#ive missed periods cause of my weight before

[prunpplee]

Do you think that I'd still hate my body

If I grew wings and disappeared into the sky?

I don't think anybody's words would matter

When I could swoop down and kill them from thirty feet high

a vibe

[kosmicdream]

Ode to Togashi

Stream of conscientious incoherent rant about manga/hxh below, read at your own discretion as i AM NOT EDITING IT: 

While I’m still in the mood to talk about art and what i love about manga, i feel like i wanted to share (some) of my thoughts on why HXH continues to be one of my favorite stories. Togashi’s writing method continues to be probably like, the closest one that i aspire to replicate in my own work, partly because i love to see how much it builds and learns from itself, reinvents itself, ect. But i DONT think Hxh is perfect, even if i wouldn’t change anything about it or togashi’s writing style. 

When I first got into HXH, it was actually through the old anime. I watched that all the way thru before reading the manga, and when i was watching the anime it was during a period of time when i hated all shonen. I still kinda hate “the shonen” model, despite loving many shonen series, but something abt HXH pulled me in to give it a try and i was quickly hooked. I of course, already had experience with YYH growing up as a teen but i somehow missed HXH completely until my early 20s. I had already started trying comics by then, but it was EGGSHELLS and i had not started FFAK at that point.

HXH almost lost me at greed island my first round, ngl. I appreciate it now, andi still think the set up for Greed island was amazing but the arc itself.. I was not into it, mostly cause i think the villain for it was kinda lackluster and i didn’t really think the world of greed island had a strong design sense. There was interesting aspects, i enjoyed Bisque as a new character and she helped carry a LOT of the weight of that arc for me, but it was kind of a drag. IDK if it was also partly the adaptation for that arc, but i didn’t enjoy it much more in manga form either. It just went a bit faster. However, the end of that arc and the final fight was surprisingly brutal and enjoyable, which made me optimistic and helped me to continue. And then the chimera ant arc was the first arc i read ONLY manga first and i truly fell in love with it, obsessed even. That arc, as many readers already know, is probably like the closest thing to FFAK’s “Parent” for inspiration. Obviously, FFAK draws from a lot of things (Trigun is probably the 2nd strongest influence on FFAK) but it isn’t quite the same as HXH. As MUCH as i adore hunter x hunter part of me does cringe and laugh that like, in the end, a battle shonen manga still excited me that much but like.. As MUCH as i clearly love battle manga.. I am so over them. You know? Who cares. IMO. No matter how great it looks, i probably am never going to be more impressed (visually) with an action scene than the ones Yukito Kishiro drew. He did it, He won the action manga game to me. I have no idea what’s actually happening in Gunnm most of the time but as far as the visual spectacle of it all, it literally doesn't even make sense how good his action scenes look. (I could talk a lot about Gunnm too, but i’ll save that for another time IG) Like how the fuck does someone draw that good and it just made everything else by comparison just like, not.. Matter too much to me anymore. Which is great, because I can then look at other aspects for a work rather than just being drawn in by the visuals. And stuff. 

Where i’m at now.. I dont want to read another, even if its drawn well and .. the powers are SO powering or whatever. And i love to draw action scenes, they’re really hard and i still have so much more to go to learn about them. At best, I think im okay at them. But even when i work, i just get tired now so i cut them down a lot. Thats partly because i jsut dont have the time to draw fighting scenes. So i kind of feel embarrassed by a lot of them that ive made, i know I was lazy. Lazy in a way I’m not proud of the result, but im proud of the compromises to get the shit done. Which is the most important think in the end, to juggle your own expectations and limitations with the timeframe you have to get somewhere you need to go. I will still read more action/battle manga in the future.. But im in no rush. And im certain, for the most part, they arent going to teach me anything I don’t already know. They might entertain me and i might be like “..huh!” at a few things, but my expectation for them to do more than that is pretty low. I’m delighted when im wrong, but i cannot deny the apathy towards them is super deep. Togashi to me, is one those authors, that makes me really wake up and realize there’s still a lot of unexpected territory out there. 

He writes like an enthusiastic newbie, not a seasoned old timer that he is, who basically helped popularize the “tournament arc” and “dark edgy shonen” stuff with YYH. All his characters in HXH are geniuses, which is kind of a valid critique and can be annoying as hell too… Id say most readers dont really get how the hell nen works, yet somehow the story still functions so well in its character motivations/conflicts that it kinda doesn’t matter too much that.. It doesnt really make sense? We have to relearn what nen is basically every arc. Its not gonna stick. And yet im just so excited every time it updates and i really want to know what he wants to do with his new arc, if he is going to be able to do it. Nen to me is like a fake fantasy science that is tangible and real yet also you’re in a dream and you try to read the letters on a page, and you can read it but if you stare hard at it. The words are just blurs, or it doesn’t really connect. I like that there’s this malleable illusion that it functions in a way, that is concrete, but it isn’t really. But its enough that i can believe that for the characters, who are also not real, it is real for them. 

The fact that i can talk about “”””NeN””” like this to me is essentially why it becomes the perfect shonen to me because it takes itself so seriously, so genuinely, yet it also is nonsense but not in the way where its like.. Irony poisoned, “gotcha” twists? Im sick of all these subverting shonens that arent subverting anything. Or even just the attitude that is what makes a good shonen these days is to subvert, diminish, laugh, ect at shonen while completely stepping inside the same footprints again and again. So much manga just wants to be dragon ball, but dragon ball was good cuz it was just a fun, well drawn action manga that wasn’t trying to BE dragonball. It was just dragon ball. (maybe now its trying to be dragon ball, which is why i dont care about whatever sequel attempt we’re at now, but that’s another story.) Its fun to me that i dont know if Gon is gonna come back in Hxh. like, maybe he will and his powers will be restored ect.. But at the time of writing this, and for YEARS we just.. Have the main pals of the manga separated. Their friendship has changed. There’s a great shift in it. Gon met his dad, who sucks, but that kind of was his main quest. Sure, we have kurapika’s arc, and many other routes to go - but in a weird way HXH is done and it isn’t done at the same time. I’m just like, what are we going to do now. TOGASHI said flat earth real and was like, the other half of it is UNEXPLORED AND SO DARN DANGEROUS and theres SOM BIGGGGG DINOSAURS THERE and it just feels so gleefully like.. You’re on the swingset and some kid just keeps having to up the stakes but in the most kid-like way possible. For serious. But Togashi’s 58. But he’s right too, the dark continent IS so cool.. I just imagine leorio going there and getting so sick and shitting mutant diahrea and dying the SECOND he sets foot there and its awesome. That’s NOT what’s going to happen but im delighted at the opportunity.

This is the point where I’m writing something when i take a pause and wonder how the hell i got here. I have skimmed the above written text. Whatever point i think i was going to make, wasn’t made, but i expressed.. good feelings here. This is how i write. I typed all of that in about 15 minutes with no idea where it was gonna go. Part of the process now would be to go back, organize, edit, ect. To *TRY* to make it a little more comprehensible, as with all writing. Believe it or not i have gotten better at editing my own work. But the true nature of it all is still the same. And its the same in the way that i dont want, no matter how much i improve at my craft, i dont want to lose that enthusiasm i feel when i reach 58. I think that would be such a triumph, id be so lucky to be able to muster that energy. When I think of togashi, i think he has that. He has that real artistic spark that no amount of time/experience has ever diminished and that’s why i think he’s truly my personal favorite mangaka.  (maybe tezuka too)

[kookingtae]

falling into you (pt. 8) PREVIEW

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7

→scenario: Jungkook’s innocence is like a breath of fresh air in your wild life, and though you know you’re toxic for him, you just can’t seem to stay away.

→genre: college au, slow burn, mutual pining, shy/nerd jk + bad girl oc (mature themes)

→a/n: so i’m not finished with pt 8 yet, since it’s such a climactic chapter it’s taking a bit longer than i anticipated unfortunately BUT i dont want u guys to think ive forgotten about it!!! i know u all are waiting so patiently, and i cannot thank you enough from the bottom of my heart <3 i hope this preview keeps you excited for what’s to come!

Jungkook could never face Y/N again.

God, how could he, knowing that he’d not only finished in five minutes like a pubescent teenager, but also in his pants while she was on top of him?

Embarrassment didn’t even begin to describe the mortification he felt. He’d never wanted the earth to swallow him whole as much as he did in that moment. Sure, he was aware of his slight social anxiety, the way he was constantly looking to bolt from uncomfortable situations—but this was different entirely. This was new territory for him; he’d never done anything remotely sexual with someone else, period, much less with the girl who hung the stars, moon, and sun in his eyes. What was he supposed to do? There was nowhere to escape to in his own bedroom, no running away from his problems that made him uncomfortable. No, he had to stand there with his head down and his crotch dripping wet while he practically begged her to leave. He had never been so ashamed of himself. He had never felt so pathetic.

But then Y/N surprised him like she never failed to do: she’d given him reassurance, another kiss even, while telling him that she actually enjoyed the experience—went so far as to say it was the best in her life. Now he knew she was lying to spare his feelings. Of all the men Y/N had been with, there was no way a virgin cumming untouched in his pants was the best of them. She was cruel to make him believe otherwise, to give him false hope.

He wouldn’t allow himself to think any differently. He couldn’t allow himself to get hurt.

Which was why he made it his mission to avoid her at all costs—something he’d gotten very good at over the past few months, and the past few weeks, specifically.

But in the same way he’d learned from the patterns of her daily routine and used them as a means to remain hidden, she’d also learned his and utilized them to her advantage as well. It was the only explanation as to how he was turning a corner inside the art building (about to take the rear exit, since she usually waited for him out front) and suddenly she was standing right in front of him.

He instantly skidded to a halt, heart rate shooting to astronomical levels and eyes widening on their own accord. “Y-Y/N,” he stuttered out involuntarily, the sight of her causing every single detail of their time spent together to come rushing back to him like a tidal wave ready to wipe him out.

As if he needed another excuse to think about the moment they shared that had changed him forever, about the way her moans sounded in his ear and her body felt on his lap and the way she touched his cheek, his neck, the way her lips felt on his skin, god help him—

Already he could feel the beginnings of a blush start to rise to his suddenly hot cheeks, and he cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other to keep from springing yet another boner in front of her.

He slid his books in front of his waist, just in case.

While she usually approached him with the natural ease of self-confidence and charm, today she seemed worried, unsure. She chewed at her lower lip—something he didn’t think she really ever did, as he would certainly remember the way it stirred within him—and looked up at him beneath delicate lashes that framed her eyes.

He didn’t have it in him to keep from outright staring at her beauty.

“I… I missed you,” she finally murmured, and he felt the breath physically whoosh from his lungs to join his butterfly-filled stomach all the way at the floor.

It had been a few days since he’d last seen her, since she’d been in his room that night where they opened up about their past and confessed how they truly felt about one another and shared the most life-altering moment he’d ever experienced. He missed her too, god he missed her. He missed everything about her the moment she left his side—would picture her face in his mind as soon as she left his field of vision. But for some reason unknown to him, she was too kind to him, spared his feelings despite knowing what little experience he had. There was no way he’d be able to satisfy a girl—mentally, physically, emotionally—who could have anyone she wanted. Perhaps she pitied him. Either way, if she wouldn’t put a stop to it, then he would.

Or so he’d try, but alas, nothing ever went according to his plans where Y/N was concerned. And here she was, three simple words mumbled into existence and he couldn’t even remember his own name, much less why he’d been trying to fight this.

She seemed to expect he would say nothing—either that or she’d grown used to his silence—because before he had enough sense in him to even think about responding, she was speaking again. “How have you been?”

The question was asked with deliberate, genuine curiosity and concern; she really wanted to know if he was okay, how he was handling things after what had transpired between them. And no matter how hard Jungkook tried to fight this, fight her, fight himself, he was only human.

And so he stopped fighting.

“I– I missed you too,” he breathed out, and it was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and relocated to his gut. He tensed at his confession, mentally berated himself for his words even though she’d been the one to say them first. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, what with the way his throat locked up.

Though the second he witnessed the smile that sprang to her tantalizing lips, he felt as light as a feather floating in the breeze.

“You did?” Her eyes lit up, sparkled under the fluorescent hallway lights that still managed to capture all of her beauty despite the unflattering lighting. He didn’t think it was possible for any scenery, not even that of a dull and stuffy university building, to make her appear any less breathtaking than she always was.

“I was so worried after I left last week,” she continued without prompt. The mention of his premature finish had him stiffening in dread, though she didn’t let enough silence fester between her words for the anxiety to claw its way up his throat. “I didn’t want you to beat yourself up. I’ve noticed you tend to be too hard on yourself sometimes.” She glanced up at him with the hint of a sheepish grin dancing on her lips.

Her expression said it all: that’s an understatement.

And this shocked him to his core, because she was absolutely right.

Just how well had she gotten to know him in their time spent together over the last few months? And how? And why?

The last question would always boggle him until the end of time; he would never understand why she was interested in him. Why was he the one she had feelings for, when she claimed she never had feelings for anybody? Though he supposed he could ask himself the same thing: why did he feel things for Y/N that he had never felt for anyone else in his life? And the answer was quite simple, really: because it was her.

He didn’t know what about himself was so special to make him stand out in her mind, and as a result he still couldn’t help but be skeptical, even after her confession. But it wasn’t like he had any choice in the matter on what to do with that skepticism—not when his heart kept leading him back to her.

At some point after her accurate description of the inner turmoil that’s been plaguing his mind, his mouth had fallen open slightly. He couldn’t hide the surprise from his face even if he tried; he was speechless.

Y/N gazed up at him, not seeming in any hurry to rush the conversation along, and for that he was grateful. He’d never met somebody so patient and understanding before—just another reason to make Jungkook’s heart flutter with endearment. And it was no secret to himself anymore that he yearned to be in Y/N’s presence for as long as possible whether he was aware of it or not.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know,” she continued as if she could read his mind, and that was when he realized the way his eyes avoided hers and the fact that his skin was the color of tomatoes must’ve been dead giveaways. “I meant it when I said that was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Jungkook balked, practically choking on his spit at her forward, shameless words. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way she spoke her mind so openly without any fear holding her back. She’d gone through so much in her childhood, in her life—Jungkook not even knowing the half of it, he’s sure—and yet she was still so strong and brave and everything he wasn’t. He couldn’t help but admire the person she was today, despite all the prejudice and judgment he’d held for her when they first met.

He realized now that he was too quick to judge her, to write her off based on rumors and first impressions. He realized now that he was too quick to do that to a lot of people. Just how long had he closed himself off from others based on his skewed, morally righteous perspective? His whole life, if he had to say.

The epiphany that she was physically prying open his third eye with a crowbar, that he was now self aware and changing for the better for her—for himself—hit him all at once.

It was the most frightening sensation of his life, the introvert in him wanting to crawl back into his shell where it was safe and comfortable and dull. But deep down he knew it was also for the best.

“W-why?” He heard himself asking before he knew what he was doing. “Why do you keep saying that?”

He had to know why she insisted on standing by her statement that his mishap was not only hot, but the hottest ever. Why did she insist on lying to him, on giving him false hope? She spoke her mind in every other situation, or at least that’s what he assumed; why did she insist on sparing his feelings in this incident? Was he really that pathetic? Did she pity him that much?

She simply blinked at him once, twice, before: “Because I really like you, Jungkook.”

As if in slow motion, you could visibly see his eyes expand to the size of saucers at your words.

You would’ve found the sight comical had the situation been any different. But the way he continued to disbelieve that you could have feelings for him, that you could be attracted to everything about him despite who he was, despite his inexperience—it made your heart break in your chest. You now knew from where this inferiority complex stemmed—he’d told you himself about his family situation—and if anything, it made you want to rebuild his confidence that much more. He needed to see himself the way you saw him.

But you also didn’t want to overwhelm him, either. And you were more than willing to walk that fine line with Jungkook no matter how long it took.

“So are we on for a study sesh tonight?” You continued nonchalantly, wanting to return things to normalcy for him as much as possible before he ran away mid-conversation as he’d done so many times before. You wanted to ease his self-doubt so he’d stop avoiding you—like he’d been doing the past few days—as much as possible.

Jungkook blinked as if trying to adjust from the whiplash of your subject-change. “U–uh… if you want?”

“Of course I want to,” you replied without missing a beat, not caring how desperate you seemed so long as he didn’t question where you stood. You took a step forward, unable to help the intangible, magnetic draw you felt to him as you gazed up at him beneath your lashes. “That is… if you want to.”

You watched in agony as a gulp slowly raked its way down his throat.

“I–” his voice was hoarse before he cleared his throat. “I uh, can’t tonight. I have to study for math.”

You weren’t even sure how one studied for math, but you weren’t about to question the expert. “That’s fine! We could… do it tomorrow?”

Jungkook chewed at his bottom lip, an action he always did when he was internally struggling with something before he finally nodded his head yes in a slow, hesitant manner. “N–not in my room though,” he added as an afterthought, and when your gaze snapped to his he had a pleading expression in his eyes.

A mix of emotions rolled through you. On one hand, you were horrified at the possibility that he thought the only reason you wanted to study again was so that you could get in his pants. Which—okay, you’re not going to lie, you would love to have a repeat of last week—but that definitely wasn’t why you wanted to see him. He meant more to you than just a means to get off, which was what you’d thought of flings in the past. You didn’t want him to be just a fling, though.

You didn’t want to think of the meaning behind that fact right now, either.

But on another hand, you understood where Jungkook was coming from. Maybe it was because you’d studied him enough over the past few months to learn some of his behavior (for once you finally saw the appeal of studying), so you knew that level of intimacy was probably extremely overwhelming for Jungkook and he needed a moment to step back. Hell, it was even overwhelming for you, and that was saying something. Never had your senses, your heart, your body, your soul been attacked like that with such an abundance of emotional pleasure, and you hoped with all your might that Jungkook was feeling the same—that that was the reason he needed a breather from being alone with you, and not the fact that he just didn’t want to be intimate with you.

Unless…

Oh god, had you misread the situation entirely? Had Jungkook hated everything about that night?

Suddenly you were feeling sick to your stomach. The thought of you misunderstanding his confession—or worse, him changing his mind completely—made you want to escape to a dark and desolate stairwell and cry in the hidden nooks of the windowsill again; the irony that not only would you be pulling a Jungkook by escaping mid-conversation, but that the stairwell was also the place the two of you had your first real conversation, wasn’t lost on you.

“M–my roommate is staying in, studying for finals.” The sound of Jungkook’s voice was like a breath of fresh air whooshing into your lungs after almost drowning underwater. You blinked out of your inner turmoil, focusing on him. “So he’ll be there, i–in my room, this whole week.”

And suddenly your heart was warming with relief, hope, appreciation, like flowers blooming in the spring after a torrential downpour. Just when you thought you had him figured out, this enigma of a boy continued to surprise you. It was usually easy for you to hide your emotions—you’d been doing so for years, always wore a mask around others so that they couldn’t see the real you—and yet somehow, Jungkook must’ve sensed them anyway. He sensed the doubt, the pain, the fear that you vowed never to cage you crawling up your throat and threatening to consume you whole, and he eased it. He didn’t want you to misunderstand him. He wanted to reassure you.

If anything, that was just a testament to how Jungkook had broken down your walls—how much you had let him in, how well he was able to read the emotions you wanted to keep hidden. Your mask had begun to break, the real you showing through the cracks, and Jungkook was still standing here. He hadn’t run away.

You fought the urge to grab him and slam your lips onto his.

“Not in your room, then,” is all you managed to breathe out beneath a fluttering smile.

[beauvibaby]

tough decisions — j.oleksiak

a/n: finally another pcos fic, this is based around my symptoms with it, hopefully it’s relatable to most of you!!

warnings: pcos, anxiety, surgery and mentions of covid

“Hey, babe, I should be there in ten.” Jamie answered cheerfully, assuming you were calling to see how far out he was. “I’m sorry, J.” You mumbled, hiding back a groan at the pain tightening in your lower stomach. “I just don’t feel good tonight, could we reschedule?” You asked, letting out a small wince as you leaned against the counter. “Of course, are you ok? You sound hurt.” The concern in his voice only made you feel worse, you managed to hum in response, “oh.” He mumbled into the phone, clearly picking up your message.

You two had been dating for a little over six months, and now that he thought of it, he couldn’t recall a single time when you were on your period and miserable like this. “Did you want me to come over? I can bring you dinner?” He offered, waiting hopefully for your response, “actually that would be great.” You sighed, wanting nothing more than to take a hot shower and hope the cramps got better once you ate. “I’ll unlock the door for you, I’m going to take a shower.” You told him, adding a soft goodbye and an I love you, he repeated the sentiment, a frown etched onto his face as he stopped to get dinner.

You had just slipped on some loose fitting clothes when you heard Jamie walk in the front door of your apartment, “Y/N?” He called out, smiling when you rounded the corner in a shirt of his that you had stolen “accidentally”. He held a bouquet of flowers in front of him along with a takeout bag from your favorite restaurant, “hi pretty girl.” He murmured when you pouted at him, “I love you.” You sighed, burying your face in his chest, “I love you too.” He chuckled lightly, kissing the top of your head. “Wanna eat something? It’ll make you feel better.” He offered, getting a huff in response, he took it as a yes and walked with you wrapped up in his arms to the table. “It hurts.” You explained with a hiss as you sat down in the chair, reaching for your food, he knew it took a lot for you to admit you were in pain, “is it always this bad?” He asked with furrowed brows, taking a bite of his food as you nibbled on yours, suddenly feeling nauseous and worried eating would make it worse. “When I get it, yeah.” You told him, going on to explain the issues you struggled with, the missed cycles, heavy cycles, cramps, all of it. If you could tell him you love him, you can tell him this.

He nodded as you spoke, absorbing the information you spit out, “m’sorry baby.” He sighed, not liking having to watch you like this. You shrugged, finally forcing some of your food down, some relief coming over you as you had something in your stomach. He didn’t push you any further as he saw the look in your eyes, the way you got quiet, he cleaned up the table, leaving you with your plate as you continued to take bites here and there. “I’m going to go change.” He kissed the top of your head before walking down the hall to your room where he knew he had a pair of sweatpants stashed away.

Well he was in there, he quickly googled what you had told him, pcos was on repeat in his mind so he wouldn’t forget it as he typed it into his phone, he read as much as he could, being sure not to be gone suspiciously long.

He got the gist of it, irregularities, heavier cramps, bleeding, mood swings, particularly sad ones.

Infertility. He pushed that one to the back of his mind, he wanted kids with you and while it was early to say that, he knew you two would figure it out when the time came.

When Jamie came out you were nearly half asleep at the kitchen table, your eyes were heavy and when you looked at him he could see the blankness in them. “You can go home, Jamie, I’m probably just going to go lay down.” You sighed, standing up and clearing your spot. “No, I wanna stay with you.” He answered instantly, giving you a soft smile as spun to face him. “Really?” You couldn’t help but grin, catching him off guard, “of course.” He rolled his eyes with a smile, out stretching his arms for you. “Good, sometimes I’m scared to be alone when it hurts so much.” You whispered up to him, pecking his lips when he leaned down to you. “You know you can call me whenever, even if I’m on a roadie. I’d call you back as soon as I saw it.” He explained to you as you pulled him along towards your bedroom, you nodded as a cramp started up.

“Come here.” He demanded gently, flopping down on the bed and pulling you with him, he adjusted you so you were laying on top of him. He lightly began massaging your lower back, feeling you relax into him. “That feels good.” You hummed, blindly running a hand through his hair, knowing he loved when you did that. He smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“J?” You asked after a while, he’d stopped rubbing your back once you didn’t feel the pain anymore, “yeah?” He shifted slightly, careful not to move you too much. He turned his head to meet your eyes where you were resting on his shoulder. “I left out one thing about it.” You sighed, shuffling yourself to be sitting up more, your boyfriend nodded, although he already knew what you were going to say, he wanted to let you say it. He rested his hand in your lap for you to play with. “Go ahead baby.” He assured you, when you met his soft caring eyes you couldn’t help but get emotional. “It’s super common for pcos to cause infertility and I know we’re not there yet but you deserve to know now, and if–“ you stopped to breathe and the tears started flowing. He rushed to sit up with you, “there’s no ifs, I’m here for the long haul, ok?” He assured you, cupping your face to keep you looking at him. “I already knew that baby, I looked it up while you were eating.” He added, frowning when you cried harder. “You looked it up?” You sniffled, “that’s so sweet!” You groaned, hugging him tightly. He sighed into your hair, “I think you need some sleep.” He laughed, feeling you nod against him.

“Goodnight baby.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead as he laid down with you, relishing in the small smile on your lips as you finally felt at ease for the night.

***

Time had passed, and you both fell into a routine, eventually moving in together once you hit the one year mark. And that was already some time ago.

But over the last few months you both had noticed a change in your symptoms and decided to schedule an appointment with your doctor.

***

Jamie got out of his truck the second he got your text that said you were coming out, due to covid protocols put in place, he was unable to come in with you for your appointment, which made you even more on edge than you thought it would. You figured you’d done it plenty of times before, but knowing that he couldn’t come inside was terrifying.

He watched the doors of the medical center with concern as he rubbed the back of his neck, when he saw you walk out, eyes darting to find him as you shoved your mask into your purse, tears already pricking the corner of your eyes. He stepped forward, taking his weight off the side of his truck as you spotted him, “hey, hey, Y/N.” Jamie mumbled as you wrapped your arms around him in a shaky hug. He felt his heart clench as you cried into his shirt, “baby, talk to me.” He spoke gently, pushing you back enough to meet your eyes. “Surgery.” You squeaked out, you both knew it was a possible outcome, having done the watch and wait method for over a year. He listened intently as you recited nearly everything word for word that the doctor had said.

***

That was three months ago, a simple surgery that plenty of people have and it goes smoothly, turned into a three month process, between the pre op, and the scheduling, and the ultrasounds.

But now, now it was finally time for you to go in, and you were terrified and calm all at once. You weren’t scared for the anesthesia, or for the actual removal of the cysts, you were worried that something would go wrong and they’d have to remove your entire ovary, granted that would still leave you with one, but that didn’t make it any less disheartening.

The doctors had come and made their rounds, each one going over everything with you, over the statistics and the possible complications, only furthering your anxiety. When your gynecologist came in, dressed in her scrubs and ready to have you wheeled off to the operating room, she could see the way you were panicking and squeezing Jamie’s hand tightly. “I know she’s going to be put to sleep, but is there something she can have to take the edge off?” Jamie asked as you looked over with a pleading face. “Yes, of course.” She came over and rested a hand on your shoulder, “you’re going to do great.” She assured you, giving Jamie a reassuring smile as well. The second she left the room you burst into tears, “no baby.” He gave you a soft smile, pulling his mask down to kiss your forehead, “it’s going to be ok, no matter what happens. You’re so tough.” He wiped under your eyes, looking over as the anesthesiologist came in, along with a nurse, “I’m going to give you something to take the edge off, you should feel it pretty quickly alright?” He explained, waiting until you agreed to connect it to your IV.

Jamie watched as you took a couple of deep breaths before looking at him with a much calmer face, he held in a chuckle, “you feeling it baby?” He asked you, giving you one last hand squeeze, you nodded lazily. “Yeah.” You answered, already feeling sleepy, he couldn’t help but smile at how girlish it was making you act, “alright, I love you.” He reminded you with one more kiss to the forehead as they popped the brakes off the bed, “I love you.” You repeated as you stared up at the ceiling, he could tell you had a kind of blank face under your mask. He was just glad to see you not freaking out, as he felt the anxiety transfer to him as they rolled you away, leaving him in the empty room to wait for you.

It felt like an eternity to him, as he knew the surgery was only supposed to take thirty or so minutes, but he also knew they wouldn’t tell him anything until you were already waking up in recovery.

That was nearly three hours later, and he literally jumped to his feet when the doctor came in. She assured him everything went as good as she expected, it was just more difficult to get too, nothing went wrong and you were coming out any moment. He thanked her repeatedly as he felt his heart rate settle, after staring at a wall for so long, he turned to Google and that only worsened his anxiety on why it was taking so long.

When they finally brought you in, you still hadn’t seen the doctor because you had been so out of it, so you instantly looked at him with wide eyes, more awake now. “You did good, baby, don’t worry.” He assured you, standing beside the bed once they locked it in place, the nurse smiled as she charted everything on the computer beside you. “Are you Jamie?” She asked with a giggle, making your face heat up under your mask, “yes.” He answered, not tearing his eyes off you as he could see the puffiness in them from your breakdown earlier. He laced his hand with yours, rubbing it reassuringly as you sighed in relief. “She was asking for you before she could even keep her eyes open.” The nurse told him, earning a soft chuckle from his mouth. “Sounds like her.” He hummed in agreement, tuning into the nurses words as she started telling you what you needed to do before they would let you go, both of them surprised when you did them instantly, the doctor signing off on your release as you seemed more than fit to go home in the care of Jamie.

He was more than attentive to your every need, almost to the point where you got annoyed, but you knew he meant well so you let him do whatever he thought you needed.

You were extremely grateful to have him here with you, knowing that just because you’d gotten it fixed this one time, doesn’t mean it won’t come back. He didn’t let you think like that for long as he brought you back to the present with a gentle kiss to your temple as you leaned on his chest. “S’proud of you.” He mumbled, even though you didn’t do anything, he knew it took a lot for you to make the decision to do this. You didn’t have to answer as you curled further into him, a silent thank you for everything.

taglist: @boqvistsbabe @tortito @2manytabsopen @heybarzy @barzysreputation @yzas-stuff @iwantahockeyhimbo

[roman-writing]

no great revelation (6/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 6,797

Summary: Jamie  just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day’s work on the Telosian  Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself  caught  up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

Aurthor’s notes: Please note the rating change

read it below or read it here on AO3

VI.

—

It was somewhat gratifying to know that Jamie wasn’t the only one who was absolute shit at meditation. 

“This is pointless,” said Dani with her eyes closed. 

“You’re telling me,” Jamie muttered, her eyes also shut.

They were both seated on the massive bed, cross-legged and facing one another. Jamie had ordered the ship’s computer to dim the lights, so that the room was dusky, the ship’s computer even going so far as to project pinpricks of light onto the high ceiling like a map of stars. Back when Jamie had been a padawan, the Jedi Masters used to do something similar back on Tython to encourage that e’er-elusive quest for inner peace. Jamie used to take the opportunity to take a quick nap while she pretended to meditate, but she couldn’t do that now because she was trying to set a good example or whatever. 

“Have you tried slowing down your breathing?” Jamie asked, keeping her eyes closed and straightening her shoulders a bit.

“This is just how I breathe.”

“Yeah, but have you tried slowing it down?”

“When I do that it just feels like I’m slowly drowning.”

“Okay, then what about relaxing your body one part at a time?”

“One -? What?”

“You know. Think about relaxing just the muscles of your face, and then move on to your shoulders, and so on.”

Dani huffed, and Jamie heard her shifting her weight on the bed before going still. All was silent but for the pattern of their breathing and Jamie’s heartbeat accompanying it like a percussion instrument. Sitting still. Being still. Thinking and doing nothing. In short, the most difficult activity for Jamie to attempt ever in her life. She would rather be back on Peter Quint’s flagship, dodging blaster fire. 

Okay, maybe not that far. But honestly sitting still for long periods of time really was her own personal hell.

The air whispered with a hint of cold, like standing in a room with a window open, the tendril of an icy draught threading its way inside. Jamie shrugged against it, but kept her eyes closed. It was only when the whisper of cold lifted to a prickle, when the sound of Dani’s breathing grew too shallow, that Jamie’s eyes flew open. 

Dani was still seated on the bed, eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowed, every exhalation through her nose a plume of white steam, shivering as if she were on the surface of an ice planet instead of in the warm safety of the luxury cruiser. 

Immediately Jamie grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Woah. Woah woah woah. Not that way.” 

Dani jerked as though she had just been shaken away from a deep sleep. Her eyes were on the edge of wild as she looked around the room, her breathing heavy and sharp and slowing when she remembered where exactly she was. 

“Oh,” she said with a guilty glance towards Jamie. “Did I - Did I do it again?” 

With a stroke of her thumb across the back of Dani’s cold hand, Jamie nodded. “Yeah.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean -” 

“I know,” Jamie murmured. “I know. Don’t worry. This time tomorrow, we’ll be on Tython, and we can get you a much better teacher than me.” 

Dani swallowed and nodded, but her expression was unsure, reluctant even. 

“You’ll like Hannah and Owen,” Jamie insisted. “If anyone can teach you, they can.”

“It’s not that. It’s just -” Dani turned her face away and exhaled. She chewed at her lower lip. “What if I’m caught? What if The Order doesn’t care that I was - that I’m not -”

Frowning, Jamie asked, “Not what?” 

“Good,” said Dani.

“What like -?” Jamie grinned. “Not good at the Force? ‘Cause they’d throw me out on my ass with nary a care if that were the case.” 

“No, that’s not what I -” Dani’s teeth were clenched, the muscles bunched up between the line of her neck and her jawline. “I killed people. I killed a Jedi. There’s already an investigation into his murder. And I can’t even channel the Force on my own without slipping into the Dark.”

Jamie shook her head while she listened. “You weren’t yourself. And once we find a cure for whatever is going on with you, then you can be trained properly.”

“What if we can’t?” Dani whispered. “What if there’s nothing to be done? What if I’ll always have this - this angry, empty, lonely thing haunting me?”

Jamie rocked Dani’s hand beneath her own gently. “We’ll find a way. We just need to take it one day at a time.”

Every muscle in Dani’s body seemed to be held taut. The tightness of her jaw. The flex of her hands. The bunching of her shoulders and the muscles all along her spine. Her hand was still cold under Jamie’s grasp, though the wintry edge had been blunted from the air around her. Jamie offered her an encouraging smile, but did not receive one in return. 

“We should get some sleep,” Jamie sighed, pulling away. “We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow -”

But Dani was scrambling to her knees and she was gripping Jamie’s hand tightly in her own before Jamie could fully let go. Her fingers trembled and her eyes were overbright, fixed and unblinking upon Jamie’s, holding her fast. “Not yet,” she said quickly. “Not - I want to feel it again. Please. I want to feel good. I want - I want to feel you.”

Jamie could already feel the thrum beneath her skin, the Force like a tether between them, on the brink, but there. As if Dani were reaching out then waiting for permission to drag her in. 

For the last four years, Jamie had been telling herself to keep her head down. Don't get involved. Mind her own bloody business. Don't do what she did back in ExplorCorps and paint a great big fuckoff target on her own back. And for four years, she had done exactly that. Telos IV and the AgriCorps were a fresh start, a good life, a simple, boring life. All it had taken to completely upend that life was a week of Dani Clayton.

Jamie nodded. Because it made relief sweep over Dani's face. Because it made Dani smile at her with that big smile that crinkled her eyes and creased her cheeks. Because it meant that connection snapped taut like a wire, drew them together into something more than the sum of their parts, more than this crude matter. Because it did indeed feel good. 

Each brief contact of the Force between them had remained discrete in the past. Stolen moments in which Jamie tried to coax Dani towards the Light on her own. Now, Dani gripped her hand to keep the connection alive, a current like static, like the movement between the inchoate and the flourishing, and it extended to the horizon. Dani's eyes dropped to her mouth and Jamie should've known this was coming, shouldn't have been as surprised as she was when Dani leaned forward to kiss her.

Bad idea, Jamie’s pesky little inner voice kept saying over and over like a mantra. Bad idea. This is a bad idea. A very very bad -

She should have pulled away, called this off, cut the line. Except Dani was warm and solid and groaning low into Jamie’s mouth, a sound that coiled heat in the pit of Jamie’s stomach. She cupped Dani’s cheek with one hand, allowed herself to welter for a lingering moment in the softness of Dani's mouth, in the texture of her jaw, before she pulled them apart just enough to breathe, their foreheads still pressed together.

"I want -" Dani murmured urgently, so close Jamie could taste the words on her lips. Her free hand had grasped Jamie's collar, rumpling the starched white fabric in her fist. "Can I -?"

"Yeah," Jamie breathed, throwing any vestigial scrap of self-preservation out the airlock.

Dani kissed her again with a grateful sigh. Jamie couldn’t remember ever being kissed quite like this. With singular focus. As if there was nothing else in the world for Dani to do but kiss her and pour everything of herself into it. 

"Kept thinking about this," Dani mumbled against her lips.

"Explains why you're so shit at meditation."

Dani huffed out a laugh and pressed her smile to Jamie's. She pulled at Jamie's collar shifting forward on her knees so she could lean over Jamie and turn the kiss from giddy glee to hungry in an instant. Jamie took off Dani's headband and threw it onto the bedside table beside the lightsabre so she could rake her hands through Dani's hair. With a tilt of her head, Dani opened her mouth and Jamie would've been appalled at her own weak whimper if she'd been in any state to care. She couldn’t. Not when Dani was kissing her like this. Not when Dani was pushing Jamie onto the bed and straddling her hips. Not when Dani was tugging the buttons of Jamie’s shirt free with trembling fingers. 

They didn’t break contact even when Dani paused to gasp at Jamie’s thigh pressing up between her legs. Always some section of skin was touching, so that the link remained, buzzing around in the back of Jamie’s head like an amplifier. Every movement, every sound an echo caught on a feedback loop, building to something impossible to miss. Jamie could feel the way Dani’s blood stirred in her veins, the way Dani was grinding down against her thigh, the way Dani was tugging the shirt down her shoulders and casting it aside, as though the sensations were her own, but muted — a phantom feeling. 

When she had imagined this  — and over the last few days on the luxury cruiser, Jamie had in great detail imagined this — it had always been a slow, coltish thing. All start and stop, lazy hesitance and careful exploration. In her mind, Dani was keen but skittish, wanting but indecisive. Something to do perhaps with the long glances sent in Jamie’s direction, or the distrustful ventures into the Force. When it came to this however, Dani was uncertain about nothing. 

Dani made excited little sounds against Jamie’s exposed neck when Jamie began to fumble with the button that fastened her pants. Jamie tugged at the zipper and Dani lifted herself up just enough so that Jamie could slip her hand down. Tugging lightly at Dani’s hair to get her to tilt her head back, Jamie sought out Dani’s pulsepoint with her mouth just as her fingers sought out slick heat. 

There were too many clothes between them, far too many, but neither of them could bring themselves to pause for long enough to fix that. The pants shoved partway down Dani’s thighs gave Jamie little room to manoeuvre, but she had two fingers inside of Dani, and Dani was sitting upright to rock her hips at a better angle, eyes lidded, lips parted on a stuttered sigh.

“That’s -” Dani’s breath hitched. “Yes - Right there - Please -”

Jamie had to bite back a groan of her own when Dani bucked against her hand and made a high desperate sound, clenched and shivering, and the moment going on as it echoed back and forth, mirrored and caught between them. Feeling this good, this alive, this conjoined, then chasing after it with a fervor as Dani leaned down at the same time Jamie pushed herself up to kiss her hard.

“Keep going,” Dani panted against Jamie’s mouth, then gave a feeble cry when Jamie did exactly that  — curled her fingers and ground her palm up until Dani was shuddering again, until she was spent.

Dani’s forehead dropped to Jamie’s shoulder to catch her breath. Jamie placed her free hand against Dani’s back, holding her close. She twitched the fingers still inside Dani, just an experimental press, and received a sharp inhalation.

“Too much?” Jamie asked softly.

“A little. Do it again.”

There was no building up to anything with it, just an extension of what had come before, flickers of pleasure that sparked at the edges of her vision, until Dani reached down to slide Jamie’s fingers out and lift them to her mouth. 

“Fuck,” Jamie hissed as Dani licked her sticky fingers clean then nipped at her fingertips.

Dani glanced down Jamie’s chest, one hand drifting inquisitively over the high-waisted hem of her black slacks. “Is it all right, if I -?”

Jamie was already nodding before Dani could finish the sentence. “Yeah. Yeah. Whatever you want.” 

When Dani pulled away to quickly shed her own clothes, Jamie felt the loss of that link like a light suddenly going out. She blinked and skimmed her fingertips along the curve of Dani’s elbow just to re-establish that contact until Dani had finished, until Dani was tugging the slacks down Jamie’s legs, smoothing her hands up Jamie’s bare thighs and watching her with hunger in her eyes. 

Jamie settled back on her elbows, biting her lip, gaze fixed upon Dani as she lowered her head and parted Jamie with her tongue. She wanted to watch  — eyes glued to the way Dani’s mouth moved against her, the way Dani urged her knees wider — but Jamie could not help how her eyes rolled back and she sank back onto the mattress with an embarrassingly loud sound despite how she tried to trap it behind her teeth. 

She twined her hands in Dani’s soft hair and guided her head, shivering when Dani moaned against her in return. Maybe it was the sequence of events, being the one to make Dani completely fall apart while feeling the echo of that pleasure, but soon Jamie’s hips were jerking out of rhythm and she was raking her nails down the back of Dani’s neck and shoulders  — anywhere she could reach  — desperate and hurtling over the edge. Even after she had finished, breathlessly staring up at the star-studded ceiling, Dani toyed at Jamie with the tip of her tongue, just softly, just enough to keep her suspended like a bridge held aloft by the tightness of a rope. 

And as Dani crawled back up her body to curl up against her, Jamie could think only that  — of all the bad decisions in her life, this one would surely have the most dire consequences. She just didn’t know what those might be, and she was afraid of ever finding out. 

—

There wasn’t much to pack, if anything. The majority of belongings they had begun with on this trip had been abandoned back on the Czerka flagship. Jamie was still lamenting the loss of her favourite pair of overalls and band shirt combination — wrecked at the courtesy of none other than Peter fucking Quint himself — as she pocketed her handheld mining laser. Behind her, Dani was fussing with her headband, trying to tease her hair into just the right shape all without the aid of a mirror.

“Does this look okay?” she asked, hands still tucking stray strands back.

A little flatter than usual, but all Jamie said was, “You look great. Better than me. Not that that’s hard.”

Dani smiled, lowering her hands only to approach Jamie and fix her starched white collar. “I think you look wonderful.”

Jamie made a face. “These clothes make me feel like I’m a conductor for a galactic circus.” 

“You look very rakish. Like you’re about to strike some shady business deal.”

“Oh, well, if I’m rakish, then that’s all right.” 

Dani’s smile ticked up at one corner and she leaned forward to kiss her. Jamie remembered waking up to a similar scene not long ago. A morning spent in much slower exploration than the previous evening until they were finger-mussed and kiss-bruised and had to go seeking a much-needed shower, during which Dani had ignored the mirrors in favour of pressing Jamie up against a tiled wall and putting her hands between her legs.

Now Dani put a hand to the small of Jamie’s back and pressed lightly, just enough to brush their hips together. Jamie opened her mouth as Dani’s tongue swept against hers.

A low chime from the ceiling. “Excuse me,” said the ship’s computer. “But we have arrived.”

Jamie pulled away. “We should probably go.” 

“Yeah,” Dani nodded, but her gaze was fixed on Jamie’s mouth, as though she wanted nothing more than to lean back in and pick up where they’d left off this morning. 

Jamie patted her arm and reached around to remove Dani’s hand from her waist. “Later.”

“Promise?” 

With a soft huff of laughter, Jamie answered with another lingering kiss. A coil of heat wound tight in her stomach, and she stepped back before it could take root. “C’mon. Let’s go.” 

Only reluctantly did Dani let herself be led from the luxury cruiser by the hand. The ship lowered the gangway for them with a jettison of atmo as it repressurised. The muggy air of Tython bore with it the old familiar smell of dense vegetation, even here on the planet’s major space station. As the station was revealed and all its bustling people and droids, Dani squeezed Jamie’s hand. Jamie looked up to find Dani nervously chewing her lower lip and staring out at the people, many of them wearing robes of various cut and colour, though their occupation was clear. 

Squeezing her hand back before letting it go, Jamie opened her mouth to give an encouraging word, but before she could speak there came a low chime from the speaker ports.

“How would you like me to wait for your return?” the ship’s computer asked.

“Oh, uh -” said Jamie. “How much is it to dock here?”

“One hundred and thirty-five credits per day.”

“A hundred and thirty-five?” Jamie repeated, incredulous. 

“Do you not have enough credits to afford this?” 

Scowling, Jamie fired back, “Are you always this much of a tit?”

“Query irresolvable,” the ship’s computer responded. “I have no anatomy, because I have no body. I do, however, have a stockpile of credits from Czerka Corporation in a private account tied to this vessel and accessible only by this vessel.”

Jamie shot the speaker ports a puzzled glance. “And how long could you remain docked using this private account?”

“Approximately two hundred and three years.”

Jamie’s eyes widened as she did some quick maths in her head. 

“Would you like me to dock here for two hundred and three years?”

“What?” Jamie shook her head. “No! Just - stay here until we get back. And don’t let anyone else aboard.” 

“Affirmative, Bollocks.”

Muttering expletives under her breath, Jamie continued down the gangway. 

“So, you’re rich now?” Dani asked. 

“Only if I survive the next week,” Jamie said. “I’m going to worry about that later. C’mon. I see Owen over there.”

Dani’s head jerked up and she glanced around with wide eyes. Jamie smiled and shook her head, walking along with Dani trailing in her wake. Owen stood near the station entrance, wearing blue robes dusted with flour handprints, and a sheathed lightsabre at his hip. His moustache twitched in a smile when he noticed her approach and he stepped forward to squeeze Jamie in a hug that picked her up a good half meter off the ground. 

“Oooof,” said Jamie as he set her back down, hands remaining on her shoulders.

“Look at you,” Owen said. “What do they feed you on Telos? Raw air and nothing else?”

She swatted his hands from her shoulders. “Fuck off. And why do you look like you’ve just escaped a bakery?”

“I’ve taken an interest in cooking while you’ve been away.” 

“Thought you were supposed to be a healer, mate.”

“Food,” said Owen very seriously, “is healing. And I’ll not have you - oh no. Jamie. You didn’t.”

He was staring over her shoulder at something behind her. Jamie turned, only to find Dani standing there awkwardly toying with her own fingers as she witnessed their reunion, her mismatched eyes wary. Owen’s face went from confused, to aghast, then to hard and guarded.

“I can explain -” Jamie started to say.

Owen pointed — not at Dani but at the sleek luxury cruiser they’d just disembarked. “You told us you were done with smuggling for good.”

"It's not like that!" Jamie insisted.

“You wait ‘till Hannah hears about this, young lady,” he said with faux gravitas, wagging a finger under her nose. 

“Oh, come off it!” 

Grinning, Owen stepped forward to Dani with his hand outstretched. “You must be Miss Clayton. I trust you’ve been making sure Jamie hasn’t been getting into any trouble?”

With a breathy laugh, Dani hesitated to take his hand before finally shaking it as if expecting to be struck by sudden lightning. “To the contrary.” 

He narrowed his eyes towards Jamie. “That doesn’t sound right. Has she been ill?”

“Oi!” Jamie snapped.

Owen chuckled, letting go of Dani’s hand and making shooing motions at the two of them. “Off we hop, then. I have the landspeeder parked outside and dinner in the oven.” 

“Is that a euphemism?” asked Jamie.

Owen made no gesture, but Jamie felt a light repreminanding flick of the Force at the back of her head. “Don’t be naughty, now. We have a guest.” 

Rubbing at the back of her head, Jamie followed him to the landspeeder. She offered Dani a brief encouraging smile, receiving something tremulous in return. 

“He seems nice,” Dani said in a low voice.

“I am,” said Owen without turning around. “Thank you.”

Leaning closer to Dani, Jamie whispered, “And he’s got big ears.”

“I do, yes. Who wants the front seat?” 

Jamie let Dani take it, so she herself could sprawl across the whole back seat and lean her head over the side of the landspeeder, the wind ruffling her unruly curls. In the front seat, Owen did his best to put Dani at ease while he drove, occupying her with polite talk of her home planet, Alderaan, how it compared to Tython, etc. Jamie only piped up when she heard her own name spoken, usually to correct one of Owen’s tall tales about her, which made Dani’s mouth curve in a smile that Jamie wanted to kiss away. 

They had landed on the planet at dusk, and by the time they arrived at Hannah’s apartment in the outer fringes of the Temple complex it was dark. Hannah was sitting on a couch and scrolling through a dry holo feed depicting ancient texts, when Owen ushered them through the front door and into the lounge. In robes of rich burgundy hues against her dark skin, she was a picture of elegance just as Jamie remembered. Immediately she swiped the holo feed away and rose to her feet, crossing the room to pull Jamie into a warm hug and greet Dani with an outstretched hand. 

“Do you want drinks?” Hannah asked. “Only I believe Owen had a specific wine he wanted to pair with tonight’s dinner.”

“Did you turn off the oven at -?” Owen started to ask but Hannah simply patted his darkly stubbled cheek.

“Of course I did, silly man. What do you take me for?” Hannah chided. 

He grinned but made no move to lean into the gesture or otherwise react, and soon Hannah dropped her hand. Owen disappeared into the kitchen while Hannah urged Dani and Jamie to sit. Jamie sat on the couch, and when Dani sat beside her it was so close their thighs pressed together. Hannah’s dark eyes flicked down to note this, but she simply smiled and inquired about their trip. 

With a hand towel tossed over one shoulder, Owen emerged from the kitchen not long later with a platter of savoury pastries, which he set on a table for easy access. Jamie swiped one up with an eager hand. 

“Not bad,” she said to Owen, mid-chew. “I can feel my latest scar healing up already.” 

“Shush you,” Owen said, swatting at her knees with the hand towel. Jamie snickered and reached for another pastry. 

Meanwhile Hannah had sat on a lone armchair and turned her attention to Dani. “Jamie mentioned she had a Force Sensitive friend with a peculiar - ah - predicament, so to speak. She brought you to the right place.” 

“Oh, I’m not,” Dani said with a flighty motion of her hand, “Force Sensitive.”

Hannah tilted her head. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s not me that uses the Force. It’s -” she pointed to her eye, the one that burned a constant gold these days, “- whatever this is.” 

“And what makes you think you have nothing to do with it?” Hannah asked. 

“Well,” Dani fumbled for a response. She was perched at the very edge of the couch, knees tucked together as if expecting a scolding from a teacher. “Peter said -”

“Peter?” Hannah rounded on Jamie with a flinty expression. “Don’t tell me you’re still getting yourself tied up with the likes of Peter bloody Quint.”

“I’m not!” Jamie said, trying to sound indignant but doing a very poor job of it since her mouth was full of pastry. She chewed quickly and swallowed so she could better defend herself. “Besides, he’s dead now!” 

“Oh, that is a shame,” Owen sighed dreamily. “I would’ve liked to have seen it myself.” 

“Who was the lucky bastard who killed him?” Hannah asked. 

From the couch, Dani cleared her throat uncomfortably, then lifted her hand in a miserable little wave. Both Owen and Hannah exchanged surprised glances. 

“It was an accident,” Dani said in a small voice. 

“Well, brava,” said Owen. 

Dani closed her eyes. “Please, don’t. I - uh -” she drew in a trembling breath and forged on, “I don’t know exactly what Jamie told you, but he wasn’t the only one.” 

“Ah,” said Hannah shortly. “Yes, she did mention something about that. The dead Consular out by Vurdon Ka. Edmund, was it?” 

Dani’s only reply was to nod and stare down at her socks; they’d all removed their shoes at the front door and set them into the cloak closet. 

“Can’t imagine the investigation will come poking around here,” Owen added. “They’ll think you’ve run off to the Outer Rim to hide.” 

Hannah hummed. “Yes, well, best we keep Miss Clayton inside for the duration of her visit, anyway.” 

Dani stared at them in utter bewilderment. “But don’t you - Shouldn’t you be reporting me to the authorities?” 

Owen tipped his head towards Jamie. “If this one vouches for you, then I believe you.”

Placing her hand over her heart, Jamie said, “That’s so romantic. You going soft on me?”

He knocked his foot against her ankle. “You wish.” 

“If what you say is true,” said Hannah, ignoring their antics, “and you’re being inhabited by some Sith entity, then I rather think it our duty to help you, not put you down like a rabid dog.” 

Owen cleared his throat. “About the Sith entity thing. Can we go back to that?”

"Quint said something about a -" Jamie trailed off, then turned to Dani. "What did he call it? The glowy box?"

"A holocron," Dani said.

Both Hannah and Owen turned to look at them with such sudden sharpness that Jamie nearly took a step back in surprise.

"A holocron," Hannah repeated. “You’re sure?”

"What colour was it?" Owen asked Dani before she could answer Hannah’s question. "Was it blue? Please say it was blue. I'll even take green."

Dani blinked, taken aback, and glanced nervously between them and Jamie before she answered, "It was red."

Hannah drew in a sharp breath and Owen grimaced as though he'd just been shot in the leg.

“Where is it now?” Hannah asked. 

"Gone," Jamie said with a shake of her head. "In bits and pieces back on Quint's flagship."

"Not all of it."

The three of them — Hannah, Owen, and Jamie — all turned their attention to Dani, who was wringing her hands together in her lap. Then she reached into the sewn up makeshift pocket of her cloak and pulled out a single shard of black gold metal. 

"I kept one of the pieces," Dani explained, holding it out towards them. "In case — I don't know — in case Peter tried to put it back together again." 

“May I?” Hannah held out her hand. 

Dani passed it over to her. Carefully, Hannah inspected it. Thin, triangular and gleaming darkly in the light. Jamie thought she could almost hear a faint whisper when she looked at it for too long, a cold fingertip brushing against the back of her neck, travelling down the length of her spine.

“There is part of an inscription here in the old Sith Tongue,” Hannah said, and she spoke a series of guttural words that seemed to darken the very air around her before translating them. “I sleep. I wake. I walk.” 

“Mmm,” said Owen. “Hate that.” 

“I’m so glad you two know what the hell is going on,” Jamie said dryly. 

Shooting Jamie an exasperated look, Hannah handed the shard back to Dani. “Thank you, dear. What you have there is a piece of a very rare storage device made with the Force. Undoubtedly Sith in origin, and very ancient, too. Jedi use them as well. Holocrons contain information. Secrets. Wisdom. Power.”

Dani turned the metallic triangle over between the fingers as if trying to read the same inscription, or to glean something more. “And what did this one hold?” 

“I haven’t the foggiest,” Hannah said with a soft smile. “Whatever that holocron once held is long gone now.”

Dani clenched the triangle in one fist. “But what if we had all the pieces?”

“Perhaps that would accomplish something. I doubt it.” Then Hannah added wryly, “You might be able to make a very fine lamp.” 

In the other armchair, Owen snorted. Without looking in his direction, Jamie aimed a kick at his leg, which he easily dodged.

“That can’t be everything,” Dani said, knuckles going white, voice going shaky. “You have to know something more. There has to be more.” 

Hannah shrugged. “I’ll look through the archives tonight. Maybe then we will have more answers.” 

“That’s -”

"Tomorrow," said Hannah firmly yet kindly. She stood and urged Dani to her feet as well.

"But -" Dani started to say.

Hannah put a warm hand on Dani shoulder and steered her towards the dining room. "Tomorrow," she repeated. "We cannot solve the galaxy's problems in an evening."

—

After dinner, they retired to the lounge over a glass of wine. Hannah took Dani aside, where they murmured away together in a corner, while Jamie and Owen sat in armchairs across a polished stone firepit that had been dug into the ground. Dani wandered off to bed not long after with a lingering glance in Jamie’s direction, then Hannah left for the comforts of her archives, murmuring that same phrase in the old Sith Tongue as she went. 

I sleep. I wake. I walk.

Jamie shivered in spite of herself. Owen watched her knowingly over the rim of his glass. 

“How are you really?”

“You know me. Bold as brass,” Jamie muttered.

He glanced down the hallway, where Dani had gone and not emerged after the sound of a door shutting. “I shouldn’t have to tell you to be careful, so I won’t.”

Jamie grimaced. “Yeah. I know.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I won’t. Besides,” she reached out to nudge his elbow so that it slipped off the armrest of the couch. “I can always count on you to patch me up again.” 

His answering smile was strained. “I can only do so much with lightsabre wounds.” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

Owen took a sip of his wine and hummed, the note echoing slightly around the glass bowl. “I defer to Hannah in matters of balance in the Force,” he said, “but I’m not sure I can do anything for your friend without more information. And even then — I’m saying this might be a lost cause, Jamie.” 

Jamie gripped the stem of her wineglass and rolled her head back to sigh at the ceiling. “If I had two credits for every time someone told me that, I’d have twelve credits.”

“You could buy yourself a decent stimpack with that,” he said with a snap of his fingers.

She let her head loll forward again and leaned her cheek upon her fist. “I know what you’re going to say.”

Owen smiled sadly at her and then he said it anyway, “You need to prepare yourself for the worst.”

“I don’t want to hear it, mate.” 

He leaned forward, setting aside his wineglass on a side table, and said in a soft yet serious tone, “You cannot let your judgement be clouded by personal attachments.” 

She laughed, a short bitter huff of laughter. “That’s rich, coming from you.” With a gesture around the room, she said, “Awfully cosy here in Hannah’s place, innit? Was that your spare cloak and set of boots in the closet I saw?” 

If Owen was put off his stride in any way, he did not show it, nor did he falter. “As a member of The Order, it is your duty to help everyone you can. And in that regard, you have always been the best of us.”

Jaw tight, Jamie glared into the firepit, a flicker of flame sending up sparks. “I’m not a Jedi.” 

“No,” he murmured, his gaze dark and warm and unyielding. “But you act like one. If strength and power were what made a Jedi, then we would all be Sith. You are not defined by how much of the Force you can control. It’s what you do that matters.”

Jamie eyes burned from staring at the fire for too long. She cleared her throat, lifted her wineglass and drained its contents. 

“Thanks for the drink and for the food,” she said, setting the wineglass aside and pushing herself to her feet. “And for the shit pep talk.” 

Owen did not stand or attempt to bring her back when Jamie turned and walked down the same hallway Dani had vanished down about an hour ago. He let her go with a soft, “Good night,” that Jamie caught just on the edges of her hearing, and which made her fists clench.

At the end of the hall, Hannah had given them each their own rooms across from one another. Jamie stopped in front of Dani’s door. There was a soft light shining beneath the gap at the base, indicating that either Dani was still awake, or she was too afraid to sleep alone with the lights off. Jamie lifted her hand to knock, but stopped before she could touch the door. Instead she ran her hand down her face and rubbed at her eyes. Then with a shake of her head, she turned around and went into her own room. 

It was the first night in nearly two weeks that Jamie slept alone. She tossed and turned, looking back towards her own shut door, seeing the echo of that pale sliver of light across the hall. Telling herself she was being ridiculous, she shut her eyes and struggled in search of sleep. 

—

“I did a bit more research last night,” said Hannah as a greeting over breakfast.

“Oh, aye?” Jamie mumbled to the contents of her teacup. 

Late morning sunlight washed through the tall windows of Hannah’s apartment, and Jamie was combating a pervasive grogginess with her third cup of the morning. Sleep last night had been a futile effort. Sitting across the table from her, Dani looked no better off; her eyes were circled with dark rings and her hair lacked its usual polished care. She had already been out in the kitchen for some time when Jamie had finally emerged from her room to find Dani helping Owen prepare breakfast and set the table. Both she and Owen had greeted Jamie with varying degrees of enthusiasm — Dani with a small private grin, Owen with a boisterous call of ‘Good Morning!’ that could’ve woken the dead. 

Now they were all seated at the dining table. Owen had prepared a spread of food that would have given the ship’s computer a run for its millions of credits. He and Dani had tucked in, while Jamie and Hannah nursed their cups of tea in lieu of food. 

“That inscription,” said Hannah. “I sleep. I wake. I walk. IT was specific enough to give me a small lead.” 

Jamie lowered her cup, while across the table from her Dani did the same with her knife and fork, suddenly alert. 

“So, what did the holocron have in it?” Jamie asked. 

“Not what. Who.” Hannah pointed around her cup towards Dani, who had gone stock-still. “The echo of a soul. An ancient Sith Lord, whose sunken tomb is said to lie beneath the waters of a planet lost to time after the Hundred-Year Darkness. I could find nothing more than this, and at first I thought it a mere legend. Here. These images were taken from The Valley of the Dark Lords on Korriban.” 

Hannah tapped at a link on her wrist, bringing up a holographic display which she set to the middle of the table so the rest of them could see. A collage of pictures from various sources. Old texts written on parchment or carved into stone. Weathered statues emerging from bodies of water in dark caves, and vast frescos painted upon plastered walls depicting a woman. All of them somehow defaced. Sections of writing blotted or chiselled away. The heads of every statue, every painting smashed or blighted as though taken to by a hammer.

“Spooky,” Owen muttered. 

“What’s wrong with her face?” asked Jamie. 

“It seems even other Sith feared her. Or envied her. Or hated her. Who knows? But her very name and image have been desecrated beyond repair, condemned to damnatio memoriae,” Hannah highlighted a section of writing that had been left unscarred. “They call her only: The Lady.” 

Jamie stared at one of the statues, and even though it lacked all discernible features she could not shake herself of the horrible feeling that it was watching her back. “A Sith feared by other Sith? Well, that’s not terrifying at all.” 

“All Sith eventually turn on each other in the end,” Owen scoffed. “This was probably just the work of some ambitious apprentice. You know how they are.” 

“That’s very possible,” agreed Hannah. 

“So instead of knowledge,” Jamie said slowly, “the holocron was holding a piece of her soul? Why?” 

“A piece? No.” Hannah shook her head. “More like a shadow. A reflection of what once was whole. And for what purpose, I cannot say. Did she even make it herself? Or was it made of her unwillingly? Perhaps to preserve her own life. Or even to trap her, to interrogate her. All of these are plausible.”

Owen hummed a contemplative note, nodding to himself, then he abruptly said, “More tea?”

Hannah held out her cup. “Please. Thank you, dear.”

Meanwhile, Dani had spoken not a word. Her gaze was glued to one of the holo images, the one of a fresco depicting The Lady, faceless, with her hands on the shoulders of a young child with gold-graven eyes. 

Jamie nudged her foot under the table, and Dani started, blinking at her. 

“Sorry,” Dani breathed. 

“S’alright,” Jamie said. She nodded towards the holo images. “This sound familiar at all?” 

Dani licked her lips and then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s her.” Hands clenched and trembling around her cutlery, she said, “I’m sorry, but can you please turn that off?”

Without question, Hannah killed the feed, and Dani breathed a sigh of relief. Owen topped up Dani’s teacup as well, and she smiled gratefully at him. He winked and set down the teapot.

“As fascinating as Sith history is,” said Owen dryly. “What does it have to do with Alderaan? Why target children of House Thul?”

Hannah looked to be deep in thought, sipping at her tea with a furrow to her brow, while Dani shrugged. 

Meanwhile, Jamie groaned and rubbed at her eyes. "I don't know," she said, "but I know someone who does. Do you have a transceiver?"

“Oh! Yeah. Give me a tick.” Owen pushed back his chair and went off in search of a transceiver. He returned a moment later holding a blade-thin screen, tapping at it to pull up the right application before he handed it to Jamie and sat back down in his seat. “Here.” 

“Cheers.” Jamie took the screen and typed in the relevant frequency and hit a green button. 

It rang. And rang. And just as Jamie was about to kill the feed, the screen flickered and a familiar face appeared. 

Rebecca smiled. "Well, that was fast. Miss me already?"

[tigerdrop]

dogboy gordon rutting against benreys leg in the same way that benrey did it in the reverse. benrey encouraging him and also making fun of him in the same breath. yummy brain thoughts. i am rotating this

jesus christ i started thinking about dogboy gordon and have not stopped thinking. theres 7k words of dogboy stuff under here im going insane

how in the. help. Help. dog boy. how does he become dogboy. i cant keep giving these idiots potions but i guess thats what ive been reduced to

gman turns him into a dog boy. walks thru a portal and comes out in nintendogs but hes the dog and when he comes back out again hes still a little bit dogy. this is fucking stupid

THE TAIL WAGGING im going to pass away

> i think he would have such fucking issues with the fact that his tail and ears are expressing his emotions so much

trying to act angry towards benrey but hes given away by his tail wagging like crazy......and he never even knows its happening until somebody points it out

it would be cool if. um. he got a little more into roughhousing and rough play afterward. you know. like a . hes already really handsy......physical. . .. .

> okay like the anger turning into somewhat-serious jostling and pushing which turns into roughhousing

its not even horny at first it just gives him the weirdest fucking endorphins. like. its fucking fun man

> and by the time theyre roughhousing his tail is wagging furiously and like thumping on the floor when he gets pinned haha

> YES its about the exhilaration ......he gets this rush from flipping benrey over after he's pinning him, baring his teeth triumphantly

benrey pinning him by his wrists and half-laughing at him like "what the fuck is wrong with you??" and the rest of the science team chimes in like YEAH WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU GUYS WHAT WAS THAT

> gordon comes back to himself and turns red immediately and splutters like "i dont know! what - im just - benrey started it!” so like he refuses to do it again but then benrey pushes his buttons and he gets in his face, ears pinned back a bit and shoves him and benreys like oh...so its this again huh...

GOD......PUSHING HIS BUTTONS.......its sooo much fun now that gordons so physically reactive too

> what if he manages to get an honest to god growl out of gordon at one point and it makes something ugly twist in benrey's gut and he wants to make it happen again

and its probably really gratifying for him to see just how often gordons tail wags when gordon looks at him or snorts at one of his jokes

TWO SIDES

> the duality of their relationship....gordons tail wagging just a bit when hes looking at benrey though im

> im thinking about the growling though like...benrey gets fixated on how he fucking sounds, all deep and rumbly and this intensity just focused on benrey only....makes him think about how that would look in other contexts....

> benrey riling him up while their roughousing so he can feel that growl travel through his chest and like...getting gordon to that point makes him SO determined to win the "fight" over benrey hes almost a bit out of his mind with it......pins benrey and subconsciously ruts against him a bit as a sign of dominance....please stop me now goodbye....

NO LITERALLY THATS WHAT I WAS THINKING ABOUT THE MOMENT I STARTED TYPING

prodding gordon further and further and riling him up until gordon pins him to the floor, hard, an arm jammed behind his back and his HEV suit jammed up against benreys ass and rutting subconsciously as gordon. h. gordon. clamps down on the back of his neck and growls

benrey sucks in a rattling gasp and is like "what? ow" in a weirdly shocked yet distanced way

he cant feel where gordons hard b/c of the HEV suit but he can feel the metal awkwardly bumping against his ass Like That. and inwardly benreys on a loop of "what the fuck what the fuck" but not in a bad way in the slightest. just utterly cannot believe this is whats happening, right now, gordon freeman dry humping his ass behind a bunch of crates, not 100 feet from the rest of the science team

> gordon snapping out of it and being like...what the fuck am i doing... or....maybe the gasp makes gordon bite down harder in response...not sure

> gordon not even realizing hes doing it until that moment is so great....i dont know but....maybe he lets go and pushes off benrey, panting and wild eyed, and the image of benrey on his stomach, his bite mark in his neck, is burned into his brain

> he just doesnt say fucking anything and just dips to get jacked off by the suit maybe.... cant stop thinking about how it felt to see benrey with his teeth marks....hates himself for feeling that sick satisfaction in his chest

benrey......touching the back of his neck afterwrds, kind of dream-like, both consciously and subconsciously.......

i like making gordon freeman suffer so i want him to just angrily try to rut against his arm in private later trying desperately to get off thru this stupid busted HEV suit that he cant get out of. pathetic. gordon freeman humping his own fucking arm in a bathroom stall. like a dog

and he thinks about how benrey smelled when he had his teeth clamped on the back of benreys neck, his nose buried right against benreys jaw and neck, smelling the sweat and the hormones and feeling benreys rapid heartbeat, and his whole fucking head throbs with how bad he wants to get off

> and he just cant get off....has to deal with going back the team tense and a bit sweaty and just move on when they ask what happened. benrey doesnt say anything just stares at him and gordon cant meet his eyes. gordon tries not to fucking let benrey get under his skin cause i think hes probably mad upset and embarassed that he reverted to his like,,,more base instincts because of BENREY of all people.....

> but he still thinks about it sometimes and....he tries to distance himself from him but hes still a pretty touchy guy and he find himself around benrey still....laughing at his jokes and getting in his space once in a while. always pulls himself away when he notices but not before he takes in a deep breath of benrey's scent...

> meanwhile benreys trying to think of how to make gordon do that shit again LOL

ohmy god. oh my god.....before this.....before he tries to stop getting in benreys business and before he even recognizes what hes doing.......he like.....hes so touchy feely that he subconsciously tries to mark benrey a lot. like just doing everything in his power to rub the inside of his wrists somewhere on him. even if its barely gonna do anything b/c of the suit. its just instinct

> NOW HE ...now he realizes that he was doing that the whole time..jesus,...

> AUGH....in the buildup before this he didnt realize that he was doing it........but now he realizes he fucking misses doing that shit and kind of berates himself for doing it in the first place....like what the fuck....be Normal gordon...you cant want to fuck him....do you..?

i want him to. grrgohg i dont even know how or why this would happen but i want gordon freeman to lie supine on the ground with his hands up like paws like hes a big pupy looking for tummy rubs OKAY! BYE. I HAVE TO GO. im going to fucking sob why am i like this why is this the cutest possible thing for a man to do. i cant even think of a fucking reason why he would do this so im so fucking embarrassed

i want to fucking. i want to rub his fucking tumy and make him pop a boner from it im literally so sick of this earth

> i was literally Just typing: i just think it would be cool . To pet his tummy and keep telling him "good boy" in a Certain kind of Tone that just totally fucks him up about it . maybe flushed and tongue starting to wanna hang out of his mouth as he goes from laying flat on his back to kinda twisted to one side, breathing heavy, tail thumping hard against the floor cause hes a big dog so that thing is like a lethal weapon

> petting the fuzzy lower belly while hes already hard & needy just to make him whine Very high pitched and desperate-sounding bc its so close to what he wants but that just makes it worse 8)

> What if. Benrey pinning Gordon, maybe scritches behind his ear, as a "joke", he's a dog haha good boy wants ear scritches?? And Gordon immediately squirming and whining. Maybe even kicking his leg just a little bit

> i think it would be cool for a post-black mesa puby gordon pinned benrey to the floor with his whole body weight and humped the life out of benrey's leg while panting and drooling in benrey's ear. a total lack of regard for benrey, (of course he's into it tho) just using him like an object that's conveniently there for him to furiously get off on

> i'm thinking.... this happening after a period of prolonged teasing, like you said. rubbing his tummy and ignoring his dick

> Man ok combined with the suit edging huh? I love that, but i also kinda want gordon to sneak off to get off and discover his uh. k. kn. knot

> he sneaks off and if in this situation he can.  idk. get at his dick in a bathroom or whatever. and well, he gets caught up so easily in his 'head empty' instincts mode that when he cums he's kneading that thang for like 2 minutes before he even becomes cognizant enough to notice. and then immediately panic. so idk maybe he cant get at himself for a while, right, so he didnt notice this

> i just think gordon being in the suit would not let him get at his dick and he would only be able to get off in really convoluted ways so like...he wouldnt fucking Know he had a knot he would just feel a weird pressure at the base that he doesnt know what its about. but he starts getting these fantasies of holding benrey down and staying in him when he comes and he doesnt know where the hell thats coming from.....yet. until after everything is over and he can get out of it, and the first time he jacks off again he realizes HOLY FUCK? like what the hell....but it makes sense in retrospect where those fantasies came from. but hes just super embarassed about those fantasies and pushes them down until benrey comes back into his life and activates him again

> in addition to embarassment i think he has a lot of complicated feelings about benrey and definitely feels a guilty about wanting to fuck him into the ground and fill him with cum....but GOD if benrey doesnt get to him just as much as he did in black mesa

> i think that something like this would be so unplanned and shit but like......theyve probably hung out a few times before this or more like maybe benrey has dropped into his house just to annoy him and gordon finds his ears pricking when he hears heavy footsteps around his house cause he recognizes them as benrey's...

> little rush of exhilaration maybe. cause it means they'll spend some time together and he has just all these emotions under his skin when they do. i dont know how this would happen but maybe gordon forgets to keep himself in check when benrey makes him laugh so hard he's snorting and his tail is wagging furiously.benrey tries to touch/catch his tail cause he's kinda curious about it and it never got to mess with it in black mesa. but it turns into roughhousing as gordon shoves him away a little bit but benrey keeps trying to get at it and then get at his ears

> "cmon man just let me touch them whats the big deal-" "NO!" but like hes still laughing a bit until they start really getting into it and he gets breathless and a little irritated at having to roll around and try to pin benrey's hands to the floor

hell on earth......the way his tails wagging and hes grinning and drooling a little once he gets benrey pinned.......

> little triumphant smile when he finally does.....got benrey on his stomach and he's subconsciously rutting against benrey's ass like in black mesa but hes just not noticing while he's berating benrey for losing

> talking right into his ear, and benrey lets out a little gasp when he does a particularly hard thrust and then hes like oh. fuck. he takes in a deep breath and can smell benrey's sweat and realizes hes just as horny about this as he is. cant help but bury his face in the back of his neck and lick. and benrey starts pushing back into him and talking the worst dirty talk and it makes him growl right against his neck and put his teeth there again as a warning not to move but benrey doesnt still, he just keeps talking. so gordon bites down, hard, cutting him off mid sentence with a yelp

f. fucking. benrey......arching his back into it.......pressing his hips up as high as theyll go......the angles bro.....the angles

> also: gordon popping boners more easily, even when he's just platonically excited w/ benrey..... yeah... :)

> like the thing about this is just that he got so excited from the wrasslin that he popped a boner....wasnt even thinking of horny.....

> not until benrey started gasping and arching back into him. then hes immediately aware of how this looks...like hes already basically in the position in his fantasies hes just rutting against him in the imitation of fucking

> gordon getting more frenzied by the little sounds benrey is making as he clamps down on his neck, drool dripping down his chin. benrey braces himself with one hand and gets the other to pull his pants down and then tug on the leg of gordon's down a bit because gordon is kind of. not thinking straight right now. gordon gets the message and fumbles with the buttons to get it down and like. haha i thinnk it would be fun if benrey prepped himself before this and gordon notices like. you really managed to prep urself this time? god, you really wanted this to happen. but maybe benrey had been doing it the last few times cause gordon would get in his space again sometimes and things were tense

NO GOD THIS IS GOOD. LIKE. oh my god gordon just like bitching at him and getting up in his face and Growling a couple times before while his pants are all tented from the inadvertent excitement boners that he doesnt even realize hes having.....and benrey might not be smart but hes not stupid

theres like a 50% chance theyre gonna fuck at any given time he realizes so like. why not......

even if it doesnt work out in the moment benrey still spends the whole time hopped up on the knowledge that they could have, that he was the little fucking pervert who got himself all prepped just in case gordon decided todays the day hes just gonna mount him, and honestly the way he beats his meat and fucks himself afterwards might be nearly as good as the real deal, just from that little bit of self-inflicted degradation

like u said...........he really wanted it to happen

> hhh.... maybe gordon ruts a bit against his ass and benrey guides him in and. he makes a deep growling rumble when he bottoms out. benrey feels it through his chest and gets a full body shiver as he's filled. i dont think hes fully developed his knot yet but its a tight fit. he starts fucking hard and fast into him while open mouthed panting, he cant keep his face away from the benrey's neck, licking up the sweat and burying his face there to breathe in his scent

the fucking . the desperation......every instinct in his body has been telling him to fuck benrey - yes, that benrey, fucking benrey - into the ground for......weeks now? months??

dudes probably tried everything he can think of to overcome it and to think about literally anything else when he gets off but nobody he fucks even comes close to smelling as good as benrey did when gordon had him pinned and gasping and sweating and he could smell the want rolling off him in waves.....and it sucks massive dick and he hates it

> hes been driven crazy by this thought for so long.....cant fucking control himself. wh. what if gordon managed to get a hold of a piece of benrey's clothes that he left and held it up to his face when he let himself jack off to this particular thought so he could get the scent but it jsut wasnt the same without his warm, panting body below him . he always nuts the hardest when he has it though

huffing benreys undershirt and desperately rutting into a pillow on his hands and knees with his ass fully up and hes just utterly debased right now

sad and pathetic gordon freeman humping his pillow like a dog and whining thinking about fucking benrey. if his past self could see himself like this right now he would be disgusted

> !!!!!!!!1 HIM GETTING INTO THE MOUNTING POSITION ON INSTINCT WHEN HE DOES IT...YOUR BRAIN ! i think that gordon would definitely give everything hes got to benrey when he finally gets to fuck him.

> now that hes actually doing it he's just out of his goddamn mind. benrey already being ready for him, slick and hot, just letting him push in .....i think he would definitely go insane

dudes never fucked so hard or so mindlessly in his life......for once all the neuroses just fly out the window. overcome by instinct

> letting out all these whines and moans, not even caring for how loud hes being... benrey's wanted this so fucking bad hes just eating it up, pushing back on him like an animal and getting a power trip that he made gordon this unhinged

thinking about him just being utterly shocked when benrey guides him in and he can just bury himself all the way to the hilt so easily and it makes something in his brain snap

> gordon doesnt even tell benrey when hes close, benrey can just start to feel his knot swell inside him and how it stretches him a bit past what he prepared for...but he wants it in him so fucking bad, he just lets gordon keep fucking into him

like. oh my god. does benrey even know about the knot or is this a brand new and fun surprise for him

> I DONT KNOW......I JUST REALLY LIKE THE THOUGHT OF HIM BEING A BIT CAUGHT OFF GUARD BY IT....

> being caught off guard by it but being so turned on by the feeling of it filling him that he lets out this really high, needy sound. which goes straight to gordon's dick and he just pushes into him harder and jolts his whole body with it. maybe he h....he bites down on the other side of his neck again and thrusts in one more time before coming deep in him. just shuddering from it, eyes squeezed shut and jaw locked around benrey

benrey just fuckin. face down ass up and arching his back as high as he can

(mumbling very quietly) it might be cool also if. gordon maybe.....started growling some things as he got close. a certain something. a word

you know......just......bent over benreys back......arms wrapped around benreys chest and fingers digging into the soft flesh (maybe even his titties, if youre feeling spicy).......pistoning his hips in staccato bursts while he growls.........u bh hhhhh......"mine". over and over not even realizing hes doing it b/c his brain is so fogged out on the sheer delight of rawing benrey after having thought about it non-stop

(mumbling so quietly im speaking at a pitch below the human hearing threshold) benrey hoarsely saying "'m yours, 'm yours" while hes got one hand jammed underneath himself to tug at his dick is the thing that sets gordon off and makes him come, perhaps. perhaps

and gordon just.....slumps over him, leaning his full body weight on him, panting weakly into his ear while his hips subconsciously rut just a little bit, arms still wrapped around benrey but otherwise as useless as a bump on a log while benreys jerking himself off to the wild new feeling of having that knot stretch him open and tug at him every time gordon shifts his hips

gordon nuts and becomes utterly useless but at least his knots still fat as hell so benreys still got something to work with

(sobbing) i just want to see men acting like animals leave me olone..... its about the submission to instinct......the degradation and dehumanization......and also the scent kink its all about the fucking scent kink. its about wanting to huff a guy you pretend you hate like hes a fucking magic marker and its about wanting to make him smell like u

> for scent kink, Gordon's boners due to sweaty benrey hehehehe. this is narsty -> Benrey is like "yeesh that was a lot of exertion" after their first almost-sex wrasslin match, and gets embarassed, so next time he like, wears a bunch of old spice.... but gordon doesn't get as excited. like yeah he can feel him against his back and yeah he's not soft but.. he's not panting or as hard. benrey thinks real hard when he gets home

> CLEAN SWEAT OK ITS A COMBATIBILITY THING OK. IT IS. LOOK UP THE SCIENCE OK I ...walks away. clown shoez

YOU ARE SO FUCKING CORRECT THANK U

> Maybe next time He doesn't bother with the old spice at all, and he gets real into the wrasslin... hell maybe he even uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh gets gordon's head under his arm im just saying

I DIDNT WANNA BE THE ONE TO SAY IT BUT NO YEAH THATS COOL. ITS A VERY COOL THOUGHT

think about......dogboy gordon roughhousing and getting pinned down himself and snapping his teeth up at benrey like joking but not joking. you know

they both start just getting really into roughhousing b/c sometimes gordons brain gets Stressed The Fuck Out by all the added stimulation to the senses of being pupy......theres too many sounds and smells sometimes and it makes him even more neurotic and makes him start acting up and getting irritable and trying to start shit until he exerts himself enough to tire his brain out and make it shut up

maybe even like.....in the interim after black mesa but before he runs into benrey again, gordon becomes a fucking hot mess b/c he doesnt know how to deal with it all and the only way he got thru black mesa without his brainstem snapping in half was b/c he and benrey would start shit and start fighting and wrestling and the rest of the science team eventually shrugged and accepted this as a (very weird) part of their life now. he looks like hes one minor inconvenience away from a panic attack and its so sad

any kind of physical exercise would help (he takes up jogging when hes feeling stressed out, which is a lot, and hes gotten some really nice legs by this point) but theres just something different about the roughhousing. its a mental exercise as well as a physical one, so it exhausts his brain more, and unbeknownst to him, he just gets fucking endorphins from the way benrey smells and from being able to mark him with all the up-close physical contact theyre getting. so. hence the wrestling and roughhousing and gordons occasional tendency to just pounce the guy in public and start fighting him with his tail wagging and thumping like crazy

it might be even better if gordon attempts to roughhouse with just about the whole science crew at some point, just for a point of comparison

like.....its usually good, its satisfying, and it wears him out and lets him function like a human being......but theres just something about roughhousing with benrey thats really satisfying and he doesnt have the emotional intelligence to figure out what it is

gordon freeman is an idiot, is what im saying

> tommy indulges him and probably lets him win a few times, coomer soundly wins out every time and bubby probably...loses some before getting pissy LOL. i think that its fun for him to get the most Good Feelings out of roughhousing with benrey.....

AUUUUGHHH WHAT IF HE LICKED BENREYS FACE THO

g gbfbhhh god im obsessed with the way benrey laughs at him and asks "what the fuck is wrong  with you?" in the act 3 commentary and thats the exact kind of vibe im feeling from him about like. everything gordon does in pupymode

> Okay, before I go to bed, I shall leave you with a Dog Thought™. Gordon probably wouldn’t be the “best trained” dog in the world because, well, he doesn’t have anyone to make him listen or obey. Heck, given his need to be in control, he probably thinks he’s the leader of the proverbial pack and nobody can tell him what to do. He’d probably slip and do quite a few “rude” and obnoxious dog things, including but not limited to being all over Benrey.

> Trying to goad him into roughhousing. Licking his face. Being in his space to the point that it even starts to make Benrey raise an eyebrow. Inappropriate marking and whatnot. [cough] And what if Benrey--in a weird reversal of the roles we usually give--is stuck with the task of… training Gordon… to behave…

> YOU KNOOOOW. Because pitting alpha dog Gordon against Benrey, who is trying to get him to be “good”...

> … Well, that could be interesting.

> Imagine if you will: Benrey realizing he needs to get Gordon under control. As much as he likes the attention, it's becoming too much. Relentless. Tables have been turned and now he's the one that's a little overwhelmed by the situation because, well, Gordon is running on pure instinct half the time. Making it hard to do things. Making it hard to live his life. Always in his bubble which was, like, fine at first but now he can't do anything without feeling a wet tongue on his face or having Gordon trying to goad him into rough housing.

> He needs so much attention. Has so much energy. It's too much.

> So, he decides he's going to try to "train" Gordon to not... do that. Benrey trying to assert dominance over Gordon, as if he were just a normal dog. Gordon, who has already marked Benrey and decided that Benrey belongs to him does not take to this very well. This is not how the chain of command works. This isn't how the chain of command works at all.

> Benrey, struggling to curb him through praise and admonitions--"good boy," "bad boy," tossing him ~treats~ if he does something right--is now facing off with Gordon, who is both enamored with the attention he's getting but utterly pissed off by the fact Benrey is trying to stop him from doing what he wants.

losing it at the tables being turned and now gordons the annoying fucker getting up in benreys business all the time and never leaving him alone. he deserves this

> They're basically both unmovable objects and unstoppable forces. Benrey is stubborn and isn't going to give up all his sweet PS3 time because Gordon won't stop humping his leg, and Gordon is not going to give up his God given right to make Benrey his property. But Benrey isn't completely averse to the idea of being Gordon's bitch. He just wants to be his bitch on his own terms.

> So, in a surprising show of... well, intelligence on Benrey's behalf, he starts redirecting Gordon's energy towards what HE wants Gordon to do.

> That's how you handle misbehaving dogs anyway. You redirect their energy. That's what all the books on dog training says anyway, and Benrey's inclined to believe it because he's read it in all two books on the subject he casually flipped through.

> So, when Gordon starts getting in his space, he starts redirecting him to touch where he wants touched. "Good boy." When Gordon starts getting a little rough, he purposefully positions himself so he gets the most out of it. "Good boy." When Gordon's licking his face, he starts trying to guide that tongue down to his neck. Feels better there. "Good boy."

> Because he's not a complete idiot. Him and Gordon both know this is sexually charged at this point. And Gordon... Gordon can bend his behaviors a little bit as he's being directed if he still gets to do what he wants (in a way), and Benrey still gets to be fondled by the nerd.

> "But part of the problem is that he is in Benrey's space all the time!" Yeah, but Benrey figured that out, too. You know what shuts up Gordon real fast? Pushing him back down on the other end of the couch and telling him to stay. And if he listens, he slowly, carefully hand feeds Gordon a treat as a reward. Pushing it into his mouth, making sure it goes all the way in. Letting Gordon lick the last bits of taste off of his fingers. He usually sits still after that. "Good boy."

i have a thought thats almost unrelated but im so desperate to give this scenario the proper context

thinking about......gordon getting out of black mesa and hes still dogboy.....and hes attempting to go back to life as normal now that benreys out of his hair for ever but one day his pupy nose catches That Fucking Smell on the air and he realizes that benreys not fucking dead. he thought benrey was fucking dead, b/c he killed him

gordon freeman losing his mind for a solid week or two trying to hunt that smell down (why?? to prove a point?? to try to kill benrey again??? uh huh.) and then when he does hunt benrey down, its like.....well, what was the plan, bud? you found him, and now youre having a staredown outside a 7/11 while benreys frozen halfway through his big gulp

i literally forgot what i was typing b/c dogy gordon tum y rub b gtfhgbb ggfabgbbg

and.....well......he doesnt know exactly what his game plan was, but he does know that benrey cant be trusted as far as u can throw him, and hes not about to let benrey wreak havoc on new mexico if he can help it, so now his new hobby is......tracking benrey across the city to keep an eye on him

and thats how they keep ending up in close proximity

and thats how u start looping in the whole role reversal thing.....suddenly gordons the one that benrey cant shake......hes a bloodhound and hes got the scent

SORRY im SORRY i crave context with the same ferocity that i crave, like, air

and then they start roughhousing when gordon tackles him to the ground one day to stop him from doing.....something......and gordon snaps being to being a normal person so quickly afterwards that its dizzying. turns out a solid 80% of what he really wanted was a sparring buddy

> good afternoon everyone this is not horny in the slightest but i just wanted to say- you know that thing dogs do where they get REALLY excited and playful when you come home from a long day at work? well i’m just thinking about. y’know how benrey has a tendency to just, vanish for a while and come back like nothing happened? think it’d be cute if he were gone for a particularly long stretch of time b4 catching up with the science team again and gordon RESPONDS in his typical annoyed, bratty fashion while his body language is saying something completely different (he still hasn’t mastered the art of puby)

> like, u know, tail wagging a hundred miles a minute, ears perked up and attentive, subconsciously getting all up in benrey’s space

Im going to Cry thats so fucking cute wtf wtf  wt ff

still going insane thinking about the “good boy” thing......like...... its all fun and games until hes grappling his best friend benrey and hes got benrey in a headlock and hes plastered against benreys back from head to toe and his tails thumping excitedly against the floor and hes panting hot and harsh right against benreys ear and benrey takes that moment, right there, to choke out "good boy"

its half outright horny and half power play b/c benreys banking that either theyre gonna fuck or gordons gonna let go and be like "what the fuck, man" and then benrey can get the drop on him again

the way gordon just goes stiff after he says it.....breath getting shaky.....dick twitching once against benreys ass and the guy can fucking feel it clear as day......Augh

his tail slows.....and then fires right back up again when he tentatively rocks his hips against benreys ass and feels the sound benrey makes more than he hears it......and like for fucks sake theyve been dancing around how horny their roughhousing sessions are for weeks, this guy deserves to finally get his rocks off by dry humping benreys ass while benreys getting spots in his vision from how tightly gordons got his arm wrapped around his neck. he deserves this

gordons free hand slowly opening up and pressing flat against benreys shirt, then crawling under it so that he can feel the bare skin of his stomach......rocking his hips against the dip between benreys cheeks and whimpering when benrey says it again, breathless and hoarse. "good boy." his tongue poking out to lick a broad, wet stripe up the side of benreys neck to taste the salt and sweat and the hormones, jesus christ, hes never been able to taste if somebodys horny before but its rolling off of him in waves.......and gordons breath comes out so loud and harsh and desperate when benreys leg lifts up a little bit for him to slot his own between them more easily

just mumbling stupid horny shit like "fuck benrey, you taste so good" while his tongue lolls out of his mouth and he licks the curve of benreys ear and rolls benrey onto his stomach b/c something in the back of his brain is whispering to him that it would be a really, really good idea, and hes originally got benrey just crushed flat against the floor with his full body weight but benrey takes a rattling breath and tells him to ease up, get up offa him.....

and gordons confused at this point b/c he was pretty sure this was where this was going, he was being a good boy, but that thought doesnt last very long b/c benreys shuffling into position under him, raising his hips and pushing gordons up with him while his face and torso are flat against the floor, and, Oh. hes. hes doing that. this is what theyre fucking doing now

> gordon taking the collar of benrey’s shirt in his mouth in an crude imitation of scruffing him

every fucking bone in gordons body is telling him to move his hips, fuck benrey stupid, bury himself to the hilt, but he cant do that when theyre both still clothed so he does the next best thing and ruts against benrey like he fucking means it and like if he just tries hard enough, gets enough friction, itll be just like fucking him for real......

hes so dizzied by looping thoughts of he wants this, he wants you to mount him, like youre a filthy fucking animal, arent you? you sick fuck, you wanna mark him and breed him and hed let you, hed beg you for it, look, hes doing it right now and when he comes back down to earth, yeah, benrey is begging right now, isnt he. while hes palming at the front of his sweatpants and whimpering and calling gordon a good boy, attempting to tug his pants down to his knees so gordon can rut against bare flesh, and gordon slows down just enough to let him do it and to fumble open his own zipper to ease some of the agonizing pressure

gordon fumbling his dick out of his underwear to line it up between benreys fat cheeks and god, the feeling of skin against skin is so much fucking better than chafing against his jeans that it makes him growl against benreys neck and benrey cant pump his fucking dick fast enough. hes so encouraging, what with all those little sounds hes making and the way hes arching his back and pressing his hips up as high as theyll go, groaning into the crook of his arm "fuckin, fuck me, bro, j-just like that"

> thinking...... they both get so lost in it, they both can’t hold back long enough to fuck for real. this is too hot, benrey feels something hot and wet on his ass and gordon is curling into him. benrey’s never felt so simultaneous turned on and frustrated that he’s still empty, he’s still gonna have to wait, snd ironically that denial pushes him over too

GOD yes fuckin. coming on his ass b/c gordons so frantic and desperate that he cant wait...... but seeing his cum all over benreys ass is deeply satisfying in its own way. he smears it deep into benreys skin to mark him like that

> oh hey imma be nasty sorry but Gordon all cum-high just sort of manouvering Benrey until he can start licking his cock clean bc he likes to uh. i mean benrey's all wet and you know. he likes it. and benrey comes from that, before he can even think about sucking him off properly

> he doesnt have a thought left in his head at the moment... and can u blame him? so he just uh follows he nose.......  and benrey's brain is deleted except for "GORDON FREEMAN ON MY DICK????????" bouncing around like a screensaver yes

> yeah he's not even trying to suck him off really, hes not gotten that far yet cuz hes so cumbrained, gone stupid, etc

im gonna be gross here too okay......and like. fucking. huffing and burying his nose into the crook of benreys thighs b/c he smells so intensely like sex and sweat and it makes gordon lightheaded

> YEAAH maybe he starts licking there before he gets up to his dick. it's not like he's dragging it out really so it's not long but benrey's gaping like a fish. he's trying to say something sorta but he can't get any words out and isn't even sure what he himself is trying to say

maybe he cant help himself and he just starts licking and biting on impulse b/c its your resident fuckin thigh guy here and i think benrey deserves to get em chomped like a drumstick

> and then that's gordon's tongue on his dick, bro and this neurotic mf looking so pleased and blissed out as he sloppily licks him all over is a sight he couldn't have even cooked up in his imagination before now

> benrey not coherently enough to warn him he’s like right there, his babbling incoherently at the tease of gordon’s nose and lips is gonna make him- and then his Tounge darts out and it’s over, the start of the end and he’s spurting all over gordon’s completely surprised face without even being jerked or licked through it

> maybe since gordon's been so stressed and keyed up for so long that benrey coming is a surprise but still doesn't shock him enough to clear the cumbrain, so he licks ben clean after that too, while he's twitching and whimpering etc

> think that benrey massive meat being useless and barely even touched is hip and rad even in the context of him technically being in the higher position of power

> then rests his head on beny's belly for a while, feeling very accomplished and tired. he'll panic later, don't worry

god im still thinking about. pillow humping/voyeurism

gordon freemans a bad fucking dog and sometimes he cant help himself and just starts rutting into a pillow with his ass up and his face buried in one of benreys undershirts while hes just panting and mumbling shit the whole time about benrey, benrey, benrey, why is he so fucking obsessed with benrey and with thinking about mounting him just like hes doing to his poor abused pillow every week

and. you know. maybe one day......benrey kind of.....catches him in the act. i think that would be cool. just coming home one day and cracking open his bedroom door and seeing gordon freeman on all fours, his teeth sunk deep into one pillow and another pillow between his thighs, desperately fucking it while hes groaning benreys name b/c he sure as shit was not expecting him back that early, which is why his cumbrain made him feel confident enough to crawl into benreys bed and roll around in it and mainline benreys scent from his clothes and nut on his pillow (and then feel fucking bad about it and frantically try to clean it off)

and benrey just slooowly steps back with his heart pounding out of his chest for possibly the first time in his whole life b/c he did not think gordon freeman ever wanted to fuck him, but here he is, using benreys pillow as an imitation of the real thing and jerking off in his bed

just turns right the fuck back around and goes into the bathroom and splashes some water on his face and stares down at his sudden boner

THANKS FOR READING ALL OF THIS B/C THIS ISNT EVEN GETTING INTO THE PISS STUFF THAT WEVE OBVIOUSLY BEEN THINKING ABOUT. SORRY FOR BEING LIKE THIS

[nctloveclub]

mamihlapinatapai

– pairing: mark lee x reader

– genre: angst!

– words: 2.25k

– a/n: its been a while since ive posted but i hope you like it :D i hope to get back into writing after putting it off for so long :(

(n.) a look shared by two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something they both desire but which neither wants to begin

you and mark were best friends, but the two of you haven't known each other long

like usually best friends have known each other since their childhood but you and mark had met in your second year of high school !

it wasn't anything extraordinary just simple. he ended up coming to class late and he had picked the seat next to you.

it was strange at first because it was like ??? ummm who ??? my friend usually sits there ???? (but they were home sick that day oooooh)

so the next day mark sits in the same seat next to you and when you're friend walks in they give you a look and you just shrug

they give you a wink and just sit in the seat in front of you

then that's when mark actually starts talking to you

hes a little shy at first just introducing himself to you and you do the same

at lunch mark ends up finding you and sits across from you

not gonna lie the air is a little awkward but two of you take the lunch period to actually talk and get to know each other

you find out that you had actually went to the same middle school but just in different friend crowds

the conversation was just simple

that's a word that would describe yours' and mark's relationship: simple

he was a breath of fresh air

he was something new, someone who you got along with

over the course of the year, the two of you had actually gotten closer and mark had actually befriended your other friend

"sorry i took your seat...."

your friend just looks at him and laughs, "dude its fine it's just a seat. if anything im glad you helped my little y/n get out of their shell."

you send a playful glare at your friend's way and continue the conversation you had with mark

eventually, your third year of high school has begun and the both of you are extremely close, like no one can separate the two of you

youre sad when you find out mark and you only share the same lunch period, having the same classes but different periods

"it's alright, i'll see you at lunch." he smiles and you nod, mark walking you to your first period

you dread your first day, making small talk with the people around you but you don't mind, impatiently waiting till lunch starts

you and mark immediately meet up, looking for a place to sit in the crowded cafeteria

you sit in a somewhat secluded area, there are still tables surrounding you but it's mostly away from the crowd

the two of you catch up and talk about how your first day has been going

soon enough lunch ends and mark's walking you to your 6th period

the day comes to an end and mark is waiting for you at the front of school, waiting to walk you home

"you know you don't have to walk me, you literally live in the opposite direction." you say as the two of you begin your walk

"i know, i do it because i want to." he replies nonchalantly and for the first time you feel something in your stomach

you feel butterflies in your stomach when mark walks you to your doorstep and they intensify when he gives you a hug before leaving

you watch as mark walks in the direction of his home and cant but wonder what the hell you were feeling

the school year continues to go on and everyday feels like a routine

mark walks you to school and first period, the day goes on, you meet at lunch and he walks you home

but as everyday passes, you cant help but feel more butterflies creep in your stomach as you see mark or when he holds your hand

what you didnt know was that mark had felt the same way, he had started to feel nervous around you, that he couldn’t think straight around you, you made his heart race and his face heat up

he started to become more affectionate towards you, holding your hand more often and wrapping his arm around you casually and also occasionally giving you forehead kisses

mark was just the sweetest boy ever and you couldn't believe that he really was your best friend, he made you feel like you were in a movie, that you were a protagonist in a love novel

he made you feel like you were on clouds and that whenever you were with him you felt like home

it took time for you to fully realize that you had fallen in love with your best friend

mark had also started to pick up on the fact that you were constantly blushing around him and he made you nervous

he felt a weight lifted off his chest, that maybe you reciprocated the feelings he had for you* but as they say, all good things must come to an end eventually

mark had told you that he wanted to become an idol, that music was his passion and something he wanted to pursue

of course you were supportive of him, you wanted to give the whole world to him

you always gave him words of encouragement and praised him for his talent

"remember me when you're famous mark." you say to him one day

"come on y/n, i'll never forget you. besides who said im gonna be famous one day, what if i don't end up making it anywhere?"

your eyes gape at him. "'mark are you serious? of course you're gonna be famous. you're one if the most talented people i know. if anyone were to become famous it would be you, you deserve it. you've worked so hard to achieve your dreams and you're an amazing rapper.

dont ever undermine yourself mark. and if anything, i'll always be here for you. i'll always be here to support you"

mark almost starts crying at your words and he can see the look the in your eyes that meant you meant every word you said

he didn't know what he did in his past life to deserve you but he's glad that he was able to meet you that fateful day

so mark begins his own training, starting to write songs, practice singing and dancing to become an idol

he tells you at lunch one day that a kpop company was gonna be holding global auditions next week and that he's gonna try

you're obviously excited for him and tell him to not worry and that he's gonna make it, that the company would be an absolute fool to not recruit him

then next week comes and mark misses a day of because of auditions

you don't mind, sending him a quick message telling him good luck !!! you got this dude :D

_also you'll be fine stop worrying :_p

the next day mark is back at school and he's anxiously waiting for the company to contact him to see if he made it to the second round

you notice it and reassure him that he'll be fine

but he looks at you and you notice that there's also something else on his mind, you don't question him yet though. he doesn't seem in the right head space

"mark what's wrong?" you ask as mark walks you home

your hand is intertwined in his, and he’s looking down on the sidewalk,

he looks up at you, "what do you mean?"

"at lunch, you seemed pretty anxious about the audition, but something else seemed off about you."

"well yeah im nervous. i think im gonna make it though, the audition was fine." he tells you and your brows furrow

"then whats the problem?" you ask, your voice more quiet

"the company is based in korea. i mean you already knew that but still. if i make it to second and end up passing it, i'll be moving to korea to become an idol." mark explains and your heart stops for a bit

the realization has sunk in your head

all this time you've been encouraging mark and letting him live out his dream but you never realized that you were gonna end up losing him

you feel your eyes start to water and you look up at him, already looking back at you

"dont cry, please." he tells you softly, bringing you into a hug, "i dont want to lose you but i can't hold you back." you whisper into his chest

"but what about us?" he asks, his voice sad

that question was hung in the air, what was gonna happen to you and mark?

you had come to fact that you were in love with him but this was his dream

maybe you could be selfish once, to tell him to stay, to try and pursue a career here, at home

but that wouldn't be fair to mark, this was something he dreamed about, you wouldn't allow yourself be the reason he stayed home

"nothing is gonna happen to us, i'll still be here to support you, even if you're thousands of miles away, i'll always be here for you."

the rest of the walk to your house was quiet, mark having attached you to his side and he didnt seem to plan to let you go anytime soon

when you arrived at your house, mark held you into his arms and his eyes looked into yours

you noticed the gleam in them, full of sadness and longing

you felt your mind screaming at you, to make the first move, to show mark how much you love him before it's too late

but you couldn't bring yourself to do it, it'd be too selfish

mark felt the same emotional turmoil

he wanted to hold you in his arms and just spend the rest of his life with you

he could see the sadness in your eyes and he realized what he would truly be giving up to achieve his dreams

his mind wanted him to just confess his love there, to just cup your cheeks and press his lips to yours

as the two of you gazed into each others eyes, you both came to the realization that you were both feeling the same thing

but the two of you couldn't bring yourself to do it, and with that you separated

mark had finally let go of your waist and you both moved away

you walk into your home and mark went to his

the next day mark tells you he made it to the second round and you give him a smile

a smile mark can see right through

he knows how heartbroken you feel and the pain you feel

he just wished he wasnt the cause of it

the school year is coming to an end and you'll become a senior

mark had ended up passing the second audition and he and his family would be moving to korea

the day he told you, you broke into tears

tears of joy and happiness but also of pain

you were beyond ecstatic for him, he was finally gonna achieve his dream of becoming an idol

but he was leaving, and you wouldnt know if he was ever gonna come back

the school year ends and mark tells you that he'll be moving to korea next week, where he'll be training and starting his senior year

you dread the next couple days

you and mark are inseparable, spending all the time you can before he goes

time goes by quick, one minute the two of you are having a movie night in your living room and the next you're saying your goodbyes at the airport

"i'm sorry y/n" mark tells you

"for what"

"for leaving."

"hey don't be sorry for that, you're pursuing something thats gonna make you happy and that's all i ever want from you, for you to be happy." you say, tears falling from your eyes

mark starts to cry at your words, his thumbs moving to wipe away your tears, which actually make them fall harder

he brings you into a hug and you look up at him and stare into his eyes one last time

the eyes that always made you happy, the eyes that always looked at you in adoration,

the eyes that always made you feel at home

the two can feel the longing the other holds, but you both can't bring yourself to do it

as the two of you continue to hug until mark has to leave you whisper the three words you've yearned to tell him

"i love you." you say, looking right into his eyes

"i love you too."

you hear mark's parents call for him, telling him that they have to board soon

the two of you finally separate and you're full on crying

mark begins to walk off before turning around and giving you one last smile, one you return through your tears

you watch as mark board and you wait and watch as his plane leaves, officially separating you from the boy you love

mark looks out the plane window, watching as the airport begins to get smaller and smaller

he lets out a sigh and feels his heart ache

you take out your phone and text mark, knowing he'll see it when he lands

i love you, dont forget me when you're famous ;)

"oh how could i ever forget you"

[galadrieljones]

The Lily Farm - Chapter 46

AO3 | Masterpost

Pairing: Arthur x Mary Beth

Rating: M (Mature) - sexual content, violence, and adult themes

Summary: After Sean’s death, Mary Beth asks Arthur to take her on a hunting trip, somewhere far away. What takes place at first is a simple love story: full of trials and journeys that they must endure together, as a team. But over time, things complicate. The gang is in trouble, and as Arthur and Mary Beth aim to set out on their own one day, they must find a way to help those they love while eventually, finding escape. Their ultimate goal is to go north with the Marstons, to find the bucolic stretches of Wisconsin where, rumor has it, there are lily farms. Will they make it? How will they survive when all hope seems lost? This is their story.

Chapter 46: The Widow of Willard’s Rest, Pt. 1

***BEGINNING OF PART IV: AMERICAN PASTORAL***

Most days at Deer Cottage, Arthur would wake up early. He would go outside to chop firewood, and then he’d kindle the fire and drink coffee and smoke cigarettes outside. Most mornings, he would fish, but as the days were getting colder and shorter, sometimes he would just set up a trap line on the Kamassa to leave out all day instead, and then hike back up the ridge to the wooded hinterlands and hunt whitetail. He always rode home with enough to cook, smoke, and cure. He would then come back down to the river, empty out the fish trap and with any luck find a sturgeon or a largemouth bass. His new filly Leah, who he named for another character that he remembered from the Old Testament, which he had learned to read from many years before, was a fast girl and even in her temperament. She did not always take well to strange animals, and she had a wary look in her eye upon most passers-through. But she was wise to predators and upon Arthur’s constant and gentle reassurance, mostly a brave and kind girl.

Mary Beth seemed to need a lot of sleep, meanwhile. But she would stay up late knitting sweaters for everybody she knew, as winter was coming now, and she was anxious, and she needed something to keep her hands busy. Most days she did not wake up until Arthur was already busy with his routine, elsewhere, having left her a note or sometimes a little drawing with a pot of coffee on the stove. She wanted to be useful. She was used to having chores, hence the sweaters, and they were scarce on laundry so she made sure to keep things clean. She tidied the cottage in its every corner. There wasn’t much for berries this time of year, but Arthur had found an apple tree and with the dwindling autumn crop, she would bake. She read everything she could find, over and over again, and she wrote prose here and there, but her mind was occupied with a lot of worry and restlessness those days. The baby, the gang. Arthur would take her out shooting, and this seemed to help. He taught her to use every kind of gun. She tended the horses in the barn, which Arthur had built with help from Hamish over a period of one week. It was ramshackle business, but it would do.

Arthur and Mary Beth had been lying low in Roanoke Ridge now for three months. Together they rode into Annesburg at the end of every week, on Sunday, to check the post for word from Dutch, and to buy supplies and the newspaper. Annesburg was a mining community, and its little camps of gutter homes all lined up in a row made Mary Beth sad. As a boomtown, however, Arthur had said it reminded him of Virginia City, Nevada, a place to which he had traveled many years before right after he’d been more or less adopted by Dutch and Hosea. “They took me there,” he told her one Sunday, as they rode into town, down from the hills, “and we set up shop for many weeks. I pulled my weight in the gang at the blackjack tables for a long time, and I knew how to wrangle, and looking back, weren’t nobody better at keeping his head down than me.” He then sighed and grew stoic with concern. “Virginia City is where Susan taught me a thing or two about dancing,” he said, too, chewing on a reed or a piece of bark, smoking a cigarette, wearing an old cowboy hat given to him as a gift from Hamish. He was trying to make her feel better. The gunsmith in Annesburg was chatty and liked their company, too, so they would often make conversation with him. He thought they were implants from the western plains, looking to start a new life, and they supposed it was not altogether untrue.

There was still no word from Dutch. But the papers were quiet, which was a good sign. There had been a story on the “riverboat massacre” some weeks back—that’s what they’d called it down at the St. Denis Times—but no civilians had been killed, and authorities did not seem to know who or what had caused the blow-up. It had been reported that Angelo Bronte, foreign national and local philanthropist, had gone missing for a time, but he was back now, and safe, having claimed to be on vacation up the river, and though this was suspicious, there was not much to make of the feeling. Meanwhile the Mayor was in trouble with the state government for something or other. It looked like he might even get ousted from office. But Arthur did not keep up with politics. He didn’t care what happened to Lemieux nor Bronte, for he and Mary Beth were long gone, and they were never going back to Lemoyne.

There had been one letter in all those months—from Ranger Call. He kept coy and symbolic in his language, but in the letter, he hinted at a complicating factor involving John and the federal penitentiary. This worried them both gravely. Apparently, there was a hold-up on moving the gang to a more permanent relocation, and they’d had to take temporary shelter in Lakay until the problem was solved. But this had been weeks before. The letter also said they were going west, maybe. Or continuing north. That was what Dutch had claimed, but there was uncertainty.

Some members of the gang had gone, claimed Woodrow. Namely, Micah. The asshole feller with the handlebar mustache, he wrote. He went by the wayside when the Man attenuated their plans to rob a city bank. Some wonder if he is even still alive, as a couple days before his disappearance, he had gotten in a tussle with Mr. Matthews, who threatened his life. He said there would be more news when the gang found camp once more. Do not come to Lakay, Mr. Morgan, said the letter. For the Man has sent scouts high and low, from the Grizzlies East to the Big Valley. There will be salvation soon. In the meantime, Mr. Matthews thinks it would be safest, per Mrs. Morgan’s condition, and for how recognizable you have become down here in Lemoyne, for the two of you to remain where you are. The letter also contained information about the Wintersons. They are okay, it said. They are in Chicago and will return in a matter of months. This was a relief. Of course, they tried not to fret too much over John, as all they could do from here was, ironically enough, have faith that it was under control, counting on both Dutch and Hosea as so often they had done in the past.

In the end, there was very little else that Arthur and Mary Beth could do now but survive, not until they got word on where to go next. Hamish had traveled up to visit them on a few occasions. He was doing okay, and he and Arthur would hunt big game during the day and then at twilight they would all go fishing. Other than the constant worrying over John and the rest of the gang, and the occasional fears for the coming winter, and the baby, the way they were living up there in the Roanoke Valley, it wasn’t so bad. There was so much solitude, privacy, time to just be together. It was a privilege they had not been able to entertain in a very long time. Sometimes at night, Mary Beth would cook up a fine dinner, and they would play music on the gramophone, dance as they had that first night they had admitted their love to one another so long ago. Of course they laughed while they did it. It was silly, and they were rare to approach these sorts of sentimental affairs without sarcasm those days. But that was the point. Arthur would fashion a flower from behind her ear, little magic tricks that he had picked from Josiah, and they would talk and play cards and sip whiskey tea. Arthur had a way of letting it all roll right off of him, like raindrops on a tin roof, and that reassured Mary Beth and got her to focus on the day-to-day. She knew how he held the big picture in his mind like a story, navigating the plot, keeping calm. He had not always been so calm, he thought. This was such a positive development for him that had taken some time, and a lot of work. She was starting to show a little bit now, under her dress. They both saw it. Whenever he himself wanted soothing, he would place his head in her lap in the evenings while they listened to music and looked at the fire. She would tell him stories she made up out of the ether. Stories about escaped princesses with swords and poison arrows, and the country knights who loved and defended them. In Mary Beth’s stories, the knights needed protection, too. They were not immortal, or demigods. Just men, she would say. Arthur liked her stories very much.

One day, when the weather was nice, Arthur and Mary Beth rode north up the river with a mind to do some fishing near Brandywine Drop. They kept riding as the sun was warming their backs from its place in the sky, and it felt good. There had been snow already up in these hills, but it was melting off the trees that day and muddy, and Arthur shot a cougar from a distance with his rifle and then together they observed a moose nosing its way through the pines. They decided to camp after clearing the area for Murfree Brood. There were none about that day. Before the sun went down that day, they were just riding up the river, looking for a place to camp when they came upon a woman up the hillside, under a ridge, crying. When they found her, she was sitting on her knees in front of a wooden cross stuck in the dirt, a grave. She was not dressed warm enough for the weather, and she was very dirty. She had dark hair falling apart all around her face in pieces. Both Arthur and Mary Beth were concerned. They approached on horseback. When she saw them, she staggered to her feet and looked terrified. She clutched herself. Arthur stayed back, but Mary Beth got off her horse. She went toward the woman carefully, with her hands in front of her. She said, “It’s okay. We ain’t gonna hurt you.”

The woman looked around, like she was hopeless. She seemed to trust Mary Beth, as most did. “Who are you?” she said.

“I’m Mary Beth, and this is my husband Arthur," she said. "We’ve been living in a cottage just down the river. We’ve been there a few months. How long have you been up here?”

The woman looked back to Arthur, who removed his hat in chivalry. He still did not dismount his horse. He knew what he must have looked like out here to a woman all on her own. He didn’t want to scare her.

“Um,” said the woman, as if gathering her faculties. “We came here—a month ago? Maybe more. I don’t know.”

“Who’s we, ma’am?” said Arthur. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“My husband and me,” she said. She seemed to brace herself, then looked back at the cross, the grave. She was crying, a little. “We came out here from back east, Philadelphia.”

Mary Beth got a little closer. She stood beside the woman. “What happened?”

The woman dried her eyes on her sleeve. She shook her head in a combination of sadness and shock. “A bear,” she said, staring at the grave. “It was horrifying. He survived, but only a couple of days."

“Oh my,” said Mary Beth, in near on disbelief. She placed her hand on the woman’s shoulder to comfort her. The woman did not protest.

“I buried him, maybe a week ago," she said.

Mary Beth glanced back to Arthur, who shook his head in sadness. This was worse than it seemed, they both thought together, and they were needed. He got off his horse and came over. When he did, the woman looked up at him. She was very small, smaller than Mary Beth even. But Arthur had a way of softening his demeanor when he wanted to. He took a deep breath. “We are very sorry for your loss, ma’am,” he said.

“Thank you.” She seemed confused, like she was getting lost in his eyes, or like somehow she had forgotten where she was.

“Is there a town, or a train station that we can take you to?" he said. "You shouldn’t be out here alone. I know you’re—I know you’re grieving, but it really ain’t safe.”

“What?” she said. She snapped out of it then, almost immediately. “No. No, I can’t leave.”

“All do respect, ma’am, but why not?”

"Because it was our dream.”

“Your dream?”

“Yes,” said the woman, almost defiant. “We came out here from the city in search of a different life. Something true. Something real. I hate to say that we found it, in the worst possible way, but we did. And I can’t leave now. I can’t leave him behind.” She looked back to the grave. She closed her eyes. "For you." She said his name then, which was Cal.

Mary Beth, still with her hand on the woman’s shoulder, was looking at Arthur like she didn’t quite know how to proceed. They couldn’t leave the woman alone up here. It was feral country, and winter was coming. Surely, she would die. Arthur shrugged. Mary Beth did, too.

“What’s your name?” she said, to the woman.

“Charlotte,” said the woman. “Charlotte Balfour.”

“Well, Charlotte,” said Mary Beth. “Maybe we can help you then, get back on your feet.”

Charlotte looked at them like they were crazy. “Help me?”

“Yeah,” said Mary Beth. “Me and Arthur—well, Arthur especially—we been living on the range a long time, and like I said, we’re so nearby.”

“You’ll starve out here,” said Arthur, watching the woman, closely. “That is, if something else don't get to you first. Bear, mountain lions, or worse. You know how to hunt?”

Charlotte laughed to herself then. It was a strange sound amidst all the sadness. “No,” she said. “Of course not. And of course, I’m nearly out of food.”

Arthur smiled at this. “Well, we’ll teach you.”

“You’ll teach me?”

“Of course,” said Arthur. “Mary Beth here, even she knows how to use a rifle.”

“Ain’t nothing to it,” said Mary Beth.

Charlotte watched them, like she didn't fully understand, but she was listening. Somewhere far away, there was a loon going off, ringing in the twilight. The air was getting colder as the sun was going down past the ridge line. “Okay,” she said, with hesitance.

“Good,” said Arthur, almost soft now. He was half-groomed that day. He’d let Mary Beth cut his hair, had trimmed down his beard. It was probably a good thing. When you could see his eyes, his whole face, he had a kind and a sturdy look that most people trusted. He really was a warm man. “You got a rifle?” he went on. “If not, that’s okay. We got guns.”

“I do,” she said. “I have a couple.”

“Where’s your house?”

“Up the ridge,” she said. “Come, I’ll show you.”

They followed her up a long path to a small homestead painted green. There was a barn and a chicken coup. The coup was bustling, but it looked to Mary Beth that the eggs had not been harvested in a while. “You got eggs here,” she said. “Do you mind if I bring some in for you?”

“Oh,” said Charlotte, like she had not noticed. She was so thin. It looked like she probably had not eaten or slept proper since her husband, maybe not since Philadelphia. “Of course not. Thank you.”

“Any time.”

Mary Beth gathered a dozen or so into her skirt. When she came over, Charlotte seemed to notice then that she might have been pregnant, but she didn’t say anything. They stood on the porch. Arthur was quiet and calm, chewing on a toothpick.

Before she let them in the house, Charlotte stopped with her hand on the door handle. She looked inquisitive and she said, “What—or, who exactly are you?” She seemed embarrassed by the question, like she’d meant to say something more formal. “I just mean—why have you come to the Roanoke Valley? What is it that you do here?”

Mary Beth smiled.

“We’ve had all manner of jobs,” said Arthur. “We been on the road for some time now, and the road gets weary. Like you, we’re looking for a new life.”

This seemed to reassure Charlotte. She smiled down at her muddy but elegant boots. “Oh," she said. "Well, I should say, you look like farmers, or ranchers, maybe? Salt of the earth, if you will.”

“You ain’t wrong,” said Arthur. But he said not more. They went inside then, where Charlotte showed them around her modest home. There was lovely wallpaper and heavy oak furniture. Charlotte was digging around in a big leather trunk by the window, and Arthur and Mary Beth were waiting patiently, but by the time she finally found the rifles and the bullets, it was getting dark, and too cold to go back outside.

“Oh, good heavens,” she said, looking out the window, then at her watch. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Arthur.

“Would you stay the night?” she asked them, like she was desperate. She’d been picking at the skin around her fingernails, Mary Beth had noticed. She was so nervous, and worried, and scared and sad and alone. Mary Beth had not met another woman like her since they'd picked up Sadie up near Colter. “I have an extra bedroom," Charlotte went on, "with a bed big enough for the two of you. I just—now that you’ve come, I—”

“Sure,” said Mary Beth. She went to the kitchen table to sort the eggs into a basket, and Arthur was just sort of wandering around with his shotgun still slung over his shoulder. There were some pictures hanging on the wall of Charlotte and the man who must have been her husband, pictures which he was looking at. “We’ll stay. Right, baby?”

“Huh?” said Arthur, only half-listening as he looked at the pictures.

“I said, we’ll stay. We can go out and have a fresh start in the morning. Right?"

He surfaced then, looked at her, easy-going. “Sure,” he said. “Why not?”

Charlotte was relieved.

She showed them to their room. It was simple but beautiful with a high, brass bed and a white comforter stuffed with down feathers. There was not much for food that night, so Arthur stoked the hearth and went back out in the dark to hunt some rabbit, alone, while Mary Beth fried a couple of eggs and made her famous whiskey tea. Charlotte ate the eggs hungrily, though Mary Beth could still sense her trying to be demure about it. They sat on the small sofa together, sipping the tea then, looking at the fire. Mary Beth felt warm and comfortable and though she felt bad for Charlotte, and she could not herself imagine losing her husband and still finding a way to survive, she tried not to pity her, for she, too, had once been a woman all alone in the wild, and after all, she was glad to have a job now, something to do, somebody to help. For a while there, it seemed she and Arthur were always the ones who needed saving.

“Your husband,” said Charlotte after a little while. She was distant, sobered. “He seems very…sturdy, and wise. And you do, too. Do the two of you always know exactly what to do?”

The question was earnest. Mary Beth found it amusing. “Of course not,” she said. “We have found ourselves in our fair share of trouble over the years. But when it comes to surviving in the wild, it's true that we’ve got skills.”

“How long have you been married?” said Charlotte. The fire crackled. The room was warm.

“Not too long,” said Mary Beth. “Maybe four or five months? I am losing track of the weeks now. But we have known each other for a lot longer than that.”

“How did you meet?” said Charlotte.

Mary Beth took a long drink of her tea. She looked at Charlotte and could tell that she was just desperately lonely, that she needed preoccupation and companionship. Mary Beth didn’t want to lie to her. “We met in Kansas City,” she said, shoving the hair out of her face. Her curls were messy from the day. “I was only nineteen, living completely on my own. I was an orphan, and I didn’t have nothing to my name. I was in trouble back then, and alone. Like you. But I met Arthur and his…well, his family, I guess. They took me in.”

Charlotte was listening, rapt. She seemed surprised, maybe, that it was so bad. Like she did not know what to say. It seemed her instinct then to back off. She didn’t ask for anymore details, but she did not close herself off emotionally. She just had a certain polish about her, a certain sheen, even despite her current predicament. For this, and coupled with everything else from the wallpaper to the fine quality of her leather boots, Mary Beth could tell she came from money. “You're so brave," said Charlotte, shaking her head. "It's terrible you had to go through all of that."

"I am no worse for the wear," said Mary Beth. "I found Arthur from it. But thank you."

"My husband and I had all the safety in the world,” she said then, shaking her head like it was just so stupid, so small and silly in comparison. “And still, it wasn’t enough. What a pair of fools.” She closed her eyes. A little tear plopped out. “This was his dream, to escape our lives," she said. "Our lives of privilege, of predictability. And I followed him.”

“I understand that,” said Mary Beth.

“How is it that you’re not afraid?” she said then, opening her wide, pale eyes. “Living…on the range, as you said earlier. All alone? Everything you’ve been through. It sounds so hard, and terrifying. I’ve never known hardship before—before all this. I am a stupid woman, and I am starting to wonder now if I should have been smarter. Maybe I should have been more argumentative, said no. Maybe we never should have come here.” She looked away, at the hardwood floors, which looked new.

“Well, I do get afraid,” said Mary Beth, sincerely. She placed her hand on Charlotte’s hand where they sat in front of the fire. “I get afraid all the damn time."

"You do?"

"Yes. Mostly of losing Arthur," said Mary Beth, "as I have lost so much before him, and I know what that’s like. Losing. As I said, I understand. But listen, Charlotte. It don’t matter where you come from, or who you are. There’s always something better out there, waiting. That's what I'm learning. There’s always something to escape from, and there’s always somewhere better you’re trying to be. You should try not to regret what you did. You don’t know what might’ve happened if you’d stayed in the city. Life is so fragile, I think, and you got to do what you want. It’s easy to worry too much. We gotta...keep perspective. For as long as we can. That's what I'm doing right now. I'm keeping perspective. Arthur helps me with that. There's a lot going on in my life, that's scary, but you know, you don't really find the meaning in life on your own. It finds you. Like with me and Arthur. We was friends for…years, before love found us. Life can be real bad, I reckon, but you never know what’s gonna happen that’s good. Right? So you just gotta keep living, and that’s it, right?” She sat back and placed her hand on her little tummy, as if to reassure herself with the same words she was using to try and reassure Charlotte. "You just gotta try." She sipped her tea and smiled in such a way so that she would seem strong, and like she knew what she was talking about. It was true, she herself was struggling with such similar predicaments, but her husband was alive, and in that, she was the sturdier woman on the sofa that day, by far, so she acted like it.

Charlotte, meanwhile, was staring at Mary Beth, and then looking down into her tea and then back at the fire. They heard Arthur’s heavy boots then, out on the porch. They both glanced toward the sound with immense relief. Charlotte then suddenly looked back to Mary Beth, brightening up a little. She was not okay, but Mary Beth had hit on something it seemed—she was reassured. “Thank you,” she said. “So much. I hate to be a burden to strangers. But you are good people.”

Mary Beth waved her off as the atmosphere between them changed and grown more comfortable. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “And I hope we won’t stay strangers for long.”

Charlotte smiled. “Me, too.”

Arthur came in the door then. He took off his hat and shook the cold off. He had two rabbits, skinned and cleaned and tied together, laying over his shoulder. “Lord in heaven, it’s cold out there,” he said. He looked at them fondly then, huddled on the sofa, blowing into his hands. “But you two ladies look nice and cozy.”

“Is those rabbits ready to cook?” said Mary Beth.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” said Charlotte. She rose from the sofa. Went to him and took the rabbits off his hands. “Thank you, so much, Arthur.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said. He rubbed his hands together and looked at Mary Beth. “You got anymore of that tea, my lady?”

“Yes, sir,” said Mary Beth. She got up to pour him some. He took off his jacket and went to warm himself by the fire, and when she handed him the mug, he thanked her and kissed her on the head. Then he came and sat at the kitchen table. Mary Beth helped Charlotte to prepare a stew and they all three of them chatted for a while. Charlotte had some carrots, cabbage, and salt in her pantry, which they chopped up and used generously. As they were sitting down for dinner a little while later, they looked out the window. It was starting to snow.

“Sweet Christmas,” said Mary Beth. “Is that snow?”

“I guess we’re in it,” said Arthur, amused. He seemed so relaxed there, so deeply in his element. He tucked one of Charlotte’s fine cloth napkins into his collar. “Winter is upon us."

“I guess so,” said Charlotte, like she was unsure. They ate their stew.

As they did, the wind howled through the chimney, filling the room with its strange reminder of all the uncertainty beyond, all of which seemed so inconsequential while they were safe and sound there inside those walls. So much had started, finished, been found, and lost. And yet, there was still so much to do, it seemed, to weather the storm.

[mo-nighean-rouge]

Gone- IV

Jamie Fraser prepares to send Claire and Faith through the stones. A last-minute interference puts them all at stake.

A/N: Thanks to my bonnie beta @abbydebeaupreposts for telling me what needed to go, and what could be done better. This chapter happens to correspond to @gotham-ruaidh‘s writing prompt, “Five Years.”

Part I | Part II | Part III | AO3

Previously:

Jamie placed an open hand at Claire’s belly. “Name him Brian?” he whispered. “After my Da.”

Claire nodded as he lifted her right hand and kissed her ring, followed by each finger, then placed it on the tallest stone. “Until we meet again.”

They faded away before his eyes, just as Claire had nearly done on another bleak morning, years ago.

They were gone.

November 1, 1953 | Oxford, England

Jamie rolled his shoulders against the stiff, artificial material of his new coat. He marveled once more as he took in his surroundings. Claire’s stories about her time had been full of rich descriptions, but his meager imaginings didn’t match the sights he observed now.

Events from the past few months were a blur, save Fergus conspiring with the local men to break him out of prison at Fort William. Fergus. Though Jamie’s heart ached to leave him behind, he had no choice in the matter. The lad had not heard the call of the stones. Thinking about that beastly place turned his wame almost the same way as thinking about Fergus. Jenny and Ian. The bairns that called him uncle.

He thought instead about his son. He would be nearing his fifth birthday and while he had missed so much already, Jamie could not wait to finally join his family in a period of safety.

Even still, the air felt trapped in his lungs as he turned down one narrow street after another, closing in on the most recent address listed for the Randall family. Seeing those words printed together so matter-of-factly had sent chills through him. Much as he knew it was right, he had little idea of what would occur once he walked back into their lives. James Fraser, forced by circumstance to be nothing more than an absentee father. The last thing he’d ever wished to be in his lifetime. But such injustice would end today.

Jamie’s fingertips stroked the latch of the wee gate as he closed it gently behind him. Had the brass tarnished from Claire’s delicate hand caressing it in the same place each day as she went out into the world to answer the call of those who needed her?

He took a deep breath to steel himself as he climbed the last step and lifted the worn door knocker. He rapped it three times, clearly and confidently, as if to prove that it was no trifling matter that brought him to this place.

The door swung open, but no face was immediately visible on the other side.

Jamie looked down to meet crystal clear blue eyes set in a fine-boned face. Brown curls spilled over her shoulders, much longer than he’d last seen them.

He could scarcely see her through his tears. “A nighean,” he muttered over the knot in his throat.

Faith’s small brow crinkled. “May I help you?” she asked in a polished English accent.

Jamie’s heart fell to his stomach. “It’s m—” Jamie began. “Christ, but I should’ve expected ye might not remember.” He tugged the hat from his head and nervously fiddled with its brim.

“Is your mam home?” he asked softly.

“Faith?” called a deep voice of a cadence strangely familiar to Jamie. A figure stepped into the shadows just behind his lass.

“Faith Randall, you know better than to answer the door to strangers.” The man emerged fully into the light, and Jamie took a defensive step forward as if to put himself between this man and his child.

The man responded with a tight smile and placed a hand on Faith’s shoulder, even as she tensed under his hold. “Pardon me, but I do not believe you have any business here.”

“Frank?” called a soft voice from farther back in the house. Claire suddenly appeared from the recesses of the gloomy interior, and it was as if the sun finally came out on this dreary day. Beside her trailed a wee lad  – smaller than Jamie had expected.

But naught about her was recognizable. The lavender smudges beneath her thin eyelashes made his heart twinge. But what nearly undid him was the empty look in her eyes as they met his.

Claire squinted. “…Jamie?” she asked, as if trying to recall an acquaintance from a different lifetime.

“Aye,” he choked out, leaning forward to see around Frank. “Sassenach—”

“I don’t know what you’re about, but we don’t use that word in this home,” the other man said with an air of haughty reproach and moved to block Jamie’s view.

The bairn tugged on Claire’s hand, trying to get her attention.

She tilted her head toward him disinterestedly.

Jamie’s breath caught as the boy’s cinnamon curls reflected in the light from inside the house. “Will this be Brian?” he asked, hopeful. This was not any thing like the warm, joyful reunion he’d prayed for, but perhaps if he could stay just long enough to meet his son…

Claire cocked her head to the side, an empty smile forming on her lips. “There is no Brian. This our little Jack.”

Colors and sounds swirled around Jamie as he struggled to understand the bizarre scene in front of him. The only thing familiar was Faith, whose eyes hadn’t left him.

“Da?” she asked.

Did she remember him after all?

He stumbled forward to reach her. He’d pry her from Frank’s grasp if he had to, but he needed to touch something that he knew to be real amid this maddening farce. Faith suddenly broke free and ran toward him.

“Da?!” she beseeched.

Jamie woke to the weight of a clammy hand on his cheek. He shakily covered it with his own. Still tiny. Still there. He sat up in the dark and crushed Faith to him, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Taing dhia. What troubles ye, a leannan?”

“A-are ye sad, Da?” her little voice quivered against his chest.

He took a cursory glance to their right and spotted Claire’s tangled cloud of hair on the dusty floor, Fergus tucked under her arm. Just as they had been when he fell asleep earlier that night. “Nay, lass.” Filmy tears ran in his eyes. “No’ so long as ye’re with me.”

Faith snuffled against him.

Jamie stroked her back, realizing he’d likely frightened her with his greeting and thrashing about. “What’s all this, then?”

“ ’M scairt,” she muttered into his shoulder.

“Aye?” he whispered. “Of what?” But he had a terrible feeling that he knew.

“The man,” she whimpered. “He talked nice but he was sae mean, Da.”

Jamie closed his eyes, reminding himself that everything that had transpired in the past day was over. “Ye’ll no’ ever see him again, a chuisle. I swear to ye.”

Faith’s breathing returned to normal as he cradled her against him. She fell asleep with her hand gripping the collar of his shirt.

He wrapped her tighter in Claire’s tartan shawl and laid her next to Fergus, breathing a quick blessing over the both of them. He laid a hand on Claire’s shoulder.

“Mo ghraidh,” he whispered, brushing the back of his hand across her cheek.

Her eyes fluttered open, her face falling as her gaze focused on him. “Is it time?”

“Nay, but I hoped ye’d have a word with me?”

Claire let him pull her up and place a gentle hand on her hip.

Murtagh startled at his post as he registered them passing through the door. His expression lightened only when he saw that Faith was not with them.

Jamie led his bride away from the hill, noting the way her features relaxed the further they traveled from it. He lifted her knuckle to his lips, then held her hand tightly with both of his.

“Sassenach, I must ask your forgiveness…”

Claire began to tug away, features downcast. “Jamie, just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean I don’t understand it. You don’t have to keep defending yourself—” Her hand went limp in his and she spun around to head back to the bairns.

“Claire!” he caught her by the shoulders, forcing her to meet his eye. “I’m asking ye to stay.”

Her eyes widened. “Y-you’re… You’re sure?” Her hands found his tense shoulders.

“Aye. I… I’m no’ sure I can explain it.” He swallowed deeply, placing one hand on her belly. “But I think we can do it. We’ll hide in the priest hole until we can stow away on one of Jared’s ships. Or, Christ, there’s even a cave in the woods at Lallybroch. I’d sleep in a loch if it means I can keep ye…”

Jamie trailed off as he noticed the ravenous look in his wife’s eyes.

Their time together in the wee hours of the morning before had been gentle, savoring what they believed to be their last touches, and saying an impossible goodbye.

But there was something feral in the way that Claire tugged him down and climbed over him now.

She would have her revenge, and he wasn’t of a mind to stand in her way.

________________________________________

They embraced while laying on their sides, hands clasped. Her J entwined with his C, bound once more.

The sun rose over the fairy hill in the distance, casting an eerie glow around it.

The stones could kiss Claire’s English arse for all she cared, now.

She studied the face of her sweet lad, more relaxed now than it had been only moments before. There were still lines of worry caused by the unclear path that lay ahead, to be sure. But his heart still beat steadily beneath her palm, his hot blood warming her to the core.

Claire’s own pulse flickered rapidly as she recalled the events of the last 24 hours. How she’d hated him, and then grieved his loss all at once.

“I was so worried. For you, for Faith.” She knew her voice warbled, but there was hardly anything she could do about it at this point. Her emotions were likely to take free reign now that her deepest fears were relieved.

“I didn’t know how she would react to him…” She paused. “To Frank. The resemblance isn’t always obvious, Jamie. There are times I can almost forget.”

Claire remembered her hands shaking as she had tried to separate the two in her frantic mind that very morning. Was it Jack or Frank that she was cutting down? Or both?

Ultimately, it hadn’t mattered. Not when it was her baby girl in harm’s way.

“I wasn’t sure whether I could have faced him again,” she whispered into Jamie’s neck. “Knowing everything that I do now about the man he so revered.” She shuddered. “He would have touted that inglorious history to our children…”

Jamie had fallen silent, his throat working as he considered his next words. She palmed his cheek and met his eye. Tell me, she implored.

“Claire, I saw it.” The sharp edge returned to his voice, the only way he could speak of what he’d dreamt. “I dinna ken how or why, but I did. Poor Faith shied away from his touch. And…” Jamie ran the pad of his thumb over the bridge of her nose, then tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Your bonny eyes held no life. All the joy was sucked out of ye.” He swallowed.

She stroked his chest through the opening of his shirt as she listened.

"I’m no’ sure if it was yer grief or the despair of Frank's house but it was as if ye couldna even see the bairns,” his words rumbled, ragged.

Claire tilted her head. “Bairns? Not just Faith?” she questioned.

Jamie’s face flushed. “I saw a bonnie lad, Sassenach. Red curls and blue eyes, with yer delicate cheekbones.” He pinched the feature in question, as if marveling that she was still there with him.

“Brian,” she whispered, and watched peace fall over his face.

She held tighter to his hand. “We won’t let that happen. We’ll give them so much of our attention they’ll be sick of us.”

Jamie smirked, then leaned in closer to meet her lips. “All dozen o’ them.”

Claire chortled. “Keep dreaming, Fraser.”

“I think…” She paused to consider. “I think that if it hadn’t been for today, maybe it would have been okay.” She shuddered. “Going back there again. Frank would have done his best, and he would have been good at it.”

Claire paused to brush a rogue curl from his eye. “But it’s all different now.” She took a deep breath. “Thank you. For fighting for us. But also for being willing to give it all up.”

Jamie nodded, overcome, then squeezed his eyes closed. “Anything for ye.”

They watched the light rise in the sky, content to enjoy the first of many moments together in their reclaimed life.

“Murtagh will wonder what’s keeping us.”

Claire smirked, running her fingers through his locks. “One look at your hair and he’ll figure it out.”

Jamie’s hands lost themselves in her curls, then brandished the thistles he’d discovered. He gave her one of his classic attempts at a wink, making her heart soar.

*****************************************

They were both admittedly worse for the wear as they made their way back to the doorway of the ramshackle cabin.

Murtagh raised a bushy eyebrow. “Roll down the hill, did ye?”

Jamie gripped Claire’s hand tightly as they approached him as a united front. “Change of plans, a gostidh.”

*****************************************

They’d curled back up with Faith and Fergus for a scant half hour before rising again, just watching their children sleep in peace. Neither quite understood what Jamie had planned to sacrifice for their family, but Claire would make sure to tell them when they were older.

Their party was headed onward to seek refuge with Jamie’s uncle at the abbey. After much deliberation, they deemed it the safest place to bide for the remainder of her pregnancy, or at least until they plotted their next steps.

Jamie was of a mind to sleep during the day and travel under the cover of darkness. Claire glanced toward Fergus in time to watch the boy shake off encroaching slumber. They’d stopped only out of necessity, most often for her to relieve the growing pressure on her bladder or belly.

Murtagh’s horse crept several paces ahead, the Scot scouting the safest path. Lost in her own thoughts, Claire watched his profile disappear into the valley below.

Eager for a bit of lie-in herself, Claire was relieved to see the glow of dawn on the horizon. Jamie would be sure to know of a shady place for them to lay their heads.

She guided Brimstone over the steep decline of the hill, only to nearly slam into Jamie’s abandoned horse.

He stood stricken in horror, staring ahead.

Murtagh was being pulled down from Donas by two Redcoats. As they set his feet on the ground, he met Claire’s eye, his own full of guilt and shame.

She slid down from her own horse and sidled up to Jamie’s back as he tried to make himself impossibly bigger to hide her, lowering Faith to her arms.

Over his shoulder, she studied the English officers in the dim light. There was something oddly familiar about one of them.

To be continued.

[captain-kingliamsqueen]

Unexpected Surprise - Part 1 (Liam x MC)

Pairing: Liam x MC

Summary: …As much as you want to plan your life, it has a way of surprising you with unexpected things that will make you happier than you originally planned!

Word Count: 2,003

Masterlist

 ASK IF YOU WANT TAGGED! SORRY IF I MISSED ANYONE!

I always notice every single spelling mistake or issue after I’ve posted…so apologies in advance! 

Tags aren’t working so I will be tagging in the comments.

Eight months had passed since Riley left Cordonia.

Eight months had passed since she last seen Liam

Eight months had passed since she last spoke to any of her friends from Cordonia.

The first few months after she returned, she went through a rough period, where she wouldn’t leave the apartment, she hardly spoke to anyone at all. She spent her time eating and sleeping, when she returned, she sold all of the dresses she had bought over the time she had spent there, adding her savings onto that, she managed to go the first couple of months without worry, after that money ran out, she had no choice but to find herself a job. Getting back out into the world was tough. She started a job at a local elementary school. What a lot of people didn’t know was that her job at the bar was meant to just get her by until she finished her teaching degree and got a job in a school. It was just a few weeks after her graduation that she had met Liam.

“Good morning Miss Brookes” one of her pupils beamed as she walked through the door Riley held open for the class to enter the classroom. For the last Six months Riley had been teaching a 1st grade class.

“Good morning Elizabeth, do you have your thinking hat on?”

“of course, Miss Brookes”

“good that’s what I like to hear!” Riley grinned as she closed the door then made her way to her desk. she chuckled as the children all yelled and played.

“Alright come on, everyone settle down…shh shhh…Alright thank you” she smiled as they all took their seats, bursting with energy. The past week, the class had been talking about languages, when one of them asked Riley if she spoke any other languages, their faces lit up when she told them she spoke French. When Riley took French at school, she would walk out of the building and not remember a thing that she had learned, but when she travelled to France with Liam and the rest of their friends, she fell in love with the country. She could remember every word Liam taught her. she remembered it like it was yesterday, when the two of them sat late into the evening in Riley's hotel balcony, they were both curled up on the bench. She had asked Liam to teach her some French and he was more than happy to oblige. Whenever he got the chance, he would teach her bits and pieces, by the time she left Cordonia, she was very well rehearsed in the language, she had studies books, everything she could get her hands on, she read front to back. The class had asked her, if she would teach them some of the language, which she happily agreed to. She had spent the last week putting together a lesson plan for the day, they would be tasting French food, learning the language, learning about the culture.

“Bonjour à toute la classe” she started

“does anyone know what that means?” she asked, then smiled at the first little boy that put his hand up.

“Oui, Jamie?”

“does it mean…good morning?”

“Bravo! Jamie, that’s right, its means good morning class”

“Miss Brookes…how do you say…good night?” Little Nathan called from his seat.

“I’ll tell you if you promise to put your hand up next time”

“I promise”

“okay…to say good night you say… Bonne Nuit! can you all repeat that? Bonne Nuit”

“Bonne Nuit!”

“Bravo!!”

As the day grew on, the children got more and more excited about the new skill they were learning. Once it reached their breaktime Riley had set out a spread of some of her favourite French foods.

Riley smiled from the head of the table as she watched each child pick at their plates, being very vocal about what they liked and didn’t like.

“Miss Brookes would you like some of my croissant?” one of the six-year olds asked

“that’s very kind of you, louis but I’m okay thank you.”

Riley sighed quietly as her hand rested on her stomach as she felt an ache. The same ache she had felt on and off for the past few months, she had assumed it was the usual cramps she would get when she was getting her period, which the last few months had been even more infrequent than usual. Riley had always had an odd cycle, so she didn’t think anything of it. as the day moved on, the cramping started to die down a little.

Over the next few weeks she had gotten bursts of aches in her lower back and her stomach. Nothing major, just uncomfortable aches.

It was late one evening she had not long got back from work, she had made herself some food, but ended up throwing most of it away after not being able to eat it. she had been in pain all day. at this point she was getting a little suspicious, maybe she was coming down with something? She decided that running back might be the best solution to her aches, maybe the warm water would help soothe her pain. After spending a good forty-five minutes in the warm back she climbed out headed for her bedroom. She pulled on some gym shorts and a vest before climbing into bed.

Riley was jolted awake when she felt a shooting pain in her abdomen. She sat up instantly her hand shooting to her stomach.

“oh my god…what the hell is that!!” she groaned “Shit that hurts!” she cried when the pain became too much. She had never had cramps like this…this was a whole new kind of pain. When she tried to get up from the bed, another pain shot through her, causing her to stumbled and fall. Tears cascaded down her cheeks as she frantically searched for her mobile that was sitting on the bedside table. As soon as she found it, her shaky hands dialled 911

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I need an ambulance, I’m in excruciating pain, I don’t know what it is, it’s a shooting pain in my abdomen”

“okay, what’s your address?”

“I’m in apartment, 2, Payton crescent.”

“okay, and what’s your name?”

“It’s Riley…Riley Brookes”

“Okay miss Brookes, I’m going to get you help as quick as I can, an ambulance is on the way, can you get to the door”

“yes” she gasped as another pain shot through her. unable to stand, she crawled to the front door, turning the key so the paramedics would be able to get in.

“the doors unlocked” she informed the operator

“okay, just hold tight Miss Brookes, help is on the way.”

Just a few minutes later, the paramedics came through the door. Once the operator knew Riley was in safe hands they hung up.

“Miss Brookes, can you show me where it hurts?” one of the paramedics asked. Riley lifted her shirt, placing her hand on her lower stomach. “all around here”

“you gotta help me, it hurts so much” she cried

“it’s alright, we’re gonna get you to the hospital”

Once they got Riley into the ambulance, they headed off to the nearing hospital. They asked her various questions on the journey trying to figure out what was wrong. After the answers she gave them, they decided she should have an ultrasound when she arrived at the hospital to check her appendix. Once they got her situated in a cubical, once of the nurses came by to do her ultrasound.

“Miss Brookes how are you feeling?” the Young Woman asked as she pulled the machine over and sat down in the seat in front of it.

“Terrible”

“alright, well we’re going to try and help you feel better again, alright, I’m gonna put this gel on your stomach, brace yourself because it will be really cold” the nurse squeezed some of the gel onto Riley's stomach before placing the doppler on top then moving it around to have a look and see what was causing the pain. Riley’s eyebrows knitted together as she watched the woman look at the screen with bulging eyes.

*buBum…buBum…buBum*

“is everything okay?” Riley asked.

“Miss Brookes-”

“call me Riley”

“Riley…when was the last time you had unprotected sex?”

“oh gee…now you’re asking…probably around eight and a half months ago”

“Riley…do you hear that sound?”

Riley nodded confirmed she could indeed hear the noise.

“I’ll be back in a moment” the nurse quickly made her way out of the room, running back in just a few seconds later with a doctor on her tail. The two looked over the screen, whispering to each other.

“is something wrong?” Riley gasped as she felt another pain.

“Miss Brooks, have you been feeling nauseous, Fatigued? Hungry often?”

“not really, I mean, ive had these pains on and off for the past few months, but I always got them around the time I was due my period, so I assumed they were cramps”

The doctor, asked Riley to sit with her legs open, so that she could do a physical examination.

“Miss Brookes” the doctor smiled

“yeah?”

“Your Pregnant”

“I can’t be…I haven’t slept with anyone in like eight months”

“Miss Brookes…you have a full-term baby and she’s ready to come out, you are already seven centimetres…you’re in active labour”

“no this has got to be a mistake, I don’t have a bump, I haven’t had any other symptoms, ive still had my periods”

“I’m afraid it’s true miss Brookes, bleeding during pregnancy can be perfectly normal, actually a lot of women mistake spotting as their period but actually it’s the pregnancy, it’s very rare, but ive seen it happen before, if the babies sitting further into your back, like you, a woman can go a full nine months without a real bump.”

“But…” The tears fell down her face.

“I can’t be…”

“how much weight have you put on over the past eight to nine months?”

“a little bit” she blushed not wanting to admit she had infact put on a little bit of weight.

“okay…well Miss Brookes, we’re going to have to move you down to the Delivery ward, this baby is ready to come out”

“Tonight?!” Riley panicked

“most likely”

Once they got Riley moved to the delivery ward, they started to connect her to all types of machines. She sighed as she looked at her phone sitting beside the hospital bed.

“Riley, can we call anyone for you? Maybe the father? a friend or family member?”

“no, it’s okay…I think I should call him…” she sighed “I’m nervous” she frowned as she looked at the nurse.

“was it a boyfriend?”

“kind of…we were very much in love but…we weren’t in a relationship as such.”

“what do you mean?”

“long story short, he was in an arranged marriage that he very much didn’t want to be in, we were going to get married but, something happened and he had to get engaged to this other woman…we tried for months to figure out a way to be together, but eventually it came time for the wedding, I told him, I can’t be with you if your married to her, he was willing to give up everything for me , his family business, his home, but I couldn’t let him do it…I know this phone call will turn his life upside down… I know he would drop everything to be here…if he found out and I hadn’t called him, it would break his heart”

“well, I think you should make the call”

“I can’t not” she sighed as she lifted her phone

“could I have a moment?” she asked the nurse, the young woman nodded then headed outside. Riley scrolled to his number then let out a deep breath as she pressed call.

The phone rang just three times before his voice came through the phone.

“hello? Riley? Riley is that you?”

“Hi, Liam” she whispered

[flockofdoves]

im still so conflicted abt body stuff but the amount of distress ive had consistently for so long i feel like i should just suck it up and do Something so heres some stuff i think im comfortable enough deciding i want (not factoring in how talking abt this w family is such an anxiety inducing prospect i think im just gonna do as much as i can without really talking about it and they have to deal with it...)

top surgery or radical breast reduction, i was super interested in inverted t anchor but im not insistent on it thats just from looking around bc i dont necessarily care if its Entirely flat and im vaguely weirded out by thinking my chest could feel like my other scar tissue so retaining some sensation would be nice. or radical reduction where i could go shirtless still but push it up for titties if i really wanted to bc sadly i cant shapeshift and i might have rare occasions i want the aesthetics of boobs and tbh while not super important i dont want a lot of fellow lesbians to not be attracted to me as much bc i have no boob, and also i dont prefer how small a lot of top surgery nipple grafts are... so looking like a lot of cis mens chests with gynecomastia could be nice. idk tho. i think i wont figure out for sure until i actually do a consultation which seems ages away at this point sadly. ive decided tho despite my best efforts to accept my DDs its just too much of a toll on me and binding isnt feasible most of the time with my chronic health stuff beyond how the sensory discomfort of it outweighs my satisfaction in my appearance

not the end of the world if i dont (or at least i think that when im not on my period lol) but my periods are so painful i dont want them so if they dont go away for other reasons id like a hysterectomy or something even though i know thats not likely to be accessible for a variety of reasons

i REALLY want to exercise more!! i wanna build muscle mass!!! im still kinda conscious about my weight and accepting that ive never really since puberty been anything less than chubby regardless of health has been helpful but also weird because i still wish i could be thin (and tall lol) a lot of the time but i think if i had more muscle that would make me happier and even feel right in my body type. of course i need to remember to gain strength in healthy ways and have my focus be more on strength than on the aesthetics of muscle, but i think itd bring a healthier relationship with accepting and taking care of my body than i do now on the whole and i really do miss being stronger i wanna be able to climb trees with ease again like in elementary school even tho obv im heavier now i want a proportional gain in strength!! and i just wanna be more active maybe itd help fibro fog stuff but i dont really know where to start yet its overwhelming

i want to gain more strength before i commit to this but tbh im not sure if i can start making such a routine out of exercise so i might just go with it whenever given the opportunity but i do want to start T, i think a lower dose tho bc while i dont care if it ends up being super effective, my goals in mind are more subtle. idk if id stay on permanently or not

i want an ‘amour, tu as l’avenir’ in victor hugos handwriting tattoed probably on my left collarbone

i still really want ‘☭ DIAMAT ☭’ knuckle tats in a constructivist font but thats soooo goofy and would probably cause me problems so maybe on the inside of my hands or with stars instead of hammer and sickles or where its interspersed between both hands so you only can read it when i mesh them lol

i want more ear piercings

[binglesbanglesbabies]

Pcos, an ovarian mass and laparoscopic surgery Part 2, operation to 4 weeks after

Part 2

I wasn’t asked to do anything special pre-surgery to make the surgery any easier, except no eating/drinking after midnight.  I still went ahead and ate lightly the day before, tried to keep it to mostly liquids so that my bowels would be smaller and more out of the way, but again, it wasn’t necessary, just what I felt would be better.

The surgery: Jan 28th

I had read so many accounts I was horrified that the laparoscopic removal would fail and I would need to be cut open hip to hip. Of course they had to have someone there to drive you home, so I brought my mother and step-father.  The pre-surgery was the same for anything else, height and weight asked/checked.  They did an ekg to check my heart was ok for surgery, ran through the 100 odd questions of allergies, a urine test to make sure I wasn’t pregnant, pertinent medical info, yada, yada, placed an iv.  Asked me if I had stomach upset/acid reflux (I do/did) so they gave me some iv pepto (their words not mine lol). Surgeon came in to “pep talk” us through the procedure. Then the interminable wait to be wheeled in to surgery.  On the way, I was stopped at a nursing station for the anesthesiologist to give me a shot (he told me what it was for, I’m sorry, it’s a blur now). In the surgical suite they literally wrapped my upper torso up like a burrito.  They told me it was to keep me warm, but I can almost guarantee it was to keep me from twitching and messing with the machinery while they were messing around in my abdomen.  Anesthetic and a few deep breaths later I was being wheeled back into my room post-surgery.

Here things get SUPER foggy.  I don’t remember much but feeling rushed out of the hospital.  It probably took a LOT longer than I feel like it did, but I was literally falling asleep on myself the whole time, so big chunks of time are missing during this period.  I barely remember getting dressed, except I had to have my mother help me, because I couldn’t bend over to put my pants and shoes on. This is one of the first times I have EVER been super happy they had a wheelchair for me, because I never would have made it out otherwise.  They warned me I may bleed, because whenever you mess with the reproductive system, it tends to kick up a fuss.  There may also be pain in your upper arms and back if any gas is not removed.  I had none.  My obgyn said if this happens, try to lay on an incline with your feet elevated, head down, to move the gas away from the diaphragm, which causes the pain.  But again, I got lucky, I had none.  And yes, they did shave my abdomen, sorry guys whoever did it, blame the pcos for the hair!

What they do during this surgery is make a few small incisions in your abdomen (for me it was three), one in the upper end of my belly button, one on each side of my abdomen, several inches above the hip.  They blow air into your abdomen to expand it so they have room to move around and then use a machine with small arms and rods with cameras and surgical tools to operate inside of you so they don’t have to cut you open too far.  It’s much less invasive and patients heal faster.  In my case they also took samples of the fluid filling the mass before removal and tissue samples of the mass, ovary, etc to check for cancer (came back negative).  They also took a look at the left ovary, it’s pretty bad, I have the pics to prove it.

For the rest of the day after surgery I was in very little pain.  My stomach was extremely shrunken in from the compression caused by the air.  I’ve never been that skinny and probably won’t again lol.  The incisions were covered in surgical glue.  I slept off and on most of the day, trying to get over the anesthetic.  The next day is when the pain kicked in.  Woah buddy.  I was heavily bruising, the swelling began, I was incapable of bending, pulling/pushing, taking a deep breath, laughing, coughing, sneezing.  You’d be surprised how much you use your abdominal muscles, whew!  I did not have any bleeding until I was using the bathroom, twisted to get the toilet paper (bad mistake!) heard/felt a tiny pop internally and then woosh, it started.  It was scary/bad enough I almost called the obgyn, but the paperwork assured me bleeding was normal, and I wasn’t bleeding enough according to the paperwork to call, so I gave it a day, and it did get lighter and lighter over the next few days and stopped.

In addition to the pain from the actual surgery site(s) my uterus decided to go into panic mode and cramp like hell for about a week.  I have NEVER been more glad for narcotics.  I took those for about 2 weeks before going back to the motrin I had been on for kidney stone pain.

What I was NOT prepared for was the sudden smack-down by my emotions.  I swear my hormones were in crazy flux. By week 2 I was crying over stupid things, moody, angry, it took about a week for all of that to clear up, ugh.  Still don’t know if that was because of the ovary removal, or because of pcos. I went through everything from crying they wouldn’t take my left ovary, to crying that it was necessary to have the right removed (which logically I know is ridiculous, because I don’t want kids (re: hereditary fun stuff I’d rather not pass on, also being ace plays into that, but that’s another story for another time).  Also, having to sit and sleep in awkward positions was horrible.  Made my back ache.  Sitting up is murder after having an ovary removed because it causes groin pain.  Laying flat all the time causes your back to ache.  I found a semi-reclined position that I sat in for over two weeks that worked for me, but my best advice is: use pillows, get creative.

Also, constipation is a thing. Your bowels will need some time to decompress, laxatives help.

Expect weird random twinges of pain. It's caused supposedly by your nerves healing. It's a thing. It's ridiculous.

Here’s some SUPER IMPORTANT information.  GIVE YOURSELF TIME TO HEAL.

I was so expecting to jump up and get gong a few days after surgery.  The first week I mostly slept.  It took me at least 2 weeks to start feeling better.  3 weeks to feel almost normal.  Over 4 weeks now and I still have pain in my groin if I sit too long.  Turning/twisting still pulls in my right side and groin and surgery sites.  Bending is STILL hard, bending to pick something up: PLEASE be careful.  Still not attempting to pick up heavy stuff.  Squatting is a little easier, but not ideal.  I still find engaging my core (abdominal muscles) to push/pull/pick up heavy items is still a challenge, and will cause squeals of pain from my surgery sites.  My abdomen swelled quite large, especially around the incisions.  Conversely, where they removed the mass sunk in.  My stomach is only now starting to “deflate”, so slowly.  For a week after surgery, I didn’t eat much, then I was ravenously hungry for about 2 weeks.  Externally the glue started to fall off almost a week after surgery.  The incisions weren’t even healed yet, caused me to get quite worried, but at the post op visit with the obgyn, she assured me this was normal, and they’d close over time.  The did leak, and were filled with white granulomas (white blood cells) which looks like pus, but isn’t.  The middle one’s glue popped and bled, filling my belly button with blood, but the glue still hasn’t entirely broken loose on that one, though by week 2 the other surgical glue had fallen off.  Check with your surgeon if you’re worried, but again, this all seems normal at this point.   At 4 weeks , the incisions are still not entirely closed up.  I have been covering them with bandages to help keep out bacteria and minimize rubbing from clothing.

PAJAMA BOTTOMS ARE YOUR FRIEND.  Also elastic waistbands.  It took me over 3 weeks to even try on a pair of jeans, and they still have the tendency to rub right across those incisions and the button to poke the incision in my belly button: not fun.  Today was the first day I didn’t feel discomfort wearing jeans while standing, sitting on the other hand...

I was also not prepared for the general weakness.  Without engaging your core, your limb strength just does’t cut it, lol.

AGAIN GIVE YOURSELF TIME TO HEAL.

Walking helps.  Seriously.  Don’t do like I did and try the whole 30 mins thing 2 weeks out of surgery.  Try 10 mins at a stretch after a couple weeks.  Then, walk 2 10 minute stretches during the course of the day.  Then 3 10 minute stretches or increase the time in the other split portions. If you feel pain, stop, don’t push yourself because you want to get better all at once.  I’m still not 100% back to normal activity, and I read it can take up to 12 weeks to be to that stage.

Tips/tricks to prepare:

If you have pets/children: if you can afford it, make sure you have a supply on hand for at least 3-4 weeks of food, litter, whatever.  Anything heavy you may need to lift is going to be impossible, especially if you don’t have help.

Try to see if you can get someone to help you if possible.  Trying to walk your dog or clean litter boxes, or care for small children is going to be very difficult for a while.

Be prepared to not be able to lift very heavy things, push/pull open heavy doors.  My discharge paperwork said not to even lift a full gallon of milk/water, and trust me, for the first week or two, it just ain’t happenin’

Listen to your body.  It will tell you when to stop.

Buy some laxatives for post-surgery constipation.

Buy some pads/panty liners for post-surgery bleeding.

Get your laundry done before surgery, you’re not going to want to do it for a while.  Wash small loads after surgery, laundry is heavy, don’t strain yourself.

Rest.

Buy some meals you don’t have to cook (think something you can slap in the microwave or oven for a few minutes and be done, or sandwich material, cereals, etc.) Standing up and cooking is going to be difficult for a while.

Be prepared to have family members (especially the males), act like you should be over it in no time. Especially with “3 tiny cuts”.  They don’t understand that there’s a lot of complicated healing going on below the surface that can’t be seen, not that that’s any excuse for being an unsupportive douche.

Just don’t push yourself to be better all at once, even if family/friends insist you should be “over it by now”.  There’s a mini tornado of healing happening inside you, let it do what it needs to.

[blogkelleyb]

Cancer treatment in the time of Covid

So I have finished my second Chemo treatment 3 days ago? Why not blog after the first? Well cause I was a potato thats why. That is my new term for the overwhelming exhaustion that comes with my friend Chemotherapy. It is interesting but nothing I have experienced before.  I lie, 10 years ago I was super ill and left Kingston Hospital 88 lbs. I know weak and it is a scary feeling and yeah I called them.  I found out it is completely normal, give in to it. Ok will do don't have a choice because I don’t have the energy to do more than make myself a cup of tea. My daughter is doing the rest and doing it well. I can relax and just be a potato if I feel like one.  So I was for about 3 days. 

Around the same time my mouth started to get sore. First kind of coated then raw feeling and really chapped lips.  My daughter went to pharmacy and got some special spray that is all natural and helped with the dry sore mouth quite well. She also got special mouthwash made for the same issue. It helped and it passed in about 4 days. 

But that wasn’t the first side-effect. I had very mild “hand-foot syndrome” Google it because it is fascinating, and can at its worst be horrendous.  It is extreme skin sensitivity to cold. First discovered when I got home from first Chemo and reached into the fridge for a pepsi.  Zap, every finger touching the can starts to tingle intensely. You know that feeling when a limb or hand goes to sleep and I mean dead asleep no feeling and then it starts to wake and you hit a max on the tingly feeling? Yeah it feels like that. Not painful, disturbing definitely uncomfortable. Then I took a drink of the pepsi...OMFG my mouth and throat are tingling like crazy. The answer? Warmth. A tea, no cold drinks and don’t touch anything with your hands that is colder than body temp. Warm that water up before you wash your hands. Etc.  It lasted a day and gradually improved. 

The third and least noticeable side-effect is actually not due to the Chemotherapy but the high dose steroids that they give you before and during to help combat them.  Steroids give you a false sense of wellness and I get very chatty to say the least. So yes I noticed this and the fact I felt pretty damn good the first 3 days after.  But I know having been on steroids many times for my Colitis the fall going off them is kind of harsh so this probably adds to the chemo exhaustion that hits on day 4 and your done your 3 day steroid regime. 

So lets look at the positives of this treatment shall we? I didn’t barf, not even once. Nor did I even get nauseated.  I was terrified of this side-effect. I mean worse than hair loss by far.  Like I said I know what it feels like to be 88 lbs when my good weight is 135.  I weighed 137 when diagnosed, my weight at my first chemo was 112. I have lost 25 lbs already and the treatment hadn’t even started yet.  What was I going to look like going into surgery, will it affect the outcome, will I be healthy enough to get it at all or will it have to be delayed risking my life?  Yeah it was a great big fat hairy deal. And I didn’t get sick. Can I have a “Hell yeah” 

The second side effect is just as exciting folks, I found my lost appetite and oh boy is it back with a vengeance. I fell like I did 10 years ago like I have an insatiable tape worm.  It started to come back around day 5 post 1st chemo. And each day became stronger and stronger.  I was eating bowls of ice cream at midnight and making bacon and eggs at 5AM.  I even appealed to my friends who brought “Mac and Cheese” and “Oven pot pies” And I ate them all and at my weigh in before starting chemo I saw the beautful number 118.6 lbs.  Omg the joy I felt I can’t tell you. The relief....1000 lbs literally off my shoulder. I am so holding on to the hope that it stays around. I expect during my potato days, it won’t be as good. But I will remain hopeful that the tapeworm stays awake and keeps eating. 

But then I got my second treatment 3 days ago.  It was different. The nausea? Nope its fine none of that at all. Appetite seems normal not bad but not ravenous.  The hand/mouth, wow. It began as I arrived home from my treatment. My hands and feet and lower legs were tingling like crazy and I was touching nothing and fully dressed and had a coat on.  The cold air, It was like minus 2 or something out.  Wow what if it was in the middle of winter how would this feel?  I come inside and its pretty intense. My daughter gets me a cup of hot tea and heats up my hot pack to put my hands in like I did first round. It helps. I put on my legs it helps them too. 

I have a chemo bottle attached to my PICC line that goes into the large vein in my upper body into the upper vessel of the heart. Regular arm veins used for IV’s  can't take chemo drugs, That chemo bottle is to drain over a period of 24 hours. I carry it around for those 24 hrs in a little bottle bag around my neck and navigate the tubing.  Then the next day I get into the car and drive to Para-Med and they remove the chemo bottle, dispose into the toxic waste container and redo my dressing on my PICC line. I go home. Except two hours later I note the bottle of Chemo is not draining.  I call, and they tell me I have to go back to hospital so they can fix. I did, it sucked, I tingled the whole way but did get to ask that nurse about it too. Yes it’s normal but yes we watch it some have a problem.  Am I going to have a problem? I hope not she says. Yeah me too.   

We drive home. I decide in case this gets worse I should take my shower while I am stable on my feet. I do so and it was  glorious hot water. No tingling, until I stepped out. OMFG again. Bare feet on the floor, naked and shivering. Ok now its painful. This bloody sucks.  Get dressed in flannel onesie right away. Get big winter socks on and get that hot pack. Ok I am good.  How bad will this get?  Is this something that could interfere with my ability to get regular prompt continued treatment so I can have surgery and be cancer free.  Is this threatened?  I have two more treatments and will have a long break in-between these treatments my surgery and my recovery and restarting again. It should get out of my system.  But the effects are cumulative, how bad will it get? Can they give more steroids to counter act this effect and keep it controllable. You can bet I will be asking all those questions to my Oncologist when I see him before my next treatment. My daughter is going with me and will make sure I miss nothing with my hearing and that I get all my questions answered.  Thats a very good thing to do together.  And good news, the tingling is improving this morning. Whew!

I don’t know what the exhaustion will be like this time.  I was what I called “baked” yesterday.  Like you took that extra THC gummy at bedtime (oh chill its legal and I only take them for sleep) except they are always worn off by morning with zero hangover effect. Baked with a really clear logical mind and a mouth that just will not stop talking. Like there was no filter, if something ran though my head it came out my mouth.  My daughter from previous experience with me realized it was the steroids!  And then we laughed and laughed and laughed until our bellies hurt.  The poor girl finally was able to retreat to the privacy of her room and I would still come down the hall to tell her more pearls of wisdom from my mind.  I carried on a running commentary with my best friend over messenger from the early morning hours before the sun came up all the way to bedtime and yes she too finally just stopped answering me. I think its hysterical. But I get that it may be a tad annoying to others. So I went into my favourite facebook group for women over 40 that play the video game “Animal Crossing” Oh don’t judge that either, hottest selling game of the year last year, absolute record sales and got many of us through this damned pandemic. Just minding our islands and building homes and fishing etc.  So peaceful, so non political and so damn cute.   So yeah headed to that group and made two new online friends and yep they probably won't message again but they were kind to me. This side effect will pass today as the steroids wear off and the exhaustion kicks in.  I suspect it may be little worse and last a little longer than last time. If you don’t see a new blog post till next treatment, thats why. See ya when I am no longer a potato. 

[planetsam]

omg i just found your blog and i love it!! please please write a mike x eleven story kali goes to hawkins and reunites with el and that’s how mike, hopper, and the rest of the boys find out el has a sister

Kali doesn’t believe in miracles anymore.

Not if she’s one of them.

She believes in 011 though, so she goes after her. Back to Hawkins. She sends the others off to do it too, not sure how this will go. If she was odd before she’s a freak on another level now, with her painted appearance and her shadowed eyes. She shouldn’t be surprised to find 011 has done the same things she has. Built a family, carved a life, drawn what she needs into her sphere. It looks different, it still has the shine Papa liked so much.

“What are you doing here?” 011 asks quietly when she sees her.

“I came to see what all the fuss is about,” she says with a flip of her hair, “didn’t realize I was interrupting third period and homecoming,” she sneers and 011 at least has the grace to turn pink in the ears before her face hardens.

“I’m sorry I’m not robbing a bank,” she shoots back and Kali glares.

“Well not as the daughter of the police chief. Though you’d have an easier time of it. No surprise there.”

It’s a cruel thing to say but she’s cruelest at her most vulnerable. 011 grabs her wrist and yanks her over to the phone booth. She pulls out a quarter, jams in a number and talks quickly. Quietly. Then she turns to Kali.

“Stay here,” she orders.

“Going to be late for fourth period?” Kali demands, making her voice high and girlish.

She rolls her eyes as 011 storms away, rolls them again as she runs when the bell starts to ring. It was a mistake, she thinks. Coming here was a mistake. Next time she’s going to someone else. She bets 01 has a way cooler life than this town. Running away from here makes more sense than whatever the hell is happening here. She rolls these thoughts in her head, enjoying them as she waits as instructed. Trying not to wonder at why she’s waiting at all. The car that pulls up comes dangerously close and she almost has to slam on the hood to get it to stop. The driver has the grace to look surprised but then his eyes narrow, like this is just a regular day for him.

“Are you Kali?” he questions, opening the door.

“Depends on who you are,” she says giving her best devil may care smile. He lets out a long suffering sigh like this is just what happens now. “you are?” she prods.

“I’m Steve,” he says, “Jane called me.”

She appraises him, all slim lines and chiseled jaw. He looks like one of those boys that Dottie likes seeing on her magazines. Or Axel sometimes stares at a little longer than he should. His clothes are good quality but have seen better days. Unless he’s just been gardening, in which case, he’s not like the boys on those magazines at all. She wonders if 011 has been stupid enough to tell him the specifics, or if she’s just told him to stand still like Kali’s some wounded, skittish animal.

“Are you my babysitter?” she asks and he smirks.

“Yeah, so get in the car,” he says without missing a beat.

She looks back at the high school and shrugs.

Can’t possibly be worse than where she’s been.

He actually is a god damn babysitter.

It floors her when the day lets out and there’s a dozen rugrats 011’s age scurrying around. For all the things they can do, she forgets how young 011 actually is. And yet no age can make this better as they talk about things they shouldn’t know about like they’re discussing the weather. Steve has snacks ready to go and somehow gets the circus that’s happening under control while she stares at it with a mix of frustration and exasperation. 011 seems to be steadfastly ignoring it, looking down at her textbooks like a coward.

“Does this happen every day?” she demands rounding on Steve.

“Uh, most days,” he says.

“And what are you doing here?” she questions.

“Identity crisis,” he says without skipping a beat.

She lets out a noise of frustration.

“Screaming room’s there,” the one called Dustin says pointing his pencil, “we killed a Demidog in there so it’s got bad vibes. Get it all out.”

She’s going to kill them all.

Steve makes up the sofa because, again, he’s a babysitter. And a maid. And a chef apparently, which seems like a lot for someone going through a crisis. He studies a lot too and she finds that even stranger. She remarks that one day, flopping on the couch and watching some dumb gameshow she’s never seen.

“You’re very busy for someone in the middle of a crisis,” she says.

“I multitask,” he replies.

She swings herself off the couch, dressed only in a long t-shirt and saunters over to him. He glances up once and then looks back down, focusing intently on a book until she grabs it out of his hand, spinning it back towards her. She glances at it and then looks at him, raising an eyebrow as he suddenly finds the counter interesting.

“This is a chemistry text book,” she says.

“Yeah.”

“You graduated didn’t you?” she asks and he nods, “so why are you—“

“I’m taking a year off,” he gets out, clearly embarrassed and she rolls her eyes, shoving the book back at him.

“I didn’t even go to high school,” she says airily and retreats back to the couch.

011 has told her boys everything. Kali’s been smart enough to keep her band at an arms length, not telling them everything. 011 hasn’t extended that courtesy. They aren’t even surprised to see her, though she supposes that one can go to straight old logic as the labs were kind enough to number them chronologically. Her 008 has caused her a lot of frustration over the years but now it feels obvious. Like a marker everyone is aware of in ways she doesn’t want them to be. Irrationally she wants to hunt Terry Ives down and demand to know if the crazy bitch has more plans to ruin everything. Or maybe her sister does and can meddle some more.

“I cried when they tattooed me,” she tells Steve one day when it’s raining out, “they said it wouldn’t hurt but it did,” she fingers the numbers, “at the time.”

“You get any since?” he asks and she turns over her shoulder to flash him a wicked smile that makes him shift his weight.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she says. His eyes linger just a fraction too long on her collar bone and she rolls over, gets to her knees, “do you have any tattoos?” she challenges and he laughs.

“Not the type,” he says.

“What type is that?” she asks, “the dangerous type? The rebellious type?” she closes the distance between them, “the delinquent type?”

“I was gonna say the kidnapped and imprisoned type,” he says and she purses her lips.

“No, I suppose you’re not the type at all.”

She really can’t place him which becomes a source of frustration to her. They’re known for drawing in people who are useful to them—which he isn’t—or who please them—which he doesn’t—or who are trustworthy. He offers nothing, pleases no-one and he might be trustworthy but she doesn’t trust people. 011 trusts too many it seems. She corners the bowl haircut one with the sad eyes. Not to be confused with the bowl haircut one with the goo goo eyes and questions him. He coughs up the answer with minimal prodding and she saunters over to Steve.

“So,” she says, “you got your heart broken. Trying to win back fair maiden’s hand?”

“No,” he scoffs. She leans forward and he pulls back.

“Your ears are red,” she says, curling a piece of hair out of the way as if to show him. He jerks at the touch and she grins, “you know being a stay at home dad is kind of a libido killer. You should be out there showing how desirable you are.”

“Thanks, but, I’m not taking romance advice from—from—“

“Someone who can make someone do anything they want?” she asks, “I could win Nancy faster than you,” she says, wicked ideas occurring to her, “I could win her back for you,” she says, “make her want to see you instantly.“

“That’s not love,” he says and she laughs.

“They can’t tell the difference.”

“Yeah, but you can.”

It’s an obvious statement. Her laugh is edged in brittle all of a sudden, sharp edges clawing out. Brittle doesn’t have a place here. Not in this storybook kitchen, not in the lives of people who haven’t been ruined. She knows she’s the oddity here, but just how odd seems to hit her with the unexpected look in his eyes. She knows that look, the scientists used to give it to her all the time.

“It’s all the same to me,” she dismisses, pushing away from the table, “when you want me to get your girlfriend back, you let me know.”

She lays awake that night seething. It’s been a long time since she turned a conversation over in her head like this. She’s not sure why. Steve Harrington is a loser, in the kindest sense of the word. A bright star who fell fast and he’s now reduced to this shit town with his shit job and babysitting these shit kids. She hates this town. She never should have come back here. She starts to formulate a plan to leave.

She must talk in her sleep because there’s a lot of waffles for breakfast.

She stares at them and then at the one responsible.

“Don’t win my ex-girlfriend back,” he says, “not loving someone back isn’t a crime. And she has someone she loves so, just, leave it.”

She stares at him.

“Are you really that good of a person?” she questions.

He shrugs.

“Nah, i’m not.”

“Thats what a good person would say.”

She takes the peace offering, realizing what it is. When she’s done she sets her silverware down and stands up, coming in front of him. He follows her with his eyes as she gathers the hem of her shirt in her hands and pulls it over her head, turning her back to him. He stares at the tattoo and she gathers her hair up for the full effect. He swallows tightly and she drops her shirt back on.

“They marked me with their name, so i marked my own.”

She enjoys the look in his eyes maybe a little too much as he watches her sit back down and dig into another waffle. Steve stares at his plate silently and she feels a shiver of delight at a power that she rarely gets the chance to use. When color comes back into his cheeks, he clear his throat before getting up and walking away, shifting his too tight jeans as he goes.

Running away taught her a long time ago that men come in all shades of monster. There’s all kinds of violations your body can go through, all kinds of walls you need to keep them out. Steve could easily be one of them, he has the constantly frustrated look of someone who spent a long time thinking the world was one way, only to find out it isn’t. There is nothing malicious about him though, but Kali has been wrong about that assumption before. Trusted too easily, paid a price in a long line on her right breast that will never go away.

She resolves to try it, just a little push to see how he reacts. Little is often easier with proximity and darkness so that night she goes to his room. She closes her eyes and reaches for his mind. It’s pliable and soft, he’s no great genius nor does he have a wealth of defenses up against her. The goodness is there, somewhere deep in all of this but deeper still is the determination. The grit. It catches her off guard, slips her control and she’s wrenched back to where she is, standing above him. His eyes open and he jerks awake, looking at her with wide eyes. She chokes on something that she’s not calling emotion, waiting for the anger. But he just reaches over to the side of the bed and pulls out a tissue.

“Your nose is bleeding,” he says. When she makes no move to take it he presses himself to his feet. He towers over her but maybe for the first time in her adult life, this is simply a fact. “Here, lemme.” He touches the tissue under her nose and takes her hand, guiding it there. She goes to tilt her head back and he shakes his, “lean forward,” he says. She looks at him doubtfully, “just trust me?” She doesn’t move, “what do you have to lose?”

At the moment? Nothing.

She doesn’t want that to change.

She tips her head forward anyway. The bleeding stops quickly. He hands her another tissue and she takes it, careful not to touch any of him. He sits back on the bed as she tosses them into the bin. He looks up at her and she feels unsettled by how calm he is.

“You okay?” He asks and she starts at the question, “you wanna sleep here?”

She waits until his breathing is deep and even before she risks looking over at him. He’s curled on his side, his back is to her and she wonders what else Dottie said is a lie. Or if Steve is just different. She doesn’t like either option. She closes her eyes and lets out a long breath, trying to steady her pounding heart.

She has to get out of here.

“And go where?” 011 demands.

“Nowhere you need to worry that pretty little head about,” she says.

“Why did you come?”

The question stings and makes her feel embarrassed all at once. None of which she’s willing to show. She looks over her shoulder. Steve is pretending to read, but his eyes are fixed on one word. It stings across her mind like a brand and she hates him for it. Especially the intent behind it.

“I was looking for my sister,” she says, “if you ever find her, tell her I was here?”

She walks out as Jane’s face collapses. As the book slams shut. As Steve catches the door she throws open and follows her out. Venom floods her mouth as she turns, ready to burn the last thing she has here. The stupid, fragile thing that will ignite with nothing from either of them. That’s how the world works.

“Hey!” He says, “you can’t talk to her like that! She’s just a kid!”

“I was a kid once too, that didn’t stop anyone from talking to me like that!”

“That’s your excuse?” He demands and she feels her hackles raise, “someone did it to me so I’m going to do it to someone else?”

“I’m sure that’s not easy for you to understand with people giving you everything and you just passing it along. I’m surprised your parents aren’t worried with you playing house like this, surprised they’re so willing to share their precious boy.”

She knows she crossed some kind of line, knows it a moment too late at the look on his face. Amidst her crashing stomach she consoles herself with the fact that she made him angry, which was always her plan. The anger is there, but it’s mixed with something far worse and she rails against the pity. She doesn’t want anyone’s pity. She wants his fear, she wants his respect, she wants–she shoves away the alarming number of things she wants and glares up at him.

“You don’t know the first thing about me,” he says and she laughs cruelly.

“I don’t need to,” she says, “you’re just like everyone else.”

“Spoken exactly like someone who shaved half their head,” he snaps, “you think standing in the corner makes you unique? Or better? Everyone has their own story. Their own past they’re trying to deal with.”

“I’m sure you had such a hard life,” she sneers, “delaying growing up playing house with all these kids. Going for Dad of the year like yours was?”

“And you’re doing the exact same thing the lab did.”

She slaps him.

Not with her mind, with her hand. Slaps him and feels the sting of it in her had.

“Take that back,” she hisses. He says nothing, “take it back!” She yells and reaches for his mind.

He screams through gritted teeth as she digs in. Everyone’s yelling and she hears them coming as he drops to his knees. The bastard still throws a hand out to stop them. She ignores it and digs through his thoughts, his emotions. Past the goodness to the determination, to the core. She sees parents who aren’t there, parents who don’t care. A mother who laments her son losing a great girl without knowing he was lied to, a father who shakes his head and never sees. She sees bruises under his skin, pain that isn’t the kind you can stop but leaves a much deeper scar. She sees a boy sitting forgotten on the steps of a school, his pain indistinguishable from a girl who goes to sleep with no one to tuck her in.

“Let him go!”

The boy who tackles her ignores him and though she catches him, she’s not quite fast enough to catch 011 who severs their connection. Steve’s bleeding too, his eyes going in and out of focus but he still staggers up, catches Dustin in his arms.

“It’s okay, man, I’m okay,” he says, “let it go.”

“Leave!” 011 roars at her, the moment they’re in the house, “I want you gone. Steve did nothing but be nice to you and you hurt him. We might be sisters but you–you are not welcome here anymore,” she looks at her, “apologize first, fix it, then you leave.”

Kali stares at her quietly, unable to find her anger.

He really is a good person, she thinks dully, too shell shocked to push the thought away. She trails down the corridor to the bathroom. Steve’s hunched over the toilet, Dustin, Lucas and Max all arguing above him over a bottle of aspirin. Steve’s trying to wave them off. She feels the memory of no-one doing this for him. They all look at her and she feels rightfully embarrassed, but it’s been a long time since she has and she refuses to give into it around them. Steve’s head moves up and she rolls her eyes, realizing she’ll have to get over it.

“Can I fix him? Please?”

“Hey screw you, you’re not going in his head again,” Dustin snaps.

“Fine, he can stay like that,” she says as he hurls again.

“Let her in,” Steve groans and she moves in, sticking her tongue out when he isn’t looking. She kneels down by the toilet, ignoring the smell, “can you–” he begins miserably before being sick again.

She’s not good at this, it’s on her tongue to say so, but he looks like he wants to die and the three kids behind him look like they want to go with him. She has to try. This is her fault. Taking a deep breath, she reaches forward and flushes the toilet. Her hand comes out and pushes through his hair, finding the spots on his skull. She closes her eyes and nudges again. Steve chokes and she bands her other hand around his chest, stabilizing his jaw. She feels and pulls, soothing the sharp edges of their connection she forced. She tries to cling to his determination, his goodness, all the things that seem so miraculous to her and are so natural to him. After a long moment, she releases him and they collapse onto the tiled, staring at each other.

When she goes to push herself up, his hand covers hers and he shakes his head.

She looks back at 011 who raises her chin and then turns, walking away. She pulls her hand back, knowing that he may have seen things that she didn’t want him to. She’s embarrassed, suddenly. Even though she doesn’t think she should be. She is. She licks her lips and tastes blood. He pushes himself up and grabs toilet paper. Instead of giving it to her he looks at her and she nods, letting him touch the paper to her upper lip. He tosses it into the bin and lays down. After a moment she scoots over, pulls his head into her lap.

“I don’t want to be like them,” she says, “I don’t want to be like this,” she shakes her head, “I don’t want to be stuck.”

“Me neither,” he says finally.

Kali closes her eyes and lets herself feel ashamed.

Steve grasps the hand she has settled on her shoulder.

For the first time in a long time, she feels fear.

She wakes up with a stiff back and a Steve snoring in her lap. She’s as stuck as he is in a completely different way. She doesn’t know why she cares or even if she should. She probably shouldn’t. No, she definitely shouldn’t. The thrill it sends to her is dangerous on every level. Dangerous in a stupid way. She really does have to get out of this shit town. She folds a towel and replaces Steve’s head on it. She throws another one over him in case he gets cold and goes off to find his protector.

“We need to talk.”

A few hours later Steve comes out as they’re finished packing. He rubs at his eyes which are less bloodshot. His head still might be sore but he’s just going to have to deal. Dustin elbows her and she steps forward, handing him the two aspirin and the water. He takes them both silently, looking at her with confusion.

“So, I am sorry again for psychically attacking you,” she says, “they don’t make an apology card for that.”

“This works,” he says hoarsely and takes the pills.

“And,” she continues, “I’m leaving,” he pauses and sets down the glass. Her mouth goes dry at the stab of disappointment and hurt in his eyes. Emboldened she puts her chin in her hand, “but I can’t get there in time by myself, so, you’re going to have to come with me.”

He drops the glass.

“What?” He croaks, looking at the fragments on the floor, “I can’t just–”

“Drive off with a mysterious stranger?” She asks, “that’s odd because they say you can.”

Dustin grins and holds up his duffle bag. Steve stares at him and he nods encouragingly. He looks at her and she meets his gaze. They are both stuck, that’s been admitted even if it was under duress. She’s stuck in a way that she’s not sure she can ever undo. Even wants to undo. He’s stuck in a different way. One that seems so easy to fix for her. Maybe some part of him hopes that the way she’s stuck might be easy for him to fix too. She can see him thinking everything over and realizes she doesn’t want the embarrassment if he says no. She’d rather lick her wounds alone. She picks up her bag and slings it over her shoulder, stepping out on the road and shading her eyes. She flits with the idea of stealing his car and dismisses it. Though it would be a good lesson. By the time she turns around, though, it’s too late.

He’s there.

Something in her chest gives. He looks nervous as hell and she can’t blame him after the past day, but that stubborn look is in his eyes. This is why he’s not like his parents, because he refuses to be. It’s not the kind of thing that can be taught, not in time. But she can marvel at it anyway. He opens the trunk and puts his bag in, looking at her for a second before nodding. She drops her bag besides his and smiles daringly up at him, squinting in the bright light. Whatever catty thing she’s about to say is lost as he settles a pair of sunglasses on her nose.

“Better?” He rasps.

She stands on her toes and presses her lips to the corner of his mouth. Electricity shoots through her in a way it hasn’t before and her seems to jump with it too. For a moment she considers their connection might still be there, but she’s out of his head. The only thing that’s done this is the part of her that is very much like everyone else. She gets her smile up just in time, pressing her finger to his jaw.

“We’ll see.”

[rileywrites-parker]

This is Nice

This is part one of my six part series titled ‘It’s A Lot Like Falling.’

Part I  Part II  Part III  Part IV  Part V  Part VI

Prompt: “It wouldn’t be the first time you broke a promise.” Or, in this case: the longest hug in history.

Summary: Peter has been absent a lot lately. Ned and Reader are concerned. Basically: unreliable Peter/brand new Spider-man and confused/hurt Reader. Peter likes to leave notes when he messes up, because apologies are hard. This is the first part of a five part series titled: ‘It’s A Lot Like Falling,’ which has its own link in my bio.1.4k words.

Also, Ned is the biggest Peter x Reader shipper. He thinks it’s cute. He also thinks Peter is oblivious.

“Hey,” you asked, your fingers twisting to put in the last number of your combination, lock popping open, the door following suit, “you’re still coming over later, right?” Peter swapped out his Spanish book for his Chemistry text, closing his own locker and then spinning the combination to lock it back up. He walked over to you, leaning a shoulder into the locker next to your own, adjusting the sleeves of his sweater, pushing them up to his elbows before crossing his arms in front of him.

“We have to finish up that history project, you know,” you spoke around your door, peering around the side to see Peter looking down at his shoes, one sneakered toe pushing at a rogue pencil someone had dropped on the ground. You could already sense it coming, that heavy feeling of disappointment working its way up from your toes to mix with the contents in your stomach.  You finished swapping out your own textbooks, lightly closing the door, sighing as you tucked your binder close to your chest.

“Actually,” his hand was rubbing at the back of his neck, disturbing those curls you so loved, “I have-uh, I have a thing.”

A girl brushed past you in the hallway, bumping into your shoulder, almost causing you to drop your things. You tossed her a look, silently scolding her for her lack of manners. You adjusted to settle your weight on your shoulder, leaning into the door of your locker, looking up to see that Peter was now fumbling around with the edges of the notebook he held.

“You have a thing?”

“Yeah, you know, a- uh thing that I have to do a-after school,” the tone in his voice made it sound as though he were asking a question, “for May.” His eyes met yours, doing his best to offer you an apologetic smile for missing out on yet another important after school study session.

A few months previous, Peter had fallen ill. He missed almost an entire week of school and had refused to let anyone visit him at home. His behavior had taken an odd turn after that. Suddenly it was like there wasn’t enough of Peter’s time to go around; he was never really present, and even when he was his thoughts were a million miles away on some unseen planet that only he was privy to. When asked, he always had some excuse primed and ready to shrug your concern off with the brush of a few stammered words and nervous gestures.

He had you and Ned worried. You missed him.

“Peter, this project counts for a huge chunk of our grade,” your brows furrowed at him, your brain already beginning to work out how much you were going to have to do when you got home to finish the assignment on your own, “and you promised you weren’t going to bail on me this time.”

Ned walked up to the two of you then, a bright smile on display. He placed a hand on yours and Peter’s shoulders, giving each a light squeeze. It took him a moment to gauge the mood, the smile leaving his face as his eyes bounced between the two of you. Finally sensing the tension, he dropped his hands and took a slight step back. “So,” he looked at you then, a sympathetic expression on his face, “I guess you’re ditching again?” He looked at Peter, who was now frowning, arms crossed in front of him.

Peter’s eyes were on you now, his brown orbs scanning your features, “Look, I’ll make it up to you, OK?” His fingers found yours, his warm calloused hand smothering the top of your cold one. You focused on where your hands met, following the contours of his fingers and the way the lines of him changed as they molded with your own.

“Sure, Peter,” you conceded, voice soft and defeated. Your hand was suddenly cold again as he pulled away, tucking his arm back around his notebook. He began to back away from the two of you and in the direction of his next class. The hallways were clearing, most people having already transitioned to their next period. You felt a light touch on your back, as Ned gave you his silent support.

“O-OK,” he said, before offering a weak smile to his friend, his eyes on Ned’s hand. He turned away to head upstairs.

“It’s not the first time you’ve broken a promise,” you whispered to his retreating form, Ned’s hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. He grabbed your arm then to lead the both of you to your English classroom.

You had no way of knowing that Peter had heard you. You had no way of knowing that your words had left his stomach in a knot and an ache in his chest.

When you got home from Art Club later that night, you were surprised to find a folder lying on the center of your bed. Picking it up and opening it, you found that Peter had finished the shared project. He had even completed a few of the questions you still hadn’t answered yourself, his neat, blocky handwriting marking each sheet of paper.

Despite the gesture of good faith, you were still upset with him.

The next morning when you arrived at school, Peter was waiting for you. You nodded your head at him and gave him a small smile. Turning your attention to your locker, you found that there was a note taped to the combination lock. You gave Peter a look, asking for an explanation, receiving instead a shrug of his shoulders and a sheepish expression. You peeled the note away from your locker and unfolded the little piece of paper.

‘I promise you that I’ll get better at this, that I won’t keep letting you down. No more broken promises, [Y/N.]’

You met Peter’s eyes then. His hands were shoved into his pockets, knuckles hanging out over the edges of the denim as he stood there anxiously awaiting your response. You said nothing, and instead reached out to him, weaving your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you, your bodies meeting in an awkward embrace. A few moments passed before he relented, relaxing into you, removing his hands from his pockets to wrap them securely around your back.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed into your hair. “I’m not trying to hurt you, or-or let you down,” he pulled you in tighter, his fingers clenching, the fabric of your shirt bunching, “I just have some things going on right now that are really difficult to explain.”

You nodded your head, chin digging into the top of his shoulder, skin chafing against the strap of his backpack. “I – we just worry about you, Pete.”

“I know,” his warm breath tickling as his face pressed against the side of yours, “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever it is you have going on, you can talk to me about it.” He let out a sigh of contentment as you brought one of your hands up and into the hair at his neck, carding your fingers through the first sets of curls there.

“I really can’t,” he said.

Nodding your head again, continuing to play with his hair, “OK, that’s OK,” your hand making its way a little further into the bulk of his tresses, fingers brushing behind his ears, “I just mean that when you’re ready, whenever, I’m here to listen; whatever it is.”

“OK,” he replied in a small voice, his fingers now twirling through the fine hairs at your neck that had managed to escape your braid.

Ned came around the corner then, stopping a few feet in front of the two of you, grinning as he met your eyes and giving you a not-so-subtle thumbs up. You responded with a beaming smile before motioning for him to come over, grabbing at the strap of his backpack when he was within reaching distance to pull him in. He wrapped his arms around the two of you then, Peter letting out a laugh as Ned squeezed, rocking the three of you back and forth.

“We should make this a thing, this is nice,” Ned declared; the two of you nodding your heads in agreement before the three of you separated. You smiled at Ned, reaching up to fix his hug-disturbed collar, offering him a good morning. You turned to look at Peter then, his eyes meeting with yours, a light blush painted across his cheeks.

You smiled, a blush of your own forming as he said, “This is nice.”

  Part II  Part III Part IV Part V  Part VI 

[pidgezero-one]

dont message me about this please. I just need somewhere to dump it

I had a falling out with my best friend at the end of july and he completely cut off contact with me. i trusted him more than anybody in the world and there are no words to describe how much his friendship meant to me. the way this happened destroyed my sense of self-worth and I isolated myself from people and tried to fill that empty void with drinking and shitty eating habits (namely starving myself followed by binge eating). fell into a pretty bad depression and was constantly lethargic and unproductive. hated going out in public because I hated myself and didnt want to be seen.

suffered a death in the family at the end of august. this isnt something I cope with in a healthy way. especially during that period of time

started talking with my friend again in september but that didnt go very well either. still felt shitty about this every day, just having this constant nervousness and wanting to throw up and feeling like im carrying a huge weight on my shoulders, every day 24 hours a day. i had dreams about our situation all the time and it fucked me up. cant remember the last time I got a good nights sleep. developed a lot of trust issues from revelations that came out in the few discussions we had. we havent spoken in almost 2 months now. still really miss him but also still hurting over the things he said and did

2 weeks later, boyfriend of 2 years broke up with me when I got back from dreamhack. it wasnt really a surprise and there's no bad blood but was still a really hard adjustment. we had lived together since before we started dating.

we were splitting rent on a 1 bed apartment so now I have to pay for it myself. i dont really have the means to move. this fucked me over financially bc I was in the process of paying about 8000 dollars worth of debt accrued from when I was unemployed in 2014. so that's why none of you have really seen me since then, im saving money instead of going out to do things. this is also around when I decided to cut the drinking to prevent it from getting out of hand and decided to fix my eating habits, both of which are saving me money

met someone new in november who I got close to pretty quickly. he knew I was hurting from something, a lot of things, and helped me recover and was somehow over time able to convince me i didnt deserve any of what was going on. i started to believe it too. we spent a lot of time together and became very good friends.

around the same time i saw another friend have a falling out with his best friend and the way it got him down made me really angry. he didnt deserve to feel that poorly. this helped me realize that neither did i.

start of december, i fell mutually in love with the new friend. although it was just the beginning of the relationship, it was unprecedented in how genuinely loved I felt. we were supportive of each other in ways I didnt even know I could be. never enjoyed someone's company so much before or felt so totally safe telling them literally anything, and after I was having so much trouble and anxiety over opening up to anybody like that again, this was really really special that he could make me feel that way. especially considering the vulnerable state I was in, I tried to be cautious about getting this attached so quickly, but I decided to trust him. you kinda had to be there to understand just why I let myself feel this way despite it looking like a textbook mistake and me being well aware of that fact. he was thoughtful and respectful and considerate and was the most loving person i've ever known. we live a long distance apart and decided we'd take things slowly until we had the chance to spend some time together in person and discuss what our future looks like at that time. we spent a lot of time together calling each other around the holidays and never let a day (or an hour, really) go by without making the other feel loved and appreciated and worthwhile. for a christmas gift he contacted a lot of my friends and compiled a series of video and audio clips from all of them sending me kind words at the holidays to remind me that i'm loved. he really was a wonderful person.

being able to really believe that I didnt deserve to feel as badly as I had been since the summer, combined with falling in love again... I was finally something resembling happy again, I got my confidence back, I was energetic and productive and in an improved state of mind... not completely, things still hurt and I think they always will. but I was at least functioning. the wounds were still there and they were still fresh but I was at least starting to heal.

had to replace my pc because too much of my hardware was just not working anymore. that was a big financial setback I wasnt prepared for. my laptop mobo also broke so now I dont have one of those anymore. oh well. once im done paying off the last part of my debt im going to save up for a new one

start of january, one of my closest friends goes radio silent and unresponsive to texts and calls for over a week. i was a fucking mess worrying about him. (we hung out a few days ago but at the time holy shit)

my coworker at my job (the only other dev on my team) is leaving, so I have to learn a ton of new stuff and also train who we hire next, and im pretty stressed out about that on top of the status of my current major project

i didnt go to agdq this year, but that entire week was rough. wanted to stay off social media and stuff to not be reminded of it but this is where all my connections are and I need to work on shit. I spent a lot of last agdq making good memories with the friend i had the falling out with and thinking back to that just makes me really sad now.

was finally starting to enjoy streaming again and I injured my hand recently and cant use it to use a dpad or joystick, so now im not doing that either. it got infected pretty badly and ive been worried about that for a while, but it's healing up now. hopefully ill return soon. also having numerous other alarming things happen healthwise that are too TMI for here but... yeah

last week the guy i loved dumped me. not going to go into detail on this but i feel very very slighted by how he chose to do it. it had only been a month but im pretty messed up and blindsided by it. despite the short length I can't remember the last time I had any kind of interpersonal relationship that was so emotionally fulfilling. i still don't really understand. being around him hurt so much that I left my favourite discord server where a lot of my close friends are cause he's in there too. i miss being in there so much but i just cant do it

on saturday I got the news that one of my friends from the smash 64 community passed away unexpectedly. i went to the visitation on sunday. it still doesn't feel real.

i dont want to talk about it, I dont want any offers to talk about it, I dont want to relive it, I dont want to think about it, and especially especially I d o n t w a n t t o t a l k a b o u t i t. just getting it out there bc I feel kinda overwhelmed atm from everything. i just wanna focus on doing the things I need to get done to keep my mind occupied. i want my best friend back, i want the person I love back, i want my friend to come back to life. there's nothing else that can be done for me