time flies, and so do my fingers across the keyboard.  So here have this 4k oneshot/drabble with a dash of angst to keep you on your toes

Chapter 5:  I've never truly loved till you put your arms around me

A03: (x) FFnet: (x)

This one was actually a request!!! And the prompt was:

"Just IMAGINE your otp being reunited after an apocalypse breakout, not knowing where the other was for a period of time, worrying the other was dead, imagine them running into each other’s arms and squeezing each other in a hug that could last for hours and crying of happiness and relief, friCKING IMAGINE I DARE YOU I’m cRyiNg"

You should have kissed her.

“What are we doing?”

“You’ll see”

Your hands tighten into fists leaving unseen half crescent marks on your whitening hands.  Jaw aching from the tension building there.

You paced the area of the small room (‘tch more like a prison’ you thought with venom) that you had been placed in.  Your skin was still slightly feverish and glistening from the hot flash you had broken into earlier.  Your right arm throbbed as angry red welts bubbled up on the bite mark.  Illuminated by the sliver of moonlight peeking in from the tiny window in the corner of the room you examined the wound.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been locked up in here exactly but it had to be at least twelve hours.

And yet…

“What the fuck?”

Your skin was still the same complexion as before.  To your surprise there were no signs of fungal growth around the bitten area. Actually it seemed to be scabbing over? And your mind was still as clear as it was when you first arrived.

“How long has it been? At least twelve hours in this hell hole and then another two to get here from the mall, and one hour before we decided to even get off our asses and come here… So fifteen hours?”

It was strange.

Everyone you knew of immediately declined in health, mentally or physically, sometimes both, during the first 5 hours, at least.  They say it can take up to two days for stage one to take effect, but that was for only the really “lucky”.

“Fucking figures I’d be slow to go… Heh that rhymed” a small smile appeared on your lips as you laughed at yourself.  But no less than ten seconds later you were back to frowning.

Deciding to give your legs a break you collapsed back on the cold floor and stare up at the stone ceiling. Your mind drifted back to the mall, before everything went to shit…

Riley takes the well worn walkman and plugs it into one of the speakers.  An upbeat song soon replaces whatever classical bullshit that was previously playing.

“Yeah!”

You watch as Riley begins to bop along with the beat.

“What are you- really?”

Riley climbs on top of one of the counters and continues her happy movements

“Come ere’”

You sigh in faux exasperation at the invite but don’t hesitate to follow

“Get your ass up here”

“Ugh this is so stupid”

The smiles in both of their voices negated any would be arguments.

After some probing from Riley you finally loosen up and dance with her as if you both didn’t have a care in the world.  And for a moment it felt like you didn’t.

Oh, babe, I got you, babe, I got you, babe

Say, our love won't pay the rent

Before it's earned, our money's all been spent

“What is it?”

You don’t notice you stopped moving until Riley reaches for your hands. Your pull away from her touch and Riley instantly steps forward to close the distance between you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Riley asked you gently.  The way the brunette looked at you made the tears you had just pushed back well up in your eyes again.

Swallowing down the dangerous emotions you had kept under lock and key you muster up a half smirk and shove Riley’s shoulder playfully.

“I’m just gonna miss hanging out like this with you” You turn around and blink rapidly to stop the stinging in your eyes.  Hopping off the table you takes two steps away before turning back around to face Riley’s frowning face, “But I know you gotta go.”

“Ellie-” the brunette tries to argue but you quickly shut her down.

“Riley, it’s time”

You head toward your abandoned backpacks without another glance.

The next thing you knew your name was being called out followed by a gunshot.

Tears spill over trailing from the corner of your eyes down your face.

You should have told her not to go.  You should have begged and pleaded for Riley to stay in Boston. To stay with you.

You should have kissed her.

But you didn’t.

Instead you walked away and got blindsided by Runners that had suddenly appeared in the mall.  Riley was able to shoot the first two that were heading your way but a third one had managed to tackle you to the ground.  But after some difficulty you managed to pull out your knife and escape its grip.  Then Riley was there helping you up and guiding you out of the mall.

After escaping through an open window and carefully scaling down the side of the building you both collapsed on a rooftop trying to catch your breath. And after a beat you started laughing.

The adrenalin was fading from your systems and the sun was shining down on you, greeting you to a new day, and you were both alive and safe.  So you laughed, in relief, in comfort, in happiness.

“Ya know, now I can kinda see why Marlene didn’t want me hanging around you.” You goad and Riley giggled in response.

“What was it you said earlier? Oh yeah, ‘when have we ever gotten into trouble?’ I guess that time is now.”

“It all worked out didn’t it?”

“Pshh, don’t sound all cocky, the real hero today was Skeleseer, he was the one who said no one would die today.  All hail Skeleseer and his divine blessings.”

“Shut up nerd”

Riley nudged your arm and then let her hand trail down towards your own.  But before she reached your sweaty but waiting palm she jerked her hand away as if she were burned.  Your watch as Riley sits up looking panicked and you mirror the brunettes’ movements.

“Riley, what’s going on?”

But the other girl wasn’t even looking at you, her eyes were trained downward.

“Ellie,” Riley slowly bringing her eyes up to meet your confused ones, “Ellie your arm…”

You think about the rage you flew into using every explicit you knew, cursing everything and everyone, breaking whatever was lying around on the roof.  Riley just waited quietly still sitting in the same spot and just watched you.  Finally tiring yourself out you sat down next to Riley and cried.

It had been quiet between you for awhile before Riley had spoke up, offering a plan that had made sense to you at the moment.

You remember the grave look in Riley’s eye and the pain in your voice when you questioned why she had suggested you go to Marlene even though you both knew you were doomed.

“I know it’s stupid, and there is probably no way in hell that she can do anything, but… I just can’t…”

“Can’t what?”

“Sitting here, watching you turn, watching you suffer… that would be the worst, but I would do it for you, so you wouldn’t be alone. But I sure as hell can’t kill you Ellie.  I refuse to put a bullet in your head.  So please… don’t ask me to do that.”

So you didn’t.

Instead you made your way covertly across the city to the firefly base.

Marlene was livid, she paced back and forth, she yelled, she even punched Riley in the gut in her fit of rage.

But Riley just took it all in stride; she never flinched once even though you were sure at one point Marlene was going to kill your best friend.  But instead after a long and heavy silence with Marlene just staring at the both of you she signaled two guards and told one to take you away and the other to escort Riley to the pickup zone.

Even after the cluster-fuck that was the other night Riley ending up having to leave you behind anyway.

Thoughts turning bitter you curl up on the floor of your impromptu cell and thinks for the umpteenth time

‘I should have kissed her’

You ghost a touch over your covered forearm.  It’s been three weeks and it’s still hard to believe that the scarred and slightly raised skin hiding under your long sleeve shirt would just be the ghost of a terrible dream.

You were immune.

Holy shit.

You still remember the shock in Marlene’s eyes when she opened the sliding hatch on the door and peered through expecting to see someone who had lost touch with their humanity.  But instead she just found you huddled in the far corner, eyes red rimmed and thoroughly tired, dehydrated and starving, but decidedly still sane.

Obviously not trusting her eyes she had tentatively called out to you and received a weak reply in return. A hushed sound of shock had escaped from her lips but she had not let you out, still not convinced it wasn’t a fluke. So she had left you in there for another day.  And when she returned you were still just as uninfected as before but passed out from a mix of sleep deprivation lack of food and water.

Three days and no signs of infection. Your wound had still been red and tender but the flesh surrounding it hadn’t mutated, but it would definitely leave a memory behind.

You had stayed in that room for the rest of the week but you was now given food and water; then after the seventh day you were allowed to leave.  Marlene had brought your into a bone crushing hug and even the guards who were by your door seemed to be in high spirits.

News of your immunity spread through the base giving a surge of hope to everyone there.  You were the answer to a vaccine that had been long in the making.  You were the reason for them to keep fighting.

Plans were made to transfer Your to the new Firefly base they were setting up in Salt Lake City. Marlene had drawn her eyebrows together as if remembering something unpleasant, but you brushed aside any of your questions.

If you were honest with yourself, you were excited.  It was easy to get caught up in the idea that you could actually help make a difference somehow.  The only thing that would make this better was if you could share in the excitement with…

Riley

You wonder where she is, how she’s doing, if she’s been told that you’re still alive and not some crazed being with a decaying brain running around or lying in a ditch somewhere. You had mustered up the courage to ask Marlene about her but she waved you’re inquiries aside saying that she and her team were still making the trek to their new base.  But every time you brought up Riley Marlene would get that same distasteful expression on her face that you had caught a glance of when she first told you that you were getting ready to leave Boston.

You secretly wonder if maybe this new base was the same one Riley was sent to but instantly squash the hope that began to take wing in your heart.

Three weeks later everything is prepped for you to go.  You head toward Marlene’s office to tell her your bag is packed and your ready to leave but you hesitate outside her door when you hear a second voice.

“-agreed to finally sell you his cache of guns and is just waiting on you to close the deal”

“Finally.  Stubborn bastard, I was beginning I should just shoot him and take his shipment as compensation for wasting our time.”

“As for the escorts for the girl we have located your friends, and coincidentally enough they also have business with Robert so you’ll most likely bump into them when you head over there.”

“Really? What do they need from him?”

“Turns out he also promised that gun cache to them, and has already collected on their payment, but now he is trying to back out of the deal”

Marlene clucks her tongue

“Cocky prick, always knew he’d piss off the wrong people one day.  Maybe I should shoot him and save my friends the trouble.  Alright dismissed.”

“Ma’am, there’s one more thing”

“What?”

“The group you had sent to the new base have just arrived, but turns out there were some… complications”

“Well don’t make me hold my breath, spit it out!”

“On the way they ran into some trouble with bandits and there were major casualties’ ma’am.  Of the twenty members you sent only 6 made it to the destination”

A heavy silence engulfed the room.  You swallow past the lump that suddenly formed in your throat and subconsciously wonder why your palms began to sweat and your stomach lurched in fear.  You press you’re burning ear against the door and wait with baited breath for the muffled voices to say something, anything.

“I see” a pause “Who did we lose?”

You feel your heart pound with each name that is reported, barely able to hear them over the loudness of the organ.  As he reaches the final five names your heart has already moved its way to your throat and your eyes were slammed shut.

“-Fields” thump “Montgomery” thump “Burkhart” thump “Simmons” thump ���and Abel, Ma’am”

…

For a moment you swear your heart had stopped.  Lead weighs heavily in your chest making it hard to breathe.  You’re eyes fly open and gloss over. And you flinch away from the door backing up until your back hits the wall on the opposite side.

No… maybe you heard wrong, or maybe there was someone else with that last name, there’s no way it was Riley it couldn’t be.

Tears slip past your lids and you don’t even bother to catch them.

You quickly gather your backpack and slink back to your room to fall apart on your own.

Twenty minutes later you don’t even care about Marlene’s impatient knocking at your door.  It was better than having her find you in the hallway with red rimmed eyes and a broken heart.

Time is funny.

One moment your being carefree with your best friend in the mall dancing like fools to the music on a walkman trying to ignore the fact that one of you was going to be leaving the state while the other would be left behind at the school.

And the next thing you know a year has passed you’ve basically made a cross country trek, with a once closed off and jaded man who has become someone precious to you, to find an anti-military group to possibly help them find a vaccine for a fungal pandemic.

When you stop and think about it it’s kinda surreal, but then again you’re living in a post apocalyptic world so at this point nothing can really sound too surprising.

At least that’s what you thought.

The walk back to Jackson was quieter than usual.  Your thoughts were still tangled up with the events that happened back in Salt Lake, and you were frustrated that you couldn’t remember what had happened and that Joel felt the need to lie to you about it.  You’re sure that whatever it was wouldn’t even make you half as mad as the fact that he swore to you and still lied, but dammit you trust him so you’re willing to let it go.  At least for now.

And honestly it was easy to bite back your questions especially when the sound of nearby gunfire could occupy your attention.

You and Joel immediately take cover behind the wall of the building you were about to walk past. Joel signals for you to stay put as he peeks around the corner, hands already reaching for his 9mm.

“Looks like bandits, but we should be able to sneak past them.  Just follow my lead and stay low.”

You nod and pull out the revolver Joel had found for you.  It had a different feel than your pistol but if you couldn’t adapt in this world then you don’t make it very far.

With one last look Joel takes off toward the next building to take cover and you follow without any hesitation.

Another shot rings out followed by the sound of feet smacking against the pavement.  You both move along the wall slowly keeping your senses on alert.  You see another building across the street with a missing door and you know that’s your next destination, then you could most likely get to higher ground in order to get a better grasp of the situation.

One of the bandits begins to speak and Joel takes their distraction as a chance to make it into the next building.

“Listen up kid, we just want the meds and you’re really working on my last nerve, so just hand them over before I stop playing nice, ya hear”

You ready yourself to sprint across the street and join Joel, but the next voice to speak stops you dead in your tracks.

“Bite me asshole. Like I told you and your merry band of dipshits before. Fuck.  Off.”

Suddenly there’s ice in your veins, your heart drops to your stomach and your head becomes light. You’d recognize that voice anywhere, but it’s impossible, your mind has to be playing tricks on you.

You look over to Joel, whose face is pinched in worry, waiting for you.  Not even taking a second to see if the coast was clear, you sprint across the street and grab onto Joel’s arm.

“We have to help her” you demand in a harsh whisper

“Wha, Ellie d’ya hear yourself?”

“I know I sound crazy, but Joel trust me. We have to help her.”

You see his face set into a familiar frown and you know he’ just gearing up on some lecture on the five thousand reasons you shouldn’t do this, but honestly you don’t have time to argue with him.

“Listen we don’t have time for a discussion, I’m going to help that girl weather you help me or not, but it would be nice if you had my back.”  And without waiting for a reply you duck out of the building and into the alley way to your right following the voice of the obviously pissed off bandit leader.

“Damn brat is really becoming a huge pain in my ass.  Screw it, just take her out, I’m through playing games.”

You duck behind a car and drink in a big gulp of air.  Steeling your resolve you peek over your cover and take a quick headcount of the bandits.

Okay, eight of them and one of me, no big deal Ellie, divide and conquer right?

You jump a little in surprise when Joel suddenly drops behind the car too

“Listen, I don’t know what’s gotcha all riled up, but I ain’t gonna let ya run in to this with no help.”

You throw him a grateful smile and can’t resist the urge to hug him so you quickly throw your arms around his neck and mutter out a thanks.

Now that you were both on the same page you move out working in the familiar rhythm you both had acquired, you provide a distraction in one direction making someone go investigate and Joel neutralizes the target which easily takes care four of the bandits. The last four which seemed to include the apparent leader however were staying grouped together so their divide and conquer plan wouldn’t work.

You turn to Joel hoping he had another plan to fall back on but before you could even open your mouth you hear one of the bandit yell get down and not two seconds later the sound of shattering glass and screams fill the air.

You both peek out to see what happened and your eyes widen when you see two of the bandits on fire and running around in panic while the leader and the final bandit try to get them to drop to the ground.

Before you could even think Joel had shot up and had already sunk two bullets in the two distracted thugs.

Breathing a sigh of relief you stand up making sure the coast was clear before making your way to the bandits were previously surrounding with your heart in her throat and ignoring Joel’s calls.

Quickly sweeping the open area of the first floor and not seeing anyone you head toward the stairs skipping steps along the way.  When you make it to the top you decide to head left and check the rooms in that direction.  Slowing your pace down you place a hesitant hand on the first rooms knob.  Gathering up your courage you twist the handle and push.

Peeking your head into the room you see it’s full of boxes and nothing else, you silently curse and move on.

Each room turns out to be a bust and suddenly you’re at the last door.  With no hesitation you open the door and step halfway in.  You quickly deem this room another dud but before you can step backward you feel something cool and solid press against the back of your head.

“Put your hands where I can see them.”

Your heart skips 5 beats s it jumps up into your throat.  Your muscles twitch as you rest the urge to spin around.  Slowly putting your hands up you swallow dryly as you try to find your words.

“Riley?” Your voice is soft but is filled with a feeling you can’t really put into words but you haven’t felt since that day at the mall.  Swallowing hard you call out again.

“Riley, i-it’s me.” You feel the pressure on the back on your head slacken a bit. “Look I’m gonna turn around now, so try not to blow my brains out kay?”

Slowly turning on your heel you come face to face with the girl you thought you had lost almost a year ago. A breath of fresh air fills your lungs as you lock gazes with familiar brown eyes that were glossed over with tears.

“Ellie?”

You bring a hand up and gently lower Riley’s now trembling hand that still had a gun locked in her vice grip.

“Ya know you look pretty good for someone who’s supposed to be dead.” You joke as tears start to fill your own eyes.

Riley just chokes out a laugh, “That’s rich coming from someone who’s also supposed to be pushing up daisies.” The older girl punches you in the shoulder before bringing you into a bone crushing hug.  Melting into the embrace you bury your face into her neck not even minding the smell of sweat and dirt that clung to her.

The moment Riley’s shoulders shuddered and you hear her hiccup in your ear you feel the damn holding your tears back burst as well.  And now you’re both standing here crying and sniffling like giant messes and you honestly couldn’t be any happier.  Your grip on the taller girls’ waist tightens still not really believing that Riley was here in front of you.

You’re pretty sure that you both could have stood there forever while embracing each other but your moments interrupted by a guff clearing of the throat.  Looking over Riley’s shoulder you see an awkward looking Joel standing by the stairs.  Rolling your eyes at the man you sigh to yourself knowing that you’ll have to break apart from Riley and you honestly didn’t want to, but you guys should honestly get moving.

Even when you both disengage from your embrace you instantly grab Riley’s hand not wanting lose total contact with her.  Walking over to the scruffy Texan with a smile on your face you introduce him to the girl next to you.

“Joel this is Riley.” His eyes widen in recognition of the name and looks to you to make sure he heard right.  You nod at him and he brings his gaze back to Riley while scratching at his scruffy beard.

After a moment he tilts his head in acknowledgement and lets out an awkward “Nice to meet cha.”

Later that night after a lot of explanations and walking you all settle down for the night but you were too energized to sleep.

As soon as you were sure Joel was asleep you creep over to where Riley was lying.  Knowing she wasn’t asleep you tug at her hand, urging her off the ground.  You both sneak off away from camp but not too far just in case.

The moment you both stopped walking you turn on your heel and plant a kiss smack on Riley’s lips.

“I’ve wanted to do that for like a year now.”

Riley looks at you with sparkling eyes and a smile on her lips and you know that you’ve made the right decision.

“Geeze what took you so long?”

She leans down and gives you another kiss before bringing you in for a hug.

I just realized this is the first time they’ve kissed in this drabble series.

I hope this is to your liking NightBlaze.  Honestly this one got away from me, like it was never meant to be over 3k words, it was originally just the last 600 words or so but then I felt like there had to be some minor world building, then I was like hmm maybe this should be a separate one-shot but then I was like nah, so you get this super long one-shot/drabble. And honestly I have a bad habit of writing a chapter out and then like not publishing it.  I don't get it really, it's like I'll write 97% of it in like a day or two and put off the finishing touches for so long.  I should work on that, and then you guys would get more updates. Also this was originally 3rd pov but as I kept writing I kept unconsciously slipping into 2nd pov, so I was like whatever let's go with it, so I hope it flows well like this :)

Last thing I’ll say, did y’all see the trailer for tlou 2?  Like bruh, I want older Ellie to punch me in the face and I’d say thanks.  But besides that it looks good and I’m so excited

[blame-canada]

Quarter Rests: Change

The CMV Mutation Pandemic swept across the globe so quickly, society as they knew it was doomed to fall. While the world came crashing down around them, Craig and Tweek tried their best to survive, and to love endlessly, in spite of it.

Hello friends! For the September 2017 South Park Drabble Bomb, I’ve decided to use all five prompts to write for the Halfway universe- which means everything here is canon to that fanfiction and its timeline! I hope you’ll tune in to catch a few little tidbits here and there about this universe I’ve lovingly crafted into my own. Link to the fic on AO3 here!

Chapter Five: Change

He wanted most to be an optimist, but life was truly, honestly, not supposed to have gone this way.

Clyde liked to go with whatever life threw at him. It was something his father had taught him, to live in every moment, and something even further cemented by the passing of his mother. With life so fragile and short, he found meaning in taking what he was given in stride, and smiling at the obstacle courses he’d been subjected to in his many years since. This obstacle was proving hard to smile at, though, and in fact Clyde was finding it very difficult to smile at all, even in the metaphorical simulations buried deep in his brain.

His knees were achy from a day spent standing at work. They popped and ground together like they needed oiling, and he shook out his legs between steps for good measure as he dragged his feet out of the lab and toward the locker rooms. He hung up his lab coat- his name wasn’t even embroidered on it. It was printed on a sticker in the back. In this hospital, he was nameless.

He’d studied meteorology, actually. He had only just finished his degree by the time the virus began its destruction, and the cookie crumbled in such a way that when he ended up back at home, the hospital had dragged him in. They were taking anybody who knew anything about biology and was immune. He’d taken one or two courses in college, and they figured that was enough. The rest, he improvised and figured out along the way. It wasn’t where he wanted to end up- not by a long shot- but he’d do anything that might help. Nobody really cared about the weather, at that point.

South Park was always the town you ran away from. You left high school, found somewhere, anywhere else, and bolted for the door. Clyde had never really been a fan of that mentality. He didn’t want to run away; not when his father would be left behind. He didn’t like feeling like his father was completely alone in that shell of a house, made even emptier by the old picture frames that showed a family frozen in time more than a decade ago. They were all so dusty.

When Clyde came back to that empty house, he came back alone. His wife, a woman he adored whom he’d met in college, was buried in a small-town cemetery beside her parents in a family plot. It didn’t make sense for him to stay in their apartment when everything in it reminded him of her, and he packed up his essentials the day after the funeral and went back home. All throughout the funeral, his father kept patting him on the back, as though it was the only way he could ever express his sympathy and total understanding. He would never say he was glad Clyde didn’t have kids, but Clyde knew he was thinking it.

He pulled the lock out of his locker door, and took out his outdoor sneakers and carrier bag, slinging the sack over one shoulder before sitting down on the bench that ran along the middle of the row. He sighed, the bottom of his lungs feeling heavy and weighted. He overextended his arms to pull his muscles apart from their knotted up mess in his back, stiff from a day of staring into machines and computer screens. When the good feeling of the stretch faded, he sagged and hunched his shoulders, arms on both knees that were too tired to tie his laces.

God, he felt so old now. His father picked on him, for acting like a grandpa in his twenties, but it was wearing on him too. The Donovan men were very good at joking, and not very good at talking. He missed being the kid looking for laughs, ripped on by his friends in good fun and screwing around on the playground. Whenever he had to walk past the school yard, he had to look away now; the playground just looked so wrong to be barren and falling apart. Part of him still hoped the world would go back to normal, but part of him told him it would never be the same.

The door to the locker room swung open from around the corner. His attention snapped his head up, straightened his back, hoped it was who he thought it was. The squeaky sneaker footsteps walked along the aisle blocked by a row of lockers, and then their maker turned the corner into Clyde’s lane.

“Craig!” he exclaimed, a smile growing widely at the sight of a familiar stone face. Craig froze for just a moment, making brief eye contact, and he grunted in greeting before looking back down and stopping in front of his locker opposite Clyde’s. “Hey man,” Clyde continued, feeling a slight sting in his chest but forging onward anyway, “how’s it going?”

“Fine,” Craig replied tersely, and Clyde’s smile started to wane, try as he might to stop it. No, he wanted that smile so much. He wanted to be happy. He wanted his friend to talk to him, look at him with any expression besides annoyance or complete neutrality. He wanted a lot of things. With every day that passed, it seemed less likely he’d get any of them.

“How’s the fam?” Clyde asked, finally breaking his eye contact with Craig’s back to start lacing up his sneakers with new energy. Craig grunted again; Clyde’s smile lost another millimeter. His dimples started to fade.

“My dad was looking to part with some old junk you might wanna take a look at,” Clyde tried again, “friends and family discount? I mean, we’re not selling it or anything, but you can take first pick if you like.”

“Why would I want old junk you planned on throwing away in the first place?” Craig said, his voice somehow even flatter than usual, and Clyde officially lost the wind in his sails, slumping forward and cowering like a goddamn idiot. God, he was so stupid. Of course he wouldn’t. The air between them grew tense and awkward.

“Yeah, I guess you’ve got a point,” Clyde chuckled nervously, but when he realized he had nothing else to say, he let out the air he’d taken into his lungs to speak. Craig continued to unpack his things from his locker silently. He was hyper aware of the buzzing of the overhead lights, one of them sounding close to breaking and plunging them into the dark. It didn’t, though, and Craig left without another word.

Alone, with nothing but the ambient noise of a basement locker room to keep him company, Clyde mumbled, “Have a good one.” He didn’t like to let Craig leave without saying it. Maybe it hurt less if Craig wasn’t there to hear him. If he didn’t hear him, he couldn’t intentionally ignore him.

Clyde felt alone a lot, now.

He sang a song to himself as he walked home. He was never very good at singing, but it still felt good, and so he did. The empty streets made him feel much less self-conscious too, and the whistling winter winds provided an echo chamber to make any noise he wanted. Though it was an open street, in plain sight and broad daylight, it still felt private, and so he prayed.

“Hey, mom,” he started, putting a smile on his face for her. When Clyde prayed, he didn’t pray to God. “I’m pretty sad today.” He let the words hang around him, the words feeling wrong slipping past a grin. It helped though, to let it out, and so he did. “I’ve been sad a lot. I hope that’s okay.” Another pause. There was a snow pile that had caved into the walkway that was perfect for kicking, and so he did.

“This sucks, mom,” he admitted. “I wish Craig would talk to me. I wish people could smile more again. Am I not trying enough?” He used the silence as an answer. He turned the corner to start walking down his street. “I dunno. I think I’m doing okay. I think I’m proud of me.” The cold scratched his cheeks extra raw, and he shivered. “I hope Tweek gets better. I miss him, and Craig.”

The wind started scratching at his eyes too. “I miss Sarah,” he whispered. “I miss you. Dad misses you, too.” His next footstep hovered over its place, his will to move forward shattered. His shivering got worse. He doubted it was much warmer at home, the heat having been cut off over a month ago. There wasn’t much difference standing out here than standing in there, and maybe he wasn’t ready to say hello to his father yet. Maybe he needed his mom first.

“Please help them, mom,” he pleaded. Wetness made the wind hurt worse. “Craig needs your help more than I do. Help him first.” For some reason, the silence after his monologue felt much lonelier than usual. He wasn’t ready to fall apart yet though, not yet. He’d gotten this far. He’d watched his wife die, for God’s sake. He could handle his friend not speaking to him. ‘It’s more than that, though,’ the devil in his ear replied.

He stood there for a long time, the wind moving around him untroubled by his presence. His fingers grew numb the longer he stared at the snow, which was making his eyes water. It was the wind and the snow making them leak. He needed to believe that, or he wasn’t going to make it through.

“I love you,” he finally said, unsure who he was speaking to, and with resigned urgency prompted only by the stinging on his cheeks and in his fingers and toes, he trudged on.