#ive been lying for 4 months to everyone i know

[chleby-i-ksiezyce]

ya know, i actually should be more insane

[slaybestieslay946]

Luke Castellan and Persephone!Child (I know she doesn’t canonically have Demi-god kids but I feel like it fits well) with a story similar to Eurydice and Orpheus’s sad tale.

thank you so much for your request, it acc ties in really well to a fic idea ive had for a while, so i was so excited to see this in my inbox!!

Circle

MASTERLIST

word count: 1800

pairing: luke castellan x persephone!reader

warnings: death, minor depictions of violence, angst

a/n: partly inspired by the request, partly by mitski's song 'circle' honestly i think it made this extra gut-wrenching. hope you all enjoy!

'Nobody knows my lover, is buried underground.'

When Luke Castellan received his quest, everyone knew who he would pick to take with him. 

Immediately, he turned to you, flashing you a bright grin, and beckoning you towards him. You laughed, wading through the crowd to your lover, smiling brightly all the way. 

The rest of camp half blood rolled their eyes fondly at the pair of you, and just how disgustingly in love you were. 

It had been like this ever since you arrived at camp half blood, mere months after Luke himself. 

You’d been escorted to the Hermes cabin by one of the older campers, and sat down on a bunk bed. You had looked around the place, lost, confused, and homesick. 

And then a boy stepped up to you, asking how you were, what your name was. And gods, even at the age of 14, you knew he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. Luke thought the same about you. 

He was so drawn to you, he couldn’t stay away. 

Now, even 4 years later, nothing had changed. 

He was openly enraptured by you, just as Hades was with your mother. He was never seen without you by his side, so of course he’d pick you to bring on his first quest.

A few days later, you set off, Luke’s half-brother, Chris Rodriguez in tow. Everything started off well, you’d managed to locate someone to tell you where the Garden of Hesperides was, in order to retrieve the golden apple that you had been sent for. 

On the way there, you hardly encountered any monsters. You lived comfortably, even if you slept in motels every night, and dined on gas station food. 

It all went downhill when you finally reached the garden. 

You and Chris stood guard whilst Luke stepped towards the tree, no sword in his hand. You kept your spear gripped tightly in your hand, should he awake the dragon sleeping at his feet. 

He eventually reached the foot of the tree, taking a deep breath before reaching up into the branches, and trying to snag one of the apples. Meanwhile, you didn’t take your eyes off the dragon, watching it for any sign of movement. 

And when it finally opened its dark eye, looking up at Luke, you ran forward, sprinting towards it with your spear outstretched to stab it. 

But you weren’t fast enough, and it turned, slashing a talon across your chest, and sending you collapsing onto the ground, blood soaking into your shirt. 

Luke darted towards you and in his rush, he wasn’t able to avoid the sharp tail of the dragon whipping across his face, leaving a fine cut all the way down it. 

He ignored the biting pain, barely able to register it when all he could see was you, lying on the floor, a pool of blood encircling you. 

“Hey, Y/N.” He whispered, patting your cheek gently, cradling your body to his chest, “You’re gonna be alright, yeah? Just open your eyes for me baby.” 

You struggled to do as he asked, looking up at your lover with confused eyes. 

“You-” You coughed, “You have to go. It’s over for me. Gonna go see mom.”

“No, no. Gotta stay with me. We can get through this.” He cried, brushing his thumbs across your face.

“I- I- I love y-you. W-we’ll s-see each other ag-gain.” You did your best to smile, and while all you wanted to do was reach up and hold his face, you found you didn’t have the strength to do so. 

He continued to cry and beg you to come back, but it was all for nothing, you’d gone silent, and your eyes were all still. 

And then vines began to wrap around your body, pulling you into the earth, down towards Persephone, your mother. 

Luke kept crying as they took you away from him, leaving nothing but your camp necklace behind. 

“Hey, man, we gotta go.” He heard Chris call, and he whipped his head around to berate him, until he saw his half-brother was currently in combat with the dragon that had killed you. 

He was right, they had to go. 

He scooped your camp necklace off of the ground, and ran towards his brother, who detached from his fight with the dragon to run away from the garden. Luke followed after him, tears streaming down his face the whole way. 

*

When Luke got back to camp, he was different. Numb. 

Annabeth ran up to him when they descended the hill, a bright smile on her face at her older brother's return. It faded slightly when she saw you weren’t right beside him. 

“Where’s Y/N?” She asked, looking around as if you’d pop out from nowhere.

“Gone.” Was all Luke could manage to say, pulling his little sister in for a hug he so desperately needed, confirmation that at least she was still here. 

For the next few months, he barely left the Hermes cabin, only ever going down to the amphitheatre in the early hours of the morning, where he could be seen slashing recklessly at wooden dummies left right and centre. 

He didn’t know how to live without you. He always thought you’d be with him forever. He had this vision that together you would grow old, and would die while sitting on some front porch, holding hands as you went at the same moment. 

Now he realised that it was a pipedream. You were demigods, it was never going to work out like that. 

But he couldn’t go on living like this. He didn’t want to wake up in the morning if you weren’t beside him. So he formed his plan, to go down to the underworld and retrieve you himself. 

His father was the god of travellers, and your mother was the queen of the underworld. It could work. 

So he travelled to the entrance to the underworld, your camp necklace in his hands, and prayed. First to your mother, asking for an audience, and second to his father, asking for use of his access to the underworld. It was the first time he had ever asked Hermes for anything, and if this worked, it would probably be the last. He’d never want for anything again if it meant you were with him again. 

And it did work. The gate opened to him, a long staircase down into the darkness. Luke descended quickly; he didn’t want to keep Persephone, or you for that matter, waiting.

He soon found himself pushing through crowds of lost souls, keeping a look out for you, but you were nowhere in sight. He then turned his attention back to reaching Persephone’s throne, breathing a sigh of relief as he finally found himself at the foot of it, looking up at the goddess herself. 

“You requested an audience with me, Mr Castellan. I hope this is not about my daughter.” Persephone said sternly, looking down at the demigod, her fears confirmed when she saw the string of beads clutched in his hands. 

“It is, but-”

“There’s no buts. I can’t do anything about your predicament. It is not within my jurisdiction.” She declared, her voice growing regretful, “My daughter is in Elysium, and that’s where she must stay.” 

“My lady, I understand that this is difficult for you. But we both know Y/N… died before her time. She would want to come back. She deserves to have a life.” 

“And you would give that to her?” 

“Yes.” 

“And you would protect her, better than I can?”

Luke gulped, “Just as well.” 

The goddess sighed, and muttered, almost to herself, “We have had this problem before, persuasive mortals and their tales of love. Let’s see if you can fare any better, Luke Castellan.” 

“I will release my only daughter from the underworld, on one condition. As you lead her back into the world of the living, you mustn’t look back at her. She will be following you, trust me on that, demigod.” 

“And if I do? Look back?” 

“Then you will never see her again. Not in your world, nor mine,” She looked down at him once again, a sad look in her eyes, “Now go, exit through the fields of asphodel, she will follow you from there.” 

Luke nodded firmly, and turned back around, returning the way he came, smiling more brightly than he had in months. 

He was going to see his Y/N again, all he had to do was not look back at her, how difficult could that be?

He pushed his way back through the fields of asphodel, keeping a tight hold of her camp beads. As soon as they reached the surface, he would string them around her neck again. He’d be able to hold her face in his palms, to kiss her, to hug her. Everything would be alright again. 

As he returned to the staircase, he felt a rush of wind behind him. It had to be her. Then, to confirm his suspicions, he heard soft footsteps on the stone staircase. Luke smiled to himself once again, wishing so desperately that he could greet her, but not wanting to break Persephone’s rules. 

He continued up the staircase for what felt like hours, it was definitely taking him a lot longer this time. The thing that kept him going was your footsteps behind him, a reminder that you were still there, following after him. 

Until they stopped, right as he became able to see the light coming from the living world above him. 

He paused for a moment, listening out for you. But he couldn’t hear anything besides his panting breaths and the odd screech of a harpy. 

Luke began to grow worried, a pit forming in his stomach, but he kept climbing the stairs. Persephone told him you’d be following, she wouldn’t lie, would she?

Or maybe it was all some elaborate joke. Fortune hadn’t been on his side recently. 

Maybe he should check. Just a peek, it couldn’t hurt, could it? What was so wrong about him looking back anyway, why shouldn’t he want to see his lover, the girl he would do anything for?

So he did. He turned, to look over his shoulder. 

And of course, you were right behind him, just like your mother said you would. 

At first you looked joyful to see him, and then your face fell in horror as you realised what he had done. You reached out to touch him, to hold on, but you couldn’t quite reach. And then you felt yourself being pulled back, away from him. 

Luke watched on in horror as you fell back into the abyss.

[mangosrar]

Tough guy Jasper.

pt2 of middle game!!

chris sturniolo x fem reader.

pt1 “middle game”

warnings: alottttt of angst, fighting, chris being a hero 🫶

"Hey nick whats up?". It was currently around 6.30pm on a friday night and Rue was getting ready for a party. Some influencer had invited her, Nick, Matt and Chris and each of them a plus one. Nick and Matt had decided against bringing anyone but, obviously Chris was bringing his girlfriend, Sophie, and Rue was bringing Jasper, her boyfriend of 4 months. How fun.

"I was just wondering if you needed Matt to pick you up later?" His voice rang through the speaker.

"Uh no its good Jaspers gonna drive us there" The girl internally screamed at the thought of Chris and Jasper being within a mile radious of eachother. Truth was, after Rue and Chris had confessed to being in love with eachother, they fooled around for a while before Chris miraculously decided he wasnt ready for a relationship. So naturally Rue did what she saw best fit: to get over one man, get under another, however the irony was, she was still getting under the guy she was trying to get over. Both of them were just as bad as eachother, proven so, when Chris had found out that his beloved Rue had moved on, obviously he had to do the same.

"Oh okay cool. I cant wait to see you, we havent seen you in like 2 weeks bro" Rue couldn’t help but scrunch her face up at the word. We. She wished she could be honest with her best friend but how was she supposed to say 'Nick youre so silly, its just you and matt i havent seen, i was actually getting my bones jumped by your brother last night behind my boyfriends back but snuck out this morning before anyone was up. See you at the party!!!'. She was doomed.

"Me too Nick, ive missed you so much" She wrapped up the conversation and carried on getting ready, but she couldn’t shake the overarching feeling of guilt. She was lying to everyone she loved. Well all but one.

7.30 pm rolled around fast and before she knew it she was waiting for Jasper to pull up. She felt and looked great. Clad in a skin tight dress that stopped just below her knees, white heels, and a perfect amount of clevage on show. Jasper will love this, but Chris would love it more. And just like he infiltrated her thoughts, he infiltrated her attention. Her phone chimed and she raced to check it.

Chris: Tough guy Jaspers coming huh?

Rue: Yes. Sophie?

Chris: Na something came up shes not coming. But you will be 🙃

Rue: Talkin about you "making me come" and your girlfriends name in the same sentence? player

Chris: You know it sweetheart. See you soon.

Asshole.

The party was heaving by the time they arrived. The smell of alcohol and weed heavy in the air. Nick had quickly found Rue and Jasper, Matt in tow, but Chris was nowhere to be seen.

"Wheres Chris?" She couldnt help but ask, curiosity killed the cat.

"Hes outside on the phone to Sophie, he'll be over in a sec" Matt replied shooting her a tight lipped smile. Rue was never really that close to Matt, sure they were freinds but not like how she was with Chris or Nick.

"Speak of the devil and he shall apear" Jasper muttered but it fell on deaf ears, hed said it quiet enough for only her to hear. Jasper was never really fond of Chris. Or anyone who came near his girlfriend really. He always said Chris was 'too friendly' or 'too handsy'. You dont know the half of it.

"Rue, long time no see" Chris pulled rue in for a hug. His hands rested just above her ass and he seperated himself from the girl with a toothy grin, she threw him a warning look saying 'carefull', he just moved his eyes to the left of her and let them land on Jasper.

"What up bro" Chris held his hand out for Jasper to take and he ignored him completely. Not even sparing him a glance.

"Jas dont be rude" She looked over to Jasper with wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows, after realising she had been staring at Chris this entire time. Jasper just scoffed and continued looking everywhere but Rue or her friends. Rue wanted the floor to open and swallow her up right there and then. Chris just raised his eyebrows and scoffed with a surprised smile turning to look at the poor girl. The look on his face told her everything his mouth didnt. Tough guy Jasper. Huh.

"Im gonna go get a drink ill be back in a sec" She didnt even wanna think about how awkward it would be after she walked away. Making a bee line for the kitchen island that was full of different drinks, she picked up the vodka, popped the lid off the bottle and started chugging. Ew.

The party was now well and truly under way and Rue was definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol. Chris had been watching her all night, he was like a hunter watching its prey, ready to pounce any second. He had been watching Jasper put his hands all over Rue where his should be. He hated it. It was like torture. He just wanted to go over there and beat Jasper to a bloody pulp, but somehow he couldnt help but be angry at her. He couldnt understand why she was letting Jasper touch her like that when she knew Chris was watching.

There were drunk or high bodies dancing all over eachother, including Rue and Jasper. He was far too drunk for his girlfriends liking but she didnt care. Her back was flush to his chest and she was dancing on him like it was nobodys business. except Chris'. He was like a hawk. He sat across from where they were dancing, scowl on his face, smoking a blunt, man spreading in all his glory for her too see, and god did he look sexy. If it wasnt for the man behind her whispering how horny he was in her ear, she would have walked Chris out of that party and fucked him in the car. For a moment she considered it, but Jasper had other ideas.

He grabbed her arm and before she knew it they were in the hallway about to be lead up the stairs. The same stairs she had just been up with Chris about an hour ago. His face between her legs in some random bathroom, her hand slapped over her mouth.

"You like this dont you mh? Coming on my face while you’re boyfriend waits for you down stairs?" He tutted at her.

"I hope you dont kiss your girlfreind with that mouth" She breathed out in a strangled whine, as Chris dived back in, devouring her like a starved man. He didn’t even bother to respond, he just looked up at her and smirked.

Focus Rue.

She pulled back slightly stopping her boyfreind in his tracks.

"What are you doing?" Her voice slightly raised so he would hear you over the music. Jasper came closer to her grabbing her ass, moving his face down to her ear, planting kisses there.

"Come on baby i need you right now" He continued running his hands all over, despite rue trying to push him off.

"I dont want to Jasper. lets just wait until we get home" He was a man who could not be moved. He continued pulling her towards the stairs but she was having none of it.

"Jas come on" Rue struggled in his grip. He ignored her protests and carried on pulling her arm. His grip was unwavering and she was sure there would be bruises in the morning. Rue wasn’t weak by any means, but Jasper was much stronger than she was.

"Jasper stop it, youre hurting me" She was now panicked and stone cold sober, distress evident in her shaky voice, and desperately pulling against him but he was not letting up. He carried on pulling her through the hall way towards the stairs in a death grip.

She was helpless, the only thing running through her mind was how Chris would never do this. Chris. Chris. Chris.

CHRIS.

Before she could even protest Chris had lached his hands onto Jaspers shirt, roughly pulling him back, away from Rue. Jasper came stumbling back and it was like everything was suddenly going in slowmotion. The look on Chris' face spoke volumes, 'i’m going to tell him'. She kept her eyes on his, wordlessly begging not to say anything. But before she could even get a word in, Chris opened his mouth.

"She asked you to stop tough guy" His chest was heaving and he looked like he was about to rip Jaspers throat out. He protectively stood infront of the girl, putting a barrier between Rue and her boyfriend. People were now crowding around the two boys after hearing the commotion, waiting in anticipation.

"Chris please" She silently begged for him not to. He knew what she was asking but he didnt care.

"If i wanna fuck my girlfriend i will, you dont need to be so pissed just because she wont let you fuck her Chris" Jaspers words were slurred and he could barely stand straight. Chris had a shit eating grin on his face and Rue knew it was coming before it even happened, clasping her hands together, praying for some sort of relief from a god she had no right to beg for. Not with how far she had come.

"Oh but she does" Before Rue or Jasper could even get a word in Chris sent a searing punch straight at him, his fist connecting with Jaspers jaw, sending him flying onto his back, and in no time Chris was on top of him sending hit after hit.

Rue was yelling at Chris to stop, but he couldn't even hear her. He was like a man posessed, Relentless with his hits. Matt and Nick appeared from the living room after hearing all the comotion, but all they could see was her face. The look of pure horror so evident, they knew it was Chris and Jasper. Matt made his way through the crowd and pulled Chris off of Jasper. His nuckles were bloody and he stood there panting, looking down at his bloody handywork lying on the floor. Jasper was bleeding from everywhere. Rue stood speechless, her wide eyes jumping between the two boys, waiting for Chris to say or do anthing. At this point the tears were full force running down her face. Chris turned to her and his face softened at the sight of her weeping, it was like something had changed in his eyes but she couldnt figure out what.

"Rue..." It was like he was the only person in the room. How could he do this? How could he embaress her like this? His hand reached out to touch her arm but she pulled away from him and pushed past him, making sure to shove his shoulder with her own on the way out the front door.

"Victoria!" She heard someone yell after her and she was sure it was Matt, but she was too focused on getting as far away from Chris as she could.

She was so angry she felt sick. Chris had no right to do that. He had no right to interfere with her relationship like that. She wanted to wring his neck. She wanted to tell the whole world just how terrible he was, like he had just done to her.

What he didn’t understand was that she had the information to ruin his relationship and possibly his life. He embarrassed her and carved his name into her back, and she had a golden opportunity to destroy everything on a nuclear scale. Why wouldn’t she use it? The truth was she knew there were two ways to end a war. Going nuclear or just simply walking away. She wouldn’t gain anything by shooting him down or drawing a knife straight through the heart of his ego. It didn’t make her life any better. And this hit for hit thing they've had going on these past few months, was lasting a little too long for Rues liking.

nothing better than seeing a man w bloody knuckles 😛😛😛😛😛😛

@christinarowie332 @sturniolostvrs @kitaysworld @urmyslxt @biimpanicking @soursturniolo @sturnphilia @cupidtoast @lividnity @sukiwaterhousestan @freshlovehacker @deatthmatch @fandomhopped

[solshifts]

hii!!

ive been struggling with getting motivated to shift recently (i havent shifted yet). Do u have any tips on getting motivated/better believing in shifting?

have a good day <3

So sorry I didn't answer this soon bby, I've been soo busy with school since this is the last month!!! I do actually have some tips being in the community for about 4-5 years now and I'd be happy to share them!! ✩°🌊⋆⸜ 🎧✮For believing in shifting: I know this can be tricky for some people but, I was actually able to change my mindset abt this, though it did take a while!! I looked at everyone else who had shifted because I know that shifting had been around even before tiktok, there are some moments where I go "well.. maybe theyre lying" okay but... are thousands and thousands of people lying about it? I think not. And every day I just express how grateful I am that I am able to do this incredible thing that we have the power to do! Remember: SHIFTING FOUND YOU. ˙ ✩°˖🫐 ⋆｡˚꩜How to stay motivated: REMEMBER WHY YOU STARTED SHIFTING!! Was it for love? Was it for friends? Was it to meet your favorite celebrities? Was it to see a passed relative or passed pet? Was it to enjoy happiness and adventure? Think about allll the memories youre going to make in your DR!! REMEMBER these are real people so you're going to be making REAL MEMORIESS and feel REAL emotions!!! Especially with all the people you love!! Hope this helps love, and if not, I have more tips. Happy shifting! ⋆.˚🦋ᝰ.ᐟ

[roxalicious]

Do you have any more yuri recs?

sure, here's a few

love thy neighbor: about 24 year old uni student pah doyeon and her 40 year old housewife neighbor jin joo. jin joo's husband left her alone as he works to pay off his debts, and it has Not been a fun few months for her, as the loan sharks after him have been terrorizing her daily. luckily, pah doyeon is there to lend a hand and shelter!

probably my biggest recommendation as of right now, so long as you don't mind the very much not healthy nature of the whole situation. this baby's got everything in it: blasphemy, cheating, milf-hunting, obsession, self-discovery through lust, and so on. pah doyeon is great. there's a lot wrong with her. she said this shit unprompted in the latest chapter

a love yet to bloom: a sweet story about takamine, who has yet to find anything in life she enjoys, and sakura, a book-loving girl she happens to meet on the train after school. it's very cute and has a nice, chill atmosphere. i always look forward to the next update

otome no teikoku: ok so. heres the thing. if you decide to pick this up the first, idk, dozen chapters will be Bad. there's a lot of male-gazey uncomfortable stuff at the beginning, and while it doesnt take too long for it to stop feeling so offputting and start being surprisingly wholesome and earnest instead, it never stops being horny, so read it if youre in the mood for that.

as for what it's actually about... well there's this all girls school, right? and it has girls in it. and they are all gay and dating each other. its basically just a collection of short chapters about different couples within this school, and it has some of my favorite dynamics and moments in yuri. i reread it very often (and there's almost 300 chapters of this thing out, so that's a feat) and it never stops being enjoyable. stan nononon/yumimi

a monster wants to eat me: about hinako, who lost her whole family to the sea in a tragic accident and now yearns to join them in the afterlife, and shiori, a mermaid claiming she's here to eat her. the problem is, hinako being actively suicidal and depressed means her flesh won't exactly be very tasty, and shiori is a bit of a gourmet, meaning her goal is to first help her recover and regain her joie de vivre, and only then will she eat her. i highly recommend this

out of the blue!: transfer honor student x delinquent yuri. it's very short so i dont wanna yap about it too much, but it's a big big personal fave. it's only 4 chapters so check it out

sougou tovarisch: honestly anything by arata iri never fails to get at least one laugh out of me, but this one especially. if you know a kiss and a white lily by canno (and if you don't, go check it out), the premise to this one is a bit similar to the dynamic between ayaka and yurine, with hardworking MC obsessed with being number one and chill love interest who beats her without even meaning to.

the focus here is less on romance and more on comedy, and i love it. kanna is amazing. she wins a chess match by punching her opponent so hard she passes out. its only 13 chapters + assorted extras, very fun easy read

now some stuff that doesnt really have yuri as focus but ive really enjoyed regardless and want to shout out and this is my blog so whatever

liar satsuki can see death: satsuki can see dead people. specifically, she can see the future corpses of people up to 24 hours before they actually die. she always zealously warns the future victims of the imminent danger, and she has been branded a weirdo and a liar for it as no one has ever actually died before. in truth, she is actually literally incapable of lying, and the only reason everyone survived so far is that she will go to frankly insane lengths to save them. she's a great protagonist and her autistic swag has captivated me and many others

mieruko-chan: miko can see... Things. that no one else can. but she has to pretend she cant, especially to the Things themselves. she doesnt know exactly what will happen if they realize she can see them, but she's certainly not about to find out.

this started as a twitter short that quickly gained popularity, so the premise of many early chapters is basically "miko sees something terrifying and has to ignore it, hilarity ensues", but the initially one-off characters introduced over time are eventually explored and given quite a lot of spotlight and im having a lot of fun with it. stan michiru

there's always more but here's what ive got so far- wait. read shuukura. ive talked about it before it's in my pinned please read shuukura i love those weirdos to an insane degree

[feliosfarkus]

“Hi, how can I help you?”

The man looks like he’s going to the red carpet, not some coffee shop on the bad side of town.

“I'd like a triple shot macchiato with black current syrup in a black mug.”

“I’m not sure we have black current syrup, I’ll look in the back!” I say, lying through my fucking teeth. I’m a new hire, but I memorized the inventory of this place fast. We don’t have black current syrup, we never have. I just head to the back to take a quick 5 minute break, but on the way there I bump into my boss.

“Hey Andrew” she says, out of breath, “what you doing back here?” I’ve learnt through many, many, many attempts that she sees through even the best lies, so honesty is the best policy with her.

“A customer ordered a macchiato with black current syrup, we don’t have any so Im just taking a little break.” As soon as I said the words black current, she stiffened up, scared almost.

“What was the full order?” she says with an unnervingly large amount of authority.

“Tripple shot macchiato with black current syrup, which honestly sounds disgustingly sw-“

“What color mug did he want?” she asks, staring at the man with apprehension.

“He wanted a black cup, how did you know he asked for a specific color mug?”

Sighing, she says “Go take a break, I’ll take this order.” And because Ive been standing for the last 4 hours, I head to the breakroom and flop down on the couch. Social media keeps me entertained for a bit, but my mind starts wandering.

How has this place not been robbed? We’re right in the center of the worst part of the city, and the places across the street get hit at least twice a month. I’ve been here 3 months, no-one has so much as brandished a gun in here. But also, everyone is clearly armed. They hide their pistols and submachine guns well, but something always gives it away. And the people who come in, we got people like Mr. Sweet-tooth back there, wearing a suit thats probably worth 3 months of my rent, but then we have homeless people right behind him, and everyone in between, all armed to the teeth, all looking over their shoulder. And half the people who come in don’t even order, just exchange manilla envelopes and a few words. This place has got to be a front for something, but what?

My boss raps her knuckles against the doorframe of the breakroom, startling me back to reality. “I took care of his order, never had a black mug order before.”

“Ok, what the hell does that mean? what the hell is this place? Why am I the only employee?” I ask, tone more harsh than intended.

Before I get the chance to apologize, she holds up her hand, and keeps it there for an agonizingly long time. Finally, she breaks the silence. “You’re right, its time you learnt what this place is. Follow me.”

She leads me to the basement, door locked with a lock i’ve tried to pick but it never worked. She slides a keycard into a crack in the exposed brick and I hear something unlatch.

She opens the door, letting me in. I’d tell you more, but then I’d have to kill you. Us assassins love our secrets.

A regular and oblivious person works at a coffee shop not knowing its a place of ceasefire for assassins and mercenaries.

[my-lunaberg]

Ive accidentally reached the post limit so Ive basically been doing my liveblog in my notes app, i wrote all of this while watching the February 4th 2022 vod

Oughhhhhhhh the way Sams literally begging

Oh the "present" is gonna be a clock isnt it

Oh nvm its a cake, which is just. so evil man, cakes have terrible saturation but Sam doesnt have anything else so ofc hes gonna be grateful even though its shit

Actually, now that I think about it, I think I was definitely wrong about Dreams manipulation tactics changing with his goals. Like, i still dont think he wants to work with Sam or be 'friends' with him like with Tommy during the exile arc, but he is still doing the thing of breaking people down and then building them up with a fascimile of kindness so that theyll listen to him

Im assuming the time passed irl is the same as the time passed in-universe which means that Sam has been alone in the prison for 4 days but Dream is a lying motherfucker whos telling him that its only been one day

Okay now hes saying its been 2 days but hes still lying

HE DID GET HIM A CLOCK IM GONNA LOSE IT

Okay he wants to compare hkmself and Sam, Im very curious bc this will hopefully grant us some insight into how Dream like, actually percieves himself and his actions

Okay, two things:

1. Dream being like "[the evil bunker full of everyones sentimental items] was just theater" has some serious Wilbur vibes ngl

2. Dream is sooooooo obsessed with Tommy istg

Dream is asking Sam what bad things hes done aside from manipulate Tommy and be dramatic and Sam is like "uhhhhh idk tbh......" as though Dream isnt the guy responsible for Lmanberg blowing up thrice

Sam is basically asking Dream if the things Dream did were wrong/bad and its like, you cant do that, you cant cushion your opinions on someones bad action in this kind of insecurity, especially if youre talking to someone known to be manipulative!!

Ouhhghhh the way Dream can basically make up anything he wants about Tommys time in exile because barely anyone, but esepcially not Sam, visited him

"How was it my fault that Tommy was exiled" I dont even have anything to say, Im just kinda enamoured by the realization of how little people other than Tommy and maybe Wilbur actually know about the exile

Dream just mentioned the Egg and 1. I had already basically completely forgotten about that and 2. The timeline of Drea involvement with the Egg is like, he briefly checked on it back when everything was still kinda kicking of, didnt worry about it for weeks or even months and then he was in jail for a year and he basically completely missed all of the Egg Lore like damn, I hope Punz properly explained all that bullshit to him lol

God, Im projecting so hard rn but Dream weaponizing his own genuine suffering in order get what he wants which also shields him from having to confront the ways it was made him suffer and how it actually affected him is so relatable

Ive been spoiled so I know theyre gonna try and make c!Dream more sympathetic later on and i know a lot of people really hate that and honestly, I think a lot of it comes down to the fact that he didnt get his own POV/only got it very late which gives people less opportunity to sympathize or empathize with him and also really dehumanizes him. Idk this is kinda complex and I'll probably make a seperate post about it

Im going to lose my mind, Dreams monologue about how everyone is the hero in their own story and a villain in many others literally sounds like a thesis statement, like if the Dream SMP had a kids show-esque "message" like so many people inexplicably want it to, it would be this more than literally anything else

OHHHHHHHH the double meaning of Dream telling Sam that he built the prison for him. mwah, perfection

"Dream said he wouldnt lock anyone up in the prison" WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU CAN TRUST HIM

Ooooooooooo Sam grouping himself in with Dream..........

HES TAKING SAM OUT OF THE PRISON

Hes giving Dream full access to the prison theres no way this could possibly go well

Sam as the users manual for the prison vs Dream as the revival book...........

👁👁 HES KILLING SAM??

SAMS DEAD VOD OVER

[snom0001inu]

Now that it's calm........

A lot went down and I want to apologize to everyone because that was not the intention whatsoever. I have not made commentary because I did not want to fuel the fire, nor was it my intention for others to become involved.

Let me make this very clear.

I AM NOT DOXXING ANYONE NOR AM I BITTER ABOUT BEING BLOCKED.

STAR'S CLAIMS ARE FALSE AND SHE IS PURPOSELY PAINTING ME AND MY FRIENDS AS VILLAINS BECAUSE SHE DOES NOT WANT TO BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR HER ACTIONS. THIS IS A PATTERN SHE CONSTANTLY HAS AND PREVIOUS PEOPLE SHE HAS KNOWN HAVE COME FORWARD SAYING THE EXACT SAME THING ABOUT HER, SHE'S KNOWN TO CONSISTENTLY PLATFORM HOP TO AVOID ACCOUNTABILITY.

I blocked Starlatte first on Tumblr and then on Discord because she repeatedly crossed boundaries and as an adult, I felt the need to draw the line of communication there. The claims that I'm retaliating for being blocked are false and just straight petty.

The post I made was just to warn others and Star was never named in the post. SHE chose to publish Cherry's ask to publicize what was happening even after Cherry asked her to keep it private for her own safety.

I genuinely worry about Star, but she does not want to be helped, she wants to be enabled and a victim. I was civil with her, I really was. But I never claimed to be her best friend or ever said I would denounce the people she hates so much. When she first approached me about what-the-hazbin, I told her to prioritize her own mental health over my blog. She insisted she could handle it but still unfollowed me. I never took any negative interaction personally because she's a minor and I'm the adult.

Also, I am not affiliated with the people she pissed off earlier in the week due to her ignorance on the sex worker community. That's their beef and the fact that 2 different groups (fans and criticals) are saying the same things about her should be pretty telling.

(Readmore for more info but tbh, I don't like super long posts so I'm just going to ask that you DM me if you need me to clarify more)

Just.....take it from an adult who's already tried to deal with her nicely, do not personally interact with Star. She has an extreme parasocial relationship with Vivienne Medrano and just cannot keep being enabled by newcomers. We could've just blocked each other and left it at that but she always needs to be the victim and stir up drama, this is your warning sign if you've ever been hesitant about your interactions with her.

And yes, I still believe she is lying about her age. As I stated in my original post, someone already reported her blog under "harmful to minors". Again, if Star didn't blow this up as much as she did, nobody would know her dirty laundry. Tumblr isn't known for the best tech support, we all know this.

I believe she's lying about her age because she keeps miscalculating and claiming different ages. I know she's shown her "proof" but she's conveniently leaving out the part where she claims she was 12 in 2014 (meaning she's 19 turning 20). She also keeps switching between it being Autism that forced her to make the mistake in numbers, that her phone forced it, that her laptop forced it, that it's because Tumblr doesn't have autocorrect. It's a new lie for her everytime and she needs to stop being so harmful to herself and others. If doxxing was my intention, I would've done it without her consent. I wouldn't have allowed Cherry to reach out to her. Because yes, Cherry asked me if she could and I said it was fine but not to expect much since Star does not want help. If I wanted to doxx her, I could've done it a long time ago because she's always posting too much personal information without any prompting. She's been approached about this before and is hostile to anyone who points this out with an excuse that she's a minor, has Autism, is a POC, etc etc

I know Star's patterns and know for a fact she's been making posts about me after blocking me herself. I know this because again, I've seen her do it multiple times to other people. I took this chance when I blocked her and knew she'd throw a fit as soon as she saw that I was still civil with the people she wants everyone to hate. Which again, she wasn't supposed to see in the first place due to being blocked.

Feel free to verify the information about me yourself, I'm really sorry everyone that got involved had to be in the first place. But I promise you, Star is not a victim of abuse from her former friends. She's the main one with the abusive and manipulative behavior with the idea that she can control people and Vivienne Medrano.

Original "call out" post (April 21st, 2021): https://siaesnow.tumblr.com/post/649085106252890112/this-is-serious-yall-someone-ive-been

My archive for the month of April 2021 : https://siaesnow.tumblr.com/archive/2021/4

[slytherinbarnes]

Seasons Change [4]

iv. i will wait for you (as the leaves fall to the ground)

pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: a little angst.

summary: despite running, the fallout from rome eventually catches up with you.

a/n: alright, that’s it!!! this is a wrap on this miniseries! please let me know what you think, I hope you enjoyed this series!

previous chapter // series masterlist // full masterlist

September 22, New York City.

The first phone call comes the day after you leave Rome, while you’re strapped into a Quinjet and heading to Siberia. 

You know it’s Steve, because so few people have your number for your phone, and when the call comes in you put your phone on silent and slide it into your bag, not ready to confront the reality of what you discovered while playing pretend with Steve in Rome.

You’re falling in love with him. 

When you initially proposed the friends with benefits arrangement, you thought there was no way you’d be the first to break the agreement and get attached. You’ve always been good at avoiding connections with others, and you thought Steve would be no exception. It seems as though you underestimated the pull of his personality though. He’s magnetic, and you can’t help but want to be around him. 

And maybe he feels the same, you did see his drawings of you, but maybe those mean nothing, and admitting to your feelings will just have you making a fool of yourself. You don’t want to be the first to admit that you failed, that you broke the agreement, so you decide to run from your problems instead, the way you always have, burying yourself in work and using it as an excuse to avoid reality. 

-

Steve calls again when you’re in Mozambique.

And Paris.

And Florida.

And Brazil.

But after a while, he stops calling. And the realization is heartbreaking.

-

In September, Fury says no more. Even he can tell you’re getting run down and clearly using work as an excuse to run from your personal life. 

He puts you on a mandatory month long break, and after that he promises that your missions for the rest of the year will be stateside, giving you time to get your life together, giving you time to slow down and stop running. 

When you land in New York, you realize that you missed the city more than you realized. The first thing you do is call your parents and tell them about your break, promising to visit them as soon as you get settled in. You hear an excitement in your mother's voice that you haven’t heard in years, and you realize now it’s been a while since you’ve been home, your longest time away yet, and maybe now, it’s time for you to stop running from everything. 

No more running from your parents, or your trauma, or the memories of your brother. It’s time for you to sit down and figure everything out, time for you to visit your parents and talk about your brother and what his loss has meant to you, done to you. Time for you to admit your feelings to yourself, and to Steve, even if it ruins things between you.

Of course, that’s easier said than done.

Instead of heading to the Avengers Compound and staying in the room you have there, you go to your apartment instead, the one you just can’t seem to let go of. It's the first place you moved to when you got to the city, and it’s rent controlled, which makes it even harder to give up. You’re not here much anymore, but strangely, it’s still home to you. 

More importantly, you have no chance of running into Steve here. 

-

You spend the first week home catching up on any remaining paperwork and reading the same three books on your barren bookcase. On day 9, you switch on the TV, only to switch it off again within minutes, too overwhelmed with the choices of what to watch. Instead, you dig out an old puzzle, one of the few belongings in your apartment, and you spend two days piecing it together, listening to music as you work. On day 12, you wander to the fridge for a snack, only to pull the door open and find the shelves empty, wiped clean of the food you bought when you first arrived back home. 

Sighing, you head to your room and pull on some pants and shoes, deciding a quick grocery trip will help to kill some time. You walk to one of the markets nearby, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the walls of the buildings lining the street, and a crisp breeze blows around you, promising an approach of fall. 

When you reach the store, you grab a basket, looping your arm through it as you wander through the aisles, grabbing anything that sounds appealing to you. Wandering through a store without a list, and while hungry, is dangerous, and soon your basket is full of snacks and no meals. Making a deal with yourself, you decide the snacks can stay as long as you get a few other things to go along with it. Heading towards the produce, you grab a few things for salads and sandwiches, before deciding a head of lettuce should round out your basket and complete your trip. 

As you reach for one of the heads of lettuce, another hand closes on top of yours, you and someone else reaching for the vegetable at the same time. You lift it and turn, intending to offer the head to the other person and grab a different one for yourself, only to drop it when you turn and lock eyes with Steve. His brows shoot up when he locks eyes with you, clearly surprised to see you in New York, and you send a silent curse to the Universe for making you do this now. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Steve smiles a little, the air between you tense and awkward. “When did you get home?”

“Uh… two weeks ago.”

His brows shoot up again, and he mutters, “Really?” You swear you hear disappointment in his voice, and it makes guilt flood your system. “Wow, that’s great.”

“Yeah.”

The air is thick with tension, and you squirm, aware that both of you now know that you’re avoiding him, no longer able to use work as an excuse. Steve shakes his head a little, turning to sit his basket on the ground, deciding to jump head first into the conversation. “I thought things were good after Rome.”

“They were!”

“Then why have you been avoiding me? You just up and left Rome, no note or anything, and you haven’t answered any of my calls.”

“I was-” You cut yourself off, about to use work as an excuse again, and you remember your earlier conversation to yourself. No more running. “I think I’ve been lying to myself.”

Steve shakes his head, not understanding. “What do you mean?”

Someone brushes past you to grab a bundle of carrots, and you almost laugh at the situation; confessing your feelings in a grocery store, after spending nearly two weeks straight locked up in your apartment, avoiding everyone. “I have feelings for you.”

Steve looks surprised again, and you hear him suck in a sharp breath, so you barrel on, wanting to get the confession out before he stops you. “And I know I shouldn’t say that because of our arrangement, but I feel like I should tell you because I promised myself I would stop running from everything.”

“What about work? We’re both always so busy, and-”

“I’m not.”

“What?”

“I’m not too busy, I mean. At least, not for the next few months. I spent 9 months away from home this year, and Fury decided to ground me for a few months and only take missions stateside, at least through the end of the year. I have a few things to take care of with my parents, but other than that, I’m free.”

Steve nods once, but says nothing, his eyes watching you closely. You want to squirm beneath his gaze, waiting with bated breath as he looks at you, but you force yourself to stand tall and wait for the rejection. “I’ve been thinking about stepping back more, letting Bucky and Sam have more responsibility.”

“So what are you saying?”

“No more running.” Steve steps forward, both of his hands reaching out and grabbing you, pulling you towards him quickly and crashing his lips to yours. You drop your basket, hearing it clatter by your feet as you reach out and grab Steve, pulling him close to you. You lose yourself in the kiss, realizing now how much you missed this, and Steve seems to feel the same, because he lets out a soft sigh before he pulls away and whispers, “I have feelings for you too, and I want to do this if you do.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

You look around, awkwardly realizing that you’ve confessed your love and drawn the eyes of other shoppers while standing in front of the lettuce. You reach down and grab your discarded basket, standing up straight again and looking at Steve. “So, what now?”

“Well, I heard you have a thing for cinnamon rolls, and I just so happen to know the perfect place to get some. All you have to do is say yes.”

Without hesitating, you reply, “Yes.”

-

[robinrequiems]

Hello! I hope I’m not bothering you or anything but I really love your scenarios and headcanons, and I was wondering if it’s possible that you could write a sequel to the Jondami “right person at the wrong time”? Hopefully about how Jon realizing he’s in love with Damian and completely distraught over not finding him. Thank you!

NONO YOURE NOT BOTHERING NE!! THANKS FOR THE ASK, IVE BEEN WAITING 4 SOME1 TO ASK THIS

• jon returned back from the future two months after damian wrote the letter

• jon had given it to him when true to damians words, jon came looking for the boy

• jon was heartbroken by it, he was angry, and confused.

• jon always looked up to damian ( metaphorically ) when he was younger, finding out damian liked him hit him hard. he didn’t know how to feel about that

• he knew rhe feelings he had for Damian lingered hard, damian was one of the reasons he kept surviving the hell hole he was in for the last few years. everything damian taught him helped him continue living. jon remembered just blushing whenever damian gave him an ounce of attention when he was younger

• jon felt weird

• damian didn’t want to be found. so jon didn’t go and try to find him. yet anyways. jon needed to figure out all of his emotions

• dick asked if he was okay, jon just lied and said yeah. another thing he learned from damian was lying about your emotions

• jon was hurting si bad, he was in love with damian

• and he couldn’t even find him

• 3 years past, damian 18, jon 20, they meet again

• damian knew he was still in somewhat love now with Jon. he tried running from his emotions and that got him no where

• jon.. realized he still liked damian a lot, everyone did. jon always brought damain up somehow, always asked where he was, spent so many nights trying to find him

• the fucking irony is that jon needs him again when Damian was coming home from his long adventure on Christmas

Damian: hey bitches, I’m your Christmas present—

Jon: Damian?

Damian: oh. hello.

Bruce: son

Damian: richard, you didn’t say he’d be here

• he being jon or bruce, dick does not know, so he just shrugged awkwardly and sent a smile towards bruce and jon

• jon and the other supers were invited to wayne family Christmas, that was the year damian decided to make his magnificent return

Alfred: master Damian, watch your language!

Damian: sorry

• jon, admittedly, was checking damian out. jon really needs to stop staring at Damian. Damian, admitting, was staring at jon when Jon wasn’t looking at Damian

• but Damian didn’t know jon was checking him out because he was too busy checking jon out

• everyone knew this was happening too

Dick: go talk to him

Damian: no.

• no way was he talking to him, he may have wanted the attention fkr a minute, but he doesn’t want it anymore. he knew that if he spoke to jon, someone would make a big deal of it

Dick: you can’t run from it anymore, dames, you ran from him for three years, this is dramatic, even for you

Damian: says the one who ran away from gotham, how many times was it?

Dick: Damian.

Damian: tt

• damian never said he matured, ok. he was still.. an angry 11 year old who used anger and a front for his long lift of insecurities

• but then damian tried disappearing again

• jon didn’t let it happen this time though

• he’s not losing damian again. okay? not again.

Jon: D.

Damian: jon

Jon: can we talk?

Damian: i don’t think i have much of a choice, so sure

Jon: you’re right.

• as jon aged, he learned persistence and to not let himself be walked over. Damian used to do that to him. But jons grown. Physically and metaphorically.

Jon: I missed you.

Damian: oh. I missed you too, i guess.

Jon: so that’s damian for ‘I missed you a lot’

Jon: are you.. are you staying? Is your weird mini mission all over

Damian: yeah. I fixed everything for the most part

Jon: I missed you

Damian: you said

Jon: so much. and it’s not fair that you just left mind blowing information in a matter and then go fuck off to rao knows where!

Damian: language

Jon: no. why did you run! did you seriously try to run away from your problems?

Damian: no.. no I didn’t.

Jon: than why did you go

Damian: i don’t know- I don’t know.. I just.. I don’t know

Jon: you ran away instead of talking to me, d

Jon: why didn’t you talk to me?

Damian: I didn’t know how to, in case you haven’t noticed

Jon: yeah I noticed.. I really like you, Damian

• jon knew how to talk about his emotions, and he had a feeling ( or hoped, he was Superman’s son afterall.. ) that Damian liked him back

• jon was also listening to damians heartbeat, he hasn’t been able to hear it in a long time. he loved his heartbeat, it was soothing and nice, it made jon feel at peace, it made him feel like he was 10 again

Damian: oh

Jon: what do you have to say about that? don’t try to run it either, I will chase you

Damian: i.. quit staring at me, it’s harder to talk about shitty feelings when people stare

Damian: I think. I like you too.

Jon: really?

Damian: I think so

L• damian knew he liked him, but Damian was also not going to voice his feelings. jon just laughed when Damian said that and hugged Damian. he knew Damian liked him, by that letter and the fact Damian was real red

• but yk. he won’t force anything out of Damian anymore.

• they didn’t know what they were to each other now. but that’s okay. because they had each other again

• so for right jow, in the cold ass winter, they were okay since Damian was back, now they can worn through their problems and all that other fun shit

[casey-v]

Valentine

Ethan x Casey

I haven’t written any fics for quite a while, but with OH3 coming soon I’m getting these vibes again….

I always wondered: what would the closing of Edenbrook mean to E x MC’s relationship? Here’s my attempt to this part of the story.

Sorry in advance for any mistakes, English isn’t my first language.

Warnings: none, I guess (maybe a few smutty thoughts)

Words: 3K

Disclaimer: all characters owned by PB

Participating in @choicesfebchallenge Day14: Valentine

“Good morning Dr. Valentine. This is your day today, isn’t it?” The nurse Rose greeted Casey as she entered the free clinic.

“Good morning. Yeah, I get that a lot.” Casey tried a friendly smile. Since she had been a child everyone referred to her last name on Valentine’s Day, making a remark or joking around. As a teenager it had made her feel special, but by now she was tired of hearing it. Especially today.

She had been in a bad mood since she woke up and it had nothing to do with her last name or Rose. But it had everything to do with the man who simply ignored this day today, probably didn’t even know it existed. 

It was perfectly clear to Casey, that these kinds of traditions meant nothing to Ethan. Nevertheless, her disappointment was huge because she had had great expectations for today. After a few difficult weeks she had hoped that a romantic dinner could bring them closer together again.

After the gala and their public kiss everything had seemed perfect and she had spent some time on cloud number nine. But then Ethan gradually became distant and a little grumpy again. They both often worked double shifts and meetings outside the hospital became rare. And they never talked about their life after Edenbrook’s closing. Whenever they got close to that topic, Ethan would change the subject. And Casey was also in denial; she hadn’t applied to any jobs outside greater Boston because she didn’t want to lose Ethan. But maybe it was too late now anyway, she didn’t even know what point in their relationship they really were at.            

“Has he told you yet?” Sienna interrupted her thoughts.

“Hi Sienna. No, I still have no idea what we’re doing tonight.”

“Oh, that’s so romantic. For sure he has something incredibly special planned for the two of you.”

Casey tried to maintain a cheerful façade even though she actually felt like crying. But Sienna’s enthusiasm was also kind of sweet, so she managed a smile.

“You seem more excited than I am.”

“I’m hosting a lonely-hearts roomie dinner tonight, so at least let me enjoy the romance in your life.”

Casey felt bad that she was being dishonest with her friend. It was silly, but she would rather spend the night at the movies on her own and then sleep in an on-call room than admit to her friend that Ethan wasn’t going to take her out on a date. Besides, talking about it would make it more real: their relationship was probably on the rocks.

 A busy morning at the clinic kept Casey occupied and gave her no opportunity to dwell on her misery. As she was preparing an IV for a patient, she suddenly sensed someone right behind her.

“Dr. Valentine, can you please run some tests on this patient and then get back to me as soon as possible?”

Usually her favorite baritone voice quickened her heartbeat, but today it sounded businesslike and not appealing at all. When she turned around Ethan didn't meet her gaze. Instead, he just thrust a patient chart into her hand and was gone before Casey even had the chance to respond.

 At first, she stood there with her mouth open, unable to move, a dreadful feeling spreading through her chest. She had barely seen him all week and that was all she got?

When her vision started to get blurred by tears, she quickly ran to a supply closet, locked the door and sank to the floor.

 What now? She couldn’t decide whether she was more sad or mad. How could it be, that things went wrong so fast after everything they had been through together? And how dare he talk to her like a random intern, shoving that patient file into her hands so rudely. He wasn't even her boss anymore.

She still held the chart clutched to her chest and now wanted to check what seemed so urgent. But what she saw didn't make any sense. There was only a last name on it and an address, but everything else was blank. As she turned the page her heart took a leap. She wiped away a few tears and stared at the blank piece of paper. Two words stared back at her.

Dinner tonight?

When she finally remembered to breathe again, she flipped back to the first page and now the pieces were falling into place.

Sorellina, Huntington Ave.

She knew the name had sounded familiar. “Sorellina” wasn't a patient's name; it was the name of a fancy Italian restaurant in the Back Bay. To be sure she pulled out her phone and searched the internet. And what she found there brought a bright smile to her face.

 …the ultimate destination if you're looking to really impress a date…

.. one of the most romantic spots in the city…

…awesome place for date nights…

 So he didn’t forget after all! But why the strange behavior? Some things didn’t add up. You don’t get a reservation like this one day in advance. He must have planned this weeks ago. A lot had changed since and now maybe he just wanted to give them one last shot? He wouldn’t be so heartless to dump her on Valentine’s day, would he?

Casey was totally confused. Was she just misinterpreting the whole situation? But she couldn’t be that paranoid. Something was brewing and she was determined to find out tonight, no matter what. This time she would confront him and for once she wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily.

But first she had to get through the day somehow, and she had to head home during her lunchbreak to choose a breathtaking dress. And pack an overnight bag, just in case. Not to forget the special brand of scotch she had ordered for Ethan. And she had to tell Sienna. And…

Okay! First of all, she had to calm down and concentrate on her work. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she took a pen out of her pocket and wrote below Ethan’s message.

Tell me when and where and I’ll be there 💕

After leaving the supply closet she randomly grabbed two other files, placed hers in between and handed them to an intern. “Please get this to Dr. Ramsey immediately.” Then she went back to her patient, who was still waiting for his IV.

The day seemed to drag on endlessly. In the afternoon she found the piece of paper out of the fake patient file in her coat pocket.  

Dinner tonight?

Tell me when and where and I’ll be there 💕

my office, 7 pm 😊

 He had even drawn an emoji! Smiling she added one more line.

Dessert at your place?

Then she quickly ran upstairs, sneaked into Ethan’s office, and put the piece of paper onto his desk. Her eyes fell on the big clock on the wall: 4 pm! Three more hours to go.

 *******

Ethan sat behind his desk, already dressed in his tux, trying to focus on some files. But instead of working, he kept repeating in his head what he wanted to say tonight.

It was ridiculous. Usually, he gave speeches in front of hundreds of fellow doctors and here he was, being nervous about talking to one single woman. The difference was that he felt very qualified to talk about his profession, but he was totally insecure when it came to talking about his feelings. With Casey, he wasn't Dr. Ramsey, a famous and respected diagnostician; with her, he was simply Ethan, a man struggling with the changes in his life.

The sound of high heels echoed through the hallway and announced Casey's arrival. Trying to calm his nerves Ethan busied himself with his paperwork as she entered the office. He didn't raise his head, instead he just glanced at her over the rims of his glasses. As he did, she put her hands on her hips, pushing the winter coat aside to give him full view of her stunning dress. And it had the desired effect. The small piece of black nothingness took his breath away.

 “Dr. Ramsey, don't you think it's inappropriate to look at a colleague that way?”

He swallowed hard, but he wouldn’t let her tease him like that.

“Dr. Valentine, don't you think it's inappropriate to wear something like that in your workplace?”

She smirked at him.

“Not as much as taking it off right here in your office.”

Defeated he shook his head, a smile showing at the corners of his mouth. He had to fight the urge to leap over his desk and take her right there against the office door, but instead he only sighed deeply and reached for his coat. This had to wait.

“We better get going or I don't know what I'll do!”

Together they left the office and walked to his car, holding hands. But despite their little banter just now there was an odd silence between them.

*******

The restaurant really was the perfect setting for a special date. Casey was overwhelmed and also kind of intimidated by the atmosphere. To her, it felt more like a first date with a guy she had a crush on than a dinner with the man she had been dating for month. And Ethan seemed equally self-conscious. But after some champagne, they both loosened up and had a really great time.

Almost.

Casey knew Ethan too well by now not to notice that something was strange about him tonight. She couldn’t shake that nagging feeling in her gut.

Back in his apartment, after she had given him her gift, he sat down on the couch with a serious face and asked her to sit down as well.

“I have something for you, too”

Blushing slightly, he handed her a small box and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I wanted to…, I mean this is… Oh, just open it and then I’ll explain!”

Carefully, she lifted the lid of the box and saw, lying on a tiny silk cushion, a key. From the looks of it, she assumed it was the key to his apartment. Casey gave Ethan a questioning look and waited for the promised explanation. But it didn’t come. Ethan seemed uncomfortable and pinched the bridge of his nose. Finally, he just blurted it out.

“Want to move in with me?”

Of all the things she had expected him to say, this certainly wasn’t on the list. But why now? Hundreds of different thoughts whirled through Casey’s head all at once. At first she just stared at him, then she burst into tears. For a long time Ethan looked at her helplessly, finally he ran a hand through his hair in frustration and murmured: “Obviously not.”

At that, Casey’s head snapped up. “No, no, no! I do, of course I do!” She wiped some tears from her face and explained between occasional sobs.

“The thing is: Whenever I imagined moving in with you, I got sad about not living with my friends anymore. And now I’ve just realized it doesn’t matter because in a couple of weeks they’ll all be gone anyway, scattered across the country. I’m going to miss them so much. And since I don’t know where I am going to be, there’s no point in moving in with you either.”

She shook her head, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess, it just seems that everything is falling apart. This morning I wasn’t even sure whether you want to break up with me or not and I thought that…”

“Whoa, hold it right there. What on earth are you talking about?”

From Ethan’s shocked expression Casey could tell that it had obviously never occurred to him to break up. Slightly embarrassed she continued in an unsteady voice.

“I mean, the way you’ve been acting lately, especially this morning, you’ve been so rude….”

Ethan gently caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, wiped away her tears, and sighed.

“Oh Casey, I’m so sorry. But you know me; you know that I hate talking in front of patients. And I had a lot on my mind; I’ve been nervous all day about our date.”

He smiled shyly and shook his head. Then his gaze darkened again, guilt clearly written on his face. His brows furrowed, and he backed away a little.

“Although you’re right that I’ve been putting some distance between us lately. But I needed clarity about the whole job situation. And us. All my life I’ve planned everything three steps ahead and then suddenly it felt like I was losing control. I know I can’t ask you to stay because you have to finish your residency at one of the best hospitals in the country. Thus, I have tortured myself to figure out how we can make things work and I’ve been miserable all this time. Until I realized the answer is fairly simple.”

Casey couldn’t believe that they had both been so distraught for weeks, and instead of sharing and confiding in each other, they were just brooding over the challenges ahead, each to their own. Slowly, the uneasy feeling inside her stomach began to dissipate, although she had no idea what he was talking about.

“What answer?”

Ethan took her hand and he gently drew circles on the back of it with his thumb, his eyes following its movement.

“Edenbrook has been my home for almost 12 years now, and if they take it away from me, what else is there? Naveen, of course, and my father nearby, but other than that ….”

All this time Casey held the box with the key in one hand. Now he took it from her and raised the key to eye level. Her gaze wandered back and forth between the key and Ethan. He cleared his throat in search of words, but they didn’t come. Her heart hammered in her chest, the tension almost unbearable. Finally, his blue eyes met hers and he found the courage to speak, his voice husky and low.

“This isn’t just the key to my apartment, Casey. This key means I want to live with you, wherever that may be.”

His last words were only a whisper. “If you’ll have me, that is.”

Casey couldn’t even begin to grasp what it all meant. She would be able to apply to any hospital in the country and Ethan would be with her. Live with her.

An overwhelming feeling of happiness spread through her body.

“You really would do this for me?”

“No, if I’m honest I’m doing this not for you but for myself. I don’t want to go back to being that grumpy cynic I once was before I met you. I’m lost without you.”

The full meaning of his words sent a prickling sensation down her spine, but she was also amused.

“Ethan, you’re one of the most famous and respected physicians, you’ve managed perfectly fine without me for 36 years.”

Ethan put down the key and the box from her hand and took both her hands, his gaze intense.

“But it’s taken me 36 years to find out what it means to be genuinely happy.”

Those last words took all her breath right out of her and her heart was ready to explode. His eyes pierced hers as he waited for a response.

He moved closer und squeezed her hands tightly, his eyes still dark.

“So, what do you say?”

She couldn’t resist the temptation to mess with him.

“Let me get this straight: You’re telling me, if I said no, there would be no one to tell you if you’re acting like a goddam diva again?”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth realizing what she was getting at. “Probably.”

Grinning she went on. “And who would be there to help you with your social media accounts?”

“Nobody.”

Ethan’s eyes began to light up as she moved onto his lap, mischief in her smile.

“And there would be no one who would dare to tease you?”

“Right.”

Their faces were now only a breath away.

“And nobody there to make you pancakes?”

“Exactly. What would become of me?”

Her mouth moved to the side of his neck. After a line of soft kisses, she started nibbling on his earlobe and whispered. “And no one, who would do this?”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not hard to find someb…”

She quickly backed away and punched his arm playfully. “Don’t you dare!”

Ethan was now gleaming all over his face. He tucked a finger under her chin and gently nudged her nose with his. “So is that a YES?”

“Do I even have a choice?”

“Not really!”

And then at last his lips found hers, first slowly, barely touching, until they both gave in and melted into each other. All the tension of the day, all the pent-up emotions of the past weeks fell off and there was only him and her. While the kisses grew more and more urgent, his hands started to roam over her body and slowly he unzipped her dress. As his warm hand gently slid down her back, Casey felt his hot breath on her ear.

“If I remember correctly, you promised me dessert.”

“We already had a selection of delicious Italian desserts.”

“But I’m still very hungry. And first of all, this dress has to go. The sight of it has been tormenting me all evening.”

*****

The bedroom was almost dark. Ethan lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He was unable to put his mind to rest after the events of the day. He turned over to watch the stunning woman sleeping next to him. The moonlight on her face made her even look more beautiful. From now on, he would have the privilege of waking up to this sight every morning. That thought alone made his heart leap.

Gently, he draped the sheets over her shoulder, brushed her hair out of her face and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek; always careful not to wake her.

Smiling down at her he whispered. “I love you, Casey Valentine.”

Never before had these words left his lips. And now didn’t even count either because she couldn’t hear them. He had tried to tell her many times, but the moment never seemed right. Today would have been the perfect occasion, but he had chickened out again.

It was absurd. They had started to plan their future together. Why was it so hard? Three simple words!

Laying back down he whispered, more to himself.

“I’m going to tell you. Soon.

Maybe tomorrow.”

----------------------------------------

Thank you if you have made it so far.

This piece has really been a challenge, it took me forever. I’ve changed it a couple of times and I am still not quite satisfied, but at some point you just have to let go.

Tagging seperately.

[artificialqueens]

Me and You Together, 4/10 (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: fam this response is crazy it really is…thank u all so much for the love, kudos and comments, i’m so sorry if i’ve not managed to reply to urs yet but know that i’ve read them all and cherish every one and i will get round to replying and yelling some love and thanks at u soon!!! pls enjoy this chapter in which A'whora does not possess the flat’s shared brain cell at any point. that being said, i wish all the readers of this fic a very pleasant italicised ‘oh’ xo

last chapter: January-Tayce and A’whora still had unfinished business from a night out and a hungover morning in December.

this chapter: October- The gang make plans for their first year together, Tia gives everyone plans for the evening, and A'whora has a realisation that will change the dynamic of her friendship with Tayce forever.

***

“Bimini, what is it you’re actually doing?”

A’whora’s intrigued by the way her flatmate’s sitting on the sofa: legs crossed, notepad in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and looking deep in thought. They’ve not long since stretched over the smoke detector with a sock, having long since established nobody in the flat minds them smoking indoors as long as the windows are open. Lawrence is beside them on the other end of the sofa having been to all the lectures that’re required of her already today and has got a bright pink, blue and purple-flecked ball of yarn hanging from two knitting needles, with which she seems to be knitting some sort of cosy accessory. It’s a wholesome picture that’s playing out in front of A’whora, one that’s miles away from the raucous, drunk nights they’ve all shared in the first month of uni so far.

“Okay, here’s what it is,” Bimini starts, clicking their long nails together. “I am making us a freshers bucket list, and I want your input.”

“Ooh!” Lawrence perks up beside them, and A’whora, interest piqued, picks up the bowl of pasta, butter and cheese she’s spent all of five minutes making and crosses the room to sit beside her flatmates.

She knows it’s only been a month so far, but she really loves everyone she’s living with. For a start, there are four of them that take classes at the art college (the ‘art hoes’, as Tayce calls them), so they all get to walk to lectures together and hang about between classes and workshops with each other depending on how their days are going. Bimini is almost always in the flat, with not a lot of contact hours making up their journalism degree, so they’re a comforting presence for A’whora to come home to at whatever hour of the day, always asking how she is and always offering to make her coffee. Tia is sweet and funny (if ever-so-slightly grating to her at first) and they’ve bonded over being the only two flatmates seemingly able to keep the place clean and tidy. Lawrence is endearing and big-hearted, if A’whora spends half her life hoping that her next prank isn’t involving her in some way (Ellie is usually the butt of them). Ellie herself is one of A’whora’s closest flatmates; they’ll often stay up half the night finishing prototypes or assignments together, all while watching a film which they have spookily similar taste in- they’ve agreed on 101 and 102 Dalmatians, Hocus Pocus, and The Wizard of Oz so far.

And then there’s Tayce, who A’whora thinks is both the absolute carbon copy of herself and yet also so different, the yin to her yang. Tayce has been her closest friend in the flat since day one when she booted the door to her room down and dragged her out of her emotional stupor, and that’s really what’s set the tone for the rest of their friendship; Tayce, upbeat and motivating, constantly and infectiously helping A’whora feel the same way even when she doesn’t want to go out, or doesn’t feel like dragging herself out of her room for a chill flat night with the others, or even when she just feels like a heap of shit. She’s such a fun and positive person to be around, relentlessly optimistic and goofy, and she brings out that side of A’whora too. As opposed to during sixth form and high school, where she’d put up a front to make sure nobody fucked with her, A’whora finds that at uni she can be the person she truly is and let her guard down a little.

This includes being open about her sexuality for the first time ever. She’s out to her family (for the better or worse), but nobody else back home knows (not even her friends) and she wants to keep it that way for now. But at uni things are different- nobody knows her here, nobody has these preconceived ideas of who she is and who she has to be, so she’d taken the plunge and been open about everything. None of the others had cared of course, in fact they’d all been too excited about the fact there’s not a single straight person in their flat comprised of four lesbians (Tayce, Lawrence, Tia and A’whora), one bi (Ellie) and one pan (Bimini).

“What’ve you got so far?” A’whora asks Bimini, sitting down on the sofa opposite her two flatmates.

Bimini reads off their notepad. “Casino night, bottomless brunch…get the train down to Newcastle, have a big night out, stay out all night an’ get the first train home-”

“Christ, that’ll be a challenge for me, you know I get sleepy around midnight,” Lawrence chuckles.

Bimini shrugs. “We’ll just get you an IV drip of Ellie’s Monster, you’ll be alright.”

“What else’ve you got?”

“That’s it so far.”

A’whora spears a pasta spiral, tilts her head in thought as she eats it. “Get drunk in a lecture.”

“Aw, good one!” Lawrence cries enthusiastically. Bimini, for their part, frowns with disapproval.

“Wait, no! Not a good one. Not a good one at all. It’s alright for you art school bitches, you’ve got some lectures together and you can coordinate, where does that leave me n’ Tia?”

“I guess that leaves you…downing a bottle of five pound chardonnay on the back bench of a lecture hall like a tramp with a drinking problem,” Lawrence shrugs, A’whora yelping out a laugh as Bimini shoves Lawrence with their foot.

Just then, there’s movement in the hall and as A’whora turns around she’s greeted by the sight of a tired-looking Tayce and Ellie walking into the kitchen. They shrug off their coats and take off their shoes and dump their bags on the kitchen table with a huff before they walk over to the others. Tayce spreads herself out over the sofa that A’whora’s sitting on, thudding her feet onto her lap without asking permission, to which A’whora instantly pushes them off her and gets a glare and a smirk in return.

“Lawrie, are you knitting?” Ellie laughs, sitting on the arm of the sofa beside her.

“Yeah? And?”

Ellie snorts in amusement. “Just didn’t realise we were living with a wee granny.”

“Well actually, bawbag! I was in the middle of making you a scarf because I can’t stand to listen to you talking shite about how you’re cold every time we leave the flat, but I can leave it if you want,” Lawrence explains. A’whora thinks it’s funny how Ellie backtracks immediately; she can’t tell if she’s blushing or just out of breath from scaling their block’s stairs. Bimini gains control of the conversation, tilting their head in intrigue.

“How were your lectures, huns?”

“Shit, thanks for asking,” Tayce groans, thudding her head down dramatically against the sofa cushions. “I don’t know, I just can’t concentrate when I’m getting talked at for an hour at a time. I need to be doing stuff, you know?”

“Feel that,” Ellie joins in, deflated. A’whora can sympathise- she loves the practical elements of her course, but not so much the lectures. She’s glad she shares a lot of them with Ellie, and the two of them can dick about and text each other and doodle designs in their notebooks while keeping one ear on whoever’s speaking.

“Well if you want to be doing something, you can help us with this,” Bimini suggests, explaining the bucket list they’ve been making.

The girls get settled and the ideas start to flow, Lawrence putting her speakers on for background noise as they all come up with new and increasingly more chaotic exploits. Ellie suggests trying every cocktail in Levels which gets scribbled down into Bimini’s notepad, and Tayce suggests going to Levels sober, which doesn’t get afforded the same appreciation. A’whora comes up with crashing the catered halls for breakfast one day, which they all agree is a good idea but the chances of it actually happening are low considering the earliest riser in the flat is Tayce and even she doesn’t waken up til half nine on a weekend.

“What’re some clubs we’ve not been to yet?” Bimini asks, shrugging. “Could put those down, try an’ visit every one in the city?”

Lawrence snorts derisively. “You go to Underground if you want your phone stolen, Velvet if you want to be bullied by fifteen year olds in the toilets, and Crystal if you want to subject yourself to painful misogyny and probably some light sexual assault.”

“So none of those, then,” Bimini murmurs.

“Those are all really het as well, though,” Ellie wrinkles her nose up in distaste. Then her face lights up as she gets an idea. “Oh! Put down Pride in July.”

“Nice one,” Bimini nods as they scribble down Ellie’s suggestion, the others making little hums of approval.

The conversation goes on for quite some time. Halfway through it Tayce seems to decide she’s bored of lying down and instead moves to sit on the floor between A’whora’s legs, asking her to play with her hair. They’ll do this sometimes- it’s a routine they fall into, A’whora being able to style Tayce’s endlessly long, straight hair and Tayce finding the whole thing therapeutic. They have a lot of little routines like this: they’ll sit close together on the sofa during a flat movie night and take turns leaning on each others’ shoulders, spontaneously give each other hugs at random points throughout the day, trace patterns into each others’ palms when the other seems stressed.

It’s nice. A’whora’s never really had a friendship like this, soft and caring and kind. In school her group was the kind that made catty jokes about each other then buffered them with a “love you!” afterwards and took kissy-face group selfies only to bitch about each other on a private group chat mere hours later. If it was a wolfpack then it was rabid and cannibalistic, and it had seemed like a full-time job ensuring she was never the runt of it. What she’s got with all her flatmates now- especially Tayce- makes her feel like she can finally breathe.

“What about the Centurion Challenge?” Lawrence suggests with a small gasp, breaking A’whora’s reverie as she expertly twirls Tayce’s hair into a loose and chunky French plait.

“Jesus Christ, Lawrence,” Ellie mutters in amusement.

“What’s the Centurion Challenge?” Bimini asks, pulling a face.

Lawrence gives a blythe shrug as she elaborates. “A hundred shots in a hundred minutes.”

A’whora ruins Tayce’s braid in shock, her hair untwisting itself from the braid as if it’s outraged too. The cry she gives joins in harmony with that of Tayce’s and Bimini’s. “A hundred shots? You’d fucking die!”

“Not of vodka! Obviously not of vodka! I know we all have one communal brain cell between us but Christ, can one of yous not use it?!” Lawrence protests. “It’s a hundred shots of beer. Don’t shit yourselves.”

“Aw, well that’s alright then,” Bimini pipes up sarcastically. “What’s actually wrong with Scottish people? Is your breastmilk spiked with whiskey? What d’you get instead of Cow and Gate formula, just cocaine?"

“Actually, a hundred shots of beer sounds more doable to me,” Tayce shrugs, and A’whora can feel her relax against her lap.

“I’d need to change it, I can’t stand beer,” A’whora considers. Ellie cocks her head in consideration.

“Well what alcohol do you like?”

“Fucking none of it,” A’whora laughs. “Cocktails. Vodka cokes. Anything where there’s juice to cover it up.”

Tayce twists her head to look up at her, a little twinkle of mischief in her eye. “I think the challenge ceases to be a challenge when it’s reduced to one hundred watered down shots of Woo Woo, Rory.”

As the others blurt out a laugh A’whora glares down at Tayce, but she can’t help but break out into a giggle too when Tayce grabs her knee and gives it a playful wobble, letting her know she was only joking without even having to say a thing.

A’whora’s not sure what time it is when she hears the front door swing shut and Tia emerges from the hallway, her long hair all messed up from the seemingly ever-present wind outside and almost obscuring the bright smile plastered on her face. “Hey, huns!”

“Oi oi,” Tayce greets her from her position on the floor. “What’s got you so smiley?”

“Nooothing,” Tia smirks, dragging the word out playfully. “Just got an invite to the night out of a very cute girl in my MT society…and she said you guys can all come too. Pres at her flat and then out to The Avenue. Evening plans sorted?”

“Oh, love that!” Bimini gives an enthusiastic clap. “Go on then, who’s the girl? Whose night are we crashing?”

“Her name’s Veronica,” Tia smiles bashfully. “She’s so lovely. Honestly, she wouldn’t mind you coming! She’s got one of the big flats over at Gourock Court so it’s not like it’ll be packed.”

“You don’t exactly want to go to a party that’s not going to be packed,” Ellie screws up her nose. She looks unimpressed and her tone is flat. “And even if it is, I don’t know if I’m in the mood for a flat party with a ton of new people, Tia.”

A’whora’s face drops and she locks eyes with Lawrence simultaneously, who’s got an equally incredulous look on her face. “Els, are you unwell? You never turn down a night out.”

Ellie shrugs quietly, not giving much away on her face. Tia, obviously keen to move to the girl she’s crushing on, carries on persuading her. “C’mon, Eleanor, don’t be such a fucking…square! It’s the musical theatre society, we’re just a walking Pride festival who all happen to be able to hold a tune. There’s loads of fit lesbians?”

“Well if I wasn’t convinced before, I sure am now,” Tayce purrs, a little smile appearing on her lips and a cheeky twinkle in her eyes. A’whora feels her laugh come out weakly. She doesn’t know why, but an odd, uncomfortable feeling lodges itself in her gut. She can’t quite put her finger on what exactly it is or why it’s put itself there.

“And there’s gonna be so many musicals on the playlist!” Tia continues to insist, despite being met with Ellie’s sour face. “I know you’ll love it! They’d probably even play stuff from Shrek if you got them drunk enough.”

A’whora can’t help but scrunch up her nose in distaste. “Hey, I’m only coming if they play fucking…normal people music as well. I’m not gonna be sat in a room with twenty white kids trying to rap to Hamilton or whatever the fuck it is.”

Tia rolls her eyes, plants her hands on her hips in exasperation. “Calm down, A’whora, you’ll still get all the top 40 dance-pop shit you love so much.”

“To be honest, it sounds class. And The Avenue’s always good,” Bimini cuts in calmly. A’whora does have to agree with that. They’ve not been there in a while- the bar across the road from the city’s most popular LGBT club- and its selection of early 00s pop princess tracks combined with its deal of two vodka mixers and a shot for a fiver makes it a guaranteed good night out.

“Well it seems like we’re all down, even if this stroppy cow isn’t,” Tia smiles happily, sticking her tongue out at Ellie for good measure. Ellie finally heaves a world-weary sigh, rolling her eyes dramatically as she relents.

“Ugh, fine! Fine, but this Verruca or whatever the hell she’s called better be the hottest bitch on the planet for you to drag us all out with your MT weirdos, Tia Maria,” she grumps. Tia ignores her bad mood and lets out a cheer which the others join in with, and A’whora resolves to interrogate Ellie about her Bitter Betty attitude later on. Preferably when they’re both drunk. That always makes things easier.

In the melee of excitement, Tayce twists round from her position on the carpet, folds her arms and rests them on top of A’whora’s thighs. “Right. You need to come help me choose an outfit if we’re going out. I need to look fit.”

A’whora smiles with pride. “Ooh, personal stylist duties? I’m honoured.”

“Well I’m hardly gonna ask Tia, am I?” Tayce giggles quietly, and A’whora joins in like it’s a little secret they’re sharing. “Or Ellie. She’d just send me out in one of her bodysuit/skirt combos. I swear to God that girl is like Marge bloody Simpson. Open up her wardrobe and she’ll have twenty sets of the same outfit. Serial killer behaviour, that.”

At this point A’whora is laughing so much that it draws the attention of the others, who eye them with suspicious stares. “What the hell’s so funny?”

A’whora gives Tayce a mischievous look. “Tayce just called Ellie a serial killer.”

Tayce yelps in outrage at having been called out, and as Ellie narrows her eyes Tayce leaps up from the floor and tugs A’whora off of the sofa with her. “That’s taking it out of context, you absolute hound! Come on, help me pick something.”

Tayce’s fingers stay curled around A’whora’s hand all the way down the corridor and into her bedroom. It’s a feeling that A’whora likes because it makes her feel close to her friend, and Tayce taking her hand is like an affirmation and a reassurance all in one; that she likes her, that their friendship has reached the level where hand-holding has become acceptable, that A’whora is worthy of being liked, of being someone’s friend- their real, proper friend. The validation sets her heart off like a flare. It’s nice to feel wanted.

A’whora perches on the edge of Tayce’s bed as she scrapes the coat hangers in her wardrobe and throws outfits onto the bed like a tornado, each more gorgeous than the last and all ones Tayce would look stunning in. That’s something that always strikes A’whora about Tayce; just how beautiful she is, how absolutely blessed with the God-given good genes. The way she looks serene and ethereal without makeup, walking to lectures in the morning with the sun hitting her face and giving her skin a glow. The way she paints for a night out and knows how to accentuate everything about her face that’s already perfect, a feat that would seem like an exaggeration if A’whora hadn’t seen it for herself to confirm it’s true. She frequently finds herself having to hold back from giving compliments to Tayce because if she started she’d never stop.

“Okay, first thoughts are…” Tayce announces unnecessarily loudly, and A’whora laughs at the way she’s talking as if she’s a stylist on a morning TV show. “…I’m thinking something black.”

“Of course you are,” A’whora interrupts with a laugh. “Tayce wearing black. How predictable.”

Tayce gives her a shove on the shoulder that’s too hard and makes her fall back against the mattress. “Shut up! I’ll wear something other than black when Lawrence wears something other than purple, how’s about that?”

The pair of them giggle at the joke as Tayce rifles through the clothes she’s shortlisted, holding up a black leather jacket and a black bralet with an intricate lace hem. The combination makes A’whora’s eyes fly wide open in appreciation.

“This?” Tayce raises an eyebrow at her inquisitively. The fact she’s obviously seen her reaction makes A’whora feel a little self-conscious and she doesn’t particularly know why. “Because I’m wanting to wear either my wet-look leggings or my black vinyl skirt with the zip up the front, and I don’t know if that’s too much leather effect stuff?”

“It’s too much,” A’whora nods, physically unable to help her honesty. “Also I think you should wear the skirt because you’ve got good legs and you should get them out any chance you get. But also the bralet won’t go with it because it’ll make your proportions all wrong.”

Tayce smiles appreciatively as she throws the bralet back into her wardrobe as if A’whora’s given her a command and not a suggestion. “See, this is another reason why you’re the queen of outfit advice. Bimini wouldn’t give me this level of honesty, they’re too nice.”

A’whora feels a warmth spread in her chest at the compliment, but she doesn’t show it. Instead she snorts, nods in agreement. “Yeah, because you could come out dressed in a pair of child’s pyjamas and they’d still say they love it. They’d say it’s very Y2K or something.”

Tayce lets out a cackle before holding up the skirt and leather jacket, humming in thought. “Okay, so you’re saying ditch the jacket but keep the skirt.”

“Yes.”

“And ditch the bralet.”

“Yes.”

“So you want me to go out in a skirt and a pair of heels and nothing else,” Tayce raises an eyebrow at her, and as A’whora bursts out laughing and protests she has to fight off a blush at the thought of her best friend topless in heels. Topless in heels and a vinyl skirt. Topless in heels and a vinyl skirt with a zip that could just be pulled down to leave her in-

The heat floods A’whora’s face like she’s been smacked and she shifts on the bed in an attempt at dissipating the feelings that’ve hit her like a tsunami. Inappropriate. Weird. Way too weird. Don’t do that again.

“What about the bright blue fur coat you’ve got? Because you could have an all black outfit with that as a bit of colour,” she suggests, shrugging lightly in an attempt to pretend that she hadn’t just been thinking about Tayce in the way she had.

Tayce’s face lights up and she points at A’whora with one hand and reaches into her wardrobe with the other. “Love that. Okay, top?”

“Are you addressing me? I’ve never topped for anyone,” A’whora attempts a joke. If Tayce can make jokes like that to her then she can do it right back.  

“That’s very clear, baby,” Tayce shoots in response without missing a beat. Before A’whora realises it, she’s flexing her toes. What the fuck is happening to her? She needs to steer this conversation back on track.

She thinks for a second. “You’re a size eight, right?”

“In theory. The amount of pot noodles I’ve been chucking down my neck since I moved in is very quickly rendering that a distant memory, I’ll tell ya,” Tayce says, as she leans against the door of her wardrobe and folds her arms.

“I’ve got a black lace bodysuit that would go with that. It’s a ten so it’ll fit. D’you want to try it?”

“Well despite the fact a skirt and a bodysuit was the very thing I just roasted Ellie for always wearing…that sounds lush. Thanks, Rory Roo,” Tayce agrees, the nickname-of-a-nickname setting off the click of a small pilot light in A’whora’s heart. She’s about to ask if she wants to come try it on just now when she hears both their names being yelled from the kitchen.

The pair of them head back through to find that Tia has changed the playlist on the speakers from the chilled-out, calm acoustic one that had been playing to her early 00’s tunes. Combined with Bimini half-singing, half-yelling along to Murder on the Dancefloor and the blast of the extractor fan as Ellie stirs something in a big metal pot at the hob, it’s a far cry from the calm, cosy scene that A’whora had witnessed in the kitchen some hours prior.

Ellie had been the one who had shouted on them, and she whips around from the cooker when she realises that Tayce and A’whora have come through. “I’m making dinner for me, Bims and Tia, you wanting some?”

“Depends what it is. Come on, talk it up, Ellie. Give us some options,” Tayce shrugs with feigned disinterest, and A’whora can’t help the bubble of laughter that bursts from her mouth as Ellie narrows her eyes at her.

“It’s spaghetti and meatballs, and your alternatives are fuck off or die,” she shoots back savagely, and the whoop of shock and laughter that goes up from the others soars above the music and the fan. Tayce laughs good-naturedly in spite of the barb.

“I’m joking, ‘course I’ll take some.”

A’whora wrinkles her nose. “You’re making meatballs for a meal that Bimini is gonna eat?”

“They’re not real ones, dipshit,” Bimini pipes up from over on the sofa. “It’s that Birdseye Green Cuisine shit, innit.”

“Birdseye Green Cuisine shit,” A’whora repeats disdainfully. “If you ever go on The Apprentice, Bim, Alan Sugar’s gonna shit himself at your selling abilities.”

Tayce snorts, tries and fails to cover it up. When her eyes rest on A’whora they share a little smile, and A’whora’s grows bigger when she thinks about the way they’re both so in sync all the time.

“They’re nice, I promise! Veronica’s talked them up loads, she told me she’s been trying to eat more veggie things,” Tia insists, with an entirely unnecessary namedrop of her crush. A’whora relents and says she’ll have a small bowl before jumping out of her skin as Ellie bangs the spoon against the pot somewhat aggressively with a face like thunder.

Before A’whora can ask Ellie about her bad mood, Tia speaks again as she scrolls her phone to change the song. “Honestly, Ellie, you’re a star for doing dinner. Thanks so much.”

“Aw, don’t be silly, doll! It’s nothing!” Ellie turns around from the hob and bats the compliment away, shooting Tia a dazzling smile in return. It’s funny the way her demeanour seems to instantly do a complete 180 at the praise, and it makes A’whora wonder what’s changed.

She’s distracted, though, by the way Lawrence enters in her dressing gown with her hair up in a towel, obviously having come straight from the shower. She pouts and whines in a very un-Lawrence way as she lingers at the doorframe between the hall and the kitchen.

“Guysss, does anyone have an ID they can give me for tonight?”

“What about your friend? Who was it…Rosé?” A’whora shrugs, and Lawrence fixes her with a wide-eyed stare of incredulity.

“Oh my God, A’whora! I never thought about asking the girl I’ve been borrowing ID from since the start of uni! Thanks for that!” she says sarcastically, Bimini giving a yelp of laughter and A’whora leaning off the countertops and swiping at Lawrence in retort. “She’s using it. She asked her girlfriend and her flatmates for me but they’ve all got plans. I felt like a fuckin’ daytime TV charity advert.”

“For just one pound a week, you could help an underaged child get blackout drunk on triple trebles,” A’whora puts on a dramatic, concerned voice, proud of the way it makes Tayce blurt out a laugh.

“It’s such fucking bullshit,” Lawrence huffs, leaning against the fridge and folding her arms. “I mean my eighteenth’s in five days and I’ve been drinking in parks since I was fourteen, how can I not just be let into a fuckin’ bar?”

“Grow up and order a fake one,” Ellie shakes her head with incredulity, smashing the wooden spoon against the pot again with a bang-bang-bang to get the excess pasta sauce off.

“Just you pipe down, hen, you shouldn’t even be at uni. In fact, have you even completed primary yet?”

The two girls stick their tongues out at each other, a mirror-image of petty bickering that makes A’whora laugh. Luckily Bimini steps in, shrugging as they open their purse.

“Here, babe. I’ve still got my course friend’s provisional from when she dropped it on Gordon Street when she was off her face. I ain’t given her it back yet an’ I’m sure she wouldn’t care if you borrowed it. She’s chill.”

Lawrence accepts enthusiastically, bouncing over to Bimini and thanking them gratefully. A’whora watches her face drop, though, when she takes a look at the photo.

“There’s no way this’ll work.”

Bimini tuts and shakes their head, the picture of casual composure. “It’s fine, babes, they never look properly anyway.”

Lawrence drops the hand that’s holding the license to her side and fixes her friend with an astounded glare. “Bimini. This girl is black.”

As the others screech with outrage and mirth, Bimini waves Lawrence’s concerns away blithely. “It’ll be dark! It’s fine! Asttina an’ you have both got similar…well…you’re both girls, an’ you’re about the same height. Give or take a few inches.”    

“Christ. I’m going to have to just forward roll past the bouncers, aren’t I? Then draw a fuckin’ club stamp on my arm in Sharpie.”

“Oh my God, stop moaning!” Ellie sighs from her position at the hob, bangs the spoon again for emphasis. “Look, I’ll ask Pippa from flat 2, alright? You both have brown hair, so…that’ll probably be enough.”

A’whora thinks it’s interesting the way Lawrence doesn’t shoot something back in her foghorn of a voice like she normally does. Instead she smiles warmly, dashes over to the kitchen where she hugs Ellie from behind, squeezing her tightly at the stomach and making her flinch in surprise.

“Thanks, Ellie-Bellie,” she sing-songs, swaying her aggressively from side to side until Ellie bats her away, flicking the spoon in a way that threatens to shower them both in marinara sauce.

“Right, that’s plenty. Don’t even do things I enjoy for that long.”

“When’s this gonna be ready, Els?” Bimini shouts through as Lawrence lets go. “ ‘Ave I got time to do my makeup before it?”

Ellie shrugs. “If you can do your makeup in ten minutes.”

A’whora kicks her leg out in Tayce’s direction and jerks her head towards the hall. “Do you want to try on that bodysuit before tea?”

Tayce nods enthusiastically in agreement, so they go back along the corridor with a shout to the others telling them they won’t be long. A’whora holds the door of her room open for Tayce and her heart sinks in embarrassment when she realises she forgot to make her bed this morning.

“Sorry about the mess,” she apologies, to which Tayce gives a cry of a laugh in response.

“A’whora, have you seen my room? You’re fine, kid, don’t worry.”

A’whora thinks that’s true- Tayce’s room is a state, but somehow it seems to suit her. Tayce’s room with the crowded bulletin board, desk covered in sweet wrappers and sketches, floor carpeted with clothes that need washed and outfits that didn’t make the cut. The cracked picture frame on her window-sill of the first selfie the six of them all got together on the first night of freshers and the huge cheese plant that sits next to her bedside table, Tayce’s pride and joy. They’re all little intricate shards that join up to form a perfect picture of her personality, and A’whora thinks it’s sort of perfect.

She looks out the bodysuit from its neatly Marie Kondo-d place in her wardrobe and hands it gently to Tayce. “Try it and see. It’s a small 10 anyway so it’ll probably be fine for you.”

Tayce accepts it gratefully and hooks a finger around both of the straps, letting the rest of the material fall out of its perfectly folded little parcel. She gives a little gasp of appreciation as she looks at it. “Oh yes, baby. I think this’ll do just fine.”

A’whora feels good- proud that she’s managed to find the perfect piece for Tayce’s outfit, to help her look as inevitably gorgeous as she knows she will. The smile on her face falters, though, when Tayce shoots her a wink and leans against the wall with her shoulder. “This is gonna get me someone I can pop off my acrylics for, I can tell. You’ve got the best taste, girl.”

“Are you actually going to try and get with someone tonight?” A’whora injects a laugh into her question that she’s banking on sounding genuine, otherwise it comes across as accusatory and that’s not what she means it to be. Or is it? She doesn’t know. “You know how messy nights at The Avenue always get. Last time we were there Lawrence got so drunk she told us she couldn’t see, remember?”

Tayce laughs her off with a shrug. “Well then I’ll just have to be careful with my drinks, won’t I?”

A’whora gives a false laugh, tries so hard to get it to meet her eyes. Why is she so pressed about this? She gets with girls on nights out too, she’s brought the occasional one night stand to the flat. Tayce is allowed to do the same.

So why does she feel ever so slightly gutted?

If her smile looks fake (which it is) then Tayce doesn’t notice, and she only shoots her a smile as she opens the bedroom door. “You’re an angel. I’ll pop this on then be back in five.”

A’whora takes the opportunity of Tayce having left to make her bed, and as she does so she feels lots of little thoughts dart around her mind like minnows, none of them staying in the same place for long enough to be able to be deciphered. She manages to catch a few before they flee away and she clings to them, turning them over in her head: why does she feel so bothered about the prospect of Tayce finding a girl at the party, talking to her and making a connection and laughing at her jokes? Why had it felt like a punch to the gut when Tayce was joking about doing so? Why does she have this part of her that feels like an idiot for setting Tayce up to look her best and knowing that it’s for the benefit of somebody else, somebody that doesn’t know her like she does?

And then her bedroom door opens and A’whora turns around and lays eyes on her best friend. Tayce in her high heels and bare legs and the skirt with the zip. Tayce with her baby blue fake fur coat and her straight, dark hair tumbling over its shoulders. Tayce in the bodysuit- A’whora’s bodysuit- with the lace and the mesh that clings to her chest like it was designed just for her. There’s something about the fact that she’s wearing something that belongs to A’whora that makes something inside her chest tingle, the fact it’s a little piece of her in Tayce’s jigsaw puzzle that seems to fit regardless of the difference.

“What d’you think?” Tayce smiles, all too aware of how drop-dead stunning she looks.

And then the realisation hits A’whora like a train.

Oh.

Fuck.

She’s screwed.

[repentantsky]

5 Companies That Have Too Much Hype Around Them

Look, we all love our favorite games with a passion, and to an extent that’s fine, but when that passion becomes obsession and that obsession becomes forgetting our own moral compass for the sake of entertainment, it does feel like it’s gone too far. It’s one thing to love what a company releases, it’s completely another to ignore every problem they’ve ever had. Not all of the companies on this list have done horribly un-ethical things, but they’ve at least been anti-consumer, and the fact that people don’t question that enough has led to them sometimes, making horrible mistakes. I am RepentantSky, I love making lists that trash on things that are popular, and these are 5 companies, that have too much hype around them.

5. Nintendo

Already I can hear people getting angry, and in a way I get it. Nintendo is for many people the place where they either begin to play games, or the place they go to keep on playing them when everything else let’s them down, and of course, they put an end to the flipping video game crash of 1983, and no one else will ever be able to claim that from them. That’s all wonderful, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be critical of them. I’ve talked about a number of things they’ve done wrong before, so let me quickly run down the list of some of their anti-consumer practices. They, charge too much for remasters and ports, they don’t drop prices in games, they used to charge for fixing Joy-Cons and now completely deny it’s a problem for legal reasons, despite everyone pretty much having experienced drift, they haven’t been good at getting stock for their items in at least 20 years, and oh yeah, they sell all the content for a remake for $115 on the 3DS, the system and the fans that helped them get by while the Wii U was massively underperforming, all while handing owners of the, at the time, unproven Switch, free content. Nintendo has a tendency to still think like a toy company, and they even used that idea to present the Nintendo Entertainment System as a toy instead of a console when they first game to the West with it, but they aren’t a toy company, their a gaming company that also sells toys, just like everyone else. I get they’ve done amazing things, I own over 150 physical handheld games from them, and a ton of digital games besides, but when they start charging twice what they are worth for SD cards, while releasing games that absolutely won’t fit on the limited space of the Switch, and they simply don’t care when costumers complain, it’s time to at least question their motives.  

4. Bethesda

Boy I used to really rip on this company back when I posted lists on Facebook, but I haven’t done it in a while, so let’s do it again. Bethesda has absolutely spent at least the last 10 years lying to people, Todd Howard, has become famous for it, but I think I might have been the only person who wasn’t shocked when Fallout 76 was the disaster that it was. There were so many things wrong with that game, that I don’t even have time to go over every little thing, but lying, you know the thing that will get another company on this list very soon, was a big thing they did with the game. They promised at one point that they weren’t ever going to charge for items in the game that gave in-game benefits, and they did, allowing ammo and other items to be bought with real money for a time, they promised new, specialized servers if you paid for a yearly service that was way too expensive, and that wasn’t true because people found proof of things missing from what would have been a freshly made, private server, and there’s no excuse for that, games in early access do that correctly, and they aren’t, at least supposedly, even finished yet. I wish I could say that’s all they’ve done, but they also bullied an indie developer over their game Prey, a game they may have bullied the original developer for so they could get cheaper, but we’ll never know because they refused to comment on that when asked, they also refused to update their outdated game engine for years, which caused something they spent over a decade fixing, games releasing with glitches, some of them game breaking. Yet somehow, they have such a fan base that those who love their games will claim the glitches are just part of the charm. That kind of fierce loyalty led to Fallout 76, and even though we make jokes about it even now, the horse DLC from way back in the day, was an indication of everything they’ve done, including trying to charge for mods made for free, meant to be consumed for free, twice. Bethesda is a bad company and they do not care. 

3. Activision/Blizzard

You know one of the worst things Nintendo does that I didn’t really mention directly in the first entry, is limit the amount of time a product is available, instead of just letting it be there for consumption as long as it’s selling (that was what the toy company reference was about if it wasn’t clear). However, Activision/Blizzard are the Kings of doing this, as they not only limited things while they were in control of Destiny 2 to the point where you pretty much had to use real money to get everything, and never mind everything else they did to it, because we’d be here all day going through it all, but they also don’t support games as a service titles long enough for dedicated fans. Crash Team Racing Nitro fueled, is a prime example of this. People weren’t done with that game, and when fans thought for even a split second that an update was going to come to fix an issue, their hype (mine to) was so explosive, it was almost like we were getting a new game, but then nothing happened, because they didn’t care. A lot of companies that do yearly release titles as a service have this problem and nothing exemplified that more for Activision, than Skylanders, a series originally made off the back of Spyro, who didn’t even wait for a year to release new games, as technically between October 21st and November 20th of the year the first game came out, they released three of them, and I’m not even kidding. Two of them, were mobile games! You might have thought I was going to go after Call of Duty, for this, but that horse has been beaten to ground, somehow, more than Skylanders was. They also, for whatever reason, released each expansion on different generations console generations, at different months throughout Fall, like somehow the season of Fall, they needed a release every month, if not two, and so off they went. I didn’t even get into Blizzard, but all I need to say is “Blitzchung” and all the memories will likely come flooding back. There’s also the fact that in two separate years, after gaining massive profits, they dropped hundreds of employees, and hired more than they’d let go, but I guess that doesn’t really matter to some of you, because when they did it this year, with so little warning, most employees found out via the news articles about it, but we all made such a little stink this time around, it didn’t create any media buzz, so I guess that doesn’t matter, you’d all rather play flipping World of Warcraft, like better MMO’s don’t exist. 

2. CD Projekt Red

I know this one comes off a little more fresh in the mind, and they technically only lied about one game, but man, what a series of lies it was. Also, let’s be honest, one major game, does not a great developer always make. CDPR’s previous two Witcher games did exactly what the author of the books thought they would, and that was almost nothing in terms of making a serious impact, and the reason is, they are kind of bad. They aren’t the worst games out there, but there is a good reason why The Witcher 1 and 2 haven’t been ported and/or remastered, despite how important they are to the story of Witcher 3, and that’s because they both suck. Cyperpunk 2077, was in a lot of ways, them just going back to being the developer they were before, the BIG ONE happened. They lied about nearly everything in regards to the game, including how the main platforms where consumers were going to buy it, were actually running well. I made those references to Witcher 1 and  2 for a reason, although if I’m being honest, they actually look better than Cyberpunk did on day 0, and that’s completely unacceptable. The budget for CDPR was basically nothing for Witcher 1 and 2 combined to what Cyberpunk got, but they were so focused on the PC versions because PC ran the game better, somehow (like maybe because they didn’t try with consoles) and they missed glitches that were so bad, the game felt like it was still in beta, if not alpha upon release. The fact that they’ve only released eleven games in twenty-three years, and only two of them didn’t have The Witcher on them, should have told us all we need to know, and yet the game, even after returns, which was another massive screw-job that led to Cyberpunk being removed from the PlayStation store, still sold Sixteen million units, all because of hype, and because apparently, some people don’t care if they’re lied to. Do you want to know what the other game they released is besides a Witcher title? It was flipping Saints Row 2, a fun game, but also one that’s too goofy for it’s own good, and yet suddenly makes Cyberpunk’s release, make sense, because it was all a massive joke, and a parody of good, well running, open world games. CDPR needs to seriously do something, anything different, and never release a game in this poor of a state ever again.

1. Ubisoft

I put Ubisoft at number one for a damn good reason, and that reason is, that everyone seems to hate the company, but loves their games, and I don’t know why. They haven’t been the overall worst company on this list, although they are pretty bad, but the major problem they have, and have had for at least a decade is that none of their games have any identity, they are literally all the same game, with different coats of paint. Sure, an occasional gem sneaks through like Assassin’s Creed IV, but all of the rest of their games have the same visual style (although ACII does seem to be the base for which they create their art let’s be honest), the shooting mechanics they have in all the games that have guns, all feel exactly the same, which is something even Call of Duty manages to avoid most years (guess I took a shot at them anyways) and yet somehow, someway, I keep seeing people getting excited for their releases, and it doesn’t make any sense. Sure, they throw a celebrity actor in from time to time, and the artistic style they use does look pretty cool, but everything is always the same with them, every single time, no matter what it is, and they still keep making money. It doesn’t really make sense either, because a lot of developers do make games that are very similar feeling, see the Life is Strange team or much as well all loved them, Telltale Games, but at least those titles told extremely interesting stories, and developed their mechanics at least a little, which is something most companies do just on principal, but not Ubisoft. They throw out a few Tom Clancy games every time they talk about what their releasing, the Trials and AC games are still mostly a yearly experience, and I’ll say it again, their entire list of releases since at least 2013, the year the previous generation kicked off, have pretty much all been the same. It would be nice if they made more games like Child of Light, but despite the fact that their games will likely never be as popular as Call of Duty, they keep churning out same-y shooters hoping that one day, maybe just one day, they’ll create their own CoD, and it’s just not gonna happen. The saddest part of all is that when they announce something different, something fans have wanted for years, we get The Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time Remake, which was literally delayed because fans said they wouldn’t buy it unless some actual effort was put into making it, why is this company so popular that it can keep doing this, someone please explain it to me. 

And that’s my list, can you think of any other companies that are too hyped? Let me know in the notes below, hit me up with a follow if you like my content, and give me a reblog, I’d really appreciate it. Have a wonderful life!  

[petri808]

Bakudeku canon divergent, vampire quirk AU

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

“How are you holding up son, are you eating enough food? You need to keep up your strength.” Mitsuki Bakugou questioned through the phone when her son called to give her an update.

“Yeah, yeah, of course I am! And, um, thanks for the money you put in my account,” Bakugou mumbled his appreciation.

“It’s from us, Inko, and All Might— actually he’s been putting up the bulk of it. We’re all hoping you find Izuku soon, but until then we’ll make sure you have what you need, just bring him home.”

“I’m working on it. Bastard’s not making it easy, but at least the damn authorities haven’t picked up on the trail yet.” It was a good thing, because Bakugou didn’t need them scaring Midoriya further away.

“You’re like a dog with a bone when you put your mind to something, so I know you’ll find a way.”

“I can’t believe you just equated me to a dog!”

“Oh, bite your tongue boy! It’s an expression!”

“Yeah, yeah. I better go, the train’s here.” He could see it pulling into Kawaji station.

“Are you still not gonna tell us where you are?”

“Nope. He moves around a lot anyways. Just know we haven’t left Honshu.”

“Alright. Good luck son. I’ll pass on your update to Inko and All Might.”

This game of hide and seek was physically wearing on Bakugou, but there was nothing short of a full incapacitation that would keep him from searching. After the Ena incident, Midoriya’s tactics had changed somewhat. The man moved more frequently and, in a zigzag, whereas in the past it had been heading in a straight line towards Shizuoka to the southwest. But there was one thing Midoriya couldn’t hide— victims. It didn’t take a genius to put the pieces together.

There were still times victims were drained, but not all of them. Bakugou surmised in order to not leave them fully incapacitated like before, his friend wasn’t always waiting until he was hungry, or he hadn’t learned to control it yet. He probably fed almost nightly, picking drunkards who wouldn’t remember what happened, and even less likely to report the incident. But less reports made it harder to track, and less blood also forced Midoriya to drink more often. Bakugou hoped that with shorter times between attacks, the man would get sloppy and make a mistake.

There were a lot of small towns all over, including abandoned structures from older times. Plenty of places to hide, not to mention dense forests and the mountainous terrain of central Japan that a person could disappear in. When tracking a lack of victim reports grew frustrating, Bakugou started looking for other clues, and in one town, a perceptive police officer commented about thefts he’d been hearing about from the surrounding areas. Random stores or restaurants, even some homes reporting the theft of food, sometimes clothing, basically survival type supplies but no valuables, which are not the norm of a burglary. It was brilliant.

Bakugou had thanked the officer for the information and immediately began inquiring in towns and watching newspapers where they were having both types of problems. It took almost a month, including a couple of near misses, until Bakugou knew he was closing in.

Local newspapers were reporting about unusual happenings in the smaller towns. In Ieyama city, high up in the mountains north of Shizuoka, Bakugou spoke with a police officer and confirmed a rash of strange incidents reported. Three burglaries of just food, one bath house broken into after closing, and a couple of reported attacks where the victims had marks on their necks. So far, Izuku’s new behaviors included sticking around the same area for about a week before moving on. With these latest cases only 3 days old in total, Bakugou knew they were a fresh lead.

“Yesterday, right?”

“Yes, the last burglary was in the afternoon while the homeowner was at work.” Using a paper map, the police officer showed Bakugou the location of the most recent burglary as well as two others over the last couple of days. It was very telling. The three places were centered around a 4-block radius. “If you are looking for hiding spots, there is an abandoned factory in that area. I’ll give you the address.”

“Thanks. I doubt they’d stay so close to the attack grounds, but I’ll check it out.” He didn’t want any of them following him.

It was still daylight, but Bakugou didn’t want to waste any time and risk his friend moving again after dark, heading straight for the dilapidated warehouse. The place looked like it had been emptied for a longtime. There was a rusted, chain link fence around the property, many broken windows, and weeds growing over the structure. Bakugou crept up to one of the windows, and heard nothing, so he moved slowly, quietly around the exterior paying close attention to any sounds or movements inside. But he heard nothing to indicate anything was there, not even an animal. Maybe it was another dead end, or maybe Midoriya was just sleeping. Un-phased, he moved inside the two-story building to make absolutely sure.

It took a while to search cautiously through the darkness, watching his step so not to step on anything or make a noise. The vastly open bottom floor was almost completely empty aside from a few left behind junk. So, Bakugou moved to the second floor where offices once were. Of all the areas, the top floor would provide the warmest cover, as well as quicker access to the roof. Like a trained tactical soldier, he cleared room after room, moving down the hallway that separated the individual offices, and one by one, eliminating them from the search. Finally, Bakugou reached the last one and heard the soft breathing of a sleeping person. Well, that meant two options, it’s just a homeless person or he’d finally caught his friend off guard.

Bakugou peered cautiously around the door frame. It was dark, but just enough light from a small window allowed his eyes to adjust quickly on a form lying down on the floor. Next to the person was a backpack, empty food containers strewn around, and possibly other items from the burglaries. There was also a make-shift hearth of broken bricks and a metal bowl with dark residue inside. He could even smell the light scent of soot mixed with burnt wood. ‘Gotcha!’ He smirked as he pocketed his flashlight and pulled out a special pair of handcuffs used to dampen quirks. It didn’t completely shut down a person’s quirk, but it kept them from using its full power. He was ready for Midoriya this time.

‘Almost there…’ he crept forward in a crouched manner ready to pounce like a predator stalking its prey in careful movements since he no longer had the flashlight out to see by. ‘Damn minefield,’ Bakugou grumbled as he navigated around the strewn mess of stuff the sleeping man had around him. ‘Almost there—'

*Crunch*

A piece of glass shattered below his boot, the sounds reverberating off the silent cement walls. “Shit!” Bakugou dove forward when Midoriya immediately popped up and tried to dash away. “Not this time nerd!”

“Waaahhhcchan!” Midoriya screamed as he was tackled to the floor. The two men fought, vying for footing, but the blonde kept them on the ground. Bakugou grabbed for and slapped one end of the handcuffs onto one of Midoriya’s wrists. “Nooo!” The man screamed.

“Not this time Deku! You ain’t getting away!”

Weakened by the cuff, Bakugou poured all his strength into jerking the disheveled man, flipping him onto his stomach, and tweaking his arm behind him into a wrist lock for leverage.

Midoriya screamed again from the pain, but nevertheless fought with all he had. Unfortunately, the cuffs were doing their job. “Please, Kacchan! Don’t do this!”

“Tough shit!” Bakugou snapped back and attached the other cuff to his own wrist. The effects would hamper them both, but “I dare you, nerd, you can’t beat me in a contemporary fight.” He was confident of such, having always been the physically stronger of the two regardless of quirk. “I’m taking you home!”

Midoriya wriggled, and tugged, but it was of no use. His friend had planted his feet, dropped his weight, and refused to budge. He didn’t want to risk exhausting himself and triggering a full-blown thirst like last time, so he stopped struggling.

After a few seconds, Bakugou got off the man and turned him over so he could sit up. Midoriya nursed his arm and rubbed at his wrist to soothe the pain. “Of course, I want to go home,” he sighed. “But it’s too dangerous Kacchan, why can’t you understand that?”

“Eri’s getting better every day, one day she’ll be able to control her quirk and fix you.”

“That’s not good enough. What are you gonna do, lock me up hoping she can fix me?! You saw what happened! Just like we eat food every day, I need blood, how are you gonna deal with that?!”

“Fine,” Bakugou shrugged, “we’ll hook you up to an IV and feed you blood when you need it.”

“No,” Midoriya started tugging again as tears flowed down his cheeks. “Please,” he begged, “this is too embarrassing, don’t you understand! I’ll never be able to be a hero again, my reputation will be ruined once everyone finds out! Hero society will look bad! It’s better I stay away!”

Frustrated with having his wrist yanked, Bakugou whipped his friend around and put him in a carotid choke hold. “Well, I’m not fucking leaving,” he spat, “so, we need to come up with a solution. Now stop fucking fighting me and get it through your head, the reality is I’m not going anywhere.”

Midoriya clawed at Bakugou’s arm trying to pull it away from his neck, but the man had it cinched in tight. If he kept struggling, he was bound to pass out. Exhausted, he finally relented and turned into a dead weight, sobbing quietly. “Why are you doing this, Kacchan… why?”

“Because a friend once told me I need to save to win, and right now you need to be saved for me to win.”

“Right? Win, I get it,” Midoriya narrowed his eyes along with tone. “This is an ego thing? You’ll take me back to show how you’re still better than me?” His heart didn’t believe those words, but as a coping mechanism, it did.

Bakugou let go of the man and shoved him so hard Midoriya face planted on the floor, stretching the handcuff chain to its limit. “I ought’a punch your lights out for saying that! I’m trying to win my friend back you asshole! You think I’d spend all this time chasing you if I didn’t care?!”

“Kacchan…” The man sighed and slowly propped himself back up. “There’s nowhere safe for me to go.”

Bakugou ignored the man and looked at his watch, noting the sun would have fully set by now. It might best to stay another night while he came up with a plan. “Tch, I’ll figure something out. In the meantime, behave or I will just knock you unconscious.”

“Fine, I won’t fight. But I do need to feed tonight.” Midoriya lifted his arm to flash the cuff. “Guess you’ll have to help me.”

“Why? You feeling the urge?” Midoriya nodded yes. “How can you tell?”

Midoriya thought about the answer for a minute before responding. “It’s like feeling dehydrated, maybe, at least in the beginning, but then it starts to get painful if I don’t feed it. I guess think of it like if you don’t eat for so long your stomach hurts— that’s what it’s like.”

“Sounds like it sucks.”

Midoriya snorted. “Understatement. It takes control of my mind by that point, almost as if it’s a survival instinct to protect itself.”

“Well, mister know it all. You ever heard of this kind of quirk before?”

“No,” Midoriya shook his head.

“Do the vestiges have anything to say about all this?”

Again, Midoriya shook his head.

Bakugou groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter for the current situation.” He looked up again fixing a stare at his friend. “So, what do you do to get the blood?”

[andyet-here-we-are]

I Would Get Into Millions of Accidents Just to See You, Chapter 1

For @wolfgeralt as a little ‘thank you’ for his stunning art -which I really adore, you can see it here: (x)

and for @hecky-heckicravedeath (x) who gave me inspiration for this fanfiction. Also Thanks @3tothe1 for being my beta. (You’re such a sweetheart, and I love you so much)

Anyway,  I hope you like it, my dear Witchlings! 💛

I present you: NURSE GERALT!  

Chapter 1 Word Count: 2461

ao3: (x) 

Chapter 2 Tumblr link: (x) Chapter 3 Tumblr link: (x) Chapter 4 Tumblr Link: (x)

When Geralt arrives for his shift, still feeling exhausted from yesterday, he has no idea what’s waiting for him at the hospital. His days are never too ordinary because you never know what you’ll come across.

That’s a part of being a nurse.

But he could never think that one of the not-so-famous musicians, his daughter, Ciri adores, was going to have a terrible traffic accident—which somehow isn’t on the news—and end up in the hospital he works at.

He already knows his name since Ciri just can’t stop talking about how nice he is and how he sounds like an angel. To the point where sometimes Geralt wants to say “Okay he is wonderful, so kind and lovely and you really love him, I get it. Can you please just keep eating your pasta? Yes Ciri, yes, I know that pasta is his favorite food, you say that every time we’re having pasta. ”

Geralt isn’t there for his intake, apparently, the accident happened last night, and the musician was badly injured.

Jaskier has a ruptured spleen that caused internal hemorrhaging, which the doctors were able to repair. He also has a mild concussion, a couple of broken ribs, along with some cuts and a broken leg which he is probably going to need another surgery for.

Since the other nurse who was responsible for Jaskier last night,  is having some family issues and has to take his annual leave, Jaskier is in Geralt’s care now, they let Geralt know.

When Geralt is home, Ciri starts talking about how Jaskier hadn’t posted anything in two days, and how worried she is since Jaskier had promised them a new song, “He never breaks his promises,” she says.

Geralt thinks that keeping the fact that the young man was in a traffic accident to himself is a better idea.

***

Three days later, when Geralt cracks open the door to Jaskier’s room, the man still sounds asleep, his chest rising and falling with every slow breath he takes as the morphine keeps dripping into his system. It’s enough to keep him subdued, if not completely pain-free.

He checks his IV, and takes a few notes onto his clipboard, right before the musician comes to, his eyelids fluttering.

And damn if he hasn’t got the most breathtaking eyes he has ever seen in his whole life. Even when they lack the spark Geralt is sure they normally hold in them.

Jaskier is confused, of course. So he tells him about what has happened and clears his throat before speaking.

“Mr. Pankratz, I need to take your vitals and then give you some medicines for the pain, may I have your arm?”

“Hell you can, might as well take my poor heart that seems to be beating for—”  Jaskier flirts and coughs before he has the chance to finish, his voice is low and hoarse from lack of use.

Geralt makes no comments, and fills a cup of water for him instead, helping him to drink it. He is surprised by the musician’s flattering words, and he is also glad that he is good at keeping a neutral expression on his face.  

“…you.” He finishes. “Well, I would normally use the ‘am I dead and in Heaven?’ cliché, but, see,” Jaskier keeps talking after sipping some water “I’m in too much pain to think that I’m in heaven. You sure look like a sexy angel or something though.  Ohoho, are you gonna give me a sponge bath, too? Just wondering. If so, I’m totally down for it. Just so you know.”

Geralt can’t help but snort at that a bit, “Do you always talk that much?”

“Maybe it’s you who doesn’t talk enough, you ever considered that?” Jaskier teases, and then suddenly his whole playful expression changes like he remembered that he had left his cat on the stone, and he frowns to himself, “Oh God, three days you said? Shitshitshit,” he drops his head back onto his pillows in a way too dramatic manner, covering his eyes with one hand “I had promised them a new song,” the nurse hears him mumbling “I am such an idiot.”

Jaskier truly seems so disappointed in himself that Geralt feels the need of comforting him. The man had a traffic accident, for crying out loud!

And yet, he is concerned for his fans because he couldn’t keep his promise, rather than being worried for himself.

Not even an hour has passed since he had the chance to talk to the man, but he already can see why Ciri likes this guy that much.

“It’s not your fault that some idiot decided that running a red light and colliding with your car was a good idea,” Geralt says “don’t beat yourself up over it.”

Jaskier still seems disappointed, but he mumbles a silent 'thank you’ before he says “ you may be right, but I promised them.”

***

Days go like this: Jaskier keeps flirting with him every time Geralt steps into his room to check on him and give him his medicines. Geralt never flirts back because of obvious reasons, but he never tells him to stop either, even though he does judge him with his eyes now and then.

The moments Geralt can spend with the man is the most he feels happy at work.

He can’t even deny that at this point.

Ciri keeps asking him why he looks happier nowadays, and why he suddenly became clumsy all of a sudden because he loses his focus easily.

“Who is the reason behind your smile? I gotta know! C’mon, it’s not fair! Don’t leave me hanging like this!”  She insists, being the stubborn girl she is, and after a second she grins like cheshire cat “You’ve finally met someone special?”

“…I might have, pumpkin”  is his answer. “I might have.”

***

He doesn’t know why, but Geralt doesn’t like Thursdays. Well, it’s probably because everything bad has ever happened to him seemed to happen on Thursdays, usually.

And sadly, this Thursday is no exception.

Hank, a seventy years old man who has been here for more than a month, and who has been very ill passes away. Who he had become really close with and really cared about.

Jaskier catches his change of mood when he goes to check on him and simply says, “Talk to me. I mean, you don’t have to. But you look like you could use a friend. And I’m so bored of watching television anyway.”

So Geralt talks to him.

He talks about Hank, about how wise he was. He talks about how he has been working here for years but how it still affects him so much when someone passes away. How he doesn’t suppose to feel a connection with his patients, how terrible of a nurse that makes him.

“That makes you human, not a terrible nurse.” Jaskier assures him, his voice as gentle as always. “Believe me. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Geralt isn’t sure when Jaskier’s hand finds his hand as they talk, and when his dainty looking, long fingers link with his; but the intimate gesture feels so natural, so right that he just lets him.

***

Jaskier has surgery for his right leg the next day, and it’s not the first time that Geralt hears his patients saying the most ridiculous things after their surgery, thanks to the sedation.

But oh boy, if Jaskier doesn’t take it to a whole new level.

“Maaarry meee, my dear nurse!” the musician yells, “we could make the most adorable babies together! One of them would have my voice, one of them would have your weirdly sexy brooding or something. One of them would have my…. my tongue?  Or eyes? Cheeks! Yes, cheeks. And the other would have your lips while the other would have your… DIMPLE! I love that cute dimple you have on your jaw! ”

Geralt laughs, because how can he not?

“That’s biologically impossible.” the nurse says. “Also how many kids you have in mind? That was awfully a lot.”

“Hmm, let’s see. Marie, Duchess,” Jaskier starts to count with his fingers, and he looks so damn adorable that Geralt finds it extremely hard to not just reach out and ruffle his hair. “Thomas O'Malley, Toulouse, and Berlioz. So, six!”

“It’s five, actually,” Geralt tilts his head to the side slightly and corrects him with a fond, little smile. “So… you’re planning to name your kids after The Aristocats?”

“Our kids, mind you. And I’m not straight, love. You can’t expect me to do the math, I don’t make the rules.”

Love.

He just called Geralt ‘love’

“He probably calls ‘love’ everyone,” the nurse reminds himself and swallows, not being able to focus on what Jaskier says for a minute or so. “You’re no special.”

But the way Jaskier utters that one word, makes him feel like he is lying to himself.

When he can finally focus on what he is saying,  Jaskier is still talking about the same topic.

“…and you should be grateful that I’m not planning to name them after Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles! If we’re gonna have more than six, I’m totally doing that though.”

“Why Mr. Pankratz, we’re not even married yet. But I already don’t have a say in anything, it seems.” Geralt can’t help but tease with the young man in return.

Jaskier waves one hand weakly: “Don’t take this as my marriage proposal though, I’m better than that. If I were to propose to you I would do that in the most wonderful way. Roses, candles, and everything. Even fireworks.”

Geralt remains silent, so Jaskier talks again: “And ya know, joking aside, actually we couldn’t name them unless we adopted them when they were babies.”

“Why do you want so many kids?” the nurse wonders, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, growing up in a foster care system will do that to you,” Jaskier lets out a loud and somehow cute yawn.

Geralt knows that he wasn’t even supposed to ask that, and he shouldn’t even listen to Jaskier rambling about his life, which he won’t even remember after the sedative effect wears off.

But he can’t suppress his need of knowing more about him.

He just can’t.

“Wanna adopt as many kids as I can, so I can provide ’em a life filled full of love and everything they deserve. All the beautiful things in the universe. All the things I couldn’t have when I was a kid.” Jaskier admits, and his words make Geralt’s heart clench in his chest.

At that moment, Geralt is sure that he is falling so hard for the musician.

Maybe he already did.

“Don’t think that I’m not gonna name our dogs after them though. Or cats.” Jaskier mumbles. He looks like he is just two seconds away from falling into a deep sleep.

Right when he moves to leave, Jaskier grabs his hand as he softly, sweetly whispers, “Geralt, don’t leave me.” And he sounds so vulnerable, so weak that the nurse’s heart skips a beat in his chest.

Geralt would love to say that he doesn’t leave all night, but he has other patients he needs to check on, so he leaves.

But not before staying for five minutes as he holds the musician’s hand, and watches him fall asleep. Nobody needs to know, right?

***

The next day, Jaskier doesn’t remember most of the things he had said last night, but somehow he remembers that Geralt had stayed for a while.

That day, feeling guilty about yesterday, Geralt talks about his life.

“It’s only fair,” he thinks.

He talks about Ciri, and he lets the musician know how crazy his daughter is about him. That makes Jaskier smile at him warmly, but then again, his smile is always like this.

Warmer than the sun on a hot summer day.

Blushing, Jaskier hesitantly says that he would love to meet her. His big, baby blue eyes seem to be searching for something in Geralt’s eyes.

And Geralt understands that he finds whatever he was searching for when Geralt nods and says: “We would love that, too.”

***

“Look! Jaskier finally posted something!” Ciri says one morning while they are having breakfast, well, more like Ciri is having breakfast, and Geralt is just busy with his coffee since he is in a hurry.

“Hmm?”

“Wait, was this an ‘I’m Actually Curious About What You Have To Say’ type of ‘hmm’? Because it definitely didn’t sound like your usual ‘I Don’t Care’ type of ‘hmm’. Nice! That might be the first time you actually seem curious about what I have to say about him.” Ciri smiles, and lets out a sad, little “Oh.” After reading whatever Jaskier had posted.

“He says that he is having some minor health issues…”

Geralt huffs at that.

‘Minor health issues’

If what he had gone through is “minor” to Jaskier, Geralt doesn’t even want to imagine what “major health issues”  mean in his dictionary.

But he is sure that the only reason why the musician says “minor” is because he doesn’t want to worry his fans.

“‘I am in good hands though—I mean it, really really good hands—so no need to worry. Love you all, xoxo’ Hmm… I hope it’s nothing serious.”

The nurse looks at his daughter’s phone screen and the excessive amount of winking face emojis after ‘really really good hands’ part catches his attention.

He tries to hide his smile behind his black coffee mug.

And luckily, he succeeds.

***

A few days later, it’s time for Jaskier to be discharged from the hospital. And Geralt feels a bit sad about it, to be honest. Because he is already used to having the young man around.

To his never-ending flirting and jokes, to his smile, to his everything.

But the good thing is, that means that he will be no longer his patient.

Jaskier gives him his number before he leaves, and tells Geralt to call him whenever he is free.

“I’m totally getting into another accident and make sure they bring me here if you don’t call, Mr. Handsome Nurse,” the musician jokes in a low voice.

“We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Geralt smiles. “You can be sure that I’ll call, Jaskier. And we can even have some pasta maybe.”

It’s the first time that Geralt calls him by his first name, and the nurse can see how the other man’s smile widens when he does that, eyes sparkling.

“Wow. Now I have no doubt about how much Ciri talks about me,“ scratching the back of his head, Jaskier chuckles shyly, and it’s music to his ears. Ciri is right. He does sound like an angel.

"Till we meet again, Geralt. Till we meet again.”

[perahn]

Palliative Nursing

One of my patients died today.

I first met Arthur a couple of months ago. I’m a community and palliative nurse primarily, but I was covering a shift on the ward. He’d been transferred over from another hospital. I never really worked out why, since he was only coming in overnight before being discharged home.

When I came in, his wife Anne was trying to comfort him. He had only received his diagnosis recently – prostate cancer, which had spread to his bones and his brain – and he desperately wanted to go home. He was also frustrated to the point of tears at the way his body had betrayed him. He had been strong and independent, and now he was tired and weak. The struggle to find the words he wanted left long gaps in his speech, and so often neither Anne nor I could help.

He wanted to die. He wanted – he could convey that much – to leave the world ‘with dignity’; if it was time for him to go, he wanted to go. And Anne sat there, and tried to soothe and calm him. He wanted euthanasia, and he could not have it, and I was never sure whether she wanted that for him, or if she wanted to hold onto him as long as she could.

The next time I saw him, he was home again. They’d been in the process of selling their house and downsizing, but Anne cancelled it. So Arthur came home to a warm, sunlit room with an en suite, and they moved their bed down into it. He was a different man when I saw him at home. The words that had deserted him in hospital came more easily, and he smiled, and he could enjoy food again. By about my third or fourth visit – I was seeing him twice a week at that stage, just making sure he had everything he needed to be comfortable at home – he was telling Anne it was a pity all their sons were married and he couldn’t have me in the family.

He had time and support. His daughter Eden moved in for a while; his son and grandchildren live next door. The weather turned warmer, and he sat out in the garden. The family gathered around him, and they took a photo. He was, for the most part, free of pain. You don’t expect that once it gets into the bones, but I am grateful for it.

There is a distance, and there has to be. You aren’t there for every step of the journey, and you come into it as a stranger. Anne woke every time he did, and walked him to the toilet. She coaxed him to eat, helped him use the walker, rubbed ointment into his swelling legs and reminded him to elevate them. She nursed him, and so did Eden. I… stepped in for the other parts. The paperwork. The questions you never think about until someone you love is dying. How do you, and what if, and when, and what do we do about -?

There were changes, last week. Words began to slip away again, and sitting up grew harder. I asked Anne if they wanted a bedside commode for him, so she didn’t have to walk him all the way to the toilet three times a night. She said no, that the exercise was good for him, and they were managing. Then she rang the next day, told me he’d slipped while trying to sit on the toilet, and maybe they’d better have one after all. So my boss Sam and I got one out to their house on Friday. Eden followed me out to the car. She didn’t want to ask in front of Anne, but what needed to happen if, or when, Arthur died? Who did they call, what did they do about his body?

It was a long weekend, and we had the Monday off. Anne rang Tuesday morning. Arthur had significantly deteriorated over the weekend, she told us. She and Eden couldn’t get him up, and they’d been nursing him in bed. His painkillers didn’t seem to be helping as much, because he was restless, turning in bed and plucking at his clothes. My boss covered two of my patients so I could go see Arthur as soon as possible.

Anne was curled up beside him in their bed. Other family members were gathered around, and one of them left the bedside so I could go talk to him. “Here’s Katherine,” Anne said, and Arthur opened his eyes and reached out his hand. He tried to say something as I took and held it. I know he recognised me, even if I couldn’t understand what he wanted to say.

Later I came back with a syringe driver. We use these a lot in palliative care: little machines that very slowly administer a dose into the subcutaneous tissue over 24 hours. Usually, like this one, they’re loaded with morphine, for the pain; midazolam, for agitation and the restlessness that comes over the body in dying; and metoclopramide, for the nausea the morphine can cause. They’re smaller, simpler, and less invasive than an IV line, or repeatedly sticking someone with needles. Arthur didn’t even flinch as I put the first line in, or the second one. The second one is for top-up doses; I used it immediately to give him a loading dose, then taught Eden and her brother how to access it if they needed to give him more pain relief. I left an envelope with the verification of death form at the house.

I left the house not long before seven pm. According to the roster, I’d been supposed to finish at 4:30. That was all right.

The syringe driver runs over 24 hours, but I stopped in to see Arthur and his family around 11am. Arthur was lying on his side. Eden had needed to give him some extra, and so had Anne, but on the whole he’d had a good night, they told me. He didn’t respond this time, although he called out hoarsely a few times. I gave him another top-up, and told Anne I’d be back to change the syringe driver once I’d spoken to the doctor.

I discussed how much top-up Arthur had needed with the doctor, and then one of the other nurses made up the new syringe with me, and my boss covered a patient appointment I had, and I went out to Arthur around 2pm.

Eden was in the front room, continuing to work from home; Anne was on the lounge with a laptop. Arthur had been so peaceful and quiet, she thought she’d get the laundry and a few other things done. Anne and I went in, and she told him I was here to change the medicine, and she’d help him roll over so I could reach. She reached out and touched him, and then she turned to look at me.

“He isn’t-” and she backed away.

I checked the carotid artery.

“I’m sorry,” I said to Anne. “He’s gone.”

And then I held her as she wept.

She was so devastated. She hadn’t been there for him as he died. He’d been alone and she’d been sitting outside, and she hadn’t known.

And it doesn’t matter how many hours she lay beside him, how poorly she slept, half-listening and ready to help the moment he stirred, night after night, the literal around-the-clock nursing she gave him, the long years they lived together. It doesn’t matter how hard, physically and emotionally, it is to support someone you love dying at home, how much she and Eden had gladly sacrificed to give him what he wanted. It doesn’t matter how many people do die alone, waiting for the moment everyone’s back is turned to slip away in privacy. None of that softens the pain, not in a moment like that.

I pray they will eventually.

I got Eden for her, slipped out to the car to get what I needed, and to give them time to themselves.

They had him cuddled between the two of them when I came back, and eventually they chose to leave the room so I could do the necessary things.

I rolled him onto his back, heard the faint groans. Wiped his mouth and crusted eyelids. Removed the lines I’d put in yesterday, straightened his shirt. I was talking to him, every step. It’s just something you find yourself doing. “Sorry, Arthur. I’ve just got to roll you over and get these lines out. I’m sorry if this hurts...”

It’s… not an easy thing, verifying a death. I had thought he was dead the moment I came into the room, and I’d checked for a pulse. Even so, part of you almost refuses to be sure. His hands were so cold, but his throat was still warm. I couldn’t feel a pulse, but maybe that just meant I was doing it wrong (I knew I wasn’t, but what if? What if I had hurt these people so much, and I was wrong, and I had to go tell them he was still alive, and however would they cope with that?) I put a stethoscope to his unmoving chest and listened for a heartbeat, or for breath. I couldn’t hear anything, but I was breathing very loudly myself in my mask – would I hear it? Wasn’t his chest moving, just the tiniest bit? I had to rub his sternum very hard to see if there was any movement away from the stimulus, and I apologised.

Then I lifted his eyelids. ‘Fixed and dilated pupils’ is what the form says, clinical terminology that is accurate as far as it goes. What it means is that you look into those eyes, and they are still and glassy, and the soul behind them is gone.

I could doubt the rest of the tests. Not that one.

I went out, told them I was finished. We talked; I told them what an amazing job they’d done, how proud they should be, all the things that don’t mean anything to them right at the moment, but might later. I stepped into another room to ring the doctor and let her know. I filled out the verification of death form and hid it away in a plain white envelope. Eden rang her brother, and again we went over the final things to be done. Here’s the form. Ring the funeral directors when you’re ready for them to come pick Arthur up. There’s no rush. Call anyone else you think will want to come say goodbye. Give yourselves as much time as you need.

Eden’s brother arrived. She’d sent him a text to come over, but hadn’t wanted to say why. So he came striding in with a cheery ‘hello’, and Eden said ‘He’s gone’, and she choked, and he crumpled. He went softly into the room where Anne was lying beside Arthur, stroking his face and murmuring to him. Too softly; he touched Anne’s arm and she jumped.

Clearly despite herself, Eden laughed.

“I thought for a moment,” Anne said, “that he’d fooled us all. That he was just pretending.”

Which hurt, and still hurts, and I shall remember.

When I left them, it was with the three of them clustered around the bed, the son trying not to cry. They didn’t need me, but I’d drop by in a couple of days if they wanted, I said quietly.

Anne would like that, she told me, and she thanked me for all I’d done. That Arthur had always been glad to see me. “He had his favourite nurse,” she added. “Beautiful Katherine, he said.”

I don’t understand the depth of grace that lets you say something like that in the midst of such terrible grief, but I shall remember that, too.

The last time I made a post a bit like this, I had a little bit of a moral to share. I don’t, this time. I am writing because it helps me process, and I shared it because…well, I still think we need to talk about dying, I suppose, and this is a way to add to the conversation. Because it is such an honour and extraordinary privilege to be a palliative nurse. Because some of you might, like my patients and their families, have questions you don’t know how to ask. Because it touched me, and it might do the same for you. Because love and grief and service to each other are such essential parts of our humanity.

Eternal rest grant unto him, o Lord, and may perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

Amen.