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the-bar-sinister · 5 months ago

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Run Away With Me (4279 words) by thesavagesabretooth Summary: Phoenix gets the final push he needs to come ask Maya to come back with him. Maya gets the final push she needs to finally follow her heart, instead of her grim duty.

October 2, 2028– 11:15 am

Phoenix had been going to visit Maya in Kurain every week since she'd returned to the states in June. Sometimes– often– she wouldn't have much more time than to say hello, and maybe have a cup of coffee, but he still made the hours-long bus ride there just the same, without fail. It didn't matter how much time she had for him. It just mattered that she was there.

He straightened his tie as he arrived at the small bus stop overshadowed by the great stone standing outside the main family’s manor. It hadn’t changed in years– honestly, it was likely it hadn’t even changed in decades from the old wood and the archaic design.

Phoenix would have believed that the bus stop was exactly the same in Maya's mother's and grandmother's time as it was that very day. In fact, he was sure that was the case for most of the village.

He glanced around to see if Maya was there to meet him that day, or if he'd have to go and find her.

The bushes by the bus stop rustled…once…twice…and out leapt a figure clad in purple and white to tackle him in a hug. “NIIIIIiiiiiick!”

Nick yelped in surprise, but caught her in his arms and carried the energy of her tackle into a whirl with the both of them, grinning. "Maya! You took another few years off my life!"

Maya squeezed him tightly, grinning from ear to ear under her dark fringe of hair.

“Shit, I’ll have to be careful. You’re getting on in years. You need ‘em, old man.”

"Ouch, right in the pide," he chuckled with her, letting her down to the ground as he continued to hug her. "You're in good spirits today. I'm glad to see it."

“Don’t tell anyone, I’ll lose their respect as Village Elder.” Maya chuckled as she settled back on her feet. She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m just …ya know…”“I missed you, and believe it or not…I actually have a little free time today.”

Phoenix felt himself light up when she said so, and it showed on his face. "You do? That's fantastic."

Maya grinned and poked his cheek.

“Yep. I’ve got some of the old farts in the sub family handling a couple meetings I don’t gotta attend, so…” She looked over her shoulders “Until someone comes to rain on my parade, we’re golden. You want some tea?”

"I'd love some," he said, slipping one arm around her shoulder. "Unless you have enough time to run back to LA with me for a burger."

He didn't really dare to hope that she could, but he was always going to suggest it.

Maya’s smile faltered for the first time since she’d seen him.

“Ugh… I wish…I haven’t had meat in like, weeks, WEEKS Nick. I’m dyin’ for a good burger but…I mean.” She rubbed her arm “...the people need me , and I could get called back into action any second. You know? I got time, but I dunno if I have ‘hours on the bus both ways’ time.”

He squeezed her close to him and shook his head. "I get it. Don't worry. I brought snacks, anyway. I know how you are. Let's have that tea and I can enjoy watching you tear into them."

Maya laughed into her hand as she backed away and offered her hand with a grin .“You know what I like, Nick.”

It was crazy how much she’d started to look like Mia over the years. She’d grown, considerably, to the point it was almost hard to tell when she channeled her older sister anymore on the rare occasions she tried.

It was very clear in the warm mountain sunlight, at least, with the way the robes fell on her body.

There was an unnerving element to it, sometimes, but mostly, Phoenix just found it amazing how much time had passed between them, and how much it had marked them both.

It wasn't as if he was the same man he'd been when they met, either. He'd grown quite far apart from that man in fact, over the years, and thought for a while that he'd never see him in the mirror again. That was changing now, though, and he was still working on ways to change it even more.

"Some big news this week," he said, catching her up with the goings on at the Wright Agency as he always did, as they made their way to her place.

“Ooooh, big news huh? Did Charlie sprout legs and start pullin’ his weight?” She led him under the arch to the family garden and towards the side door.

"I wish!" he laughed, stepping through the garden with her. "No, it's weirder than that. Trucy went to Khura'in with Klavier."”

“Wuh wuh WHAT???” Maya jolted physically, and all the veneer of ‘Master Fey’ mystique vanished in an instant at her goofy and dramatic gasp. “Trucy went to Khura’in??? With Klavier Frickin’ Gavin??? To Khura’in?????”

He nodded, holding her arm to make sure she didn't trip. "Yeah. They're going to bring Apollo back to the states, apparently. I hope they're going to try to convince him, but they were at least joking about tying him up and smuggling him in a suitcase."

She whistled, sliding the door open with a shake of her head “some kinda bonkers rescue mission then? I guess she really missed the guy….hope they’re gonna be alright. Khura’in is goin’ through some hard times last I heard.”

"Yeah, Apollo's been swamped," Phoenix nodded as they headed into the house. "I hear him and Sadmadhi are the only ones doing the job. And that's not even the political stuff. There's a lot of responsibility on their shoulders."

“Ghhh…” Maya grimaced as she shuffled off her shoes and stepped into her house slippers. “I’m not surprised. Ga’ran amok with a country’s legal system’ Sigatar Khura'in didn’t exactly leave things in a great state. I hope they can book it soon…it wasn’t bad there, but..”

She shook her head, and Nick saw a momentary sadness cross her face “it gets lonely when all you’ve got time for is your responsibility and work that never ends.”

It was personal, he knew that. Even Pearl and Iris had all but moved as far as they could away– which meant Maya was up here with only the occasional visits and the title of ‘Master’.

It has been weighing on Nick's mind. It has been weighing on his mind for months. But never more than in these last few days.

He thought about the item he'd brought in his bag, along with the snacks.

"It sure does get lonely," he murmured. "But hey, if they bring him back, maybe you can actually meet Apollo."

She tugged him in after he switched his shoes, into the long hall surrounding the central courtyard of her Japanese styled manor home.

“You know, I’d like to? He seemed like a pretty cool guy the few times I caught like– half a sight of him.”

"Yeah you guys didn't have much chance to get to know one another in Kuhra'in, sadly," he said, following her into the manor. 'I feel like you guys would get along."

“He always looked so serious!” She laughed as she rounded the corner past the former display area of the Urn of Ami Fey…where Phoenix had once seen Pearl playing with her ball. “You don't think I'd annoy the guy?”

"No way. You'd be surprised by how annoying he is too." Phoenix snickered– though he glanced nostalgically at the spot. Pearl was 18 now, going on 19, and enrolled in the police academy, hoping to become a detective.

Maya glanced out at the courtyard before she tugged him into one of the rooms…a large living room style space with a stove sunken into the center of the room, surrounded by old scrolls and dividers bearing the legacy of the Kurain tradition.

And of course the series of familiar mats around the stove that Maya instantly patted for him to sit atop as she got the pot.

Pearl had grown so much, and pursued a dream nobody had really expected. But this room didn’t look any different than the last time he’d arrived. Hell, it still looked the same as it did that second time she’d been accused of murder.

“No shit? Then we’ll get along like a house on fire.”

Phoenix took a seat and started pulling snacks out of his bag and arranging them on the table for Maya. There were chips, cheese snacks, jerky, and boxes of instant noodles, and more.

"Like a house on fire sounds about right. So I'm hoping they'll get him back just so I can get a front row seat."

Maya laughed.

“Gonna drag him all the way out to Kurain eh? I’d ask if he liked the mountains and uh…” She looked around the room as she filled the teapot from a small spigot in a kitchenette off to the side. “A rustic atmosphere. But if he’s living in Khura’in, he’s gotta love it.”

"I'm sure he'll be thrilled," Phoenix chuckled. He shuffled through the contents of his bag, and hesitated as he grabbed the folder inside, debating with himself.

Maya turned with a broad grin “OH SHIT!” she pointed to the table “you brought me noodles!!!”

Phoenix left the folder where it was and grinned. "I wasn't gonna come without your goodies, Maya."

Maya trotted over and dropped the teapot on the burner with a slight splash of thankfully cool water from its spout.

“You’re my hero, Nick! My literal, actual hero!” She picked up the jerky with a broad grin. “MEAT!”

"Wish I could have brought you some actual burgers, but I figured it was better than nothing." He chuckled, leaning on his hand and watching her.

She flopped down, holding up the jerky like something holy.

“I’ll eat this in memory of you, Nick.” with a giggle, she opened it up and took a big bite with her eyes closed “...It’s been nuffin’ but rice and pickles and veggies for weecksh and weecksh…”

Her mouth was full, her manners as atrocious as ever, but at least she looked happy.

It made him nostalgic, and he felt a swell of affection. "I know it's part of the whole medium thing but it always feels a little rough to me to force you to go without."

“It’s traditional.” She said after she swallowed “and if there’s one thing we love in Kurain it’s tradition!”

She looked down at the jerky in her hands with a chuckle. “There’s always tradition.”

"There sure is," he sighed. He reached back in his bag– then took his hand out and shook his head. He looked back over at Maya. "But there's other stuff, right?"

“There’s channeling!” She said with a lopsided grin “and the mountain air. And…you know…the priestesses and the old folks. It’s nice to see ‘em smiling and happy.”

She reached slowly for a bag of chips. “And I mean..I grew up here, you know?”

He pushed the chips toward her. "Yeah. Like Apollo grew up in Khura'in too. That's why I'm not sure they'll be able to bring him back."

Maya opened the bag of chips, listening to the water as it heated.

“It's hard to leave your home, you know? Especially when it needs ya…you can’t just leave it to suffer without you…and it ain’t the same when you’re gone. Sometimes you just gotta accept that it’s where you belong, you know?

"I guess in the end there's only one person who can make a call like that, huh? Trucy and Klavier might come home covered in bite marks."

“Yikes!” Maya snickered. “If they do, are ya gonna laugh in their faces with an ‘i told ya so’ or give ‘em bandages?”

"I might," he said. "But I might be sad for them too. Any way I can help you with the tea?"

Maya rustled in the bag of chips with a shake of her head “It’s just heating up, don’t worry about that…it’ll just be another minute or two.”

She took a bite of the chip, joy sparking in her eyes for a moment before it quieted again. “I’ll be sad for ‘em too. I bet they miss the guy, huh?”

"Trucy especially. She was his co-counsel, you know? For a while. Like you and me used to do."

Maya had a chip in her mouth when she looked up at him with a half smile.

“those were the days, huh?” She chomped the chip with a look of satisfaction before she continued “...being someone’s co-counsel feels special, can’t blame her for being kind of heartbroken to lose him like that. Suddenly your life’s a lot quieter.”

"Actually," Phoenix said, feeling himself start to sweat. He couldn't believe he was doing this. He shouldn't do it. But… He reached into his bag and pulled out the folder. "Speaking of those days– could I ask you to look over a legal document, for me?"

“Forget how to read legal docs during your break, Phoenix?” Maya teased him playfully as she held out her hand for it. “you’re hopeless. I’ll take a peek for ya, sure.”

"You know I did," he chuckled. "Even a couple years back in the game, I still don't have all the skills back I had when you were around."

His fingers twitched, but he managed to hand her the document. There was a slim stack of papers inside.

They weren't particularly obtuse documents.

He'd typed them himself.

Maya opened it up to read them, starting from the top as she tucked her hair over her ear.

They were business papers. A contract for a permanent position as the manager of Wright Agency, and a full half stake of the company.

He watched as her brow furrowed. She flipped a page– they widened– .and then she jumped as the teapot began to steam and she hurried to take it off the burner with wide eyes

“...N-Nick…this….”

There was a name typed in at the bottom, waiting to be signed.

Maya Fey.

"It's an offer," Phoenix said quietly. "And a plea, too. I know Kurain needs you, Maya, but– I need you too."

Maya pushed her hand through her hair, her breath catching as she looked between the paper and him.

“I…Nick, I miss you too. Of course I miss ya…I need you too but…” She looked down at the paper again, her eyes lingering on the name. “but who’s gonna take care of the village while I’m managing the office? Nobody. There’s nobody else! Mom already abandoned them and died, Mia left….Morgan was a monster, Pearl esca— is following her dream. I’m the only one here who can bear the responsibility!”

She tensed “I trained for it, for years. If I just left I’d …what would happen?”

"Maya, I'll be honest, I don't know what would happen," Phoenix said quietly. He looked down at the table. "I don't know what would happen to Kurain, or the people here without their important medium blood leader. But I know what would happen for me. I'd be happy. I'd get to have you in my life. I'd get to wake up and see you smiling, and get to take you out for burgers, and ramen. And have you by my side in court."

His fingers tensed on the edge of the table as he remembered that fateful case almost ten years ago now, when Maya hadn't been by his side. Everything had gone wrong. And he'd lost 7 years of his life to a kind of despair. "It's not the same without you, Maya. I'm not the same. I– it's not fair to put it on you, I know. But I'm a selfish man. I always have been."

Maya’s eyes started to tear up, and she reached up to push her hands through her bangs again. She stared down at the contract.

“It’s not the same for me either, you know” “I mean…I…I’ve changed too.” She looked up at him with a shaky smile. “But you know me, you know I’d love to wake up next to you and fight it out in the courtroom, or have ramen whenever I want, or goof around and watch the Pink Princess and all that! But the people here need a leader…and if it’s me or Pearl, I’ll take the bullet before she has to. She’s got a dream now…”

"Why? Maya?" Phoenix said, leaning across the table.He let it out. He let out what he'd been holding in– what had been building in his chest for years now. "Why do they need a leader, and why does it need to be you? Who even cares about any of this? Do you? Mia left! Pearl left! It's the 21st century– these people don't need you as a leader, they're using you, they're using your talent to bolster their way of life– and you don't even want to live that way!"

“You’re soundin’ a lot like her…” Maya grimaced as she reached for the teapot “louder and louder lately.”

Her fingers curled against the handle as she lifted it and fumbled blindly for the teacups.

Nick staggered to his feet and moved to help her, grabbing the teacups for her.

"Sounding like who? Cause they sound like they have a good head on their shoulders."

October 2, 2028– 11:35 am

Maya heard Phoenix get up, stepping beside her to take care of the cups while she took the teapot. He had a plaintive look on his face, which seemed, just for a moment, to not have aged a day since they'd first met.

She dropped her head into her hands, rubbing at her temples with her fingertips as she felt her jaw tighten “like nobody…don’t worry about it, Nick. I’m just talking to myself.”

Like Mia. She’d always heard her voice since the murder’s aftermath, on and off— and more in more the longer time went on– she wasn’t foolish enough to tell herself it wasn’t real, she was the Master of the Kurain Channeling Technique after all, even if it wasn’t the usual sort of channeling it was clear to her that the voice and presence in her head, draped throughout her like an extension of herself was none other than her departed sister.

“Does it matter? Whether they’re using me or not, this town needs me to survive.”

"Economically, Maya," he said, taking the teapot from her as well, and pouring tea for them. "They need you to survive economically. No one's going to die if you leave. They need you the same way a farmer needs a prize cow to show at the fair, I know that seems harsh, but it's true."

It is harsh, Mia said. But he's not wrong, either.“Ghhh…” Maya closed her eyes tightly. “c-calling me a cow, huh Nick? That’s a great way to convince me to come back to LA, sure!”

She laughed it off like a joke, even as she felt her eyes sting. She knew they were profiting off her, but that’s the way it’d always been. The village was the mediums and the mediums were the village. There wasn’t one without the other.

He set down the teapot and put his hand on her back. "Maya, you know that's not what I'm doing. But what are you getting out of being here, really? They're sucking you dry. Why should you be forced to serve them forever as their pet medium, just so they can get rich off your talent? Just so they can continue their reputation? Tell me off if you really want this, Maya– but if you don't want to be here, you don't have to. You really don't."

Maya bit her lip hard, feeling the pain as her tooth nearly cut the skin. She tried to summon the will to tell him off, but she couldn’t lie to herself…

She didn’t want to be here. Why would she wanna waste away in the mountains doing the job her mother abandoned? The job everyone else escaped from, forever and ever until the last of her talent dried up and she died for whatever offspring she managed to have to take up the burden in her place.

It was miserable. SHE was miserable being so far from every little pleasant thing she got to experience for a short and blissful time away from the village.

Phoenix put his arms around her shoulders.

"Maya. I'm not going to stand here and advocate for Kurain village. To me, they're a bunch of backward people who hurt you, and Pearl, and Mia, and who Pearl and Mia couldn't wait to escape from. They're a bunch of bitchy women who backstab one another and are ashamed of their husbands. I couldn't advocate for them if I tried." She felt his arms trembling around her, and his face on the back of her head.

“I want you, Maya. I love you. I've kept my mouth shut for almost 10 years, because I don't have any right to tell you what to do. I don't own you, you're your own person. But I hate to see you dividing yourself among greedy people when I want you for myself. It hurts, Maya. It hurts because I love you, and I miss you."

Maya felt the hot patter of tears hit her hands as the teapot swam in her vision.

“I…” she hiccuped quietly. “I love you too, Nick. I know we never said it before but…but..I do.” Her fingers tightened on her lap as she looked up at him with a rough attempt at a smile. It hurt, but..the whole thing hurt. “You aren’t wrong…this place is a mess.”

Mia…I don’t know what to do. I know , I know what you’re gonna say but…

You know what I'm going to say, already, Maya. You know you do. I think that you should follow your heart. And I don't think your heart is in Kurain village any more than mine was.

Phoenix combed his fingers through Maya's hair. "I should have said it a long time before now. I didn't want to put a name on it. But I should have. I love you, Maya. Run away with me."

Maya choked, her shoulders shook and she felt the sudden wet trickle of tears hitting the backs of her hands and running onto her kimono below, leaving dark and damp spots near her folded knees. .

“I…I…” she whimpered. “I wish you said it sooner, Nick….wouldn’t have needed to run far at all. Hah. Hah.”

She gripped her kimono tighter in her fingers.

“Looks like everyone’s always runnin’...running from Kurain. Mia…wants…would want…me to go too.”

"Mia, huh?" he said quietly in her ear. "That's what I thought. Yeah. I bet. I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner. I didn't think– after what happened, I didn't think I had any right. And then you were in Khura'in, and I— I realized how completely lost I am without you."

He squeezed her tighter, holding himself against her body.

Maya leaned against him with a choked laugh.

“You really are helpless without me, Nick. I turn my back, you lose your badge…or start smashing your way through a country’s legal system.” The laugh didn’t stop as she half fell against him “Nick…do you got any idea how small Kurain is? It’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. It’s just this circle of houses and the channeling chamber…everything outside is …situational.”

"I have some idea, Maya. It's suffocating you, isn't it?"

She nodded , looking up at him with tear stained eyes. “I used to think I could live my whole life there. But Mia, when she vanished, she kept inviting me out and showing me things in the real world. I loved it…but it meant that comin’ back felt like being put in a cage.”

As Maya turned around in his arms to look at him, she saw his own eyes filled with tears as he looked down at her.

"I don't want you to live in a cage, Maya. Pearl doesn't want that. Iris doesn't. Mia didn't want it. Not for you, and not for her. Please, Maya— will you be my partner again? We've been through so many crazy things that turned out to be real. Can we make this real?"

Maya hiccuped again, and she nodded.

“y-...Holy Mother, are the spirits of Aunt Morgan and the rest gonna be unhappy…but y-yes.” She closed her eyes tightly to stop the way her vision swam through her tears. “I wanna be your partner again, Nick. I w-wanna run away.”

He leaned his chin on her head, and she felt his throat against her as he swallowed. "Maya, I don't care who else is unhappy, because I'm the happiest I've ever been. We're going to be happy, together."

Maya leaned up to kiss his chin. It wasn’t going to be easy…not emotionally. Not when the elders of the village came to ask questions…but…

I’m making the right choice, right Mia? I’ve gotta follow my heart.

It's the choice I made, Maya. I didn't even have someone begging me to go with them, and I never regretted it for a second. Even though it made my life a lot shorter.

#narumayo #nickmaya #ace attorney #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #archive of our own #ao3

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stewy · 1 year ago

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what draws you to ten and martha so much? what about their dynamic has got you in such a chokehold?

hot sexy toxic couple with the most chemistry in the entire show. this is just a fact

Martha is the Doctor's doctor! She starts the show as a medical student in training on the Doctor's show. She then takes a "sabbatical" year with this alien who calls himself the Doctor, who actually gives her the best training any medical student could wish for. She actually is the Doctor for the entirety of their time in 1913 because Ten is simply not there. And then he is out of it again, and she saves the world (is the lead hero!) on her own. And the whole time, she looks after him. She teaches him how to be a doctor again after the events of Doomsday, and that's a low he never quite reaches again until after losing everything in Journey's End. I think Martha is the only character who leaves on her own terms (I have not finished season 9 yet, leave me be), and was actually there with the main objective to look after this guy, while also traveling the universe of course (but even then, looking after his loneliness was in her mind even by Gridlock, which is insane to think about). I find so much meaning in how she made him better and kinder, while he turned him into a de facto Doctor... and a soldier, something he is shown to be ashamed of for lifetimes to follow :]

Series 2 was particularly unbearable for me to watch because of Ten & Rose's CW show romance, but I've grown to see it as the point (delusional)? Nine regenerated into someone he thought Rose would be more attracted to (even though she was already crazy about him, lol), therefore -> Casanova David Tennant! Which. Fair. But also there was sooo much, ugh, immaturity surrounding whatever they had going on, it's like, I'm too old for this. And then it ends in such a tragic way, which immediately shatters Ten's view on humanity because, well, Rose was his humanity. So! In comes Martha, someone only a few years older than Rose but who had to grow up much faster than she ever did because there was no illusion of Great White Romance there: he told her from the go that it was her only trip, even though he spent the entire episode auditioning her, lmao. And their relationship develops so organically from there: he is intensely reluctant and closed off; but she is insistent and he talks about Gallifrey for the very first time (!) since the War. While she at first sees him as this wonderful alien god who can take her away from it all for a while, and then grows to become intensely protective (!) of him and the Sisyphean task of aiding to his loneliness. Martha sees firsthand, multiple times, how fallible and arrogant and selfish he is, but she stays! Because she believes she can make it better. And she does! But not in the way she thought she could. :( Anyway, I guess my point was that it develops so naturally? There is no teenage hesitance; they're honest with each other and you can actually witness what they want and get from each other. Which I believe every TV romance should be about. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Relating to the previous point, I don't think it's bad that she loved him "more" than he loved her the whole time they were together. I think there's an honesty in two people meeting at different times (lmao) in their lives; and Martha met him at a tragic moment for his character. And, yes, she makes it better, but I think people who can only see her other doctors treating her better (which is true) are sort of missing T/M's emotional journey, which is the most gratifying part of series 3 for me. Plus, we, viewers, will never love someone in a CW show way because that type of romance is simply not real! At least not in the adult world (but again, children's show yaddayadda).

i think they should have fucked nasty.

#audibly groaned when i saw this because like. how do i explain something i feel strongly about #ask #tenmartha #you can disagree with all this. just know you're wrong

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ahundredtimesover · 7 months ago

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You did your big one with the last update. I was on an emotional roller coaster. It took me almost 2 hours to read all 23K words because I had to stop several times to process my emotions with our couple. OMG so many feels and my babies I was just drowning right now, like their lack of emotional maturity, it’s so pitiful to see play out I feel like they are definitely sabotaging their own happiness and as much as I want to be mad, considering both of their backgrounds, it makes sense. it also is why they are so perfect for each other so it’s hard no scratch that is painful to see them be a part when we know they are so much better together. Sorry my mind is all over the place. I hope for JK’s sake Namjoon has a wife. When the two families history was being revealed I really thought Daddy Jeon maybe had an affair with her mom so I was totally shocked that isw as an emotional affair with Mr Ri , like shocked stupid . Ugh I love how Hobi is all for family and willing to there fore JK at anytime . I hate how she feels that burden to server the family/company . But I do feel that JK is now being punished for something outside his control . I am drawing a parallel of how her crazy father lead to him being left in the rain as a kid and now her moms history with the company is leading to him being left by the women he loves now . It makes me question the string of fate that connects them , is this string a string of destiny or a noose that will burden their relationship to be ill fated . I am on the edge of my seat waiting for them to follow up now that everything is out in the open.

In a perfect world OC works for RKive and has a longstanding partnership with the Arts Center , I marry Yoongi and we all live happily ever after . Also I am curios where the hell is JK’s older brother at , do we know as readers . Will the family’s all reconnect at some point . Which supporting character delivers the speech to push OC to analyze her feelings for JK and his words . Is the ex boyfriend gone for good . Anymore plot twists , I am going to be up all night now .

Thank you for posting I love the series so far . I hope you ace your test/paper !!

Sorry if this is a big thing jumble i used text to speech for a large portion because I had to speak these thoughts into the universe

🚧spoilers 🚧

HI OMG U USED TEXT SPEECH? Haha why does that amuse me! I'm just imagining someone just expressing all this and says "In a perfect world... I marry Yoongi and we all live happily ever after" with a straight face hahaha but... same. 😂😂

Anyway. If 23k took you that long... Well, there's 24k and 28k. I can't shut up. 🫣🫣 But yes to emotions! We'll have more of those!

Of course, it's so easy to say that they're so stupid and perhaps they are. But similar to what you said, they have a lot of baggage that they carry and it's not easy to just give in to one's feelings when there's so much weighing them down.

And lol at the thought that there could've been an affair haha someone said that, too! But no, it's actually much more painful. And true, JK's experiencing all this and it's out of his control - he loses whether he asks OC to stay or lets her go. It's similar to her feeling selfish whether she resigns or not. We lose something with every decision we make but like Mr Ri said, we have to make them; it's the only way we can stand by them.

It makes me question the string of fate that connects them , is this string a string of destiny or a noose that will burden their relationship to be ill fated - getting all poetic on me now? BUT HMM interesting question. We'll just have to wait and see! As for your other questions... I can't say much but it'll be fun!! 🤭🤭

Pls don't apologize. I love these messages. I'm sorry I got to it late. I managed to submit my paper and my brain's just been tired for the past few days and I have 2 more to submit... HAHA but yes, I appreciate you. Hope you enjoy the rest of it!! 💕💕

#mimianswers #fic: iwyts

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number-one-hog-hater · 1 year ago

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we're on tumblr to have fun babes never worry abt it

So true, my fixation for sunny was fading in MARCH!!! But I really held onto it because I was (and still am. Kinda...) having so much fun interacting with the people in the community. It's such a silly little thing this community and even tho I have next to no interest in sunny I'm still gonna stay and interact even if its less often cause it's Fun.

I think it's Crazy that I am moots with people that when I joined in Feb I saw as these pillars in the community or as major players. Like people who make edits or youtube videos or fics. Because I started watching sunny in September, right, so I had been consuming fan content for Months until I decided to join tumblr. And now?? Some Follow ME, some even Like MY POSTS?? that'd absurd! I've had Conversations with some?! ME?! It means a lot to me, which is silly I know, but I still get excited when I see certain people interact with me cause that's not supposed to happen. I'm just a lil guy that goes in the reblogs and just says stuff with an occasional post here and there that's original. And they are Artists and writers and video editors and ugh!!!! The amount of times I learn someone I really admire follows me I just didn't know because their sunny blog is a side blog is too many and Every Time, I lose my my mind. Cause I'm just lil Ole gron who like to make shitty photo edits and ramble in reblogs.

Sunnyblr is so Fun and there are so many people that are Amazing and I don't even know if they know it. I wouldn't want to join tumblr for any other fandom and I am so happy it was sunnyblr.

Sorry I went on a Whole thing when I'm 99% sure this was just about how i said I wasn't the person to ask about song association because I don't really listen to lyrics. But I have had a great day and this is something I think about semi often.

As always (even if I forget to say it) thanks for the asks anon I Love doing these. Even if it's just someone telling me they want to put a water bottle on my head and watch it fall off.

#asks #anonymous #its me gron #also side note is all the asks the same anon #im kinda curious cause its either that or for some reason people just suddenly Really care about what i have to say

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the-rippers · 2 years ago

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List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the Last 10 people Who reblogged something from you. Learn to know your mutuals and followers. 🎠 But only if you want to, just have fun! 💖💖

oh my god thank you for ask anon, been a long time 🖤 theyre not in specific order, cause i hate putting things like that in order

1. music; as corny as it sounds it is my life and if i went without music i would probably go batshit crazy. and the music i listen to made most of my personality, so i feel if i was without it, i wouldn't be myself

2. the boy i'm in love with; we're not together, i hope yet, but he is my safe place. whenever he texts me or sends me a meme to start a conversation or sends me how he plays his guitar or when we go to concerts or when we go to abandoned buildings and draw graffiti or when we smoke together or when he buys me drinks even tho i didnt mention im thirsty nor i wanted one or when he asks me to wear a shirt he bought or when he looks down on me with knowing smile. ugh

3. my friends; the thing is - im an asshole, with a big heart, but still an asshole. so liking me and being my friend is tricky, i will not keep things to myself and say what i dont like or uncover shit somebody lied about etc etc. so i lose a lot of people bc of that, but i keep people that are honest and like hearing the truth and respect shit if i tell them not to do something towards me. so yeah, if someone is like that then i will run miles if something happens and be there with them

4. my dog; she's my ray of sunshine, whenever im sad she comes to me and hugs to me, whenever im happy she jumps with me, whenever i dance to music on speakers and turn my room into moshpit, she deathwalls with me (just a joke she is fine), and come on german shepherds are cool as fuck we look rad on walks

5. my mom; even tho our contact fucks up a lot lately, i know it will pass, it will be just us anyway so thinking back how it used to be makes me happy, i believe it will come back

#thanks anon again #opening my wounds here a bit #but yk something therapeutic about it #asks

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deathsfollow · 7 months ago

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ooc: meet the mun

NAME?: GRIM

PRONOUNS?: she/they

MOST ACTIVE MUSE(S)?: kirk and cristi are always the main or loudest ones, but sera and wade scream with craziness very closely behind and lego batman is just always there whispering stupidity lol.

RP PET PEEVES?: i don't get ticked off too easily to be honest, but theres people pushing or demanding for replies or acting like they're better than others for being quick to reply or never losing muse or people who steal content from other rpers them gets me. another not that RP related i suppose but more original work related is people who don't want to pay for things like original art that took hours to make. like i've tried to do graphics stuff for people for money before and it would come to a "oh but this is for just a personal thing why's it cost money".. BECAUSE I SPENT MULTIPLE HOURS MAKING IT FOR YOU !!

EXPERIENCE / HOW MANY YEARS?: i dont really remember when i started, i always wrote in both finnish and english as soon as i could, to be honest, but on tumblr i think i joined like 2012 maybe, originally in star trek and star wars community with my darth vader. i first met chris then too!! ugh i cant even fathom it's been this long.

FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT?: i like a mixture best, angst leading to fluff leading to smut is my favourite. i'm a sucker for some deep and novella like smut but i'm picky on who i'm comfortable with doing it with, romance and angst is easier and more comfortable. sad romance honestly might be my favourite way to write

PLOTS OR MEMES?: i don't like memes sent without like ANY plan behind it, or you know it making sense for the muses. i always like plotting or replying/answering to an open starter for muses to start interacting or having some general memes but i personally find it hard to answer memes for characters that havent interacted.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES?: i don't like one-liners, or unimaginative replies that give the respondee little to work with, but honestly it's case-dependent. like if i do seven paragraphs and get one in return, that'd suck, but if it's both parties doing short paragraphs or long novellas, it's all good. as long as it matches the love and effort the other person's putting in is how i feel.

TIME TO WRITE?: i gotta write whenever i can, otherwise i get nothing out at all, but i feel like i always end up writing most at night or late in the evening. i also always need other distractions to keep my attention to something, like right now true blood's playing on the tv right next to me and i watch it and do this taking turns.. i have problems with attention span lol.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S)?: i think everyone puts a little of them into everything they write, but most of my intentions ever to write came from my own pain and wanting to be someone else, so that's what i did. and then just kept creating more and more lives and stories and it made me want to keep writing and creating. and it's let me explore lots of different sides and aspects of myself through multiple outlets.

tagged by: @untilthcyrot

tagging: no obligation for anyone and i don't follow many people yet so if you see this and feel like doing it, do it!

#OOC ——— ( OOC MEMES )

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90sbee · 11 months ago

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god i don't usually enjoy this trope but jdkfjsdf OH GOD !!!

You almost ask him to keep driving when your apartment building comes into view. There’s an air of understanding and comfort in the car, and you’re worried you’ll never see it again once you leave. You hope he doesn’t notice your disappointment when he pulls over.

ngl crazy abt this part like just. i can see it so clearly.

“I’ve never seen you smile before,” you say. “You should do it more, it’s nice,” Leon looks beautiful in pink, cheeks reddened and round. When he releases you, you consider falling again just so he’ll return. Instead, you gesture for him to follow you into the building, which he does. Although the stairs are a tough bet, you manage to stumble up them. You swear you hear Leon huff a laugh behind you when you stagger.

I AM VERY NORMAL SO VERY NORMAL ABT A CUTE BLUSHING LEON !!!

“I’ll be right here,” Leon returns. “I’ll keep watch,”

pls i would kill for this man to keep me safe HELLOOOO

He holds you, gently and carefully, cradling you as you fall apart. And you know, in that moment, that he won’t hold it against you later.

excuse me. how dare u write something so soft and gentle UGH IM GOING CRAZY

“Getting tired of me already?” he teases. Spending actual time with Leon has made you realize that he’s funny and playful. He’s not always stoic and unforgiving. He teases, he jokes, he smiles. You didn’t think the latter was possible. You just assumed that he was always unhappy.

NOW THIS WHOLE EXCHANGE I AM SO DUMB SO STUPID FOR HIMKFJDSFD WHAT A FUCKING DORK HE IS AAAA

“I just thought…you might be more comfortable here,” You smile at that. You can hear the insecurity in his voice, something you find sweet. “I’d like to stay here,” “Okay,” he says. You can almost hear the smile. It makes your heart flutter.

NO WORDS. MY BRAIN IS MUSH

He grins at you, and you feel like the entire city lights up a little more.

MY POOR HEART !!!!!!

Almost as if he senses you moving, he follows you, caging you into his arms. You feel like your heart stops when he pulls you in, sighing into your hair. His breath wafts down your neck, pulling up goosebumps in its wake. Your heart hammers against your chest.

yeah i'm gonna need like. 3 business days to recover from this one, boss

He’s slowly consumed every part of your life. It’s nice, you think. He looks so domesticated in these instances, like he’s your friend rather than someone to look after you. You like it. You like that he sometimes steals your shampoo when he runs out. You like that he learned what foods you like. You like that he made you a key. You like him. And that is a scary thought.

WHY WOULD YOU PUT THIS INTO SUCH LOVELY WORDS I AM LOSING MY MIND. !!!!!!!!!! MY POOR DOMESTIC HEART AAA

You know you’re on edge, but you can’t help it. It feels like a sin to want him.

A SIN???????? OOH GGFOGGFKGOFGK GODDDD

His smell permeates everything around you. Even in your new apartment with new furniture, you can’t wash away his cologne. Everything smells of cedar and smoke with a hint of citrus. You washed your clothes three times when you moved in, a feeble attempt at ridding yourself of him. You bought new shampoo.

JESUS CHRIST I AM NOT OKATY

You feel safe around him, regardless of the anger. You know he’d protect you regardless.

...... yu know it is embarrassing how much i'd trust this man. how pathetic i'd be for him. SOBBING

A cold hand slips beneath your shirt, soft and delicate against the red hot skin of your waist. You shiver against it. Devotion makes you dizzy as you pull away, breathing like you’ve nearly drowned. You steel yourself against his shoulders. He looks pretty like this, you think, lips kiss swollen and pulling in a grin around his teeth, face reddened with flush and excitement, hair falling into his eyes. “I resigned,” he says, panting. “So I could do that,” You laugh. “You could’ve done that anyway,” you say. He grins. “Felt wrong,” he says. “I wanted to do it right,”

you deserve a standing ovation for this one. holy shit. it flew so effortlessly and gosh. JDKDSFDKJF.

heaven is not fit

summary: what does it take to be loved? | bodyguard!leon x f!reader

word count: ~8.5k

warnings: mentions of violence, leon is kinda mean for like two seconds, strong language, mild trauma bonding (i guess??), not beta'd, incredibly mild angst (like fr you have to squint)

notes: this is sort of old and has already been posted to ao3 if you'd rather have a look there

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” you hiss. Your father’s face scrunches up.

“Language,” he mends, holding a hand up. “It’s just a precaution. He’ll be responsible for public spaces, taking you places, the like,”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “Dad, I’m an adult. I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself. The last thing I need is some stranger on my detail,”

Your father runs a hand over his worn features. He’s tired, you can tell. “I’m not making the same mistake twice,”

Ashley. She lives with her friends now, rather than alone, so there’s no real need to supervise her. Your heart twists with a twinge of guilt, but you hold your ground. “I’m not happy about this,”

“I didn’t expect you to be,” he says. “But, you’ll play by the rules, at least for me. For my sake, dove,”

You frown. “Fine,”

You meet him in a random conference room. He’s tall, with sharp features and blue eyes. He doesn’t seem friendly, which makes your mouth sour. He doesn’t speak through the introduction, just sort of stares straight ahead, like he’d rather be anywhere else. You don’t blame him. It’s not exactly a promotion he’s getting. You barely catch his name when he says it.

Leon.

It suits him, you think. You want to ask what his middle name is, if it’s as fitting as his first, but you don’t. Instead, you toe the carpet, listening to your father drone on about rules.

“Dovie, I’m serious,” he says, forcing you to look at him. “You don’t go anywhere alone, got it?”

“Got it,”

Despite your sickly sweet voice and feigned sincerity, you have no intention of keeping that promise. The ride to your apartment is silent. You notice that Leon drives with one hand, the other perched on the gear shift. When he stops outside your building, you hesitate for a moment before reaching for the handle, just in case he has something to say. As you shoulder the door, he grabs your elbow.

“Call if there’s an emergency,” he says. His voice is low timbred and honey sweetened, coating your nerves in warmth. You can only nod in response. He releases your arm, the tension from the area slipping away.

You hurry into your building, and you notice he waits until you’re through the door to drive off. It comforts you in a way. You make your way into your apartment. There’s a distinct heat on your neck when you enter, one that you hope disappears with a long shower. When it doesn’t, you find yourself staring at the phone. What would happen if you did call him? There wasn’t an emergency, unless you count this sudden bout of loneliness as an emergency. Would he show up? How is it any different than calling the police?

Six hours have passed since being demoted to babysat. You’ve been shuffled between rooms to meet with people, answer questions you don’t understand, and fight with your father. You find that being surrounded by people all day has made you exhausted. You take a breath, but jump when your phone vibrates.

“Hey, Ashley,” you say, sighing.

“Did you meet him?” she asks. You almost laugh.

“Yeah,” you say. “He doesn’t talk much,”

“No, he doesn’t,” she says. You can hear her friends laughing somewhere in the background. “You gotta get him to open up before he starts talking,”

“I can’t imagine that’ll be easy to do,” you huff. Ashley laughs. “He seems kinda stuck in his ways,”

“He is,” she agrees. “He’s…been through a lot. But, he’s a good guy. I think you’ll like him,”

You glance out the window at the rain. You wonder if it ever rained like this in Spain. “Well, if you trust him, so do I,”

…

You don’t see Leon for a week. You almost think he’s quit, but you know he doesn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. You consider calling him, just to see if he’d really show up, but you decide not to test it.

Instead, you go about your life normally. You go to work, you see friends, you buy groceries. You pretend you don’t have a babysitter.

On Monday, when you return home from work, you spot Leon’s car outside your building. Rolling your eyes, you prepare for the worst, and work your way into the building. Sure enough, he’s sitting on your couch when you enter your apartment.

“Make yourself at home,” you say, closing the door behind you. He doesn’t look at you.

“You haven’t called,” he says. You roll your eyes again.

“You said to call if there was an emergency,” you explain, cocking a brow. “There hasn’t been one,”

“You shouldn’t walk to work alone,” he continues. He turns his head finally, staring at you with the same stoic expression you first saw on him. You blink at him.

“How do you know I walk alone?” you ask. “Have you been following me?”

He nods. “It’s my job,”

You sigh, turning away. “Definitely not creepy,”

“Have you noticed anything weird?” he asks, standing to follow you into your kitchen.

“Other than you? No, I haven’t,” you say. He doesn’t laugh, not that you expected him to. “Seriously, I haven’t noticed anything amiss,”

He nods. “Good,”

He turns to leave, and you raise your eyebrows, surprised at the quickness of the interaction. “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter. “That’s it,”

“You don’t want to, like, scope out the area?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “Make sure no weirdos are lurking behind my curtains?”

“Do you think there are?” he asks, looking at you. There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“I mean, no,” you say.

“Then I won’t waste your time,” he says. “You’re an adult. I trust that you can take care of yourself,”

With that, he leaves. You’re taken aback at his cut and dry attitude. You would’ve thought he would be more hands on, given what you know about his time with Ashley. You choose to ignore it; you should be grateful he’s not up your ass. He said it himself, you’re an adult. You can take care of yourself. It’s not his fault–or yours–that no one else seemed to agree. He has plenty of other things he can spend his time doing besides watching your every move.

Which is why, the following morning, you’re surprised to see Leon waiting outside beside his car. You look around before crossing the street to him. Without a word, he opens the passenger door.

“I take it I’m not allowed to walk alone anymore?” you say, ignoring his gesture. He stares at you.

“Rules are rules,” he says. You roll your eyes, filing into the vehicle.

He joins you a moment later. You ignore the heat on your neck when he brushes his hand against your knee to reach for something in the glovebox.

“I’ve been walking this way for years,” you protest. “I don’t need a ride,”

“You don’t have a choice,” he says, cutting a glance at you. He almost makes a wrong turn before you correct him. “I make the rules, you follow them,”

“And rule number one is: don’t walk to work by myself?” you ask, annoyance lacing your tone.

“Well, rule number one is actually to call me if something’s wrong,” he corrects. “But, this is rule number two,”

The rest of the ride is silent. Leon doesn’t so much as glance at you, which almost upsets you. He pulls up to the curb outside of your workplace, and throws the car into park.

“What time do you get off?” he asks, finally looking at you. There’s a gentle tone to his voice, one that throws you off guard.

“Four,” you say. “I’ll be off at four,”

“I’ll be outside,” he says. At this, you exit the car, rounding it before entering the building. He waits for you to get inside before driving off. You wonder what he’ll be doing for the next eight hours. If his job is to follow you around, that means he doesn’t have another job to get to, so what does he do? You wonder what he does when he’s at home.

“Since when did you have a chauffeur?” Marnie asks, jabbing your shoulder.

“Since now,” you say, still looking out the window.

Four o’clock rolls around sooner than you expect. You find yourself a little excited to sit in the car; it’s a nice change of pace. As expected, Leon’s waiting outside the building when you walk out. Again, he’s leaning against the car, waiting for you. When he sees you, you think he’s going to smile. Your shoulders deflate when he doesn’t. Instead, he jerks his head in a gesture to hurry up. You cross the street, and he rounds the car to the passenger side.

“I can open the door myself,” you say. He looks at you.

“I do it for show,” he bites. You swallow, stunned by the harshness of his tone. You allow him to open the door for you.

The ride is silent. Again, he doesn’t look at you. You can feel the tension about him, the way his shoulders are square and strong. His knuckles are almost white from the way he’s holding the steering wheel. You ignore the guilt that brews in your stomach.

“Call me if there’s an emergency,” he says. You nod, hurrying out of the car to avoid any further conversation. Again, he waits until you’re in the building to leave. You wonder if that’s a gentlemanly habit or a job habit.

…

It’s Friday night, and you’re going out with friends. You stare in the mirror, like you have for the last half hour, analyzing the intricacies of your outfit. You can’t decide if you like it or not. You tug at the shirt again, wondering if you should change. There’s a knock at the door. You huff, deciding that the outfit will have to do.

You’re not sure who you expect to be at the door, but it’s not Leon. He looks collected, jacket slung over his shoulders, hair framing his face. He looks normal, not like a man constantly working. He blinks at you.

“Where’re you going?” he asks. You sigh.

“Hello to you, too, Leon,” you say. “I’m going out with a few friends,”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t have to ask permission for things,”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. You can practically feel the anger radiating off of him. “You kind of do, actually. So I can be where I need to be,”

“Well, I don’t need you to be anywhere,” you bite. He frowns. “I can take care of myself,”

At this, you go to shut the door, but he stops it with his foot. He pushes his way into the apartment, closing the door behind him.

“Look,” he says, voice low and gentle. “I get it. But I have a job to do, and I’m not going to let your stubborn independence get in the way, alright?”

You stare at him. “Stop being such an asshole, and I’ll think about it,”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of playfulness to it. “Sure, deal,”

Leon doesn’t follow you into the bar, and if he actually does, he makes it so that you can’t see him. You spend the evening laughing and enjoying yourself, which is relieving. You needed a break from everything. Your friends ask about the fact that you got a ride here, rather than walking.

“My feet have been killing me lately,” you lie. “And have you seen these shoes? I’d probably die ten feet from my building,”

When you’re sufficiently drunk, you call Leon. It’s the first time that you’ve actually called him, rather than just expecting him to show up. He’s kind enough to act like he’s not in the vicinity, and you pretend that he’s not. Instead, you lie to yourself and say that he drives very fast. He’s standing outside the bar, waiting for you again.

“My hero,” you say, voice flighty and gentle. “I shouldn’t have worn these shoes,”

He doesn’t answer, just helps you into the car. You ramble about your night on the drive home, not giving him the room to answer because you know he won’t.

“Did you learn to drive on a manual?” you mumble, whirring your head away from the window to look at him. He glances at you.

“What?”

“A manual,” you say again. “Manual transmission. You drive with your hand on the shift, like you’ll need to use it at any given moment. In an automatic, you don’t need to do that, but in a manual you do. So, if you learned to drive on a manual, you would’ve picked up that habit,”

He doesn’t respond for a long while. His eyes are focused on the road ahead of him. Finally, he says, “Yeah, I did,”

You feel satisfied with yourself, surprised that you were able to figure that out. “You have a lot of habits like that,”

“Name some,” he says, cutting a glance at you.

You take in a breath. “You wait outside before leaving so you can make sure I get into my building safely. You bite the inside of your cheek when you’re thinking about something. You square your shoulders in public, like you’re prepared to shoot,”

“You’re observant,” he says. You grin.

“Gotta know who I’m spending time with,” you reply, grinning wildly and returning your focus to the window.

“Do you need help getting in?” he asks. The gentle tone is back, and you pretend, for a moment, that he genuinely cares. You shake your head.

He watches you almost fall out of the car, stumbling on your tall heels and drunken legs. You right yourself, flashing him a smile. He returns it, then follows you out of the car.

“I can make it,” you say, balancing against his car. When you almost fall again, he’s there to catch you. His hands fall against your waist with ease, like they’re meant to be there. You feel heat flush your cheeks, and you almost move away. He steadies you, giving you a look to make sure you’re alright.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, still smiling faintly.

“I’ve never seen you smile before,” you say. “You should do it more, it’s nice,”

Leon looks beautiful in pink, cheeks reddened and round. When he releases you, you consider falling again just so he’ll return. Instead, you gesture for him to follow you into the building, which he does. Although the stairs are a tough bet, you manage to stumble up them. You swear you hear Leon huff a laugh behind you when you stagger.

At your door, you pat your pockets in order to find your key. Sensing your loss, Leon holds out the key he has. You accept it gratefully, turning the knob to make sure it’s actually locked.

Your heart sinks to find it unlocked.

“Did you forget to lock it?” he asks, voice hushed. You turn to him, fear evident on your face, and shake your head. He steps between you and the door, and holds a hand out to tell you to stay put. You find yourself willing to listen.

He enters the apartment slowly, quietly. You pretend there isn’t a gun in his hand. He rounds the corner into the kitchen, and you catch his frame again when he crosses the room to the bedroom. He returns in a few minutes.

“It’s clear,” he says. He pushes the door open more to allow you to enter. You feel uneasy, suddenly sober.

“I never forget to lock my door,” you promise. “Ever. Is…is the window open or something?”

He shakes his head. “You must’ve forgotten this time,”

“No, no I don’t do that,” you say. You wander to the window, finding it closed. Your head hurts. You feel on edge, like there’s someone watching you.

With a sigh, you sit on the couch.

“There’s no one here,” Leon promises, sitting beside you. You look at him. “Trust me, I checked,”

“But what if someone was here?” you say, looking at him. “I don’t…I don’t want them to come back,”

He reaches out for a moment, then decides to return his hand to his side. “No one’s coming back. I’ll make sure of it, okay?”

You can feel your hands shaking. “Will you stay?”

He softens when he looks at you. He can see the fear in your eyes. You think of your sister, stolen from somewhere she felt safe. You feel safe in your home, as anyone might. You don’t want to face the same fate. You know Leon knows that.

“Yeah,” he says. “Go change, I’ll be out here,”

You nod, rising to your feet. You wander past the window again, double checking that it’s closed. You find your clothes in the dark, not caring too much about what you put on. A shower sounds nice. You’re afraid to be alone for that long, though. Instead, you wash your face in the sink, then throw on your clothes, a loose t-shirt from a far off ex-boyfriend and sweatpants. You feel vaguely comforted by the thought of Leon sitting right outside the door.

“I’m going to try to sleep,” you call from the door. You want nothing more than to curl up in your bed.

“I’ll be right here,” Leon returns. “I’ll keep watch,”

You shuffle into bed easily. You feel safer knowing he’s outside, waiting for any potential threats. You feel especially safe knowing his reputation precedes him. There’s no doubt in your mind that he would protect you. It makes it easier to sleep.

You wake sometime later to a creak beside your bed. Your eyes shoot open to find a figure looming over you. You move to scream, but your eye catches the glint of moonlight against the barrel of a gun. You swallow whatever scream you had left, and rise to your feet. You’re moving without much thought, just doing whatever instinct tells you to. The figure says nothing, just motions to the window. You run through your options. If you shout, you’ll be dead before Leon even makes it into the room. You can’t fight him off, you’re definitely not strong enough. If you leave with him, you’ll be dead before Leon notices you’re gone.

You turn to face your attacker, who seems to grow frustrated with you. He, again, gestures to the open window. You take a breath.

Follow your gut.

In a fluid motion that surprises you, your fingers wrap around the barrel of the gun, shoving it towards the ceiling. You feel lucky; just as it’s pointed away from you, it’s fired. You knee the attacker in the stomach, and you’re out the door before he rises from the ground.

“What’s going on?” Leon shouts, assessing you for injuries quickly before entering the room.

You’re crying now, fat tears rolling down your cheeks before you can stop them. Your hand screams with pain, seared flesh crying out angry and red. You feel stupid, weak, small. You collapse onto the couch while Leon takes care of things.

The next two hours are a blur of police and your father. You answer questions vacantly, absent from the situation. Leon sits beside you, dressing the wound on your hand.

“Dovie,” your father says, holding your face in his hands. You begin to cry again. He pulls you into a hug, holding you as close as he can. You grip the back of his shirt, and sob into his shoulder.

“I’m okay,” you say. It’s true. You’re alive, breathing, hugging him. “I’m okay,”

When the crowd shuffles out, they take you and Leon with them. You vaguely hear them discussing where you’re supposed to stay, Lord knows you can’t stay here. You feel sick.

“She can stay with me,” Leon volunteers. You somehow feel worse. “Makes sense,”

You follow him to the car. You stare out the window. The sun is coming up on the horizon, a new day. You can’t help but think about how just 24 hours ago, you were in this passenger seat, on your way to work. Now, though, you’re swollen and hurting and scared. Your hand feels like it might just burn away.

“I didn’t know what to do,” you say by way of explanation. Leon doesn’t respond, so you continue. “I just grabbed it. I didn’t know it would burn me,”

“You’re lucky nothing is broken,” he says calmly. “Your fingers’ll be stiff for the next few days,”

You look down at them. They’re swollen for sure, round and angry red around the knuckles. There’s a strip of gauze against the burn on your palm now, courtesy of Leon’s deft and gentle hands. You graze it with your opposite hand. It aches beneath the dressing, a painful reminder of your night.

“I’m just up here,” Leon says quietly. You nod absently.

He lives in an apartment, same as you. He resides on the third floor, which is much nicer a walk than your seventh story apartment. His apartment is small, quaint, but you aren’t surprised by the lack of decoration. Blank white walls wrap the room. There’s a few pieces of furniture, but only the necessities like a couch, a few tables, a dining area, and a coat rack. He doesn’t even have a TV, which surprises you. He ushers you into the space, gently pushing against your back to get you to move.

“Go lie down,” he says. You turn to look at him. His gaze is softer now, full of sympathy. “You deserve peaceful, uninterrupted sleep,”

You don’t move. “You saved me,” you say. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t there,”

“You handled yourself pretty well,” he says, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. You can feel tears resting in your eyes, begging to spill over. “I was there, and now you’re here. Nothing else to it. You’re safe with me,”

“I know,” you whisper. “I know,”

Without thinking, you wrap your arms around him. His embrace is comforting. His arms encircle your waist, holding you in an almost practiced way. He’s strong, holds you up where you can’t stand on your own. You can feel yourself beginning to cry again, relief washing over you as you recognize that you’re truly safe. You’re mostly uninjured, save for the burn on your hand, and you’re alive. You sob gently into Leon’s shoulder, and he holds you. He lets you cry. You half expect him to mock you, or to reject your plea for comfort, but he doesn’t. He holds you, gently and carefully, cradling you as you fall apart. And you know, in that moment, that he won’t hold it against you later.

…

You spend the next week off work, curled away in the safety of Leon’s apartment. He goes out, although rarely, for groceries and other things to entertain you. He even buys a TV. He claims that he’s been meaning to get one, but you know that he did that so you didn’t die of boredom. Initially, you were concerned about the sleeping arrangements. However, Leon is generous and lets you sleep in his bed while he shacks up on the couch.

“When can I go home?” you ask over Chinese takeout and an episode of Wheel of Fortune. Leon smiles at you.

“Getting tired of me already?” he teases.

Spending actual time with Leon has made you realize that he’s funny and playful. He’s not always stoic and unforgiving. He teases, he jokes, he smiles. You didn’t think the latter was possible. You just assumed that he was always unhappy.

“No,” you say honestly. “I just don’t want you to sleep on the couch anymore,”

He waves a hand at you. “It’s pretty comfortable,” he says, reaching down to pat the cushions. “I’ve slept in worse places,”

“This is your home, though,” you say. He wordlessly passes you an eggroll. “You should sleep in your own bed in your own home,”

He shrugs, which makes you frown. “As long as you’re safe and comfortable, I’ll sleep on the floor if I have to,”

“Damn it, Leon,” you laugh. He grins wider. “For the love of God, sleep in your own bed tonight,”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine, but you don’t get to sleep on the couch either, just so you know,”

Heat creeps up your neck, blushing against your cheeks and nose. You’re still smiling, but it’s more flustered now, shy and sweet.

Leon notices, and begins to flush himself. “That’s…that’s not what I meant,”

“I mean,” you begin, turning your eyes back to your food. “We can both sleep comfortably and not worry. I trust you,”

He lets out a barely audible breath. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, we can,”

That night, as you’re getting ready for bed, you notice Leon shifting nervously. You try to ignore it, pretend like nothing’s wrong. It’s easier to pretend. He keeps a decent distance between you on the bed; another person could easily fit between you. You’re suddenly self conscious, aware of each and every movement, how much blanket you take up, where your feet are laying.

“You never answered my question,” you say when he flips the lamp off. The room is flooded in darkness. You feel a little more confident now that you can’t see his face.

“What question?”

“About when I can go home,” you answer. He shifts beside you, almost like he’s about to get up.

“Not for a little while,” he says. You sigh. “It’s not safe for you at the apartment. Your dad doesn’t even want you going to work, but I worked something out so that you can. You can…you can stay here as long as you want,”

“Okay,” is all you say. You feel a little far away, removed from the world. In just under a month, you’ve lost all sense of independence, something you valued greatly, and have been reduced to someone that needs to be looked after like a child. You hate it.

“We can find a temporary apartment, too, if you think that’d be better,” Leon amends. “I just thought…you might be more comfortable here,”

You smile at that. You can hear the insecurity in his voice, something you find sweet. “I’d like to stay here,”

“Okay,” he says. You can almost hear the smile. It makes your heart flutter.

You turn onto your side, facing him. He’s still lying on his back, watching the ceiling as if it’s going to collapse. He glances at you. “If we’re going to be living together, we should get to know each other,”

He laughs. It’s a real laugh, not just a huff of air through the nose. “And what do you want to know?”

You think for a moment, tongue poking between your lips. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Don’t have one,” he replies easily. You snort.

“Everyone has a favorite color,” you say. He looks at you with a smile resting on his cheeks. It’s not compulsory; it’s genuine.

“What’s yours then?” he asks, voice low and gentle. You feel like you might melt away under his gaze.

“Blue,” you say. You almost tell him that his eyes have become your favorite shade of it, but you refrain. “Like the ocean,”

His smile widens. “Then that’s mine, too,” he says. You roll your eyes.

“No way,” you tease. “What is Leon Kennedy’s favorite color? And give me a real answer,”

He laughs. “Green,”

“Like, Kermit the Frog green or forest green?” you ask. He shrugs.

“Just…green,”

“So if I were to paint the apartment bright green you wouldn’t have a problem with it?” you ask. His expression sours. “So you don’t like every green, then,”

“I like dark greens,” he says finally, still smiling. “Like pine trees,”

“I never thought I would get an honest answer out of you,” you joke, but there’s truth to it. You don’t imagine him as someone who likes to share.

“To be fair,” he says. “It wasn’t like I was withholding information, I’ve just never thought about my favorite color,”

“Well, now you have,” you say. He grins at you, and you feel like the entire city lights up a little more.

He’s quiet for a moment. The moonlight casts over his face in a way that somehow makes him prettier. “If you could only bring one thing to a deserted island, what would it be?”

“God, your questions are so lame,” you tease. He rolls his eyes.

“Just answer it,” he says.

“I’d bring you,” you say honestly. “Knowing you, we wouldn’t get stuck there, and I’d be home in a few days,”

“I wouldn’t get stuck in the first place,” he says. You shake your head. “Honestly, I’d probably bring something to listen to music on,”

“Then you better hope it doesn’t die,” you say. “Good to know the sentiment is equally held, by the way,”

“Would you be able to get us off the island?” he asks, poking your shoulder. You shake your head. “Exactly,”

“I’d keep you company while you got us off the island,” you say. He laughs. Your heart seizes for a moment at the sound.

“What would I do without your terrible jokes?”

“My jokes aren’t terrible!”

“Totally terrible,” he promises, turning over to his other side, facing away from you. “Some of the worst I’ve ever heard,”

You laugh. “Yeah, well, yours are pretty bad, too, y’know?”

“You wound me,”

You fall asleep easily beside Leon. The safety his presence brings is immeasurable, and you’re coaxed into sleep without a second thought. When you wake, your head is on his shoulder, arms wrapped around one of his own. You cling to him like he’s keeping you alive. His breathing is slow, giving away the fact that he’s still sleeping, so you steal a glance at him. His other arm is slung over his face to block out the sunlight peering through the window. Feeling strange, you roll onto your other side. Almost as if he senses you moving, he follows you, caging you into his arms. You feel like your heart stops when he pulls you in, sighing into your hair. His breath wafts down your neck, pulling up goosebumps in its wake. Your heart hammers against your chest.

…

It becomes routine. Until your father deems it safe to return to your own apartment, you shack up with Leon, spending your nights watching television and lying beside him. If he ever notices that you cling to each other, he doesn’t mention it, which you silently thank him for. He goes about life as normal, as if he hasn’t changed the way you look at him.

There’s menial touches exchanged. The grab of a hand during a movie, a palm to your lower back as he passes, the brush of hands when you pass him something. And although you welcome these bits of contact, they often leave you a blushing mess that struggles to even get words out.

He drives you to work still, which you’re becoming accustomed to. He’s there when you finish up. He’s the person you split groceries with–which he only let you start doing after you argued with him for days about it. He’s slowly consumed every part of your life. It’s nice, you think. He looks so domesticated in these instances, like he’s your friend rather than someone to look after you. You like it. You like that he sometimes steals your shampoo when he runs out. You like that he learned what foods you like. You like that he made you a key.

You like him. And that is a scary thought.

It makes you freeze up around him, stumbling between words until you find something to say. It makes you stare at him in awe because you can’t believe you get to be around him all the time. It makes you blush any time he meets your eyes. You feel childish because it makes you that way.

“Gonna tell me what’s up with you, or do I have to interrogate you?” he asks one night over pizza. You’ve been sitting with the plate in your lap for ten minutes.

“Nothing’s up,” you say, lying through your teeth. You’re a bad liar, and he knows it. When you look at him, he’s watching you, analyzing your body language. You know you’re on edge, but you can’t help it. It feels like a sin to want him.

He looks pretty like this, you think. He looks comfortable, wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, no weapons stuck to him. Your hand twitches with the desire to reach out to him.

“So you’ve been acting weird the last few days for fun?” he asks. You nod. “You’re such a shitty liar, sweet girl,”

His voice is gentle; it warms you up. “Really, Leon, I’m alright,”

He holds his hands up in defense. “Okay, I won’t pry. But, I’m here to listen,”

You force yourself to eat, to be normal. You can’t even look at him because you’re afraid of what you might say if you do. He wouldn’t mock you for it, and that’s somehow worse. You almost want him to belittle you, to call you stupid, because that would make pushing him away much easier. If he doesn’t, then who are you to cut him off?

“I can practically hear the gears turning, doll,” Leon calls from the kitchen. You sigh. “If you’re not going to share, don’t be so loud about it, huh?”

You know it’s meant to be a joke, but it makes your mouth sour. He can’t help the curiosity, you know that, but you wish he would back off. It would make your life so much easier if he pretended that you didn’t exist.

“I don’t have to tell you everything about me,” you say. It comes out harsh even though it wasn’t supposed to. “I’m entitled to my own thoughts. Or is that another thing you’re paid to infiltrate?”

He stands in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at you. “I don’t think I’m infiltrating anything,” he says. His voice is even, but you can hear the hurt in the words.

“Then keep it that way,” you say. He inhales deeply, beginning to gnaw on his cheek. You feel guilt wrapping around your throat. You turn your gaze back to the television, feigning interest in the commercial that clogs the speakers. He disappears back into the kitchen.

You’re almost thankful when your phone rings. You don’t get many calls, so when you see it’s your father, you’re less than surprised.

“Hey, Dad,” you say breathily.

“Hey, Dovie,” he returns. “Getting all packed?”

You pause, glancing toward the archway into the kitchen. “Packed?”

“He didn’t tell you, did he?”

“Tell me what?” you ask, sitting up on the couch. You can hear Leon shuffle in the other room. “What do I need to be told?”

“We’re moving you,” your father says, plain as day. “We’ll be finding someone else to watch over you, too,”

“Huh,” is all you say. There’s less guilt around your shoulders now, replaced by anger and humiliation. “Well, if that’s how it goes,”

“I’ll get back to you later, okay, Dovie?” he says. “Get to packing, I’ll tell you more when I can,”

You bid your father goodbye, staring back at the phone screen long after it goes black. You feel your shoulders deflate, allowing the melancholy to consume you a little bit further. You stand, return to Leon’s room, and pull open the dresser drawers where your clothes have resided for the last few weeks. Slowly, almost on autopilot, you begin pulling them out one by one. A shirt, pants, sweatpants, a lone sock; they fall onto the floor with an unceremonious thud. You go until the drawer is empty, the contents piled up on the floor beside your feet.

“I was going to tell you,” comes from the bedroom door. You take a breath. “I didn’t know how,”

“I assume it would’ve been pretty easy,” you say, turning to look him in the eye. He stiffens at the cruelty lacing your tone. “All you had to do was let me know you were done with me. Not like you were in all that deep anyway,”

He doesn’t say anything. You cross the room to the small closet that holds your suitcase. You begin to haphazardly stuff it with your clothes.

“I didn’t want to disappoint you, sweet girl,” Leon says softly, taking a step forward.

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty fucking disappointed right now,” you spit, glancing at him. “Would’ve liked to have known my life was getting upended days ago. Would’ve liked to have known that I was wasting my fucking time,”

“Wasting your time?” he asks, catching your wrist as you push down the top of the suitcase.

“I tried so hard to get to know you, Leon,” you say. He winces. “And to think, that for a fraction of a second, I thought you liked me? I feel stupid. You never cared. It’s not in your nature. You go in, do the job, and get out. When’s the last time you talked to Ashley, huh? Or is that something else you like to keep boxed away?”

He releases your wrist. You continue packing your things, and he leaves the room. He returns a moment later with your nearly empty bottle of shampoo.

“Don’t forget this when you leave,” he says coldly. You ignore the ache it leaves in your bones.

“Might as well keep it,” you say. “You’ve used most of it anyway,”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Isn’t that one hell of a metaphor?” you say before you can stop yourself. “I gave and gave, and you just took. I told you things I’ve never told anyone. And what do I know about you? Your favorite color is green. And even then, it was like pulling fucking teeth to get it out of you. Just keep it. I don’t want it anyway. Can’t put the shampoo back in the bottle, right?”

“I get that you’re angry,” he mumbles. “I understand,”

“No, you don’t,” you say, turning to him finally. He’s staring at you. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t place. “You have no idea what I’m feeling right now,”

“You’re right,” he says. You falter for a moment. “I never once said that I did. I just…understand. I can follow the logic between you and your emotion,”

You roll your eyes, choosing not to respond. Your suitcase finally zips closed, and you haul it off the bed, nearly knocking yourself down. He drives you back to your apartment. He doesn’t say anything the entire ride, not even when you finally get out of the car. You leave the key to his place on the center console.

…

You feel ridiculous. Your heart aches, and for what? A man who never showed interest? You ignore the acrid taste in your mouth that seems to never go away. You ignore the yearning in your bones. You ignore the burning in your chest. It’s easier that way.

He tries calling. You ignore those, too. You pretend he’s a telemarketer, or a prank calling kid, or an old man with the wrong number. You pretend you don’t recognize the number, and that the messages he leaves on your machine are empty. You find that pretending makes the hurting stop for a while, even if it creeps back up when you’re staring at the ceiling at night because you can’t sleep alone anymore.

You cook breakfast more often now, finding that it takes up the empty time in the morning before you go to work. The new guy is nice. He talks about his wife a lot, which you find sweet. You like that there’s no unresolved tension when you get into his car. You just wish you could remember his name.

“Do you know him?” he asks, pointing across the parking lot. Leon leans against his car, watching you pull in. You sigh.

“Yeah,” you say. “He’s friendly,”

“Doesn’t look like it,”

“Well,” you say. “He’s not actually friendly. But he’s not a threat,”

He lets you leave. You can almost see the way Leon stretches back up when you approach. You set your jaw.

“You haven’t been answering my calls,” he says. You raise your brows at him.

“I don’t have to,” you say. “You lost that privilege.”

He shakes his head. “I’d still like to know if you’re okay,”

“I’m fine, Leon,” you say. He nods. “What are you doing here?”

“Just checking in,”

You feel like a fool the second you invite him upstairs. You can’t help it. You want to be around him. You feel safe around him, regardless of the anger. You know he’d protect you regardless.

You feel insecure about the state of your new apartment. You haven’t gotten around to breaking it in, so to speak, so the walls are bleak and empty, there’s a loveseat and nothing else, and a single lamp lights up the room. You wring your hands together.

“Missing a few things,” he says. “Where’s all your stuff?”

“Haven’t gotten around to putting it up,” you lie. It’s more like you haven’t wanted to put anything up. You don’t want this place to feel like a home because it isn’t. This is temporary—as long as you keep telling yourself that, it feels true.

“I’ll get you a rug,” he says, meeting your eyes. It almost feels like a peace offering.

“I don’t need a rug,” you say. You see his shoulders slump. “I prefer socks anyway,”

“Right, yeah,”

He’s silent for a while, just watches you as you set up for the night. He sits rigid against the cushions of your couch, hands clasped in his lap. You grab a frozen pizza from the freezer for dinner. His eyes don’t leave you. You don’t feel uncomfortable under his gaze, it’s almost comforting.

“I owe you an explanation,” he says finally. You almost laugh.

“I don’t need an explanation, Leon,” you say. “I get it. Your job makes you move around a lot. You were never intended to be permanent,”

“I resigned,” he says. At this, you turn to face him. He’s searching your features for a reaction, and you fight to keep them neutral, but you know he can see the discomposure. Heat creeps up your neck, threatens to swallow you whole.

“You resigned?” you repeat, far quieter in order to conceal the stutter in your breath.

He nods. “I did what I thought I was supposed to,”

“And that was leaving me?” you say. He averts his eyes. “How on Earth is that what you were supposed to do? You were being paid to be around me, and you thought you were supposed to leave?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, returning his gaze to you. “You have to know that that’s not what I meant,”

“Leon,” you say, leaning against the counter. “I don’t know a thing about you. I don’t know if what you’ve told me about is even fucking true!”

“My middle name is Scott,” he says. You blink at him. “My favorite color is green, that was true. I slept with a baby blanket until I was thirteen years old. I lost my parents when I was young. I used to be a cop,”

He unloads. For the first time since you met him, he lets you into his head a little bit. You take in a breath.

“I don’t…” he begins, then shuts his mouth again. He gnaws on his bottom lip for a moment. “I don’t know how to be…like this anymore. Vulnerable,”

You join him on the couch. He watches you carefully. “That’s okay,”

“It’s something I’m working on,” he says, smiling slightly. You can’t fight one of your own. “I think you make it easier,”

“I’ll be here to listen,” you say quietly. “You know you’re always welcome,”

He grins then. “Whether you want me here or not, right?”

You laugh. “I always want you here,”

There’s something left unsaid between you, but he’s looking at you and laughing at your jokes, and you feel like the world begins to spin again. You feel like the sun shines a little brighter outside, and the colors are clearer, and songs sound like music.

…

You find out that his name is Ryan. He’s more like a personal chauffeur than his intended job, but you like him well enough. Leon spends most of his time on your couch. Things are normal again. He offers to cook dinner most nights, which you appreciate. He does end up buying you a rug–he claims it’s because his feet get too cold without it.

“If you do that one more time, I’m kicking you out,” you scold, swatting Leon’s hand away for the millionth time. He laughs loudly, widely, and it breathes a new air into your lungs.

“I swear to God, sweet girl,” he says between laughter. “There’s something on your face,”

“Then just get it!” you say, wiping your hand aggressively against your cheek. “It doesn’t take a thousand pokes to get something off my face,”

“Hey, I keep missing because you keep moving,” he says, shrugging his shoulders dramatically. You roll your eyes. “C’mere,”

You lean in a bit more, and he swipes his hand against your cheek. For a moment too long, it remains, delicately holding you as if you might break under increased pressure. He clears his throat and retracts his hand. You feel heat creep up in its place.

“You staying tonight?” you ask. He shrugs. “You know the couch will miss you if you don’t,”

He laughs at this. Your heart swells at the sound. “You just like using me as your personal alarm clock,”

“Not true,” you gasp, clutching your heart in feigned offense. “My couch grows increasingly lonely at night,”

He rolls his eyes. “Sure,”

It occurs to you, in that moment, just how much you want him to kiss you. It would certainly make things a lot easier if he did. You’re almost desperate for him to kiss you. The feeling you have for him is akin to idolatry, an offshoot of worship. He’s magnetic, pulls you in in a way you can’t describe. You can see the entire world in his eyes. He is divinity in its most basic form. Whatever religion he’s created, you would gladly follow it until your last breath.

Want consumes you. An insurmountable degree of yearning swallows you, floods your senses, makes you unstable.

“Why did you resign?” you ask. His expression falters for a moment. “You never explained it to me,”

He doesn’t answer, just swallows thickly. You take in a breath like it might be your last.

You wring your hands. “I’m owed at least that,”

“I thought it would make things easier,” he says. The answer is vague, like you’d expected. It doesn’t answer your questions.

“That’s not an answer, Leon,” you say, frowning. “Can you give me a straight answer, just this once? I don’t care if you lie to me for the rest of my life, but, please, just give me this,”

He stares at you, as if he’s trying to get one last look at you. “I wanted to start over,”

Your brows knit together as you watch him. He’s stiff against the arm of the couch he leans on. His shoulders are square, jaw set, eyes forward. It’s been a while since he’s gotten a haircut, you notice.

“Start over?” you repeat.

“With you,” he says, staring into the wall behind you. “I wanted you to know me…differently,”

Your heart hammers against your chest. You hope you’re reading this the right way, because if you’re not, you might just die where you sit. “How did you want me to know you?”

“As a person,” he says, meeting your eyes again. “I wanted you to…like me. Not just see me as a guy that follows you around,”

You smile. “I liked you anyway, Leon,” you say. He flushes.

“I mean,” he stutters. “I mean that…I wanted to be right,”

You don’t know when, but he’s leaned in. You can feel his breath on your lips, floating back against your ears. He’s looking at you through his lashes, all starry eyed and vulnerable. His cheeks are pink, rosy and soft. You want him to kiss you. You wonder, for a moment, what it would be like if he did. Goosebumps surface across your skin at the thought, shivering against the flesh like you’d stepped into the cold. You want him to kiss you.

With a shaking breath, you ask, “Right about what?”

He brushes a strand of hair away from your face with a trembling hand. It slots against the curve of your jaw, just below your ear. You notice that his hands are freezing, but it’s a welcome change in temperature given the heat that resides in your cheeks. You wonder if he can feel the beat of your pulse, hammer strong and rapid against the muscle. You wonder if his would feel the same.

“Leon?” you breathe. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “Are you going to kiss me?”

His breath is shaky. “Do you want me to?”

“Please,”

He indulges. He’s soft against you, sugary sweet and easygoing. He breathes you in like he’ll never get the chance to again. Your hands wind into the collar of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer, an attempt to fuse into one. It’s a crescendo at the end of a symphony, harmonies and melodies colliding into one final note. Your ears are ringing. It’s a soft collision of warmth and intimacy, lips and hums that finally get to meet.

“I resigned,” he says, panting. “So I could do that,”

You laugh. “You could’ve done that anyway,” you say. He grins.

“Felt wrong,” he says. “I wanted to do it right,”

#fic recs #AAAA LOVE IT LOVE IT SO MUCHFJFD

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starlightbright · 10 months ago

Text

Going to need to call about getting my cat subcutaneous fluid in the morning. Honestly, I probably should have a vet show me how to do it because he's so nauseous but dehydrated and will need lots of fluid to get him back where he needs to be so his kidneys aren't totally fucked. I can tell the tech last time seemed kind of annoyed by how often he's in the office, which is frustrating.

Ugh, I'm shaking and feel sick. I get this little quiver in my left ribs whenever I'm really anxious and it's going crazy right now. I have to do a lot of stuff to care for him without a whole lot of help as is (of the eight times I fed him yesterday, my mom helped by filling up syringes maybe three times and held the syringe for me while I followed him around on the floor once - my dad got up and checked on him once when he was napping in the bathroom), but I'm willing to take on giving him shots of liquid if that's what he needs. I'm going to have to DEMAND help, I know. But I'm willing to do that, too. I just can't lose him.

He's the most kind, friendly, beautiful, and special cat I have ever met. He doesn't ever hiss or swat. His only behavioral problem was jumping on counters, but he stopped doing that. He doesn't mind being pet by strangers. He likes being kissed on. He likes tummy rubs and stretching his leg out as far on you as he can while in his sleep so he can "hug" you. He keeps his cool whenever the dogs bark and tolerates when they get in his face. He's just so full of love and it's killing me to see him suffering like this, especially knowing that there's more that can be done to help him. He deserves the world. He deserves to live until summer, when he can sunbathe in the window for hours. He deserves to be able to have his nose clear enough to smell catnip again and purr for fifteen minutes straight while rubbing his face on the nearest object. He deserves to have the energy to diligently wash his coat instead of getting bits of dried food in it. He deserves to feel safe enough to sleep in someone - anyone's - lap with his paw stretched all the way out and pulling them as close as he can. He deserves to heal.

#personal

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tamlinsimp · 2 years ago

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Do you have any songs that you associate with Tamlin? I have a few that fit him after Feyre left the Spring Court, and though I do love a good sad song, I wonder if you or your followers have anything happier to add? I'm also happy to discover more sad songs, too, though. ;)

Here's my list:

Someone You Loved – Lewis Capaldi [excerpt: I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to save me, This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy; I need somebody to heal, Somebody to know, Somebody to have, Somebody to hold, It's easy to say, But it's never the same, I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain; Now the day bleeds, Into nightfall, And you're not here, To get me through it all, I let my guard down, And then you pulled the rug, I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved]

Before You Go – Lewis Capaldi (TW: this song is about losing a family member to suicide, but before I knew that about this song, I thought it was fitting for Tamlin losing Feyre to Rhysand and the Night Court) [excerpt: I fell by the wayside like everyone else; I hate you, I hate you, I hate you; But I was just kidding myself; Our every moment, I start to replace; 'Cause now that they're gone; All I hear are the words that I needed to say; When you hurt under the surface; Like troubled water running cold; Well, time can heal but this won't; So, before you go; Was there something I could've said to make your heart beat better? If only I'd have known you had a storm to weather; So, before you go; Was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting? It kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless; So, before you go]

What Could Have Been – From “Arcane” by Sting, though my favorite cover is by Aloma Steele [excerpt: I hope you know we had everything; When you broke me and left these pieces; I want you to hurt like you hurt me today and I want you to lose like I lose when I play; What could have been; Oh, what could have been; Why don't you love who I am? What we could have been]

Monster – Imagine Dragons [excerpt: If I told you what I was, Would you turn your back on me? And if I seem dangerous, Would you be scared? I get the feeling just because, Everything I touch isn't dark enough If this problem lies in me. I'm only a man with a candle to guide me, I'm taking a stand to escape what's inside me. A monster, a monster, I've turned into a monster, A monster, a monster, And it keeps getting stronger.]

Thanks for humoring me! :)

P.S. If this doesn't fit your blog, feel free to delete. No hard feelings.

Hi anon,

I actually have a few and they are Filipino love songs. Still sung in English but are considered "filipino" music. But some of the ones that specifically reminds me of Tamlin in ACOTAR are The Scientist by Coldplay and Somewhere Only We Know by Keane. Ugh, ki/lls me. I'm going to listen to those! If you know have playlist specifically for Tamlin, let me know :)

#tamlin #pro tamlin

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aching-tummies · 3 years ago

Note

(Not exactly sure if I'm really doing this right but here we go.) If I was your partner... I'd take you someplace nice and encourage you to eat whatever you want. After a large meal I'd be the one to drive home, as your complaining of an upset stomach. Wanting a reaction, I'd take you down the secluded, bumpy road to see what happens.

A/N: Thanks for the lovely ask! I kind of deviated a little, incorporating some of what's been going on in my life lately (new job, stresses causing me to skip meals, the craving for pasta, etc.) The beginnings of this do delve into spiraling about weight(loss) and body image stuff a little...so if that's a trigger for people then this is your warning.

It’s been more than two years since we indulged in dine-in service at a place with non-disposable cutlery. I’ve been craving pasta for even longer than that. Creamy, garlic-y, non-reheated pasta served on a plate and twirled around a metal fork.

We haven’t taken any opportunities to celebrate for the last two years. Birthdays, holidays, promotions at work or major advancements in our career adventures—we’ve barely done anything more than acknowledge them as we both go to pick up extra shifts wherever it is that we have been working. Honestly, we’ve seen so little of each other that it wouldn’t surprise either of us if the other snuck in a job-change in the last two years. That all changes tonight.

A nearby pasta place is offering dine-in service. We booked a reservation for tonight—all you have to do is pick me up from work and we can head on over.

I’m the one that managed to sneak in a job-change in the craziness. Fast-food to office intern. I’m barely handling things. I’ve been beyond exhausted because the change happened suddenly. The office place demanded that I start with them on a whim (despite my only condition on hiring being the time to give my fast-food job the proper two week notice). Due to their abrupt “start now or we will move ahead with other candidates” ultimatum, I’ve been pulling 44+ hour weeks juggling two jobs located on opposite ends of the city.

Tonight is a celebration. Dine-in service by itself is already something to celebrate in my books, but you’re insisting that tonight is for me because I finally finished my dues to the fast-food place. The hellish four weeks of juggling is over. No more calls at midnight from me begging you to pick me up from some random quadrant of the city because I nodded off on the last bus home. No more days where I make it home from my office job only to get an urgent call from the fast-food place begging/demanding that I show up because someone cut work. No more packed weeks with no days off or time to even pack myself lunch. Hopefully no more nights where you have to peel me off of the floor because making it home was all I managed before passing out from exhaustion.

I’ve got an hour before you’re set to come pick me up from my office job. I can’t help but smile as I count down the minutes while working on editing some funding proposal that was shoved at me a couple of minutes ago.

My stomach grumbles at me and I clam up. I blush as I look around to ensure nobody heard it. The office is basically empty. All the other staff seem to have gone off to lunch. That’s something I’m going to have to get used to: the fact that there doesn’t seem to be a set schedule here…people head out to lunch whenever. As a petrified newbie, I haven’t had the guts to just take off whenever. The number of shifts where I’ve stayed here for a full eight hours and then navigated an hour and a half of transit transfers only to come home ravenous is pretty high.

Welp, if a stomach growls and nobody is here to hear it then I guess it doesn’t make a sound. I’ve got an hour left before you come to pick me up and we’re basically just two hours away from satisfying my years long pasta craving. Going out to hunt for food now would only spoil my appetite.

“I AM HERE!”

I giggle at the reference and accompanying gif you’ve sent to announce your arrival. I pack up my area and get up, saying ‘bye’ to Jerry on my way out. The second I walk out that door will mark the start of my days off for the week, something I haven’t had in over a month.

“Hi, sweetie!” I chirp as I open the passenger door and bend over to set down my bag.

As I settle in, folding myself into the car, the movements dislodge a deep rumble from my tummy. I freeze, arm still reaching out to close the door. You snicker at me with your left arm perched on your open window, fingers close to your face and highlighting that charming grin of yours that I love so much.

“Oi, close the door and we can get going.”

I do just that. With the door closed, you carefully back out of the parking space and off we go. We don’t get very far. Ah, the joys of rush hour. No use honking, Karen, you’re not ‘stuck in traffic’—you are traffic and there’s no manager for you to speak to here, moron!

I adjust my seat a little, leaning back and allowing myself to relax. I’ve done it. Tomorrow is a day off. And so is the next day. My first true weekend in over three years and my first days off in over three weeks. I can feel the tension ebbing out of me. My shoulders untense, leaving behind a distinct soreness.

My shoulders aren’t the only thing to stop tensing. Apparently, my abdominals decided to join in as well.

Grrr…RRRR…blr.br…rrr.

I blush and sit up, arms wrapping around my stomach as it continues to snarl at me. The growls come with the sharp pains of hunger pangs and I wince, hugging my tummy and pressing my arms against the pain. The grumbles are quickly drowned out by your laughter.

“Man, no wonder you say your coworkers don’t talk to you here. If I heard that coming from a newbie I’d be scared of ‘em too.”

“S-Shut up!” I don’t want to admit that my tummy has been growling very loudly at the office. I’ve skipped more lunches than I’ve eaten in my time here. I lean back in the seat again, arms crossed over my chest as I look away from you, pouting. I’m hungry enough that my stomach really hurts, I’m a panicking newbie at work that doesn’t know the ropes or what’s expected of them, and here you are teasing me.

Your right hand reaches over but instead of stopping on the shift stick it continues further until your palm finds my stomach. The gentle pressure and the warmth of your palm nudging right over where my stomach joins my intestines aids in the relaxation of my tensed muscles and brings forth another loud grumble from my guts. You move your hand slightly, patting and rubbing my flat tummy absentmindedly as you keep the rest of you focused on traffic.

“You’ve lost weight.”

“Y-Yeah…” I don’t want to admit that I’m happy about it. My waistband was loose enough to fall to my thighs before I put my belt on this morning. I love it but you and I both know weight and eating are sore subjects for me. I bite my tongue to keep from asking whether or not you think the weight loss is a good thing or not. Your tone was flat—it was an observation. The fact that I’ve been too busy and stressed out to have time to eat (or digest properly when I do) has led to the rapid shedding of pounds. Not just in the last three or four weeks, but for a long time yet. The reasons for the weight loss aren’t good…but I really do like the results, so I don’t want to hear it from you…good or bad…I don’t want to hear it. Thankfully, you don’t push the issue. Traffic picks up and you remove your hand from my stomach and put it back on the wheel.

My stomach continues to gripe and snarl as we make our way through the city at a crawl. I no longer have work to distract me and your impromptu massage has definitely woken the beast in my guts. ‘Starving’ doesn’t even begin to cover how my stomach feels. I’m starting to feel the other effects of the lack of food too. Light-headedness, feeling cold, and a limpness in my limbs. I want to press my arms into my stomach to quell some of the ache and the noises but I just can’t seem to summon the strength to put enough pressure on it. I wish you had kept your hand on my tummy. As much as your touch intensified the hunger, the pressure of your hand on my stomach was kind of comforting. Ugh…this is all wrong. We’ve been together long enough to know that both of us are into tummy stuff. Any other opportunity we’d be all over each other right now. Your mention of the weight I’ve lost and the silence that has followed since is filling me with anxiety. Under normal circumstances you’d have parked the car somewhere to tease my hungry tummy into oblivion. The fact that we’re currently driving in silence when there’s a golden kink opportunity in the palm of our hands is worrisome to me. Suddenly I don’t feel so good about the weight I’ve lost. I like it. It made me look totally bomb in my new office clothes. Buttons don’t strain even when I bend over or stretch. I spend the rest of the car ride lost in my anxieties. I’m not at an unhealthy weight. Sure, losing it is a testament of the stress I’ve been under lately…but it’s not like I’ve been intentionally skipping meals or fixating on some unachievable body image or something. This isn’t about the weight or anything, it was just a happy consequence of the hectic times I’ve gone through.

We arrive at the restaurant and you get out, expecting me to follow. I’ve managed to work myself into a ball of anxiety in the passenger seat and I don’t move. You pause on the sidewalk when you see me still strapped inside the car. You walk over and open the passenger door.

“Babe?” You see me petrified and chewing on my lip—a tell-tale sign I’m fighting some internal battle. “What’s wrong?” You cup my cheek with your hand, thumb going to pull my lower lip away from my teeth.

“Huh? Wha?” My gaze sharpens as I’m brought back to reality. I didn’t even realize we’ve arrived.

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Uhm…w-well…y-you said…n-nevermind.” I unbuckle the seatbelt and step out of the car. You frown as you think back on what I meant about you having said something.

“Oh, about the weight loss?” I freeze. Bingo. “Babe—I didn’t mean anything by it, honest. Just an observation.” You scratch at the back of your head. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately and gosh knows neither of us has had time to cook or pack lunches. I was just thinking that maybe we should work on that together. Going hungry so often sounds like a dream, kink-wise…but neither of us has had time for that lately. I was going to suggest creating a mealplan or something together, maybe bringing out the slow cooker and freezing some stuff so that we can just grab and go for work going forward.” I stumble over and rest my head on your shoulder, giving a slight nod.

I’m overwhelmed. One thing you said sent me spiraling and you just pulled me out of it.

“Ugh…don’t do that again.”

You smirk. “I won’t. Rather than think yourself into a hole over that, you should really think about what it is you want to eat. We’re ordering off the full menu tonight.”

My eyes widen. The full menu has more selection but it’s way more expensive. Every time we’ve come here in the past, we have always ordered off the specials menu—the discounted, half-size portions that they offer. You smile seeing my stunned reaction.

“Birthdays, holidays—and Sweets, you got a job! You got a job where you don’t have to deal with the dreaded ‘customer’. I’m proud of you, Sweets. This…this is supposed to be a celebration…right? For all the celebrating we haven’t been able to do in…damn, how long has it been—” Your rambling is cut off when I seal your lips with mine. I step back with a grin, watching the dumbfounded, wide-eyed expression pass over to you ‘cuz I’m usually the no-kissy-touchy type.

“Chicken parm with garlic, angel-hair pasta in cream sauce.” I know exactly what I want to order. I’ve known it for over two years. That dish has been taunting me in my dreams for over two years. When I chew on my pillow in my sleep ‘cuz I skipped dinner in lieu of sleep I’m dreaming about that dish. The last time I had it from here was with my parents—long before I met you—for a birthday when I was still in grade school. My stomach growls, punctuating my declaration. The sound shocks you out of your reverie and you slide an arm around my waist, resting your palm against my stomach as you feel all the empty rumbles reverberating beneath your palm.

“Alright. Guess we better walk in before they give away our table…or before you decide it’s quicker just to eat me here in the parking lot.”

Ugh…how am I already full? There’s still so much food on the plate. So, so much. Urrgh…

My stomach silently gripes at me. A sickly, sticky feeling is blooming in my guts. I’m sated but there is still far too much food on my plate. The full menu is more expensive, but they fill the plate up more and often use bigger plates. I’ve forgotten just how big, and my tummy is suffering. Two years is a long time to go without something and I’ve gone without fulfilling my craving for pasta in cream sauce for over two years, maybe even three. That’s a long time…long enough for my stomach to forget how to handle cream sauce, apparently.

I’ve only swallowed about a fifth of my plate and my stomach already feels heavy. The warm bread to start and the bites of chicken parmesan cutlet went down alright. They lined my stomach comfortably and my digestive tract knew exactly how to handle them. The first couple of bites of pasta were cushioned by the bread and chicken. When that lining dissolved away and more of the pasta came into contact with my gastric juices, I realized there was a problem.

My stomach pounced on the bites of bread and the water and cola I chased it down with. I could practically feel my duodenum yawning wide to suck in the masticated bread, my intestines just as hungry for it as I have been all day. When it had to contend with the cream sauce things started to slow down. I can feel a backlog of stuff sitting in my stomach, refusing to be broken down further into a form that will comfortably move onto my intestines. I’m chewing a lot more, my mouth creating more saliva. I feel sick. My stomach doesn’t hurt, yet, but it’s definitely going to as it fights with the creamy, oily pasta.

“Ooh…they’ve got tiramisu here.” You’re eyeing the dessert menu. “It’s your favorite, right?”

“Yeah…but it’s expensive and this is a lotta food.”

“We’re supposed to be celebrating, Sweets. We’ll take whatever you don’t finish to-go. Leftovers are a Godsend, remember? C’mon, let’s live a little.”

I feel a weight settle in my stomach as you flag down a passing wait-staff and order a tiramisu. To share, thank God. My stomach churns in vain, serving only to churn up the mess of creamy pasta and chicken without moving it along further in the digestive process. The sphincter to my duodenum is squeezed tight, refusing passage to the foreign cream and oil mix that it doesn’t seem to recognize.

I managed to finish just under half of my plate before the dessert arrived. I decided to throw in the towel and asked for the rest to be packed up to-go. I put on a smile as we share the dessert and hope it’s not as shaky as my guts feel. The dessert is delicious. Rich, flavorful, and perfect. If only I didn’t have to feel it sickeningly sliding down my esophagus, plopping down heavily into a stomach crammed much too full with indigestible pasta. As my stomach clenches and churns things around the creamy tiramisu is going to get incorporated with the rest of the mess. It’s going to make it thicker and creamier…as if it wasn’t already too thick and too creamy for my duodenum to open up and allow it to wreak havoc in my intestines. As sick as my overstuffed stomach feels, I am a little grateful that my duodenum is being a stubborn prick.

If the creamy mess had passed into my intestines, I’d be doubled over in the bathroom right now, rubbing futilely at my revolting intestines. I know what dairy does to my guts. It doesn’t usually happen, just when I’m stressed or it’s close to that time of the month. It’s nasty and it hurts bad enough that I honestly think hell is enduring those cramping intestines for eternity.

We finish the tiramisu. You offer me the lion’s share, but I refuse and push it back to you with a mention on my stomach being really full. I bring my hands to my stomach and I catch the way your eyes smolder at the sight. Good. Yes. Get us home quickly, darling.

You pay for the meal, and we are off. I clutch my tummy behind my bag as we walk out to the car. Every step sends aftershocks into my guts and it’s really upsetting things in my stomach.

As I settle in the passenger seat, I notice the buttons on my blouse are a little bit strained around my stomach. Horror sets in and I quickly fumble to get the buttons undone. I don’t want to ruin my shirt and the sight of the straining buttons triggers something nasty in my mind. I calm down a little once the buttons are undone and I rub my tummy under the cover of my bag, palms running up and down the dark undershirt that is draped snugly over my full belly.

“It’s still early. Want to really paint the town red and see if we can catch a movie somewhere?”

I swallow back a sickly belch to answer your question, my questing hands churning up the mess in my guts and dislodging air pockets.

“Umph…n-no…let’s go home.”

“Sweets, you okay?” Your voice is laced with concern. Surely you can hear the sickly squelching from my guts. Do I have to spell it out for you?

“Hmm? No,” I blush as I fidget and grapple with whether or not to come clean. I’m shy about this kind of stuff—you’re my partner though and have been for a long time—we’re both into tummy stuff—we haven’t done anything on this front in a very long time. Making my decision, I move my back over to the floor, resting it against my shins and I lean back, allowing you full view of my distended tummy with my blouse undone. “I just…uhm…m-my tummy’s kinda…upset…I just really want to get home.” My stomach burbles sickly throughout our conversation. I have both my hands on the rounded curve of it, rubbing at tender spots with my thumbs.

Your eyes widen at the sight of my belly rounding out my undershirt. You start the car and pull out of our stall. Instead of righting the car onto the road you keep backing into a more secluded spot on the far end of the lot. This one is obscured by an overgrown bush or tree on the passenger side.

I haven’t even bothered with getting my seatbelt on. I was too caught up in my indigestion to think of it despite it normally being a habit. To be fair, I don’t think the seatbelt is a good idea with my tummy so bloated and sore.

“What are you—”

You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn in your seat, giving me your full attention. My seat is still reclined a little further than normal from the drive over. Gently, you put a hand on my shoulder, indicating for me not to sit up. Your eyes briefly meet mine and convey your plan before they go back to fixating on my belly.

I relax my arms, letting them rest at my sides as you slide a hand over the crest of my bloated gut. I bite back a groan as the slight pressure of your hand increases the pressure in my intestines. My stomach is packed full with an indigestible mass of creamy pasta. My duodenum is not allowing any of that entry into my intestines so they sit, bloated with air. The ingredients for a very upset tummy are inside of me…they just need a bit of a push to act as a catalyst.

The push comes in the form of a literal push as you place both hands, one on each side of my tummy, and squeeze. I bite back a mewl of pain until the pressure relents and you are sliding your hands all over my taut tummy.

“Oh my…you really are full.”

“Ugh…haven’t…haven’t eaten so much in a long time.” I groan as your hands churn up the mess in my guts. You know what you’re doing. You felt the firmness in my upper left and you know that everything is sitting heavy in my stomach. You focus your massage on my left, on the area where my duodenum is. You rub and nudge and coax at the area, intent on getting the sphincters to unclench and allow my meal to continue to digest.

“Oh…ah!” I can’t help but cry out a little as I feel my duodenum flood with the lumpy mess. A rumbling, wet burble indicates when the sphincter finally gives up and allows the mess in my stomach passage. My stomach acid wasn’t enough to break down the creamy, oily pasta so it’s entering my intestines relatively undigested.

After ten minutes of you massaging my belly, (in)digestion is in full swing. My intestines are filling up with the ache-inducing mass and the straining pressure that started in my stomach has now spread all over my abdomen. You reach over and pull down my seat belt, buckling it before reaching over to get my seat back into an upright position. My stomach cramps sharply with the change in orientation and my mewl of pain is cut off by a harsh belch. You pat my tummy almost teasingly as you right yourself in your seat and start the car.

I don’t bother to keep track of where we are heading. You could be taking me to the movies, intent on letting my indigestion stew for a couple of hours, or you could be driving us home. I don’t care. I can’t care because every ounce of me is focused on the sharp pains exploding all over my guts as the car hits every bump in the road. Damned city not bothering to spend money to fix the thousands of pot-holes in our roads. My stomach is just as vocal as I am about the indigestion.

You brake sharply, causing the seatbelt to dig into my tummy and tear a sharp gasp of pain from me. I see the road ahead of us…it’s not a road at all but literally the worst road in our city. This stretch of road is famous even outside of our city for just how bumpy and nasty it is. People scrape the undercarriage of their cars if they aren’t careful in avoiding the potholes that litter this thing like craters on the moon. People have lost pieces of their cars and done massive damage to their vehicles by driving down this road. People around here know to avoid this road. The alternative is a ten minute detour to take the safer, newer road and everyone agrees that ten minutes more is better than damaging their car on this road so it is always empty.

“Darling, no—”

You floor it, going down the secluded road at a high speed. We hit every bump and hole in the thing (that won’t damage the car)…you used to come down this thing often and you’re a master at navigating it to avoid damage to the vehicle. Damage to my tummy, on the other hand.

My stomach gives off aborted grumbles and gripes, each one interrupted as we hit another bump in the road. My tummy sloshes and churns. Digestion had stalled without your hands pushing everything along, but this new form of “massage” in the form of a very bumpy ride is kick starting things all over again…in the wrong direction. Stuff swirls inside of my stomach and I swear that it’s filling up rather than emptying. The pressure is building in my stomach. I’d like to believe it’s the air from my intestines, but I’m sure we managed to get most of that out with your massage in the parking lot.

"Ugh…ouch…ah—ow! Ungh…my tummy…urp…my tummy…ulp…” I can’t help it. Belches and protests roll through my throat, unchecked. It’s better than the alternative of something solid, I guess. The road has increased the upset tenfold as I clutch my stomach in both hands. The road has dialed the cramping pains up to eleven and many more aches and tender spots have erupted thanks to the bumpy ride. We’re about halfway through the road when I feel something solid tickling at my esophagus.

“Ugh—Babe—STOP!” I reach up and slap a hand over my mouth, fearing that we’re about to see my dinner come back out.

You slam on the brakes and the pressure from the seatbelt is what does it. My mouth fills with the sour mess of barely-digested pasta.

“Ugh…urk…” I swallow back the bile. It’s nasty, but there’s no receptacle and I don’t want to stink up the car. Luckily, this wasn’t a true vomiting session triggered internally—it was basically regurgitation brought on by external factors—like the seatbelt putting too much pressure on my over-packed tummy. My stomach snarls violently at the return of the sickly concoction.

You watch my struggle, fascinated. Reaching over, you put a hand on my palm, a hand that is quickly slapped away as I give you the fiercest glare I can muster.

“None of that until you get me home, darling.”

You grin, exaggerating taking your foot off of the brake pedal. I realize my poor phrasing a moment too late.

“As you command, Sweets.”

“Darling, no—”

#AT Asks #indigestion #tummy kink #tummy ache

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xpeachesncream · 4 years ago

Text

off the grid | four

summary: it was as simple as swapping places with a stranger from across the world to get away from everything back home. that is - until you meet Jimin. things become more complicated as he unfolds a new chapter in your life that you were initially trying to avoid.

pairing: reader x pjm

genre: post-college au, christmas/holiday au | angst, fluff, smut (to come)

words: 3.0k

chapter warnings: slight cussing, possible inaccurate depiction of transportation, events and whereabouts in South Korea since i only did my research thru the internet, flirty, sweet jiminie so pls tell your heart to be still

> series masterlist <

"Y/N." Jimin whined. "Just stay still for 2 more seconds, please." Jimin laughed at how much you were fidgeting as he rose his polaroid camera. He quickly snapped a photo of you sitting on the ground, in the middle of the white birch tree lane.

"I'm so happy I'm here!" You squealed as you stood up and dusted yourself off. Jimin had taken you to Nami Island for the day, being that you had talked all night about the infamous gingko trees and how beautiful they looked in pictures. Unfortunately, since it was winter, the trees barely had any leaves left, but you didn't mind. You were just happy to be there.

"Okay, come on. There's still so much more to see." He led the way with you following behind him. You continued to walk through the remaining tree lanes before heading over to the gardens and the petit french village.

"Wait, this is so pretty." You gasped, instantly posing in front of one of the colorful replica houses. Jimin snapped his picture before you decided to capture some footage for your instagram and snapchat stories.

"I'm really glad you're enjoying this."

"I hope you are too."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you've probably been here thousands of times. You must be tired of it." He shook his head and pouted.

"Nope." He chuckled. "Absolutely not."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Huh." You scratched your head. "Like Disneyland is a huge staple of LA but I'm tired of it." He shrugged.

"I don't know, this is probably a little different. We're not really waiting hours in line for rides in a super packed amusement park. Plus, waiting under the scorching hot sun? No thanks."

"Very true."

"I just enjoy being out and exploring, even if that means doing it over and over again with you. I don't mind." You smiled. The feeling you felt being around Jimin, the butterflies - you couldn't explain. It felt new, yet unreal, almost like you had to pinch yourself to remember this was actually reality. You were living it right at this moment. How could he exist as the pure, wholesome angel he was? You had no idea, and it caught you off guard every single time.

But you were scared, because when this is all over, what happens? You and Jimin go back to living life before you even knew the other existed? That'll suck.

Fuck that. You weren't trying to think of that now.

"I really do appreciate you taking me around."

"It's nothing." He flashes his pearly whites. Majority of the time, you're running to pose for the camera, already feeling completely comfortable in Jimin's presence. He took you through the village and through the gardens, where you strolled slowly side by side. His arm brushed against yours a couple of times, and you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to experience a super affectionate and flirty Jimin. The thought kind of intrigued you. What if you were reading too deeply into this? What if he was just really nice and didn't have feelings for you like that? What if—"Y/N." You heard him call your name as he looked down at you and laughed. "Did I lose you?"

"No, sorry, I'm just taking it all in." You chuckled.

"No, that's okay. I was just saying that Jungkook fell into the bushes over there." He pointed at the shrubs.

"Wait, what?"

"He tripped and couldn't catch himself in time so he fell in there. It left an indent." He laughed.

"Are you guys always chaotic when you go out?"

"What, us? Never." He smirked. "Seriously, we aren't. But we do have our moments." His smile instantly fell when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. "Speaking of—" He quickly flashes you his phone, showing Taehyung's name on the screen. "Mind if I pick this up really quickly? Just in case the boys need me to bail them out."

"No, go for it." He smiled toothlessly before picking up the call. You both continued to walk slowly while he spoke to Taehyung on the phone. He began to laugh, his cheeks tinted with a rosy color. He rose his voice and groaned playfully, which was followed by a ton of 'okays,' 'shut ups,' and 'ughs' before finally telling Taehyung he had to go and that he would see them later. "Is everything okay?" You giggled.

"Yeah, they're just being a pain in the ass." He cleared his throat. Little did you know that Taehyung and Seokjin just spent the last couple of minutes teasing the hell out of him about you. "So, the guys wanna head to the ice skating rink tonight and told me to bring you along. Only if you wanna go, of course. No pressure."

"That sounds fun! I'll come. But, I have to warn you. I'm not very good at ice skating."

"It's okay, I'll be there. Taehyung isn't either, nor is Hoseok. I've had to hold them a couple of times." You laughed. "I'd definitely rather hold onto you than them." He quickly looked at you, realizing he let that slip out without catching himself. He felt his cheeks get hot due to the embarrassment that overcame him, but instantly felt relieved when he saw you smile and laugh at the statement. He definitely meant it though.

"I'll be sure to not be a piece of work tonight."

"Ah, you'll be okay. I believe." The rest of the time at Nami Island was spent walking through the the rest of the garden and going through the Gapyeong Rail Park on a two-seater bike. The view was spectacular and you honestly couldn't picture doing this with anybody else. At the end of the ride, Jimin took you to get some hotteok, which was just the snack you needed after the activities and walking you had done on the island. Before leaving, you saw a musician singing at the entrance while playing his guitar. There was quite a crowd, so you gently pulled Jimin to your side to stand and watch with you.

"He's really good." You clapped quietly to yourself as he wrapped up a song. "You should go sing up there!"

"I don't sing, though."

"Really? So all those times I've heard you, you weren't singing?"

"Mmm, nope. Don't know what you're talking about."

"Please?" You pouted and clasped your hands together. Your pouty face was becoming a huge weakness for him, making it incredibly difficult to say no to you.

"Y/N, I-I don't even know if he's--" You rose your hand and dragged him to the front. You signaled to the musician that Jimin wanted to sing. Jimin politely asked if he could sing a song, which the musician happily stood aside to let him take over the mic. Jimin showed him a song on his phone and asked if he could somehow strum along to the tune. He began to sing We Don't Talk Anymore - Charlie Puth x Selena Gomez, which had your heart skipping a few beats. His voice was the most angelic thing you have ever heard and he looked so fucking good singing. At the end, he smiled sheepishly and thanked the crowd and musician before waddling back over to you. "I hope you feel special."

"Me?!"

"I obviously don't like to put my singing voice out there, but I knew it'd make you happy."

"Why not? You have such an amazing voice."

"I don't know, it's just a fun past time for me. Nothing serious."

"Well, I really like it and I wanna hear more of it." He chuckled and nodded.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Jimin." You whined.

"No promises, princess." He shrugged. "Race you to the car?" He flipped the switch and began to run off before you could even respond. You ran as much as you could because running definitely wasn't your thing, but eventually you made your way to the car, where Jimin was catching his breath.

"See, look at you. All tired from that unnecessary effort." You laugh.

"Good race." He high-fived you before unlocking the car. The ride back would be about 2 hours, so you both would be making it just in time to meet his friends at the ice skating rink. You had fallen asleep without realizing, with Jimin smiling and silently laughing to himself as he glanced over. He made sure the car was warm and comfortable enough for you, before taking one more glance at you. He didn't know how someone could be so effortlessly cute, and it's crazy, because before you came around, he was fine minding his own business. He wasn't looking for love. His last relationship ended a year ago, and he had just been taking it day by day with the boys. No negativity on his end, no bad blood, nothing.

Then, you came along. You came along and changed things for him. Quick, too. He couldn't even explain it, even if he tried. He just knew he had become undeniably attracted to everything about you and he didn't give a fuck about anyone or anything else.

"Y/N." Jimin gave you a gentle squeeze on the arm. "We're here. Are you still okay to ice skate?" You opened your eyes and fixed your position in the passenger's seat, catching his concerned facial expression.

"Yeah, I'm okay." You gave off a good stretch just to fully wake yourself up. "Shoot, I didn't even realize I fell asleep."

"That race to the car really did it to you." He laughed, making you playfully hit him on the arm. Getting out of the car, you both had to walk quite a bit before finally seeing the ice rink in view. The first person you spotted was Taehyung, but he was speaking to another tall gentleman, who was dressed in a plain white tee, light denim jacket, black distressed jeans and black chucks. He had on a black hat, where the brim covered his face pretty well.

"Jimin-ah!" The unknown gentleman yelled as he held his arms out, in which Jimin openly accepted. They hugged each other and patted each other on the back before Jimin turned to playfully smack Taehyung on the arm as his greeting.

"Hey Y/N! I'm glad you came along." Taehyung engulfed you into a hug.

"I can't miss out on ice skating!" You chuckled.

"Y/N, this is my Jin-hyung." Jimin stepped aside as Jin also held his arms out to hug you.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N." He caressed your back as you pulled away. "I'm surprised you're not sick of him yet." He tilted his head towards Jimin.

"Eh, he's not too bad." You joked, watching Jimin shake his head and bite onto his bottom lip. "Where's Jungkook?"

"Buying a snack with Hoseok." Jin replied as he dug his hands into his pockets. "Which reminds me, did you want to eat now or later Y/N?"

"It doesn't matter to me, whenever you guys want."

"Are you okay to hold off until after ice-skating?"

"Yeah!"

"Hey, why don't you ask us?" Taehyung nudged him, making him shake his head.

"It's simple. You guys don't matter. Only Y/N does." Jin winked at you.

"Stop flirting, hyung. It'll make Jimin ma--" Jimin grabbed Tae by the shirt and pushed him against the wall, pretending to beat him up. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from laughing and smiling too big, but you heard that for damn sure. As the two stopped playing and made their way back to you and Jin, Jungkook finally made it back with another gentleman dressed in a black beanie, black and white track pants, a black fitted hoodie, brown coat and sneakers. How in the hell were Jimin and all his friends so damn good looking?! You couldn't understand it for the life of you, but you sure as hell weren't complaining.

"Y/N! Jimin-ssi!" Jungkook yelled as he waddled over to you and hugged you before making his way to Jimin.

"He always calls me like that." Jimin murmured as Jungkook swung him around. Jin laughed and pointed at how ridiculous the two looked on the side.

"Y/N, Hoseok." Jin took the initiative to introduce you while Jungkook and Jimin continued to play around.

"Hi!" Hoseok waved and smiled sweetly. "You can call me Hobi."

"Nice to meet you." You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

"How was Nami Island?" Hoseok walked by your side as you followed the group to get your tickets and skate rentals.

"Fun! It's beautiful."

"Isn't it? I'm glad you were able to go with Jimin. It's definitely a must."

"Yeah, he's been taking me to a couple of places already. I appreciate him enough." Hoseok smirked.

"You two are cute."

"Need any help?" Before you could respond, Jimin interrupted as he walked over, already on his skates. You bent over to slip the skates on, doing your best to tighten the laces as you tied them.

"I think so." You tried to get up, but instantly stumbled on your own two feet, causing Jimin to hold your wrist.

"Woah there." He laughed and held your hands to help stabilize you as you tried to stand. "Good?"

"Yeah, I got this, no biggie." You chuckled nervously. You held onto his arm as he walked you into the rink, where Taehyung slowly took his time to try and get used to the feeling and Jungkook was already skating freely. Jin was accompanying Hobi on the side, giving him words of encouragement to get him to let go of the wall.

"Okay, take it slow and hold onto the wall until you get a feel for it." Jimin stayed by your side as you tried to get your two feet to work properly in the skates. It didn't feel too bad, but every time you got a little too excited, you squealed and clung onto the wall due to your skates betraying you. Jimin laughed and held out his hand. "Come on, you can do this Y/N." You grabbed his hand, your legs stiffening without the support of the wall.

"Ah, Jimin!" You yelped. "Please don't go too fast!"

"We're going a whopping 3 miles per hour. Maybe even less."

"I am not that slow!"

"Highly debatable." He laughed. "But it's cool because you'll become a pro in no time." He reassured you and pointed. "See! We're getting faster. Progress." You started to get the hang of it, releasing the stiffness as Jimin continued to coach you through alternating the movement with your legs. Sooner or later, you were feeling a little more comfortable as you held onto his hand and kept a solid, slow and steady pace.

"I got it!"

"Wanna try to go alone?" At this moment, Jungkook appeared in front of you, holding his hands out, signaling for you try and skate to him alone. He nodded and reassured you, watching as Jimin slowly released his hand from yours. You stood there in a slightly bent position, afraid to move an inch.

"Y/N, I promise you'll be okay! Come to me." Jungkook said. You practiced the movements you had just done not too long ago and quickly grabbed his hands as soon as it was in reach. Because of the abrupt movement to rush over, Kook had to hold onto you to make sure you wouldn't fall, making Jimin laugh.

"So cute." Jimin said as he bent over to grab his stomach while laughing. "Y/N you don't need to rush, we aren't going to leave you."

"I'm just scared!"

"You're doing great! Look at Hobi, he hasn't even left the wall. The kids are skating around him." You laughed as you began to slowly skate on your own, eyeing Hoseok and how frightened he looked while hugging the sides and damn near doing the splits trying to move from point A to point B. Jin had obviously given up on reassuring the guy, leaving him to do whatever he pleased to do at this point. You had gained more confidence as time went on, skating on your own with Jimin popping by your side every now and then. It made the hour and a half go by rather quickly, but you all were starving by the end of it.

The group decided to walk down the street to a nearby boba cafe that apparently also had really good rice bowls and snacks. The walk wasn't too bad, but your jacket wasn't thick enough to mask the cold. Jimin had taken notice of you shivering, peeling off his coat without hesitation to put on your shoulders.

"Here." He says as you grab the coat to wrap it around you tightly.

"Aren't you cold?"

"I have this cardigan on, I'll survive. I'm used to this." He smiled down at you. Entering the cafe, you all had ordered your food and drinks and sat on the barstools near the wall. Jimin stood in front of you, while Jungkook and Hoseok sat on the remaining stools next to you. Jin and Taehyung pulled up some chairs from a nearby table, and you all had faced each other to talk about the day and everyone's whereabouts. Not to mention, there was a whole Hoseok roasting session due to his performance on the ice today. Jin had discussed his plans for his late birthday celebration coming up and demanded ever so politely that you grace him with your presence.

Getting home later that night, you felt exhausted to the bone. But, you had a ton of fun and really enjoyed spending more time with Jimin and his friends. The loft was quiet, only bringing in sounds from the cars out on the nearby streets. You revisited your photos and videos from the day, smiling to yourself at the memories you were able to capture, especially of Jimin enjoying himself and having fun with you.

[Y/N] 11:38: I know I say this time and time again, but I really do appreciate everything you've been doing for me, Jimin.

[Jimin] 11:39pm: You're welcome, cutiepie. Glad you're enjoying yourself. Get a good night's rest for me. I'll see you tomorrow.

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Alexa, play: Good Company x Mahalia

#bts #bts fanfiction #jimin fanfiction #jimin #park jimin #pjm series #pjm x reader #off the grid #otg #writing #jimin x reader #jimin fluff

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alesreadings · 3 years ago

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Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo.

5 stars.

“No mourners. No funerals. Among them, it passed for 'good luck.” If we added as soundtrack Gimme Gimme by ABBA to this book, it would fit. Can y'all imagine Inej, Jesper and Wylan stealing the tank and running away with that song on the background? Masterpiece. *chef kiss* Six of Crows is by far one of my favorite books. I read it two years ago, after the Grisha trilogy and I have to admit that Leigh Bardugo has improved tremendously as a writer. I consider this a much better story than her main trilogy. The plot, the characters, the writing, the pacing, the descriptions, the worldbuilding and the breadth she has given it is perfection. I'll go in order to describe how much I loved this book. In Six of Crows, we follow six misfits who have a common goal: thirty million kruge. They have to go to the Ice Court in Fjerda, the "safest" prison in the world and rescue, or kidnap, Bo Yul-Bayur, a Grisha who accidentally created a drug called jurda parem, which sharpens and increases the Grisha's powers, taking them to high and unknown levels. We have a sharpshooter who can't stay away from a good bet. A wayward son who was kicked out of his father's house and is underestimated, but is very smart. An ex-convict accused slaver, the world's most handsome, lovable, and idiotic fjerdan brute, out for revenge. A lost Grisha who makes a living healing people and trying to get the fjerdan out of the jail he put him in. A suli girl who is basically a ghost, the Wrath, a spy who defies the laws of gravity and is a sweetheart of a person. And finally, our favorite swindler: the Bastard of the Barrel, someone whom legends have turned him into a monster, someone without scruples, without morals or conscience. Will they be able to unite to achieve their goal and come out alive? Or will they end up killing each other before they reach Fjerda? Plot. As I said, compared to the Grisha trilogy, Six of Crows is perfection at its finest. It's not the first heist book (I've only read this one, sorry), but it grabs you from the first moment. I love that Leigh has taken up the Grisha again - I must confess that I love the Grisha order and how she has placed them - and that in this book she continues to include them as a fundamental part of the plot. Just like the first time, Six of Crows grabbed me, although I never understood why Joost and his chapter, I did feel bad that he was all dead. Each chapter had me hooked and begging for more. Even the very end left me screaming and crying like crazy. I have to repeat it: Miss Bardugo, this is a masterpiece, an exquisite and divine piece. Every plot twist had me in suspense or saying "I need more". It's a more radical departure from what we were given in the Grisha trilogy. They steal, explote things, destroy places and make great entrances, lol

Characters. Kaz "killer cane" Brekker. I want to protect him, and at the same time beat him with his cane. His story is touching at a certain point and makes you understand how or why Kaz became who he is now, why he is such a bastard, arrogant and fearless at the same time. There is never a challenge hard enough for him as he dares to prove otherwise. He shows us that he is one step ahead of the rest, and if he runs out of tricks, our demjin manages and invents more. Dirty Hands is a magician, a monster thirsty for revenge for the death of his brother, Jordie, thanks to a scam Pekka Rollins pulled on them when they were just kids. Kaz is full of secrets, tricks, schemes and more that it's scary to know what he's thinking. He's a bastard forged in the very cauldrons of hell, a seventeen-year-old kid who worked his way up through tooth and nail, using his brother's corpse to swim and get to where he is. Inej "The Wrath" Ghafa. Inej was captured and sold as a slave to the cursed Tante Heleen, who owns a brothel. Inej has the ability to go unnoticed, so much so that Kaz Brekker did not feel her approaching him. In any case, Kaz pays Inej's contract with Heleen and joins the Undesirables, becomes Kaz's right-hand man and his spy, or spider. Kaz and Inej are obviously in love, but they don't confess it to each other because it's complicated, and I don't know if I want to yell at them to kiss, or punch them to make them realize it. Inej deserves the whole world. She can stab me and I would appreciate it. Nina "my queen" Zenik. Nina had joined the Ravkan Second Army and was captured before the civil war in Ravka, she was imprisoned by the drüskelle to be taken to Fjerda to be tried for her crimes, which are basically: having powers. She is a heartrender, order of the Corporalki. She met my other goddess Zoya Nazyalenski. Well, anyway, Matthias was one of the drüskelle who imprisoned her and when their ship sinks, she saves him. Nina and Matthias wander around in each other's company and in the end, she brands him a slaver and Matthias ends up imprisoned in Kerch. One can feel the tension between them: enemies to lovers vibes, yup, I live for that. In the end, to save them all, Nina decides to consume jurda parem and knows that she will experience drastic changes in terms of her power and herself. Matthias "the tulip" Helvar. He is my beautiful baby, the most adorable bear and the cutest brute of all. You don't know how much I have laughed for him, he is so innocent in many things that I want to protect him from everything and everyone. Yes, I have a thing for blond brutes (Nikolai Lantsov, I'm talking to you too). From the first time I read Six of Crows, I instantly fell in love with Matthias and will be in love with him until I die. Amen. I already know what happens to him in Crooked Kingdom and I don't want it to come to that. Seriously he deserves all the love in the world, and even though I wanted to punch him many times, I also wanted to hug him and tell him that everything is going to be okay. In the end, Matthias renounces the beliefs that were instilled in him, accepts reality and becomes a Dreg, fighting against his own people. Jesper "crazy hands" Fahey. Jes is a Zemeni boy who came to Kerch to study at the university, but by chance, he ends up becoming a gambler. Jesper is a Grisha, a Materialki, and only Kaz and Inej know his secret. He is a fairly agile sharpshooter and a gambler who can't resist a good game without knowing he will lose. In a slip of the tongue, Jesper confesses what they are about to do and as they are about to leave Ketterdam, they are attacked. Jesper is a baby and I must protect him from all evil and danger. Plus, I really ship him with Wylan. Wylan "little merc" Van Eck. Another baby. I want to protect him from everything and everyone, especially his bastard of a father. Ugh, I hate him. When Jan Van Eck proves to be the jerk he is in front of his son, I wanted to cry with rage because my little baby boy doesn't deserve any of that. Wylan is smarter than others give him credit for, and

even Kaz thinks that just because he can't read doesn't stop him from doing amazing things; he doesn't put it that way, but I do. Worldbuilding. We find ourselves in a totally different country from Ravka. In the Grisha trilogy, we focused more on a description of Ravka, but now, we have two different places: Kerch and Fjerda. Although Shu Han, Novyi Zem, and Ravka are mentioned again, Ketterdam is a fairly fixed point. The description of the places is incredible: you seriously imagine it as a Dutch city in the Victorian era. Tell me I wasn't the only one. I don't know what else can I say about these assholes that I haven't already said. They're so chaotic, funny and you attach to them really quick, even if you want to kick them. I can't really believe they're 16-17-18 years old: they feel really older and "mature", but once you know them, you realize they're a bunch of kids trying to make a heist. Anyways, I loved Six of Crows with my entire life. I'm a sucker for this masterpiece and I'm really looking forward Crooked Kingdom, but knowing what happens to my tullip makes me wanna cry, scream and destroy the world. We stan Kanej, Helnik and Wesper, bitches. I love my Dregs. :')

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tomb-bloom-noctem · 4 years ago

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Were there any episodes in season 3 where you felt they could've been written better? I'm only asking because I had some ideas I wanted to share with people about fixing them since, to me, the season started becoming a mess around The Phantom and the Sorceress. And the episodes don't need to be outright bad, there could just be parts in it you didn't like.

Oof. I've been a bit loud and obnoxious about certain episodes for sure 😅 I'll try to briefly sum up a few.

Also I'm just gonna say, some of these are just I don't like what they did rather than any huge fundamental problems like the finale.

Also disclaimer. This is not an attack on anyone who likes these episodes! Nobody has to agree with me! If you like these episodes cool! Glad you got something out of it! This is just Tombs being a nit pick loud mouth.

Rumble for Ragnarok

I can't complain too much about this one as it was still entertaining. Norse is part of my heritage and I'm a fan of the mythology which was on full display this episode. My only real issue this episode is that the message gets a little lost at least on me. And then two is I think out of all the episodes this one is the one that could absolutely be thrown out without losing anything really important. Trade this episode for something different. Something more important.

The Forbidden Fountain of the Forever Glades

Scrooge's behavior and leaving Webby in the jungle was painful to watch. (Much as I don't like the finale twist, the twist actually makes this episode worse.) [Also so much for Goldie's "fresh start" when in Split Sword of Swanstitine later showed she once again attempted to double cross Scrooge. Yeah. Fresh start. Totallyyyy.] Goldie is a fun character and I can't hate her too much. The episode has its merits and definitely still think this episode should be around but Scrooge's behavior here really kills me. Thankfully at the end he does better but ugh. It's low on the overall ranking for me based on how he behaves and treats Webby.

New Gods on the Block

I actually really love this episode but Storkules was pissing me off too much 😂 Nit pick for sure. I love this himbo but got dangit he was making me so mad. I get it was kinda important for the overall plot but come on we got so little Donsy content that it was frustrating that he was so intrusive.

The First Adventure

Nit picking again. I think it's kinda random how in the span of a few hours a hard ass like Scrooge went from "my obnoxious niece and nephew" to "my heirs and beloved family." I guess it's possible but not a fan of that kind of writing. For me it would make more sense that they had several adventures or at least more time with them before they became "his heirs" in his eyes. Extreme nit picking on my part though, the episode isn't bad at all really. Also no Hortense and Quackmore. Yes they were named. (Or she was) No we never got to see them. Rude! This was actually a really good episode though overall again I just have some minor nit picks.

The Fight for Castle McDuck

Okay this one is also kind of a nit pick but it's more like based on the episode's timing. I think it is absolutely ridiculous that Webby "Knower of all things Clan McDuck" has no idea that a family of Scots fights a lot. I can somewhat forgive it though as she's young and isn't as familiar with this side of the family in the flesh. But it's so weird how this late into the show we're seeing this?? I think I would have liked this episode more if it had popped up earlier into season 3 rather than so late? It just was a kinda weird episode and not the most enjoyable but the timing I think made it worse. Also the no mention of Hortense again. Referring to Matilda as the youngest when that's supposed to be Hortense? It's really not the worst episode. It just feels a bit off to me and again to me mostly the timing of it. Could have been better, could have been worse.

How Santa Stole Christmas

THROW THIS EPISODE INTO THE FUCKING GARBAGE. HATE HATE HATE IT. THIS ONE ACTUALLY MAKES ME RAGE.

This episode is actually worse for me than the finale. Literally I consider this episode the worst in the series. I just hate it!!!

I hate that this episode was about Scrooge and Santa. I really don't give a fuck why Scrooge hates Santa and this story in no way compelled me. (Also why was Scrooge and Santa's dialog weirdly shippy??? Thanks to this episode got another huge NOtp, "scranta" is gross, sorry, hate it. Absolutely cannot board that ship at all, I have the tag blocked.) I see absolutely no reason why this was the story we got when there was literally an option to follow up The Last Christmas now that Della was finally home????? MISSED OPPORTUNITY!!! I hate the weird crazy ass capitalist message going on throughout the episode, I get Scrooge is a capitalist himself but he didn't change from this episode? He walked away from Jennifer's obvious poverty life and went "ah as long as she's happy" instead of I don't know, maybe a message about helping the less fortunate??

Look maybe I'm just bitter from my own life. I've lived in extreme poverty my whole life. My parents home has literally looked so much liked the ruined place Jennifer lived in during the episode. And I live in Alaska so I KNOW COLD. I know how it feels to go cold for days on end, no food, no water, nothing. Extreme poverty. Scrooge could have done something. He wasn't like Donald who doesn't have much either. He's a freaking billionaire. He could have helped. And instead the message he walked away with is "if you're happy life is fine" or something. Whatever the message that was supposed to be from this episode is completely lost on me because all I see is a miserable rich old miser who hates letting kids have fun and won't help someone in need. Absolute garbage episode. I really wish they had instead just followed up on The Last Christmas. Or had some kind of family centric episode at least! I seriously fucking hate this episode so much. I would legit erase this episode if I could it is the WORST.

The Lost Cargo of Kit Cloudkicker

Nit pick again. Didn't love what they did with Kit. Okay I get the idea he grew up to idolize Baloo so he turned out more like him. It...wasn't great. Didn't like that much at all. Felt like they just tried to shove Kit into a DT87/DWD Launchpad mold. I didn't love that Baloo and Kit's relationship was mentioned weirdly casually? Like Kit called himself Baloo's sidekick??? Except in Talespin Kit calls him Papa Bear??? Also great, got another tag to block from this episode, the delkit ship. Not a fan, thanks.

Kinda weird for me with this episode I didn't really catch the meaning of it. To me it felt like the message was "defy expectations...by meeting them." It didn't really click and I kinda hated it for that plus the weird characterization of Kit. Actually I was on Twitter and someone was complaining about this episode and I responded in agreement and then FRANK REPLIED TO US 😅😅😅. Frank explained that the point was more of "if you're good at something, don't give it up" rather than "you can do anything you set your mind to" type message that appears a lot in kids media. (Also Frank please don't look at me when I'm criticizing the show 😂😂😂😂😭 I promise overall I do love it I'm just a loud mouth when I don't like something some times 😅)

After Frank explained that it did click a little better and I can see the message a bit more clearly. But I'm still not really in love with this episode like I wanted to be. I freaking love Talespin so that was a bummer. But as I've said a dozen times. I'm mostly nit picking my personal opinion.

The Life and Crimes of Scrooge McDuck

Another one I wanted to like more than I actually did. And mostly this boils down to Louie having to apologize to Doofus when Doofus is the one who's like some wild sociopath or something. I get it Louie hasn't been completely innocent towards Doofus. He did try to use him and con him but Doofus flat out has tried to hold him captive and torture and even kill him. Doofus' sins outweigh Louie's. Louie having to apologize to prevent the tension and all just...feels like victim blaming? This one is harder for me to describe why I don't like it and I think others have explained it better than me. I think it could have been better if Louie AND Doofus both apologized and agreed to start over and let what happened between them before be water under the bridge. At least this way they're equals? Maybe it wouldn't have been the best fix but I feel it would have been better than Canon. This one I don't want to call a nit pick. This one feels like there is something fundamentally wrong with it but I struggle to explain. Mostly other than that though I think the episode was fine. A little weird that the karma court scale needed to be told the villains hearts rather than able to just know them (mostly looking at the Ma Beagle one here) but that part is more nit pick.

And finally...The Last Adventure

I have things I love about it. The individual character moments. The references and call backs. The music. This finale was clearly made with love and care.

But that damn Webby clone daughter thing twist changes things. I know some people say it doesn't but to me it does! I feel it messed with the family dynamic and the characters in a needless way. I feel it didn't add anything to but rather did take away from. I don't wanna say too much on it as there's already been so much talk on it so in keeping it brief- not a fan, didn't like, why the hell, no.

The thing with Bradford kinda threw me off too. His logic and insistence on not being a villain made him so interesting. He was truly a villain to rival Scrooge. Then in my opinion he was pushed into a weird middle ground. He didn't feel like he completely abandoned what he previously stood on but also didn't go full villain either? I get a villain like Bradford isn't easy. The writers have to truly bring their all for someone like him. But Bradford suddenly getting armor and the Split Sword and becoming a battling giant was kinda ????? inducing. Threw me for a bit of a loop. I probably need to watch this episode a few more times before I finally settle on where I sit with the Bradford thing but at least at this time I just feel kinda mixed on it. Maybe I missed something there.

Other nit picks from the finale. Donald's writing was a little weird, he sounded like he was going on vacation but then Della said he was moving out and Donald talked like "well you have the boys and Uncle Scrooge..." it just really sounds like he's leaving the family?????????? Especially at a time like this? Rude! I mean yes somebody please get this man a vacation but the writing here left me kinda confused and there is no reason Donald would ever just leave and act like "oh well their mom is back so my work here is done." Nope. DADnald for life.

Lena and Webby never getting shown to have made up after their fight. I imagine the giving June and May the friendship bracelets kinda implies it but come on. Even just a hug would have been good. Also...why are they giving up their friendship bracelets??? Confused, not a fan.

And also...in addition to the Clone twist, I really don't love that April, May, and June were all clones instead of Daisy's nieces. I really wanted to get to see them in the show and now I just feel like thanks I hate it! I admire the guts to make a twist like this and all but I really hate it.

Overall please let me say I LOVE Ducktales. The show as a whole to me is a huge important thing I love. This isn't an attack on anyone who likes these episodes. I am just once again being loud and obnoxious with my own opinions and nit picks and things I just would have liked to see or not see.

no idea if any of this rambling answers your question Anon but here you go. Hope it works.

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #ducktales spoilers #season 3 #season finale #ducktales finale #ducktales season 3 #tomb talks #personal opinion #series finale #not attacking anyone #just speaking my mind #long post #ducktales criticism #ducktales critical

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echo-three-one · 4 years ago

Text

Whatever It Takes : RELOADED

Augustus' burner phone is the key to locating Nero but the team discovers that it's more than just Nero that's behind all of this. Will the former 141 soldiers find out what Nero is up to? Will Alex rescue Samantha?

Table of Contents

Hello! Ray's Back in his game!

Chapter 16 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

My Damsel in Distress

"Alex"

Task Force 141 - Disbanded

On a plane off to somewhere

General Shepherd.

The name sent Alex's blood boiling from rage. He couldn't believe that a high ranking official would actually betray them and could still run away from it.

It's no secret that he wanted 141 out of the Nero scene. But why? He knew full well that Samantha doesn't have access over the address but he still took her? And he also knew that this little team won't walk away without her safe. Alex wondered what's running inside the snow-caterpillar-stache's little brain. He couldn't even say his name now.

He clenched his fists, feeling the thick leather gloves he wore for battle. It was a devastating day for him. They just bonded for a few moments here and there and now she’s already taken away from him. He couldn’t keep count how many times it happened. It was frustrating.

“So, which safehouse are you bringing us today?” Alex joked with his former CO. Jack looked serious as always, he never gets these kinds of humor.

“Same one in Brazil. It’s the most forgotten and spacious. No one’s going to come looking for us in South America.” Jack replied, looking worriedly at Alex.

“I know when you’re preoccupied Alex. What happened afterward?” Jack turned to him and Alex knew he had to open up. He deserved the truth anyway.

“I uh… I fell for her, Jack. I know I told you that I won’t but it just hit me.”

“Like a fucking brick…” Jack interrupted and chuckled.

“All I can say is that you’ve done a better job than I did when I fell in love. I could still see your determination towards your work. Or maybe because she’s still involved in all of this.” he added, causing Alex to relax his tensed shoulders.

“It’s good to have you back, old man.” Alex shook his hand and smiled. With all the problems around him, it was good to have someone close to him to talk to. He was glad Nero didn't kill him back in the Gulag.

“Yeah. Me too, and it looks like you’ve got yourselves a determined bunch. Especially that guy.” he noted, pointing to Soap who was sitting with France. Alex remembered how the two of them met at the Gulag and in that short span of time Jack was able to read the whole guy’s personality.

“Soap? Yeah, he’s an achiever. Heard he’s top of every obstacle course back at the base.” Alex mused, looking at the two. They were sitting together quietly but Alex felt jealous. He could've been doing that with Samantha right now. Now that she's ready to hear the truth about them.

"Yeah. He's got some fight in him. I'm sure we'll defeat Nero even with this little band right here. And I'll do my best to be of assistance to you." he patted Alex's shoulder and went back to check on Nikolai.

Safehouse 110197, Brazil

Alex remembered that this place was compromised, but then again that was the CIA mole's henchmen that found them here and they're no longer affiliated with Nero. Or he picked this place because no one would think of going back here after being compromised. The Reverse Psychology card. Either way, Alex didn't mind.

As the team slowly scattered around the house and prepared everything, Alex took note of some changes since his last visit. More beds were added and supplies got restocked. Even the bullet cache looked reloaded.

The team loaded off everything they salvaged, or stole, from the 141 and set it all up. Ghost prioritized the tech stuff while the women fixed the bedrooms. Alex offered help but was denied by Gary saying "Your face still hurts so don't over exert yourself, we can do this on our own."

So Alex plopped by the central couch as Ghost untangle the wires, putting them on their respective slots.

"You holding up okay?" The masked man asked as soon as Alex released a deep sigh.

"I'm worried about Samantha." he replied, resting his hands on the back of his head.

"She doesn't have the address, what does Shepherd want from her?" Alex added, his tone raised like a kid complaining.

"I have no idea. But I do have something else. Information on the surprise attack at the 141." Ghost said, as Jack and Price moved toward them and discussed the contents of Augustus' phone.

"That bastard gave away our location." Price cursed.

"So his plan to disband us would be successful." Alex added and Ghost nodded.

"Why get Samantha though? He knows we'll be coming for him." Ghost added and the rest of them speculated their theories.

"Augustus failed to get her so Shepherd did it for him? For what?" Jack noted, reviewing their whole mission for reference.

"Something bigger, I presume." Price spat and everyone fell silent. The rest of the team except for Gary and Maxine gathered for a short briefing. Everyone gave away their take as to why, some of them made sense while some reasons don't add up. And thinking about it was only making them more frustrated.

Everyone looked serious until they inhaled the fresh aroma of dinner from the kitchen. Alex turned and saw Gary and Maxine, smiling while serving up the team's dinner. He could sense something him and Samantha once shared in this place and it looked like the Safe house did it's charm once again.

"Now that's bloody good cookin'" Price announced and everyone laughed. He wasn't the kind of person to say those kinds of things, but he did, and it was all they needed to ease the tension of not knowing what's next.

They never gathered like this before, together, happy and noisy. The two oldies sat on the opposite edges of the round table while Soap, France, Gary and Maxine sat beside each other on the left. Simon and Alex sat on the other side, an empty chair resided beside them.

"Don't worry lad, we'll rescue her." Price muttered and Jack nodded. Alex smiled as they started to eat some food.

"Hold on a minute!" Soap exclaimed causing everyone to halt.

"Thank you Lord for thy blessings which we are about to receive. Amen." he muttered while everyone looked at him.

"Amen!" they all said in unison and wolfed down Gary and Maxine's delicious meal.

"This tastes so good! Just like Mom used to make!" Francine chewed happily. Maxine stared at her supposed to be sister and smiled.

"It does?" she breathed.

"Mmhmm.. I was always jealous that you two were so close together in the kitchen, everything I touch turns to a culinary mess." she frowned and made everyone else laugh. Soap stared at her in amazement.

"You and me both, France." Jack agreed. The gang bonded throughout dinner and enjoyed the company. Alex volunteered on the dishes and France offered to help.

"You think she's going to be fine?" Maxine asked as she checked the contents of the fridge, looking at Alex who looked very focused on the dishes he's cleaning.

"She's been kidnapped a lot of times now. I think she's used to it." Alex attempted to joke, but the tone of his voice was far from kidding.

"Aye, That lassie's a tough one. Don't worry Alex. We'll get her, Shepherd's bound to make a mistake anytime soon." Soap commented from behind him while leaning on the kitchen island.

"I told you I can handle assisting Alex on my own!" France giggled as she wiped the plates dry.

"Aye! I know! Can't a man just enjoy some time with his girlfriend?" he raised his hand mocking surrender. France turned back and crossed her arms.

"Ahem. Girl space Friend. There's a space in between." she scolded and MacTavish just chuckled.

"Whatever you say, Babe." he joked once again as he stepped out of the kitchen.

"Ugh. That guy's so full of himself." France groaned. Alex and Maxine exchanged glances and laughed, causing the female soldier to worry.

"What?" she asked.

"You two look cute together." Maxine chuckled, closed the fridge and walked away.

"We're not together!" France yelled, making sure Maxine would hear it wherever she went.

"We will be soon!" Soap exclaimed from outside, followed by collective laughter from the group of men with him.

Alex groaned and looked at his watch. It's already 3:36 am and he couldn't sleep. He slowly got up and looked around. On the huge bed, Jack and Price slept peacefully as evidenced by the loud snoring. Beside him on the floor was Soap, Roach and an empty spot where Ghost was supposed to sleep. The girls occupied the guest room.

Alex slowly got up and carefully assisted his metal leg, trying not to make noise as he waltzed to the balcony where he suspected Ghost to be.

And he was right, Ghost sat by the railings on the terrace, not a single expression of fear etched on his face. A face Alex saw for the first time.

"Can't sleep?" the former CIA asked. Ghost slowly turned his head and nodded.

"I'm just contemplating…" he muttered, the tone of his voice sound defeated.

"We caught ourselves in a crazy situation, huh?" Alex chuckled trying to make the best of the situation. Ghost didn't seem to like the vote of happiness as he clicked his tongue and sighed.

"I'm into France… but it looked like she's happier with John." he spat. From what Alex heard from Roach, Ghost was not the kind of person to open up. And this was all too surprising for him.

"I… uh…" Alex stammered.

"Look, I'm also sorry… You don't have to reply… I was about to vent to Gary about this but he seemed too preoccupied with Maxine and I didn't want to bother him."

"Look, it's okay. Ghost."

"It's Simon, Simon Riley."

"It's okay Simon. That's life. You win some, you lose some." he consoled. He tried to make it as positive as possible but he was also down in the dumps, like him.

"Thanks for the honesty. I just realized how devastated you must be. I never got to hear your story until Gary told me. It must've been tough losing her over and over again." Gary talked without looking at him.

"It's like I've been cursed to lose her and save her all over again." Alex complained.

"Like Link." Simon announced like it's a great metaphor which Alex didn't get.

"Link?"

"Like from the video game. Where this knight was always out to save her damsel in distress. It's got many different variations but it's always the same name. Generations have passed and Link was always destined to save Zelda." he said in amusement.

"My damsel in distress…" Alex noted and looked up at the stars, wishing that wherever Samantha may be, he hoped she's safe and also thinking of him.

Next Chapter : Delayed Flight

Notification Squad my beloved

@smokeywhalee @samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @whimsywispsblog @beemybee @ricinbach

#horRAYfic #whateverittakes #reloaded #alex echo 3 1 #john soap mactavish #john price #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #i miss yall

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