#it's been keeping me floundering above water in bad months

[triaelf9]

Made a horrible little thing in my frustration at like EVERY corporation trying to shove "AI" down our throats and so I took out my frustrations by making a little thing for anyone who wants to show their frustrations XD

Also, if you're feeling extra sassy and what to make your frustrations clearly known to the corporations etc, I also have this:

Anyway, buying one helps support a real human (potato) artist whose been hit hard by twitter death, so like, if you like this, or any of my actually pretty stuff (great Pride things up too!) buy a sticker or two! ^_^

Shop here! https://artofelainetipping.threadless.com/

And if you're feeling cheeky, I have a collection of cheeky meme items like this one ^_^

https://artofelainetipping.threadless.com/collections/cheeky-memes

[gravelyhumerus]

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter Twelve

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away” Relationship: Jemily

Rating: Explicit (as of this chapter) Summary: JJ faces consequence for her actions (and gets a hickey).

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr:  One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

JJ threw herself down onto the bench, hoisting her cleat onto the table and yanking the laces loose. She bit her cheek to keep from crying as her breaths came in heaves. 

She had run from it all, again. That’s all she was good for anyways, running away. It’s what Jareaus did best. 

She closed her eyes, focusing on the present, pushing away all of the thoughts of home that were flashing across her vision. 

Home, in her quiet, empty childhood home, JJ had gotten a text from Emily Prentiss. JJ read the message, standing stock-still in the bathroom that sent shivers down her spine. 

The sight of the girl’s name made her smile, brought a shiver of excitement down her spine and the ghost of a kiss to her lips. 

But, when she closed her eyes, Rosalyn’s blood pooled on the tile floor underneath her feet. JJ couldn’t respond to Emily’s text. Instead, she curled up on the floor next to where her sister died. 

JJ shook her head, returning to the present. This wasn’t the time, she thought. 

She moved to her other shoe, untying the laces and prying the cleat off of her sore foot. She rolled her knee-high socks off of her calves, focusing on the familiar motions and not the swirling thoughts and emotions that tugged at her brain. 

But today, soccer wasn’t helping. The sport had always been her solace, the pitch a place where she could forget who she was, what she was, for a couple hours. But today, the mess that was her life had broken through the barrier, and gotten her sent home from practice early. 

JJ cursed as she stripped off her uniform, working her tight shirt and sports bra over her head, then removing her baggy navy blue shorts. Wrapping a towel around her, JJ grit her teeth as she took her toiletries into the shower. 

With a protesting squeak, the tap spun under JJ’s hands. She turned it just past midway, then further into the red, hoping the hot water would wash away the fog that clogged JJ’s brain.

JJ’s father was gone. Her mother hadn’t had the heart to tell her. Leaving it for JJ to arrive in her childhood home, finding out in person that the dining room now had two empty chairs instead of just one.

She stepped into the shower and let the scalding water run over her body. 

“I’m sorry Jenny,” her mother said, her voice breaking with the words. “I didn’t know how to say it over the phone, and after your break up-”

He had left without so much of a goodbye. She should have seen it coming. The fighting that had been bad when she was a teen, had only gotten worse after JJ wasn’t there to try and hold the pieces of her broken family together. 

She had frozen in the foyer, her duffel bag still in hand, as her mother stood before her, begging her to say something. 

JJ didn’t know what to say, still didn’t. All she knew was that she wasn’t enough. Not enough of a sister, of a daughter, of a girlfriend. She wasn’t enough for anyone, and she knew it. She couldn’t keep her family together. She couldn’t keep her sister alive. And she was certainly not good enough for someone like Emily Prentiss to love. 

Hot tears melded with the water raining down from above as JJ let out a quiet sob that echoed through the change room. 

“Jareau?” Kennedy’s confused voice called out as the door to the locker room slammed shut behind her. 

JJ stifled her cry with her hand over her mouth and tried to settle herself down. Breathing in and out, JJ closed her eyes and focused on the rush of the hot water over her body. 

JJ had run around the track, harder, faster, pushing herself further than she should have. She ran the drills sloppily, her aggression showing though in bursts of frustration when she couldn’t master her footwork. Her coach sent her to the locker room early; apparently he had enough of JJ’s bad mood.

JJ shook her head; she turned off the water and grabbed the towel, wrapping it around her before peeking her head out of the stall. 

“Yeah?” she croaked. 

“Seriously, like, what is going on with you?” Kennedy asked. 

JJ frowned, walking over and sitting on the bench, busying herself with towelling off her hair with her extra towel rather than answering the question. She shivered in the cool air.

“You’ve been all over the place this semester,” Kennedy continued, unheeded. “First you’re all weird, then you’re all smiley, now your brain is somewhere else.”

JJ didn’t look at her. 

“And frankly,” Kennedy continued, her wide blue eyes boring into the side of JJ’s face, “we can’t handle someone whose head isn’t in the game with playoffs coming up.”

JJ gulped. She was right. This had come at the worst possible time. All of this. And it was getting to her, affecting her game, making her sloppy. “Is this still about your break-up?” Kennedy asked. “Did something happen over Thanksgiving?”

“Honestly,” JJ sighed, “yes and no.”

“I don’t understand,” she said. 

She didn’t really understand either. How could she tell Kennedy about how her mother had cried when she had told her that she and Will had broken up? How could she explain that the tense silence between her and her mother was the last straw? How it was somehow worse than her parents' constant fighting? How could she explain that when she stared at the closed door of her dead sister's room, all of the heartbreak came flooding back?

Kennedy watched her, her earnest face blank as JJ wrestled with her inner turmoil. 

JJ’s mind flashed back to the hurt and pain on Emily’s face. The way Emily’s face collapsed into blankness as JJ pulled back, how JJ felt like she had betrayed her friend. 

JJ tried to explain. She went over her break up, in significantly more detail than she planned to, how she had felt bogged down by him, how she didn’t want him to visit, how he seemed to sense that and broke up with her. 

“But wasn’t all that a while ago?” Kennedy asked. 

JJ sighed. This was the catch. 

“There’s someone else on your mind, isn’t there?” Kennedy guessed. Sometimes the girl was actually perceptive. “Why haven’t you said anything? You’ve got to share. Is he hot?”

Well, not that perceptive. 

JJ found herself laughing at the question. She thought for a second. She hadn’t really… come out to anyone before. Penelope Garcia didn’t count, she practically guessed. Same with Spencer. And JJ hadn’t even thought about telling her mom. 

Kennedy was different. She thought JJ was straight and loved talking about boys with her. As the semester progressed, JJ’s interest in these conversations faded alongside her attraction to men.

“She is,” JJ said, to Kennedy’s surprise. 

JJ then proceeded to explain her friendship with Emily, her crush on the girl, and her absolute panic when faced with a potential romance with the other girl. 

“So you’re lesbian?” Kennedy asked.

“Yes. No. Maybe,” JJ floundered. 

“You don’t like me, do you?!” she asked, horror on her face. JJ’s stomach sank at the question. “Because I’m not… not…”

“Kennedy, I don’t,” JJ assured her, feeling a touch icky about the conversation. “I don’t see you that way.”

“Should I stop changing in front of you?” she asked.

JJ sighed in frustration. 

“Hey, you know how you don’t find all boys attractive?” JJ said, trying to dumb it down for her friend. “And some are just friends?”

“I guess,” Kennedy said, “So you don’t want to stare at girls in the change room?”

“No,” JJ said, “I’ve literally seen all of you guys naked. You’re like my siblings.”

“Oh thank god,” Kennedy said. JJ cringed at the relief in her voice, but decided not to call her out on it. “So this girl, Emily, you like her?”

“Yeah,” JJ said. 

“Then why don’t you date her?” Kennedy asked. “Didn’t you guys kiss?”

JJ ran her hands through her hair—a nervous habit she knew messed up her hair and left it poofy—as she tried to formulate her response. She couldn’t even explain it to Emily, or herself, she wasn’t sure how to make Kennedy understand. 

JJ hurt people. She messed everything up. She ruined her last relationship because she got bored of him. Would she do the same to Emily? That would ruin everything. She couldn’t lose Emily. It was better to be friends and have her close than have something more and ruin it. 

Explaining that was a challenge, but eventually Kennedy got it. Mostly.

“I think I’ve just made it worse,” JJ said. “I did exactly what I was trying to avoid, I hurt her.”

“What happened?”

JJ didn’t know what happened. She was still trying to claw her way out of the fog that clogged up her brain. 

“Emily texted me. And I just left her on read,” JJ said, her anger at herself coming through in her tone. “I didn’t mean to. She texted me when her flight landed but I was just so out of it.”

JJ gulped, rifling through her bag for some clothes as the chill of the room was creeping into her bones. 

“I put off responding to Emily until I had a handle on my feelings,” JJ explained, she was too afraid baggage on this girl that she liked so much, desperately avoiding scaring her off. 

Left alone in her childhood bedroom, the walls still painted pink and the band posters still hanging onto her wall with scotch tape, JJ’s thoughts swirled around. She worked herself up to a panic, pacing back and forth across the creaky wooden floor, until she laced up her sneakers and thundered downstairs. 

She ran. First, around the block, passing the familiar neighbours and parks that populated her suburban neighbourhood. She pushed on, heading deeper into suburbia.

Tears stung at her eyes as the route took her back to high school, her feeling of desperation to escape, to get out of this shitty town and all the weight that made her feel like she was slowly sinking. 

That weight had returned. Now, it doubled down on her, making her second guess it all. 

“I could have just pretended like nothing was wrong,” JJ said, “But that felt like a lie.”

Before she realized it, she found herself jogging past Will’s house. 

She remembered the year when he moved to Pennsylvania: it was tenth grade and he was the new kid. He hadn’t known Ros. He was safe, free of the expectations of JJ being the poor little Jareau girl. 

Now, seeing his place sent a pit of anxiety into her stomach. 

“But the more I put it off, the more I started questioning what I had started,” JJ said.

“Like, kissing her, you mean?” Kennedy asked, “Did you regret it or something?”

“No,” she replied, “I would never regret that.”

She ruined things. She hurt people. And if she let things continue with Emily, it would just blow up in her face. 

JJ ran harder, slowly coming to a conclusion. 

“I needed to break it off,” JJ said. “I knew I would hurt her. I just have so much going on. I’ll just hurt her.”

She gritted her teeth as she mentally prepared herself to tell Emily. She knew she had to get it over with. Nip it in the bud before it was real. She couldn’t lose her friend. If she did, she would lose them all. 

It would be all her fault, if things ended badly. All their friends would know that JJ was to blame, Derek would hate her, Hotch too, Spencer would look at her differently, and Penelope would know she made the mistake of being JJ’s friend. 

It would be better if they didn’t start. They didn’t kiss again. No one would get hurt. They could just be friends. Just friends. 

“So you decided to stay friends? Why didn’t you just text her back?”

“I tried. I drafted text after text after text and nothing worked. I just kept deleting it.”

When JJ returned to her parents house—well, her mom’s house now—she picked up her phone, trying to draft a message to Emily. Try as she might, she couldn’t form a coherent sentence. 

“I fucked it up,” JJ admitted to Kennedy. “I thought breaking things off before it started would be better, but I think I made things worse.”

“So you’re not dating her?” 

“No.”

“Look Jen, I’m sorry about your family stuff. That’s hard. My parents split when I was twelve and it seriously fucked me up. I get it. But you gotta get over yourself.”

JJ frowned, feeling offended by the comment, but knew that Kennedy didn’t mean anything by it. She was just like that. 

“You’re not going to make it better by wallowing and lashing out. It’s not healthy, and you’re going to cost us the playoffs. You need to get out of your head.”

Kennedy thought for a minute, seeming to size JJ up on the spot. 

“You know what you need?” Kennedy said. “To get out. See new people. Drink. Have fun.”

This was Kennedy’s solution for everything, but for the first time, JJ didn’t turn the offer down, surprising even herself. 

 ———

JJ gulped her beer, downing it quickly despite the warm foam that swirled in her mouth. She needed to be drunk, like right now. Kennedy seemed to agree, holding the bottle upright to allow the beer flow into JJ’s mouth until she finished the drink.

They were in a dingy frat house, surrounded by miscellaneous athletes. There was a lull before playoffs, for most teams, which meant that the weekend was jam packed with parties. This one was occupied by the soccer teams, men’s basketball, and assorted other players that JJ couldn’t place in her drunken state. 

She wiped her mouth, depositing her bottle on the nearby table, and found herself stumbling somewhat. She was only getting more drunk at this point .  After quite a few rounds of shots before they left Kenendy’s dorm room, JJ was well on her way to being blackout.

JJ was already regretting her decision. With finals and playoffs coming up, she should have been spending this time studying or training. 

But, after days of side looks from Penelope and the sad look in Spencer’s eyes, JJ needed to get out of her residence, away from all the people who knew how much she had fucked it up. Ever since JJ and Emily returned to residence on Sunday, and JJ broke it off, tension between JJ and all of her friends had been palpable.

She had no idea how to fix things, and drinking away her problems seemed like it might actually work. She also knew that after a week of little to no appetite, the alcohol was hitting her harder than it would’ve on a full stomach. 

“Easy girl,” Kennedy laughed, likely even drunker than the blonde. Her bright red hair was straightened, almost unrecognisable to JJ, who was used to the wild frizzy curls she usually sported, and fell halfway down her back. Her blue eyes glinted mischievously as she spotted some people going out for a smoke. 

JJ sighed as Kennedy looked at her pleadingly, knowing the girl wanted to bum a cigarette. She was a notorious drunk smoker. 

“Those will kill you,” JJ warned, as her mind wandered to how she sometimes spotted Emily sitting on the bleachers, smoking alone, lost in thought. She couldn’t explain how something so bad for you could look so hot in the right hands.

“Not if I have just one,” Kennedy said. “I’ll be fine. You need to talk to someone besides me and Jordan. Find a guy. It’ll be good for you.”

JJ sighed. Kennedy and her got along well during practices and were an unstoppable force on the field, but outside of that, they were very different people. Jordan Todd, their mutual friend on the team who played defence, was too busy talking to a group of volleyball players to notice JJ looking at her. 

She ran her eyes around the cramped party, watching masses of bodies writhe to the pounding music. She opened her next beer and took a long swig, swaying slightly to the music, trying to get out of her head and enjoy the party. 

Maybe Kennedy was right. Maybe if JJ could get her mind off Emily, she could focus on just being friends with her. Maybe without all of her romantic feelings clouding her thoughts, JJ could make amends and they could just be friends. 

When Kennedy returned to the party, she had her boyfriend Grant Anderson in tow. He was stocky and had a round face, wearing a polo shirt, khakis and boat shoes like most of the guys at the party. 

JJ greeted him pleasantly, though she was still a little cheesed that he had single-handedly gotten most of the team sick a few weeks ago. 

“We’re getting her laid,” Kennedy announced. 

JJ grimaced as Grant began to list off the eligible bachelors on the water polo team. JJ floundered with her response, deciding instead to gulp down her beer, hoping the alcohol would make this easier.

Before he finished his list, he spotted someone who he clearly decided would be perfect for her. He was tall, muscular, with kind eyes, a perfect man in any other circumstance. 

Kennedy elbowed her in the side as he walked up to him, greeting him with exaggerated excitement and a pointed look to JJ. Despite their previous conversation about JJ’s ambiguous sexuality, Kennedy seemed to have defaulted to setting her up with men. 

He told her his name was Luke, showed her pictures of his dog, and talked to her about how challenging it was to balance being a varsity lacrosse player with academics. He was perfect. The kind of boy that any girl would be thrilled to bring back home to her parents. 

Except JJ couldn’t bring herself to feel any attraction to him. Instead of lust, she pictured herself watching the game with him and eating cheetos.

JJ nodded passively as Kennedy and Grant left her with Luke, trying to focus on the facts about his life. She kicked herself internally, knowing that he seemed smart and kind, and that she shouldn’t be rude, but she couldn’t get Emily out of her mind. Anyways, JJ wasn’t even sure if she even liked men at all. 

As Luke explained his major and minor combo, and how that was going to get him into the FBI some day, JJ’s mind wandered to the thought of running her hands through Emily’s silky black hair.

JJ zoned out, her eyes drifting across the party, wondering where Kennedy, Grant and Jordan had all wandered off to.

As if called, Kennedy walked up with a bottle of jägermeister and some plastic shot glasses. She greeted Luke with a friendly greeting, obviously familiar with the tall lacrosse player.

“Shots?” She asked with a grin. JJ rolled her eyes but couldn’t say no, she was already drunk and the idea of more alcohol sounded like a good idea at the time. 

They downed two shots before Kennedy heard a song that she liked playing over the speakers and she headed back onto the dance floor to find her boyfriend, leaving JJ alone with Luke. 

A girl caught her eye from across the party, leaning casually on the kitchen counter, sipping something amber coloured out of a glass. JJ recognized her from the bar that they went to on trivia nights, her auburn hair cut in a bob and mischievous eyes were unmistakable. She was the bartender, who JJ had, at one point, caught flirting with Emily. 

Now, the girl was making eyes at her. 

JJ looked back to Luke, who was asking her about her major, and her plans for the future. She had to admit that she didn’t really know, and that she was keeping her options open. 

Distracted by the other girl’s presence, JJ’s eyes kept flicking towards the brunette, tracking her as she walked across the room and right up to JJ. 

“Hey there,” the mystery girl said, smiling at JJ and giving Luke a quick wave. 

“Hello,” Luke said with a friendly nod. 

“I think your friend’s looking for a partner,” the girl said, pointing towards one of Luke’s friends who was waving over at him. He was tall and had an oversized navy and yellow varsity jacket. He, like Luke, seemed familiar from other varsity events that JJ had attended, Simon… or Simmons or something like that. 

Before she knew it, Luke was pulled into a beer pong game, giving JJ an apologetic smile and a wave, before leaving her with the brunette. 

The taller girl looked her up and down, blatantly checking her out. 

“What are you drinking?” she asked, gesturing to JJ’s beer. “An IPA?”

“You got it,” JJ said. “You?”

“Tequila sunrise,” she responded. “I like things sweet.”

JJ found herself blushing, as the girl leaned in to say that. The girl's hair was curled, resting just below her ears on her neck in a playful style. She had impressive liquid eyeliner swooping across her lids and a soft nude lipstick on her lips. JJ’s eyes moved south, taking in her low cut blouse and skin tight jeans. 

Her head spun at the sight of her. And at the sheer amount of beer that she had consumed. 

The brunette’s face was soft, tanned. Her eyes large, looking down at her with an impish grin. She was lithe and sultry, and smelled like licorice.  

“Like what you see?” the stranger said, smirking at JJ’s reddening face. “The name’s Elle, I think I’ve seen you around.” 

“Jennifer, but my friends call me JJ,” she said. 

“Well. Jennifer, let's see if we can work up to calling you JJ then, shall we?”

Elle drained the last of her drink, placing the glass on a nearby table. 

“Want to get out of this dump?” Elle asked. 

JJ nodded dumbly, acting without thinking, and followed the girl out of the party, sending Kennedy a quick text as she grabbed her coat. 

JJ: took ur advice! see yuo later

Kennedy didn’t respond, as she was too busy chugging beer from a funnel at the time. 

The two girls walked outside, and within seconds JJ’s face was between Elle’s hands, pulled into a deep, passionate and incredibly sexy kiss. 

JJ acted on autopilot, responding in kind to the other girl’s advances as she pressed JJ up against the brick wall, grinding into her as Elle swiped her tongue against JJ’s. 

Despite feeling unsteady, with the two shots of alcohol hitting her hard, JJ’s stomach flopped at the thought of kissing someone who wasn’t Emily. Half of her wanted to race home, knock on Emily’s door, and beg her forgiveness, but the other half was melting into this stranger’s arms. 

JJ’s blood raced through her veins, and she could feel the need flash across her mind. She wanted this girl, knowing nothing about her. She was there, and she was touching JJ, and it was all she wanted in that moment. 

JJ was also very drunk. Drunker than she had been in a long time. The world spun slightly, and she felt warm despite the frosty air. 

When Elle pulled back, JJ’s lips were swollen and she was desperate for more. 

“Your place or mine?” Elle asked. 

 ———

They tumbled into Elle’s room, hands tugging at clothing and lips connected the entire time. JJ kicked off her shoes and fiddled with her belt, trying to remove obstacles early on in the process. 

Soon Elle was standing in front of her wearing only a pair of jeans and a lacy black bra, the sight of which made JJ acutely aware of the wetness that was pooling between her legs. 

“Take this off,” Elle commanded, tugging on the v-neck blue shirt that JJ had worn, not knowing when she was picking out her outfit that she would actually be going home with someone. 

JJ obeyed, pulling it over her head, revealing a grey sports bra with a white stretchy band that wrapped around her ribcage. Elle pulled her in for another kiss, her mouth demanding and insistent. 

As they kissed, Elle’s deft hands undid the button on her jeans, and pulled down the zipper on her fly. JJ then shimmied her jeans off, leaving her in her underwear as she watched Elle do the same. 

Somehow the other girls movements were elegant and intentional, making the awkward motion of stripping look hot. 

“Bed,” Elle said, guiding JJ onto the edge of her own bed and straddling her. 

Elle lived off campus, in a fairly average apartment. Her room was neat, with only scattered books and a bit of laundry on the ground in the corner. Her bed was soft, but squeaked with their motion. JJ hoped Elle didn’t have any roommates. 

JJ held onto her thighs as Elle kissed down her jaw, before moving her lips to JJ’s pulse point and down her neck. Elle sucked on the soft skin above her collar bone, evoking a surprised moan from JJ. 

Her breathing grew heavy as Elle sucked on her neck and buried her hands in her hair. JJ gripped the brunette's thighs even tighter, before running her arms up and down her spine, tracing the feeling of a woman’s body, almost naked against hers. 

It was a different feeling, having a girl's breast pressed up against hers. The softness of Elle’s face was so different from the roughness of any man's. 

As JJ was lost in thought, an almost tentative hand fiddled with the back of her sports bra. No, not tentative, there was nothing about Elle that was tentative. It was a question, asking for consent to strip JJ’s final layer off. JJ nodded and before she knew it, Elle was pulling the garment smoothly off of her head. 

Elle’s lips went lower, her tongue dragging across the small swell of JJ’s breast and swirled around her nipple.  JJ gasped and clenched her thighs at the sensation, squeezing her eyes shut in pleasure. 

“You’re such a pretty thing,” Elle whispered at her.  

JJ opened her eyes as Elle sucked on her nipple, eliciting a quiet, oh , in surprise. She could feel Elle smiling, a devilish grin of a girl who knew exactly what she was doing. 

Then, she stopped and grinned at her. JJ stared, slack jaw, back at her as her head spun with alcohol and lust. 

Elle patted her thigh, an instruction to get further on the bed, JJ did so, moving up onto it. Elle carefully placed herself on top of JJ, propping herself up by her elbows as she resumed their kiss. 

JJ reached around to Elle’s back, deciding to undo her bra and level the playing field, but she fumbled with the clasp. A blush went to her cheeks as she struggled with the fastener, tugging at it frantically. 

“First time?” Elle asked her, grinning wolfishly down at her. 

JJ couldn't lie, so she just nodded before adding: “With a girl at least.”

“Don’t worry,” Elle whispered. “I’ll show you the ropes.”

She sat on her haunches and one handedly took off her own bra, flinging it somewhere off the bed and staring down at JJ. 

JJ panted as she took all of Elle in, her big eyes, parted lips. Her long neck and graceful swoop of her collar bones. Her round breasts and tanned skin before her. 

A pair of black panties hid the last of Elle from JJ, hugging her hips and teasing her of what lay beneath. 

Elle pulled JJ onto herself, guiding her down with confident hands on JJ’s thighs. They resumed their kiss, now breathy and frantic, their lips crashed together in open mouthed kisses, both girls desperate to get closer.

Elle’s hand grazed her hip, trailing along her thigh and coming to rest between JJ’s legs. JJ’s hips bucked into the touch, grinding down onto Elle’s hand. 

“Someone’s excited,” Elle noted between kisses. 

Elle flipped both of them over, carefully holding JJ’s hip in one hand and head with the other and JJ crashed into the mattress with a gasp. Elle’s thigh fell between hers, making contact with JJ’s sensitive core. 

The brunette kissed her deeply, pushing their bodies together and moving her hips, allowing her thigh to grind against JJ.

The friction sent JJ’s mind buzzing, as she was desperate for more contact. 

“What do you say Jennifer,” Elle whispered in her ear, “Can I take these off of you?”

JJ nodded desperately, as the sound of Elle’s breath right into her ear sent tingles down her spine. 

Elle kissed along JJ’s neck, placing a trail of open-mouth kisses down her chest and stomach, before coming to rest between JJ’s legs. 

JJ felt herself tensing up, nervous about what she knew would come next. 

As if sensing JJ’s hesitation, Elle placed her hand on JJ’s stomach, looking in her eyes with a look that said: relax.

JJ acquiesced, forcing her muscles to relax. Elle wrapped her arms around and under JJ’s legs, spreading them apart and holding them lightly. She then pressed her face into JJ’s left thigh, kissing it in a way that was incredibly arousing. 

JJ gasped, jerking her leg away at the ticklish sensation, only to be held in place by Elle’s calm arm around her thigh. Elle kissed up JJ’s thigh, sucking onto her pale flesh hard enough to leave marks. 

JJ felt herself clenching, as the combinations of sensations and the visual of Elle between her legs was almost too much. She gasped and panted, breathing heavy as all of her nerves were on fire. 

The blonde gripped the sheets, on the verge of begging Elle to just fuck her already , but she couldn’t, she didn’t want that. All of this, all that was leading up to it, was on the cusp of sending her over the edge and she hadn’t even been touched where she needed to yet. 

Elle hovered over JJ’s black panties, her breath coming in pants as she looked up at JJ, her brown eyes almost black in the dim light. Her hot breath made JJ strain forward, but Elle’s hands held her hips flat to the bed. 

“Pl– please,” JJ whimpered. 

At her word, Elle tugged on JJ’s panties, allowing the blonde to lift her hips up as Elle tugged them down and off. 

Now, there was nothing between Elle and JJ. 

The distance was soon closed and Elle greeted her with a long swipe up the centre, then a swirl over JJ’s clit. She almost yelled at the contact, as JJ’s head spun at the sensation of Elle’s mouth on her. 

“You’re so wet for me,” Elle cooed. JJ nodded desperate for her to stop talking and start eating her out. 

And Elle did. And she did it well. 

Elle’s tongue danced across JJ, masterfully seeking out the places that made JJ gasp and moan. She was responsive to each noise that JJ made, and showed her clean talent at bringing another woman pleasure. JJ let go, focusing only on the feelings that Elle was evoking and the way she looked up at her as if checking in. 

After a moment, JJ reached down. She entwined her one hand in Elle’s hair, guiding her up to her clit, desperate for more contact. 

Before this, JJ always thought of oral as a step that she had to get through. It was always sloppy, unsatisfying, nowhere near the feelings she could get with her own hands or with a vibrator. 

But now, as Elle sucked on her clit and moved her tongue across her, JJ didn’t want it to end. Unlike with herself, each moment was unexpected yet still welcome, as Elle moved around, constantly finding new ways to make JJ writhe on the bed. 

Then, when JJ thought she wouldn’t ever feel better than she had, Elle’s right hand moved, and her fingers teased at JJ’s entrance. Elle looked up, checking that it was alright, JJ nodded desperately in response. 

Elle entered her easily with two fingers. They glided into her with no resistance and JJ thought she might come just at the feeling of fullness in combination with Elle’s tongue flicking at her. 

Starting a steady motion that complemented her tongue moving up and down, Elle’s fingers moved in and out of JJ, slowly, almost too slowly. 

As JJ’s breath came heavier, Elle picked up speed, sucking at JJ’s clit and thrusting at an impressive speed. JJ’s hand held onto Elle’s hair for dear life. 

As JJ babbled incoherently, begging Elle to keep going, keep going, keep going, suddenly she could picture Emily on top of her, Emily between her legs and Emily making her see stars. 

JJ came saying Emily’s name. The sensation rolled through her, making her toes curl as she shut her eyes against the feeling. JJ’s lips parted and her body shivered as the orgasm took her. 

She could hear Elle chuckle, but the noise was not enough to break the waves of pleasure that wracked through her body. The brunette didn’t stop her movements, rubbing her fingers down inside JJ as she rode out her orgasm. Nor did she stop sucking on JJ’s clit, as she had her lips wrapped around it, with her tongue rubbing against the centre. 

Without a moment to breathe, JJ suddenly felt a second orgasm coming, building up in her gut and coming as a second wave that washed over her before she even knew it. 

It hit her with less force than the first, but still powerful enough to send her twitching and shuddering. Elle pulled back, allowing JJ to ride her fingers at her own pace.

After a few moments of gasping and panting, JJ opened her eyes to find Elle wiping her hand on a towel and grinning down at her. 

“Wow,” JJ managed, dazed at the feeling of elation that made her skin buzz. 

Elle flopped beside her, reaching over JJ’s prone form towards a plastic reusable water bottle. She unscrewed the cap before offering some to JJ. She took it eagerly, spent and dehydrated from all of the beer. 

“Good?” Elle asked, taking the water then having a sip for herself. 

JJ nodded dumbly, feeling doubly out of it from the alcohol and the sex. 

Elle placed the bottle back down on the desk, then laid down on the bed, facing JJ.

“Who’s Emily?” she asked, way more casually than the question should entail. 

JJ’s face lit up in an even deeper blush than she was already sporting, mortified at the question and the memory of her calling out another girl's name while she was in bed with Elle. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Elle said, “But I don’t do cheating, if that’s what this is.”

“We’re not-” JJ said, stuttering. We’re not what? We’re not anything, yet, she thought. I broke it off before we could be anything. “I’m single, don’t worry.”

“Is she someone you want?” Elle asked. 

JJ nodded, unsure of where this line of questioning would lead. 

“Well, you have a lot to learn then,” Elle mused, “if you’re going to ever please this girl.”

JJ stared at her. 

“From where I’m sitting,” Elle said, “you’ve gone home with some girl—me—to forget about this Emily girl, am I right?”

JJ nodded. 

“But this is also your first time with a girl. So I’m sensing there’s some sort of combination of a will-they-won't-they situation and a sexuality crisis at play. Hence you have something to learn from me.”

“That’s not-”

“Yes it is,” Elle interrupted. “I don’t mind, don’t worry. I’ll show you some of the tricks up my sleeve and this Emily girl will have me to thank.”

JJ stuttered at Elle’s bold words, but didn’t have a single coherent thought to counter the brunette’s argument. She did want Emily. That was all she thought about. It was all so complicated, but here, with Elle, it was so simple. There were no feelings, no friendships, no bridges to burn, just sex. 

“So, are you ready to learn?” Elle said, a daring look in her eye as her finger trailed along JJ’s stomach. 

JJ nodded. 

“Come on then.”

She obeyed, climbing onto Elle and kissing her deeply before moving lower, her hand creeping down to graze the brunette’s thigh. 

“Don’t worry,” Elle said, “I’ll guide you through it.”

——— 

JJ woke up that morning to a splitting headache and a stomach that gave her the feeling that her bed was a ship lost at sea, tilting under the force of the ocean, making her nothing but seasick. But, she wasn’t in a boat, she was in a bed, and she was not in her own.

She squinted against the daylight, cracking open her eyes and blinking hard. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, holding her head steady as the headache throbbed and left her disoriented. 

The large bay window was not hers, and the sleeping girl next to her was unfamiliar. But, the first thought in JJ’s mind was not either of these facts, it was the question of where the bathroom was, because she was about to yak. 

JJ tried to stand, but the room was spinning so she braced herself with the desk that was right next to the bed, and she stumbled across the room, into the hall, where she saw the bathroom. 

Not bothering to close the door behind her, JJ knelt and puked into the toilet. Some of the drinks from the night before came up, the bile feeling like fire in her throat and mouth. She heaved into the toilet, her eyes stinging with tears as she was forced to reckon with the sheer amount of alcohol that she had consumed at the party. 

When her stomach had finally settled, JJ curled up on the floor, as the tears spilled down her cheeks. 

She could barely remember the majority of the night before, but from what she could remember, it didn’t paint her in a very good light.

She had fucked someone else, and whoever this girl was, JJ could remember snippets of the evening and knew she had royally messed up. 

Elle stood in the doorway with a glass of water, knocking lightly on the doorframe to announce her presence. JJ blinked up at her, mortified by her current predicament. 

“Don’t tell me I got you pregnant,” Elle quipped, squatting and holding out the glass to JJ, who laughed half-heartedly and took it. JJ was relieved that at least she remembered the brunette’s name, that was a good sign.

Sipping the water, she swished it around in her mouth before spitting it out in the toilet. She then took another sip, swallowing it and relishing the cool feeling in her throat, mentally begging her body not to throw it up. 

“You ok?” Elle asked, standing up. 

JJ shrugged. 

“Probably should have said no to that last beer,” JJ said hoarsely. “I should go.”

JJ stood, her legs feeling shaky and the world still feeling like it was spinning slightly. She was still mostly naked, only wearing her underwear and an unfamiliar t-shirt, which was presumably Elle’s. 

Bright red blotches were visible above the fabric, gracing her collarbones and the right side of her neck with an array of hickies. JJ gasped and prodded at them, shocked at the angry red that was bright against her pale skin. 

Her hair was a mess; the once-perfect blonde waves were mussed and tangled. There were large bags under her eyes and a wild look in her eyes. 

The realization of what she had done sent another urgent feeling of nausea through her. She hurriedly rejected Elle’s offers of coffee, or breakfast, and raced out of her apartment building. 

 ———

After a chilly walk through the student village, under the bright grey November light, JJ stumbled back to residence. She was wearing only the outfit she had worn out which didn’t do much against the cool fall breeze than it had last night with the warm buzz of alcohol in her system. 

JJ stared at the ground her entire walk home, mortified with her leather jacket, high heeled boots, and low cut shirt. She was clearly on a walk of shame that Sunday morning. 

Her outfit also did absolutely nothing to hide the bright red marks that crept up her neck. She had been too drunk to think about the consequences of letting Elle suck on her skin, and now had to face the consequences. 

You’re ok, she said to herself. All you have to do is make it to your room. You have some concealer there, and turtlenecks. If you make it there you’re safe, no one will know.

She hurried up the stairs, unlocking the door to the second floor and speeding down the hall. She thanked god that her hair was long enough, so when she passed some people in the hall, she just lowered her head and looked away, hoping that no one looked at her too closely. 

JJ was lucky that even though she had made a lot of mistakes that night, she still had her keys and her phone. She had her lanyard around her neck, ready to unlock her door, and there she would be home free. 

Just as she reached her room, having to stop herself from sprinting down the hall, the door across the hall opened. JJ tensed up, key still in the lock, knowing exactly who was there.

She turned, forgetting about the marks on her neck, and looked at a steel-faced Emily Prentiss, looking at her with a blank expression in her eyes.

She was dressed for the day, wearing dark jeans, a baggy hoodie, and cordless headphones in her ears. 

“Hello,” she said cooly, the simple word sending hurt into JJ’s gut. 

“Hey,” JJ said, it sounded more like a croak than a word. 

Emily’s eyes flicked down to her neck, widening at the sight. JJ gulped, realizing that Emily knew exactly what JJ had done the night before, the evidence clear all over her. 

“I gotta go,” Emily said tersely, “I’m going to be late.”

And with that, Emily marched down the hall, without another word to JJ. 

JJ unlocked her door, pushed it open, then her legs gave way and she fell in a puddle of her own tears, sobs wracking her whole body. 

“JJ, what’s wrong?!” Penelope gasped, leaping up from her office chair and kneeling down in front of JJ. 

She couldn’t make a sound, her embarrassment and anger at herself manifesting in angry sobs. Penelope wrapped her arms around JJ and allowed her to cry, patting her hair and holding her close.

“I’m so sorry,” JJ managed, knowing the person she was really apologizing to couldn’t hear her.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

the small intestines squirm like eels

[Tour!verse]

TW: Period talk

——————

Joan wasn’t feeling good in the first place.

She groaned before her eyes were even open that morning. She cringed when she rolled over, feeling hot slickness between her thighs, and didn’t even want to look at the crime scene that she already knew was lying beneath her blankets. Remaining in the mess, however, was plain gross. It was going to be painful to stand, but if she lays in bed for too long then the fabric will stain, so she has no other choice but to haul herself up and save the bedding.

As if it were that easy.

Joan liked to describe the feeling she just went through as “the floodgates opening” because that’s exactly what it was. She was forced to kneel when the pain flares up, which only seemed to strengthen the flow when her knees parted and her vagina seemed to feel the need to open like a window during a hurricane. She prayed for her ruined undergarments and pajama shorts, which are sticky and wet around her legs, clinging tightly to her skin like they had been glued there.

Eventually, she gets herself to stand and, with trembling hands, carefully and quietly strips the sheets of the bed, relieved to find that the blood hasn’t soaked through to the mattress. She stumbles out of her bedroom, trying to keep the bloodstained part of the sheets angled forward and away from the rest of her body, but her groin was already sopping wet with what was probably twenty-five percent of her body’s blood, so hygiene didn’t really matter in the long run. On the short walk to the washing machine, she feels a slow drizzle of blood ooze its way down her leg and she had to suddenly urge to cut off her entire bottom half just so she wouldn’t have to feel her liquidated shredded uterus tickling against her skin.

Walking is uncomfortable, carrying fish-smelling sheets covered in her own blood isn’t any better, and the wet fabric of her shorts chafe horribly. It only gets worse when she has to stand up on her toes to grab the bottle of detergent on the shelf and she feels her stomach cramp, just to add it to it all.

Joan braces herself up against the washing machine once she starts it, trying to breathe through a particularly bad bouts of cramps. When she finally steps backwards, she cringes at the gross squelching from between her legs- her thighs are so wet she’s sure they’re going to be permanently stained red.

She awkwardly hobbled to the bathroom with fresh clothes and cleans herself up. She considers burning her shorts and undergarments, but she just throws them in the hamper for now (was it good to put them with the other dirty clothes? She didn’t know).

The hot shower she takes helps some, but only when she laid back on her back and let the scalding water patter against her pale, aching abdomen. However, the moment she moved, the cramps seized her lower stomach in a vice grip once again.

All she really wanted to do is curl up in a ball and cry.

But alas. She had a show to run, so she eventually hauled herself up, got ready, and walked to the theater.

In just a few minutes of her trek, the sharp cramps in her stomach had become violent spasms and the dull aching in her back turned into an intense, radiating burn. She was both sick with hunger and too nauseous to eat the granola bar she put in her bag two days ago. Her bladder and bowels ached. She was sweating from the pain of it all, but also shivering and weak from anemia. And, to top it all off was the gross, hot feeling of her uterus being filled to the absolute brim with blood and pressing uncomfortably up against her lower stomach with so much pressure she thought she would burst if the fluids weren’t deposited.

Needless to say, Joan felt like death warmed over with an extra pinch of suffering.

Somehow, she still found herself at the theater thanks to pure muscle memory alone, despite how sick and horrible and disgusting she felt. As much as she wanted to spend the whole day curled up in bed while cuddling her pillow close to her stomach, she knew she couldn’t skip out on rehearsals just because it was her time to suffer the teeth of shark week. The queens and other three ladies in waiting, as well as the female crew members, all suffered through their own every month- hell, they could be bleeding right now as well- and they were able to function just fine, although Bessie does have a tendency to not talk or move around too much, or simply not go out at all. Joan didn’t want to be that girl, especially since the director didn’t like it when someone chickens out just because of a little leaky vagina and stomach pain.

Though, that sounded like an impossible feat with the way that her frame shook from the exertion of standing alone. Joan’s whole body was as heavy as lead, everything in her entire being hurt, and it was all swirling in a kaleidoscope of pain until all she could focus on was how bad she felt. She was sure she could faint- could already feel the faintest numbness slowly creeping in on the edges of her consciousness, but she held strong until she just couldn’t anymore.

One of the worst cramps she’s ever felt in her entire young life hit her when she was in the middle of playing Don’t Lose Ur Head. She had been doing good at giving her usual commands during rehearsals and playing the first two songs, however, her concentration was rudely interrupted when the ovaries at the end of her Fallopian tubes seemed to morph into claws and viciously stab her from the inside, causing her to slam her hands down on the keys of the keyboard and completely ruin the song.

Joan didn’t feel the hot embarrassment that filtered through her- the pain in her stomach overpowered every other sensation in her body. She could, however, miraculously still see through the raging storm of black spots across her vision and saw Anne on the other side of her keyboard, looking absolutely annoyed and confused, like she could see the invisible ovary-claws goring their way out of Joan’s abdomen. The way the queen’s mouth opened and closed as she searched for something to say to the clearly-distressed MD might have made Joan laugh if it weren’t for the fact that laughing pulled the muscles in her stomach even tighter until it felt like they would snap.

“What happened?” Anne finally said.

“Nothing,” Joan grits. She hopes they can’t see the way she’s clutching at her stomach with one hand. “I’m fine-” Nobody has asked if she was okay. “Just- Just give me a moment.”

Anne frowned, probably from annoyance, but nodded and started to converse with Jane.

Joan swallowed thickly and only then realized how thirsty she was. Her water bottle was in her dressing room (she never brought liquids anywhere near her keyboard). She would have to stand up and go get it herself because there was no way she would ask one of the others for help. Not like they would say yes, anyway.

She took several deep breaths and then stood up- too fast. She stood up too fast and now the room is spinning and she needs to regain her balance but there’s nothing to brace herself on.

Joan ends up tottering awkwardly to the side, not seeing all the amused looks she gets because of the stars that flit across her vision. After a moment of awkward floundering, how to walk properly comes back to her and she exits the room, not saying where she was going or why she was walking out on rehearsals.

The theater hallways felt like they were closing in on her. They seemed to be shifting and swaying and crushing her until she couldn’t breathe. Upon stumbling into her dressing room, however, they release her trembling body.

Joan staggers over to her desk (which she careens into on accident) and picked up her water bottle. For once, she wasn’t drinking coffee. In fact, the thought of caffeine repulsed her. All she wanted was the coolness of the water, so she raised the bottle to her lips and-

Hot.

She was hot. She was so hot, so she tips back a bit further and pours the water over her face. She instinctively sucks at the moisture spilling out over her skin, desperate to quench her thirst, but her brain was now more set on cooling her body before it got cooked inside of her skull.

When most of the water is gone, only then does Joan realize what she’s doing. She jerks up, agitating her stomach and sending a wave of queasiness over her. A hand slaps over her mouth and she holds perfectly still until the nausea recedes, only to be replaced with a horrible cramp. She whimpers and hunches over her desk, feeling simultaneously burning hot and freezing cold. Shivers start to wrack through her body- or had she been shivering this entire time?

There was no time to dwell on this, however, because footsteps were approaching. Joan tried to push herself up and act like she was about to walk out, but she couldn’t move. Not that it would have mattered, anyway. She didn’t have a good excuse for why her face and hairline and shirt were all wet.

“Joan?”

The slightly Welsh-tinged accent lets Joan knew that it was Aragon she would have to face. She liked to think that she and the queen had a good relationship, but she didn’t know how she would manage against the frightening lady while like this.

“Joan.”

Her name was said louder this time. Not as a question. It was a call- a demand.

“I-” Her voice breaks off. If she tried to speak again it would come out as a whimper. And Aragon hearing that was really not something she wanted to have happen.

Footsteps approach her desk- Aragon is walking towards her. She held her ragged breath, hoping the queen would just go away. But then there’s a hand on her tense back and a tutting noise above her and she knows she’s in for it now.

“My, are your muscles tight.” Aragon crooned from above. She began to massage the area between Joan’s shoulder blades with the heel of her palm, eliciting a sharp gasp from the music director. “What’s going on with you?”

“I’m sorry.” Joan instinctively blurted.

“That’s not what I asked, Juana.”

That was her name in Spanish, wasn’t it? Oh dear. She was in for it now.

Joan shyly looked up at Aragon, who had a surprisingly patient look on her face. Usually the queen would blow her top if someone didn’t reply to her within seconds. Why wasn’t she snapping?

“Well?” Aragon raised an eyebrow.

“I-I...” Joan swallowed thickly. Her cheeks are growing hot by the moment- she wouldn’t be surprised if any water left on her face turned to steam with how hard she was blushing. “I just- I need a moment, that’s all.”

Suddenly, the back of a hand is pressed to her cheeks and she squeaked in alarm. Her blush darkens from hot pink to deep red.

“You’re very warm.” Aragon murmured, concern leaving her voice. Her hand slide up to feel the girl’s forehead. That’s exactly when she notices one of Joan’s hands gripping at her stomach.

A smirk spreads across her lips.

“Oh.” She tittered. “I see.”

Joan froze. Red really didn’t go well with her platinum blonde hair.

“I’m sorry.” She stuttered out. Shame overpowers the cramps. She doesn’t know which one she hates more.

Aragon chuckled and started to walk for the door without another word. The fear of her telling the others sends Joan scrambling after her and latching tightly to her sleeve.

“W-wait!” Joan cried, her voice raising up a few octaves. “P-please don’t tell them! Please, Aragon, I’ll do anything!”

Aragon blinked before she realized what Joan meant. She gently cups either sides of her the girl’s heated face.

“Hush, darling.” Aragon told her. “I’m going to get you some medicine, alright? Just lay down on the couch and wait for me.”

Joan opened and closed her mouth before relenting and nodding. She slumped over on the couch after Aragon left, and that’s when the cramps decide to make themselves known again.

Aragon is only gone for a minute and a half and Joan’s delirium-riddled mind has already began to hiss horrible words of abandonment. Things like: Aragon had lied to her and was telling everyone else or she was just acting like she cared and won’t come back for her. Tears start to brim in Joan’s eyes as the degrading thoughts grew louder and louder. She couldn’t even hear the door to her dressing room open back up again due to how much they screech.

“Juana, Juana, sweetheart,” A hand is gently pressing on her shoulders. “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

Joan’s glossy eyes widen. She saw that Aragon kneeling there, expression twisted with worry. She tries to get to her, but the queen pushes her back down.

“Don’t move.” Aragon scolded lightly.

“Aragon-”

“Shh, shh,” Aragon hushed her, stroking the girl’s messy, wet hair. “I’m right here, darling. You’re alright.”

“No, no-” One hand moves to grip back at her stomach as Joan shook her head. “It hurts too much, Aragon. I think I’m dying...”

“Don’t be daft,” Aragon said. She notices the embarrassed flush that flames on Joan’s face and she gently caresses her cheek to quell her shame. “Eve’s curse is a terrible one. But I have some medicine here for you.”

She has two pills of Ibuprofen in her hands. She looks back at Joan pitifully.

“I assume you didn’t take anything.”

Joan shook her head slowly.

“Oh, you poor thing...”

“I-I forgot to buy some.” Joan stuttered out weakly. She couldn’t remember if that was true or not. Maybe she just didn’t care enough about her body to by medicine for herself?

“We’ll have to change that whenever you feel better. We can get you proper groceries.” Aragon decided. “For now, take these.”

With minimal difficulty, Joan manages to swallow the pills with the water bottle Aragon she also provided (and this time she didn’t pour it all over herself). She slumped back down on the couch, panting. Heat flashes are becoming more common by the minute. She wants to peel her clothes off, and then her skin, but even then she probably won’t be cool.

“I don’t think- I don’t think I can go back to work.” Joan whispered hoarsely. “I’m sorry, Aragon. It- it hurts too much. And I’m so hot... I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Shh...” Aragon murmured. “I understand, pumpkin. I’ll let the others know, alright? You just stay here and rest up.”

“Y-you’re leaving me?” Joan squeaked.

Aragon frowned and she gently strokes Joan’s hair to calm her.

“I have to get back to rehearsals. But I’ll come check on you soon, alright? Then I’ll take you home.”

Joan nodded begrudgingly. She couldn’t hold Aragon back. Besides, a nap sounded nice, anyway...

—

Joan doesn’t really remember drifting off. Nor does she remember being woken up and escorted out to a taxi by a golden angel, but, somehow, she’s in her flat when she wakes up and the wonderful smell of something is wafting through the air.

When she tries to sit up, a cramp stabs at her and she collapses back down with a hiss. Dizziness washes over her and she waits for the world to stop spinning. There’s a face peering down at her when she opens her eyes again.

“There’s my sweet girl.” Aragon purred, smiling lovingly. She chuckles at the way Joan blinked up at her adorably. She helps her sit up. “Have a good nap?”

“Mhm...” Joan replied sleepily. She looked around. “How...?”

“You don’t remember coming home?” Aragon tilted her head. “You really were tired, huh?”

“I guess so...” Joan said, then winced. She squeezed her aching stomach tightly. “Ow ow ow...”

Aragon quickly retrieves some more painkillers and a glass of water, which Joan gratefully takes. She also notices that the queen is offering her a tampon and she blushed shyly.

“Oh, I- I don’t use tampons.”

Aragon furrowed her eyebrows.

“They scare me.”

Aragon blinked. Joan quickly jumped up and hurried to the bathroom. She heard laughter from behind her and she couldn’t help but smile giddily at the fact that her flat with filled with such a sound. She wasn’t alone.

So, when she came out of the bathroom, the first thing she did was hug Aragon from behind as she was preparing lunch and whisper her thanks. Aragon replied by setting her hands over Joan’s own and squeezing lightly and, from her soothing touch, the dull pain in Joan’s stomach ebbs completely.

[siriusist]

You said you love skincare over makeup: me too! What's your favorite brands? :)

I have extremely sensitive skin that is prone to cystic acne due to my hormones being out of whack due to endometriosis, so I have to be very careful about the brands I use for either skincare OR makeup, and it took me a long time to realise that, and lean more into cultural beauty routines that take skincare over makeup (For example, Korean beauty or more traditionalist Swedish beauty, a la Ingrid Bergman, who famously never wore a stitch of makeup if she could help it and her skin was just that lovely that she didn’t have to). I’m also very aware of overt fragrances, stripping agents like alcohol (Baby Lauren was not; and thought drying out your skin equaled less acne; yikes), and any harsh additives. 

Sunscreen:

I’ve always taken sun care extremely seriously, as both my mother and my grandmother have had skin cancer before, so I’m most likely predisposed to having it. This has led to some unintentionally hilarious results of being the palest person in the world who plays beach volleyball both professionally (back in the day) and competitively (now, or before the COVID hit). I always wear long sleeves on the beach unless I have time to completely apply sunscreen, and am a snob when it comes to sunscreens as well. They can’t cause a breakout, leak into my eyes due to sweat, any of that good stuff. 

My sunscreen recommendations:

 (Note: And I literally get them from all over the world, so get ready, because I probably cover something available in your town/country. I’ve lived in Australasia, North America, and Europe, so I’ve pretty much covered a large part of the world in my travels xD)

Face:

Mychelle Pharmaceuticals SPF 28 in Coconut (Unfortunately only an American brand, but I literally get it shipped to a P.O. box near Canada so I can go across the line to get it. It’s that good. XD Doesn’t melt, dries quickly, unsure how it would look on darker skin than ghost white, but still doesn’t give me any sort of cast).

Innisfree Daily UV Protection Cream No Sebum: Literally a steal at twelve bucks, but DOES cause the dreaded white cast. Anti-acne and also settles down really well on the skin. I’m luckily pale enough that if I layer makeup over it, it usually doesn’t look as bad, but I’ve heard a lot of POC say they love the texture, but it gives them that ashy-white look (See below for some skincare brands I’ve heard are better for this for POC). 

Body:

Bioderma Photoderm SPF 50+ UVA and UVB Lait protection élevée: This is a really popular French sunscreen that doesn’t move and stays firm after you apply it and it dries down. It’s a high SPF quality, and I can find it in Canada, but I also obviously saw it in France when I was there as well. France is another country that really seems to follow the ‘If you have great skin you don’t really need makeup do you” train.

MooGoo Skincare (Generally and their sunscreen): This was my go to in Australia: I’d have to reapply it often because otherwise you would get burned, but Australia also has a gigantic hole in the ozone layer so it isn’t exactly helping itself. xD But it’s a local Aussie brand, it’s natural, and it’s great and relatively cheap (although you can order it worldwide I believe and they have a US based website if you’re in the states). I also love their leave in hair conditioner, as well as their self-tanner. They also send you great testers with it, and have great mineral-based makeup if you’re keen.

Coola SPF 30 Sunscreen Spray Pina Colada: This is my go to spray on for playing sports last summer. It’s natural, smells good, is expensive, but it lasted me an entire summer playing beach volleyball most days at the beach, and I still have some left over.

Some of my top other skincare recommendations I’d recommend otherwise would be:

My Current Routine:

- Dermalogica Special Cleansing Gel (everyday)

- Dermalogica Overnight Clearing Gel (everyday)

- Dermalogica Microdermabrasion (everyday)

- Mychelle Cosmetics: SPF 28 Coconut (everyday)

- Clinique Oil Control Gel with Uneven Skin Tone Pump (everyday)

- Lush Eye Cream (optional)

- Benton Aloe Vera Gel (optional if my skin is feeling dry)

- Bioderma Photoderm 50+ for my body sunscreen  (everyday)

(Note: I also use a micellar water to clear eye makeup if I use it, and occasionally the Thayers toner if I have it on hand, but it’s not essential to my routine, and I don’t use eye makeup that often).

Dermalogica:  Expensive as all hell, but it’s literally the only thing that I can get a ‘wash and go’ effect from. Their Special Cleansing Gel is the only face wash I’ve been able to use for more than three to four months without having to switch it up from my skin throwing it’s own mini revolution. xD The one thing I could say is that their Cleansing Gel LITERALLY lasts forever. I have a gigantic pump which is 88 dollars (YIKES), but it’s lasted me literally seven months without having to change products and buying usually amount in cheaper skincare, going to the dermatologist, or having to get further medication from my doctor for my skin (I take an antibiotic to keep my skin at bay as well). It’s literally worth the money of me searching and floundering about buying cheaper options that make my skin break out that progressively add up to the full amount of the Dermalogica/ avoiding dermatologist appointments, so that’s how I justify it. So while it makes me cringe every time I buy it, it really is worth it if you’re washing it two times a day (There’s also a 250ml size for 55 bucks Canadian on Sephora if you want to give it a go for less commitment, and that usually lasts for a good two months on its own).

I also use their Overnight Clearing Gel for my acne (also expensive), and I can do without, but do like, their microdermabrasion scrub, which also lasts forever. I also forgot to mention that this is the stuff coming straight from The International Dermal Institute, so they know what they’re doing. 

Others I enjoy:

Klairs: My (relatively) cheap routine if I’m running low on funds for the month. They have a great body-based soap bar if you have body acne (Which I usually don’t, but if I’m doing a lot of beach volleyball in the summer, gremlins in the sand fuck with my skin, I swear to god). 

Innisfree: Great based routines, and if you’re able to actually go to a store to get skin-matched, they have some amazing stores in Australasia. I use their sheet masks often.

Benton: Their aloe vera-based products are amazing for skincare; I use them usually in lieu of a body lotion.

Thayers: Their unscented toner is the only toner I trust, and it’s usually on sale at a drugstore.

Mychelle Cosmetics: As mentioned above, it’s responsible for my daily sunscreen; unfortunately, you can only get it in the States (Which is why I literally have a P.O. box across the border in America where I go to pick it up from because I live about fifteen minutes from the US-Canada border. Seriously, it’s that good).

 MooGoo: As mentioned above.

 Clinique: An oldie, but a goodie. Their skincare routine doesn’t have the same effect on my face like Dermalogica, but if I’m in a financial pinch and need something to hold me over at the mid-point price level, I still turn to Clinique. I still use their gel as my moisturiser, and they now have this new ‘mix and match’ program with Emilia Clarke as their promo-woman. I’ve heard the shade range for the BB cream-based moisturiser is terrible, even for white ladies, but I just got their Oil-Control gel with an ‘uneven skin tone’ top mixed in to address acne-scarring, and I’ve already seen some good results.

 Biotherma: See above.

La-Roche Posay: The routine my dermatologist recommended as a top professor of skincare at a leading hospital related to a university in Australia. It’s very gentle, and their Effaclar another mid-level price routine.

St Ives: If I’m really poor, I go for St. Ives. I don’t use their scrubs, because they use walnut shells on their that can literally rip up your face, but I do like their body wash, body lotion, and they recently released a cleanser with camomile which is calming for the face. It’s not as good as the Dermalogica stuff, but for cheap and for no harsh alcohols or chemicals, plus making a move towards being cruelty-free, I think St. Ives is trying to revamp their brand a bit after that bad press they had concerning #walnutgate. xD

Lush: Another cheaper option (although not really, because Lush usually gauges you for more than you’d pay for a proper Clinique cleanser for a bar of soap/ once you’ve got your full routine together). That being said, I do like their eye cream. I’m in my mid-twenties now, so I’m starting to try to do more preventative skincare.

Mario Badescu: I still use their acne spot treatment if I have a really terrible zit, and it’s gone the next morning.

Other brands I’ve heard good things about:

First Aid Beauty (I want to try their tinted sunscreen for summer)

Supergoop (Apparently their mineral sunscreen is really great for POC, as it doesn’t give the dreaded WHITE CAST)

Shiseido (A classic Japanese brand)

Keihls (Another one I’ve heard great things about but is more expensive)

Ren Clean Skincare (Another skincare brand I want to try).

So hopefully this gives you some ideas to try, nonny, and hopefully this helps someone. xD -shrug-

[cherryeol04]

Action! | Ch. 4

Genre: Humor, Romance, Slice of life?, Crackheadedness  Pairings: BaekRen, MinRon Work Count: 1.5K Summary:  From the moment he was casted, Ren wasn't sure if he had what it would take to be a pop idol. Losing faith in himself, he was going to give up the future he had always wanted, but one person stood by his side and renewed his faith. After a hot debut and rapid growth of stardom, Ren started to notice that maybe this person, his close friend, was something more. But how could a straight man even remotely think of a homosexual relationship? Warnings: Homophobia, some smut (chapters will be marked) A/N: I wrote this series back in 2012 and used OCs and over the top writing style for arguments. Whoops. Lmao it’s pretty decent though, so I hope you enjoy!

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Ren’s POV

~*~ 1 year Later~*~

Staring at myself in the mirror, I was kicking Noona so hard in my mind. Whose bright idea was it to dye my hair blond? Wasn’t it bad enough I looked feminine with brown hair, now I have to look even more girly?

“It’s what the fans want. They love feminine looking idols. They’re the ones with the biggest fan base. With this new look, you’ll be rocketed to stardom.”

God damn manager-hyung. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to him. I should have just declined. How can I go on like this? I’ll be a laughing stock. I’ll give my mom a heart attack if she sees me like this. Her precious son turned into a woman. I’m probably going to hell for this too. The others…they don’t understand. Well, Minhyun was slightly feminine, but not a lot. And he got to keep his hair the same. Dongho…his hair was blond now, but it made him look stronger. He didn’t look like the cute kid I hung out with during trainee days. He was strong, sexy…

That’s not gay to think right? It was okay to think of another man as sexy?  Not sexy as in ‘I want to date him’, because I certainly do not! But sexy as in I envy his looks and wish I could look like him. I feel the same with Jonghyun. He had this goofy feel about him, but he was sexy, especially when he was posing for pictures.

God, why can’t I be like them? Strong, sexy, handsome? I’m just some girl now. Growling, I swung my leg, kicking the top of the vanity, making make-up noona jump.

“Sorry.” I apologized, blushing. Anger Minki! Anger! I can’t believe how much I’ve changed and we haven’t even debuted yet. I can’t be like this, but I can’t be myself either. I want to be the goofy, happy, playful maknae that I am. But Jonghyun and Dongho, they already have that title. So what am I then? The silent one? The cold one? That’s not an image I want our potential fans to have of me.

Closing my eyes, I leaned back as the make-up was applied. I was so tired. We had been working so hard for the past few months. Our debut was only a week away and dance practice was getting longer and longer. Everything had to be perfect. Teasers for our debut had been released and YouTube was exploding already. All our potential fans were waiting so eagerly to actually see us, to listen to us. Oh, the pressure!

Opening my eyes, I stared at myself once more now that the make-up was put on. Cursing, I swung my leg again and hit the vanity, making others jump. Blushing, I bowed and apologized.  Damn it, now I really was girly. I don’t think I can do this. There was no way I could do this!

“Looking good Minki.” Aron spoke as he walked over. Aron, god I remember the first time I met the other. He hadn’t known a lick of Korean, and now, thanks to Dongho’s help, he was almost fluent. He still stumbled and made a fool of himself, but it was understandable. He was still learning, so we couldn’t hold it against him.

“Not really.” I said as I leaned in, fixing the hairs that fell over my eyes. I had to see it after all. I think they needed to be curled a bit more and lifted a bit higher, or cut shorter. “I look so damn girly.”

“Yeah.” Aron said like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You look good. You’re cute and adorable; you give us a lot of fame. After your teaser was released, the number of views for yours alone was crazy high. It’s going to be okay.” He said and patted my shoulder.

How was this going to be okay? I felt like screaming at the moment. None of them looked like me. I know I’m going to be hit on; it’s just going to be so ridiculous. “I’m going to quit.”  

“Don’t quit. Give it a chance.” Aron said. “Okay? You’ll be fine.” He patted my shoulder once more before leaving my side and I sighed heavily. This is not going to be alright, it’s not. I’m going to die of embarrassment, we’re going to flounder and no one will even know our name.

Leaning forward in the chair, I covered my face with my hands, though I was careful not to smudge the make-up. ‘Breath in, breath out. In. Out. In. Out.’ That was my mantra for the past few weeks now and it worked most of the time like it was now. I just needed to gather my thoughts and think positively. I can do this…I can do this…

“Everyone on set!”

Lifting my head, I stared at the staff member before looking back as the other members stood and headed for the set of our first music video. Following suit, I followed behind them, moving slowly, taking in the set. Staring at the chairs, the backup dancers, the lights, it was overwhelming.

I can’t do this!

Turning on my heel, I started heading back for the dressing room when I felt a hand grabbing my wrist. Stopping, I looked back, staring at the familiar smiling face. “Let go.”

“Where are you going?” Dongho asked.

“To take this make-up off and go home.” I told him, jerking my arm from him.

“Why?” He looked so confused and worried. That’s what I liked about him, he always worried about me. After making our alliance, we stuck close together. Eventually, Aron had been dragged into our small group because of his lack of Korean. We had three members then, and then it was just natural that my friend Minhyun and Dongho’s friend Jonghyun joined us. We were like a perfectly formed group, and the CEO thought the same thing. That’s how Nu’est was formed.

“I can’t do this. I can’t take this look and I know I’ll mess up the dance and what if my voice cracks when we debut?”  All these thoughts were rushing in my head. They were thoughts that I have been trying to repress for weeks now, but now, after seeing the set, they all came rushing back.

“Yes, you can.” Dongho said.

“No, I can’t. Dongho I can’t. This is going to be so easy for you. You have the voice, the talent. What do I have? A feminine look. That’s why I was casted.”  I told him. He started laughing. He was laughing at me, the ungrateful hyung. So I punched him in the arm.

“Ow!” he groaned, rubbing the spot. He stared at me and sighed, resting his hands on my shoulders. “Choi Minki, you have more than just a feminine look. Yeah, manger-hyungs are playing with that to boost our popularity, but you’re more than that.” He told him. “You have a wonderful voice, you can dance well. You were the one that learned all the routine the fastest. You are talented Minki.” He assured me.

Looking away, I shook my head. I can’t look at him, not when he was being so serious and compassionate. This was why Dongho was my best friend. He said the right things that I needed to hear when it mattered.  “Then why do I feel like I’m not?” I asked weakly, my eyes still averted.

“Because you don’t believe in yourself.” His answer was so simple and so true. I felt his fingers gripping my chin and forcing my head to turn, so I looked at him. It was hard, once I saw his face. His eyes, they were shining with such happiness, with such…belief.  “I believe in you Minki. You’ve got this.” He assured me.

“You think so?” I asked. I just had to be sure. I needed to hear the reassurance once more.

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t say so. Besides, we got picked to be in this group. We rose high above all the other trainees that were fighting for this spot.” He said. “We were picked Minki. You were picked. You have what the company is looking for, what the fans want. You may look girly, but you’re very sexy.” He told me and I could feel my cheeks heating up. That sounded so gay coming from him, but it felt nice to be considered sexy when I didn’t think I was.

“Own it Minki. Own your new image. You’re not Choi Minki, the shy little maknae anymore. You’re Ren, the sexy, hot maknae with looks that has every woman green with envy.”

I smiled. He’s right. I have to own my new image. I can’t sit here and point out the flaws, or the flaws I think it has. I’m hot, I’m sexy. I’m Ren, and I’m going to blow them all out of the water. Dongho was right, he was always right and I was so thankful to have him by my side. I don’t think I could live without his encouragement.

“You’re right. I can do this.” I said with a firm nod.

“Great, now let’s go before we get fired.” He teased and headed for the main set, chuckling. Shaking my head, I followed after him. Taking in a deep breath, I calmed my nerves as I took my spot.

I can do this…I can do this…

I.  Am. Ren.

Tags:  @straysrachaa​@lordseochangbin @channiesmixtape @starryseung @felixsanxchatbot @jisungsjheekies (if you want to be added to my tag list, comment here! )

[chyrstis]

Just roll with it

This was really just an excuse to draft up an odd occurrence in-game (How many ways can a hostage van rescue go wrong? Many), and to have Sharky continue to be his lovely self. It was also time to write some Faith, and everything fell into place from there.

Rating: T Word Count: 5.9K

Link to AO3!

___

The plan was to hit Boshaw Manor before heading north. Grab some supplies, a working car, and figure it out from there. Sadly, her plans never seem to survive the first draft.

____________________

Her truck was toast.

Hana had known that riding in, and now with Sharky with her, the two were faced with a new dilemma; needing some serious wheels to get from point A to point B.

With most of his supplies back at his place, it meant backtracking there first before heading further north. Sharky’s own truck had gone up in a fireball a day before she’d found him, but it hadn’t phased him at all. It’d been his third that week, mostly due to cultists constantly patrolling the open roads, and he kept on trading them up as they became available. …While the others were reduced to flaming wrecks.

Neither she nor Sharky had actually been able to keep their hands on a working vehicle for longer than a week so far in Hope County. At least not since things had well and truly gone to hell in a handbasket. She wondered what that said about the two of them.

The fight back at Moonflower had been hell on both of them, and even if he wasn’t anywhere near as wiped as she was, she did see some of his energy starting to flag. Having to lug around his flamethrower plus the fuel for it without having a place to stash it otherwise was a full-on endurance sport.

That did not stop his ability to talk her ear off, however. It was strange not being the one to fill the silence for once, listening to him tell her about anything and everything that caught his fancy.

How down by a creek he’d found a cool lizard that had given him a rash on his junk for a week after he’d hid it in his pants so he could show it off to his classmates. How another had a killer area for skinny dipping – and he’d nearly froze his ass off after cannonballing into it. Or how this other time he’d burned his eyebrows off for nearly a month after dropping a match into a pile of dry brush. The lighter fluid hadn’t been needed, but did amp it all up to eleven, while also torching part of a nearby corn crop.

All stories were told with his hands, framing each expression that crossed his face, along with a series of mimicked sounds and added commentary. It was tough not to watch him, and every time he scored a laugh, or a “no frigging way” from her, she got a pleased smile from him in return before he dove into another tale.

She hadn’t been left alone with herself for once. Left with her thoughts buzzing, questioning everything, and it’d been…nice. Really damn nice, actually.

Lord knew she’d done enough of that since getting here. But a moment where she didn’t have to think about Joseph or how the arrest had gone to shit on her watch was a reprieve she’d gladly take.

“We aren’t there yet, are we?” she asked, fiddling with the strap of her bag.

“We’re about two shakes out. Could probably find a quicker way if we ambush any of the Peggies waiting around, but you’ve got to deal with their shit taste in music first.”

“Oh, amen to that,” she muttered. “Before I came out here I was stuck on John’s playlist from hell. At least Faith’s is kinda soothing if you listen to it long enough. John’s is really…self-focused.”

It was only the one song that was, actually, but when his people wanted to blast it, it was everywhere. And for someone so determined to remind everyone that he was the face of Eden’s Gate, he’d gone above and beyond the call of duty in that department, with every sign, note, and broadcast.

With every yes, which he was set on staking his claim on.

God, even now she was still bitching about John. It was probably time for a break, all things considered.

“John? What with that whole cleansing shit? Some beefed up swirly from hell? I’ve had better times out back getting the old spray and pray with the firehose. All without someone really pushing for me to get into it. Like really into it.” He thought it over a bit. “Fucking Peggies, man.”

Okay, scratch that. Cheap shots were totally still on the table. “Yeah, I think he’s going to need to do a real spin-cycle on me before that’ll take. He was kinda pissed during mine.”

Sharky nudged her. “I heard the Pastor totally blew the whole thing sky high getting people out of there. That was you too?”

“I wished I’d done half of the shit he’d been able to. John had-“

A chill rolled over her at the memory of the water, how cold it’d felt as he’d held her down, and she floundered for a second.

“…Dammit. Sorry, the uh, motherfucker was really persistent when it came to loading the few of us up and into a van, so my hands were literally tied when Jerome found us. It was a Die Hard-level type of intervention and I’d never been more jealous in my life.”

He gave an approving nod. “Dude’s a total badass.”

“No joke.”

The high-pitched whine of an engine approached, and the two ducked into the nearby brush to avoid it. Traveling along any of the roads was a risk, so they tried to stick to the smaller paths Sharky was more familiar with once they had cleared the trailer park. That didn’t stop those opting for ATVs, however.

One ambled up and over a nearby hill, with only a single rider, and the man swore loudly as the vehicle’s wheels rolled into a muddy patch. A few loud revs tried to get it to budge, but it wasn’t doing it, and after nearly a minute of fighting it he cut the power to the engine.

She traded a look with Sharky. “It’s not the most roomy of rides, but-“

“I can sardine it up, no problem. You can fit five people on one of those things if you try hard enough.”

“Sure, man,” Hana said, lining up the shot with her rifle. “Good thing we’re just sticking to two.”

She pulled the trigger. The man pitched forward, falling over the handlebars to the ground below. They both hurried over after that, keeping an eye out for anyone that might’ve been tailing him.

Slinging her rifle over to her side, the two got to work shifting the ATV out of the hole it’d made. They hefted it over to the side, clear of the mud it had kicked up, and once it was free she popped onto the driver’s seat, and patted the seat behind her.

Sharky had just settled in when she revved it, and he swore loudly as the ATV shot forward, both of his hands flying around her waist. The shift made her yelp, and when she responded by hitting the brakes his weight hit her squarely in the back, nearly bowling her over as well.

“You want to ease up on that, Dep?” he wheezed. “You want both of us to make it over there in one piece, right?”

Her face burned as she took her hands off of the controls, and took in a deep breath before touching them again. “Goddammit. I’ve driven all of one of these before, and forgot how bad they kick.”

“Sure you don’t want me up front?”

She actually kinda did, but the thought of hugging two cylinders of propane as they sped along just screamed, ‘bad idea’. “Nah, I’ve got it, hon. Just give me a second.”

His grip was tight on her, a fact that wasn’t lost on her one bit as she revved the ATV gently, hoping the damn thing wouldn’t try to boot them again. This time they were able to stay on, but it took more than one controlled turn for him to finally ease up and sit back.

Soon enough, they rolled up to their destination. Boshaw Manor – as Sharky affectionately referred to it – was a single-story house that was remarkably intact considering who the owner was. Surrounded by just enough trees to give it cover, the property was littered with items that were either for burning, or had been in the process of being burnt.

Even from where she was standing she could see propane tanks stacked along the outside wall of the house, and as the two tucked themselves behind a nearby tree, she checked for any signs the cult had been there.

A large SUV was parked out front, and it was the furthest from what she’d imagine a guy like Sharky would drive. Still, it was worth asking.

“Does that look pretty much as you’d left it?”

Sharky studied the area, and shook his head. “Hell, no. I left with the only truck I had, and what’s left of it’s back at the trailer park.”

“I was afraid you’d say that. Watch my back while I check it out?” She handed him her rifle, and started creeping forward.

Drawing her handgun, Hana slowly approached the vehicle. Circling around it, she noted the word “SINNER” painted along its side, the letters all in stark white. The windshield had been blown out, and when she moved around the open driver’s side door she winced at what was resting on the ground beside it.

The woman wasn’t wearing any of the clothes favored by the cult, and had likely been just about to duck into the house ahead for shelter or help. Too many people in the county had been left like this, curled up and afraid just before the cultists got to them, and anger began to curl in every inch of her body as she kept on moving towards the front door.

A flash of white sprung up on her left. Bright lights weren’t dancing on the edges of her vision like before, but as she saw someone dart around the corner of the house, she rubbed at her eyes just to see if the image faded.

That was the only way to explain-

“You see any Peggies?”

Every hair stood on end as she whirled around to find Sharky behind her. “Fuck, man! I told you to hang back!” she hissed.

“I didn’t see anything back there, and wanted to check with you.” His voice traveled even in a whisper, and she held up a finger to her lips. “Uh, yeah, working on that.”

He was still louder than needed, but she chalked it up to the pitch of his voice. That, and the excitement that seemed to spring up whenever trouble was waiting. She gave him a small pat on the shoulder and gestured towards the door.

He stuck with her this time as they approached, tucking close to the wall. She inched down the way, passing the signs nailed by the entrance, each of which mentioned propane or fire in some fashion, and she remembered both the propane canisters…and the flamethrower on Sharky’s back.

Someone loved to live dangerously. But at least he put up the signs?

She nudged the door open, wincing at the creak. When she didn’t see anyone waiting in the doorway, she crept inside. Between the two of them, they quickly went through the small house, poking in every corner, even giving the other half of the yard outside a once-over before meeting back by the doors.

“It’s looking pretty damn clear,” she said after a minute, still crouched down low. “Uh, unless you can think of any other places a Peggie might want to hide out here?”

“Most of my stuff’s in the bunker below. Gasoline, enough antifreeze to float a fucking boat, and a bunch of other shit that…”

He paused, worry suddenly crossing his face, then broke away to head outside, his run turning into a sprint.

“Sharky, what the hell?”

“Gotta check on this real quick, chica!”

She watched him stop right next to a spot outside, one she’d missed completely. Brushing a bunch of leaves and twigs away from it with his hands, he reached down and popped a hidden hatch open. He was gone a second later, sliding down the ladder to check out whatever waited below.

Hana stood there, holding the door to his house open as she stared after him. Curiosity soon got the better of her, however, and she approached the hatch, couching down next to it. Below she couldn’t see or hear much, but when it didn’t look like any Peggies were really waiting to ambush the two, she called out to him.

“Hey, Boshaw! Didn’t fall in down there, did you?”

His voice didn’t carry all the way to her, but he did appear at the bottom of the stairs a moment later. He’d set his flamethrower down, but was sporting a shotgun instead.

“Nah, just had to make sure none of the Peggies have been nosing around in my shit. A man’s stash is a special thing, and having them come over here with their fake-ass paperwork only to claim it just ain’t right.”

“So, everything’s still good?” she asked as he climbed back up to join her.

“Nothing’s moved, still got all of the antifreeze, though it’s looking like it’ll go soon so I’d better get on using it for something. …I was looking to get on crossing off things on my bucket list anyway, and no time like the present.”

She didn’t ask for any extra explanation, but figured if he wanted to, he’d tell her. “So, what do we want to try and shove in that SUV over there if it’s still running?”

He rubbed his hands together. “Depends on just how high you want to blow up ol’ Joe. And the sky’s the fucking limit.”

That really came down to how comfortable they’d feel driving out on the open road one accident away from a violent explosion. He could work with it. Her, not as much, even when she tried to tap into the same brand of gusto he’d come at the idea with.

Still, they didn’t need to have a river of propane and propane-type products to do a ton of damage, and when she talked him into dialing it back to whatever they could fit in the trunk, he pouted a little, but said that Hurk could pick up the slack from there.

Lucky for them both, the SUV had its keys in the ignition, and when it did start, they quickly cleared the rest of the vehicle out, removing the shattered glass and the debris in the back. She followed his lead after that, grabbing anything he rattled off to her off of his mental checklist, and they loaded it up fast.

He spent some time securing the place as well, hiding the hatch to his ‘stash’, and setting up parting gifts for anyone that came poking around. Every spot he marked, she made damn sure to note. She would be the one to accidentally blow her own foot off for being careless, and really didn’t need to raise her chances by playing an impromptu game of minesweeper later on in Sharky’s yard.

From this spot out front they could also keep an eye on the road. It’d been quiet so far – almost too quiet, and Hana tried not to let her nerves have a field day with that one – but she couldn’t help the deep breath that left her the moment they were able to climb in and hit the road.

She handed her map off to Sharky and immediately turned on the radio. Static filled the vehicle at first, but once she found the right station, she was greeted by the sound of a guitar.

“Hell yeah,” he replied, bopping his head once the music came on. “Crank it while you’ve got it. Now, Hurk and Hurk are all the way up by Wishbone Lake.”

“Hurk and Hurk?”

“Yeah, his dad didn’t gamble like mine did. So, Hurk Sr. and Jr. it was.” He drew a line out on the map with his finger that she tried to follow, and held the map up so she could get a better look. “Huge lake, great if you like fishing, better if you’ve got some moonshine and a boat full of dynamite. But we’ve got to drive by the Marina first, and that would be one kickass detour.”

“Why’s that?”

“That’s where my Aunt is. You’ve gotta meet her. Aunty Addie’s just…” He struggled with his words for a few seconds, and Hana raised an eyebrow. “You know how the Pastor’s a badass? Well, she’s certified.”

She grinned. “Sounds like one hell of a lady. Think she’d love to take a potshot at-” Her next few words died in her mouth as she saw Peggie trucks ahead.

The two formed a small blockade, both trucks turned to keep anyone from cutting around them, and when they spotted the SUV coming up on them, they pointed towards them in surprise.

“Aw, fuck.” She eyed the road up ahead, noticing how it sharply curved, leading to a drop off that likely meant their imminent demise. “This is not great.”

“We bailing or making this the biggest improvised fireball I’ve ever seen?”

“We’re improvising, that’s for damn sure!” Pressing her foot on the gas, she pushed her bag towards him. “Molotov!”

He quickly dug for one, and proceeded to light it. “You’re pretty fucking cool for a cop, you know that?”

The Molotov flew, Sharky’s aim on point even as she turned the wheel to skid off of the road, and both cultists immediately had a lot more to worry about than the dark blue SUV bearing down on them.

She hit the brakes, throwing out an arm to grab for Sharky’s hoodie when she saw him lurch forward, and once they skidded to a stop, she grabbed for the first weapon she could get and aimed it out of the driver’s side window.

The two Peggies had separated, one overwhelmed by the flames, the other ducking behind the truck, and she took a few shots to see if she could tag him. All they did was make him tuck further behind it, and she barely ducked to avoid the spray of bullets that tore into the driver’s side of the cabin.

Curling her arms over her head, she looked to her right at the vacant spot next to her.

A loud whistle cut across the gunfire. “Yo, dipshit! Over here’s a real party!”

Hana shot up from her hiding spot in record time.

With a middle finger held high, Sharky dropped it to quickly ready his shotgun, firing twice. Both shots went through the truck’s side windows, any scatter leaving fiery holes in the seats in their wake, and she swore under her breath.

Her gun was in her hand and shooting at the cultist before she could think to do anything else, and she didn’t stop once until they hit the pavement.

“Now that’s fucking teamwork,” he said, his feet shifting into the loosest interpretation of the moonwalk she’d ever seen.

He was still dancing when she walked up beside him and both surveyed the flaming wreck. The fire had crawled up and over the top of one of the white trucks, smoke climbing up towards the sky. It didn’t look like it was going to get to the engine, but she wasn’t keen on sticking around to find out.

A horn went off. The noise came from behind her, and continued to sound off as it closed in.

She turned, and spotted a white van in the distance, quickly closing in. The same make and model as the one used that night by the lake to cart her and countless others off.

That realization set her next decision in stone as anger welled in her chest.

They weren’t slowing down. No, they were speeding up, and she started firing, aiming for the driver as she planted herself directly in the middle of their path on the road, set on getting as many shots off as possible.

Twenty feet.

Ten feet.

Five feet.

Almost. Almost…!

Sharky slammed into her, his arms holding onto her as they hit the grass. She yelped, her gun flying off into the boonies, and she was only idly aware of the roar of the van as it passed straight through the spot she’d been standing.

“Jesus H. Christ,” she breathed, her blood pounding. “I had it.”

Sharky, still half on top of her, raised himself up onto his forearms. “Dep, now I like curly fries, but you were looking to be the only hamburger in the county with a badge. That, and uh…” He noticed the stiff way she was holding her hands up, and her pinched expression, then scrambled to get up and off of her as quickly as possible.

“Seriously, I had it!” He offered her a hand to get up, and though she felt her irritation rising, she took it. “I was going to…”

Her head had swung in the direction of the van, watching it scrape by the flaming mess they had made of the roadblock. But once it was past it slowly coasted to a stop, coming to a rest right at the very edge of where the road curved.

It rocked, forward and back as Hana stared at it dumbly. Then she was on her feet, running full-tilt towards it.

“No, no, no, no-“

The rear came down to touch the grass, holding in place for what seemed like eternity. That’s when it pitched forward, the back of the van jutting right into the sky as it fell over the edge, disappearing from sight.

She barely caught herself when she reached the road’s edge, slipping on a patch of dirt as she came to a stop. Below, she hadn’t been sure what to expect, but as she watched the van slide straight to the bottom of the ravine unharmed, she couldn’t even muster a word. Just stunned silence as she stared down at it.

When Sharky joined her, he lifted up his baseball cap to run a hand through his hair. “Now that’s a motherfucking miracle if I’ve ever seen one. You fall like that, and usually you’re ten different kinds of toast.”

“God, you’re that sure they didn’t…” A voice yelled from below, and she gasped. “Holy shit.”

Jumping down the steep decline, she didn’t even think about what a wrong step would mean, only that she needed to get down there. Now.

“Hey! Dep, hold on a sec – shit, don’t fucking boogie down the thing!”

She didn’t chance a look behind her, but figured that Sharky wouldn’t leave her alone for long. Even if that meant skidding like her straight to the bottom.

The white flowers appeared in her path too fast to dodge them. The twinkling hit as everything slowed down, throwing her off for a second, but she didn't lose her footing. Just collided with the van as her vision swam, and she held herself in place as she regained her bearings.

The person inside called out again, of all things reassurances, and she quickly reached for the doors to the back. The fall had mangled the frame of the van, but only enough to wedge the doors out of place, and she struggled with it until Sharky managed to reach her.

With his help, the two pried it open, revealing one very jostled, but grateful man. “Thank you. I’m okay, just…thank you!”

Hana cut the zip-ties binding his wrists, and shook her head. “I, uh, really should be thanking you for being a good sport about that. Sure you don’t need bandages, water, or shit, even a drink?”

“No, no, I’m just thankful not to be going back. Not to any of them.”

She made her way back up the hill to get her canteen regardless, relieved to the bone that things hadn’t gone entirely pear-shaped. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she flashed Sharky a thumbs up, and wanted nothing more than to flop down in the grass for a serious breather.

That’s when she noticed the figure leaning against the side of the van. Clad in the same delicate white dress, Faith’s eyes were closed, a serene expression settled completely over her. This was the second time she’d seen her, only this time the vision hadn’t vanished yet.

She hadn’t touched the bliss in hours, not since the brief brush with it back at the jail.

But the flowers had done the trick in its stead. Messed with her enough to question what was sitting in front of her, and Faith was no exception. She couldn’t have been real, couldn’t have been out here, waiting for them.

Hana approached her, angling her head to get a better look, only for Faith’s hand to dart out. Her fingers wrapped around her wrist, the hold gentle, but firm.

Everything went white.

The next time Hana opened her eyes, she was no longer down in that ravine. She was in a place of sunlight and tall grass, trees stretching towards the sky as the breeze ruffled her hair. There was no place more peaceful than this, and when Faith smiled at her, she couldn’t help but smile back.

Faith took her hands, tugging her into a slow spin as they danced in place. “I’ve been waiting for this,” she said, lights twinkling in her hair. “It felt like ages. Waiting for you to finally find me, but that’s all right.”

Hana let her pull her close, and felt a smile tug at her own lips as Faith did.

“I have so much to show you. Will you let me?”

She nodded, her voice lost, but not missed. She floated here, felt weightless here, and would follow Faith wherever she wished.

“Good.” She let go, and turned away, walking forward with her hands outstretched over the grass. “There are some that will tell you I’m a liar. That I will tell you only what you want to hear, what I want you to know. This isn’t true.”

Hana followed, mirroring her motions, feeling the grass tickle the insides of her palms.

“A young woman was lost once. Alone."

Faith turned again, still backlit with a halo of light, but somber, grounded. She held out her hand, one finger raised, and as she spoke, a butterfly came to rest there. "There was little to ease the pain she felt as she watched others connect, and find comfort.” The butterfly spread its wings, taking flight.“She wanted to escape, to leave behind the abuse she suffered from those she trusted. When she begged for help, they ignored her. So she used. The press of a needle became her comfort. It helped her to forget. To feel something, anything other than what she knew to be true.”

Faith closed her eyes, and placed her hands on Hana’s shoulders as she leaned in, standing up on her toes to whisper in her ear.

“That she was a burden. To both them, and to herself. That life was not worth living, not like this. Not as she was.”

Hana watched as Faith touched her cheek, gentle, but so faint she’d have questioned it if she hadn’t been looking right at her.

“That’s when he found her.”

Faith darted back, her face lit up in joy, and grabbed for Hana’s hand, tugging her into a run.

They ran through the glowing field, past the flowers, through the haze until she could see what was waiting ahead. Their path through the grass came to an end, leading to the edge of their little pocket in the bliss. If she jumped, there was nowhere to fall below. Only wisps of green waited there, hiding the bottom from view.

Faith raised her hand towards the clouds dotting the sky, and with a wave, brushed them aside, revealing what was hidden beneath.

“The Father welcomed her,” she said, gazing up at the statue of Joseph. “He gave her a family, love, and purpose. They didn’t reject her. He didn’t reject her, and promised he would never leave her. And with this promise she found…she didn’t want to die anymore. She wanted to live. But this was not the end.”

The green fog wrapped around Faith, giving way in a flash of light to a set of wings, large and dazzling.

“No, the Father had something to ask of her. A test.”

Faith took her hands again, but this time she flew high, lifting them both.

“If she had faith in him, if she showed that she would do anything, even die for him, he would return that faith. He would return that devotion. All she had to do was take that leap. To show him she believed.”

Hana held on tight, a rush flowing through her as she kept on watching the world below them pass on by. But she looked up, let Faith carry her, and relaxed.

Faith’s smile had eased, however, replaced with one of hesitation. Doubt.

“But she was scared. She wasn’t sure, and when faced with that choice, she hesitated. Anyone would’ve. She wanted to live, had found a reason to after so long. Why give it up now?”

The statue drew closer, and as Faith brought them up alongside it, she gave Hana a warm glance.

“Still, he was patient,” she said, her words soothing. “She saw this, and took a chance. Trusted him, and leapt.”

Faith set her down, Hana’s feet coming to rest on top of the open pages of the book held in stone hands, and Faith slipped away. Her wings caught the sunlight, glinting with each flap as she rose up higher and higher in the sky.

Faith’s voice echoed in her ears, called to her, even as Hana looked right at her.

Follow the path.

Trust in us, and show us your faith. Take the leap.

And after, once you wake, we will welcome you with open arms.

A figure to her right caught her eye, their eyes on Faith as well.

Burke. The fuzzy feeling in her mind, in her bones, struggled to clear as she watched him take one step forward, then two.

Stop.

Each step Hana took was as through cement, dragging them forward one by one. The words caught in her throat, stuck even as she opened and closed her mouth.

He approached the edge of the book, unafraid. “Follow the path,” he repeated, opening his arms wide.

“…B-Burke.” The effort shredded her voice, but she forced herself to keep going, to keep pushing. “Burke, don’t-“ She reached for him, wanting to scream. “Don’t!”

Her fingertips brushed him as he fell, grasped him only for a second, before they curled into her empty fists.

Down he fell, through the fog, down to nothing.

Now it’s your turn.

Hana looked down, down at the curling wisps of the bliss.

Take the leap. Be free.

She rocked forward, feeling her balance give, her breaths coming quick as she felt the ground below her feet give way.

Don’t be afraid.

Her arms flew up in front of her face as the wind whipped at her, the ground rushing up to meet her.

---

A breeze tickled her cheek. Brushed a few strands of her hair across her face, the tickling sensation only growing in intensity as she stared ahead.

The grass moved, the white flowers in front of her twinkling as they swayed, and she drew in a breath.

Real. This was real. Solid ground, the grass underneath her fingertips. Hana gripped onto it tight, increasing the pressure until it tore free from the ground, only then did she let herself collapse back down onto it.

Her eyelids remained heavy as she rested there, her mouth dry as she wet her lips, and she closed her eyes.

“Dep!”

Her body tensed.

“Yo, po-po! I know you’re out there! Holler once if you hear me, and holler twice if you can’t! Or three for Peggies, we’ll figure it out!”

Flipping over, she groaned as she pushed herself up. Sharky. It was Sharky, and she thanked whoever was watching over her above that he hadn’t run off on her.

“Shark? Hey!” That alone put a strain on her, drawing a rough cough, but she yelled again. “Boshaw, over here!”

She could hear him running towards her now. That was a good sign, but still felt sluggish, her eyes adjusting to a world that wasn’t built by the bliss for her. She’d moved on to lightly slapping her own cheek when Sharky sprinted up, looking a mix of shocked and relieved.

“Hey shorty,” he said, crouching down by her side. “Not gonna lie, I thought they’d grabbed you.”

“They did. Kinda?” Hana paused as she looked over at him, the last few flits of light still dancing in front of her, and she squeezed her eyes shut tight before opening them again. “Ugh. It was the bliss. That and Faith. I don’t even know what the hell happened after she reached for me.”

“You were there ‘til you weren’t.” She stared straight at him, and he held up his hands in defense. “I’m not yanking your chain or lying, man. You fucking ninja-vanished, like poof, except with no smoke, no nothing.”

“That doesn’t even begin to make any sense. How the hell did you know to come here then?”

“I, uh, heard humming.”

“Humming.”

“And, uh…” He scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish. “She might’ve pointed me along. Led me through a few of those fucking bramble-bushes too, which’ll stick me when I least want it – probably when taking a piss, but- yeah.“

She blanched. “God, Faith’s everywhere. Or wants us to think that exact thing.”

“At least I got to keep my twenty dollars this time.”

“What?”

Sharky shrugged. “She looked like she needed a beer or something, so I gave her the cash out of my pocket.”

“You gave a walking acid trip twenty dollars?”

“That’s-you don’t just leave someone hanging when they’re in need, and Faith’s just smoking hot, man. You don’t know what it’s like to have those eyes set on you, and if she'd asked, I’d have given her my shirt, shoes, and pants too. No questions asked.”

Hana recalled the touch of Faith’s hand, her soft words. It wasn’t a stretch by any means, and she pinched the skin on the inside of her wrist to keep from slipping back into the haze she was still struggling to shake off.

“Okay. I meant it before, but I really want to put it out there this time. No more bliss. None. Not even a whiff.” She reached behind her head, trying to stretch out the mess that happened to be her cramped muscles, and failed, lying back on the dirt instead. “Say, where’d the truck go?”

“Uh…about that.”

She sat up and aimed a look right at him.

“It might be back there. Alone. Not on fire, but uh, I ran after you all the way here, and now we need to run back all the way there.” He squinted at her for a few seconds, thinking as he looked her over. “Could probably carry you if you want. I’m solid. Laps ain’t nothing with my flamethrower on me, and that's back in the truck, so I got you covered.”

He patted one of his biceps, grinning, and she rolled her eyes. “You do not want to carry me all the way back there.”

“Hey, an amigo in need is an amigo indeed. We shoulder each other’s burdens and shit.”

Okay, so she didn’t want to have to worry about him carrying her, and she made sure to get up before he could see the blush trying to work its way onto her face.

“Come on. We’re walking.”

[raiswanson]

The Loving Seal shorts #6: Need (Kaelan PoV)

(Oh snap! We’re at the end of the month and the end of the shorts! I hope everyone had as fun of a ride as I did! Because I DID have fun! It’s all ‘official’ Loving Seal material ahead [unless another short comes along, which is extremely possible] and the love these little pieces have gotten will definitely help keep me going as I work on finishing this draft so I can share it with all you lovely people ❤️❤️❤️ )

This is short six of six that I wrote in March in preparation of Camp Nano! In a fun twist, today we end the shorts with the first one I wrote! Taking place only a short while before The Loving Seal begins, we find...well, I think the pre-readmore snippet tells you about all you need to know.

(This short is about 1200 words long)

Another spear sank in to my side, and the last of my air bubbled out on a weak cry of pain. The dwindling strength left in my flippers fled, and I stopped fighting the rope I’d been pulling against for the last hour. I was tired. So, so tired. I’d spent the morning dodging sharks and already come out bleeding for it, and as the humans above began reeling me up I was mystified to see I still had blood left to cloud the water.

I just wanted to rest. It was too hard. So long I’d swam these alien waters. So long I’d searched coast after coast, settlement after settlement. Fled countless human encounters and even more with the wildlife. It was all so exhausting, being beaten and chased again and again and again...and for what? I couldn’t remember. It was all so foggy and distant, like nothing was real. Like I was already asleep.

The rope tugged, sending a flash of pain arcing through me. It faded just as fast, and a quiet part of me noted that that was very bad, but I was too tired to care. My mind drifted, trying to remember why I was here, why these humans were pulling me up to their boat to kill the seal they’d hunted. There had been something. Something important. So, so important. The most important thing in the world…

Nivvie needs you, pleaded a quiet voice, putting a startled jolt through my tail. I resisted the rope’s pull for a moment, trying to remember who “Nivvie” was. I knew that name. The sound of it sang through my thoughts like the sea come alive, but it brought with it a pain worse than any of the spears wedged deep beneath my flesh.

No she doesn’t. Vina doesn’t need anyone. She’s too strong, chided another voice, louder and sourer. It drained the strength right back out of me. I remembered a face. A beautiful face full of dark spots as wild and vibrant as the dark hair around it. A graceful speckled form weaving through the water just ahead, taunting me to hurry up. As the image came to mind I could almost see it up ahead now, blurry and just out of reach, flippers waving to urge me closer.

But I need her, I murmured to the voices, making the loud one buzz.

Do you? It asked. I blinked slow and pondered.

I…

You do. And she needs you, the softer voice whispered, soothing me even as my lungs began to burn and fire filled them. You need her like you need air.

But I’m tired. I can’t go to her, I whined, even as my flippers moved to pull against the rope. They failed me again right away, but I could feel my mind slowly settling back inside me where it belonged.

And you never will if you do not fight, both voices surged this time, startling enough power into my tail to send me shooting back down toward the sea floor before the rope snapped taunt and held me in place.

I can’t fight anymore. I’ve been fighting so long and I…

And?

I can’t.

You can’t, or you don’t want to?

I’m tired.

And what about Nyvina?

The name brought the full image blaring bright behind my eyes, sharp enough that I gasped in a gulp of water and choked. I lost distance to the pulling rope as my burning lungs fought and spasmed, and could have cried as I was unable to resist despite my newly revived need to continue.

But I can’t move. I can’t do anything, I sobbed, feeling small and alone when there was no answer. What could I do? I was weak, and exhausted, and no amount of will to live could call up power I’d long expended. I’d given all I had and come up short.

I was lost.

I’m sorry Vina. I’m sorry, I thought, staring blearily into the open sea as though my hope alone could summon her.

The blurry form remained just past my reach, beckoning like a siren—more lovely than any siren—as if to say, “Come. Come to me, I’m here.”

My flippers twitched but remained useless and dead at my sides. Everything was so dark now. Hazy. Only her gray speckled form remained in my sight, silently pleading me to join her. Waving in the darkness.

My head bumped the bottom of the row boat. It wouldn’t be long now.

At least I was able to see her again. Even if it was just a vision, I sighed to myself as I tried to take in my last moments of sight.

Her form shifted. Began to move. I stared in wonder as she surged forward, moving with blurry speed right toward me. She stretched, and the next thing I knew she was no longer a beautiful seal, but a hazy pinkish rocket shooting through the water. The pink blur shot past, and I closed my eyes as a loud bang shook the sea around me.

Screams followed, and I forced my eyes open again to see the water full of humans before I couldn’t hold on any longer. The world slipped away as the sea entered my lungs, only to burst into vibrancy in a flash of horrible agony as something bumped my belly and I was thrust into the air.

I heard rapid clicking over my own wretched gasping and coughing as fire flowed through my lungs and I reeled, and an urgent prodding from below before the presence left me to hold myself at the surface. Shock alone drove me to float, and as I fought to breathe and keep breathing I heard human shrieks in the water.

My eyes could hardly register anything as I tried to face the sound, but all I could make out was a flailing shape vanishing into the darkness that was the world around me. Sinking low, low into the deep as other floundering shapes tried to scatter. They each vanished the same way, one moment flopping about in the current, and the next...gone. Gone to the depths with a fading, bubbling scream.

I bobbed in the choppy waves and waited for my turn, only to find the prodding return, pushing to keep my head above water.

“Who…?” I asked in selkie, hearing a splash beside me as clicking filled the air.

“Kaelan?” an unfamiliar, pitched voice asked.

“How do you…?” I tried to open my eyes and failed. Breathing was hard enough, speaking near impossible. I dipped lower toward the sea as my short burst of strength faded. There wouldn’t be another one.

“Your pod asked me to watch for you. I heard your cries and followed. You are safe now. I shall return you to them.”

“No… Niv...” I protested, sinking.

The clicking turned frustrated, and after a splash I was lifted to the surface once more. “We will discuss this later. For now, rest, and I will take you to shore. I can return you to no one if you are dead,” they said, making me slump as I was finally given permission to stop.

Yes. Rest. I would rest. I would sleep, and dream to remember Nyvina. And when I woke, I would be ready to move again. I would go to her, wherever she was in the great sea.

She needed me. I needed her. It had been that way as long as I could remember. No matter what the voices of exhaustion said, that was the truth. It was the whole truth, the most important one in the world. We belonged together.

And once I’d regained my strength, not a force in the ocean would keep us apart.

[turtle-steverogers]

Walking on Broken Glass

prequel to this

warnings: OOF character death, cancer, alcohol abuse, smoking, vomit, the whole nine yards

ship(s): sprace and platonic ralbert

editing: hnng no

The ocean breeze blew softly over the coast, cooling down the air almost imperceptibly.  It was overcast, clouds looming low and grey on the horizon, causing the water to appear darker than usual.  Waves were crashing with a rigor that might seem threatening to some.

But to others, it was calming; welcoming.

Spot’s eyes followed Race’s figure fondly as he stood at the water’s edge, jeans rolled up haphazardly, crumpling at the bottoms of his calves.  His hands were in his pocket as he watched the water pool around his ankles, splashing up and dampening the fabric of his jeans, leaving sandy residue in its wake.

Spot watched as he lifted his head, pushing his glasses further up his nose as he looked out towards the sea.  Although Spot could only see half his face, the awe that glimmered in his eyes was noticeable.

Race turned his head, making eye contact with Spot.  He smiled, snapping out of whatever trance the ocean had instilled upon him and trudging through the sand to join him.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” Spot said as Race sat down next to him, drawing his knees up to his chest and casually draping his arms around his legs.

He leaned his head on Spot’s shoulder, but didn’t say anything.  The breeze turned into a small wind and Race looked up, eyes scanning the sky as it darkened.

“It’s gonna rain soon,” Race murmured.  He crossed his arms at his chest, pulling his sleeves down further as he started to shiver.

Spot wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer to his own chest.

“Five more minutes.”

XXX

“Shit,” Albert hissed, lifting his arms level to his shoulders involuntarily as water lapped around his waist, sending goosebumps up his stomach and to his chest.

“Pussy,” Race smirked as he bobbed above the surface, usually curly hair sticking to his forehead.

“You look like an egg,” Albert retaliated, reaching out to muss up Race’s hair, only to be yanked down by his forearm.  He yelped, barely remembering to take a breath before he was engulfed by the cold waves.  He floundered for a moment before planting his feet on the sand and standing back up, glaring at Race as he emerged.

Race was cackling, doubled over as Albert made his way over to him.

“Now who’s the egg- oh fuck,” Race’s eyes widened as Albert tackled him down, submerging them both.  The wrestled for a moment under the water, limbs banging aimlessly together until they pushed themselves up again, gulping in air.

They waded to the water’s edge, flopping down simultaneously and rolling on their backs.  Albert could feel the waves brush up against his feet, some more prominent than others.  It was as though every time a wave struggled to reach him, it would come back stronger the next time to prove its strength.  

The sun was strong, blinding the two of them as they stared at the sky.  Albert distantly wondered if he should reapply sunscreen, but quickly abandoned the thought in favor of the moment.  

They were alone in this small alcove, separated from any popular portions of the beach.  Albert wasn’t entirely sure how Race had found this area, nor was he sure how he managed to keep it vacant, but he decided not to question it.

A strange sense of secrecy surrounded the area.  It was special in a way that Albert couldn’t quite place.  A giddy sense of entitlement coursed through his veins at the thought of being one of the only people that had access to this tranquil corner of the world.

“Oh,” Race exclaimed, sitting up abruptly.  Albert lifted his head and watched as he scrambled to his bag, only to return a moment later with a small plastic bag.

“Here,” Race opened the bag, extracting a small, sky blue bracelet.  A small charm with the letter ‘A’ was attached to the string at one end, and as Albert took it in his hand, he discovered that the bracelet was waxy, making it waterproof.  He glanced over to see Race taking another bracelet out of the bag and fastening it around his own wrist.  Albert reached over, carefully turning over Race’s arm.  Race’s bracelet was white with an ‘R’ embellished into the charm and Albert felt a small smile spread across his face.

Race took Albert’s bracelet from where he was dangling it from his pointer finger and carefully fastened it around his wrist.

“I know that they’re kinda cheesy,” Race admitted, ears turning red as Albert pulled back his arm, pressing it against Race’s in favor of looking at the bracelets side by side, “But I saw them at one of those little beach stands a couple miles down,” he trailed off running an idle finger over the charms, “Couldn’t pass it up.”

Albert felt an overwhelming sense of love for his best friend fill up his chest, pressing against his ribs and knocking the air out of his lungs, “I love them.”

XXX

Three boys sat watching the sunset.  Smoke billowed around them as they took careless drags of their cigarettes, only to be swept away by the occasional gust of wind.  

The sunset was magnificent.  Bold reds and soft yellows surrounded the cirrus clouds, creating a pleasant orange glow that seemed to swallow up the universe.  The water was uncharacteristically calm.  Waves rippled continuously, but never grew extraordinary in their size.

It was beautiful, picturesque, almost as though a painter were seamlessly guiding his brush along the horizon and dripping his paint in the water.

But something was off.  Wrong.

No one had spoken yet.  They’d simply piled into the car upon Race’s request and trusted his reasoning.

Another drag, deeper than before, then, “I’m sick.”

Albert froze, cigarette halfway to his mouth.  Spot wordlessly dropped his own and stomped it out in the sand.

“Lung cancer,” Even deeper drag, then a small cough, causing the other two men to wince, “Stage 4.”

Spot felt lightheaded as overwhelming helplessness slowly crept through his body, turning his legs numb, “How long do you have?” the words sounded far away.

“Two to four months,” Race stated, he flicked the now finished cigarette to the ground, “Without treatment.”

Albert ditched his cigarette, suddenly feeling repulsed, “And with treatment?” he managed around the lump in his throat.

“Six months to a year,” Race said.  He was quiet for a moment, before letting out a dry laugh, “But what’s the point.”

Spot and Albert couldn’t find it in themselves to smoke after that.

XXX

Spot sped down the road, away from the the hospital.  Away from where Race was bedridden and barely responsive.  Away from the sick smell of iodoform and latex.

His grip around the wheel tightened, turning his knuckles white as he pushed harder on the gas.  The engine whined in protest, but Spot ignored it.  His entire body was numb, hot anger being the only identifiable feeling.  His chest was heaving, lips pursed as he struggled to swallow down tears.

It wasn’t fair.  Race wasn’t allowed to be sick.  They were supposed to get married, have kids, see the world.  They all smoked, they all fucked up and made bad decisions, so why was Race the one who had to pay for it?

Spot threw his car into park, slamming the door behind him as he stormed onto the sand, following the familiar path down to the water’s edge.  

The waves were crashing furiously upon the shore, rising and falling menacingly in the stark moonlight.  As many times as Spot had been down there, he’d never gone without Race.

It felt wrong being there alone.  As though he were betraying Race in some way.

He kicked at the sand, an angry growl ripping out of his throat as the wind blew it back in his face.  He wiped his eyes furiously, trying to rid them of the sand.  

Everything felt like too much and he hastily ripped off his hoodie, throwing it to the ground.  The soft thump of his sweatshirt against the ground was underwhelming, driving Spot to kick it away from him.  

Anger coursed through his veins.  Raw grief and fresh fury driving his body to its limit.  More sand was kicked, thrown, bashed at.  Rocks and shells were pelted at the ocean.  Splashes and shouts were lost to the sounds of the sea, which seemed to scream back at him with equal fervor.

It almost sounded like the ocean was angry, too.

Eventually, the anger dissipated and Spot collapsed at the shore line.  Water pooled around him, soaking the bottoms of his jeans and seeping into his shoes.  He reached into his pocket, extracting the ring box that he’d had for so long.  He opened it, staring blankly at the ring inside.  Race was still here, he could still do it.  They could still get married.  But, then what?  

The water seemed to pull back after that, the waves reverting to a gentle swell of the tide.

And as the ocean gave up, so did Spot.  The first tears fell in time with the current.

XXX

A bottle was clasped tightly in his hand.  A headache was already poundly dully behind his eyes, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Nausea gripped his stomach in an iron fist, causing bile to rise persistently in his throat, but he washed it back down with another swig of vodka.  Or whiskey.  He couldn’t remember which it was anymore, nor did he care.

Albert grimaced as the last drop of alcohol burned his throat and he threw the bottle to the side.  He could hear the glass shatter, but he couldn’t bring his mind to acknowledge it.

The nausea returned and he leaned over, emptying the contents of his stomach into the sand next to him.  He winced at the putrid smell and started to scoot away from his sick, but gave up when a dizzy spell threatened to drag him out of consciousness.

Besides, if Race was sick, he shouldn’t be alone right?

In the back of his mind, he was aware that he’d made a mess and a small flicker of guilt ignited in his gut.

“Sorry for making a mess on your beach, Racer,” he slurred.  But no voice answered.  No one told him off, or scolded him, or called him a dumbass.  Because the only person who would was in the hospital.

Albert squinted out towards the ocean where he could see birds swooping low over the waves, gliding gracefully in line with each other.  Everything was identical to how it was before Race got sick.  Everything moved at the same routine.  The tide still changed, the breeze still blew, the sun still rose in the morning and set in the evening.

So why did it feel like something was missing?  Even though Race was still alive.

Albert fingered his bracelet mindlessly.

Because it already felt like Race was gone.

XXX

Spot and Albert were both at the hospital when it happened.

It was early in the morning, long before the sun would rise.  Neither of them had been able to sleep after they got a call the night before that Race was having intense coughing fits.  Even though he’d been coughing consistently since his diagnosis, something about the call felt disturbingly final and they’d rushed to the hospital.

They feared what the night might bring, but dreaded the prospect of missing something.

The nurse told them in a staged, sympathetic tone.  She looked tired, apologetic, and Spot and Albert accepted her sympathetic shoulder squeezes.

She brought them to Race’s room and allowed them to have their time with him.  Albert brushed a hand over the white bracelet on Race’s arm, biting his lip before taking it off and pocketing it.

Spot bent down, smoothing his hand through Race’s curls and kissing his forehead one last time.  Albert could see his chest trembling, but his face was composed.

They left after that, the silence a permanent fixture between them.

XXX

“Hey,” Spot felt Race’s hot breath against his chest and he opened his eyes, “I wanna show you something.”

“What kinda something,” Spot asked, shifting so that Race was lying between his legs.  He pressed a fond kiss to his neck, relishing the soft hum that left Race as he did so.

“This cool little place down on the beach that I found a while back,” Race answered, “I don’t think anyone else knows about it.  It’s really pretty.”

Spot raised his eyebrows, “Sounds pretty cheesy to me.”

Race flicked him in the ear, “Shut up,” he paused to kiss Spot briefly, “I think you’ll like it.”

“Alright,” Spot said, flicking him back, “Show me your magic little cove, Princess.”

“Asshole.”

XXX

“Racer, you missed the exit,” Albert shifted around in his seat, eyes trained on the stretch of road they were supposed to be on, “Aren’t we going to Denny’s?”

“Yeah, yeah, we will,” Race said, a playful smirk on his face, “But I wanna show you something first.”

“Show me something?”

“Yeah, you’ll see.  It’s like this little beach area.  I’ve known about it for ages and I just showed Spot the other day,” He switched gears as he drove off the road and onto the sand that would lead to the public beach, but he continued on past the entrance, “I wanna show you, too.”

Albert scoffed, “Aight, bro, whatever.”

“Don’t whatever me,” Race said, shooting him a defensive glare, “It’s really cool.  Completely mine.”

“I’m excited to see it.”

And he was.

XXX

Race watched his bare feet kick up sand as he trekked along the shoreline.  He wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking, but he was enjoying his afternoon of solitude.

It had been awhile since he’d been in the presence of another person, but he couldn’t bring himself to be unsettled by this.  There was something about being completely alone that was therapeutic.

He trudged up a dune, only to realize that he didn’t recognize where he was.  The marram grass was thicker here and he wove in and out of clumps of it until the landscape started to tilt down.

Curious, he followed the path until he found himself in a small cove.  Dunes surrounded him on all sides and if someone were to look out over the ocean from above, they’d miss this small strip of shore.

He dropped his sandals by one of the dunes and padded over to the water, staring out over the horizon.

No other voices interrupted his thoughts.  No people were around to bother him or berate him in any way.

He was completely at peace.

He sat down, curling his knees up as he continued to absorb the scenery.  Looking back, it seemed as though his footprints were the first.  The place was completely untouched.

He smiled to himself as a bizarre sense of ownership seemed to present itself to him.  It was his beach now.

-

youch im sorry

anywayyyy

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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[beefyboybarnes]

· Sparring part 1·

{Bucky Barnes x reader || one shot/mini-series}

based on the prompt: “Was that supposed to hurt?” from this list. (send in requests!)

you’re the newest member of the avengers team, only having been at the compound for about 2 months, and you have the power of invisibility. you and buck spar in the training room and it ends with the two of you getting hot and heavy.

this will probably be a mini-series of some sort considering how much background the reader character has. i wanna explore it more xx edit: part 2 is here

warnings: reader getting her ass beat, heavy kissing, slight smut / implications

{3k words} sparring masterlist - main masterlist

═════

The hardest thing about being the newest Avenger was the constant feeling of having to prove yourself.

Steve, unsurprisingly, had recruited you to join when the team had been informed by Fury of a possible asset the government had been tracking. You really should have tried harder to stay off of security camera footage. Disappearing and reappearing seemingly out of thin air in the middle of a parking lot tended to raise some eyebrows.

The ability to manipulate light (to varying extent) lead to invisibility. Accepting Steve’s proposal meant you’d be kept out of the government’s hands, what with their growing interest in you and your powers.

You’d only been at the compound for a couple months so you were still very wary of agreeing to let their doctors or specialists run any tests. They had a lot of theories as to what caused your condition. All you could say about your gift with certainty was that it had something to do with your cells. Tony had scoffed incredulously when you’d voiced that at breakfast the day after your arrival, as if he knew so much more about the gift than that. (He didn’t.)

You’d been in the custody of a foster family ever since you’d been discovered seemingly abandoned in a stroller in an emergency waiting room close to midnight. You were only a few months old at the time. At least they’d had the decency to leave me in a hospital. The massive amount of animosity you felt towards your parents had quickly led to you acting out. It wasn’t until you were well into your teenage years that you paired what they did with the reality of some people’s lives. If they were trying to give you a better home life, it had worked. But despite your foster dads being literal angels, you couldn’t pull yourself out of the bad crowd you’d fallen into.

Now in your mid-twenties, you were already living in New York several states away from your dads when Captain America came knocking at your door to recruit you. With your criminal record consisting mostly of shoplifting and b&e’s in your younger years, Steve -against his better judgement, reasoned that it wouldn’t be that hard to get you pardoned in the eyes of the government.

You’d asked to be kept out of the public’s eye, what with your dads being oblivious of your gift (and the fact they’d worry themselves to death if they knew you were out fighting supercharged villains). Steve’d joked that it wouldn’t be too hard keeping you unseen. At your furrowed brow he’d floundered to elaborate.

“Because you can- you can go invisible.”

“No, yeah, I got it the first time.”

═════

Constantly feeling like you needed to prove yourself came with challenging almost every member of the team to fight you. Except for Bruce. You weren’t an idiot.

“Come on old man, scared you’ll break a hip?”

Bucky scoffed into his coffee.

“Yeah, actually, just not one of mine.”

You cocked your head. “Please. I can take you.”

He raised his eyebrows at you before returning his attention to the newspaper in front of him.

“Come on. I have too much adrenaline right now, I need to spar with someone.”

“So ask Steve.”

“He’s busy.” You mumbled before attempting a please-take-pity-on-me puppy face.

He looked up from the paper to you. “You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

It was your turn to scoff. “I spar with Steve all the time. You guys are pretty much the exact same strength. For fuck’s sake, I spar with Natasha.” You looked out the window behind Bucky with a fake wistful gaze. “Her thigh muscles could level cities..”

He grumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

“Jealous?” Your mind seemed to think it was a good idea to direct the extreme energy you were feeling towards cocky confidence.

Bucky scowled. “Not on your life.”

You grinned. “Don’t worry Buck, my love for Nat is purely platonic.”

He dropped the paper he was holding and rubbed his face with his hands before looking up at you. His expression had transitioned so quickly from annoyed to calm it was unsettling.

“Fine.”

The sinister grin that accompanied had your stomach instantly twisting in ropes.

Maybe you should’ve just asked Steve. You knew for a fact he wasn’t busy and would’ve been more than happy to spar. You internally rolled your eyes at yourself. You’ve been wanting to challenge Bucky since you’d arrived at the compound. It’ll be fine. He’ll go easy on you.

═════

“Fuck!”

You rolled to your side groaning. Bucky had just thrown you to the ground for the hundredth time in the last 45 minutes.

“Giving in yet?”

He was very much not going easy on you. What you’d thought would be a piece of cake for you quickly turned into a bloodbath when Bucky had announced the rule no disappearing.

“You need to be able to defend yourself without your powers.” He’d reasoned.

“Why? I’ll always have them. They’ve been with me since I was eight. They’re not going to disappear now.”

“What if you can’t focus enough to disappear? If an enemy can successfully break your concentration every few seconds you won’t be able to hold your invisibility. Self-defence and hand-to-hand is a necessity.”

Bucky offered his flesh hand down to you. You ignored it and ungracefully pulled yourself back up. “How is pummelling me teaching me anything?”

Bucky took a few steps towards you. “If you were smarter in your attacks this wouldn’t be a pummelling.”

You narrowed your eyes further at him. “Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this.”

His face lifted into a grin and despite your annoyance at his cocky attitude, you could feel the corner of your mouth twitch. You turned away from Bucky to hide the smile that quickly grew. It dropped when you felt him sweep your legs out from behind you, landing you face first on the mat.

you moaned in not-entirely-fake pain and turned your face to lie your cheek against the floor. “What the hell was that?” you mumbled into the foam.

“You turned your back on your opponent.”

“We were taking a break!”

He chuckled above you. “Did I say we were on a break?”

Your exasperation turned to rage and you forced yourself back on your feet. “You’re a real dick, Barnes.”

“You asked for this, Doll.”

You pushed against his chest in anger. He barely wavered.

“Was that supposed to hurt?”

You went to throw a punch to his smug face but he caught your fist easily and spun you around so his chest was to your back, holding your hand to your opposite side with his flesh one. His unbridled laughter made your face redden further and you tried to not let the feeling of his chest rumbling against you quell your anger. Had you two ever been this physically close? Your pulse was racing and not just because of the exertion.

He let go of you after a moment and stepped back, his warmth leaving your space and suddenly you could breathe again. You turned and watched him walk towards the bench his gym bag was sitting on. After a long pull from his water bottle, he held the bottom of his t-shirt in his free hand and pulled it up, using it to dry his mouth.

The skin of someone’s lower back didn’t usually have the power to turn you into a puddle of soup but in this moment it did. You continued to watch him check his phone, hating that Bucky had such an effect on you. You two had never even had a real conversation, this was probably the closest you’d gotten to bonding, and he’d been nothing but a dick to you in the past almost hour.

So why did you like looking at him so much? You shook your head to clear it and refocused on Bucky’s relaxed stance as he scrolled through his phone.

“You turned your back on your opponent.”

Before you could convince yourself not to, you made the small distance that separated you and Bucky, and leapt towards his back. He turned at the last second and caught you in his arms, letting out a surprised noise, something between a yelp and a laugh, before dropping his phone and grabbing your legs which were now wrapped around his waist. Hands gripping at his shoulders, you tried to push all your weight forward to force him to the ground. You clung to him like a koala, refusing to give up as he tried to push you off, hands at your ribs.

You needed to topple his balance to get him to the floor so you dropped your connected ankles down over his ass and tightened them around his lower thighs. Pulling them towards you and pushing his shoulders away with your hands had him pulling his hands from your sides to stabilise behind him as he fell backwards onto the mat.

His eyes closed in pain with a groan as he rested his head back. You straightened yourself on his chest, knees on either side of his ribs. You placed your hands on his chest and smiled triumphantly, panting slightly. He cracked his eyes open and couldn’t help the grin that lit his face as he took you in. Straddling his chest, face flushed, hair wild, eyes even wilder, chest heaving, looking all around very dishevelled. Your skin was covered in dew making you look all the more soft. Have you ever looked more beautiful than this moment? Bucky thought distractedly.

You slapped his pectoral muscle playfully to get his attention. “I pinned you.”

He couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed when you were looking at him like that. Surprised self-pride had never looked so angelic.

“You did.”

“You shouldn’t have-“ His hands moved to your hips and your words got caught in your mouth. “You shouldn’t have.. turned your back.” You stuttered. Bucky’s smile turned into a smirk. “On me.” finishing breathily.

Bucky hummed in agreement. You tried to not revel in the vibration of his chest. You remembered something and turned your head towards where Bucky had been standing when you tackled him. You spotted his phone lying a meter away and huffed. “I think you broke your screen.” You teased.

Bucky couldn’t care less about the condition of his phone right now. He was looking up at you in awe and you seemed to be completely oblivious. You turned your attention back to him and he choked on a breath at the look you gave him.

“What are you staring at?” Bucky swallowed. “You.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Do I really look like that much of a mess?”

“You look beautiful.” You took a deep breath to steady your breathing and instantly regretted it when his cologne or whatever that heavenly smell was enveloped your senses. You turned your face away and scoffed. “Don’t try to sweet talk me out of my victory, I’m covered in sweat.”

Bucky’s grip tightened softly on your hips. Your eyes snapped back to his. “You do. You look.. unravelled.”

His eyes were looking at you so intensely you had to look away again. Staring at your hands on his heaving chest. Anywhere but his face. “You’re being awfully nice, for someone who just a minute ago was kicking my ass and calling me lazy.”

“I never called you lazy.”

“You called my punches lazy.”

Bucky hummed again. His flesh hand lifted towards you and he almost timidly brushed your hair back from your sweaty face. His knuckles brushed down your cheek and all the hard work you’d been putting into bringing your heart rate down was thrown out the window. You strained to keep your breathing normal. You weren’t going to let him see how much he affected you.

The metal hand that was still on your hip pulled you closer while his flesh hand cupped your cheek. You instinctively leaned into it and he guided your face closer to his. You were so close that you could feel his breath on your face. You could faintly smell the coffee from this morning. When he talked you felt the rumbling run through your whole body.

“Can I kiss you?”

You tried to keep your face neutral. Really, you did. Feigning nonchalance and focusing on keeping your tone flat, you said, “I won’t stop you.” It came out as more of a whisper and a wave of embarrassment came down on you because of how desperate you sounded. So much for keeping an air of composure.

He raised his eyebrows at you.

You cleared your throat begrudgingly. “Yes, Bucky, you can.”

His lips twitched into a small smile.

“Are you gonna make me say please?” You huffed.

Bucky looped the hand on your cheek around the back of your neck and pulled the two of you together. Your lips pressed in a long but chaste kiss and when he went to pull away you brought him back to your mouth. He opened his mouth and you were hooked on the taste of him. His hand curled into the base of your hair and you could feel him smiling into the kiss.

You fell forward until you were chest to chest and one of your arms landed next to his head, propping you up. You tangled the other hand into the hair your fingers had been itching to comb through since you’d met Bucky two months ago. You unconsciously gave a soft tug and he grunted into your mouth. The sound had you moving your hips down to find his and then he let out a much more needy noise. Instinctively you pushed your core against his and only when his metal fingers squeezed your hip did you realise what you’d just done.

You pulled back to catch your breath. Bucky panted underneath you with a blush on his cheeks and your face flushed. You were embarrassed and incredibly horny and you can’t believe you just grinded on Bucky during your first kiss.

Bucky gulped in a breath. “Why’d you stop?”

Your eyes widened further. “I thought.. I was, y’know, going too fast..” You were mumbling by the end of your sentence.

“It was just a kiss.”

You deliberately pushed your ass against his growing hard-on through his sweatpants for a second and then raised your brow at him stubbornly. He grinned bashfully and opened and shut his mouth several times before deciding on what he was going to say. “It was a good kiss.”

You pushed past your embarrassment and grinned back and when buck’s flesh hand pulled your face back to his and the metal hand moved you against his lap you didn’t complain.

═════

You were about five minutes into the session and both of you were panting and flushed and grinding against the other. You’d only pulled away to catch your breath and even then it hadn’t been for long. You could feel your wetness and you hoped to god Bucky couldn’t feel it through your gym leggings. But this time when he pulled back to breathe he had a smug smile on his face and you knew he could. His hand moved from your hip to just over your ass and with a nod from you he settled his hand and squeezed. You bit his lip a little too hard to tell him off and he grinned against your mouth.

His flesh hand now moved to cup the side of your neck and he began to pepper kisses up and down your neck and across your collarbone. You were trying to keep control of your reactions but you couldn’t hold back all the noises you were making. Bucky couldn’t either. You let out a particularly loud moan and jutted your hips when he found the sweet spot below your ear and Bucky let out an equal moan in response.

You must have looked quite a mess rubbing against him in the middle of the gym floor, gasping for breath. But whenever Bucky did open his eyes he’d look up at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and the shine in his eyes was enough to convince you that you were.

You pulled back reluctantly and when Bucky pouted underneath you, you leaned back down to quickly peck his lips a couple times. You were thinking of a way to phrase what you wanted to say when Bucky opened his mouth to say it for you.

His mouth snapped back shut when the sound of footsteps approached the training room and Steve’s voice carried through the open door, cutting through the tense silence.

“Y/N, you in here? Wanna spar? I know this morning you said you were covered but you usually ask me on Saturdays so I kept my whole schedule clear and now I have nothing to d-“ Steve’s rambling was cut short when he cleared the wall and took in the couple on the mat a few meters away from him.

Steve’s cheeks instantly flushed pink in a blush and his eyes shot to the ceiling. “Ah.”

“Steve. Get. Out.” Bucky growled in embarrassment.

“I see you two are busy sparring already.” Steve let out an embarrassed laugh and turned on his heel and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was embarrassed for himself or for you. Only when he was well away from the training room did you let out the breath you were holding.

Bucky cupped your cheek with his hand and turned your attention back to him.

“Hey, you okay?”

You reluctantly opened your eyes and took in Bucky’s face. His blush had doubled but he still looked utterly satisfied.

“Yeah. I think I should just.. go, take a shower or something.” You awkwardly climbed off Bucky’s lap and calmly bolted for the door, grabbing your gym bag on the way out.

Bucky stared in bewilderment at the door you’d just disappeared through and let his head fall back to the mat with a sigh. Even with the sting of your hasty departure he couldn’t stop the smile that broke through onto his face.

part 2

═════

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[pettyprocrastination]

Homie your dreams. Wtf. Sounds like you’re stressed and your brain is trying to sort things out while you sleep but there’s a lot of input to sift through.

CERTAINLY SEEMS LIKE IT

(this is just a personal vent please dont feel obligated to read or respond i just need a live journal lmao)

I think there's just been...SO much im stressing out about and I can't really stop it because there's no way to. It's finals week so thats been stressing me out, i just went to the dentist this week which wasn't bad, but i get like anxiety about health issues and the usual "what if i have a disease/horrible illness slowly getting worse and have no clue until it's too late" and then also ive just been stressing out about school because I feel like im not doing enough despite it only being my first semester at university after my transfer, but for some reason im still in the system as a sophmore despite the fact that im supposed to be a junior so now im worried about graduating late, and the thought of internships because my professor said one internship isnt enough and students should be looking to do 2-3 and just the thought that ill graduate with no experience in my field and no idea what to do and wont be able to find a job with it. I feel like everybody else has plans and knows what theyre doing and im just floundering about trying to keep my head above water. Usually tumblr has been my recharge space from that but the past few months I havent been able to write more than a few pages to any wip because I feel like my writing has fallen off and it isnt good anymore so there isn't a reason to do it despite writing being the SINGLE thing im remotely good at and aspiration I have

[pandemicstress]

Black Lives Matter and the Pandemic

I met Caroline, a young black professional, a few years ago when we both served as volunteers on a committee. My experience of Caroline was that she was a capable, hardworking go-getter. She gave so much to a cause that paid nothing and she grew as a leader as a consequence of her service.

Although I didn’t know Caroline in a professional environment, it was obvious to me that she would be a high performer who went the extra mile for her employer and her team. I interviewed her in June 2020 as part of my project to understand how the pandemic impacted people.

Caroline leads a team of young black people and had been in the job for a year before the pandemic. She reports to the General Manager of her organization. For some time, Caroline wanted to promote remote work for the team but her manager was reluctant. With the onset of lockdown and the pandemic, she finally had the chance to test the approach.

Personally, Caroline enjoyed working at home and in saving a lot of time in the commute. In the first month, Caroline applied herself to helping her team cope. This entailed checking on them, making sure they had breaks and keeping an eye on the team communications. As time went on and the team adapted, she applied herself to dealing with some clashes that took place with some team members. It was fascinating to watch how some team members just shut down. In the early days of online meetings, Caroline asked one young lady a question and she started to flounder even though she knew the answer and she does a great job. Caroline had to speak to her privately afterwards to explain that she’s not being interrogated but rather Caroline was seeking clarity and that she can feel free to speak openly.

The company has done well considering the pandemic and many other companies did not manage to withstand the lockdown and the difficulties associated with the changes. The company had to adjust its plans for growth as a result of the pandemic. A few clients paused their work for a period but most clients continued as planned. They lost a big client but this was already on the cards and was not a result of the pandemic or anything that Caroline did. In fact, they gained a big new client which led them to make some changes. This is true for almost all businesses in that they have had to make material changes in response to the pandemic and the reaction of clients. These changes have been beneficial considering their client base and the offerings they provide.

Caroline did not have a good relationship with her manager before the pandemic. He did things like hold meetings with staff without inviting her, and then challenging her as to why she didn’t know about some things. Caroline called him on it and things were better for a while. He is very money oriented but her focus is the delivery and wellbeing of the team.

Her manager seemed very stressed by the impacts of the pandemic. He went into survival mode and his own stress spilled over in the way he treated her. He blamed Caroline for revenue dropping in the year that she had been in the organization. However, he failed to acknowledge that the revenue was already on its way down when she joined the business and he excluded data that showed some upturn.

A few years ago, Caroline read Arianna Huffington’s book, Thrive, and implemented approaches to improve her self-care, such as getting enough sleep. Her manager’s unwarranted attack really impacted her. She started drinking more alcohol in the evenings and she stopped eating well and exercising for about two weeks. She had planned to remain in the job for about three years to achieve her own goals and growth, was well as to support her team. She realized that she might not be able to fulfil her promise because of the stress and the relationship with her manager. There were also the financial stakes of looking for a new job in a market that is not hiring. This treatment made her doubt whether she could endure it and her self-care took a back seat.

Caroline thrives on challenges. She loves to push her body and mind such as participating in the 75 Hard Program – a regimen created by Andy Frisella which entails exercising twice a day for 45 minutes, drinking 4 litres of water and following a healthy diet of zero alcohol or cheat days for 75 consecutive days.

On Facebook she was participating in a group that offered a challenge to read empowering books. The participants were offered five books to consider and she reluctantly chose one - The Miracle Morning by Hal Elrod. She devoured the book in about three days and quickly integrated the practices into her day. This included meditation, exercise, journaling, visualizations, reading and affirmations designed to improve one’s mindset.

Caroline experienced a major shift as a result of reading this book. She got back into exercise, she did the affirmations, visualizations and meditations which were new experiences for her. She also read a pile of other books as part of this experience such as Think and Grow Rich and It Takes What It Takes.

She managed life so much better since starting the process and changing her morning routine. Her energy became directed towards her goals and she realized that journaling is an excellent tool to manage emotions and to purge frustrations so that they don’t interfere with the rest of the day. There is research behind this philosophy of journaling to release strong emotions. James Pennebaker’s studies show that regular journaling about traumatic events can lower stress and improve happiness.

She learnt that negative thoughts are powerful and hard to stop. Positive words are powerful but negative words and thoughts have a deeper impact. Caroline learnt how to shift from thinking about negative things to a more neutral approach and to use positive wording as a driver for good experiences.

The next time her manager started complaining, she wasn’t negatively affected at all. She just explained calmly and answered all his questions. She even had a good day despite his bad behaviour. During her morning routine, she told herself that she was going to have an awesome day, and she did as a result of using this technique.

I asked Caroline about her feeling on the Black Lives Matter movement. She kept wondering when will this police brutality and racial discrimination stop? It’s her 20-year reunion at school and some of the current pupils spoke out about micro aggressions they had experienced. The school tried to shut it down instead of addressing it openly. Some of the alumnae got together and raised the issue because they are upset that it’s still going on. With lockdown, she feels that conversations emerged that would not otherwise have been heard.

In the South African context, although the black population is the majority, she feels that police brutality happens here on a class level. Many black people who are working class suffer many indignities which is not fair. Given our history of Apartheid and the fight for human rights, it is important that it does not persist.

Caroline feels that Black Lives Matter is about more than murder. It’s about unequal pay, having to work ten times harder than a white counterpart to be considered for positions. Because of government’s affirmative action policies, people have assumed that she’s in her role because of the colour of her skin and not there out of merit, even when they know she does good work.

She is often shocked that people insult her or assume she’s incompetent in a workplace that feels built around white culture and standards. She has to fight so hard to be seen as competent. When she was doing her accounting articles, one manager did not believe her when she got a distinction. He thought she was lying and that was deeply offensive. There are still some who think that black people are subhuman.

She participated in Blackout Tuesday in June 2020, an action to protest police brutality and racism. She intentionally supports black owned businesses. She reads books by black authors. She buys petrol at black-owned petrol stations and supports any black-owned business in buying their products. It’s taking the responsible sourcing to a new level and she urges others to do the same.

I admire Caroline for her work ethic, her tenacity and her focus on personal growth. It is clear that she will be successful in anything she applies herself to. She has great plans in becoming an entrepreneur and one of her hobbies is to evaluate businesses and offer advice in improving the status quo. Although the pandemic highlighted pre-existing tensions between Caroline and her manager, she has found ways to cope and to rise above petty accusations and bad leadership. Personally, I am passionate about self-care and avoiding burnout and my hope for Caroline is in finding joy in her work and balance in her life going forward.

[offansandflames]

Life Update

Okay y’all, gather round.

I’m posting this for any friends I haven’t been able to keep in the loop, people who read Inked (so they understand the delays), and anyone who has some time to piss away listening to me whine.

So, the good news: My friend, Mikey, is doing a little better! I was finally able to reach him, after him going off the grid for nearly a week. He still doesn’t have anywhere to live but is getting food stamps. Being able to eat has helped his T-cell count rebound a bit, but AIDS remains a bitch. I’ve connected him with housing resources.

Aaand the bad news: My Bipolar has flared up to the point where I’ve had to go on short-term disability. Being a two-yeared salaried, full-time employee, I’m enabled to take legally-protected sick leaves. So basically, I’ve kept my full-time job but will be out for at least a month...hopefully not longer. I’m using the time to apply for new jobs as well, because I was miserable at my old one.

I was on disability for my brain tumor and Bipolar from 2009-2014. Now I have four uninterrupted years of post-MBA work experience behind me, and I pray that I won’t have to go back on SSDI.

The cognitive effects alone could render me incapable of doing my job. It’s a very high profile job, the sort of job where you need to be on your game every minute. At the snap of a finger, with no notice whatsoever, I can (and have been) called into the office of someone who runs a $40 billion business, one-on-one. The brain fog is so severe. I’m supposed to be a “regional genius” by some standards, but I’m going around like a fumbling moron.

I’ll forget what I’m going to say and stop in the middle of sentences, forget things... I have a hard time grocery shopping, because I walk loops around the store forgetting why I’m there to begin with. Learning and retaining information is insanely difficult. I’ve been doing puzzles to keep my mind active. It’s quite embarrassing, though it’s not so bad to be embarrassed in front of strangers as it is to be embarrassed in front of your whole company.

Then the dissociation. People will be talking, and all of the sudden I just feel...not there. I can’t describe what I’m thinking at this time, because it feels like my very consciousness is just...gone. If I’m in conversation, their voices echo in my head, and it’s like they’re speaking an unknown foreign language. I sometimes even lose track of where I am. Everything looks and sounds so far away. Am I outside? In a building? It feels like I’m drowning, floundering to put my head above water so that I can come back into myself again. So that I can consciously be.

Then there’s the anxiety and the depression, of course. The self-hatred, the fear that I have no idea what I’m doing with my life and will make wrong decision after wrong decision. That I’m forever inadequate, and those who believe I’m not have been manipulated and tricked by me, and I just didn’t realize I was doing it. Not smart enough, not reliable enough, not strong enough, not hard-working enough... Daydreaming about ending it but understanding that what I really want is a break from this damned headspace, not death.

I’ve had the flu for a week, so I’ve been particularly inactive. Sam, and more surprisingly, my mother, have been extremely supportive and sympathetic about my general situation, as have my friends. But I can’t keep up with the communications.

So everyone, know that I am and will be okay. At this point, I can confidently tell you that I will not injure myself in any way. Bipolar is by nature cyclical, so I’m hoping that as months pass, I will begin to normalize.

[jt--snow]

Short story Excerpt

I was asked to post some of my writing, so here’s the beginning of one of my stories that was rejected about five or six times for publication. 

Water in the aquarium sparkled in the sunlight drawn from the early afternoon, heavy cloud cover predicted to extinguish it. Henry sat, his posture withdrawn, on a metal chair framed with polyester covering, waiting. He was dressed as he always was, proper and crisp, unaware that the design theme behind his entire wardrobe signified a complete lack of self. But that was the point of what he was. He was unaware of this as well.

There were about twenty fish in the aquarium. They all seemed to suggested an exotic tropical locale for place of origin. Henry always wanted to see places like that, where the sands were white and the water translucent, shimmering. It was, really, the exact opposite of where he lived, where the eighteen years of his existence passed in isolation. Being educated on this, that, everything. Except advanced mathematics. His fellow students were all somehow more adept at that subject, whereas Henry was, as Dr. Fielding explained to him politely as he could, “exceptionally stupid”. Not that this should be a mark on his character, the doctor followed up. No, indeed, he surpassed those who came before in English Literature, Latin, Physics, Metaphysics, World Religions, and so on. It baffled Fielding and his team, Henry was told, that he could be so gifted in all these, but also simultaneously be as good at solving differential equations as a block of wood.

The headmaster of the institute’s school, Dr. Uriah, entered the room through a hidden chamber behind his bookshelf. He was a portly man, weighing about two hundred and fifty pounds. He was a tall man, typically measured in the range of six-foot-three. His face was adorned with a heavy beard, half-moon spectacles, and a full head of graying hair, a widow’s peak reaching toward his long nose. Uriah sat down in his leather armchair, folded his hands together, and stared directly into Henry’s eyes. Dr. Uriah’s eyes changed color depending on his mood, Henry liked to think, and today they were gray.

“Well,” Uriah began. “Here we are.”

“Yes,” Henry said. His oral presentations were never any good either, the butterflies in his stomach always managing to escape from his mouth.

“I’ve been looking over your record. Top marks in Latin, French, German, English Literature. Above average in topics regarding philosophy and history. Average marks in the sciences and business acumen. And horrifically, and some might say uncharacteristically, abysmal marks in mathematics.”

“Yes.”

“Explain.”

Henry looked up at the ceiling. He loosened his necktie a bit. “Numbers don’t make sense to me is all.”

“Numbers are the most sensical thing in the universe,” Uriah argued, completely missing the point. “And as your Logic marks tell me, you ought to understand that.”

Henry shrugged mildly.

“H-012,” Uriah pressed on, “you could very well have a promising future laid out before you. You could become something admirable, as those who came before have done. But these mathematics scores… how am I to explain them to anyone outside of my colleagues?”

“Isn’t it in my brain chemistry,” Henry ventured, “that I’m bad at math?”

“Your brain chemistry was designed so that you were good at math, as everything else. The average scores are, well, to be expected. Simple technical flaws that be overlooked. Your math ability, that’s what we consider dangerous territory. It implies there’s a malfunction.”

“But there’s not,” Henry said.

“Your father was a mathematical genius. The other students in your year all possess near-expert level understanding of the subject by the fifth grade. You were floundering since day one. Your marks in kindergarten? Tell me, H-012, do you know the multiples of 12?”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

“Um,” Henry sputtered. “12, uh, 24… uh, shit—”

“Language.”

“Sorry.”

“So you’re essentially telling me you don’t know what 12 multiplied by 3 is.”

“I know 12 times 12 is 144.”

“Yes, but in between 2 and 12, you don’t know?”

“No, sir.”

“You are just one in four who didn’t,” Uriah said. “E-014, G-125, G-088, and A-399 didn’t either.”

“What, what happened to them?”

“One of them is a claims adjuster. The other three died of drug overdoses. Is that what you want to happen to you?”

“I could be a claims adjuster,” Henry offered.

“No, your aptitudes lie elsewhere,” Uriah told him. “Professorship comes up an awful lot in your career tests. But then again, so does biochemical engineer for whatever reason. So I feel the matter rests with me.”

“Okay,” Henry said.

“I’m sending you off to an apprenticeship,” Uriah said. “His name is James Stanford, self-employed as a carpenter in the Santa Monica Mountains. He will teach you discipline, rigor, resilience. Which apparently you don’t possess as of now.”

“Because I’m bad at math?”

“And your social time scores are somehow worse,” Uriah sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’ve failed to make a single stable relationship in eighteen years. Our claims adjuster friend managed that. Our telemarketers and athletic coaches managed that.”

“The malfunction, maybe?”

“I see no other possibility,” Uriah said wearily. “You might be the single most defective student I’ve had.”

“Statistically, it was bound to happen,” Henry said, trying out a smile. Uriah glared at him and it vanished.

“You failed statistics twice, H-012,” Uriah scolded him. “And that’s not even a mathematics course. I’m afraid I just don’t understand you. Which is why I’m having our genetics team investigate your particular strand of DNA while you’re away. See if they can’t find a stripped protein or an absence of serotonin in your brain.”

“How long will I be away for?” Henry asked.

“Six months,” Uriah answered. “Oh, I almost forgot. You’ll be living in a colony amongst those like you. Genetic failures, so to speak. You’ll be tested every so often on your progress to see if you can truly reach your potential. The program doesn’t always work, mind you, but we are proud to boast a 91% success rate.”

“That’s a redundancy,” Henry pointed out.

“What is?”

“The ‘we are proud to boast’. Boasting implies pride.”

Uriah glared at Henry, his eyes unmoving. Henry could hear the headmaster’s teeth grinding behind his beard. “Yes. Quite. Your plane leaves tomorrow at 10 a.m. A cab will be waiting at the front gates at 9:30. Don’t be late.”

Henry nodded. “Am I free to go?”

“One more thing,” Uriah lifted his index finger from his collection of flesh on the desktop. “If the genetics team does indeed find a defect or malfunction in you, and you fail to meet the standards of the apprenticeship, you will be reworked. Do you understand?”

Henry nodded.

“You may go.”

Henry stood up, straightened his tie, and took one last look at the fish. He realized a most were angelfish, yellow tangs, or goldfish. He noticed that the lone moorish idol stayed away from them, keeping to itself in its own little corner. He wondered if the idol had a defect, too.

Probably not, he thought. It’s a fucking fish. 

I claim copyright through the creative commons license. 

[verdigrisprowl]

An Unscheduled Meeting

Starscream visits Prowl to begin discussing the process of transitioning him from prisoner to parolee. Intense political scheming ensued. Favorite line: “You're completely missing the point of the metaphor, /I'm/ the salami.”

Prowl: *is at his desk up on the mezzanine. Has been for some days now; he finally got tired of sleeping.* Prowl: *At the very least he can get a head start on the work he'll need to do once he's allowed back out to the construction site.* Starscream: *BOOM BABY. You have a guest. That guest is your boss. He should have probably called ahead but he didn't.* Starscream: *He's knocking on the doorframe, at least* Hope you're decent, Prowl. Prowl: You have the cameras, can't you check? *he is, in fact, decent.* Prowl: *and not even the shock of an unannounced visit will prevent him from counter-sassing Starscream.* Prowl: *stands to lean over his desk and look at the next floor down.* What are you doing here? *wasn't there a whole thing about starscream pretending he WASN'T associating with prowl?* Starscream: I could, but for some reason they don't always seem to keep up with your activity. Starscream: Now Prowl, that's no way to treat your employer and your imminant liberator. Prowl: *dryly* If Primus himself walked in my room I'd still ask him what he's— *beat* ... Come again? Starscream: *smirks* For the past several months you've been working away tirelessly to redeem yourself to the people of Cybertron. I think the time has come to take the next step. Prowl: ... You think it's had that much of an impact? I've been monitoring the comment sections of news articles that mention me, but... *but prowl is shiit at reading people, big masses of people included.* Prowl: *also nobody ever visits the comments section of news articles when they have something nice to say.* Prowl: *all right, this is more important than his desk work, he's coming down the stairs* Starscream: Well, you're certainly staying in the public eye, and that's far better than fading into obscurity. Of everything on Cybertron it's the task of rebuilding that is the most important, and you've stayed Starscream: at the forefront of the efforts. Starscream: I won't claim that there's been a widespread total reversal of sttitudes (WAIT I HAVE WATER BOILING ONE SEC) Starscream: (okay back) Prowl: (o7) Starscream: I won't claim that there's been a total reversal of attitude, as that would probably take the physical elimination of detractors. But as for a growing apathy? Starscream: We can use that. Starscream: 8I And im not interested in waiting until you've truely become Cybertron's golden boy to be able to use you strategically, or there'll probably be none of your processor left from construction acciden Prowl: Pf. Apathy. It sets in so fast. *what else does he expect out of neutrals, though.* Prowl: So you think conditions have changed enough that we can start relaxing some of the terms of my containment? To what extent? *gonna park himself in the kitchen and lean on a counter* Starscream: Hn. What I would like is to start utilizing your investigative experience. I'm not sure if I could let you completely off the leash as things are, however. Starscream: We have apathy and sympathy on our side, not completely blind idiocy. Prowl: ... Investigative ability? As a— You mean as a—like, a police officer? Starscream: ..yes? Is that weird? Prowl: *Well. Yes. Prowl was NOT expecting that. Was expecting to be used for his ability to strategize. Combat and politics. How to kill people and make it look like an accident.* Prowl: ... No. Of course not. That's... How are you going to sell THAT to the public? Prowl: Or is it to remain secret, too? Starscream: *Look he plans to use you for a lot of things. Most of the things you listed could be done as a cop* Starscream: I haven't decided yet. What I have decided is that my current enforcer force is worefully inadequate and inept. Prowl: *SNORT* You don't say. Starscream: So? Are you interested in finally getting out of your cage? Prowl: *pause* ... Of course. Prowl: I assume you have a plan for how you'll explain this to the public? Starscream: More or less. I'm still working out the fine detail on if I want to start releasing rumors before the official annoucement,. Starscream: The overall plan is to make a formal announcement on your change of satus, how you've proven willing to work for Cybertron's good. Prowl: Hmm. Prowl: The benefit of said potential rumors? Starscream: To ease the populace into the idea rather than immediately dropped onto them. Prowl: ... Hm. Prowl: You could potentially accomplish the same results without the... stigma that comes with rumors. Prowl: Make official statements about my improvement and how that reflects on my potential for assisting Cybertron, that sort of thing. Prowl: It sounds more... legitimate than rumors. Rumors suggest you're doing it behind the population's backs. *which he IS, but that's not the image they want.* Starscream: Rumors can't be directly traced back, nor provide a place for complaints. Prowl: But they can stir up discontent. Prowl: ... Maybe a combination? Rumors from below and positive official statements from above? Starscream: Acceptable. We may need more than that. Do you have anything to add weight to your new... I don't know, direction in life or whatever? Prowl: ... When I have an opportunity, I intend to publicly announce my resignation from the Autobots. Prowl: *"resignation." like being an Autobot was a job, instead of citizenship in a small militarized nation.* Starscream: That may work. The NAILS and their importance on neutrality and all. Starscream: Hmm. I'm not sure about allowing you full enforcer power yet, though. Perhaps a smaller assignment for now. Prowl: That's probably prudent. The public is used to seeing me as a criminal; they'll have to be eased into seeing me as somebody who /opposes/ crime. Prowl: ... What sort of assignment? Starscream: Something that allows you to oppose crime in a visible manner. Prowl: ... Nothing staged. Starscream: Hmph, fine. Nothing staged, though it will take slightly longer then. Prowl: I'm patient. True crime will minimize the risk that someone figures it out and a real scandal starts. Starscream: Very well. So, you have no objections to rising above the common construction worker? Prowl: ... There are several things wrong with that sentence. Prowl: Regardless, I—think I should... At least in part, I think I should—continue that work. Prowl: Cybertron DOES need to be rebuilt. That's not just a publicity stunt to help me look good. I'm no master architect; but no one else here is, either. Unlike most, though, I have the... the potential. Prowl: ... To at least help. Starscream: And your collection of gaudy colored roomates has nothing to do with it. Prowl: ... I didn't pick up that potential /alone./ They know the field; I don't. I have a head for numbers and graphs; they don't. Prowl: *but oh, is he chagrined to admit it. the corners of his mouth sink in a scowl.* Starscream: *snickers* Technically they have the head for more than just construction, now. Prowl: *scowl deepens* As long as nothing can be done about it, it might as well be used for Cybertron's benefit. Starscream: Hmph. As long as you're available when I need you to do something,  I don't care what you do on the side. Starscream: It certainly won't hurt Cybertron any. Prowl: It will have to be scheduled. For now, as far as Iacon is concerned, reconstruction isn't "on the side," it's my main duty. Starscream: I don't care what Cybertron this is your main duty. Prowl: I know you don't. But you'll care when they start wondering if I'm up to something fishy. All I'm saying is that even if my construction work is significantly reduced, I still need a regular schedule. Starscream: Very well. Do you have any other concerns? Prowl: For starters, timeframe. What happens next, and when does it happen? Starscream: We start by releasing rumors and positive official statements that may not explicitly mention your impending release but hint at it. Prowl: When? Immediately, or...? Prowl: Immediately would be best to capitalize on my recent injury. I think I won some sympathy with that. Starscream: Agreed. Apathy may be in our favor in somethings, but sympathy should be taken advantage of Prowl: How long will that stage last? Prowl: And is there anything *I* should be doing during it? Right now, while I'm not working, I'm not in the public eye. I don't know if that's working for or against us. Starscream: Hmm. Perhaps an interview or two... Starscream: I don't suppose you have a heartfelt, grandoise speech prepared expressing your change of ways? Prowl: ... No, but I could write one. Prowl: Interview-with-the-news interview? On what justification? Do you think that's—safe? *prowl is not known for being personable* Starscream: Hearing your side of things. Though- ....yes, you're right. You don't exactly have my flair for public address. Starscream: We'd probably do more harm than good. Prowl: *he'd be offended if it wasn't completely true* Prowl: How much control do you have over the media? Could we control what questions I received so I could prepare ahead of time? Starscream: *drums fingers on arm* I believe I can get a reporter that can be trusted not to improvise on a script, yes. Starscream: In a pinch we could cut the feed, but that looks nearly as bad as watching you flounder. Prowl: At least if I flounder, some people might pity me. Starscream: Your reputation of being not the best speaker is probably widespread enough to facilitate that. Prowl: Probably not among neutrals. But if they don't know yet, they might well find out. Starscream: So. Is there anything else? Prowl: Yes. Once I am liberated—what are the limits and parameters? I assume that, at the start, this will be more like parole than like a full pardon? Prowl: Curfew, escorts, limits to how far I can travel, et cetera? Starscream: Indeed. As public opinion of you improves we can loosen restrictions, but for now- Starscream: You won't be able to directly enter any part of Metroplex, especially anything near the bridge or his processor. Starscream: I'd rather not have Windblade of all mechs be the one to assasinate me over this. Starscream: You will have an escort at all times, either another mech or a drone of some sort. Starscream: Curfew... hn. I dont know what would unsettle mechs more, your sulking around during the off cycle or when most of them are active. Prowl: ... In general, the off cycle, but they'd have to be confronted less often with the fact of my partial freedom because less people would see me. Prowl: Pff. It would probably be most convenient to just not go outside at all. Starscream: You won't be very useful if you stay inside all of the time. They'll never get used to you that way. Prowl: ... What about holomatter? I have an avatar that looks like—well—MOSTLY like me. Perhaps it would go over better with the public if they knew the version of me that was walking around wasn't real? Prowl: They could get used to seeing me in public and still know I wasn't actually there. Starscream: Hmm. That may work. And you would naturally be limited to the area the holomatter can be projected to, so they wouldn't have to worry about you being where you shouldn't. Prowl: That's a four hundred mile radius. Starscream: ...okay, more limited than that. Prowl: So we tell them it isn't four hundred miles. Starscream: What happened to not straight up lying? Prowl: Fine. So we ask them to deal with the fact that I can, and have always been able to, appear anywhere at any time in avatar form, and the only reason I don't is because I choose not to. Prowl: I think that will go over well. Starscream: *snorts* I didn't say we WOULDNT lie to them. Starscream: Confined to holomatter appearences, unable to affect suspects, etc. Prowl: Will my avatar need an escort? Starscream: Yes, since it's acting in your place. Prowl: Hm. I'm not going to start bringing an escort to my movie nights. Prowl: Cybertron doesn't know about those anyway. Starscream: Oh, speaking of... who among your movie night escapades is your invisible guest? I would expect that's where you met them, anyway. Prowl: He wouldn't be showing up invisible if he wanted you to know that, would he? Starscream: Which is why I'm asking you, not rigging up some elaborate paint trap. Prowl: *pictures tarantulas dripping in paint. snorts.* Prowl: He's a useful resource. And a decent distraction when I'm sick to my stomach of Constructicons. That's what matters. Starscream: And someone you feel it's best I don't know the identity of. Starscream: Hmph. Whatever, I'll find out eventually. Prowl: As I said. He DOES show up invisible. Prowl: Have you ever heard people say that cesium salami is only good as long as you don't know how it's made? Prowl: The Autobots learned to view my work the same way. My invisible visitor is useful to you, through me. That's what matters. Prowl: Don't think too hard about the salami. Starscream: ...you're dating someone you just compared to a questionable food. Prowl: One—interfacing, not dating. Two—I'm the questionable food. Keep up. Starscream: You're probably both questionable. Is it at leat only one invisible visitor or is it a parade of see-through guests making a mockery of security. Prowl: Do you really want to know? Starscream: Yes, actually. Prowl: You're asking how the salami's made. Prowl: *prowl doesn't metaphor very often but when he does he commits* Starscream: I would like to know if I should even maintain the facade of security around here, or if I should just give up and have whatever cameras are still functional taken down. Starscream: I'm asking how many ingrediants are in the salami. Prowl: Well, if you'd like to take them down, I wouldn't mind. Starscream: That was not a number. Prowl: "One." *with finger quotes.* Starscream: ......that isn't a useful answer. Prowl: How sad for you. Starscream: Before you engage me in a battle of pettiness, please remember who you're talking to. Prowl: I never forget. Prowl: I could give you another number now. Ask yourself if you'll believe whatever it is I say. Starscream: So. At least one guest with enough importance that you refuse to identify them. Starscream: Can I trust that you at least remember who you're working for once we begin your route to parole? Or should I be on the lookout for more rebellious spirit. Prowl: I didn't tell Optimus all my resources either. That doesn't mean they weren't utilized for his benefit. It doesn't mean they won't be utilized for yours. Starscream: Somehow I'm not reassured. I wonder why that might be. Prowl: Probably because you think I'm the kind of second that you were. Starscream: Probably. After all I know you've only agreed to work for me as long as my goals benefit Cybertron. Starscream: Right so- rumors, interview questions, holomatter restrictions and escort. Prowl: Right. Prowl: ... And in the meantime, I wait in here? Or am I going back to the construction site soon? Starscream: Here. I don't want any more poles through your head and at leat it'll be slightly more difficult here. Starscream: Depending on what your salami does with you. Prowl: You're completely missing the point of the metaphor, /I'm/ the salami. Starscream: Then what does that make him? Prowl: One of the ingredients you don't want to know about. Prowl: ... Wait. No. That didn't come out right. Prowl: My work. Is the salami. I'm the salami-maker, he's an ingredient. Starscream: ...*pinches the bridge of his nose. This is getting painful* Starscream: Alright Salami Maker, is there anything else I need to cover? Prowl: ... I'm rethinking my stance on whether I want the interview to be cut off if it goes badly. Starscream: And? Prowl: I think that's it. Prowl: ... Curfew. We didn't resolve... We can mess with that later. Starscream: Indeed. Prowl: I suppose that's it. Starscream: Good. Enjoy the rest of your day. Or whatever. Prowl: Mm. Prowl: ... Start sending me what data you have on your enforcers. I want to know what I'm going to be getting into. Starscream: Very well. You're going to hate it, though. Prowl: Oh, I know. Prowl: *he has stopped scowling just long enough to give the bitterest smirk. he knows. he's seen them at work.*

(And then we assumed that was a good enough conclusion and Starscream left the end.)

[arcaneranger]

Final Thoughts - Spring 2018

Oh, I am so very late on this one, but in my defense, I did warn that I had too much to watch during the spring, so much so that I actually have to have MAL open in another tab while I’m writing this just to remember everything.

I’ll start with what I skipped.

* Tokyo Ghoul:re, FLCL Alternative, Hozuki’s Coolheadedness Season 2 and High School DxD Hero because I have neither watched the previous seasons nor read the manga.

* Cutie Honey Universe and Gurazeni because by the time I would have gotten to them, I had only heard bad things.

* Dragon Pilot: Hisone to Masotan because Netflix picked it up and we’ll have to wait until September for it.

* Gegege no Kitaro because I didn’t hear any buzz about it and frequently forget that it even exists, I’ll get around to it if enough people ask me to.

* Full Metal Panic! Invisible Victory because Funimation has inexplicably removed the dub from VRV and that’s how I want to experience it.

* Kakuriyo: Bed and Breakfast for Spirits because I already watched Konohana Kitan and didn’t see much of a difference.

* Captain Tsubasa because Viz licensed it and then just kinda sat on it everywhere except the Philippines.

* Inazuma Eleven because it just went completely unlicensed/unloved.

So, with those out of the way, from the bottom to the top, here’s everything I did manage this season.

Worst of the Season: Fist of the Blue Sky Re:Genesis (2/10)

Oh my god, it’s just the ugliest thing this side of Berserk. I don’t remember a damn thing about this one, and I’d bet that most people who watched it are with me on this one, because I was just distracted by how astoundingly awful the CG production in this show is.

Butlers x Battlers (3/10)

Ugh, what a boring slog of a premiere. I still pretty vividly remember this one, if only because it’s so painfully generic that it swung all the way around to be memorable again. Butlers spent almost its entire first episode on absolutely nothing before remembering in the last five minutes that it was supposed to have a plot and smash-cutting to it in the middle of a scene.

Caligula (3/10)

Where to start? After one of the most interesting premieres of the season, this adaptation pretty immediately sank into complete nonsense, and it’s such a massive waste of potential that this was the work of the writers behind the original Persona titles. Caligula is a show where the main characters literally forget the plot is happening and decide to go to a theme park while they’re trapped in a virtual world with a bunch of digi-zombies trying to murder them. Are you kidding me?

Devils’ Line (3/10)

I just did my write-up for this, so it’s a little fresher in my mind, but honestly, it’s just Twilight with adults and the edge factor turned up, and it looks damn silly trying to be as serious as it is. Sentai needs to choose a little more carefully than this if they want to promote their new service.

Libra of Nil Admirari (3/10)

This one was just so boring to look at that I don’t remember anything except that books were evil and it was a visual novel adaptation.

Dances With the Dragons (4/10)

I’m aware that I use the word “generic” an awful lot, but this season’s worst had quite a lot of that quality, and it applies here, too. Trying its hardest to be a mid-aughts grimdark action piece, it just does almost nothing interesting in its premiere, aside from giving the protagonist an already-existing girlfriend, which may have just been an attempt to quell any yaoi-baiting the two main dudes have going for them, because her only qualities demonstrated were “can’t cook” and “looks hot”.

Real Girl (4/10)

As I said in my write-up, I wanted so badly to like this one, but you need a budget of more than fifty cents to make an anime, and nearly every shot betrays just how little the studio was working with. We’re talking about the kind of show where the main cast goes to a summer festival, and appear to be the only people there. The story and writing just aren’t enough to make me put up with it.

Gundam Build Divers (4/10)

What a total letdown from this franchise. Fighters was an incredibly well-written show that was aimed at kids but could appeal to all Gundam fans, Try was divisive but the people that liked it (like me) got a lot out of it, but Divers just flounders. A relatively decent first episode gives way to episode after episode of Villain of the Week shenanigans that I cannot bring myself to care about because the main cast just aren’t interesting; they’re pretty much just generic shonen cardboard cutouts. This was one case where I was almost hoping for a sudden death game turnaround, because the idea of a bunch of kids being trapped in a game with lots of adults and giant robots would at least be a workable plot, but just fighting Team Rocket over and over again is boring schlock.

Magical Girl Ore (4/10)

I held out hope for too long on this one, but I had an inkling from the beginning that the humor was just going to turn me way, way off, and I was right. This one just carried too many bad implications if you thought about it, and they all piled up and crashed down on me the more I tried to keep going.

Magical Girl Site (4/10)

This show just couldn’t stay above water. The writing only got dumber as the plot carried on, and the fact that I was still watching became embarrassing, because most of the community watched one episode of this and dropped it like a hot rock. Hopefully I’ve learned my lesson.

Darling in the FRANXX (5/10)

What total bull, huh? I’ve never seen public opinion on a show turn around as fast as the community ripped Darling to shreds. While it’s visually gorgeous (most of the time), the writing in the second half of the show is just humiliating to everyone involved, as the script becomes a child Godzilla-stomping through a carefully-constructed castle of wood blocks. Once again, I yearn for Inferno Cop.

Persona 5 the Animation (5/10)

I said for the longest time during the lead-up to P5A that I didn’t really see the point of it. Persona 5 is the fastest-selling game in the franchise, and ultimately an adaptation would only serve to recap the plot, because that’s all it would have time to do in only six months. I actually enjoyed Persona 4 The Golden Animation, because it sold itself as a companion piece to the existing plot rather than a retread of it, and seeing the Scooby Gang just hanging out more was precisely what I wanted from it. A-1 Pictures just didn’t learn enough from the sins of Ace Attorney, because while this is better, it’s still not worth watching if you’ve played the game.

Last Period (5/10)

This one got some early buzz for halfway-decent production work and a skewering of gacha-based RPGs, but ultimately ended up repeating itself so often that it became boring, and sidelining the highlight of the show (the villain trio Wiseman) into having barely a few lines per episode. Just goes to show what happens when repeated gags get stale.

Now that those are out of the way, we can get to the stuff I actually finished!

Legend of the Galactic Heroes: Die Neue These (6/10)

Barely worth watching for how badly condensed the plot is, and barely worth talking about until the movies happen. That’s assuming we actually get them stateside, but I won’t hold my breath on that one. I coulodn’t even find a decent GIF for this one.

Crossing Time (6/10)

A fun, yet not especially memorable set of vignettes about people waiting for the train to go by. Some of the episodes were less enjoyable than others, but still worth a watch if only because it’ll only take you half an hour and anything you don’t like will probably be over quickly.

Golden Kamuy (6/10)

The last thing I finished for the season, Golden Kamuy’s failure to live up to high expectations lies in its inability to focus on its serious tone, constantly inserting dick jokes into its brutal fight scenes and dragging a poop joke on for entirely too long throughout the show, but it’s still good-looking enough to be worth watching, and it was the only decent show this season to pull out the announcement of a continuation in its last episode, without which it probably wouldn’t have gotten a pass from me.

Umamusume: Pretty Derby (7/10)

I still am amazed by the legwork that went into this silly little mobile game adaptation. While parts of it remain half-assed and unnecessary (the random idol performances being at the top of that list), it’s still a competently-written story about a protagonist who won’t let anything stop her from being The Very Best Like No One Ever Was, and I never get tired of that. The constant timeskips do get a little hard to keep track of, though.

Wotakoi: Love is Hard for Otaku (7/10)

This one could have been improved by just tweaking a few things. While the characters were endearing and the comedy on-point, the story needed a little interference just so that we didn’t end the final episode in pretty much the same place as the second, because I didn’t get any sense of progress in the main relationship. Still, totally worth a watch if you were disappointed by the news that Recovery of an MMO Junkie was directed by a Nazi.

Comic Girls (7/10)

A very cute story of four artists living together and sharing their passion for manga. This one grew on me a lot over its run, and while I had been pretty certain it would be a 6, a satisfying ending and unnecessarily pretty production elevated it, and I’m glad I wound up finishing it.

Sword Art Online Alternative: Gun Gale Online (8/10)

This one has the distinction of being the first review I got hate mail for, because I said that Sigsawa was a far better writer than Kawahara and that the female characters in Alternative actually had agency, and boy are those things true. As it turns out, without Kirito-sama, Sword Art Online can actually be decent, or even great. A solid buildup, well-defined characters (that don’t want to bang the main character!) and a spectacular climax lead up to the best story in the franchise. Can’t wait for Alicization to bring SAO crashing back down to mediocrity-at-best.

Tada-kun Never Falls in Love (8/10)

The only HIDIVE show I finished this season! And the best of three romantic comedies we got this spring, because it gave us the progression and satisfaction that Monthly Girls’ Nozaki-kun wasn’t able to. While it hit a few stumbling blocks, Tada-kun was brought up at least two full points by its fantastic ending, and that was a great surprise since I was really skeptical going into the final few episodes, as they are a big shift in tone and setting from the rest of the show, but the story pulled it off brilliantly.

Hinamatsuri (8/10)

The funniest show of the season, hands-down, Hinamatsuri is the strange tale of a girl with psychic powers from another dimension coming to live with her new yakuza dad, and the hilarity that ensues. Hina herself is a great character, as her dimwittedness is the basis for a lot of the comedy in this show, but the real heart is Anzu, and the coming-of-age journey she takes over the course of the story. This series shows a great and uncommon sympathy to the downtrodden members of Japanese society, and ultimately is able to bring every character’s arc to a meaningful and satisfying conclusion...except for one. Shame about that final episode.

Food Wars: The Third Plate (9/10)

I’m surprised at the lack of heat I’ve gotten about my opinion on Food Wars, and maybe it’s because I’ve been too subtle about my feelings, so I’ll spell them out clearly now: Food Wars is better than My Hero Academia, and you should be watching it.

Lostorage Conflated WIXOSS (9/10)

Man, was this a satisfying turnaround from the disappointment that was incited. The decision to bring the original cast back for a Massive Multiplayer Team-Up was a great one, and meant that almost every character, but especially Midoriko, got the conclusion they really needed. I’m hoping that this is the end for this franchise, if only so it can go out on its highest note. Oh, also, the soundtrack is still awesome.

Best of the Season:...

...

...

MEGALOBOX (10/10)

This shouldn’t surprise anyone, because MEGALOBOX was perfect from beginning to end and anybody who watched it is well aware of that fact. The sleeper hit of the season was everything the first episode promised; a gritty, 90′s-flavored story of one man’s journey to prove himself the best, and damn the consequences. MEGALOBOX is so great that it’s difficult to pick out individual elements of its awesomeness, but special mention should go to the music, because it is amazing. The OST of this one should go down in history along with that of Bebop as the best that anime has to offer.

[thunderbirdcarebear]

New Beginnings - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 can be found here

Chapter 2 - The Accident

It was about twenty past two when I finally woke up.

I was still tired but I felt a lot better. Until I remembered what Scott had told me.

I sat on the edge of my bed, thinking. Before I went to bed, I'd explained to Alan why I was close to Scott. He'd understood immediately, then hugged me.

I looked at my bedside table. That was where I'd put my photo frame, which I'd picked up in our hurried departure. It was the sort that could hold more than one picture. This one held eight. Scott, John, Virgil, Gordon, Mr. Tracy, father and two of Alan. One was a professional picture and in the other, he was in the pool. I would like to have had a picture of my mother in there, too. I don't know what happened to her and I don't have any pictures.

I picked up the photo frame and looked at the pictures closely, studying each one for a brief moment until my eyes came to rest on the one of Gordon. I sighed as I put the frame down, then crossed the room to where I'd dumped my bags.

Due to our late arrival, I'd only unpacked my nightdress, but after rummaging for about five minutes, I found my dressing gown. I put it on and headed down to the kitchen.

From behind the closed door, I could hear voices. I stood outside and listened for a while.

"They are going to be so surprised when they find out."

"Calm down, Virgil. We don't tell them anything yet. At least, not until Gordon's up and about again." Mr. Tracy's voice seemed to waver as he finished his sentence.

I pressed a button and as the door hissed open, all eyes in the kitchen were on me.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Or is it good afternoon yet?" John announced from the other side of the kitchen. "We were beginning to wonder if you were ever going to get up. Thought we'd have to send in the search parties!"

"John, don't tease her, she's had a long journey," Scott said. "One was cramped, she had bad company and a cabin full of luggage, the other was with Alan and me!" He and Alan started laughing like it was the funniest thing anyone had ever said, while the rest of us sane people looked at them with straightjackets in mind.

"Nice to see you, too, Scott." I said.

After lunch, the boys went for a swim while I sat up in the lounge, on the balcony, watching them duck and race each other. I looked behind me to where Mr. Tracy was tidying his desk as he spoke to me.

"Tin-Tin? Do you think you could shout down to them to keep the noise down, please? Gordon's still asleep." I knew Mr. Tracy was joking, but I could see it was hard for him to say.

"Is Gordon all right, Mr. Tracy? Scott told me last night what happened."

He sighed and sat on the edge of his desk. "He's all right. He just needs a lot of rest at the minute," he glanced at the picture of Gordon on the wall. "I'll tell you what. I'll go see if he's awake. If he is, you can go see him. I know how much you two like to talk about water and all, might help him feel better." The possibility of seeing Gordon made me feel happier. I watched as Mr. Tracy started to head towards the door, then double back. He went over to his desk and pressed a button, which set off a buzzer outside, by the pool. He spoke into a microphone at his desk and his words were reproduced through a speaker in the trellis of the patio.

"Can't you lot behave for five minutes? Keep the noise down please, boys," he said in a humorous tone. He smiled, then left.

I looked down as they started whispering and trying to swim quietly. It was very comical to watch, but it didn't last more than a few seconds.

When Mr. Tracy returned, I knew there was good news, it was written all over his face. "He's up, alright. He got up and answered the door! You go ahead and see him. I'm gonna go and tell the others. I just hope they don't get me too wet this time. Last time I went to talk to them with that many of them in the pool at once, I got soaked!"

I don't think I'd ever seen him so happy. I headed off toward Gordon's room, while Mr. Tracy left the villa and started down the steps to the patio.

I remembered where Gordon's room was from my last visit, as I'd spent about four hours in there, looking through his research books with him.

Being an oceanographer and an aquanaut meant that most of Gordon's research material was marine based. I loved looking through it to find dolphin pictures.

I reached his room and knocked the door. "Hang on a minute," I heard him call weakly, "I'm coming."

"Oh, you don't have to," I called through the door.

It opened and stood behind it was Gordon on crutches and with a bandage on his head, but with a huge grin across his face.

"Tin-Tin! I'm so happy to see you!" he cried, leaning forward to hug me.

"I'm happy to see you, too," I said, "but I'm going to need full use of my lungs."

"Oh, sorry," he said, releasing me, and gesturing me in. "I've had a hell of a time these last few months."

We went into his room and he eased himself down onto his bed and rested his crutches against the wall beside him. I sat down on the bedside chair, waiting to hear what he had to say.

"Five months ago, I was out in my speedboat. I was just sailing round, killing time. I guess I didn't turn in time because I hit the other craft at 400 knots. My vessel was completely smashed and I've been in a hospital bed recovering for four months. According to Scott, I was in a coma for most of that time. I got home a month ago, but the course of drugs I was on meant I still spent a lot of time sleeping. I've only just finished them. Dad would come in every morning and every evening bang on 9 o' clock to give me them. As soon as he had, he'd leave and I'd fall asleep again. There were a couple of times when he'd stay in my room when I fell asleep again. On those occasions, he was still sat in the chair asleep if I ever woke. He doesn't come in very often any more, not since the medication ran out."

We talked for a while longer about his time with the World Aquanaut Security Patrol, which he referred to as WASP, and the year he spent underwater investigating marine farming methods.

He also mentioned something about a thunder bird, but I'd never heard of one of those. I assumed it was some sort of bird that lived on the island. When I asked him about it, he looked a bit sheepish. "Dad hasn't told you yet? Oops. You'd better ask him."

About an hour later, Gordon surprised me completely.

"Do you want to go down to the pool? I expect the others are still there."

I did want to, but I didn't want to just leave him. "What about you?"

"I was thinking that when we get to the stairs, you take my crutches and I lean on your shoulder. One of my legs is still good, so it won't be too bad."

My mouth dropped open with surprise as I looked for the words I wanted. "Oh, you want to come with me. Are you up for that?"

"Yes, of course I am. Don't look so shocked. I've been practising on my crutches in here since I came off my medication last week, but the others rarely come in to see me. They think I still sleep twenty-four-seven."

"Well, okay, if you think you can," I said. I still wasn't sure, but we left anyway.

It took a while, but we made it down to the patio. The others were still floundering about like they lived in that pool, but they all stopped splashing about and jumped out one by one as they saw us coming and offered us assistance.

"Gordon!" John yelled.

"Are you all right?" Scott asked

"How are you feeling?" Alan shouted.

"It's nice to see you're looking better," Virgil said.

They spoke with genuine affection for their brother and all looked very happy to see him.

"Look, will you fellers stop fussing over me?" Gordon shouted above their comments and they eventually settled down.

He sat down on the edge of the pool and lay his crutches down beside him, then gently lowered his legs over the edge, letting his feet dangle in the cool water.

It was a strange sight. While one leg swung backwards and forwards, stirring up the water, the other hung nearly lifelessly.

Virgil went and sat next to him and started to talk and I suddenly realised I still hadn't gotten changed and it was nearly quarter to six in the evening.

I turned toward the villa, meaning to go and get changed, when I heard someone call my name. I spun round as John swam to the edge of the pool and called my name again. "Yes, John. What can I do for you?"

"Why don't you join us?"

How could I refuse? I've always loved swimming. "Do I have a choice?" I called.

"No, not really!" he answered, laughing.

I had to hide a grin as he waited for my response. He hadn't noticed what I had. Scott quietly swam up behind him and after taking a breath; he submerged. The next thing I knew, Scott had hold of John's ankles and was pulling him under.

The latter surfaced, spluttering, but Scott was already sat on the other edge of the pool, enjoying a cool drink.

I laughed, then headed up the long flight of steps, colliding with Mr. Tracy just inside the lounge. He groaned and stepped back a little. "I'm sorry, Mr. Tracy," I said, smiling.

"Oh, don't worry, just watch where you're going," he replied, smiling back as he rubbed his chest. "How's Gordon?"

"You can ask him personally if you want. He's down by the pool with the others."

A look of shock crossed his face, then happiness. He looked down at the pool to see Gordon still cheerfully talking to Virgil. We also saw Alan swim underwater towards him, but when he surfaced, Gordon kicked water over him with his good leg. He looked up, saw us looking and waved.

I waved back, smiled at Mr. Tracy, then headed off to my room to get changed.

About a week later, at about half one in the morning, I was woken by a loud noise. Usually, I can sleep through anything, once I'm asleep, but this was so loud, so close. It sounded like a rocket was taking off from somewhere on the island. I didn't know what it was, but it scared me, yet ten minutes later, the noise was gone as quickly as it had started.