#ive been So exhausted from being sick the past few days though. very annoying to have that happen while traveling

[mamawasatesttube]

anyways someone remind me tomorrow evening to actually make that post about the mermay fic im probably not gonna write!!! i will be back at home by then and hopefully less sick and miserable and pathetic so i can actually type it up fhjdgk

[neo-contemporaryfailure]

In 1963, 18 year old Jack Ainsworth, living and working with choreographer Mary Corey, copes with being fired from Mary's big comeback musical after the intense choreography lands him in the hospital during Boston try-outs.

TW: Suicide

Jack had been fascinated by mirrors as long as he could remember. When he was 3 years old in the living room, his parents would dance to the radio. Sitting on the floor, he'd try to follow their reflections in the mirror on the mantle. He hoped that one day, the mirror would reveal its weakness and mess up, show something that didn't happen, or be a few seconds behind, but it never was. Jack thought it was magical.

Mary didn't like mirrors, or rather she thought they had their time and place in life. She had removed the mirror from the bathroom, and replaced it with a handful of standing mirrors throughout the house. They were covered in sheets, and when she needed to use them, she'd dramatically toss the sheet off. 

The guest room, which Jack occasionally made his own, had one of those closets with mirrors on the door. When they'd slide they'd make a horrible, vicious screeching noise, so Jack usually just kept it open when he was around. 

The most annoying part of those doors was the fact that when he laid in the bed, he'd see himself in them across the room. Jack liked looking at himself, but not at night.

When Mary fired him, she told him to go back to New York and, pressing her key into his hand, instructed him to recover at her home, not with whatever dancer he could convince to let him crash. He appreciated it, but those doors. 

Putting down his bag, Jack looked around the room. It'd been a few months since he'd been around Mary’s. Robert couldn't stand him, they'd argue, Jack would be thrown out. Mary would always say that he could always come here, but Jack wasn't stupid, and he liked the adventure of finding somewhere new every week. It really showed him who his friends were. Despite that, this room still held elements of Jack's past life. 

Mary called it Jack's closet, because anything he couldn't bring around with him lived in here. There was a bag that Jack had brought with him when he was a child, with old shoes and some clothing, books from the Minneapolis Central Library that were well overdue, and letters from his mother. There were a few notebooks, full of sketches and notes from Jack's time working on Mary’s shows. There was a bit of clothing, nicer things that Jack didn't really wear, most of it he had actually kinda outgrown, but it wasn't like he planned to wear them again. 

In the mirror, Jack caught his own eye. He looked sick. He looked gray. His eyes were sunken in, his hair was weighed down, sinking past his shoulders, tangled in the back. But he looked thin, for the most part, the steroids had added some weight to him, and strong enough, he still looked like a dancer. Maybe. If he squinted. It had only been a week at Boston General, he didn't understand how he had deteriorated so rapidly. He'd been in perfect physical condition.

The doctors had been rude, the nurses worse. Jack didn't know his American history very well, but he was pretty sure there was nothing in the US constitution that meant he had to live. He'd tried to explain this, and they only got more fixated on keeping him alive. His arms were still all bruised up from the IV needles. 

They'd sent him home and told him to follow up with a specialist in the city, but Jack didn't plan to do that. He had a better idea

Jack, during the show, hadn't been sleeping. He'd take 3 tablets of dexedrine, a gift from Mary,  at intermission every day, and that would keep him up all night. He'd feel locked in, his body heavy, exhausted, every muscle tense and painful, staring at the ceiling, feeling his chest rise, until morning came and he was right back up. He must've slept at least a little bit, but he certainly didn't remember it.

Dancers stuck together though, and eventually through trading some of the Dexies, he got his hands on a bottle of Librium. That let him sleep! It was excellent.

And he still had it. Most of it, at least.

And today, looking at himself in the mirror, he was going to take them all. 

It was really a double whammy – all of them alone would probably put him in a coma, and just in case, with the state of his lungs, he wouldn't be able to breathe. It was almost certain. Mary and Bert wouldn't be around for another week, there was no chance he'd be found until it was too late. It was perfect. It was infallible. 

He took 5 of the 10 pills and unbuttoned his shirt. He had one more thing to do. He went to the kitchen and dialed on the phone. He wanted to tell his parents that he'd been fired. They'd learn eventually, but he wanted to be the one to tell them.

Bert hated when he made long distance calls, but Mary always said it was okay, as long as it was his parents. 

An unfamiliar voice answered the phone,  maybe the stupid operator had connected him to the wrong household.

“Hi.” It was someone young, a little girl maybe, “Let me get Dad.”

It clicked. Jack knew who it was. 

“No.” He said, “It's okay. I can talk to you.”

“I'm not supposed to talk on the phone.” The little girl rambled, “I'll get Daddy, he's in the yard.”

“No.” Jack said, “Can I just tell you? I'm your brother, it's okay.”

The little girl went quiet for a while then groaned, “Okay. But I'm not getting in trouble for it.”

Jack held back a laugh, “I’m just calling to say I got fired. And I'm quitting forever. So you can expect some real big news!”

The little girl didn't say anything. 

“Hello?” Jack said.

Silence.

Jack hung the phone up.

By then the wooziness of the Librium had hit in and he stumbled into the room again. It was over.

But it wasn't.

Sun dripped in from the inch at the bottom over the blinds, spreading out over the room. Jack found himself, head pounding, on the floor. His chest heavy, when Jack first realized he was still alive he considered just laying there to see if that heaviness would eventually overtake him. But it didn't, and eventually Jack succumbed to the discomfort of the floor and climbed into bed.  He caught himself in the mirror door, looking worse than before.

That was it. That was the worst part about it. He had tried to do the one thing he was supposed to do, the one thing he had spent the past five years training and planning and learning for, and he had failed. Jack had given up so much for it: his family, his schooling, friends, his time, his name. But in an instant, it was all gone. Mary had invested blood, sweat, and tears, into him and he'd fucked it all up. Jack had fucked up the one thing he was supposed to do.  It wasn't a surprise that he wasn't allowed to die, then that the world was going to keep him here to live out his humiliation, really making him look like a failure in their eyes. Or maybe he was such a fuck up he couldn't even properly kill himself. Jack wasn't very smart, he wasn't good looking, no one really liked him, and he couldn't even dance. He couldn't even dance! He wondered if Mary had been lying to him all these years, if everyone had been lying to him all these years, or if Jack had tricked them all into thinking he was capable of it, or really capable of anything. All these people had loved him and he let them down. Twice.

Jack could've tried again. Lying there he could think of about 20 other ways he could do it. There were lots more pills in the cabinet, Jack might not know what all they do but if he took lots of them… Jack knew where Mary kept her stash, too. The windows in the front room were big enough to climb out of.  There were razors in the bathroom and knives in the kitchen. That is what Jack really wanted. That was the perfect way to go out. Too perfect. It made his stomach twist.

Jack stayed in bed the rest of the day, only climbing out early the next morning. He enjoyed the silence for once, avoiding opening the windows or even the blinds, letting in as little sound or light as possible. It was like a cave. He looked through their liquor cabinet. Neither Bert nor Mary were much drinkers.  Neither was Jack. He'd tried beer when he was a kid and anything else that his dancer friends would give him, but he had been 18 for almost 2 months now and he'd yet to have a real drink. 

Everything in the cabinet was old, dusty, and most of it was gone. He decided on the one unopened bottle, creme de menthe. Sitting down at the table, he cracked it open and took a swig. He winced at the taste. Why did Mary keep this around?

Regardless, he muscled through it. He got a quarter of the way through the bottle before the nausea took him over and he laid his head down on the table. 

“Jack?” 

Jack looked up. The Corey’s maid, Shirley, was standing at the entrance of the room. She'd opened the blinds. She looked pathetic, standing in that stupid white dress with her hands crossed over her heavy frame. Why was she here?

“Why are you here?” Jack hissed, trying to sound confident despite the pounding headache, nausea, and overwhelming scent of mint.

“Mrs. Corey asked me to come in every other day to get the mail.” She said, “I am surprised to see you.” 

She passed Jack, grabbing the bottle from next to him and putting it back in the cabinet.  She went into the kitchen.

“Why are you all the way in here?” Jack said, “Shouldn't you just drop off the mail —?”

She returned a few moments later, looking serious, “I thought someone was here and investigated. But it's just you.” She crossed back to the entrance, “I’d recommend vodka if you want to drink at 9 in the morning. Vodka vomit is a lot easier to clean up off the carpets.”

Jack stood up, “I can do whatever I want.” He said. Which was true. Which was amazing. Managing to stay upright, he spun around and pulled the creme de menthe bottle out of the cabinet, then flung it at Shirley with all his strength. It shattered on the wall only inches from her head. She screamed and stumbled back.

Jack felt something, maybe just a pang of nausea or maybe guilt, as he watched the green liquid soak into her white dress and drip down the walls, gathering at the white baseboard. He pushed past her and went back down the hall. He entered his room and stood at the mirror door, then sat right in front of it, watching himself.

Hours later, as it was getting dark, he left, standing silently in the dark hallway, hoping for a sign that she was gone. She was. The house was dark. He stuck his head in the dining room. The walls and floors were not stained green, in fact, other than the broken bottle being sat on a tray on the table, there was no remnant left of what had happened at all.

There was a note by the broken bottle, “Jack, think about what you've done. – Shirley"

Jack crumbled it up and pressed it into his pocket, then grabbed the tray. He carried it into the kitchen and dumbed the glass into the trash can, then tossed the tray into the sink. It landed with a loud clatter. It made his skin crawl and his ears ring. He lowered himself to the floor. He hated the kitchen. He hated the kitchen and he hated himself and he hated the kitchen. He hated everything it stood for. He wanted it all to end.  But he didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve a chance for it to end. He deserved to suffer through it for the rest of his worthless life. 

He forced himself up, and went back into the other room to sleep.

Thus became his new routine for the next 4 days. Wake up, drink until he felt too sick to, puke it up, and sleep, and do it all over again. He did nothing else. He did not shower or change or open the windows to get fresh air. He ignored the phone when it rang. He ignored the doorbell. He ignored Shirley. He definitely did not eat. This was what he was allowed to do and it was what he deserved to do. This was Jack's right and obligation.

On the 5th day Jack heard Mary and Robert come home. He stayed in bed. He waited for them to come to him. 6 hours turned to 12 and finally at around 10:30pm, Robert knocked on his door.

“Jackson.” He said.

Jack half sat up, pretending to not have been listening to everything and anything the entire day. Bert entered.

“Don't touch our liquor.” He hissed, “Unless you intend to pay for it.”

Bert turned and left, closing the door behind him. 

[hermannsthumb]

So I know you don't really write PRU things but how about PRU averting? Like when Newt starts to realize something is wrong he goes to Hermann for help?

this isn’t exactly what you wanted (at all) but the concept for this fic has been making me laugh all week. sometimes a bitch just wants to write a slightly unhinged jealous ex hermann unknowingly seducing aliens out of newt

safe for work except for some makeouts and implied past banging, but hermann tries very hard for it to not be. also ive definitely written similar plots before but who cares

—————

They send a ranger-in-training to break the news to Hermann. He’s not sure what they expected him to do, really, or how a teenager in oversized khakis might have prevented it in the first place. Rage? Cry? Break things? His relationship with Newton Geiszler has been highly publicized at this point, he supposes, down to every last gory detail; their scientific rivalry, their heated laboratory debates, their–er–rather dramatic love affair, which ended on a deeply sour note when Newton packed his bags and left Hermann for better funding and a swanky flat with more windows than walls seven years ago. As far as gossip is concerned, that is.

“Tomorrow?” Hermann says.

The ranger nods and says nothing. She’s awfully young–too young, Hermann thinks. And awfully afraid of him. Right, of course: he’s crotchety, daft old Dr. Gottlieb, notorious for his short temper and avoidance of socialization at all costs. He furrows his brow an appropriate amount and nods, as if to appear deeply consternated, or perhaps lost in brooding abstraction. “I see,” he says. “Hm. That wretched Dr. Geiszler, here, after so many years. The nerve of him. Thank you.”

The girl doesn’t move.

“Ah,” Hermann says. “Dismissed, I mean.”

Between the bare bones staff and Hermann’s incredibly low rank back in Hong Kong, he still hasn’t quite gotten used to the notion that he has things like interns and underlings again, let alone people who–when sent to deliver him a message, or paperwork, or lab equipment he submitted forms for–need to be explicitly dismissed to leave his presence. Newton would love it. Or, at the very least, he’d love teasing Hermann for it. (Control freak, that was what he’d call Hermann.) 

Back in the safety and solitude of his private laboratory, Hermann brews a fresh pot of tea and mulls the news over. It’ll hardly be the first time Newton’s set foot at the Moyulan Shatterdome. It’ll hardly be the first time Hermann will have seen Newton since the Events of seven years ago, either. It will, however, be the first occasion on which the two collide: Newton always seems to schedule his routine Moyulan visits when Hermann is tucked safely away in some conference or council in some other bloody country, leaving their paths to cross at the most inane social events, banquets and fundraisers and black tie occasions that leave Hermann stifling under his collar and his leg aching from the strain of standing for so long. 

Their words to each other in such situations have always been terse, brief, polite. Newton, after all, is a very important (and very rich) man these days, and he has plenty of elbows to bump and high society buggers to flatter without Hermann getting in his way. It’s pleasantries, is all. Lovely to see you, Dr. Geiszler. How’s work, Dr. Geiszler? The champagne is excellent, isn’t it, Dr. Geiszler? By Jove, it’s maddening. Just once Hermann would like to shout and snap at him like the good old days, to grab hold of that stupid bloody tie and shove him against a wall and kiss him, or bite him, or do anything that isn’t smile and pretend to care when he mentions that–that Alice floozy he’s shacking up with. And now, with Newton finally giving Hermann a window to meet in his own territory…

Hermann keeps a small volume of Newton’s early research on his desk–compiled long before he even knew the man–and he takes it out now, slipping a well-worn polaroid out from between its pages and propping it against his tea mug. Newton smiles out at him. “Horrible little man,” Hermann says, lovingly, and gently brushes his index finger against that handsome face.

He feigns a stomach bug to clock out of work early–fooling no one, of course, but his staff chalks it up sympathetically to the prospect of seeing his notorious ex tomorrow and says nothing–and makes a mad dash into town for a haircut and manicure. After some consideration, he pops into a clothing store for a new button-down, too. A nice one. One that fits him well. (You have a hot bod, dude, Newton would always say, you should be flaunting it. 

No, no raging, or crying, or breaking things. It’s been seven years since Newton walked out on Hermann for a cushy job and designer suits, and Hermann has exactly one course of action in mind: winning him back.

——

Newton is not exactly as Hermann remembered. The changes in him are noticeable, and–for the most part, barring the loss of his glasses and personal sense of style–Hermann feels entirely neutral about them: hair more neatly tamed, stubble more neatly shaved, body ever-so-slightly more toned. Hermann seems to recall Newton saying something about CrossFit or some sort of damned exercise bike he bought at the last banquet they attended–lost ten pounds this past month! New Year’s Resolution, you know, ha, gotta stay in shape for Alice (and this was the point at which Hermann clenched his champagne flute so tightly it burst, and he excused himself to find a napkin with which to tend to his bleeding and a tall glass of whiskey from the open bar with which to tend to his agonies). Whatever it is, it seems to be working.

He manages to lure Newton out from under the thumb of his boss with vague claims of research, though Newton is not happy about it. “I got shit to do, man,” he complains. His eyes are inscrutable behind his expensive sunglasses. “It’s just not a good time. Busy, busy, busy, you know.”

They’ll have the laboratory to themselves, even more so than usual. I’ll need to have a few private words with Dr. Geiszler, Hermann had ominously announced to his staff that morning, and they’d all looked at each other in excitement. An infamous Geiszler-Gottlieb row! Hermann locks the door behind them.

“You poor dear,” Hermann says. “Running yourself ragged. You must be exhausted.”

Newton shrugs. “I am a little. I guess.” He shrugs again, and this time preens a little with it. Good: Hermann wants him nice and flattered. “It’s hard work being as important as I am, you know.”

“I imagine,” Hermann coos sympathetically. He brushes his hand across Newton’s shoulders, then nudges him at the small of his back towards his desk. “Please, Newt, I insist you have a seat. Would you like some coffee?”

“I mean, if you’re offering,” Newton says, waving him off.

The instant coffee is located on the middle shelf of Hermann’s bookcase, between a dusty variety box of Twinings and an elaborate kaiju action figure Newton left in their apartment when he walked out. Hermann spoons some into a chipped blue mug and watches Newton through the man’s reflection on the kettle. He leans back in Hermann’s desk chair; he rolls his shoulders; he pops open a button on his maroon suit coat; he spies something propped up on Hermann’s desk, and picks it up. The polaroid. Hermann ducks his head to hide his smile.

“Good times, huh, dude?” Newton says. He waves it in the air.

“Mm,” Hermann says. 

He hands the mug of coffee over to Newton, who’s yet to put down the polaroid. Milk and plenty of sugar. Exactly the way Newton always used to take it. “There we are, dear,” he says. “Are you hungry? Might I get you anything to eat? I’ve plenty of biscuits, and, er...” He casts a guilty glance around the mess of his workspace. “...Oranges.”

“No thanks,” Newton says, but it’s vague, unconvincing. His eyes are locked on the photograph. “Good times,” he repeats. 

“Nothing to eat at all?” Hermann says.

Newton shakes himself. “Nah,” he says, and pats his stomach. “On a diet. You know, for Alice.”

Ah, of course; Alice. The mystery woman Hermann despises the very existence of. For years after Newton first broke the news to Hermann he was seeing someone new, Hermann used to pour over magazine articles and gossip sites for even a glimpse of what she might look like (and for the chance to do something cathartic, like crop her angrily from a photograph with Newton or scribble over her face with a Sharpie). Probably horrendously ugly; possibly blonde; undoubtedly lacking taste, and humor, and any other sorts of qualities a mate worthy of Newton ought to possess. At the very least, Hermann knows she isn’t at all supportive of Newton in the way she should be. Every banquet and fundraiser, she’s too busy to come, every dinner invitation Hermann finally accepts so he may properly hate the woman, she must cancel at the very last minute due to some strange illness or another. 

Privately, Hermann thinks she feels threatened by him. As she should be. He and Newton have been in each other’s heads, after all, wrote letters in their youth, shared a laboratory for years, shared a bed for longer than that. It’s a simple fact one will ever know Newton like Hermann knows him.

“Of course,” Hermann says, with icy kindness. “For Alice. How is she these days? I was ever so put out when she caught–what was it–influenza, yes, that night we were meant to dine together. And the time before that, with pneumonia. And laryngitis before that. Terrific bloody coincidences, aren’t they.”

(Sorry, dude, Newton said over the phone, not sounding very sorry, but rather quite distracted. She was probably in the room, egging on his lies. She's sick. Can’t see you after all. Rain check?)

“Yeah,” Newton says. He’s started to shake his leg up and down, a nervous tic Hermann is all too aware of, seeing as he’s picked it up himself after their drift. Along with an annoying tendency to hoard sentimental rubbish. “Coincidences. If I’m being honest, Hermann–I’m not too keen on you two–well.” A strange look crosses his face, replaced in a blink of an eye with a toothy smile. “Old flame and the new flame, it’d be awkward for everyone, y’know?”

“Especially for her, I’d imagine,” Hermann says, and then he swings himself down into Newton’s lap.

Newton goes very still; the photograph slips from his fingers and flutters to the floor. “Hermann?” he squeaks.

Dropping his cane, Hermann nuzzles his face into the crook of Newton’s neck and breathes deeply; the Newton of his memories smells of burnt coffee and the sharp tang of preservation chemicals, but the Newton of now smells more of expensive cologne than anything else. Hermann can’t say he likes it much, but he presses a small kiss there anyway, marveling at the lack of the scratchy stubble he remembers so well. “What–what are you doing?” Newton says.

Another kiss. Hermann slips a hand up to caress Newton’s jaw, and Newton shivers. “I should think it’s obvious,” Hermann says. “Mm. Come on, now, love, I know I can’t be the only one of us who’s been aching for this.”

“It’s,” Newton stammers, “I,” and his sturdy fingers grip Hermann’s waist, though he makes no move to shove him away. In fact, he only draws him closer. Marvelous. “I’ve got–someone, dude,” he says, gazing at Hermann between heavy eyelids. “Alice. I have–”

Hermann kisses him, pouring into it every ounce of longing he’s felt for the last seven years, and Newton melts against him with a moan. “But does she make you feel the way I do?” Hermann murmurs. 

“Uh,” Newton says.

He swipes his tongue into Newton’s mouth, enjoying the sharp jolt that shoots through Newton when he brushes against his own tongue, and pulls back with a small bite at his bottom lip. Newton always liked when Hermann kissed him messily. “Do feel free to touch me,” he says.

Newton does: one hand leaves Hermann’s waist and inches up his side instead, pausing to shove one half of his lab coat off, then the other. The coat slips to the floor as well. Newton splays five fingers over Hermann’s right pectoral. “Nice shirt,” he says, sounding rather dazed. “Good color on you.”

“I’d hoped you like it,” Hermann says happily. “Remember what you always used to say, about flaunting it? I thought it was time I’d take your advice.”

“I do,” Newton says. “I do remember. Ha.” His face splits into a grin, one of the first truly Newton-esque ones Hermann’s seen on him in years, and Hermann feels a small flare of triumph. He catches the hand at his chest and draws it to his mouth, brushing a kiss over the knuckles. Newton’s tattoos, vibrant as ever, poke out from beneath one maroon sleeve.

Hermann remembers kissing those tattoos. He remembers tracing the shape of red-yellow waves with his fingertips, of pinching the eyes of the great kaiju splashed across his chest, of teasing Newton for his rather unadorned arse and how pale it was in comparison to the rest of him. You’re one to talk, buddy, Newton would say, and he’d deliver a playful smack to Hermann’s, all skin and bones, dude, I think I bruised my hand. He used to like to keep his glasses on in bed so he could see Hermann. Make sure it’s actually happening, he’d say. His sunglasses are folded uselessly on Hermann’s desk. “I could make you so loud,” Hermann says. “We’d get noise complaints. Remember?”

Newton nods, eyes fixed on the knuckles Hermann kissed.

“I knew exactly where to touch you,” Hermann says, dropping his voice, “and how to touch you. I still do, Newton.” Newton dissolves into whimpers when his neck is kissed, a certain spot by his left thigh pressed on with a thumb; when being made love to, he likes his sides stroked, fingers pressed against his tongue; when doing the love making, he likes his hair pulled, nails raked across his back.

“Please,” Newton says, his voice cracking. “Can you–?”

Hermann shoves that ugly maroon jacket to the floor, then winds that ugly tie around his fingers and gives Newton a sharp tug. Newton moans, twice as loud as before. “Yes, darling, of course.”

They kiss, Hermann making quick work of the buttons of Newton’s shirt, Newton seemingly too shy to do anything beyond grip Hermann’s shoulders. A pink blush is spreading from the tips of his cheeks down to his neck. It’s very sweet. “Hermann,” he says.

“Mm?”

Newton wets his lips. “You like when I do this,” he says, and gives Hermann’s ear a little tug.

(They’re so big, Newton would say, it’s adorable, you’re adorable, and Hermann would swat him away, but then Newton would kiss the shell of his ear, bite his earlobe, and Hermann would gasp, and sensitive! Newton would say, adorable, absolutely adorable.)

“They’re sensitive,” Newton says. “You like when I kiss them.” He grins again, though it slips away after a moment. “I think they’ll be looking for me soon.”

“You are so terribly important, after all,” Hermann says. “It’s a very good thing I’ve locked the door. I haven’t finished having my wicked way with you yet.”

This time, Newton laughs, though it’s an uncertain little thing. “Listen,” he says, strangely urgent, and he squeezes Hermann’s arm. “Don’t let me leave, okay?” Then he shakes his head. “Actually, no. Take me home with you. Away from–from work. And Alice. Yeah. Let’s go now.”

This is unexpected, though Hermann cannot deny it’s not exactly what he hoped would happen when his foolproof plan of seduction worked. He’s suddenly very pleased he made a few more stops after picking up his new shirt: first for a very expensive bottle of wine and the makings of a dinner the Newton of ten years ago loved, the next a rather discreet one for the sort of supplies they’d need to, er, take this one step further. “Oh, yes,” Hermann says. “Oh, darling, absolutely. Er–now now?”

“Now,” Newton says. He plants a series of discoordinated, rapid-fire kisses across Hermann’s mouth and chin. “Now,” he repeats. “Keep talking to me.”

“About what?” Hermann says, frowning.

“Anything,” Newton says. “And touch me. Keep touching me. Hermann–when we get there, I have to tell you–”

“Alright, Newton, alright,” Hermann says. He did forget how needy Newton could get. He’s also missed it. He strokes back some of Newton’s neat hair, gropes around for his cane, and eases himself to his feet with a small groan. (He’s not quite as young or agile as he used to be.) Newton immediately springs to his own feet and latches onto Hermann’s arm. He's not merely needy tonight--a bit on edge, too, it seems. “Off we are, then. Be a dear and get my coat for me.”

[angeliclunaetic]

just thinking back to the day i met him, till now and,, there was always something about him. something that drew me in and everything just felt right. That day we met,, something about him just drew me in. idk if it was his sense of humor or just how polite n sweet and caring he was in general but it was,, something. idek why i even texted him in the first place. i just commented on his stuff and decided to text him. we talked for a few and then he showed me a pic of himself and i was just,, in awe. he really was the cutest thing ever. yes i had thought abt using him when i first saw him but,, i couldnt even if i had wanted to. i seen his pic and thought “yeah he looks like he’d be easy to use” but then by the end of texting him that night,, i fell so deeply for him. actually no. i already fell for him. way before we even met. that must be how everything felt so right. but just texting him a little bit that first night,, i just instantly wanted to know more about him. i never even talked abt someone else to my gc and for some reason i had the urge to talk about him,, like i knew he was the one but didn’t realize it. and then when we called for the first time,, i swear i had butterflies. even though i was otp with him and his friend,, i was so nervous to just talk to him. i had thought of him as my crush at that point. no one had ever made me feel that way. i never got so nervous to talk to anyone. i wanted to stay quiet that entire time so i wouldnt say something stupid and embarrass myself but something about him,, made me want to be so open. so i talked to him,, and when we got off the phone of our first call,, i was so incredibly sad. i wanted to talk to him more and more and i just wanted to call him again already,, but i wasnt sure how he had felt or if he even felt the same. i thought he did but i didnt wanna assume and make a fool out of myself. i wasnt sure if he had a crush or if he was just being nice. but after a while it was easy to realize. he was way too sweet and caring to me. more than a friend should be. he was there for me the night i was bawling otp w my ex. and he got mad and upset about how my ex was treating me in a way that was different than just my friends. and thats what made me fall for him even more. just him. being himself. him being so sweet. so caring. him just being there for me and not judging me and wanting others to treat me right. and when we videocalled that first time,,i was so nervous. i was worried he’d see what i look like and not be attracted to me anymore. but he still was. but i was so nervous anyways. but when i saw him on video call for the first time,, i was in shock. how could someone be so cute. so perfect. how could someone capture my heart just by simply smiling at me. i knew from then, that i, was in love with him. i wanted to be his so badly. but when he had asked me out i wanted to just scream yes at him,, but something in my mind told me to just calm down and wait,, however a part of me was worried that if i had made him wait that he’d find someone better and leave me. but he didn’t he stayed. even after that night i had told him everything. of how i used to use people and how i had originally planned to use him and he still stayed. i swear i felt my heart break that night and i was crying so much out of fear that he’d leave me before we even got together. i had such strong feelings for him and i wanted him to be mine. but i wanted to make sure i was away from,, that thing,, and that i fully loved him before i got into anything serious. i didnt wanna jump from relationship to relationship either. a part of me just wanted to be single and just have fun. but just,, talking to him and texting him,, i wanted him. i didnt care if i wasnt single. i just wanted him. but also a part of me didnt want to love again. or “love” as i should say considering i never loved anyone before him. i was mentally and emotionally exhausted and relationships are just so much work and you have to give someone such a large piece of yourself and i wouldnt be able to handle being broken again. so many thoughts ran through my head. “what if i dont love him, what if im just attracted to him because im going through things and he’s there for me” “what if he wont wait for me” “what if he doesnt like me “ “what if im using him and dont realize” “what if i get hurt” all these “what if’s” and i never once thought abt the reality of it all. that i, had feelings for him. that he felt the same. that he was willing to wait for me, even if it took years. that he would never hurt me and even allowed himself to be hurt by me if that meant even just getting a chance at me loving him. i guess i was just so worried and just in shock. no ones felt so deeply for me before.and that night that i had asked him out,,, i had seen a pic of my ex with this new girl and i felt absolutely nothing towards it. so then,, thats when i knew. i was over him. that emotional attachment was gone. and my feelings for sam were real. and we had called that night,, that entire night i was so nervous and got butterflies, and i realized i never stopped smiling once during that whole phone call. and after we got of,, i, once again, was extremely sad. i wanted to hear his voice talking to me for hours and hours. i wanted to smile and feel nervous and get butterflies. and at that point i was like,, fuck it. yes i was still worried that my feelings werent true. but what was the harm in trying. he was the only person to have caught my eye in like,, ever. he was on my mind that whole night and probably abt like 30 mins after we got off call i asked him out. my feelings for him were too strong. i was worried he wouldnt wait and i couldnt risk losing someone as special as him to someone else,, if i did, i wouldve never forgiven myself. im glad i asked him out. even though i had surprised myself by it,, i just couldnt wait any longer,, i needed to make him mine. and i did. and i wouldnt change it for the world. the first month for me was very,, rough. of course we were still getting to know each other and our boundaries,, and i of course made some mistakes. my fears of possibly not having true feelings were coming back. and it pushed him away because he didnt wanna get hurt. and he almost left me. those two nights that we had an issue and he had left me,, they broke me. they really did. that  was the worst i had ever been. the crying,, the screaming,, the anger and complete sadness i felt. i felt as if i had lost everything. i felt as if i had nothing left. if i didnt have him,, then,, who am i. im nothing without him. he’s my other half. my soulmate. and i thought i had lost him. im glad im so annoying and clingy otherwise i’d be so fucking heartbroken without him. we had only been together for less than a month those two times and yet i felt so strongly for him. nothing has ever made me feel this way. i had never wanted to keep someone in my life so bad before. it was like,, i needed him to breathe. i needed him to smile. i just,, needed him. i cant live without him. just thinking about a life without him makes me fucking sick. i want him and only him for the rest of our lives. no one can even compare to him. im just,, in shock. like im really in love with him and it just amazes me. im sitting here writing this as he’s sound asleep and i just. i miss him a lot. i guess all my feelings are coming out now since ive been distant the past month but,, i dont care. ill gladly shout from the rooftops how much i love him. god there’s so much more i could say about us. even before we started dating. i cant get over the rush i felt. the excitement, the nerves, the butterflies,, even all the “what if’s”,, i still get nervous and get butterflies when talking to him but ofc they’re not gonna be as strong as when we had met and declared our love for each other. speaking of love,, now im reminded of the day i had told him that i love him,, we had “argued” the day before and i thought i had lost him for good,, and that next day,,i wanted nothing more than to just hold him and kiss him and tell him that i love him. i know the words “i love you” is such a meaningful thing,, i couldnt help but tell him. its exactly how i felt. i loved him. i couldnt be apart from him,, even after only a week of dating him,, i was in love that night i thought he was leaving me for good,, absolutely broke me. and the next day i just wanted to hold him tight and never let him go. even though i was so nervous to tell him that i loved him,, i just,, i knew i was sure. no one had ever made me feel so strongly about them. yeah ive cried over my ex. but nothing could ever compare to just the complete distraught i felt that night. that crying so much it burned my throat and threw up,, the screaming,, just the complete sadness and anger i felt. after that,, i knew i loved him, and i wasnt afraid to tell him. i was nervous bc of how he’d react but i knew that i was never more sure of anything else in my life. i love him. and i want to be with him forever. 

[chxrlotte-linlin]

Retrospective(Verse: Future)

LinLin’s life had changed drastically after she woke up from her year-long food coma. She came back to consciousness only a few weeks ago, slowly returning to her full glory. The Yonko was still very thin, but thanks to sugar IV lines and high calory sweets she was on a good way to get back to her old shape.

Munching on some tarts, she looked out of her bedroom window and sighed. The Chateau was newly built and recently had finished. It was very similar to the old one, yet a little smaller in size. LinLin leaned back and closed her eyes exhausted. This morning she felt a little dizzy but hoped it would go away soon. A servant came in to see after her. As he was sure she was okay, a doctor came in to check her IV lines. The change was quick and LinLin was left alone again.  While she was in her coma, she dreamt a lot of stuff from her past which made her left thinking. From the earliest memories, she somehow was able to remember to most recent ones with the Strawhats and the disastrous Tea Party a few years ago.

A frustrated sigh escaped her mouth and she got up slowly, stretching herself, being sick of staying in bed all the time. Walking over the window, LinLin tilted her head slightly as a headache started to form in her head.

“Blasted, this pain is just returning at the most inconvenient times...” she muttered, glaring outside the rainy Island. It was raining for a few days by now which made the whole situation not really better. A knock on her door makes her turn around a little too fast, her head was spinning again. With a low growl, she called whoever was outside.

It was Compote who wanted to look after her mother. On her face was a gentle smile and she came in with grace.

“Mama, good to see you awake. I was afraid you were too exhausted after yesterdays exercise to even get up! Sorry. Here, I brought you fresh baskets of fruits. Your favorites on top of that!” Compote exclaimed friendly, putting down the baskets on a table. Her look went back to her mother and she frowned.

“Are you alright Mama?” she asked worried, getting over to her. LinLin brushed it off quickly, shrugging in response. “I just feel a little tipsy, that’s all. Nothing too bad.” she took a grapefruit from the basket and bite out a bit, munching it away in no time. It was really delicious.

“How is Forge doing. I heard he has returned from a mission not long ago?” LinLin asked her daughter who nodded in agreement.

“Indeed so, Forge returned a few days ago and is currently resting in the Seducing Woods” Compote exclaimed, opening one of the windows of the room to let in fresh air. “Oven has accompanied him as well but he is still away as he had a little detour to make. But he will be back soon as well.” LinLin raised a brow interested, so Oven really did his own thing for once? Seems that has changed as well over the last years she thought to herself. A moaning escaped her mouth as the pain in her head started anew.

“Compote, be a doll and give me one of these painkillers on my nightstand...My head is killing me.” she groaned, sitting down on the bed frustrated. Her daughter brought over the pills which were taken in no time.

“Tell Forge I want to talk with him later today. It’s been a long time since we had a talk...a real one...” LinLin muttered exhausted. Compote nodded but wondered what her mother meant with that. She went out of the room quickly as it was time for her to look after Streusen who was in a room just aside of her mother’s. The old man withered down an awful lot, making him literally helpless. This was not only grating on Compote’s mind, the other siblings as well and even LinLin were aware of that fact. For the latter one was it a blessing in disguise in a way. The once so jealous old man turned into a whiney, little brat in an old man's body, not knowing how to do anything alone anymore. It was irony in a way, for now, he was the one dependent on others, not the other way around. 

She remembered the day she had found out she was pregnant with the Triplets and told it to Forge, back then they were still married and a happy young couple. LinLin closed her eyes and thought back on the wonderful memories, blending out the reason why she cried later on that day. It was long overdue to talk about him and her feelings for him which stayed pretty much the same over all these years. She wanted to feel his touch again, his rough skin against her own, laying down with him to simply do nothing at all.  Hell, her kids seemingly done a good enough job to run this Island without her, so maybe...but that was a thought for another day.All the other husbands she couldn’t care less about, only Forge stayed in her memory and if it wouldn’t have been for Streusen, they probably would have stayed together. She felt how tears started to form in her eyes. Rubbing her face vigorously, LinLin tried to stop the flow which worked, barely.

“I wonder if he still feels the same way about me...” she muttered to herself, putting a strand of hair behind her ear. LinLin’s reflection was showing a woman that looked worn out, black bags were under her eyes, wrinkles even deeper due to the absence of fat that usually donned her face, making it look feisty, strong and durable. She hoped that it would return in time, giving her back her old look and strenght.

Back with Compote:

She just came into Streusens room, opening the windows and checking on him. He was vast asleep, a plush dog was tightly held by him which was a present from Forge, Compote asked him to do that for him and the Blacksmith agreed begrudgingly, for the sake of his stepdaughter. Ever since the fall from the Chateau, his mind deteriorated at a quick pace, making him literally a living vegetable by now.

The eldest daughter gently stroke his forehead, fixing his pillow a little bit. The old man barely reacted, a mumbling was all he could manage to bring out. His tongue licked his lips, seemingly he was dreaming. Maybe he was hungry, soon it was lunch time and he always had a big appetite. Compote sighed, knowing what trouble it would be to feed him later on, he was always so antsy and would try his best to throw away his dish over the whole table. She decided to give him something to drink, to moisten his mouth a little. This try was futile however as his lips pressed together tightly, forbidding every kind of fluid to get into him. With a slightly annoyed sigh, Compote gave up and left his room, lighting up a little light for him, as it started to get darker outside due to the rain clouds. He always was afraid of the darkness which broke Compote’s heart more than often. As he was a little agiler and his mental capacities better, he would come crawling into her bed, searching for comfort. She always accepted that as she knew he couldn’t help himself, feeling scared and alone. Even after he started to call her Mama a good year and a half ago, she kept her stance on the ever loving, forgiving daughter.

“I wonder how long it will rain this time...” she muttered to herself as she ran into Oven who was on his way to their mother. He rubbed his head and apologized for his rush.

“Oven, what’s the matter, why are you in such a hurry? And when you came back? Just now?” a literal tree of questions which were answered by her brother one by one.

“Be quiet though, Mama felt a little dizzy and can’t use any ruckus at the moment. You think you’re able to manage that?” she looked at her younger brother who nodded with a grin.

“Yes my dearest sister, I won’t forget it” he laughed, making his way to LinLin’s room. Compote simply rolled with her eyes, going down the hall in the throne room. She had to deal with important business and needed to settle a few things. Her brother PerosPero was at her side, helping her to keep the chaos in line. He was a big help and Compote was ever glad to have him at her side. They were a pretty good duo and were able to work together quite nicely which in hindsight was even better for Whole Cake Island.

They decided to lead the whole business until their mother was back at her full power and rested enough, for now, they took the pressure on ruling on them alone. Fruit and Candy Island was ruled by them at the same time, co-managing everything together. Daifuku, who was the newest Member of the Sweet Commanders, taking the place of Snack who had mysteriously vanished a while ago, was busy with his island and other business so he was barely on Whole Cake, same goes for Smoothie, Cracker, and Katakuri. They were closely working together with the newly formed First Defense Line Squad, which basically contained members of former Husbands of Big-Mom who lived in the Seducing Woods and after their banishment was broken, they started to fight alongside Compote and the others for Totland.

One Member of this troop was Forge, he was the Commander of them and leader and well known as the second Husband of Charlotte LinLin. They had a loving relationship and were together for a very long time. That was until she had born his children, after that, Streusen actively drove them away from each other, banishing Forge from ever entering WCI again.

This was long gone by now, however, yet a stinging feeling had stayed back, hunting him up to this date. Now that he learned that LinLin wanted to speak with him, a small dew of hope grew in his heart, hoping for a happy end.

He walked up to the Chateau a while later, fixing his attire so it wouldn’t look too shabby. As Forge entered the Chateau, he was greeted by the Servants and Compote who just came down with a stack of papers.

“Forge, it’s good to see you. Mama is waiting for you already. She is in her room.” she exclaimed, hurrying down another hallway. Forge nodded and made his way up to LinLin. He was a little nervous but did his best to stay civil. As he arrived at his former wife's door, Forge gently knocked on the door, waiting for a word of the Yonko. It came shortly later and with steady steps he entered her room, looking around until he found her. She was sitting on her bed, her hands folded on her lap, looking a little more relaxed as before. Her petite features instead of the usual bigger ones were a nice little change and made Forge feel like he was young again. Of course she looked a lot older now but still, it was something you don’t forget that fast.

He bowed in front of her, taking her hand to kiss it. LinLin had to chuckle slightly. She enjoyed his kisses still up to this date.

“It’s good to see you, Forge” she began, patting her left side of the bed. “Come, sit with me, I would like to chat with you a little more. For old times sakes...” her voice was softer as usual which probably was due to the effects of the painkillers she was on currently.

“Same I can say for my part” he replied solemnly, thinking about the day they broke up. “Glad to see you awake again. I was worried to be honest that you wouldn’t regain your consciousness, thankfully I was wrong” he added quickly, a wave of relieving washed off him. LinLin shook her head.

“You should know me better, I am not so easily beaten. My body may be malnourished now but I will soon regain my old strength back, and then my revenge will be hot like the sun, that i promise” she growled, cracking her knuckles dangerously.

“But that is not the reason why I called you to me today. In fact, Forge, I wanted to apologize...” she muttered, looking on the ground. “Apologizing for letting me drag myself into Streusen’s doctrine of throwing out my husbands after they gave me children” LinLin added, her tone of voice was changing indeed, it sounded sorrowful now. She looked at Forge and his reaction. He was silent the whole time.

“I still love you and wondered... I wondered if you still feel the same for me as I do...” she finally confessed which made Forge thinking for a moment. The man took LinLin’s hand and held it tightly, stroking the upper side of it.

“My feelings haven’t changed at all, over these past years, they grew even stronger, I think. I waited so long for your confession, the small hope I had deep down in my heart really turned out to be true...” LinLin blushed at this, smiling coyly.

“So...you’re not mad at me for throwing you out?” she asked a little unsure. Normally she would have reacted otherwise but her head was still cloudy. Forge shook his head slowly.

“No, in the contrary, I found many good friends after you banished me. They grew on me over time, like brothers.” Forge explained, all the while stroking LinLin’s giant hands. “Well now there is no more Streusen to stop us from anything, am i right?” he started, looking at her with a challenging look. She chuckled and nodded her head.

“Indeed, he is too busy with being a big baby by now” LinLin retorted, making both laughing in unison. They had a good laugh about it but decided to stop. It was not they enjoyed to mock the former Chef, but in a way, it was also sad enough to see him in such a vulnerable state.

“I made him a plush dog not so long ago, he literally hadn’t let go of it the whole time. Constantly having it by his side. He even talks with the plush. Compote told me the other day” he said, rubbing her knuckles gently. LinLin tilted her head amused.

“He really does that?” she asked, not really believing it. Forge nodded and took her hand. “I can show you. He just woke up it seems. I heard him babbling from outside the door” the blacksmith led LinLin out of her room and into Streusen’s. She wasn’t here for a little while, too busy with sleeping and regaining her strength. What she saw, truly shocked her. The old man was staring at a plush dog, stroking his fur slowly, talking incoherent words to him, seemingly telling him something. He didn’t realize the newcomers in his room, too focused on his furry friend.

LinLin slowly walked up to him, looking down at him with a frown. Forge followed closely.

“Streusen?” she asked carefully. He didn’t even react to her words. The former chef rocked himself back and forth, engulfed in his own little world. Forge shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

“As i said, totally spaced out. The poor fella doesn’t even recognize when he needs the bathroom. I pity him in a way, no one deserves such a fate, not even him.” Forge mused, seeing how drool dropped down Streusen’s mouth. He took a handkerchief and wiped it away softly. As both turned around to go, a strike of clarity hit Streusen and he turned around to them, a sad look on his face.

“LinLin, don’t leave me alone..” he muttered with a broken voice. The woman swallowed hard, trying not to look at him. “I-i am sorry...sorry sorry so sorry for everything...i..i..” as quick it came, it was lost again, leaving him babbling random words, his look glassy, spaced out as before. LinLin felt nauseatic out of sudden and had to leave the room. It was too much seeing him like that.

“Are you alright, Lin?” Forge asked, embracing her frame gently. The woman nodded, keeping her emotions together.

“Yeah, I am fine. It was just...strange, that’s all” she muttered, stroking her arm absent-minded. Forge laid an arm around her and started:

“Maybe you should go back in and make peace with him. It would be a good closure for you both, don’t you think?” they heard Streusen sobbing in his room which soon turned into loud wailing. Compote was alarmed and stormed up to see what was wrong with him. LinLin was sitting at Streusen’s bedside, holding him in her arms, stroking his head slowly. As her oldest daughter came in she was shocked to see her with him in her arms.

“Mama? What happened?” she asked confused, looking at the old man holding onto LinLin’s nightgown tightly, tears streaming down his wrinkly old face. Her mother rocked the former Headchef in her lap like she used to do it with her other children. It brought tears to Compotes eyes, watching the scene with a heavy heart.

“Nothing, I just made amends with Streusen, that is all. A closure if you will...” she muttered, not really sure why she did it either way. He had hurt her so many times, yet she couldn’t get it over her heart to leave him like that. “Maybe you should take him now, I think he already forgot who I am as he gets kind of fidgety here...” LinLin stated dryly, handing over Streusen to Compote who took him instantly. Then she left with Forge, they were walking hand in hand, as they used to do so way back. A smile was on both their faces. The Minister of Fruits wondered what really happened and simply watched them leave, trying to calm down her father.

“It`s okay Papa...no need to cry. I am here now” she whispered in his ear, walking around with him a little bit. As she sat down in a rocking chair, a picture book fell into her lap, making her raising a brow. It was a photo album to be precise. Compote was curious and took a look at some of the pictures. It showed the early times of their Crew, only with Streusen, LinLin, PerosPero, herself, Katakuri, Oven and Daifuku. They looked happy in most of the pictures which made Compote dwell in memories. She showed some pictures to Streusen who simply looked at them, not really able to judge where they belong to. At least he stopped crying she thought, busy stroking his head.

Back with the old couple:

It finally stopped to rain and the clouds started to wither away, making space for the sun and her rays of warmth. Forge and LinLin were standing on the balcony of her room, gazing into the horizon, hand in hand like so many years ago. They enjoyed the bright light and soft breeze that set in. LinLin closed her eyes and thought herself back to her 19th birthday and the night they spent together.

“You know, Forge? I think I am going to stay off duty for a little longer. My kids seem to make a decent job in running the country without me. A short while more won’t make a difference. More time to enjoy other activities...” she whispered in his ear, making him blush a little.

“Like in old times?” he retorted cheekily, rubbing her knuckles gently. LinLin nodded with a smirk, nudging him jokingly. Then he let him step on her hand, lifting him up to her face. They stared into each other’s eyes deeply before joining in a passionate kiss, like they did so many years ago.

The end

//this was inspired by a thread I have with @ask-oven . It’s sort of an Au where LinLin originally didn’t want to discard her husbands after giving her children, Streusen was the one who suggested doing so, giving him no concurrence or whatsoever. He is a very jealous old man and a little pervert as well I have to admit. At least how i wrote him here. And Streusens end? Well in a way he deserves a destiny like this, yet it’s hard to watch someone prideful, reduced to nothing more than an overgrown baby. This woven in another HC I have about him which happens to him after the fall from the Chateau. Either way, hope you guys liked it. It took me quite a while to write it lol//

[classywastelandbread-blog]

Bastian & Efi (for lack of a better title) 2/?

Part 1 here.

Sorry for any inconsistencies with the previous bit, I wrote them months apart and the blurbs I wrote today were written from memory. I did a quick check-through to make sure they were at least mostly on point but there may be a few pieces missing or adjusted. 

Efi didn’t visit for a week. It was discouraging.

Not that he had expected to, but he didn’t see Orisa either. He had the feeling that she was a private nurse for Efi and not actually a part of Watchpoint.

The doctors and nurses poked and prodded at him. They changed his bandages and gave him medicine and the male nurse returned every once in a while to give him a very embarrassing sponge bath.

Orisa visited one afternoon with a book and a few pieces of paper. She explained that Efi had been very sick though she was vague about what kind of sickness.

If Bastian was able to, he wouldn’t have asked more anyway after he saw the bone-deep worry in Orisa’s strangely golden eyes.

She explained that Efi missed Bastian and had asked Orisa to visit him in her place so that she could deliver a book and drawings that Efi had done for him.

Efi hadn’t wanted him to feel forgotten.

The nurses visited and tittered around him as they checked his injuries. He could feed himself with supervision, and the nurses turned it into a social party amongst themselves. They ate lunch with him but it was more as if he were a statue they had all clustered around.

The doctors visited and fiddled with his IVs but acted as if he were inanimate, less interesting than their phones or pagers.

Efi did not visit, but Bastian read the book she gave him and ran the fingers he had left over the wax lines from her crayons.

Dr. Kayode visited the day after Orisa had given him the book and message from Efi. Through the crude speech board they had created, Bastian asked for a coloring book or scrap pieces of paper and markers or maybe crayons. If the man knew why he was asking for such things he gave no sign except to offer Bastian a wide smile when he returned with the requested items.

It took some time to be able to work with…well, anything really, and Bastian relished the challenge.

He was finishing his first drawing when Orisa snuck in, well past visiting hours. Efi was unconscious over her shoulder but Bastian couldn’t see her with how she was bundled up.

Orisa smiled when Bastian offered the picture – it was crude, some kind of jay that he vaguely remembered seeing one day in the gardens with Ginny. The drab blues and whites were too boring so he turned it gold and white and green and orange like a sunny day in the park. Orisa assured him that Efi would love it and as soon as she woke up, she would present it to her.

She also left the news that Efi may be doing better and if the medicine didn’t make her too sick, they may be able to visit when she was awake. Orisa smiled tiredly and Bastian tried to do the same as they left.

Efi visited the next day. Her chocolate skin was sallow and she looked too thin but whatever nausea was hanging on her face was eclipsed by the wide grin she gave him when she saw him awake.

She was very sick, she told him as she apologized for not visiting. They called it ren…ren…rental? Rental failure! They had her on medicines and doing something involving a big needle and a scary machine that made her sleepy.

Renal failure, Bastian realized but didn’t say. She meant renal failure.

Efi curled into his side and he hoped that he didn’t smell too badly but if he did she gave no sign that she was bothered by it. Orisa found them napping like that later as she very gently picked Efi up and carried her away.

To his surprise, Orisa leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before she left and thanked him in a voice that was quieter than a whisper.

It was pure luck that Bastian saw Dr. Winston later that day. The other doctor wasn’t in a rush though he looked exhausted. The man still helped him set up their crude speech board and Bastian asked – Efi – renal failure?

The other doctor made a face and reminded him that he couldn’t disclose patient information.

Bastian rolled his eyes and tried not to make it seem so condescending. There were more things on his mind than usual, clamoring for attention like a schoolbus full of excited children.

That night, Bastian stayed up late, going over lists and pros and cons in his head.

He wrote down his thoughts as well as he was able to and when the nurses came the next morning he tried to get their attention.

As annoying as it was, he wasn’t entirely surprised that it didn’t work. When they left he pressed the CALL NURSE button.

Again, no one came.

He waited for a while, would have ground his jaws if he could, and then pushed the button again.

When no one came once more, he considered his options carefully. The crude hospital-issued prosthetics required to hands and he only had two fingers and a thumb, making good use of his walker was out of the question. He wasn’t attached to any monitoring devices anymore – no EKG, no breathing tube – so creating a malfunction that would set off alarms was also out of the question.

But…there was a wheelchair in the corner.

Giving the nurses one more chance, Bastian mashed the button with his thumb and waited for fifteen minutes.

Forgotten, he grumbled in his own mind, rolling his eyes as well as he was able to. Well and truly forgotten.

Carefully tucking a corner of his note into his mouth and gripping it with his lips (and hopping he didn’t drool all over it), he eased down the railing and regarded the distance between the top of his bed and the ground. In the past it hadn’t seemed like such a height but knowing of his attempt at jailbreak…

Very carefully he wrapped his remaining fingers around the railing and eased his broken legs over the edge of the bed. His broken knee was of no help and stuck straight out but his other leg was nearly as useless, trapped in a cast as it was. He had no boot on it as no one had expected him to move around as he was doing and even though he wasn’t resting any weight on it, he could already feel the plaster slipping against the smooth tile.

Pick your battles, he told himself grimly and set his eyes on the next step: getting to the damn wheelchair.

Gripping the railing as well as he was able to, he eased himself over the edge and gingerly added weight to his good leg. Unsurprisingly the cast slipped on the slick tile and he ended up on the ground.

He grunted when he hit the unforgiving tile but was fortunate that he took the brunt on the impact on his hip and shoulder and the meat of his butt rather than his skull but he almost wrenched his good arm out of its socket to prevent such a fall. Biting back the cry of pain, his hand slipped and he was well and truly trapped on the ground. The cold tile seared a line of not-quite-pain up open back of his medical gown and he sighed, resigning himself to his fate of being trapped on the tile until lunch or whenever someone decided to visit him.

At least his junk was covered, which was a small miracle.

He had taken his note out of his mouth and the tile was very slowly starting to warm under him when Orisa ambled in. She frowned down at him in a nurse’s patented concerned-slash-disapproving look and shook her head as she helped him up and back on the bed despite his adamant gestures to go into the chair.

Wait, she advised, rolling her golden eyes as she found blankets and cushions which she placed into the chair before lifting him – as if he were a child, or a doll, and Orisa was strong – into the chair as he wanted to. She fussed over him some more, fluffing pillows, settling his gown, and sliding on the prosthetic limb he had been presented by the hospital.

Patting his cheek absently, she unlocked the wheels of the chair, placed his note in his hands, and began rolling him out of the room.

She asked him as they walked why he didn’t call for a nurse and with an annoyed grunt, Bastian mimed pressing the CALL NURSE button on the arm of his chair and she only sighed once in sympathy. The nurse’s station was empty when they passed it and the phones were ringing incessantly.

When Bastian pointed it out to Orisa with a questioning glance up at her, she made a face and said nothing. She wheeled him down the halls and through what felt like a hundred doors before the blank walls were gradually taken up by construction paper drawings and decals of fish and zoo animals.

Orisa explained that this was the children’s ward and that Efi was in for a “little visit” but the doctors didn’t want her to leave her room. Since Bastian was more mobile than she was at the moment, Orisa was sent to fetch him.

She added very quietly that Dr. Winston thought that seeing her friend would do her good and he read a thousand meanings in the tiny waver he heard in her accented voice.

Seeing him, Efi nearly shrieked with glee and Orisa helped Bastian hide his crude notes when she tried to hug him. The girl was connected by a spider’s web of machines and nodes and perhaps his horror must have shown on his face because Efi squeezed his hands reassuringly and told him that it wasn’t so bad.

He didn’t like that she seemed so used to giving such answer and did his best to distract her from all of the needles and nodes and tubes exploding outward from her tiny body.

The thing was that whatever was happening with Efi made her tired; she fell asleep after an hour of chatting away with Bastian and something fragile in him crumbled to see her seem to sink into her pillows and blankets.

Orisa came back, seeming to somehow sense that her charge was unconscious and told him in a whisper that she’d take him to Dr. Winston. She handed him the note back and pushed him out of the room and down the hall.

The man had visited Bastian far more often than was warranted, considering he was a pediatrician, but he still seemed surprised and pleased to see him again. He helped Orisa to move the chairs in his office to accommodate Bastian and his chair before the nurse patted Bastian’s shoulder and left to give them privacy. She closed the door behind her.

Pulling out a blank notebook, Dr. Winston asked Bastian how he was and they absently moved around societal norms to pretend that they had simply met each other without business to speak of.

Dr. Winston was too polite to outright ask why he was there, so Bastian took it upon himself and passed over the first note. EFI, it said. RENAL FAILURE. SAD.

Yes, Dr. Winston said, peering at Bastian cautiously over his glasses.

Bastian pursed his lips and passed over the next. KIDNEY? AB+ ME & EFI

The doctor very carefully put the note down. He cautioned that there were more factors for compatibility than just blood type. His hand twitched toward a stack of folders on his desk.

DO TESTS, Bastian’s next note tests. I WILL.

Dr. Winston asked if he was willing to do all of the tests necessary, was willing to go through all of that work and pain and frustration to test if he was compatible with Efi. There was a lot to be done, a lot of painful tests and in the end he might not be a match.

TAKE ANYWAY, Bastian’s next to final note said. FOR EFI OR NOT.

The doctor pursed his lips. There was more at stake and more issues than simple consent, he warned Bastian. He wanted to know if Bastian was willing to go through all of it for a child he hardly knew.

Bastian handed over the last two pages in his hands. One was his final note: EFI IS A CHILD --> HAPPY; the other was one of the pictures that Orisa had brought over while she was unable to visit.

For a long moment, Dr. Winston looked down at the picture, an odd look on his face. He informed Bastian that they needed to work on his penmanship while he reached for the phone.

The first step was payment.

Through their crude speech board, they agreed not to tell Efi or Orisa (or the Oladeles) of their covert plan. In the end it wouldn’t matter anyway, since after all of the tests and orientations, Bastian was delivering a kidney regardless.

They both just hoped that it would go to Efi.

Bastian had languished long enough on his own without answering the pressing questions of why he was at Watchpoint and now was the time to learn the answer. He met an accountant, a very shy woman by the name of Satya Vaswani, who was one of the many in charge of bookkeeping at the recovery center. She explained to them in very clipped words that there were regular payments scheduled with an account though who was paying she wasn’t entirely certain nor was she really able to disclose that information. What she could tell them was that the invoices were sent to a P.O. Box somewhere in Indiana and payment was sent via check and through a direct deduction from an account.

In essence, all of Bastian’s medical bills were more than paid in full.

She knew who he was – it turned out that she was one of the few that did – but the other person in the know, a nurse named Athena, had been told to keep his identity a secret. After some gentle cajoling by Dr. Winston, the only one of the pair able to do so, Satya admitted that she found it more than ridiculous but all of the bills were paid early or on time and the excess was used to assist in other areas.

Knowing that Satya knew who he was, Bastian carefully told them that Indiana was the site of one of his parents’ larger estates and one of the largest production company of the military robots that made his parents’ company famous. She couldn’t tell him the information due to confidential issues – this was said with a pointed look at Dr. Winston who shrugged – but she admitted that it seemed likely that his family was paying for it.

When Dr. Winston asked why they were accepting double payments and not trying to return the rest, Satya gave him a sour look that told him clearly that he shouldn’t try to tell her how to do her job. She explained in an overly-patient way that betrayed her annoyance that they had tried but whatever payment they tried to return was in turn paid again. Whoever was approving the double payments had been doing it deliberately though for what reason, none of them could guess.

The next difficulty was the legality of it.

They called Athena in – it turned out that she was working at that time, which was fortunate for them – and she was able to give them more information…after scolding Bastian for being out of his room and missing lunch. Their meeting was put on hold for a moment while she fetched Bastian a tray and Satya shyly volunteered to go with her to get lunch for Dr. Winston and herself, as she was still needed for the meeting.

It left Bastian alone with Dr. Winston who after excusing himself, checked a few emails and went through a few folders while they waited.

Athena was a brisk and almost sour-faced woman. She watched Bastian like a hawk but didn’t try to help him more than he needed it. As embarrassing as it was, it was nice to know that she was looking out for him. She even gave him a few hints and tricks that he hadn’t yet figured out about operating with two fingers, a thumb, and half a forearm.

When everyone had eaten, the meeting continued and Athena gave her piece of the story after swearing them all to secrecy.

The Metzen family – here, Bastian winced and couldn’t help it – declared Bastian dead. One of the reasons she was forced to enter Bastian’s information in as “John Doe” at first. She had locked down the system for a few months until she decided it was safe enough and let Dr. Winston (who had apparently been the one to authorize his new patient bracelet) change the name.

Legally Bastian wasn’t dead – he didn’t have a death certificate as that was, strangely enough, one of the few things that Watchpoint wasn’t able to do – but according to everyone else, he was. He had been saved by a strange twist of legality but she cautioned that she was fairly certain that he was wiped from all wills or rules of succession for Metzen Industries. Aside from the miracle payments for his stay at Watchpoint, there was unlikely to be anything that addressed his survival.

When asked, Athena admitted that she wasn’t certain what had happened to him, either. The mud and branches that had covered his body when he was admitted – as well as the state of his body – gave her a few hints, but she wasn’t certain she could hazard a guess.

He asked about Ginny and Athena shrugged. Five other people had come in at the same time as him but none of them had been named “Ginny” and none of them were left at Watchpoint. The way she said it implied that they were all dead and he resolved not to ask more.

Without his words, without the use of his lips and tongue, he couldn’t ask any more about her or explain what she looked like and not for the first time his forced silence frustrated him. He put it aside and tried not to think of coconut and strawberries, of green eye shadow and smirking purple lips.

The meeting continued.

[kiingmango]

11 questions meme

rules: 

1. always post the rules. 2. answer the questions given by the person who tagged you. 3. write 11 questions of your own and tag 11 (or however many) people to answer them.

I was tagged by @notbrogues @thisbirdhadflown and  @embersofimagination  thank you! (under a cut because this will be looong)

notbrogues questions:

1. Describe your least favorite character

Okay so if I’m being completely honest, my least favorite characters all really come down to just plain irritating behavior. Daisy in Bones has a sort of insensitivity to her that bothers me, and Sophie in the BFG due to her almost blunt treatment of the BFG.

2. A go-to comfort meal/snack/treat

Noodles and Rice because I’m the most Korean to ever Korean

3. Describe a perfect vacation, with no limit on funds or how long you can stay there.

Honestly I would probably take a vacation in Europe, touring all the sites there and traveling between Germany and France and England with only a car (Is this how people travel between countries though? I feel as if Ive been misinformed)

4. Do you listen to podcasts? If so, what are you favourites?

I have to say that I do not listen to Podcasts. I actually don’t understand what a Podcast is exactly?

5. One widely accepted fanon headcanon that you just don’t agree with?

The name of Eggsy’s younger sister. When i first came in I thought it was canon but now I’m kind of eh about it. What if they change her name in the second movie? 

6. One story/movie/song/album/piece of art that resonated with you and that you will never be able to forget?

Really for me I have read multiple first-hand account stories of people experiencing an array of different situations. that I won’t forget that I probably couldn’t choose one. (I find it hard to emotionally connect with music, and I’m not really a big art person)

7. If you have a day off, no responsibilities or pressing matters to attend to: what are you doing for the rest of the day?

I’m probably playing some soft music, reading for a while with a comfy blanket. Alternatively, I’m hanging out with my family 

8. Favourite past trend that you are most nostalgic for?

When everyone had DS’s (I’m pretty sure this is a trend..?) IDK I miss when I could whip out my DS and play Mario Kart and then switch to message my friend to come battle me. Technically, I could do that on my phone but my DS was pink and I had a cute carrier for it

9. What’s a hobby/skill you’ve always wanted to learn?

How to defend myself. Like i can throw a basic punch, and fight off someone if I need to but I’ve always wanted to learn how to box, or do karate or something super cool. (Idk don’t ask me I’m strange)

10. Where do you see yourself in ten years?

Done with school, and maybe with a family. I’ve gotten quite a few of my life goals done and now I’m ready to settle with someone :)

11. What was your first fandom? First OTP? First NOTP? Any memorable experiences from those early days?

My first ever fandom was Avatar the Last Airbender. My first ever OTP was Katara and Zuko, and my first ever NOTP was in the Avengers fandom, being Cap and Natasha. I just could only ever see them as friends, or in a brother/sister way

thisbirdhadflown’s questions:

1. We all did embarrassing things as teenagers. Share a story!

So there was a lot of fake piercings in sixth grade that I made from key chains and a nail file.

2. What is a headcanon for one of your OTPs?

Im going to go with Hartwin on this one. For them it’s a lot of lover’s squabbles about not wanting to do the dishes, folding laundry, and then kisses and smiles and deciding they would do it together. 

3. One book that had a huge influence on you?

I read this book called Wonder by RJ Palacio that I found helped me when I was younger to understand people who were different from me, and it opened some doors for me to understanding people’s disabilities and what they needed. 

4. Who is one misunderstood character?

Probably Natasha Romanoff. I feel like because people who watch the movies have such little information on her background that she’s easily misinterpreted. 

5. What are your pet peeves?

Lying. I mean, sometimes lying is necessary, but most of the time if you’re lying to me I’ll be very annoyed. 

6. One thing you wish you knew as a child/teen that you know now?

That I can wear what I want and it doesn’t matter what other people think. I struggle with it even today, but back then it was a lot of loose t-shirts and pants. Now, I feel more comfortable wearing dresses and crop tops. 

7. Would you like to be famous? In what way?

I’m comfortable not being famous, and really I have little desire to. But if I was famous I would have to say I would want to be famous as a movie producer, or script writer. 

8. Best part about getting older?

I’d have to say independence. 

9. One thing you really enjoy and one thing you really dislike about fandom?

So I am going to base my answer off Kingsman since that’s my main fandom right now. I really enjoy the talent and creativity, and the people in it are all friendly and so welcoming! I really love how simple things like how OTP’s spend their down time can bring people together. I also love how little drama this fandom has. However I dislike the occasional anon hate that we get, and of course like in every fandom we have the “we don’t have enough of this but I’m not going to do it so YOU have to do it” 

10. What makes and breaks a fic for you?

I think it’s the flow of the writing, I really can’t read choppy writing. It makes my brain go “huh? why?” 

embersofimagination’s questions:

1. Do you prefer tea, coffee, or neither?

Neither. I’m more of a juice person really. Although occasionally I’ll have some fancy coffee with my mom 

2. Do you go through “phases” with fandoms? Where you are all about one fandom for days, weeks, months, etc. then go onto the next or do you have one primary fandom you don’t stray far from?

I feel that I’m actively in multiple fandoms, but I switch my focus. If something is happening with Sherlock that’s where all my attention will be. I’m pretty much knee 

3. Are you an extrovert or an introvert?

A bit of both. I can really only handle one or two people at a time, but I will go out with more. I always come home from those days absolutely exhausted so then I spend a few days by myself. I love talking however, so yeah. A bit of both

4. Do you have otps? If so, name three.

Ah yes, I have many. Hartwin, Merwin, and Stony (from marvel)

5. Why do ship what you ship? Ex: they look pretty together, they compliment each other’s character, just for the lolz?

I ship Hartwin and Merwin for the same reason. Not only does Eggsy look good with both of them (ugh Merhartwin is swoon worthy also) but there’s so much to play with! Physical Hurt comfort? Emotional hurt comfort? fake/pretend relationship? Domestic fics???? #Blessed

6. What is one thing you learned/know that you wish more people knew about?

How to cook honestly. I get a lot of “I burn water” and sometimes people can literally not cook anything. But a lot of the times people just never had anyone to teach them how 

7. Are you a morning person or night owl?

Night Owl. Which in turn makes me hate mornings haha

8. Do you like tropes or trope subversion?

I think I enjoy both. I love a twist at the end but I also love when a scene plays out like I wanted it to.

9. What inspires you?

Other people inspire me. I think it’s the idea that other people believe in me and want me to succeed just as much that pushes me. Of course, I try my best to return the favor, and it’s that mutual system of support inspires me. 

10. Do you have an aesthetic? If so, what is it?

I think it would probably be rainy days and warm kitchens. Also, copper pots. (Oh god I love copper bottom pots)

11. Favorite season (if you have one)? 

Autumn! Sweaters make me so happy <3

Thank you guys for tagging me! I had fun answering your questions! Now here are my 11 questions :)

Favorite Character? Why?

What’s the weather like where you live?

Do you have a major goal in life you haven’t completed yet?

Do you have something from your childhood that you miss? 

Favorite memory from school? 

Any strange phobias?

Are you a hugger or a no touch kind of person?

Describe something that made you happy this week

Do you get motion sick/carsick/airsick?

Is there a special skill you have that most people can’t do?

What’s a phrase you say a lot?

I'm gonna tag people in the next post!