#nevermind the fact that she constantly talks about relationships & relationships advice

[contraspem--spero]

Theoretically, how does one get a professor fired

[kittyprincessofcats]

I finished RWBY Volume 5!!

Loved it!! After volume 4 was (understandably) a bit slower-paced, I didn’t expect things to get intense and serious this quickly, but I’m glad they did! I have so many thoughts I wanted to write down, so here we go:

[There will be spoilers for RWBY up to Volume 5 in this post (duh). Please don’t leave spoilers for anything after Volume 5 on this post, otherwise I will block you.]

- I have to say, I definitely liked Cinder more when she wasn’t talking. During Volume 4, I kind of started feeling bad for her on some level, but then she got better and started being her old condescending, power-hungry self and I was like… nevermind, I hate you again.

- Qrow being super drunk when he first brings Oscar home was absolutely hilarious.

- Yang is SO COOL. Have I mentioned that she’s so cool? Like wow, I wish I was that cool! The bike, the new (amazing) outfit, the way she just punched that creepy guy and walked right up to her mom’s bandit camp making demands of her – she’s so cool and I’m here for it.

- Yang and Weiss’ reunion was so sweet! 😭 I was waiting for literally any of Team RWBY’s members to reunite and that got me right in the feels! (Also, I loved the whole “Wait, your mom kidnapped me?” “Wait, you kidnapped her?” exchange - brilliant 😂.)

- Ruby’s reunion with Yang and Weiss was so sweet, too! 😭 Tears were definitely shed over reunions in this volume! And it was so nice to finally have most of Team RWBY and what’s left of Team JNPR back together and see them bond and catch up with each other 😭. Found family back together! It’s what they deserve!

- Yang being so angry at Blake for leaving makes perfect sense, imo, especially considering her own abandonment issues. And even more so considering that she lost that arm while protecting Blake. Also, I don’t think it’s reading too much into it to say that Yang and Blake’s interactions and their storyline together have had romantic undertones since volume 2. (And no, I’m not just saying that because I ship Bumbleby; it’s the other way around – I ship Bumbleby because those romantic undertones were there in the first place.) So yeah, Yang always tried to help and support Blake, lost an arm protecting her from her abusive ex, and then Blake just left – I get why Yang’s hurt and angry. And that moment where she goes from complaining about how she just wants to be there for Blake, before finally admitting “What if I needed her there for me?” - that’s a really good moment for Yang, even beyond the romantic subtext. It’s nice to see Yang admit that she also wants someone else to be there for her, that she wants to receive that same love and care in return.

- I also want to point out that it’s nice to see how far Weiss has come since volume one. She really took a level in kindness and became a lot more mature, to the point where she’s now giving Yang relationship advice. It’s really nice to see.

- Ruby’s talk with Oscar about Penny and Pyrrha really got me teary eyed.

- I wasn’t that fond of Sun at first, but he had some really great moments in this volume, so he’s starting to grow on me now. I still don’t ship him with Blake, but their friendship is sweet.

- And now, let’s talk about THE standout character of the whole volume for me: ILIA!! Holy hell, I love everything about her! You know how some characters grow on you over time, and then there are those characters that you see one episode with and they just become instant favourites? That second one was Ilia for me. I watched Blake’s character short before Volume 5 and the moment I heard her backstory she jumped right to the top of my favourite character list without question AND I started shipping her and Blake right away. (Yes, I love Bumbleby and all, but I’m a multishipper. I’m perfectly capable of equally loving two ships that contradict each other.)

- It’s just – Ilia and Blake’s dynamic got me hooked! Not to compare everything to my OTP (Catra and Adora from She-Ra and the Princesses of Power), but let me quickly make this comparison: Two girls who grew up together, were both members of a certain evil organization until one of them left it and the other didn’t, now they’re on opposing sides and have to fight each other, but they still clearly care about each other. Plus, there are confirmed romantic feelings from at least one side there. I know many people (including myself) have compared Bumbleby to Catradora before – because you’ve got one blonde jock and one catgirl – but when it comes to the dynamic and the backstory, Blake and Ilia (what’s that ship called? Catmeleon, I think?) resemble Catradora even more. And it’s just the kind of dynamic I’m weak for.

(Honestly, it’s kind of funny how predictable I am both when it comes to favourite characters and favourite ships. My sister, who got me into both She-Ra and RWBY, took one look at Catra years ago and immediately predicted that I would love her. And when she first saw Ilia, she also immediately knew she’d be one of my favourites. Basically, my sister once described my “type” of favourite characters as “troubled, cute and gay” and that pretty much sums it up.)

- Speaking of troubled, cute, and gay: I’m glad RWBY finally has some CANON LGBT representation! Hell yes for that! Honestly, I interpreted Ilia’s feelings for Blake as romantic right away, but I wondered if it was just bait or my usual tendency to see romantic undertones in any interaction between two girls. But then that “I wanted you to look at me that way” line happened and… WOW. Yes. Amazing, talented, brilliant, never been done before, showstopping, incredible. I’m 100% sold on both the ship and Ilia as a character.

(One more thing before I change topics: I try to keep these posts positive and not get into discourse too much (since I’ve heard there was (is?) a lot of discourse in the RWBY fandom – but I took just one look into the tag for Volume 5 and immediately saw people arguing that Ilia’s not good representation because she’s a villain. And I just want to quickly address why that’s nonsense, in my opinion (and before you ask, yes I am a lesbian myself): First of all, she’s not even a full-blown villain. She’s clearly shown as confused and misguided from the beginning. And her feelings for Blake are never portrayed as a negative thing. She also has a redemption literally two episodes after being revealed to be queer. And in general, I don’t think queer villains are necessarily a bad thing and I’m tired of queer characters not being allowed to be flawed. How come straight characters get to just exist, but any queer character better be a shining beacon of morality or else they’re bad representation? I agree that RWBY should introduce more queer characters to balance things out a bit, but I wouldn’t say Ilia was bad representation by herself, since she’s a character I think we’re meant to have sympathy for.

- Now I just hope that future volumes of RWBY don’t pull a Bury Your Gays and kill Ilia off... I’d really hate that. (No spoilers on this post, please!)

- The entire fight at the Belladonnas’ house had me so on edge the whole time. I thought someone (most likely one or both of Blake’s parents) was going to die any second. Basically, the ending of volume 3 burned me and now I constantly expect characters to die. I’m glad it all (mostly) turned out well!

- Blake’s speech to the Faunus might have made me a bit emotional. That was a really great moment for her.

- And then there were those final episodes… WOW. Like I said, I really didn’t expect everything to go down so quickly (or for the ending to be that happy – like I said, volume 3 burned me.)

- Jaune unlocking his semblance was nice! And I’m proud of myself for having correctly predicted that he’d have some sort of healing powers. (I was waiting for him to unlock some healing semblance back when Qrow got injured in Volume 4 – I’m glad it finally happened!)

- I was worried about Weiss for a second, then I realized there’s no way she can die since I’ve already seen pictures of her outfit in later volumes. (Plus, I’m pretty sure if a main character had died, I’d have been unable to completely avoid spoilers about it. So those 4 are pretty much the only ones I’m not that worried about.)

- Raven is a really cool and interesting character, but an awful person. (I got so angry at her when she blasted Ruby after Ruby was just so nice to her*. How dare you, lady?) I love her design, though!

[*EDIT: I just rewatched it and realized that it was Cinder who blasted Ruby, Raven just created the portal. Point still stands, tough.]

- The plot twist of who the Spring Maiden really is was EPIC. Really loved that reveal! (And I honestly didn’t see it coming.) Though I have to say, I feel really bad for Vernal, and for the previous Spring Maiden.

- The Cinder VS Raven fight was absolutely epic and just stunning to watch visually. I was wondering if we’d ever get a maiden vs maiden battle, and that scene more than delivered! And while I don’t particularly like either of them, I was definitely rooting for Raven in that fight.

- I’m not sure if Cinder really died there. If so, I’m honestly not too sad about it, but I would be disappointed because I kind of expected her to become a more interesting character later on. After Volume 4, I expected at least a bit of growth there or something that would make her more interesting. And I’m not talking about a redemption, just to be clear! I just think the potential to make her more interesting as a villain was there, and if they just killed her off it’s kind of wasted now and she stayed a very flat character until the end. But I guess we’ll see.

- Raven and Yang’s confrontation was pretty intense. I liked that Raven finally had to admit that she’s afraid and doing all of this just to protect herself, and the contrast to Yang, who is also scared but still does what she thinks is right. And the fact that Raven was willing to let Yang have the relic despite the danger that would put her in – mom of the year indeed 🙄.

- Blake and the other Faunus are the real MVPs of the battle, tbh. The fact that they just completely stopped Adam and the White Fang by sheer numbers and didn’t even give them the chance to attack anyone? God tier stuff. And when Blake’s mom came in with the police? 10/10, we stan.

- Also, Blake telling Adam she’s not there for him? Hell yes, girl! I love how she’s taking power away from her abuser by showing she isn’t doing any of this for him. Really nice.

- Yang and Blake’s reunion in the last episode was super nice. I like how there was so much attention on that reunion in particular. And while I’m glad Yang wasn’t too angry at Blake and it makes for a nice happy ending, I still hope there’s a scene next volume where Blake properly apologizes to Yang for leaving and explains her side of things. And then, they should get together and live happily ever after and have lots of kittens. I mean, what?

- And finally, all of Team RWBY is back together! And they’ll have a lot to catch each other up on. Blake doesn’t even know about the maidens, the relics and Salem yet, while the rest didn’t even know about the White Fang attack. Also, I want Blake to introduce the others to Ilia and to her parents.

I really loved this volume. Lots of action, lots of really sweet moments, lots of epic fights and cool plot twists. I find it hard to rank them, but this might have been my favourite volume yet (volume 3 was also really good, though).

[florencwrites]

ever since phoenix 〚dreamwastaken〛

in which clay has earned himself the name dreamboat, short; dream. a mcyt spin on macgyver where reader deals with remnants of trauma.

(!) blood, mentions of emotional trauma, kidnapping (!)

"Soooo," Jack trailed cautiously. He was not a man of deliberation per se, however, he knew when a certain level of carefulness was needed. This was one of those times. "How are you and the missus?"

"Fine." Brief and effective. That's Clay for you. "Now is not exactly the time for relationship advice, Jack."

"So you agree, you need relationship advice." He scanned the room again, gun tight in his grip; leading his gaze. "Boxed yourself there, pal."

"Let's talk about this after I've disarmed this, alright?" A huff of annoyance from the crouching blonde, his face a mere few inches from the ticking device. A device that normally would've taken him barely a minute to take apart, but with his good friend hanging from his lips; it took a little longer than expected.

Jack, in response, cleared his throat loudly, raising his eyebrows in mock warning. "I'm just saying, something's not right and maybe genius over here needs some help." He rolled out the tension in his shoulders, his gun still pointed at the entrance. He shot his eyes back to his friends after his lack of reply, only to see him dropping the now useless device. "I don't need your help, we're doing fine."

Clay rose to his feet, dusting off his pants before pushing past Jack to head for the reinforced door. Of course, being the armed one of the two, Jack pushed himself back in front of him, clearing the hallways before continuing their journey through the complex. Their backs pressed against the rough concrete, bullet holes still decorating them almost entirely. Reaching a junction, Jack lowered himself slightly before peeking his head around the corner. "Clear."

The pair moved onto the next hallway, Clay mirroring his companion's steps almost entirely. "Come on, Dreamboat, just admit there's some things that little brain of yours just can't wrap itself around."

"There are many things my brain can't comprehend, love isn't one of them." He rolled his eyes, knowing fully well that Jack had his back turned to him anyways. "It's just chemistry, simple."

"You're wrong, I'm telling you." A sing-songy tone to his words, Jack taunted the blonde some more. "Chemistry's just the first step, my friend. After that, it's all up to you."

"We've got company."

"Fine, do your thing. We're talking about this later." A promise, one made while firing several rounds of bullets into enemy lines.

-

"You might be the dumbest genius I've ever met." Sheer annoyance laced the older man's tone, immediately tracing his words with a swirling sip of lukewarm beer. The other side of the dialogue, too, showed serious signs of irritation. A drawn-out groan while throwing his head back, Clay replied, "Fine, I'll bite. Why?"

"Well, where's the lady of the house?" He threw out the bait. However, Jack had neither been a man of patience, so as Clay opened his mouth to answer his rhetorical question, Jack already intercepted him, "Bet she's real tired, huh?"

"Yeah, how'd you- Nevermind." He glanced over the look on his friend's face, soon realizing he bit right into his hook.

A sigh, a genuine one. Reaching forward to lean his elbows onto his knees, staring into the flames of the firepit they had grown so used to. "So, what does she sleep in?"

"Dude! Gross, I'm not answering that."

"Bet it's that beige shirt of yours, right? The one with the big red letters." He never once averted his gaze to meet Clay's, keeping them entirely trained on the fire. Clay furrowed his eyebrows, his emerald eyes slowly making their way to the bottom left corner of his vision, a tell he often showed when deliberating his next move. He then, too, leaned forward to rest on his knees. Once again, mirroring Jack's motions. "It- it is."

"Please just tell me what's going on, Jack." And at last, his normally monotone features showed a glint of desperation.

"It's the last shirt you wore." Another swig of beer landed itself in his mouth, quickly swallowing before continuing, "You wanna know why she's always so tired when you see her?"

"I'll give you a hint, it's not Lyme's." Finally, a light chuckle from his side, followed by a faint hum in affirmation. "She doesn't sleep when you're gone, dude."

Finally, the pair met eyes. A saddened shimmer in both their glances, Jack continued, "All the signs are there."

A nearly audible click in the genius blonde's head. "She's been having nightmares."

"She's been having nightmares." Jack affirmed for him once again, "Trust me, I know what they look like."

They shared a pause of breath, allowing themselves to take a deep breath simultaneously. How could he have been so stupid, of course, she was having nightmares. All the things she went through back in April, all those questions he was forced to leave unanswered. The exhaustion radiating from her pale skin, for weeks now. Jack was right, she had been sleeping in his shirts constantly, sometimes even once he was sure he had put in the laundry basket just hours before. "God, I should have known."

"There's nothing you could've done, Dream." Another sweet reassurance, one that didn't mean a whole lot to him right now.

"I could've known- I should've known." He abruptly pushed himself from his seat, leaving his emptied bottle by the pit. "She doesn't feel safe here."

"I don't think that's it, mate, I think she just feels unsafe anywhere." He followed his friend's face to where it was now stood next to him on the patio, peering up to try and meet his eyes. "Anywhere that's not with you, probably."

"She doesn't deserve any of this." Pacing slowly between the pit and the wall a few feet from him, the man was wrecking himself with guilt, already. Quickly, Jack intervened, noticing his friend's 'spiraling look' from miles away. "Hey! Hey, hey. No one deserves this alright?"

"She should've never been there.." Running a hair through his locks, Clay sat back down by the fire. His head now covered by his hands, leaning forward to hide his features entirely in guilt and perhaps shame, too.

"That," A gentle pat landed itself on his back by Jack as he used his other hand to finish off his beer. "That, I agree with you, pal."

-

Sheer terror painted her face that day, bound and gagged in some concrete box. In the movies, they always say how it was 'cold and eerie', and however ghostly the situation might have been, there was no cold in this room. Not a single cooling breeze, just pure and unfiltered heat. The concrete was entirely warmed up, too, the only thing that refreshed her even in the slightest was the chilling nature of her shackles, the ones that restrained her to the sticky leather chair she was stuck in.

She assumed it was leather, she had no real way of knowing. Her vision had been blocked by some kind of rag, a different texture to the one that was balled up in her mouth. The duct tape used to secure it in place was pulling at her skin, uncomfortably so.

So, with her hands bound, vision blocked and mouth gagged, there were but two senses left to her. Three, if you include the dooming shadow of possible death that loomed in her head. She'd do anything to just hear his voice right now, he'd know what to do.

Instead of his voice, there was a soft ticking in the room. More specifically, on her abdomen. A scorching hot box was tightened to her abdomen, burning the feeling of its ticking into her mind. She was sure there'd been no way this thing was actually that hot, but the idea of it being stuck to her, it killing her, was enough to leave scars on her stomach.

The other sense that was left unaltered, was her nose. Her sense of smell. Iron, mold, sweat. The last two were logical. She'd been locked in there for hours, in the absolute heat of southern America, there was no way she wasn't sweating up a storm. Mold, she was probably in a basement somewhere, her feet had given away the concrete flooring. But iron, iron wasn't something you usually smelt. Rust, maybe. But this was metallic, and it wasn't from her shackles. If it were, she'd have smelt it was before now.

The screeching of a metal pipe on the concrete walls shook her, the gag keeping her from letting out a loud squeal. Someone was in here with her, for the first time in hours, someone was in here with her. A few faint tuts, heavy footsteps carrying themselves around her perimeter.

A sharp blade running itself along her cheek, barely not breaking skin. "Tik, tok, tik, tok, tik tok."

She scrunched her eyes even tighter as a hand dropped onto her head. The single thing that brought her comfort right now was the fact that there was no way this lunatic would detonate the bomb on her abdomen while in the room with her. "Wonder what's taking him so long, aren't you?"

He stopped talking, his steps carrying him back to wherever he came from. However, his taunting continued in her head for the coming hours she was left to fend for her own. Tik, tok, tik, tok, tik tok.

What's taking him so long?

-

She struggled immensely against her restraints, abruptly having been awoken by cold hands on her sides. The man's hands hadn't ever been this cold before, they were horribly sweaty and warm, almost to a sticky extent. "Shhhh."

Familiarity washed over her body, her muscles almost instantly untightening at the sound of him. "You have to stay still for me, okay? I have to get this thing off you first."

"Dream, unblind the poor girl first, will ya?" Jack's mellow voice called out from a few feet beside her. The rag was gently pulled from eyes. His assuring tone filled her ears, his comforting face inches from hers. God, she'd never been this happy to see Jack. "There she is."

She tried desperately to get some words out, however, her mouth was still filled with cloth, and while hesitant, she knew there was probably a good reason they hadn't taken it off yet. "Water! Water, get her some water, she's gonna need it." Jack was quick to order one of the agents to get her something to drink, knowing the feeling very well, having been kidnapped a dozen times back in his day.

"It's connected to another device," Clay exclaimed from before her, his hands very carefully working around the wires connecting her to this bomb. For some reason, it had been scarier in her mind, when she hadn't been able to see it. Now, seeing it rest on her stomach didn't scare her nearly as much as the menacing ticking that had haunted her for so long. "Riley, do we know who's behind this?"

A faint hum from the wire in his ear, she couldn't decipher it. Meanwhile, Jack was rattling her shackles, trying to at least free her hands. However, according to her boyfriend, not a very good idea, "Don't!"

"What? You scared she'll strangle you?" A mocking choice of words from her dear friend, almost allowing her to chuckle. The drought in her throat, however, still wouldn't allow her to make a single peep. "No, Jack, taking off the chains would detonate this entire thing, like the gag."

Jack formed an 'o' with his mouth, shooting his eyes around the room in slight embarrassment, "Where's that water the lady ordered?"

For some reason, the minutes after they had found her felt impossibly longer than the hours she had spent alone. Nevertheless, after 24 minutes exactly, there was a breakthrough. His voice soft, gentle, Clay carefully removed his fingers from the device while simultaneously asking for Jack to put his back on."Okay, try again."

A loud snap and several clangs later, her hands were freed, eyes crunched in expectancy of death, it didn't seem to come. Hastily, she clawed at her mouth, only now realizing the rag had been encased in metal bars and colored wires. Dream carefully lifted the contraption from her face, immediately letting her fall into his arms sobbing.

And so, he let her cry. Bawl her eyes out, drown out the sheer terror she must've felt during these hours he had lost her. He ran his arms around her back, pulling her impossibly tight into his own torso. "You're okay, you're okay."

"I've got you, I've always got you."

-

The night following his conversation with Jack was the first night Clay had seen her cry since that day.

She sobbed into his arms as he assured her that she would always be safe, no matter where he was or what happened between them. He would always keep her safe.

The nightmares disappeared when she was with him because there had never been a doubt in her mind that she was safe when she was with him. She slept incomparably well the first days after every mission, because even if he wasn't in the bed next to her; she knew he was there. She slept well, because the smell of his shirt encased her every sense, rendering it impossible for her to not feel safe, with his cologne evident lingering through her sheets.

[taliaquinn]

Why Me!? Chapter 15

A/N: Sorry I took a while to update my peeps. Fun fact this chapter was originally over 2,500 words so I split it. After going through a massive edit it was still long anyways:). So Enjoy the fact that Chapter 16 is going to come out very soon, also more one shots will be posted. Check out the most recent one if you guys haven’t :)

“NO WAY,NO, ABSOLUTELY NOT,” Marinette yelped “SCREW SOCIAL INTERACTION!!!” leaping from the chair she immediately started pacing around.

“Marinette you have to go to School, you’re too smart and can't always be cooped up here.” As much as Bruce would love having his children to stay in the relative safety of the house “Besides you wouldn’t be alone Tim and Damian both go to Gotham Academy”

“B-but Bruce” he allowed shock to flood his body because finally his daughter wasn’t calling him Mr.Wayne. Uck. He knew Stark was still dealing with that problem with his own protege. “Gotham Academy is one of the most prestigious schools in the States not to mention expensive”

“Marinette, do you realize that the cost is nothing to me?” Oh god he went through this with most of his children, the whole "please don’t waste your money on me” routine. “it’s my job as a father to make sure my kids are safe AND are receiving a great education”

“The cost means a lot to me-hold up don’t they offer scholarships?” She asked a glimmer of hope in her eyes

“Yes but they are mostly for kids who otherwise wouldn’t be able to attend, The Wayne foundation offers a few, anyways you won’t be completely alone Tim and Damian both go to Gotham Academy” Bruce explained, Jesus all of his kids were so weird about money, well most of them, Damian and Tim were something else.

“Ugh Fine, what about my parents? Will they be okay with it?” No way would Maman and Papa allow it.

“Oh they already enrolled you, your mother just thought that I deserved the honor of telling you” he said rolling his eyes.

“WHAT!!!!”

Oh boy maybe he should have let Dick and Alfred handle this.

Cesaire Apartment                                                                                      Paris, France                                                                                            5:00pm

“Come on Think about it Nino, Marinette’s gone what could she do anyways?” Alya asked her boyfriend on facetime, unfortunately she and Nino couldn’t go out, both were stuck taking care of their siblings. Joy.

“Alya im not sure…... the article seems a bit too far, I mean Chat Noir hasn’t exactly been helpful lately, plus he HAS been acting rather childish lately,” Nino Responded, He might need glasses but that doesn't mean he was blind to the Chat Noir situation. He’s been distracting Ladybug and he hasn’t bothered showing up a few times to the Akuma Battles!!! Some hero. “Why not post the video of your interview with Adrien? That will instantly attract all of his uh eager fangirls” he offered

“Apparently sunshine boy has to ask his Dad for permission, so this article is the next best thing” The article she was referring to was in response to the video of Marinette lecturing Chat Noir. It wasn't as much fact based but opinion based

“Why are you still hung up on Marinette so much? She used to be our best friend”

“She's a bully, who constantly attacks Lila, and still hasn’t confessed to what she has done”

“What if it’s Lila who is lying?” Nino asked cautiously, he never knew what would set Alya off these days.

“Not you too, you know what? Maybe you should just switch classes like the rest of the traitors if you believe that” she scowled. “Go be on their side”

“Sides What sides? Alya there isn’t any sides”

“Yes there's the right side and the wrong side”

“What makes you so sure that we're on the right side?” Nino finally asked. He has been having his doubts. Something about Lila’s stories just wasn't adding up.

“You’re being Ridiculous Nino, You know what? I don't want to talk to you right now, you obviously won't listen” Alya screeched ending the call. Nino Stared at the dark screen with his jaw open in shock.

He’s being ridiculous?

It's his fault?

These last few weeks, Alya has been borderline unbearable. Nino found himself having to resist calling Marinette and asking her for advice.

On one hand it was out of guilt on the other hand some part of Nino already knew what she would say. She would tell him to break up with Alya. The relationship was getting far too toxic. He turned on his phone and clicked on Alyas contact. Thinking out his Message he finally typed the message he's been wanting to send for the last few days

Nino: Hey, I just don’t think this is working. This relationship is bad for the both of us. Ask Lila for help instead. Goodbye Al

Message Sent

Message Received

Wayne Manor                                                                                      Gotham,USA                                                                                                      8 pm

“Trust me Pixiepop Dick is the last person to ask for advice concerning school, Dickhead was smart, sure, but he also dropped out of college ” Jason explained to Marinette, who was mopping about school “He decided to enroll in the Police Academy instead, believe me Bruce was pretty pissed about that”

“B-ut it he quit to do something he actually likes, I doubt he actually wanted to be a businessman,” Marinette retorted. “speaking of which do you think he’s doing alright in Bludhaven?” She asked her voice laced with concern.

Jason knew for a fact that Dick wasn’t doing that great, he was pulling overtime as Officer Grayson and working the night as Nightwing, Bruce and Tim weren’t fairing that great either. The impending gang war was keeping most of the local vigilante community busy.

“I’m sure he’s fine pixie pop”

He was absolutely not fine.

Unbeknownst to them, Nightwing had walked right into an ambush inside a warehouse right next to Bludhaven Bay. With a few more hours of sleep Nightwing might’ve had a higher chance of winning , unfortunately he was running on 3 hours of sleep a night so he was getting quickly overwhelmed.

After one too many punches Nightwing finally put out a distress alert.

“Master Jason, You have a Call from Bludhaven Bay, Your friend there seems to be in need of your help”

“I’ll take it, Sorry Maribug seems like I have to head out right about now.” Jason he quickly answered. Fuck. Dick was in danger.

“Why?” Marinette asked puzzled, why not just take the call here? “Cause This dingwatt friend of mines only calls me if he’s in trouble or about to be”

“Can I come w-” Marinette was cut off by her phone chirping crap akuma.

“Actually you know what? Better not keep you” she said walking backwards towards the door “Stay safe Jay, see ya, toodles~”. She quickly exited and quickly walked towards her room.

“She's hiding something isn’t she Alfie?” Jason said after witnessing Marinette's strange departure

“It is blatantly obvious Master Jason, although I do believe she is permitted to do so seeing as how we all have our small secrets” Alfred said with a huff. His hopes for a normal grandchild have just been dashed. Maybe he will have better luck with great-children? Shaking his heads to clear his thought he and Jason quickly made their way towards the Batcaves entrance,

Jason stopped mid stride an odd feeling overcoming him “You feel that?” Jason asked feeling a rush of warmth

“Feel what Master Jason?”

“Nevermind let's go save Dickie-bird”

Welp I hoped you enjoyed today’s update :). Also I hope you guys have been taking care of yourselves. I know that it has been a bit different lately due to well everything. Please feel free to message me if you guys need to. Stay safe and healthy ❤️

Also if the text is a bit wonky i’m sorry, still learning all the tips and tricks

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[imagine-that-one-thing]

Her Majesty || 8

All Aboard.

The countryside was a wonderful time and a refreshing getaway, but I have been drawn back to reality and it has been nothing short of horrible from the moment I stepped foot back on the grounds of the palace. I’m starting to resent Buckingham, I can’t wait to move to Windsor or one of the other palaces; I’d be more than pleased to travel to the private palaces, we all know my love for Hillsborough Castle. I’m at the point where I want to get away from my father. I would like to have more space between us. Buckingham, although has 775 rooms, isn’t large enough for his temper and narcissism. My father doesn’t appear like my father, he is furious, all of the time. Nobody wants to be around him, and I am not quite sure how my mother deals with him. I don’t know whether or not she sees what the rest of us see, she is silent and using her time to do her duties. 

I heavily sigh as my ladies maid opens my bedroom door and steps inside my room, a small indication I have overstayed my welcome in my bed. I sit up as I gaze over at her, surprised that I have managed to stay this long in bed without being interrupted. “It is quiet,” I point out, cocking my head to the side while she steps closer and begins to adjust the covers of my bed. 

Since I got home a few weeks ago, the Palace has been far from placid, from my father firing and yelling at people to him throwing things around, today is the first morning I haven’t woken up to him on some sort of rampage. “Where’s my father? He is still alive, right?” I half chuckle. 

“He is in town, Anastasia, I’m not meant to talk to you.” 

I roll my eyes as I get out of bed and I shuffle closer to her, “That is nonsense, I don’t care what my father says, he is being a prick right now. You can talk to me, Eleanor.” I assure Eleanor, a little bothered that my father has decided to take his wrath out on the staff, they shouldn’t be frightened to speak to anyone, no matter the status. “What happened?” I prompt Eleanor, beginning to help her with making the bed. 

At first, she is hesitant, but I continue to probe her, eager to get an understanding of what is happening with the staff. “He doesn’t want anybody speaking… May I speak out of term?” 

“Go ahead.” 

As I have gotten older, I have been the one to listen to what the staff have to say, I don’t take much offence to their opinions or even their advice. I may be in line for a crown, but I am no better than they are, I still see them as equals. Sometimes, they are a better companion and support than my parents’. Don’t get me wrong, my parents’ have been excellent with raising me and shaping me into who I am. I have never had much of an issue with them, but when my parents’ were gone, it was the staff who also contributed to who I am, they helped me when I was at my whits ends, they encouraged me when I felt down, and they have stepped up as a friend when I have had nobody to turn to. There are somethings outside the castle that can’t be understood to most people. I haven’t had the privilege to have numerous friends’, they have all twisted into snakes, therefore, my circle is extremely small. To be honest, my circle consists essentially of Harry and the staff assigned to me who I have formed relationships with. My father doesn’t get to tell them they aren’t allowed to talk to me when they have done nothing wrong. 

“Princess,” Eleanor whispers, “I think-, I think he is scared the palace staff will rat him out.” 

“Rat him out?” I immediately question, my mind driving to race with the possible things that could be happening behind the scenes.

Eleanor looks around my room, scared that someone may overhear us, “I’m not sure, but nobody is allowed to speak and we aren’t allowed to clean his office, it is now off-limits.” 

I frown for a moment, unsure of what is going on, but I can’t help but remember what Harry told me over the weekend about how there are theories that all the staff have. I can only assume he knows a little something about what is going on. He has to know things, he is constantly watching and kept in the loop of things. 

“Where is Mr Styles?” I challenge, noticing how I have yet to see him this morning. He usually makes it a routine to at least stop by if he has other things to do. Usually, Harry steps in the room, kisses me goodbye and leaves or he will send me a text, but today, not a word.  

“He is escorting your father, he insisted on having the best of the best. I was told I need to have your suitcases packed, is there anything specific you would like to wear?” 

“Anything is fine, Eleanor, I have a few meetings and things to attend to, I trust your judgment of clothes.” … “The best of the best?” I raise a brow. 

Eleanor nods her head, “Mr Styles is the best, the entire palace knows it. Always on the move, assertive and knows what’s happening. His looks are also a bonus,” Eleanor chuckles. 

“Is it common knowledge that he is good at his job? Is this what the ladies maids do? Swoon over him?” I question with a laugh, rather intrigued. I have heard a few sly comments about Harry that the ladies have made before. 

“I don’t think he is aware of how good he is at his job, quite humble.”

“Mhm, let’s keep it that way. Too many compliments and he might gain an ego,” I playfully wink and Eleanor nods her head. “Does he have a girlfriend?” 

Eleanor shrugs her shoulders, “Nobody knows, he doesn’t talk much on personal matters when we are off the clock… He’s never really around. We have our speculations that he has a lady. We joke that he meets her in the underground tunnels around town.” 

“Everyone loves a mystery man,” I respond, “I will leave you alone now, I have to prepare for Greece.” I politely excuse myself from Eleanor and I’s conversation, discreetly moving to my closet to get dressed.

When I was rambling to Harry about running away to Greece or something, I did not mean I wanted to go to Greece because of royal duties. I guess the universe got my requests confused. I’m not sure why my father has decided a prompt royal visit is to happen. I am sure we will find out what the reason is. We don’t do significant business with Greece, in fact, I don’t remember my father ever having much collaboration with Greece. We have been to several countries on official state visits, but not Greece. There isn’t diplomatic sensitivity, at least, not in my opinion, so I can only assume it’s mainly because there is no monarchy in Greece. 

♔♔♔

I pace the aisle of the private plane, my nails tapping against my phone screen anxiously. I haven’t heard from Harry all day, no text or call, and here I am on a plane with no clue what’s happening. I have no clue why I am even on the plane, I don’t foresee there is any logical reason for us to be going to Greece. There are no foreign affairs for Greece that need our attention. If I had my way, I would be using this time and the taxpayers’ money to be going somewhere beneficial to the monarch, I would be doing a small trip to bring light to the monarch since Henry has created a turmoil of issues and slammed me with the press. But, I am not Queen, I do not have the say, it all lays in my father’s hands-on where we go as royals. 

I’m not entirely certain what the itinerary has me doing, I have a gut feeling that it will change one-hundred times before I get to the hotel, but with the way Eleanor packed my suitcase I can only assume this is going to entail five outfit changes in a day and consists of lunches or formal dinners’ with diplomats or god knows who. 

I gasp as I hear the plane door open and I immediately settle when I see Harry with his suitcase right behind him, “I’m sorry, just know I’m sorry,” Harry immediately begins as he gives me a quick kiss to the cheek before walking to place his suitcase at the back of the aircraft. “It has been a long and rough day, my phone is dead in one of my pockets and Matthew is probably going to strangle me for being late but it wasn’t my fault. Your Father almost missed his flight with British Airways and I don’t know why we can’t all just fly together and save me some time. Had to run to opposite ends of Heathrow.” Harry mutters, not too amused with his journey for the day. 

My parents are flying British Airways, meanwhile, I have the privilege of the private plane, mainly because my meetings ended later than my parents’ flight. “Yes, I know heirs can’t fly together, I’m just tired. Did Matthew already check the plane?” Harry glances over towards me before he shakes his head, not giving me a chance to respond, “Nevermind, I’ll check it myself. Before you ask one hundred questions, we have a full team of security, I’m on your service, there’s a new kid I have to train but that’s beside the point, high security, which means Matthew is concerned there’s a threat, so don’t stray.” Harry begins informing me of what he knows without me having to ask.

I guess he’s used to the questions by now.

Harry settles his hands between each seat, tugging at seatbelts and eyeing every inch of the plane he possibly can, “We should be taking off in a few minutes, it’s a clear flight plan. Matthew will sweep the hotel first. It’s a three and a half hour flight, we should be arriving at four in the morning since they’re two hours ahead of us.” 

“Harry,” I step in front of him as he’s manoeuvring his way around the plane, “You can relax. You’re like spitting out information.” 

Harry pauses for a moment and takes a breath, “Been a long day, I’m ready for bed, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, 

“Why is the royal family going to Greece? Do they even have a king?” Harry questions. 

I shake my head, “The Constitution of Greece, which describes Greece as a "presidential-parliamentary republic"-“ I begin but I’m promptly cut off. 

“Darling, I’m tired, can you dumb it down or say it in English, please?” Harry offers me a petite smile, stopping me from rambling and explaining things thoroughly to him. 

“There’s no monarchy. In July 1973 the Greek military called a 'referendum', which abolished the Monarchy for the second time in Greek history.” 

“It failed, twice?” Harry curiously inquires. 

I nod my head, “The Greek monarchy existed from 1832 to 1924, and again from 1935 to 1974.” 

Harry grows withdrawn for a moment. “So, tell me again why we are being dragged to Greece?” 

“Well, I was hoping you’d have the answer to that.” 

“Why would I?” 

“You were with the king all day.” 

Harry heavily sighs and nods his head, “And it was a long day. But he didn’t tell me why we are all going to Greece, in fact, he barely spoke to me. Which, I’m fine with, I’ve heard he has been an ass to everybody.” 

“He didn’t mention anything?” 

Harry shakes his head, “No, nothing that could point to why we are going to Greece. Are they bringing back their monarchy?” 

It appears as though we are both at a loss as to why this trip is happening. There has to be someone who knows the exact reasons. The itinerary doesn’t reveal much. For the most part, it is my father doing most of the obligations solo and at unusual hours. 

“I highly doubt it. Maybe we have finally been invited by the Greek president to make a state visit? Maybe he wants to boost ties in the region? I don’t know. Nobody wants to be around him, nobody knows what the hell he is doing. I think he’s going to end up turning the monarch to shit.” I inform Hary of my opinions. Up until recently, he has done a standup job with handling things and with keeping the monarch up to high standards, but for some reason, he has flipped a switch. 

He wants me to get married and to take over for no real reason. There is no reason for him to abdicate and I don’t see why he would want me to stand in for him. This isn’t a situation where he is handing me his legacy because he thinks I am fit for the job because let’s be real, he doesn’t think I am ready yet. I’m not ready for the responsibility,  but everyone wants to bestow it upon me. It is all anybody talks about since it was announced. 

“I don’t think he’ll ruin the monarchy, I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.” 

“Yeah, burning it to the ground,” I grumble. 

Harry grows reserved for a moment before clearing his throat and speaking, “Would that be such a bad thing?” …. “I mean, I’m just asking as a future king, ya know?” Harry immediately adjusts his tone, regarding my glare and the fact I’m not amused by the concept of the monarchy burning to the ground. 

I hum, “Mhm, I’m sure the future king is very concerned about the monarchy.” 

“Of course, I am. I mean, the people’s lives are in my hands.” 

“Steady there, don’t get too far ahead,” I chuckle, “There’s no way my people's lives are in your hands.” 

“Wouldn't they be our people?” Harry emphasises ‘our.’

I roll my eyes playfully, a chuckle escaping between my lips. This is why I love this man. “Uhm, do you know how the monarch works, darling? You’re lucky if they honour you as king consort, and at this rate, you aren’t being honoured at all, did you forget? Nobody knows we are engaged because everything will fall apart.” 

“I don’t care if I don’t have an honour title as long as I’m your husband.” 

“You can claim that title when we get married.” 

Harry nods his head before slumping down in a seat, his hands rubbing his eyes while his elbows rest on his knees. 

While Harry takes a minute to decompress and relax, I begin to rethink everything that has been packed, the feeling of forgetting something sinking into my thoughts. 

I mentally check off the things that I’m aware have been handled, passport, black outfit (mourning attire), skincare, makeup, jewellery. “I feel like I’m forgetting something,” I murmur, watching as Harry leans back and closes his eyes, “The luggage has all been counted for, right?” I ask Harry, aware that he has probably double-checked everything as well. 

“It is hard to ignore the colour-coded luggage system. It’s all perfect, monograms and all,” Harry responds with a petite grin, “I know you’re staring at me, stop,” Harry chuckles. 

“Harry, I’m forgetting something… luggage, passport..” I begin to think out loud. 

I can’t wholly think of what it is, but there is a deep-rooted sense in the pit of my stomach that I can’t shake. It is either my gut telling me I have forgotten something or my intuition is screaming at me for some reason. I can’t assume it is a bad feeling,  but whatever it is, I can’t seem to shake it. Whatever it is, it worries me.

“Did you forget your ring?” Harry opens an eye and glances at me with droopy, grey eyes. 

I shake my head, drawing my necklace out and showing him my ring on the chain, “It’s here… oh no… Harry…” 

“What?” He softly challenges, still wanting to doze off. 

“My briefcase, it has all my documents and work in it, correspondents and—“ I begin to fret. 

“I got it.” Harry cuts me off with a heavy sigh, “I saw it when I had to grab your father’s luggage because he fired his damn valets.” 

I let out a breath of relief and smile at him while I carefully decide to rest in his lap, straddling his hips.

He opens his eyes, blinking at me. I don’t say a word, instead, I lean down and leave a trail of sugary kisses on his neck and jawline. His hands move and rest to the small of my back as he lets out a heavy breath. “Anna,” Harry whispers. “Darling, I can’t, I’m tired. I love you, but the next four hours are the only hours I get to sleep, as soon as we land I have to work, can we finish this later?” 

“Later? We won’t have time, I have my duties.” I huff, a little irritated that he is turning me down. We have been too busy and constantly surrounded by people that we have not had many moments to be intimate. 

“I promise there will be time, I’ll make sure of it.” 

“What do you even have to do when we land? Can’t you come to the hotel with me?” I ask Harry, batting my eyes at him in an attempt to get my way.

“I have to make sure the itinerary is being kept secret by the palace. I have to do my job, Anna, so many things to do before your family meets with the public officials, or the world leaders, I don’t know what the hell your Dad has fully planned. What I know is that I have a lot to do. I have a new guy to train, I’ll be jumping from your service to the kings—“ Harry begins to somewhat ramble about things, his thoughts running at one-hundred different things. “You need to do your SAS training, you have a refresher course to do.” 

“Just go to sleep, you need to turn your thoughts off. Turned down again.” I mutter unhappily, getting off of him and sitting in the seat beside his. 

Harry sighs heavily and places his hand on my thigh, trying to inch towards my hand, “Come on, don’t be like this.”

“No,” I shift his hand away. 

“Anna—” 

“Don’t ‘Anna’ me.” 

“Princess.” Harry is purposely attempting to irritate me now. 

I glare at him and huff. “Don’t, you know how I feel about being called a princess by you.” 

“Darling,” Harry sighs, “I’m tired, I am. I love you and I’m not turning you down. I know it has been a while but I promise we will find the time.”

I understand he is exhausted, he has been working without much sleep for the last few weeks. I am not solely sure what he has been working on. Harry hasn’t had to watch over me; I have kept to myself at the palace and been in the office doing paperwork, responding to letters and over the phone conferences.  “Go to sleep.”

“Tell me you love me, too,” Harry sleepily requests. 

I rest my head on his shoulder, allowing my fingers to slip between his, “I love you, too.” I respond.

♔♔♔

 Harry's pov 

Since landing at four this morning, I haven’t slept or stopped working, I feel as though it has been one thing after another that has necessitated my direct attention. 

It’s times like this that I wonder why I agreed to become a royal bodyguard, life would be more peaceful if I had stayed in the countryside with my mother, but then I wouldn’t have met Anna.  

I’m on the Kings service for most of the day, and I already despise it. He’s not the most straightforward man to look after at the moment. He can’t give me a full list of the men and women he desires to meet today, therefore not permitting me to do a fitting background check to ensure the safety of the family. He won’t cooperate at all, and I’ve already had to play hide and seek with him twice. By the time I’m off his service, I’m going to require a stiff drink, perhaps even the bottle. I’m not sure what has shifted with the king, but he is not acting like himself. Well, he’s acting shadier than usual, and it doesn’t settle well with me. Matthew has noticed a few red flags but not enough to take too much action, not that he can do anything, he is hired by the king, who is Matthew to confront the king? 

I take a sip of my third coffee of the morning and stroll down the hallway of the hotel room, checking each door handle in the corner of my eye, making sure they all still have the do-not-disturb sign on them. We’ve managed to clear the floor so only the royals and the staff are on it. If any sign is disrupted, I know we aren’t the only ones using certain rooms. I reach the end of the hallway where I meet the trainee, Oliver. 

I give him a nod and he clears his throat, “The princess hasn’t come out.” 

“Mhm, I was requested to go over protocol for today with her. While I explain it to her, I expect you’re already aware of the procedures and the itinerary?” I challenge, taking another sip of my coffee— I need something stronger. If it wasn’t immoral I would add a shot of liquor to this coffee.

Oliver nods his head, “Yes. Do I ride in the car with her?” 

“Yes, and you never let her open or close her car door. Don’t let anyone touch her, today isn’t about hugs.” I inform Oliver. “Do you know where the nearest A&E in case of a medical emergency?” I question, making sure he has the basics covered. 

I don’t assume a trip to A&E is on the cards but there is no telling what will happen. 

Oliver nods his head, “Twelve minutes from where we will be at. And twenty-five minutes from this hotel.” 

“Correct.” I swipe the key to her room. “Put your tie on before you leave for the event,” I instruct firmly. I know wearing a tie is irritating and an insignificant thing, but we have to fit in with everyone else, which means dressing the part as well. If photos are taken, we don’t want to look like the odd ones out in the background. Also, it is part of our attire when diplomats and possible other royals are around. 

I walk into Anastasia’s room and close the door behind me. I step closer towards her as she remains at the edge of the bed in her coat-dress, “Good morning, sweetheart.” I softly beam, leaning down and kissing her cheek. 

She looks beautiful. I am one lucky man. 

“Good morning. You never came to bed last night.” Anastasia gazes up at me while I take a step back. 

“Your father has had me working since we landed. Already done two meetings and I’m on my third? Cup of coffee. Could it be my fourth?” I challenge myself, unsure of what number I am on. 

Anastasia beams up at me, “I’m sorry, will you be on my service today?” 

She’s hopeful, I can recognise it in her eyes, but we both know the answer. “I’m leaving you in the hands of my trainee, but I’ll keep a close eye on him and you. Your father wants me. Not sure why.” I inform Anastasia, placing my cup of coffee down before I kneel before her, “Maybe tonight I’ll make it to bed,” I smile up at her, taking one of her heeled shoes and sliding it on her foot. 

Anastasia sighs, “I hope so, I’m tired of sleeping alone.” 

I fiddle with the clasp of her shoe, struggling to clip the damn thing securely around her ankle, “At least you’re sleeping,” I mutter under my breath, not meaning to sound like a prick. Once the words slip from my mouth, I know she didn’t deserve the comment. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.” 

Anastasia shakes her head as she leans back on her elbows, waiting for me to clasp her other shoe for her, “I’d be irritated too if I was you.” 

“Well, doesn’t mean I’m entitled to snarky comments with you.” I point out my own mistake. 

“I’ll remind you the next time we argue and you throw me snarky comments.” Anastasia chuckles. 

I roll my eyes before I stand to my feet. I tower over her before I place a hand on either side of her on the bed, gingerly lowering myself closer to her. “That doesn’t count,” I whisper, kissing her lips slowly and sweetly. 

My lips proceed to brush themselves against the delicacy of hers, teasing her for a brief moment. I take possession of her mouth, my lips syncing with hers, tongues colliding while her shameless hands investigate my body, one hand pressed to the back of my neck, the other travelling up and down my body, cunningly, undecided on what part she wants to devour more. 

I can’t help myself as I drag my lips from hers and begin to leave kisses down her neck, loving the sensation of her fevered skin and her breaths accelerating. Amid audacious hands striving to seize every inch she concedes, my own hands working their way to the hem of her dress, delicately gliding my warm hand gradually up the side of her leg, my fingers resting when I touch the lace hidden under her dress. I leisurely creep my agile fingers to fondle the lace line, delicately dipping my fingers around them, the bold caress of her tongue becoming further filled with passion, my fingers mildly teasing her with every graze over the lace. 

I move them to the side and before I can do anything, a knock at the door sounds. “Fuck,” I murmur with a heavy breath. 

“Harry,” she breathes, “Please.” 

“I can’t explain this to the King on why I am late, I need my job.” 

Anastasia huffs and sits up, adjusting her dress as I move away from her, “You can afford racehorses, I think you’d be fine.” 

“Without a job, I could never afford your lifestyle,” I respond. 

I might be able to afford racehorses and a few other things; I am not grappling for money, but it doesn’t mean I can leave my job. I make great money with what I do, I know it won’t ever be enough to buy some of the things Anastasia has, but I can afford to look after both of us with what I have… As long as I have a job. 

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

 I roll my eyes with a sigh, “I have to go, start looking for a wedding dress.” 

“I spent most of the flight over here looking while you were asleep. You know, we aren’t too far from Skopelos.” Anastasia points out, reminding me of her comment in my mother’s garden when she wanted to elope and move to Skopelos.

“We are very far,” I chuckle.

“So we aren’t eloping to Skopelos?” Anastasia grins while I adjust my shirt and tie. 

I shake my head, “Sorry, can’t make it happen.”

I can’t make it happen, it did cross my mind to endeavour to take a few hours to go elope, but the itinerary doesn’t give us enough time. 

“Can we talk about our wedding?” 

“We aren’t eloping in Skopelos, but yes, when I’m not on your father’s service, goodbye before he kills me.” I step to where I left my coffee, cupping it in my hand as I wander towards the hotel door. I need to walk out before I end up hovering over her again. 

I step out of Anna’s room where Oliver and Matthew stare at me with their pockets in their hands, “She is well aware of the protocol,” I inform them both, keeping up the charade. Matthew hides his smirk as he clears his throat and nods. I should probably be more careful about how I handle things with the new guy, I’m not sure whether he can be trusted or not, and since he’s on my service, I need to have excuses for why I’m around Anna when I technically don’t need to be. I’ll be glad when we aren’t having to hide and tiptoe around everybody, but I have this feeling that things won’t change soon. 

“Harry, the King is ready for you to escort him to the car. Oliver, you’re with the Princess. I’ll be watching you both and scouring the boat.” Matthew informs Oliver and me, keeping a stern glare towards Oliver. It’s not the easiest to train someone when I’m having to be on someone else’s service, but I’ll do my best to watch him from afar and keep an eye on him. Surely, he can manage a few hours while we are all together. 

I nod my head and begin to wander down the carpeted hallway, enjoying my last few moments of silence and coffee before I’m thrown into the hectic world of watching over the King. 

♔♔♔

I stand beside the King, examining each person who shakes his hand, one immediately catching my attention. I take note as his eyes shift from the king to me, following my suit jacket and resting at my waistband. He can be gazing at one of two things, and I sure as hope he’s looking at, or for, the pistol that I have hidden in my waistband but not where it can be seen. I stare the man down and he pretends to stare innocently in another direction. I continue to stare him down until the King decides to move forward, moving to another area of the boat with one of the few men he has been talking to. 

I accompany the king around on the tour of this navy boat, not impressed with the boat itself, more so interested in why there’s a meeting with leaders on a retired navy boat. This has to be the most pointless and uninteresting reveal that I have had to attend. I don’t understand why this was on the itinerary or even why Anastasia came but the Queen was able to stay at the hotel.  

The King’s conversations have been kept very hushed, not even I can listen in too much, for some reason, the King doesn’t want me hearing and he is doing everything possible to keep me in the dark when it comes to the conversations taking place. At least he isn’t running off on me like he has a few times. I am surprised he hasn’t forced me to stay in a corner while he discusses affairs with these men. I chew on the corner of my mouth, noticing that Anna and Oliver are nowhere around me. I side-eye towards Matthew, looking towards him for instructions or some sort of update. He knows my look when I want an update on Anastasia. It takes Matthew a moment to catch my stare before I hear him come through my earpiece. 

“You have a relentless stare. She is fine, Oliver is downstairs with her. Watch the man in front of you, he’s pacing,” Matthew instructs, forcing my attention to go towards the man who already has an eye on me. I mentally sigh, reminding myself that deep down, I love my job. 

With a swift moment to spare, I glance at my phone— no signal. It hits me. This meeting is happening off the grid, there’s nothing to track us besides the tender boats that we took out here and it also means no unwanted people can listen in on conversations. 

“Harry.” The king grasps my attention, pulling me to the side once one of his conversations is dismissed. “This isn’t the unveiling of an old boat like I thought, get Anna out. Leave my service and take her to the hotel.” The King instructs, catching me off guard for a moment.

Just a little ago, Matthew informed me Anastasia was fine. I am not sure what has altered, I can only imagine that the King has picked up on how these men he is engaging with don’t appear to have great intentions. No government officials or royals have ever looked me up and down in search of any weapon I may have on my person. I have never been watched by multiple people as I have today. Things don’t add up, things haven’t added up from the start.

I waste no time following my orders. I discreetly leave the king and radio into Matthew, attempting to explain the orders in code in case anyone is listening to me and observing me. 

I weave in and out of areas of the boat, thanking god for my photographic memory, this ship is a maze in itself.

I discover Oliver who is guarding Anastasia. I stand beside him, “Go to Matthew, don’t speak to anyone, understand?” I mutter loud enough for the two of us to hear. He glances over at me with furrowed brows, confused and wanting to question me. I don’t blame him, he’s new and has no clue what’s happening, he needs an explanation but not right now. “Go,” I instruct firmly. I trump him, and if he can’t listen to me and take my instructions in situations, he doesn’t need to be apart of our travel team. I don’t need anyone to question my authority or my instructions when on duty. I despise travelling as it is, I don’t need others to make it more difficult. Matthew and I have a system, we know what to do in situations and we know how to communicate; Matthew trusts me and knows me. I require Oliver to listen and learn. 

Oliver steps away and walks off, leaving me with Anna who has three officials talking with her. I heavily sigh as I think for a moment, needing a way to lure her away from her conversation. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” I begin with half a smile as the men stare me down like I have interrupted a presidential speech. “But I was asked to check on you, your father knows how you are on boats.” 

“Uh— not the best.” 

“Princess, would you like to get some air?” I suggest, trying my best not to tip anyone off that she’s getting off the boat. I don’t trust anyone on this damn thing and her father shouldn’t have put any of us in this position. 

Anastasia nods and excuses herself from the three men. 

Without a word, I begin to escort Anna through the boat. I don’t say a word and she continues to walk beside me, allowing me to lead the way. This will be the last time I work on a damn boat that has too many areas to keep track of. I can’t watch my back and lead her to an exit at the same time. I need a damn map. We are stopped by two men, one of them being the one that was searching for my pistol. “Princess Anastasia, I haven’t had a chance to talk to you,” he grins ear to ear, “I hear you’ll be taking over the monarchy soon, or is it all rumour?” 

Anastasia politely smiles and shakes her head, “That’s not up to me to decide. It was nice seeing you.” 

“Where are you going?” He questions, blocking us from walking further.

Nosy. I see. I don’t like him. There’s something about him that is far from charming. Before Anastasia can answer, I begin to speak. “She needs some air.” 

“I’ll join you.” 

“No need to join, just a bit of motion sickness.” 

The man stares at for a moment, testing my patients. “You can barely feel the boat move.” 

I clench my jaw with icy content, taking a breath and stopping myself from escalating matters and shoving him against the wall. One step closer and I might just have to put my hands on him. “She’s sensitive,” I respond, placing an arm around her, forcing my way between the two men and leading her away. 

I finally make it to the outside and onto the deck of the boat, relieved more than ever.

I tenderly tug on Anastasia, stopping her from walking. I can’t turn around to see if we are being watched, it would be too obvious. Anna turns to gaze at me, “Anna, look discreetly over to my left, is anyone watching?” 

“Yes.” 

“Fuck,” I mutter before letting out a heavy sigh. “One person?” 

“Yes.” 

I tilt my head to my left, “Eagle, I’m being watched. Be Careful. Send me Eaglet.” I radio into Matthew in code. If we are being watched, we are being listened to as well. It’s a no brainer. 

Getting Anastasia out of here without issues is proving harder than I had anticipated, the slightest tip-off to anyone that we know something is happening could potentially make things worse. We need to get Anastasia and her father off this boat promptly and subtly.

“Harry, what’s happening?” 

I shake my head, not wanting to answer her question, signalling for her to stay quiet for a moment as I listen to what Matthew is striving to tell me. 

“I can’t hear you, I have interference,” I respond, carefully peering over my shoulder to see where the watchers are. “Eagle, come in?” 

Matthew responds but I can’t understand him, it’s like static on an old radio, and pierces my ears. It’s the sickening screech of an AM radio where it gives you a headache for a split second and makes you reconsider ever wanting to listen to the radio again. Matthew attempts again to get through to me, but the screeching pitch causes me to take my earpiece out. 

Something's not right. 

I check my pockets and subtly pet myself down, looking to feel for any sort of difference within my suit jacket, although highly unlikely I’m to discover anything. 

Anastasia stares at me, her hand pressed to the railing of the boat while I take my jacket off and shake it out. Nothing. 

I take notice of her for a moment, taking my attention away from my search, “You okay? Motion sickness isn’t kicking in is it?” 

Anastasia shakes her head, “I’m fine, you’re making me anxious here.”

I slide my jacket back up my arm and I step forward, closing the space between Anastasia and I. “Don’t say a word, I’m just checking something,” I whisper in her ear as softly as I possibly can, gently pressing my hands behind her, feeling every inch of her back— nothing. There’s nothing on her back. I carefully slip my hand into her jacket pocket, grasping the small circular device between my fingers. 

I discreetly remove the small device from her pocket and I lean over her to drop it into the water. “You were bugged,” I inform her, not too pleased with how the events of the day are taking place. Oliver shouldn’t have let anyone close enough to her for her to be bugged. “I’m trying to get you off the boat, this was meant to be some unveiling of an old ship, but it has turned into… how do I put this…” I begin, unsure of how to explain to her that some shady things are happening, “Just... just know I need to get you off the boat, okay?” I mutter, glancing around in an attempt to find something to help me figure out what the hell I’m meant to do. 

There’s a reason why I sought to tell the King being on a boat with foreign leaders and God knows who, was a dangerous idea, but he refused to listen to me. 

Sometimes I wonder why I stay in my position of job, life would be simpler if I quit my job. I could find something less bothersome. Special intelligence is only riveting when the king listens or when Anastasia isn’t in harm's way. 

“Protocol?” She whispers, her voice breaking as her eyes grow wide, the sensation of danger settling in. 

I nod my head, “Don’t panic, I’ll think of something.” 

“How? We’re stuck on a boat and—“ She’s spiralling, I can see it in her eyes that she’s beginning to panic and mentally think of scenarios that could occur. 

This is the part I loathe. 

“Anna, darling,” I kindly cut off her, “Let me do my job and worry, just trust me. I’m trained for this.” I remind her of my duty, at the moment I’m not her fiancée, I’m her bodyguard that has her life in his hands. I’m the one who is trained to take a bullet for her, I do it because it’s my job, but also because I’m madly in love with her. 

“Trained to get me off a boat in the middle of a volcano?” Anastasia questions, pointing out the location of the boat. 

“Actually, a water-filled caldera is what it’s called.” I correct her, not knowing how to handle the situation besides using a sense of humour. 

“Harry.” 

I heavily sigh and my eyes catch a glimpse of the distance between the boat and the shoreline, “You can swim, right?” 

“Yes?” 

“You might have to.” I flick my head towards the water, causing Anastasia to stare at me. 

“This isn’t funny.” 

She’s going to kill me. But if it comes down to it, I need to know that she understands that she might have to take the plunge. 

“It’s the last resort, but uh… it might have to happen,” I respond, “I’ll get you off, one way or another.” 

“Why can’t we just keep the peace and stay until we’re meant to get off?” 

“Because this doesn’t seem like a peaceful ending, just stay with me, okay?” 

“What do these people want?” 

“Sweetheart, I don’t know. I don’t have many answers. Come with me.” I mutter, beginning to get frustrated, but not with her. I’m frustrated that we are put in this situation, I’m frustrated that the king ignored the red flags that Matthew and I expressed, I’m frustrated that because of the King's ignorance and determination, we are in a mess that I’m not sure we can get everyone out of. 

The people on this boat are not here for a grand tour of an old navy boat that has come back to life, this isn’t a celebration or a coming of a union, this is a nightmare, a nightmare that could have been prevented. 

I should have listened to my instincts and told Anna to stay at the hotel, I should have done the thorough background check on each member, but the King had me occupied running errands with him and meeting with other leaders. He managed to direct my attention away from where it needed to be, he created his destiny with this mess and he’ll have to reap what he has sowed. 

I follow the edge of the railing and Oliver finally comes into view, stepping out of one of the doors. Anna and I make our way towards him and I waste no time with barking orders. 

“Get her off the boat,” I instruct, gesturing towards Anna.

Oliver shakes his head, “I can’t, there is no way off, we are all being watched. The next Tender isn’t for another hour.” Oliver responds, looking at me for answers that I don’t have. Part of me feels bad for him, his first trip and attempt at being a part of our team and he has been thrown into this monstrosity. 

“Get her off the boat or keep her safe for an hour.” 

“How?” 

“Get creative, I don’t care if you go through the galley, keep her safe.” 

“What’s the galley?” Oliver questions. 

“For christ sake,” I shake my head, surely he isn’t this dense. “Either get her off the boat or keep her safe for an hour. Keep her safe. If anything happens to her, I will personally kill you, got it?”

Oliver nods his head, his eyes wide as he nervously peers around. I can’t believe I am leaving her with him, but I have no choice, I know I need to get back to the King, he is my priority at the moment, I am on his service, I have Anna somewhat safe, I have to do this. 

I turn towards Anastasia and I lean closer to her, “I love you, take my jacket, there’s a spare in the inside breast pocket.” I whisper in her ear before I slide my jacket down my arms. Anastasia takes her jacket off and I take her jacket and give her a small smile before I throw it overboard. 

She stares at me with the eyes of daggers, and as much as I wish I could laugh, now is not the time to let my guard down. There was already one bug in her jacket, there could be more. I slide my jacket up her arms while she huffs, a clear indication that she is far from pleased with me. Right now, pleasing her isn’t a part of my job description, she will have to get over it.

I kiss her on the cheek before I look towards Oliver, “I’m serious, if anything happens to her—“ 

“I get it, you’ll kill me,” Oliver nods his head. 

I don’t want to leave her with him, but I know I’ve given her enough hints and tips over the years for her to figure out ways to keep safe if Oliver fails. All I can do is pray that nothing happens to her. 

I march away from the two of them and I begin to make my way to the men who have been watching. I climb the stairs and disregard them as I walk past them. I feel their eyes burn into my back but I don’t dare turn around. I keep moving forward. I have bigger fish to fry. 

I walk the different passageways of the ship, striving to locate Matthew and the King. I can’t get any response from the radio and there’s no cell service for me to track any phones, all I can do is rely on memory for how the ship is built. 

“Where’s the princess?” I’m distracted from my search and I stop in my tracks. I turn around to face the same man who was trying to look for my concealed pistol. 

“Why?” 

“She’s meant to be in a meeting.” 

“She’s unwell and won’t be attending the meeting,” I respond. 

“Where is she?” He’s determined to get his hands on her from the sounds of things, and I’m not okay with it. 

I lift my shoulders into a shrug, “Don’t know, but do you know where the King is? I assume his meeting is where hers is meant to be as well?” I’m somewhat being a smartass. There’s no way in hell anyone is going to tell me where the king is, everyone is shady. The man stares at me in an attempt to assert dominance. 

I heavily sigh and reach behind my hip where my pistol is. I use my left arm to push the man against the wall before my right-hand holds the barrel of my pistol to his neck. “Tell me where the king is and don’t cat and mouse me. I’m not in the mood.” 

The man gulps, his life perhaps flashing before his eyes as he begins to stutter, “I-I—“ 

“Spit it out. Where are they?” I demand.

“Upper deck near the upper deck escape hatch, there’s a room, they’re there.” 

With my pistol in position against his skin, I use my other hand to promptly search him, finding his pistol and shoving it where I keep mine when it isn’t in my hand. 

“Lead the way.” I instruct, pulling him away from the side of the wall and pushing him in front of me, keeping the gun to his back, “Don’t try any funny business.” I forewarn, pushing him to start leading to where I need to go. 

♔♔♔

I cough out the portion of seawater I managed to inhale as I eventually manage to get to the shore, pushing myself to get a little further before I give myself a break, collapsing to the sand. I glance to my side and Matthew and the King are doing the same, all of us coughing out salty water. My lungs burn from the salty intake and my body aches from the long-drawn swim and the bitter coldness of the Aegean sea.

I take a few deep breaths, “Everyone okay?” I cough while the King assists me to my feet. 

“Ye’ a fuckin’ asshole,” The King murmurs.

I glance at him, moving my arm into an L formation and holding it with my other hand, “I guess that is code for thankyou,” I respond, trying not to lean on the King as we both move away from the water but I can’t help it. 

All three of us sit on the sand and take the moment to fully catch our breath back and rest what little strength we have left from fighting the currents. We sit in silence, nothing but the crashing of the waves echoing between us. I stare out into the water, keeping an eye on the navy ship we left behind, all we can see of it is the lights of the boat. We left the vessel at dusk and at nightfall, we have made it. 

With heavy breaths, I think about the events that have transpired. 

I stared at the king as he scowled at me, not wanting to take my instructions for the hundredth time since we landed here in Greece. “Sir, if you do not jump, they will kill all three of us, jump.” I raised my voice towards the King who was contemplating whether jumping was the best option. At that point, it was the only option. 

When I was lead to the king and Matthew, I encountered Matthew being held at gunpoint and the King tied up. I don’t know what lead the two of them to that point, but I do know that everyone on this boat is against us. No amount of training can prepare you for the moment you have to fire your pistol to save not just the King but also the head of security. No amount of training prepares you for the sight I walked into and created. Untying the king was easy, getting all of us out and away from the other members on the boat, not so much. I heard a gunshot and my eyes widened, but none of us was hit, the shot came from another area of the boat. I held my breath for a moment, hoping and praying that Anastasia managed to get off the boat. “Get up, let’s go!” I commanded, hauling the King to his feet and shooting a glare towards Matthew, requiring his direction. From that moment, it is mostly a blur. Everything happened quickly. 

I glanced around, taking note that nobody had yet to follow us to the point in the boat where we were at, but it was only a matter of time before we were discovered. “Sir, you have to jump, we need to get off,” I commanded again, driving him closer to the edge. 

A gunshot fired and for a split second, my world froze, my breath hitched in my throat and I looked behind me. I disregarded the King and pushed him into the water, giving him no option. It was and still is my job to take a bullet for him and keep him safe, no matter what it takes. 

“They were going to kill us, weren’t they?” The King questions, taking me from my thoughts and breaking the silence between us, the realisation of what happened finally settling in with him. 

I nod my head, “Anna,” I breathe out, suddenly becoming alert with the fact I have no earthly idea on where she is. 

The King punches my shoulder, causing extreme pain to shoot through me so severely that it makes me want to throw up. “You were in charge of her, don’t you dare tell me you don’t know where the fuck she is.” 

I wince, slamming my eyes shut and I bow my head, trying to catch my breath back as it feels like I have had the wind knocked out of me, “Matthew,” I cough, “Where’s Anna?” 

“Fuck mate, I didn’t put a full swing behind the punch.” The King positions himself in front of me, Matthew inching closer. The king wastes no time with unbuttoning my button-down, trying to move the material to get a look at my shoulder. 

I look past him and glance towards Matthew, “Find, Anna,” I instruct. 

“Harry, how the fuck did you swim?” The King questions with wide eyes. 

I shake my head, not concerned about myself, I did my job, I got us all to safety. “Find your daughter, I left her with Oliver.” She wasn’t on my service, I did my job as security but I failed as her fiancee. “Everything is wet, we can’t call,” I mutter, using my good hand in an attempt to reach into my pocket, unfortunately realising that there is no way my phone or radio will work. 

“Harry, she is fine. She got off,” Matthew informs me while the King runs his finger over my collarbone, causing me to flinch once he reaches the corner of my shoulder. 

Thank God she is okay. I don’t think I could have ever forgiven myself if I had of left a dangerous situation meanwhile she was still on the boat. I should have stopped to think before following Matthew and the King with swimming to shore. I should have double-checked. I a notorious for double-checking but this time, I failed. I failed on many levels. 

“What did you do?” I look at the King, wanting answers in an attempt to ignore the throbbing pain I am feeling and have been feeling since the boat. 

The King stares at me for a moment, his lips curling into icy contempt. He wants to lie to me, but he can’t think of anything plausible. “Don’t lie to me,” I continue with a heavy breath, my eyes and body burning. I know I am overstepping my job description, but if I can dodge bullets and swim for my life, I can ask for an explanation for what the hell is happening. 

The King nods his head, bowing it in defeat, “Ever love someone so much you’d do anything for them?”

I nod my head, knowing all too well what it is like to love someone so much you would do anything for them. I would walk to the ends of the earth for Anastasia, I would wholeheartedly do anything for her, no matter the cost. Of course, I cannot tell the King that that ‘someone’ is his daughter, although, I wish I could. 

“They saved my wife. When I first married my wife, a terrible accident happened, Harry, she was dying in my arms. They saved her, I vowed to do anything in return, and from that night, I have had a debt to pay.” 

“Who is they?” Matthew quickly questions. 

“The Ace’s,” The King whispers the name, almost too scared to speak of the name too loudly. 

I grow withdrawn for a moment, trying to figure out who he is talking about, then it hits me. “No,” I breathe out, putting the pieces together. 

“Henry’s family saved my wife. When Henry was born, they forced my hand and made me promise he would one day be King and have a higher royal title than what he was born with. I paid them for years but the money isn’t enough. They want his title, they want the estates, everything, they want it all to cover their debts. I can’t give them what they want if Anastasia doesn’t marry him.” 

“So, they orchestrated all of this?” I ask, needing to understand things. 

The King nods his head, “A life for a life. They saved my wife and I haven’t kept up to my end of the deal so they want my life in return. The Ace’s have to be behind what happened, they are a big influence with who was on the boat, turned them against me.”

“All of this for a fucking crown?” I mutter. 

“Harry!” Matthew scolds. 

“It’s fine,” The King sighs, “Things were fine until that family started their ‘life for a life’, I didn’t want to include Anna in any of this but they forced it. It was either try and force their relationship or they…” The king trails off. 

“Or they what?” I quickly ask. I don’t think I want to know the rest of the sentence. I can read between the lines, but I need to hear things first hand. 

“They threatened to kill her.” 

I shake my head, not wanting to hear anything further, I have had enough for one day, “I’m ready to go to the hotel, it is fucking cold,” I mutter, forcing myself to my feet. 

“Mate, we need to get you to a hospital.” 

“I’m not going to a hospital, I want to go to the hotel. We need to get the fuck out of this place. It is safest for all of us to be back home.” 

“Let me take care of that, Harry, we need to—” Matthew begins but I cut him off. 

“I’m not going to a hospital here. If they catch any of us at the hospital, it is game over, that will be the first place the look expecting the King to have been shot.” 

♔♔♔ ♔♔♔ 

Matthew and I stand in the elevator, watching the golden numbers increase slowly. 

“Matthew, I want Anna on a plane back home.” 

“Harry—“ 

“Matthew,” I cut him off, not wanting to hear anything about the fact that it isn’t my decision since it is a royal duty, “We may not be married just yet but for the sake of this conversation, I want my wife on a plane back home, now.” 

“I’ll have the jet ready for her as soon as we wake her, we’re all getting out of here. The palace will be in lockdown, we will take them in through the tunnels before deciding where to keep them. I don’t think Buckingham is the safest.” 

I nod my head as the elevator doors open and we step out, discussing a few things as we walk down the hallway. 

I stand in front of Oliver and he looks me up and down, “Please don’t kill me.” 

I glare at him, unsure of why I’d kill him if he got Anna here safely, “She tripped, but she’s fine, barely even a scratch.” 

“It’s your lucky night, even if I wanted to kill you right now, I probably couldn’t,” I half chuckle, “Good job, Eaglet.” 

“Thank you. She has been asking for you every thirty-minutes… are you two a couple?” 

“No, I just do my job very well.” I dismiss his question about the relationship. I can’t tell him about the relationship. I don’t tell anyone about us, mainly because Anna doesn’t want everything to be exposed and right now, I don’t need everything to be exposed. With what’s happening with Henry and the intent of them murdering the king or Anna, I don’t think it would be a good idea for our relationship to be outted. I can only imagine the turmoil it’ll cause. Fuck. 

Matthew and I both step into Anastasia’s room. The light is on and she’s wrapped up in a blanket on the bed with the television on low. “Harry!” She’s quick to her feet. 

Matthew lets go of me and I open my arm for her, welcoming her with a partial hug. I kiss the top of her head, “Hey, darling.” 

Anastasia steps away from my half-hug, instantly looking me up and down, “You’re wet, and look like hell. What happened? Are you okay? Matthew, what happened?” 

“Princess, pack your things,” Matthew instructs and Anna looks towards me. 

“Sweetheart, just listen. Do you need help packing?” I offer, not wanting to have to explain everything to her right now. 

If I’m being quite honest, all I want to do right now is to lay down. 

“No, you’re not lifting a finger. You’re off duty until further notice.” 

“Helping my fiancée isn’t a duty,” I respond, nudging Matthew away from me as he attempts to help me to sit on the bed. 

I rest on the edge of the bed, disregarding my wet clothes for a moment. Matthew and Anna go withdrawn as I lay down, my eyes following them around the room while they gather all of Anastasia’s things. 

“Harry, do you need anything?” Anastasia softly challenges, looking over at me. 

“Morphine.” 

“Why are you not at A&E?” 

She’s not going to give up, she means well, I know, but I am the one that needs to worry, not her. “Anna, I’m fine. I’ll survive until we get home.” 

“That’s not for a few hours.” 

“My priority is getting you out of here.” 

I can’t say that I don’t care about the pain or myself, I do, the pain is excruciating, but either way, her safety is my priority. None of us are safe at the moment if we stay here, getting her and her family back home is the safest and most logical plan. 

“Harry, you need to be checked. Did you break something? Did you dislocate something? If we don’t pop it back in, you could need surgery and—“ 

“Anna,” I softly cut her off, “I am fine.” 

“You just asked for morphine.” 

“You’d want morphine too if you felt this pain. I’m alive, I’m not dying, I can wait for a better moment to go to a hospital where we won’t be watched. Jus’ pack your things, or do you need my help?” I question, slowly sitting up to face Anna. 

Anastasia shakes her head, “No, just lay there.” Anastasia instructs, beginning to help Matthew pack her items, leaving me to lay on the bed, resting my eyes in an attempt to relieve the pain. 

[novaviis]

What's Dick's relationship w Barry and Iris?

God their relationship is incredible, prepare for me to get emotional. 

So, Barry and Iris are basically Wally’s second parents. When things get rough at home, they’re the first people he goes to. And it’s not just  because they’re his Aunt and Uncle, but because they’re just genuinely good people. I mean they’re good people, they help without expecting anything in return whether it’s a place to crash for the night or advice or a meal because Mom just forgot to tell him she’d be out of town for a few days and God knows where Dad is. You can’t tell me that Wally wasn’t going to them constantly for advice before he came out, and especially after he came out when things got worse at home. 

Dick knows everything they’ve done for Wally, he’s seen it first hand over the years. Hell, half the time he and Wally hung out when they were kids, it was at Barry and Iris’ place. I’d like to think that over time, they come to mean the same thing to Dick. They remind him a lot of his parents, so it’s a little bittersweet, but they’re also giving him that stable environment that Bruce just… doesn’t always manage, even if he tries his best. On the field, Dick is someone that Barry trusts whole heartedly. Sometimes the rest of the League underestimates him, struggling to see past the excited nine year old he used to be, but Barry sees him for who he is now - one of the best. 

When Wally “dies”, Dick sort of avoids them for a while, because there are just too many memories and it’s painful. But at some point, he ends up on their porch in the middle of the night, drenched in rain, trying to keep it together, and the moment Iris opens the door he just falls apart. And it doesn’t matter that she’s pregnant and almost ready to pop and probably just wants to sleep, she takes him in and Barry gives him a hot drink and they sit him down and just listen  to his problems without trying to fix everything for him (nevermind the fact that they can’t fix the fact that Wally is gone). They just listen and understand. 

So when Wally is gone and he just needs someone to talk to, he goes to them. He can talk about Wally there, just reminisce about him without feeling like he’s going to break down. It’s therapeutic. It becomes a regular thing, not just when he’s upset and needs something from them. They invite him over for dinner sometimes, or he watches the twins for the night (and oh my god do the twins love him).

Then Wally gets back and obviously everyone is Euphoric. They keep up a sort of tradition of having dinner with Barry and Iris when they can, and honestly the best part about it is that it feels so normal. They’re just a normal family, having a normal family dinner with chicken and mashed potatoes and the apple pie that Dick made with salt instead of sugar and it’s not that funny Iris he did his best okay stop laughing. 

tl;dr dick’s relationship with barry and iris is…. very good. 

[mental-health-advice]

Submission from Sophocles

[tag as Sophocles] i hope this is okay to ask - i’ve been abused my entire life i have ©ptsd. but im concerned about what my ex was doing to me because everyone was saying that it wasnt a good sign but idk. she’s very short tempered and she would get extremely irritable over literally everything and she would take that out on me. if i didnt respond to her messages fast enough (LDR), she would get mad and say “whatever. bye”. and disappear for several hours. but if i did respond quick 1/?

Sophocles 2/? - if i did respond quick enough she would just keep saying never mind whenever i tried to ask about it so i chaned the subject and if i asked a question she would always ask me why do i ask a lot of questions because my questions would annoy her, and i annoyed her (she’s told me multiple times) but the only other option besides asking a question was just talking so i would try to talk about something that would cheer her up and she would only say that she doesnt care

[Sophocles] 3/? - she wasnt always *this* angry though. she is still quick to get annoyed though regardless. she would always call me dumb and weird and annoying for the questions i ask (im autistic. most of my questions were because i didnt understand something) some of them were just because i was interested in learning more about her. she admitted recently that she’s been distancing herself from me and when i asked why she wouldnt say anything about it.

Sophocles 4/? - she would always say that no one is there for her when i tell her everyday to make sure she knows how much i care. sometimes i would question if she loved me so i would ask her and she would only ask me what i think the answer is (yes or no) and if i said one or the other she would only say okay and nothing more. she rarely ever said that she loved me. she never asks about me anymore. she told me several months ago to tell her when i want to self harm so i did but she would never

Sophocles 5/5 - but whenever i told her about it she wouldnt say anything at all about it and i had to change the subject to keep the conversation going. and whenever im suicidal (often, but i usually never mention it) she would just say same, okay, or nothing at all. please help me. am i just over-reacting? am i too much? i dont know anymore. i dont want to be a burden

 Hey Sophocles,

It’s perfectly okay to ask about this! It sounds like your situation is very complicated. It makes sense that you would be struggling with this. I can assure you that you aren’t being a burden. Your reactions are perfectly understandable and justified. 

It sounds like your ex had some issues of her own to work through. from what you described, I agree, it doesn’t sound like a good sign.  I’ve come off of a similar relationship myself, so I feel like I can give you some advice from my experience.

My ex actually acted in a very similar way with messages. If I didn’t respond within three minutes, she would delete her messages a lot of the time. She’d respond with “nevermind, I just bother you”. I learned later that it came from very low self-esteem and being told by previous people that all of her ideas were dumb. I don’t know your ex, so I can’t say for sure that this is the case for her.

It sounds like almost anything you could say was annoying to her. That’s a really hard place to have a relationship from, it sounds very contentious. You shouldn’t have to be constantly guessing what is happening, or guessing how to react when someone seems to expect something from you. No one can read people’s minds, and acting like that’s a fair expectation is just not okay. It’s not realistic, and it creates toxic situations.

It’s not solely on you to keep the conversation going, or to support her, or to try to get her to see that you were there for her. If she makes fun of you for not understanding something, that’s really harmful behavior.

I know you feel like a burden in this situation, she’s very much acted like you are. However, you are going out of your way to help her, to try to accommodate her and go to her level and she is not making any changes. In fact, she’s being very hostile, and it’s only going to make your mental state worse.

I spent years, literally years, trying to help my ex. Trying to get her to see that I cared about her, that I wanted to know what was going on with her and support her in what she was doing. She didn’t hear it, no matter how many times I said it. I thought that maybe I was doing something wrong, that maybe I wasn’t saying it in the right way.

But it took a lot of therapy and a lot of talking to other people for me to realize that it wasn’t on me. She wasn’t willing to try to make changes, she wasn’t willing to try to help me help her. So I finally decided to leave her, because it wasn’t fair for me to continue being treated this way.

It still hurts, I’ll be honest. I still feel like I did something wrong. But I deserve to have someone who will make an effort for me, just as much as I make an effort for them. She wasn’t willing to do that, so I’ve moved on to spend more time with my current partner, who has shown me that he does care about me, and that he’s willing to put an effort in to love and support me.

What I would encourage you to do is to spend the time that you had been spending on her on helping yourself heal from the relationship. Put time into helping yourself find coping strategies for your self harm thoughts and suicidal feelings. That’ll help you get the support you need and feel more fulfilled in your life. I know it did for me.

I hope this can help you in some way, and I hope that you can find someone who treats you the way you deserve: with respect.

Much love,

Mel

[enaxii]

your love is in transit

so!! i wrote a thing. read it and my short notes here on ao3!

Summary: The other paladins and co. have to put up with Shiro's and Keith's pining.

It's agreed that both of them are idiots and are in love.

Warning for blood and head injury.

i. Lance 

When Lance thought that Shiro was a badass back at the Garrison, he wasn’t wrong. Shiro was a badass, completely capable of kicking their butts ten times over and look like the cool guy he was as he did it. Of course, existing in the same space as the Takashi Shirogane also meant that Lance learnt more about him than he ever could from cafeteria gossip and the maybe two conversations he had ever had with Shiro before this whole debacle.

(That is, if you call the general mess Lance had been capable of holding conversations. Poor Shiro just looked genuinely concerned when Lance hightailed out of the social interaction.)

Lance learnt that this guy liked kittens and mac & cheese and once accidentally broke the flight simulator. And then Lance also learnt that Shiro was absolutely and hopelessly in love. That was fine. In fact, Lance would have loved that Shiro had a crush. It could have been great. If Shiro had a huge crush on some hottie alien (like a certain Yellow Paladin and rock person), Lance would be his wingman and then get to make fun of him constantly and essentially make him a blushing mess.

It could have been fun.

But instead, Shiro had a crush on Keith. Keith, who also existed in this same space, who also lived with all of them. So everyone had to put up with the guy’s pining and open admiration constantly. If Lance had to hear one more sentence from Shiro about how great Keith looked after training, (and he didn’t. He just looked gross.) then Lance was going to pilot himself into the nearest star.

And that wasn’t the worst of it. Turns out, Keith also had a crush on Shiro. And two things they had in common was that they were the most oblivious people Lance had ever had the pleasure to meet.

Once, Lance walked into the training room as the duo were sparring. He came in just as Shiro managed to pin Keith to the floor, and the two just lay there, panting and sweating all over each other and generally being very icky. Of course, it was a typical Shiro and Keith thing, staring into each other’s eyes as they each considered their wreck of a love life, and then they saw Lance and sprang apart. Stammering, stuttering, spluttering, the whole trifecta, and the blushing idiots scattered.

Later on, Keith passed by Lance in the hallway, stopped, and in a very un-Keith like manner, sighed and said, “He’s just wonderful, isn’t he?”

Keith, who had that strange dreamy look in his eyes that Lance had never seen directed at anyone but Shiro (and thank god for that ). Keith, the glare-y, angry, edgy emo who will always bethe emo of the group no matter how much time had passed, had just swooned over Shiro like a highschooler .

The situation wouldn’t have been that bad if the two in question just admitted that they had a stupid crush. Earlier on this delicate situation, Lance had tried to tease them, in typical Lance-style.

Sidling up to Keith in the recreation room, Lance nudged him and asked, batting his eyelashes, “So, how’s your boyfriend?”

Then Keith turned around, and seeming the most confused he had ever been, and said, “What boyfriend?”

Lance spluttered, then. He had been expecting maybe an angry retort, a shove, not the cold hard knowledge that Keith didn’t even know he was in love.

“Nevermind!” Lance’s voice was at least an octave higher, a smile hastily slapped onto his face, then he fled from the room.

A week later, Lance tentatively tried out the same tactic on Shiro. He just stared at Lance, and ten minutes later, when Lance slowly got up and left, Shiro was still staring at the spot he had occupied on the sofa. Shiro didn’t come for dinner that night, and Lance just stabbed miserably at his dinner and contemplated the fact that he just broke a man.

God, the two were a wreck. They were a big, hot, mess, and honestly, it was the saddest thing Lance had ever seen.

(That wasn’t to say that Lance didn’t spend a few hours afterwards sniggering into his pillow.) 

ii. Pidge

Pidge had known both Shiro and Keith back before Voltron, before Kerberos. Their relationship had never been anything more than a passing greeting, so she learnt most of what she knew from Matt’s gripes. In their frequent correspondence, there would always be one section of his letters that was dedicated to talking about what stupid things those two had done between the last letter and this one. In all honesty, back then, Pidge had thought that Matt was making half of the stuff up. She reasoned that there was no way anyone could go through half of the things they did and still be so damn oblivious .

That was one of the rare times she was wrong.

A few days into their residence in the Castle-ship, during one of the training sessions, they decided to do more cardio than skills training, with Pidge on the treadmill (or the Altean equivalent of it) and the rest at the weights, with Hunk and Lance spotting for Shiro and Keith respectively. Pidge settled into a jog, and had truthfully been minding her own business. Gradually, the low grunts from the guys’ corner drew her attention. Squinting in their direction, Pidge almost fell off her treadmill.

Both of them had been pulling double the weights she last saw them attempt. There was obvious straining, and Hunk and Lance were pleading for them to stop. Simultaneously, they looked up at Pidge, expressions that of men with no more faith in the world.

It was drastic.

Pidge ditched the treadmill in favour of watching them with a sort of horrified fascination. What were they doing? Having a competition? Lance and Hunk had both given up by then, and were just attempting to keep both men from any serious harm. Pidge sat down by them, and that was when she realised, with that sinking feeling in her stomach, that the very scene before her was incredibly similar to something Matt had written to her before.

After training, Keith hobbling out of the room and Lance and Hunk electing to recover whatever bit of their sanity that they could, Shiro and Pidge were left alone. She was perched on the bench, sorting through some of her belongings she had brought along, and Shiro, bless him, looked the most distressed she had ever seen him in a while.

He leaned over her shoulder, brow drawn into a tight frown, and he said, “I don’t think I’m strong enough.”

Pidge actually fell off the bench.

“What? ”

Shiro looked even more anxious now.

“Didn’t you see how much Keith could lift? I don’t think I can beat that… He probably thinks I’m weak…!”

With that despairing conclusion, Shiro put his head in his hands, muttering darkly at himself.

Still collapsed on the floor, Pidge’s eyes grew large. Dismayed, she suddenly recalled one of the letters Matt sent (“Showing off, Pidge. They were showing off. They just kept doing heavier and heavier weights, it was ridiculous. The next day, I had to pull Keith out of self-defense because he pulled something and he refused to sit out. It was so painful to watch, Pidge.”) and dimly, she realised that this was not going to be the only time it happened.

Pidge left Shiro alone in the training room to ponder his supposed shortcomings, going to collect her things and a first aid kit in a sort of daze.

It was intervention, she thought. As the only person equipped with the data to deal with this, she had to take charge of the situation.

Later, Pidge waited, stony-faced, in the infirmary. Just as she suspected, Keith showed up soon enough with a pulled muscle in his arm.

(Pidge decided, then, that Matt’s letters were a valuable source of information. If Matt managed to keep those two from killing themselves via ridiculous peacocking, Pidge would definitely be able to do that too. She hoped.) 

iii. Hunk

Hunk liked to believe that he would support his friends in whatever they did, especially in the gastric department. If they ever needed a chef to help with a romantic date, Hunk was the guy to call. There was no better reward for a chef than bringing someone together with his food.

Of course, when Shiro asked for some help to make chocolates for Valentine’s day (according to their space calendar, anyway), Hunk couldn’t turn him down. He already had a pretty good idea as to who the chocolates were for, and honestly, if Hunk had to put some weird mumbo-jumbo-space plant into the chocolates just to get them to confess already, he would do it. But Hunk was a chef of virtue, and he refrained from the small, dubious shelf in the corner of the kitchen.

Shiro, being Shiro, wanted to make the chocolates himself, with advice from Hunk. After hearing stories (from Keith) about how he managed to set off the fire alarm when making instant noodles, Hunk was less than certain that Shiro wouldn’t burn down the kitchen. With little difficulty, (it was his kitchen, afterall), Hunk got Shiro to agree to the role of a glorified assistant instead.

It took only a few hours, and covered in cocoa-powder-substitute and various other ingredients (that was mostly Shiro’s fault), Hunk was pretty satisfied with the final product. He tried his best to make it in accordance with what information that Shiro provided about Keith’s favourite chocolate. There was, unsurprisingly, a lot that Shiro had to say, and Hunk was relieved that he rejected his request to make it himself. If Shiro had tried to mix in every flavour, he probably wouldn’t have blown up just the kitchen.

After Shiro left in a giddy excitement, Hunk was halfway through his cleaning when Keith entered.

“Hunk. I need your help.”

“Uh-huh.” Hunk hummed from the other side of the kitchen, watching Keith pace from the corner of his eye.

“Shiro… he came out with chocolates.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You helped him make the chocolates.”

“Uh-huh.”

Keith stopped pacing, and Hunk straightened up, suddenly wary.

“I need your help.” Keith repeated, but this time, there was a dangerous glint in his eye.

At the end of the day, Hunk had never feared Keith more than he did in that moment. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy helping Keith, it was just that… Keith did a lot of backseat-cooking. Apparently, someone had to cook for Shiro back in the Garrison, with the aforementioned man not even trustable with a ladle. And Keith was terrifying at backseat-cooking. But that, Hunk could learn to manage. What he couldn’t manage, however, was how Keith probably put him through every recipe in the known universe at least twice. Hunk would set the plate, put down the garnish with a flourish, grinning excitedly, and Keith would squint at the dish, judging each and every individual particle.

Then he’d announce, brows drawn tight, “I don’t think Shiro would like that. Let’s try something else.”

"I don’t think Shiro would like that.”

Those words were going to appear in his nightmares from now on.

It wasn’t that Shiro wouldn’t like it. No, if the food had come from Keith, chances are, even if it was the most disgusting mash possible, Shiro would eat it. It was Keith , just Keith, wanting the best, and only the best, for Shiro. It was honestly pretty touching, if Hunk hadn’t been roped into selling his soul for it too.

After thoroughly running Hunk through most of the supplies on the ship, Keith slowed down, contemplatively regarding their very last dish.

Hunk held his breath, the last smatterings of his hope finally deciding to make an appearance.

“Yeah. I think he’ll like this.”

At last, the heavens have answered his prayers. His crops watered, his skin cleared. The nearest star had never seemed so bright before. Thank, fucking , god.

Keith took up the plate, humming distractedly, a content smile already settling on his face.

“Thanks, Hunk.”

“Mhm.” Was all the sound Hunk had the strength to muster.

The only thoughts on Hunk’s mind was to clean up the kitchen, figure out what to do with all the food, then get a relaxing bath that would preferably last an entire year. Hunk was considering what bubble soap the Castle-ship had when Keith jerked to a stop en route to the door.

“Shit. I forgot his allergies.”

All Hunk could do was collapse bonelessly on the floor and let out a weak groan.

(Hunk didn’t touch the kitchen for a whole month, much to the concern of everyone else on board, including Keith. On the bright side, the said man very much enjoyed the chocolates from an anonymous admirer.)

+1. Allura

It was supposed to be a diplomatic mission.

They weren’t supposed to be fighting their way to their lions. They weren’t supposed to have lost contact with Keith and Pidge. They weren’t supposed to be carrying Hunk, bleeding out and unconscious.

Shiro’s hand was lit up, sweeping through the enemies ahead as Lance shot at enemies from the back, the sharp sound of the rifle accompanying the consistent low hum of the Galra prosthetic.

The forest was all around them, enemies screaming out of the trees, swinging from above and below and everywhere, movements frenzied and foaming at the mouth. Skies dark and gloomy, with the trees blocking out whatever light that there could have been, Allura could barely see where they were going. The dim glow of Shiro’s hand did little in the thick of battle.

The trees thinned, with civilians and soldiers alike still throwing themselves at them, seeming to want nothing more but to smother them with bodies.

Lance’s arm was shaking, now. Allura could tell, watching his shots grow wider and wider, ricocheting off trees and stones in flashes of blue. Shiro’s movements were slowing too, the streak of purple pausing longer and longer between each slash. The strain of fighting for so long, for fighting so much was showing. It was a constant shower of dull green, the colour of the natives’ blood, staining the ground and their armour and their weapons. It was draining , watching as the people they liberated were killed by them themselves.

(“You can’t help us, paladins.” the old chief seemed so tired. A dribble of foam was trickling down, slowly. “This is the final results of the Galra’s experiments.” A knife flashed, and the chief took his own life.)

“Come on, come on. Almost there.”

Shiro’s voice filtered through her earpiece, words clipped and tense.

Static crackled, and then a tinny voice came through.

“-ello?! … -yone ther- … Allu-... Allura?!”

Allura’s eyes widened, bringing her hand to her earpiece.

“Pidge? Pidge, come in!”

Lance made a noise of exclamation, somewhat hopeful, and Shiro’s head shot back to face her for just a second.

"Oh, thank goodne-” static, “Where are you?”

“We’re coming up to the lions! Are you close?”

Buzz, “Yeah, I’m coming.”

Allura stopped, something cold dousing her stomach.

“Where’s Keith?”

Hiss, pause.

“He’s not with you?”

The forest cleared, and Shiro let out a cry of rage.

Keith was collapsed at the edge of the forest, and the natives closed in.

They didn’t even have time to react. At least, not for Allura and Lance. Shiro tore away from the group, faster than she had ever seen him move before. The Galra arm was a burning star, tearing through bodies and leaving splatters of bloods in a sickening rain.

“KEITH!”

A low moan cut through the dying shrieks around them.

“No, no, no !”

Keith’s head pressed close, and Shiro carried him, gentle. It was nothing like the fury he had been moments prior. Keith’s arm lolled at the side, spasming weakly. Allura had never seen him so small, so vulnerable, his lithe frame dwarfed by Shiro’s.

“Hurry!”

Shiro’s voice hissed through the mess, snapping Allura out of her shock. Lance was now the only person keeping the natives back, and already, so many were getting through the gaps.

“Lance! ”

A native sprung, his back turned -- Allura wouldn’t be able to make it to him on time -- and something green blipped through the air, wrapping around the native and pulling him to the ground. Pidge came running full pelt from the forest, screaming, “ Go, go, go, go!” , and the Black Lion took to the skies. Hunk was unconscious -- he couldn’t pilot his lion -- and Allura piled into Green, heaving Hunk onto the seats in the back. Pidge slammed on full throttle -- Blue took off and dragged her claws into Yellow, Green into Red, lifting off with the inactive lions -- and they were gone.

Into space, where the castle hovered.

(Allura couldn’t see the Black Lion.)

+2. Coran

Black pelted into the hanger, bringing with it a blast of wind. The landing was rushed, sloppy and dangerous, and the jaw was opened, Shiro running out as fast as he could without jostling the precious person he carried. Coran had received the hail just half a dobash earlier, a frantic mess of a man screaming at him to prepare a pod.

“Give him to me.”

Shiro’s arms tightened around Keith’s body, protectively, and immediately, Coran knew that his request was not a welcome one.

“I can carry him. Until the infirmary.”

There were no more arguments -- no time for arguments. Keith’s life faded with every second they wasted.

Coran gave a sharp nod and as fast as they could, they made their way to the infirmary. Shiro’s expression was tight the entire journey, twisting with pain at every groan Keith was still conscious enough to let escape. It was only later, when the pod closed over Keith’s now still form that he let himself collapse onto the floor, a sob tearing itself out from behind his hands.

“Shiro…?” Coran hated this. He hated how useless he felt, watching the man break down before him, watching Keith suspended in the pod, wounds still raw and littered around his body.

There was a pause, and Shiro seemed to draw himself together enough to respond, voice rough.

“Please, Coran. I… Just give me a moment.”

The “alone” wasn’t tacked on at the end, but Coran knew all the same.

“Alright, Number 1.”

Coran hesitated by the door, watching as Shiro scrubbed his face hard, yet more tears slipping down his face before he could stop it. It was then that he realised. He had never seen Shiro cry before.

A light buzz in his earpiece informed him that the other lions had returned. Allura informed him that Hunk had woken up, woozy but not in dire need of attention.

“Just some antiseptic, bandages, it’ll be fine. He says it’s not that painful, he just got hit pretty hard on his head.”

Pause, and quietly, “How’s Keith?”

Coran closed the door to the infirmary, catching one last glimpse of the Paladin suspended in the pod.

“Alive, at least.”

There was a heavy sigh.

“It’s the best we can hope for.”

The conversation stilted, and Coran made his way up, opting to grab the spare first aid kit he had in his room instead of disturbing Shiro in the infirmary. The door to the control room opened with a soft hiss, and Coran could feel the stifling tension and apprehension that had settled in the room like grime.

Only Hunk and Allura were there, both looking exhausted, Allura especially so, mouth set into a thin line. They were still wearing their paladin armour, the splotches of green and the occasional red making Coran wince.

He took a moment to clear his head.

"Hunk? Could you follow me?”

Allura helped him to his feet, and fell in step beside Coran as they left the control room. The walk to the nearest bathroom was in silence, Allura’s breathing sounding strangely heavy and Hunk barely sounding like he was breathing at all.

Eventually, when the water in the sink ran clear instead of pink, eventually, when white bandages were wrapped around Hunk’s head, eventually, when Hunk and Allura left the moment they could, Coran was alone, staring at the few drops of watery blood that had splashed onto the counter of the sink.

He sat at the edge of the bed of the room they were in, sitting there even as the lights dimmed automatically, contemplating the paladins. How broken they had all looked. How the fire of hope, fuelled by the thought of freedom for another planet, had become so frail, the fuel becoming the cause of its extinguishment. It was a terrible look on them, eyes empty, words short, smile false. It wrenched at Coran’s heart, reminding him too much of Alfor’s last days, when his hope was dying, his friends killed by the one he would have trusted with his life.

He contemplated Keith in the cryopod, thankfully asleep and pain free. He contemplated Shiro, seated outside the cryopod, probably unwilling to move until Keith was fully recovered and out of the pod.

He sat there, and he thought.

(He thought of the muffled cries he had heard, buried into Shiro’s hands and into Coran’s mind.)

+3/iv. Matt

When Coran called, quietly requesting that he come to the Castle-ship, for a moment there, Matt had feared the worst.

There was an explanation, Coran’s not-smile strained and weary. It was then that Matt finally saw him past his wacky exterior, someone whose body and mind had finally caught up on its 10,000 years. Even though Coran had given him a choice, the silent plea in his voice was clear.

Besides, it was not like Matt could just abandon a friend.

Only Pidge came down to greet him, shut-off and head down. There was barely a pause before Matt swept her into a hug, feeling his heart shake as Pidge’s body did.

“God… Oh god, Matt…”

She just kept saying that, over and over and over, her voice barely a murmur in his ears.

What could he say? That it was fine? Because it wasn’t. Not a single part of this was fine. Matt searched for words, words that he hated to say, words that he should have known over the few short years he had spent with the rebels. But all of them seemed so cold, nothing seemed to fit what he had to say to his sister. So he just hugged her, as tight as he could, convince her that she was safe in his arms like how he used to do when she had nightmares as a child. She was, in the end, no matter how far or wide she travelled, how many battles she fought, still a child.

Eventually, Pidge rubbed at her eyes. Her voice seemed to gain a tone of strength that had been so thoroughly broken down before.

“We should… go. To the infirmary. The others are there.”

All the way down, Pidge didn’t quite seem like the feisty ball of energy that he had left on Earth before Kerberos, didn’t seem like the confident fighter he had met on the asteroid base. She seemed like a frightened child who had finally seen the horrors of war, just that little more subdued, but at least, her cheer seemed to be slowly returning.

The door to the infirmary approached. All at once, the fears from when Coran called, the trepidation from the trip to the castle, the anxiety from the walk down to this very door, it seemed to suddenly collate into one big lump that sat uneasily in his stomach.

Pidge opened the door, and everyone in the room looked up. Paused in the middle of what they were doing, all eyes on Matt as he entered. The team was scattered around the room, Lance slouched over in his chair, Hunk pacing back and forth, and Allura and Coran discussing something in low tones. Slowly, Lance got up, hands shoved into his pockets.

“Matt. It’s nice to see you again.”

His smile was barely a ghost of what it had been the last time Matt saw Lance.

The rest of the people replied the same, except for Shiro, sat before Keith’s pod. Matt realised then, that he hadn’t even looked up when he entered.

Coran came over to Matt, seeming dead on his feet with fatigue of a kind that wasn’t physical.

“He’s been there since Keith entered the cryopod. Only left once to change out his armour and that was after hours of persuasion. I… tried to convince him to eat something, but some fruits had been the only thing he’s accepted.”

Matt nodded, looking away to take a glance at Shiro. It seemed like the man hadn’t moved a muscle, watching over Keith’s body for any sign of movement. And Keith… in the pod, he almost looked peaceful, his face at ease in a way that Matt had never seen before, not back in the Garrison, and definitely not ever since then.

It was strangely ironic that the most at peace Keith ever was, was when he was recovering from the brink of death.

Unbidden, Matt found himself taking a seat next to Shiro. Shiro hadn’t even seemed relaxed when Matt entered the room, and now he tensed even more when Matt sat down beside him.

“Shiro…”

“Matt.”

The voice that came back at him, spread thin and pulled tight, was more like a growl. It was only one word, only his name, the anger not even aimed at him , but it still made Matt shiver, a chill creeping down his body.

With no response forthcoming, Shiro turned to look at Matt, and suddenly, Coran’s comments became that much more real.

Dark rings beneath bloodshot eyes. Hair a mess like someone had ran his fingers through them in frustration, gripped them, pulled at them. His body shaking, just a little, like it had been pushed to its limits, craving sleep but not receiving it.

“Keith will be out soon. Just… Just a few more minutes.”

He sounded so tired, so very tired .

Wordlessly, Matt opened his arms. Shiro paused, then he sank into them, trembling as tears tried to escape, falling and falling. His tears were falling, Shiro was falling, the whole team was falling.

Matt recalled, that day, in the Garrison, when the news came that Shiro’s grandfather had died. A house fire, they said. Everything had been burnt to nothing. His things, his memories, his grandfather’s corpse. Right then, too, Shiro had cried, silently, also shuddering in his arms. Keith had been on the other side, that time, arms also awkwardly wrapped as far around them both as he could. And they had stayed there, on the rooftop, till the sun set.

The pod opened with a hiss.

Shiro was immediately up, tearing himself away. The rest of the team seemed to teleport to the pod, all immediately crowding around. Keith stumbled out, eyes closed, then suddenly he snapped into full wakefulness, eyes open and fearful.

“Easy, Keith. You’re safe.”

Shiro’s words were a murmur, as so many hands reached out to steady him.

The fear subsided, but the confusion remained.

“S-Shiro? Guys? What- where- where am I?”

Shiro guided Keith to one of the chairs the team had been occupying just moments prior, the rest of them following like lost sheep.

“The infirmary.”

Keith visibly paused, sorting through the mess his head must be.

“The… infirmary.”

Coran spoke up, then.

“Yes, you were out for quite a while. Do you remember what happened?”

“I... Yeah, I remember. Most of it. At least, I remember making it to where the lions were, and then...”

Keith’s face became pinched, and he grew silent.

“We should get some food in you.” Coran suggested when it became clear that Keith wasn’t saying anything else.

He nodded, but it seemed more like reflex than anything else. His eyes were still distant, as if going through his brain and trying to figure out what happened afterwards.

Shiro helped Keith stumble to his feet. Matt noticed Shiro wrap his arm protectively around Keith’s side, as if fearing that something would come from space, tear through the castle, and take Keith away from him. The fear was understandable, something almost did.

Outside the mess hall, everyone paused, and came to a silent agreement.

Coran clapped a hand on Shiro’s arm, ignoring how he jumped.

“We’ll let the two of you get some time together. Both of you probably have a lot to talk about!”

The others added their various affirmations, clamouring and nodding.

Shiro’s eyes softened for the first time that day, and Keith managed to summon a smile from somewhere from the depths of his soul.

“Thank you.”

They turned, they walked towards the mess hall-

Shiro tripped.

Keith, by all means, shouldn’t have had the strength to catch Shiro after just coming out of the cryopod, woozy and confused. And he didn’t. Keith managed to get his arms around Shiro, but he couldn’t hold him there, and together, the two crashed to the floor.

It was straight out of a cliche.

They fell, Shiro twisting around and Keith falling straight down, both eyes wide-

And their lips met.

(Afterwards, when they didn’t scramble off each other, when Shiro’s hand moved to properly hold Keith close, when their kiss just kept on going, everyone escaped to the living room, leaving the two alone on the floor outside the mess hall. At last, there were tears of joy and celebration, the most lively they had all been in a long, long, time, as the two pining idiots finally got themselves together via faceplanting on each other.

 In the midst of it all, Pidge went up to Matt and demanded to know how he had survived the Garrison with the two of them. Very honestly, he told her that he didn’t.)

[fayecallasdatingblog]

How to Be a Good Girlfriend: What Does It Mean and How to Do It Right

So now that you’re in a happy relationship, you want to know how to be a good girlfriend to keep your man happy. Take it from me: it doesn’t take much to do just that, but I wanted to compile a list of ways to be a good girlfriend to help you out.

What Does It Mean to Be a Good Girlfriend?

Work on how to be a good girlfriend because you care about him, not to get something.

Think back to your last boyfriend. What’s your first reaction?

“He was a great boyfriend (barring whatever split you two up).”

“Ug. He was the worst boyfriend. He didn’t care about me and was never affectionate.”

It’s probably easier to list all the things he did wrong than what he did right if he was a bad boyfriend. But think back further to a good boyfriend you’ve had.

Now take a moment for me and make a list of all the things that boyfriend did right.

Does your list look something like this?

He was always affectionate.

He would give me gifts.

We had great conversations.

It felt like we were a team.

Now you know what it takes to be a good partner in general! Essentially, being a good girlfriend is treating your man the way you want to be treated. It’s the whole Golden Rule thing.

But take note: you shouldn’t want to learn how to be a good girlfriend because you want something from your guy. You should do it because you genuinely care about him. Maybe even love him. When you give without strings attached in a relationship, you get so much more in return.

Here’s another note: while I encourage you to treat your boyfriend how you want to be treated, that’s a generalization. We all have different quirks and desires. You might love kissing in public, while he hates it. So don’t kiss him more because that’s how you want to be treated!

Also, we have our own what are called Love Languages. Essentially, they’re the ways we prefer to communicate love or have it communicated to us. Often couples have different love languages. So while you might have a Love Language of gifts (you feel loved whenever he gives you one), his Language might be time (he’d rather cuddle with you on the couch). So consider what makes him feel loved as you work through this list of how to be a good girlfriend.

19 Principles Of How to Be a Good Girlfriend…or Even a Great Girlfriend

Before we dive right in, let me say that whatever you do to be a good girlfriend, make sure it comes naturally. If it’s forced, he’ll know, and your intention will get lost. You may feel resentful for him not appreciating you doing some of the things on this list, which is kinda counterintuitive to trying to be a better partner.

1. Be His Friend in Addition to His Girlfriend

Don’t just do couple-y things! Do friends things together too.

A lot of couples I know started out as friends. But something odd happened once they became romantically involved. They stopped being friends. I mean, sure, there were more complicated feelings involved, and maybe sex. But when you take the “friend” part out of the equation, it takes something away from the benefit of being a couple, I feel.

So what does being his friend look like? It’s about having a connection outside of the bedroom. Doing things you did together when you were friends (if that was the case before dating) or doing things together that you’d do with a friend (hiking, watching a sporting event).

2. Be Open

Women aren’t the only ones that enter a relationship with baggage from past experiences. Men, just like you, have been hurt in past relationships. They may have trouble being vulnerable with you.

While certainly, you have to work through your own issues, know that openness is the key to a successful long-term relationship. So if you want to build trust with this man, be open and honest with him. That means telling him about your past and issues that might arise (you have trouble trusting men after being cheated on, for example).

This may be hard for you if you have difficulty opening up, so gradually work on it.

3. Give Him Space When He Needs It

Giving him space away from you gives him a chance to be whole.

The women I’ve coached have trouble with accepting the fact that men sometimes need their space. It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s just how we are.

And yea, they may brush that need aside when you first start dating, either because they’re so excited to spend all their time with you or because they worry that they’ll put you off with that need to be apart from you. But as you settle into a relationship, they get more comfortable letting you know that they need space.

If you really want to work on how to be a good girlfriend, give him that space when he needs it. Don’t take it personally. Use that time to be by yourself or with your friends.

4. Be Vulnerable

This kind of goes with being open: it can be challenging for you to do if you’ve been hurt in the past, but being vulnerable will escalate your emotional connection to your boyfriend.

How can you be vulnerable? Talk to him about your feelings. If you get frustrated or angry at something he’s done, try to reframe it using how the situation makes you feel.

“It makes me feel like you don’t value my opinion when you ignore my advice.”

Don’t put up a wall around your heart. If you’re serious about this turning into a committed relationship, you’re going to have to take a chance on getting hurt.

5. Say What’s on Your Mind

I know some women who do whatever they can to not rock the boat in a relationship early on, so they stifle their opinions and personality. This is such a shame because the right man will love you because of your opinion, not in spite of it.

Obviously, you don’t want to offend him. Maybe stay away from topics that might cause arguments (politics and religion being two examples). But absolutely do speak your mind. You’re a smart, sexy woman with thoughts that deserve to be shared.

Don’t be shy about contradicting him, either. A little healthy back-and-forth banter can be fun!

6. Be a Nice to His Friends

They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but actually, I’d argue that it’s through his friends. Just like you, men care what their friends think of a woman he’s serious about. If they call her names or don’t want to be around her, it’s harder for him to deal with. If he’s constantly spending time with you or his friends separately, it will stress him out.

So another way you can learn how to be a good girlfriend is to make friends with his friends. You don’t have to love them. But you do have to be nice to them.

If he tells you a story about what’s going on with his buddy Ted, ask about it the next time you see him. If Jake is going through a hard time, buy the two of them a six pack and send your man over to be with his buddy.

7. Care About His Health

Show you care by taking care of him when he’s sick.

Take it from me: even the guy that powers through a cold rather than staying in bed and nursing it likes to be taken care of by his lady.

If you notice him coughing, pick up cough drops at the drug store and bring them to him. If he’s full-on sick, bring him chicken noodle soup and a good movie. If he’s unable to run errands, offer to do them for him. These are tiny gestures that can leave a big impression about how much you care about him.

8. Trust Him

You: “Hey can you please pick up the dry cleaning after work?”

Him: “Uh, yea. Sure.”

You: “Nevermind. I’ll do it myself.”

If you’re a control freak, it’s probably going to be pretty challenging for you to trust someone else to do things as well as you know you could do them. But even if he does a bad job, you still need to trust him.

And trust extends to your emotions too. Like I said: putting a wall around your heart doesn’t let him in. Realize that he’s not the guy that broke your heart in the past. He’s not guilty of past transgressions. So trust him a little. Let him in.

9. Listen to Him

Listen to understand so that you show you’re paying attention.

Did you realize that there are different types of listening? In a study conducted by Faye Doell, research showed that there are two different types of listening: “listening to understand” and “listening to respond.”

If you listen to understand, you can significantly improve your relationship, because you’re paying attention to what he’s saying, processing it, and reflecting on it. When you listen to respond, you’re already thinking about what you want to say in reply, and you’re not really paying attention.

10. Be Authentic

In the eight years I’ve been a relationship coach, I can’t tell you how many misguided women I’ve met who try to be something they’re not to please a man in a relationship. And every. single. time. this strategy failed.

You may assume your boyfriend likes his women a certain way (docile, perky, overly-intellectual) and you may try to be that, but I assure you: you won’t be able to keep up that facade for long.

If you want to know how to be a good girlfriend, be real. A good girlfriend will not hide behind a fake mask. She’ll let her guy see her authentic self. Yes, it’s scary. But if you’re going to be vulnerable (#4), then you have to let him see who you really are.

11. Be Supportive

Be there for him, in good times and bad.

My girlfriend Jessica is like my own personal cheerleader. When I score some awesome business opportunity, she’s in the front row cheering for me. If I’m going through something tough, she’s the shoulder I lean on.

We all want someone supportive in our lives. Being a good girlfriend means taking your turn in supporting him, not just leaning on him all the time. In a solid relationship, partners take turns being there for one another.

12. Work as a Team

Continuing that sports analogy: being a team player is another way to work on how to be a good girlfriend. Being a team means you work together for a common objective.

Maybe you work out together and support one another’s fitness goals. Maybe you travel together and take turns planning the day’s adventures.

No one of you is fully in control of the relationship. You rely on one another and help one another succeed.

13. Compliment Him

Make him blush with a surprise compliment!

It’s such a simple tip on how to be a good girlfriend, yet this one thing seems to dwindle in relationships over time.

But think about how much you love it when he compliments you.

“You’re beautiful.”

“That’s an excellent idea!”

“I’m lucky to have such an amazing woman in my life.”

It takes so little energy to compliment your boyfriend, so make a point of doing it several times a week. Mix it up! Don’t just compliment his body or face. Remember he’s got a brain too!

14. Compromise Sometimes

I know. You like getting your way. And I bet that most of the time, you get it. But a healthy relationship has a healthy dose of compromise.

That means sometimes you’ll have to do things you’d prefer not to do.

I’m not talking about robbing a bank. I mean smaller stuff like staying at his house for the weekend even though you’re lazy and would rather he come to yours. Or going to watch the game with his friends once a month rather than your preferred wine bar.

While ideally compromise should make both of you a little happy but neither of you ecstatic, sometimes you’ll have to give more than you want to. Just look at the big picture: doesn’t he do the same for you? Couldn’t you make this small sacrifice, knowing that your relationship is about give and take?

15. Be Affectionate

Give him affection on his terms.

This is another aspect of a relationship that often slips away over time. You start out being unable to stop touching one another. You constantly hold hands, kiss, and hug. But as you get used to being around one another, that level of affection may slip. Don’t let it.

Part of learning how to be a good girlfriend is expressing your affection through physical touch. Again, though, defer to what he wants affection-wise. He may prefer to spoon at night over PDA.

Even when you’re busy or stressed, don’t neglect to kiss your boyfriend every time you see him, even if it’s just a quick peck on the lips. And hey, there are plenty of health benefits of kissing! Not only does it reduce your stress and make you happier, but it also from Meet Positives SM Feed https://ift.tt/2rBBWZ4 via IFTTT

[burn-afterwriting]

I have £36 in my account right now. I need £15 for electric in the next two days, £10 for drumsticks if I want to play with my shitty band I don’t really like and whatever loose change is on the table for laundry money and bus fares. Then I have to worry about food because I have nothing in my house and my girlfriend wants to come over and I’m supposed to feed her. I feel completely worthless as a human being and really want to let her move on because I can’t offer her normal things like food nevermind taking her out or buying her things. My brain goes into overdrive when she says I make her happier than any other relationship she’s been in because how the fuck bad must they have been that this is a better alternative? Maybe being with me has finally killed her self esteem and I’ve dragged her down to my level and it’s so dark and empty here she can’t find her way out. I honestly feel like the admirable thing to do is to cut her out of my life until I have money and can afford to treat her right. 

I think the real problem is I’m so fucked up I can’t even begin to figure out where to start. I’m not fulfilled in any aspect of my life. Obviously this is largely due to not having money so I can’t do basic things like buy nice things or eat nice things or do nice things. I’m stuck in a loop where I constantly wonder who I would’ve been had I secured that lucrative job right after I left uni. Would the money have changed me? Surely I’d be living somewhere else. I’d maybe be able to drive and that would get me out of my own head a bit. Then I tangent through other possible realities where I still have a family and my uncle gives me advice every Saturday while we fix up old cars and talk shit about politics. Moments I’ll never have. 

I’m in such dire need of a change in scenery and a new layer of skin, but I’m still trapped, surrounded by the past. I made my flat pretty comfy with everything in its right place, but after a year it’s all grown stagnant and static. What am I programmed to desire? A bigger apartment I can fit more things into? A garage or shed where I can learn to tinker like a real boy? I don’t know how to grow or change as a person because I’m not sure who I want to be. I can never talk about my past without having to admit I had serious development problems that eventually cemented as serial self doubt and what feels like bordering schizophrenia or sociopathy. The ironic thing is that when I was younger I was so much happier, even though I was suicidal and self harmed a lot. Maybe that was actually a coping mechanism and I never really replaced it I just learnt to bury it. Maybe most of my current problems stem from going to university and realising how fucked up I was within the context of normal, middle-class, well adjusted individuals and running from my problems in an effort to seem like I’d left them behind. I still have dreams about killing my dad. I never tell them to anyone but my girlfriend still picks up on my daddy issues. What other alternative do I have but to be a man though? To stop focusing on the things I can’t change and move into a new future where I’m the hero of my own story. I don’t even like to write anymore because there’s a chance I’ll be in a better mood tomorrow and the thoughts of my previous honesty will hover over me and pull me back down. What use is there in being disgustingly honest about your neuroses when there is no immediate solution and all you can do is pave over it like an old road and try to keep on top of the maintenance. 

Sometimes the only path seems to be accepting my role as the bad guy, telling myself so what if I have a girl I don’t deserve, she’ll either figure it out herself or I’ll keep getting away with it. I hate the idea of personal happiness at the expense of others because it reminds me of my family saying I only talk to them when I’m looking something despite the fact I don’t look anything from them except a place to go sometimes and to touch base. In my head I have a script for every bad word people say about me but in reality I’d rather avoid confrontation because it’s a battle I would never win. I used to be an asshole and revel in it because I knew the pros of my personality would outweigh the cons, but now my life is such a piece of shit I think I try to avoid the cons just to help that ratio level-out by proxy. 

I’m so broke, financially and spiritually. I don’t like who I am and I have no idea who I want to be. It feels like purgatory here. I feel like a glitch in the system, an emotional tear that people can physically sense. I think I can take out £20, spend £15 on food, there should still be at least £15 for electric and the loose change will hopefully cover bus fare and laundry. I could be a leech and borrow drumsticks off a pal but even that feels too scummy so I’ll see if I can somehow double that fiver in my jeans pocket and buy some for myself. I want to say the struggle fuels me, I want to post a rant about how I’m barely surviving and nobody cares, but that’s the thing, nobody does care anymore, not even me.