#or at least more so than I already was to begin with

[madewithsilk]

Virgin!reader x toxic gf!ellie

She pressures reader to have sex with her and she’s really rough with her even when reader asks her to be gentle

(Btw I love your writing so much 🩷)

— ᴛᴏxɪᴄ!ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ; ᴛᴏxɪᴄ ɢꜰ ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ x ᴠɪʀɢɪɴ (ꜰ!) ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄᴡ; ᴇꜱᴛᴀʙʟɪꜱʜᴇᴅ ʀʟꜱʜɪᴘ, ᴅᴜʙ ᴄᴏɴ, ꜱᴛʀᴀᴘ ᴏɴ

Ellie believes she has been more than patient. She notices the flicker of fear and the shadows of disagreement that cross your face whenever she brings having sex up, and she chalks it up to the norm. After all, it's only natural to feel apprehensive about the first time; she experienced those nerves herself. Yet, as she watches you, a wave of hunger washes over her, making it all the more enticing to bridge the gap between you and her. The way you lay in bed, watching TV, panties visible the her. She nearly swears you're doing it on purpose. It makes her think of all the times you were so needy but refused to have sex. She could hear you cumming on your pillow at least three times in one night while she stayed in the living room.

She wanted to keep being the slow-moving and forbearing lover, keeping to her promises of giving you as much time as needed and hiding how she truly felt. But her patience has always had limits.

She shuffles into the bedroom, a hand running through her hair. She was forming a script of words she’d whisper at you to finally bring you over the edge and give in. Your gaze shifts onto her, closing your thighs with a small redness on your cheeks. Ellie crawls onto the bed besides you, slipping one of her arms around your face to turn you and face her. Your puppy-like eyes stare up at her, an incoming pout forming. Her free hand strokes your cheek, a moment of intimate silence before she speaks up.

“How are you feeling, babe?” She whispers, thumb tracing circles on your hip. You grumble under your breath, being held flush against Ellie. Your eyes would dart around on her face, her tattoos. Your thighs clenched together. "Bit sleepy, just couldn't fall asleep." You huffed.

Ellie tuts, moving strands of hair out of your face in faux sympathy. "Poor baby," She begins, slipping a leg between your thighs, catching you by suprise. Your hands rested on her chest defensively, nodding. "Need help going to sleep?" You had an idea of what she could be suggesting, but you trusted her to respect your wishes, so you nodded again and asked "How?"

A smile ends up painted on Ellie's lips, refraining from rocking her knee against your clothed cunt just yet. “Y’know,” Her hands wander away from your hips and face, instead groping your tits in implication. You couldn't have shaken your head quicker, brows furrowing. Your hands pushed against Ellie's chest but she just held you closer. "Shh, shh, c'mon. It'll help you go to bed in no time, baby."

Your breathing was slightly uneven, biting your bottom lip. You wanted to sleep, but it was just so soon in your mind for sex. "I'll be so, so gentle, baby." You trusted Ellie, or at least you wanted to. Yet, you still denied the consistent offer. "No– Ellie, I'm not ready.." She rolls her eyes, body now above yours on the bed. She was caging you in. "Don't you wanna make me happy?" Her statement gave you a moment of contemplation. You feared her leaving if you didn't give her what she wanted soon enough.

“You promise you’ll be gentle?” Ellie keeps one hand besides your head on the bed, the other one reaching her pinky out to you childishly. “Pinky promise.” When your finger interlocked with hers, a small leaving your lips at the gesture, her hands went straight to undressing herself. She hovered above you, her belt undone right before you. You couldn't help but whimper, her boxers just begging to be taken off.

Your fingertips trace the waistband, seeing her already having a strap underneath. It slightly threw you off, wondering if she had planned this, but you didn't have much time to keep thinking when she fully tugged them down. The silicone dick was girthy, her palm encasing it and stroking it as if it were real. “Not gonna fit, Els..” She scoffed, kissing you to shut you up while removing your shirt and hiking up your skirt to reveal your panties and take those off too.

You responded to the kiss with fervor, hands tangling in her hair and groaning into the kiss alongside her. She didn't even reach down to play with your clit nor stretch you out with her fingers, lining up her cock to your entrance. Your tongue was exploring her mouth and she held you closer.

When you felt it stretch you completely, Ellie immediately buried herself to the hilt, you broke the kiss. Your eyes were wide, a bit of pain in your expression. Ellie groaned, hand resting on your throat as she began to thrust inside you. You whimpered, squeamish from the pain and incoming pleasure. She moaned into your neck now, hand pressing against your lower tummy so you could feel all of her inside you. “Fuckk— you don’t know how long I’ve needed this,”

You clawed at her back, head thrown against the mattress. Her pace was unrelentless and you felt the tip nudging your cervix. She pulled back from your neck, grasped your thighs, and kept pumping her dick into your sopping cunt. Tears welled in your eyes, it felt so good but it was so unwarranted. “Ellie— so- s’mean!” You whimpered, huffing and panting.

Your vision got blurry from both the tears and how her cock made your head swirl, you were filled to the brim. “Fuck, don’t- don’t cry, baby,” She was gasping for air, and even as you got closer and closer, she kept ramming the strap inside you. The sound of squelching and skin-slapping bounced off the walls, a knot forming deep in your tummy. “You’re dripping on me, baby, I can’t be that mean?” She chuckled breathlessly.

Your eyes were basically rolled to the back of your head, tongue lolling out. You wanted so badly to be mad and yell, but you couldn’t do much, just babble incoherent words. Your mouth was nearly completely slack, “Fuck— Els, can’t, can’t ta-take—“ She hummed, nodding and letting you ramble.

“You can, can take everything I give you, going so fuckin’ dumb,” She kept pounding into you, she swears she can feel you clench around her dick. You couldn’t stop squirming, back arching, she held you right in place while fucking you through your orgasm. She slithered a hand between your thighs to rub circles on your clit, throwing you over the edge and cumming all over her

Her pace slowed down, instead giving harsher, deeper thrusts as you came down from the high. Ellie pulled the silicone cock out, resting it on your abdomen with the white ring of cream you left on it. She swiped sweaty strands of hair off your forehead, kissing it gently. She noticed the upset front you put on, her pride too high to say sorry.

Instead, she whispers sweetly in your ear, “You’ll forgive me, right?”

[justaghostwithbones]

This is so beautifully articulated. I alternate between sprinting forward to moonwalking back… sometimes years. Sometimes I take up residence in that bygone time, and wallow in trying to change it, while imaging I don’t know how that storyline tragically ends. Sometimes I sprint forward then; start building the blocks of the life that I want. I’ll get it partially built… and then… and then… and then… I’m back in the past again, somewhere else this time. Trying to prevent a different moral crime.

But for just about a month now, I’ve held still (with a moment or two of those springs to half-build things; though instead of running backward, I just pause). I’m learning to crawl. I’m building those skills.

(CW: death, grief, suicide, animal death)

Something I’ve learned, so painfully, through so many genuine tragedies—the death of my little family: first my husband of almost ten years… then the first dog we adopted together (and even the people who hate it when others compare human children to pets would fully vouch for the fact that I showed my guys more love and sacrificed more for them than many human parents of human kids), who died spontaneously in my arms from a condition that couldn’t be screened for. He didn’t suffer, it was fast. I wailed when I felt his last breath. I had never felt something die before and it rewrote some of my DNA. I never wanted to outlive my dogs, and I couldn’t believe I had to. I had these primal screams of rage at “God” for everything I had already lost, but my baby deserved peace from me, even if he wasn’t really “there” at the moment, so I swallowed my rage and I held him for over an hour. Talking about everything he was and everything he meant and all of the people he had inspired with his spunky personality as a rescued dog who had done some time in the streets. I pressed my forehead against the top of his head and health my breath, unable to accept he was gone. I listened to songs with his fuzzy, sweet body cradled close to me while I kissed his face.

His “big” brother, whom we adopted a year later than our first guy, but was triple his size deteriorated quickly, and after torturing myself with data and research, I looked into his eyes one day and knew that he was asking me for help. He’d been to veterinary specialists several times in the previous few months, but there was nothing any of them could do for him. It was just age. He was a large breed dog who was at least 14. They kept telling me I couldn’t have done more. I knew the only help I could give him was to let him go. So I made an appointment and planned for him to pass peacefully under a tree my late-husband planted. I took him to the place where my husband and I got married. I gave him all of the carbs he wanted (once he got into the double digits, he felt he earned the right to snag food, and he never met a piece of bread he didn’t love). I took pictures of him against the backdrop of the Rocky Mountains in the summer. I slept on my husband’s side of the bed (because he slept in a raised bed my husband built for him there), so I could pet him all night, every night I still had him. That gold-hearted guy ended up passing two days before this wonderful vet service was scheduled to come to my house… he still couldn’t fully let go, so they made an emergency visit, and he ultimately died in my arms on my late-husband’s side of the bed, after a couple hours of me laying with him and telling him stories and playing him songs and mapping out his irises like they would be my compass, because I had to no idea how to navigate life without his protective instincts. Because I didn’t know if my bones had another loss in them. I silently begged for his wisdom and felt so selfish for not being able to stop time and reverse biology and get more time with him. He loved my husband much more than he loved me, in the beginning, and there was some real poetic beauty in where he chose to let go—he didn’t get up on the bed regularly at that point; he hadn’t for years. But for a couple hours, I got to thank him out loud for everything that I could remember to say out loud. He licked tears off my face. His tail wagged when my mom arrived. I whispered to him until I felt his heart stop, and continued after.

In under 2.5 years, I lost my husband, my career, my health (I still am not allowed to work due to my disabilities), and my babies I’d “raised” for 12, and 11 years, respectively. And I haven’t moved forward. The only reason I’m still alive is that… those weren’t my only two babies. Months before my husband died, he fell in love with a puppy we stumbled upon unintentionally while picking up something from a pet store. We didn’t know there was an adoption event held that day. So just over 5 years ago, now, we adopted a puppy. By now, he’s a “legitimate” service dog (cardiac training), and my best friend and confidante. There have been so many nights where I’ve wanted to unsubscribe from earth but just look at him and know he couldn’t live without me. He is my tether to now, and he is how I’ve navigated losing close family relationships (I didn’t suffer the loss of my husband, career, and babies in a way that was palatable for some people. I didn’t do anything crazy, they admit. I just… cried too much. Wasn’t fun to be around. So they didn’t come around. Or call. Or text. I don’t have any real “social media,” so I wasn’t suffering in their face or anything. I just… wasn’t supposed to suffer at all, somehow). He is the reason I’m working so hard in therapy (and have been for nearly 4 years, but REALLY doing painful work for the past 4 months) in the hopes that I will start to want to wake up. That I will look forward to living. That I am determined to find a way to live and not just exist. That I can build a sustainable way to move forward.

But right now, I’m proud of myself for holding still, even when it hurts everywhere and I know all my internal escape routes, all of the ways I can distract myself, all of my hiding spots, all of the ways I can bleed to distract my brain from its selfish existential suffering. But I’m not using them. I’m just holding still, sometimes shakily, sometimes while holding my breath, sometimes through hours of silent tears running down my face.

It’s a kind of poetic irony that I found this person’s beautiful sentiment—that made my neurons start firing in a way that I could write about things I’ve never been able to speak aloud with any level of detail—on the eve of “spring forward” (though I, along with literally everyone else, hates the fact that we can’t stick to either daylight or standard time year round. It’s literally the only thing there’s true consensus about in the U.S.; sincerely); because that’s what I want to do. Maybe in March I’ll only be crawling, but it’s still forward motion. Because I know I won’t make it through 2025 if it’s like 2024. The world is getting worse and I have every excuse to do the same. The world is getting worse so I refuse to do the same. The world is getting worse so I am going to get better.Not perfect. Not perfectly. Tearfully, painfully, tragically, better. I’m going to keep the coffee dates adults pretend to make. I’m going to meet the neighbors I’ve lived near for 13 years. I’m going to learn how to exist among tragedy without feeling tragic. I’m going to learn to tell the stories of what I’ve lost with the aim of learning to gain things, not as an excuse for why I don’t ever even dare to want anything because I know so deeply the pain of loss. I want to grieve, but not be the physical embodiment of grief. I want to learn how to want things. I want to learn how to say that I want things. I want to learn what I like to do. I want to learn how to find joy and not just be busy.

I want.

how do you reconnect to life after being disconnected for so long

[randomshyperson]

I'll Keep You Warm - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

summary: During a mission, Wanda needs to keep warm, and there's no one better suited for the job than a demigod with fire powers.

words: 2.701k | warnings: this is not explicit at all but there's undressing and some innuendos, actually super fluff, friends (rivals) with mutual pining, attempt at humor (sometimes I think I'm funny), takes place after civil war, reader actually have the same personality as johnny storm because he's the only fire powered character I could think of while writing.

A/N-> Honestly, this was entirely based on the scene of Jacob warming up Bella in Twilight. It was requested as a challenge by @abimess about three years ago, and it's finally here. Never stop believing your request will see the light of the day guys (does this expression exist in English as well?)

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad |

-&-

Stake out missions are always a pain, but there's a code among the Avengers, and that's why instead of relaxing on some paradise island, you're in Siberia, collecting evidence for Natasha Romanoff.

To be fair, this was more of a favor to Nat than an Avengers duty, since the team was currently on a political tightrope, with half the people here and half somewhere else, with government contracts between them and councils all over the world. In the midst of all this mess, Natasha had discovered that the Red Room was not only operational, but also had a hundred thousand widows out there. The operation to locate and rescue these women was understaffed, and well, that's how you ended up in the Siberian winter with a grumpy witch and a synthezoid.

It turns out that the revelation that the Red Room was still operating was the exact kind of argument that the Avengers could use to exist, only super spies like Nat or Clint could find the widows, and well, only people like you, and the other Avengers could deal with that kind of power and influence. So while Natasha took care of the bureaucratic part, you and the others helped with everything else.

Stark and Cap were somewhere in Peru, and you envied a little the reconnaissance pictures that Tony sent to the group that contained the most beautiful tourist landscapes he visited with the justification of 'you never know where a black widow might be hiding' while you froze your ass with the people who liked you the least on the team.

Well, Vision didn't like you. In the same quantity as you hated him.

Wanda is a special case. You like to annoy her because she's really cute when she's mad, and she, although she's probably the most powerful person on the team and has full capacity to do so, has never put a definitive end to any of your torments towards her.

It was more of a game of teasing and friendly rivalry than mutual hatred.

The only thing you really disagreed on was the strange relationship she had with Vision, which always made you cross some line and say something stupid that would make her angry for weeks.

And it was also the reason you had offered to keep watch in the snow outside the hideout, while the two of them were safe and warm inside.

But only a few hours into the mission - Steve had already confirmed his status, as had Sam, who was in France, also having a great time as a tourist - when your slumber was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Vision, making you jump a little from the wooden chair.

"I wasn't sleeping!" You exclaimed immediately, to which the robot only sighed in reprimand, without comment. As you adjusted your posture and forced the sleep away, he stepped away from the canvas of the tent he had just crossed and cleared his throat.

"I require your assistance, Miss L/N." He begins, making you look at him in surprise.

The formal way Vision speaks always seems strange to you. You laugh shortly, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Do you now, huh?"

That damn proud robot doesn't lose his composure under your irony. 

"As you may have noticed, the temperature has dropped considerably." 

You hum at his words, shrugging.  "I didn't, actually. Perks of being a demigod, I guess."

Vision sighs impatiently. "Well, the human in the group is cold." He explains grumpily, and you laugh in confusion.

"Sorry, I thought you were the one taking care of that, microwave." You retort, remembering well how Wanda, who must have been wearing three different coats the last time you two talked, grumbled the whole way about the snow, and how Vision seemed so pleased with himself when he offered to keep her warm with the heating function of his metal body.

So it was strange to see him standing there, begrudgingly asking for help.

"I was." He grumbles. "But my body... well, it overheated. I can't keep it that high heat for too long without damaging myself. Unlike you, of course. So I thought-"

"That I would save the day?" You interrupt, feigning some disinterest and then sighing. "Well, I don't know, I don't feel like a hero tonight." You sigh again, glazing him through the corner of your eye. "Maybe if you say please."

He chuckles incredulously. "You want me to beg you to save a teammate's life?" He retorts indignantly. "Maybe I should just report on your attitude. I'm sure Miss Romanoff will be happy to know what we've been wasting our energy on instead of the mission. Ridiculous arguments and-"

You burst out laughing, gesturing. "Dude, you need to lighten up. I'm obviously joking." You cut him off, standing up. "Take my watch. I'll keep your girlfriend warm."

If Vision could blush with anger, he probably would. He huffs, giving you room to get inside the tent.

"Just so you know, Miss Maximoff and I don't have that kind of relationship," he grudgingly clarifies, and you almost get the impression that this is something Wanda has asked him to do whenever someone - you - assumes differently.

You laugh, irony dripping onto your tongue as you retort, "I'm so sorry to hear that." And you imitate the sounds of fireworks and cheering, escaping a push from Vision to slip into the tent.

Even with your powers, it was easy to see how cold and damp it was in there. The tent, while spacious, didn't have much ability to accumulate heat from the fire pit outside or the small wood heater in the corner of the room, and almost all of your attitude disappeared when you caught a glimpse of the shivering figure on the camping mat.

Almost.

"Fear no more, Maximoff, your knight in shining armor is here." You teased, earning a small laugh from her.

Wanda adjusted herself to make room for you on the mattress. "Shut up, and get over here already."

Despite moving immediately, you retort, “Bossy,” which only makes her hide a smile against the pillow.

It should have been awkward, cuddling with a teammate, but as you adjusted and hugged her, it was only hard to ignore how Wanda seemed to have been molded for you. She fit perfectly against your body, and you tried not to blush at the sigh of relief she let out as she snuggled into your warmth.

“Thank you.” She sighed, eyes closed, hands moving inside your jacket. 

Your arms were around her, legs intertwined beneath the blanket that was no longer needed, and you didn’t trust your voice much to say more than a hoarse:  “Don’t mention it.”

A moment of silence passes, and then another. Your thoughts wander between Wanda, the Avengers, and what Natasha would say about how you’ve chosen to spend your time. Maybe Vis is right, and you’ve wasted enough moments that being used as a human heater is your only way to keep Wanda close. Maybe it’s too late to be anything else.

The silence stretches longer, and you almost think Wanda has fallen asleep, and you’re almost considering doing the same, when she groans.

“You’re being loud.”

Opening your mouth to defend yourself because you’re sure you haven’t said a word in the last few minutes, you shut yourself up before you do, as you realize the telepath snuggled against your chest was surely talking about another kind of noise. You snort lightly, folding your arms behind your head. The lack, even a little, of the warmth of one of them on her shoulders makes her groan in protest.

“If you weren’t nosy, you wouldn’t hear a thing.”

You snap back rudely, but Wanda chuckles, quite comfortable moving one of her hands inside your shirt. Your skin is considerably warmer without a fabric between you two, and it makes her hum in satisfaction.

"Yes, that's better." She whispers sleepily, hiding her face in the crook of your neck. The position becomes less and less platonic with each adjustment Wanda makes, but you would never complain.

You try to relax with so much contact - it's especially difficult now that you can smell Wanda's shampoo so directly, almost intoxicating all your senses with it. - And you're almost getting used to the sensation, when she grumbles dissatisfied.

"Why am I still cold?" There's a soft scratch of her nails against your lower back that makes you clear your throat and think of anything other than the sensation, in scenarios very different from this one.

You consider mumbling something about it being too cold outside for her to warm up in five minutes, and telling her to stop moving and wait a bit, but Wanda tries to repeat the skin-to-skin idea from before by adjusting herself so that she's practically all over you, both hands under your shirt. And that makes you jump in fright.

"Wow, slow down there, tigress." You scoff, really embarrassed now, and Wanda raises an eyebrow at the color in your cheeks - which increases considerably when she sits against your hips, hovering over you.

She looks at you with some curiosity, a smile playing on her lips. You have the impression that her eyes glow red for a second before she retorts:

"Don't act like this isn't your dream come true." She teases, half-joking and half-serious, you can only swallow hard as you stare into her eyes.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You retort, well aware that a quick peek into your mind would tell Wanda that you know exactly what she's talking about.

But despite her skills, she's either too tired or too cold to do nothing more than let out a short laugh and roll her eyes.

"Can you stop thinking about dirty things for a second and help me out?" She grumbles, and you'll probably agree with anything this woman says while she's on top of you. She starts to take off her sweatshirt, and you forget how to breathe. Your expression brings a blush to her cheeks, but she doesn't lose her composure. "Stop it."

Yep, she can definitely hear your thoughts.

You clear your throat, adjusting yourself to cover your face with your arm, and block that sinful image before you.

"You stop." Is your answering grunt, to which Wanda gives a tense chuckle. "What the hell is this now? Undressing on my lap."

Wanda, who has already discarded all her sweaters on the floor, rolls her eyes. You're not looking, but she seems to be having a great time.

"You don't pay attention to anything, do you?" She retorts, and sighs to herself when she realizes that with all the movement, she now can see part of your abs exposed by the shirt. The anatomy of the gods was something really unfair and hard to ignore and Wanda is grateful that you are covering your eyes, because she can hide her own reaction from you.

"I pay attention to too many things if you ask me." You mumble, but Wanda ignores your answer, busy removing her shirt. With a sports bra being the only thing covering her torso now, she moves her hands to the edge of your jacket. With the gentle tug, you startle again, and stare at her in shock when you realize her lack of clothes. "F-for Odin, what the hell-"

"I need skin-to-skin warmth, you perv." She retorts firmly, even though her face is burning. You stammer in amazement, unable to look away from the cleavage in front of you—which is too close when Wanda pushes your jacket off. “You didn’t pay attention in any of those survival classes they organized for us, did you?” She insists on making conversation, but you’re mumbling sincerely:

“I don’t think I’d know my name right now if you asked me.” Wanda chuckles, rolling her eyes. Your jacket falls down your back, and she reaches for the hem of your shirt. 

“Take it off.” 

“Won't even take me to dinner first, Maximoff?” You scoff, even though you’re complying. Wanda loses a bit of confidence at your exposure, clearing her throat when she realizes she’s staring.

She ignores her own reaction, looking away as she explains; “You probably don’t understand this because you’re not entirely human, but it’s really cold right now. I just need a little more warmth.” 

You smile at her, moving your hands to her hips, making Wanda sigh as you start to play with the knot of her sweatpants. “Are you really going to take it all off, Maximoff? I knew you were hardcore, but damn…” 

She groans in embarrassment, for the first time that night. Covering her face with her hands, you laugh at the sight. “This would be so much easier if you didn’t keep thinking the things you’re thinking.” She mutters. “It’s so annoying.” 

You laugh, tugging at the knot so it comes loose. The slight slack in her sweatpants that allows you to see more of her hips makes you sigh. “Well, I’m still fifty percent human. No one is ironclad against a pretty girl on their lap. Oh, wait, your boyfriend is.”

Wanda takes her hands away from her face to hold your wrists away from her hips but still in your lap. "Vision isn't my boyfriend." 

You narrow your eyes at her suspiciously. "But he's something." She hesitates, letting go of your wrists. 

"Yeah, just like you are." She murmurs, taking you by surprise. She sighs then, adjusting her hair. "Friends, roommates, teammates. It doesn't matter what you call it."

You smile. "How about... personal heater?"

She laughs, shaking her head. "Shut up and take off your pants."

Despite the raised eyebrow, you don't say anything else. There's a pull apart, so that the two of you can strip down to your underwear. You do that fairly quickly, because even with your powers, you can feel how cold Wanda's skin is now.

But once you're settled under the covers again, Wanda can breathe a sigh of relief. She resists the urge to dig her nails into your back, feeling your body covering hers, and now skin to skin, the temperature rises much more quickly.

You’re also kind enough to emit more heat, and Wanda can’t resist hiding her face against your neck when your arms wrap around her completely. 

It’s a very tender moment between you. Wanda doesn’t want to think about how vulnerable she is, trusting you completely to keep her alive. And she also doesn’t want to think about how much better this feels than anything she’s ever felt. The safety inside your arms leaves her breathless. Suddenly, she finds herself asking; “Did you really mean all the things you were thinking?” 

You laugh shortly, your fingers moving to caress her hair and Wanda can’t help the gasp that escapes her lips at the sensation. “I don’t want to have this conversation while you’re having a hypothermia episode, Maximoff.” 

“I’m not—” 

“I paid attention in survival classes.” You interrupt her. "One of the most common signs of hypothermia is confusion, and one of the desperate actions people tend to have is to remove all clothing. You're lucky I can warm you up so quickly."  She says nothing to that, finally realizing that she's stopped shivering, and her thoughts are much clearer than before. She's no longer desperate to get warm, because she's not cold at all now. Wanda is ready to thank you, when you add, "Of course, there are still ways to warm you up even more..."

You move your head, and playfully bite her cheek, making her squirm with laughter before pinching you on the corners. You're still laughing when she turns inside your embrace, pouting but not pulling away from you.

With your arms firmly around her, you adjust your mouth to her ear.

“Go to sleep, you need to.” You whisper, smiling at the way she tries to hide her body’s reactions from you. “I’ll keep you warm through the night.”

She reaches out to intertwine her hand with yours, and rest it on top of her stomach. When you two finally fall asleep, you have matching smiles on your faces.

[hrrtshape]

reality shifting, manifesting, and the great linguistic turf war

so i seem to have waltzed, with my imaginary margiela tabi ballet flats, straight into the discourse again. imagine that. i nod. i sip my drink. i light a cigarette, if only in spirit.

because, sure. manifesting and shifting aren't the same. the pope isn’t the prime minister, but they both run on belief. a cheetah isn’t a jaguar, but you still wouldn’t want to be locked in a room with either. language is about distinctions, sure, but it’s also about power, and there’s a certain je ne sais quoi to the way people want to lock these definitions in a box and swallow the key.

manifesting is mindset work. you decide, you persist, you refuse to be gaslit by the stubborn 3d reality that insists on showing you what you don’t want to see. you push, you sculpt, you bend the spoon until it folds itself into your palm like an obedient pet. shifting, on the other hand, is something else. something more nomadic, more quantum, more willing to entertain the notion that perhaps you are not merely bending the spoon, but stepping into a reality where the spoon was never straight to begin with.

now, why aren’t they labelled the same thing? because semantics is a business, and business is booming. because people are territorial about their terminology, like real estate developers for the mind. if you tell someone that shifting and manifesting are light years apart, separate continents in the great archipelago of the mind, you are not just describing, you are prescribing. you are setting the boundaries of an intellectual real estate market in which terms are currency and definitions are fences. because if we let the edges blur, someone will invoke the sacred texts (read: old posts, outdated theories, personal dogma) and insist that historical accuracy is at stake. but this is not a matter of brick walls and barbed wire. this is not the berlin wall, it is not the parting of the red sea. the difference between shifting and manifesting is a beaded curtain, shimmering, swaying, prone to being pushed aside.

this is my opinion, obviously, but in the grand tradition of opinions, i happen to think it’s correct.

and yet!! people are told, with great severity, that “we are not shifting every second” and “shifting is moving awareness to an already existent variant of yourself.” okay. sure. and yet!! is awareness not already a game of hopscotch across endless versions of self? have we not all flickered between different states of being, different potential selves, different lives we might have led? is your yesterday-self not a variant you can no longer touch? if we’re splitting hairs, let’s at least have the honesty to admit we’re all holding the same strand, twisting it in different directions and calling it by different names.

see, that’s a trick. perception is not a stable thing. you shift your focus, you shift your reality. some call that manifesting. some call that shifting. the labels matter less than the fact that it works. whether you’re bending the spoon or stepping into a world where the spoon bends for you, you’re still, at the end of the day, just person standing in front of reality, asking it to be something different.

so, yes. shifting and manifesting are not the same. and yet, and yet, and yet.

the divide is smaller than you think.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Ready for Sleep

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> You fall asleep with Bucky after a tough mission.

Disclaimer: mentions of body injuries from a mission, established relationship, domestic fluff, short read. Not proof read.

You were ready to sleep for a year. Three severely bruised ribs and two dozen other bruises scattered across your entire body, a stiff neck that had been reminded a little by a hot shower, at least a dozen cuts and scrapes to your skin and enough images that will probably pop up one random night in a nightmare when you’re least expecting it. It was safe to say you were tired. 

Bucky had spent most of his morning reading. After two back to back missions, he’d been ready for a break so when Banner and Cho had forced Fury’s hand and allowed both himself and Sam to take a few weeks rest, he was more than happy to take it. 

He hadn’t heard you come back. Nor had he heard you limp down the hallway towards your room a few hours before his alarm went off. But he heard you when you walked into the living area just a little after two. 

“Hey- oh-” 

Holding the book still on his chest, Bucky looked over at you as you slowly made your way inside and across the room to him. Your hair was down and wet from your shower, your clothes had been changed from your standard black tactical gear to a fresh black t-shirt and a pair of shorts. 

“No, no, stay where you are.” You said to Bucky as he began to move. But you didn’t want to have to be constantly moving. You were ready to sleep. 

“What happened? I thought you weren’t getting back until tomorrow.”

Almost as easy as breathing, Bucky spread his legs a little and helped you down onto the sofa with him until you were lying comfortably beside him. 

“We wrapped up early since we kinda got caught. Nothing’s broken, I promise.” Bucky’s hand softly rubbed at your arm as you got comfortable. He pressed a short kiss to your hairline. 

“Why didn’t somebody call-”

“I asked them not to.” You looked up at him. “You would have been worrying for nothing.”

Bucky just gave you the look of someone still should have called me. 

“I promise. I’m okay. I just want to sleep.”

Bucky nodded. “Okay.” Then he kissed you. 

If his kiss couldn’t heal you, nothing could. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You graced him with a softened smile. “I am now.”

Bucky smiled down at you before kissing you slowly again, his hand softly wrapping around your wrist that lay on his chest. It was something he’d done since the beginning – counting the beats of your heart through your pulse. A reminder to him that you were real and not a figment of his imagination. 

“Want to tell me what happened?”

You were slow to nod. You’d already said everything on the video report on your way back home so it wasn’t like you needed to. But he was a worrier. And you found it easier talking to him than you did most people. 

“It was by complete accident. One of their new recruits didn’t know their way around the base so took a few wrong turns and ended up finding us. They did what they’d been told to do and pressed their button which alerted everyone else. From there, it was what you’d expect. Lots of noise, a lotta shouting and enough dust to give the desert a run for its money.”

Bucky chuckled and you felt the rumble in his chest under your ear. Softly, his fingers traced up and down your arm and side as you continued to explain. 

“We got what we went for. Though I paid a pretty good price for it.”

“How many?”

“Three. Bruised though, not broken. We landed this morning and I’ve already left everything for Hill on her desk.”

Bucky hummed. “You know she’s gonna be mad you broke into her office again.”

“Then she shouldn’t make it so easy for me to get in.”

Bucky chuckled again. “Anything else?”

You shook your head. “Not really. Came back here, took about an hour to get undressed and get into the shower.”

“Why didn’t you come and get me?”

“Didn’t want to wake you.”

A small scoff came from the back of his throat. “I’d rather you come and wake me up than put yourself through more pain.”

You just looked up at him. “I’m okay, Buck. I promise. Besides, it probably would have taken longer for me to get in the shower with you there.”

You didn’t miss the way the blush dusted his cheeks and ears when he realised what you were talking about. Then he laughed. “Okay, maybe you’ve got a point.”

You just smiled and kissed him again. 

“Want me to get you anything?”

You shook your head. “Not yet. I just need you and some sleep.”

With a soft smile, he kissed you again. “I think I can do that.”

Reaching to the back of the sofa, he pulled the thin blanket over you and him as you laid your head back on his chest. Within minutes you were fast asleep, his heartbeat beating steady in his chest helping you do so. 

[pimpingthesqueak]

temptations, temptations….

lads!caleb x fem!reader SMUT (MDNI)

synopsis: you have a crush on the popular coworker, and after a late night at work, he makes it clear he feels the same.

warnings: office AU! reader is down bad, caleb is just as down bad but he hides it better (in the first half), alcohol consumption, flirting, teasing, semi-public sex, risky AF sex, caleb cums first one time, multiple orgasms and overstimulation (both f and m), dacryphilia and breeding kink if you squint, praise kink, caleb becomes a mess a few times.

hi! this is my first published fanfiction so i am so so so open to feedback and suggestions. let me know if you like it :3

—————

your crush on caleb was pretty well conceived, you’d like to think. at first, it was just lingering glances, smiles and harmless jokes. he was a charismatic guy; there was no way your concealed feelings stood out in the sea of shared coworkers. sure, you talked to him a little more than everyone else, but your projects frequently overlapped, and you found yourself going to him, asking questions you already knew the answer to.

but you had standards. morals. don’t fuck your coworkers. you’d learn the hard way not to mix business with pleasure. so you admired. from a distance.

until that night.

working on a project ran late, but caleb was there too, so being the only two left in the office, you traded work to help complete your tasks quickly. you surprised him with dinner halfway through, and soon the conversation strayed from work, and more onto personal things…

“how do you see with these things?” he holds up your glasses to the light and squints through them, ignoring your protests to give them back. your prescription wasn’t even that bad, at least in your right eye. your left eye was a different story.

“very well thank you!” you huff and snatch the glasses from his outstretched arms.

“seriously, the right one is okay but the left one gave me a headache.”

“i’m sorry, we all can’t be perfect like caleb.” you roll your eyes but toss the glasses on the table between you.

“i’ve seen you type without your glasses before. should i be worried?” he smirks at you, his purple eyes shining with mirth.

why was he so infuriating? and couldn’t you wipe that grin off your face??? “shut up. they’re not that bad. but i memorized the keys.”

he stops for a moment. “no way.”

“it’s not that hard. you never took keyboarding in grade school?”

“yeah but i have to stare at the keys sometimes.”

“did i find something i’m better at than the infamous caleb?”

“not until I see you in action, sweetheart. come on.”

and you found yourself typing at your computer, typing simultaneously with caleb’s words with your eyes covered by his hands. your brain operates on autopilot as you focus on the feeling of his hands over your eyes, the heat from your body radiating from yours…

“are you even listening to what i’m saying?” his question breaks you out of your thoughts and then he laughs. “you totally weren’t because you just typed my question.”

your cheeks heat up and you push his hands away before he can feel it. “did i pass your stupid test?” you cross your arms and read over the words you typed out. there was a bit of The Bee Movie script, a recipe for a 7 layer cake and the beginning of Never Gonna Give you Up. *what??*

“i don’t know, pipsqueak. there’s some spelling mistakes.” he says from behind you.

you scan the paper again and frown. “no there isn’t, what are you-“

your words cut off when he leans over you and points to the screen. “there.” you weren’t paying attention because he was so close, in your space and you could smell him and he smells clean, despite being here in this stuffy office for over 12 hours. his body was huge, nearly folding over as he leans, and if you closed your eyes you could imagine that body wrapped around you, cuddling you, holding you in place as he-

you clear your throat and put some distance between the two of you, rolling the chair in the opposite direction a few inches. you look at the mistake to distract yourself. “that’s not a typing mistake, that’s a grammar error.”

if caleb noticed your demeanour change, he didn’t say much about it. “errors are mistakes, pipsqueak.”

“i have a name.” your eyes narrow.

“i know, but i want to use something that is mine.” he smiles, but there’s something deeper in his eyes, something you choose to ignore.

there wasn’t more productiveness after that, so you retired first, and he insisted to stay and clean up, and when you offered to help, he refused. so you said your goodnights and ran as fast as you could to the elevator to gather your thoughts.

what was that?

—————

you told no one about this, because frankly, part of you didn’t remember much besides your racing heart during that night.

but one thing was made clear to you: this was more than an innocent little crush. you wanted to fuck caleb, morality be damned. and he was so unsuspecting that you felt dirty, then a little hot then even more shameful.

and it didn’t help that he was ever the attentive, caring coworker. bringing you your paperwork from the printer, grabbing you an extra coffee, and talking about your favourite show that he just happened to start getting into in his spare time. you were fucked. and every time you tried to distance yourself to draw the line in your head, caleb was there, making sure you forgot why you wanted one in the first place.

a random thursday, weeks after the night you shared in the office together, you were sitting at your desk eating your lunch. suddenly you hear a chair roll up beside you and look to your left to see caleb leaning on his palm, staring at you with his dreamy galaxy eyes. you could lose yourself in them but you snap yourself out of it. “are you here to make fun of my lunch?”

“no. unless it has cilantro in it.”

“it does not.” you go to take another bite.

“go out with me.”

your food drops out your hand, landing back in its container. you face him, looking as if you didn’t hear him right. “what?”

“i’m tired of this back and forth.” he sits up then leans in, and his eyebrows scrunch together in that way that could make you do anything for him. “i want you. and frankly, so does james from marketing, so im beating him to the punch.”

you blink. who the fuck was james?

“say yes.” his voice was soft, but had a slight firmness to it.

“yes.”

he brightens and kisses you on the cheek before rolling away. “tomorrow, 7:35 PM. i’ll pick you up!”

you stare dumbly at your lunch as you process this interaction.

no seriously, who the fuck was james?

——————

the following day, you finally cave and tell your best friend that you have a date and she immediately comes to the rescue when you admit you have nothing to wear.

she knocks on your door and 30 minutes later you’ve showered shaved and scrubbed down your body. you’ve tried on so many dresses that you want to scream when finally you agree on something.

“if you guys actually make it to wherever he’s taking you, he’s not the one because i’d fuck you right now,” your best friend squeals and at 7:35 on the dot, you hear a knock on your door.

he was in slacks and a dress shirt, holding flowers awkwardly at his side. he was staring down at his feet while he was waiting for you to answer, and when you did, his eyes widened as they raked over your body.

your red dress fit you snugly, with thin straps secured on your shoulders and the dress stopping just above your knee and your wore high heeled boots to give yourself some height. you smirk as his eyes turn into saucers and take the flowers. “thank you caleb.” you giggled and gave them to your friend. who he didn’t notice until now. he cleared his throat. “good evening.” he nods at her then looks back at you, a bit more composed. “should we go now?”

gone was the confident, charismatic coworker that you knew so well. this caleb was… well he looked like he wanted to fuck you. which is exactly what you were going for.

your friend hands you your bag as you leave and caleb opens the door for you to get in the car.

during the drive you tried to converse with him but his answered were short, curt and he was gripping the steering wheel like he wanted to rip it off.

shit. maybe this was too much? you knew it. but it was a cute dress.

he pulls up to a restaurant that you’ve seen online for its exclusivity, the waitlist three miles long. but he offers you his hand as you get out the car and his mood was much calmer outside. the valet parks the car as you two walk inside. the hostess escorts you to a secluded part of the restaurant, a booth with dim overhead chandelier.

“caleb, you didn’t have to do this. i would have been okay with a dive bar under a strip club.” you smile as he scoots in beside you.

“no way josé, i gotta impress my work wife.”

you roll your eyes. “i’m not your work wife.” the wine comes, and you need it, because he’s so close to you, his cologne is tickling your brain in ways that is making your breathing quicken. you’re gonna need all liquid courage available.

turns out you weren’t the only one. caleb was drinking with a purpose between the light conversation, and soon he was staring at you with flushed cheeks and you were drowning into those galaxy eyes.

he chuckles wryly as your glasses get topped off again. “i imagined this differently.” he sighs.

you hiccup in reply, making the both of you laugh quietly in the muted restaurant. “i think we’re doing pretty good so far.” you say in between gasps.

he shrugs and puts his arm behind you, and you warm up, not because of the alcohol. “i thought i’d be cooler about this. more… macho.”

you snort and take a sip. “are you saying you’re nervous?”

“yes, absolutely.” you two laugh again and you look up at him. “i had a game plan and you ruined it.” he playfully glares.

“what was the plan?”

“fancy restaurant, with wine and dishes i can’t fucking pronounce because they’re french and you’re french-“

“i know french.” you clarify, then frown. “how do you know that?”

he ignores your question, and continues. “but then you show up in that dress, and your heels and fuck, you smell so good…” he leans in to the crook of your neck and inhales deeply then groans in a way that makes you squeeze your thighs together.

“caleb-“

he groans again and his head droops down onto his chest. “i had a plan. i really like you, and i wanted to treat you like a princess. but i cant think past your dress right now.”

your breath hitches at the confession, but he doesn’t care. in fact, he seems to be more interested at the way this dress shows off the swell of your nipples through the fabric. your head swims in pinot grigio and you let out a shaky breath. “I can back up, or give you space-“

“no.” his arm behind you wraps around your shoulders and pulls you into his space. and before both of you could think about it, his lips are on yours.

you hated any type of pda. but you couldn’t remember why as you deepened the kiss, a hand playing with the hair on the nape of his neck.

he groaned your name and soon the kisses turned desperate, but tried to keep their slow rhythm.

he has to be the one to pull away, because you couldn’t remember where you were, nor did you care. you needed him. you lean back in for another kiss but he pulls back and lets out a strained chuckle.

“I can’t kiss you again.”

“why not?” you huff but your bratty attitude is less efficient with your panting.

“if i kiss you again, im going to fuck you. and you deserve better than my raging boner. you deserve hearts and flowers and chocolates….”

“those can wait, we can do it for our second date. you already got me flowers…” you lean in and he pulls away again, increasing your irritation. screw moral compasses!

he sighs your name and you shiver. “i just don’t want this to be a one time thing.” he says carefully and watches you, waiting for your reaction.

you liked caleb. probably more than you should. despite the growing heat between your thighs and your nipples begging for this mans attention and he wasn’t giving it to you, you liked spending time with him. it was easy to be open with him, and he genuinely seemed like he cared about what you said.

he wants to be a gentleman. which was cute but you didn’t want cute, you needed something darker. and he looked like he wanted to give it to you.

“what do you need from me? written consent that i’ll allow a second date?”

he chuckled and it it resonated through your body. “i guess,” he says then looks at you, his eyes searching yours. “just give me another chance to get this right.”

you two stare at each other for long moments, his pleading eyes unnerving you. it seemed like… to him this was more than casual dating, and that made your heart go into overdrive. you look past your lust and swallow.

“caleb… this was already perfect. but i’ll give you as many chances you want.” no way you were letting this man slip through your fingers.

his body sags in relief and his hold around your body tightens. “oh baby, i just need one.”

you raise your eyebrows. “overconfident, are we?”

“for good reasons.” he was done talking, so he silenced you with a kiss. and this kiss made your head spin. You clutch at his shirt as he presses into you, almost lowering your body under his. but you needed him closer, and you needed these clothes off.

————

you weren’t sure how you got into this position, but you couldn’t complain. and if you could, you wouldn’t.

your dress was bunched up at your waist, panties ripped off, the remains tucked in caleb’s pocket. your moans echoed through the empty stairway accompanied with his grunts. he was fucking you with a one track mind; though his goal was completed several moments ago.

your hands clenched the railing, and his were clutching the fat of your hips like a lifetime. he wanted to have you quickly in the backseat of his car, take an uber to his house, and bed you properly. tenderly, still trying to salvage the night.

his plans faltered when you stumbled down the stairs and he caught you before you fell. your ass made his raging boner snug, and the wine in your veins made you bold enough to wriggle back against him. he groaned, kissed you and soon he was pushing his fat cock into your heat, fucking you, chasing a quick release so he could get you home and treat you properly.

and then you came.

the sight was unravelled him to the bone, your parted lips letting out a silent cry, your eyes rolling back and the way your back arch into him… it was a sight. you were a sight. but how you felt-

your nails dug into his biceps, your legs tightened around him as you fell off your peak. but the way your walls clenched, pulling him in, making it impossible to pull out…

he came, hard. flooding your heat with white and he wanted to close his eyes but he couldn’t, he couldn’t look away from you or your body, not even for a second.

you panted and smiled up at him as you came down from your high. but he glowered at you, and before you could ask what was wrong, he was taking you off his leaking cock and turning you around.

“hold onto this.” he ordered and placed your hands on the railing. that was the only warning you got.

he slammed back into you making the both of groan and he chased his high again, fucking you hard, and the new angle mixed with already being so sensitive had you seeing stars.

his balls abused your clit, and his mouth was all over your back. kissing your shoulder, licking your spine biting your neck, this man was in a frenzy. all while his long thick length bullied into that spongy part inside you.

he came first the second time, and came with a small whine that came from the back of his throat. “you’re unmanning me, beautiful.” he said shakily, and you whine in reply. it’s all too much, and his seed starts to flow out of you.

“oh no, we can’t have that…” caleb murmurs and he pulls out slowly, groaning at the sight of your walls clinging to his shaft. his fingers find your entrance and scoop up any cum that escaped before shoving it back in. then shoving his cock back into you in one go. you let out a broken moan as your knees buckle, but he holds you up with his hands on your hips and starts drilling into you again.

at this point you couldn’t be quiet, and your moans echoed throughout the staircase. your walls flutter, and you cum again, and your fluttering walls send him over the edge, deep groans coming from him.

you thought that it would be over, 3 times in minutes should have done it for him, but his thrusts turn erratic and broken versions of your name falls from his lips.

“I’m… so sorry.” he rasps, slamming into you like a man possessed. you barely understand him, your moans were cries of overstimulation, and he presses you into the wall. “y-you deserve better. so much better. it’s just, i’ve been waiting for so long… and I thought i could wait a little more but this dress…” he lands a particularly sharp thrust inside you, making your eyes roll back.

“i mean, could you blame me?” he pants and uses his body to push you snug against the wall. you couldn’t feel anything but him…. “you smell so good.” his nose runs along your neck band you shiver. “how am i supposed to think?”

“caleb…” you whine out. you were swimming in overwhelming pleasure, and caleb was drowning with you.

“fuck, sweetheart don’t say my name like that…” his thrusts were shallow, as if he couldn’t muster the courage to pull all the way out.

“i can’t…” you gasp as the coil in your stomach twists again. “caleb, i can’t!”

“i know… i know baby, i know…” he shushes you and kisses your neck sending chills down your back. He embraces you and you lean into him. for a moment, you caught your breath. his hands caress your skin and you sigh in contentment.

he peppers kisses along your neck and his hands travel lower. you though it was to fix your dress but his fingers find your clit, soaked with arousal, and tease the little nub. you gasp and you walls clamp down on his length.

“there she is…” caleb groans and starts to thrust again. they were slow, but deep, forcing cries from your lips.

“i promise, im gonna take you home and treat you like a real lady but i need you to cum for me one last time. can you do that baby? please?” his words were soft in your ear, a contrast to the brutal thrusts he was giving you.

you sniff and you don’t even realize you were crying. neither did he, because he looks down and wipes your tears. “you’re so beautiful…” he murmurs and he fucks you faster. the obscene sounds from between you two rand in your ears, but you were two fucked out to feel shame.

the coil tightens and your legs stiffen, clear indicator that your orgasm was close. he chuckles and his thumb traces your lips. “i knew you had it in you.”

suddenly the echo of a door opening falls on both of your ears and the both of you still. caleb hand covers your mouth and your eyes open in alarm.

you hear a male voice from several stories up, coming down the stairs. “yeah apparently someone heard screaming, but there’s nothing here.” he comes down another flight. caleb chuckles in your ear and you shiver. your heart races as the steps get closer. you tap his arm and his grip tightens. “quiet.” he says in a low voice and gives an experimental thrust. your moan is muted by his hand over your mouth but he groans softly then start to fuck you again, quietly.

you clamp down on his cock and his breathing hitches. the voice and footsteps come closer.

“i’m not going all the way down there.” the voice mutters then a door opens then closes and you two were alone again.

caleb’s pace gets devilish and the rapid approach of your orgasm makes it hard to keep your eyes open. your walls flutter sinfully around him. “i’ll … have to teach you… how to be quiet, sweetheart.”

you moan in reply and clench again.

“cum on me, baby. want you to soak me.”

you obey immediately, cumming on his cock, biting on his hand to hold back your cries. he curses, the pain shooting to his cock and he cums right after you, grunting your name as he paints your walls white.

his head rests on on your shoulder as he catches his breath, and when you go to rest your forehead on the wall, you head hits his hand instead.

a chuckle goes through the both of you and he straightens before pulling out. you wince at the loss and he forces himself to ignore that.

instead, he fixes your dress back into place and he turns you around. he looks sheepish, almost shy. “i promise i can treat you better than that.” he scratches the back of his neck.

better than multiple orgasms by his huge dick? “no complaints here.”

he chuckles and zips his pants back up. “let’s get you home.”

“your home?” you ask hopefully and he laughs.

“you thought I was done with you?”

————

like and repost, but please don’t steal

[holyguardian]

Aerith almost cast a wide-eyed look to Somnus as he was egged on to join her. This was all new to her — she understood he had a less than shining reputation among Lucian circles. Something that made no sense to her whatsoever. Though it wasn't a sentiment that his troops shared, right...?

The cheers and clapping all seemed to be in good fun. And Somnus himself didn't seem bothered being made into a spectacle, so she relaxed more into the moment.

There was a smile playing on her lips as she regarded her husband across from her. His head was bowed, his voice quietened. Though the light-hearted expression on his face was all the reassurance she needed. "At least you know better than to ask for mercy where you will not find it." she playfully commented, earning loud crows of support from the Lucian men and women gathered. Meek smiles had turned to grins.

She was gracious, she answered each of his questions fairly, even offered hints of advice without prompting. And yet she did not hold back. Their decks were equally matched. Neither one of them had a chance at holding cards that the other would not have, this wasn't an official competition, it was a playful game with mere starter decks.

Somehow she made it feel like she had the upper-hand at every turn. There were no draws. She baited him into a lane with an easy to turn card, and devastated him at his flank, stealing it all from him. The final tally was brutal. All three coins were placed with her. In the aftermath, she even caught that mention of Somnus being treated like a dirty dog and had the good grace to cover her mouth laughing. There was a pink tinge in her cheeks. She was only a little embarrassed being called out herself.

"I'm nice, I swear." Aerith insisted with her hands raised in defence. Though she was met with an encouraging pat on her back from none other than Leander, who grinned at her so warmly.

"You're also an inspiration to the troops!" Leander encouraged, making a gesture to their dear Prince. "For too long we have been demolished on a chess board. This is a new beginning, where we have equal footing to challenge Prince Somnus to a game of Queen's Blood."

Leander offered a wink to Somnus. It was all in good fun, and the Princess seemed to be at ease among them.

That was until she stood so suddenly the chair clattered and would have tipped had it not been for Leander's quick reflex. His head whipped to her and she looked... well, like she had seen a ghost. Something that half made sense when his gaze shifted to the face that pulled that reaction from her.

Loukas stood there. Dark circles stained under his eyes and he looked a little thinner in his face — he was already scrawny enough, yet in his teenage years. Whatever words he had meant to say to the Princess were swallowed into the moment of quiet that fell around them.

Though Aerith didn't need rescuing. After all, it had been her own sudden reaction that made a normal moment feel awkward. Softening, she stepped closer to the familiar soldier, and pulled him into a sudden embrace.

He immediately bowed his head, and a moment later his arms lifted to return the hug. She remembered him. And he would always remember what she had done for his family... when he pulled back, he managed a half-smile. "You are nice." that his quietened voice could be heard was a testament to how still the Lucian side of the barracks had fallen. Though small murmurs began to stir again. Then his eyes fell to Prince Somnus. "May I have the next turn?" At that, the murmurs picked up to encouraging words, egging the Prince of Lucis yet again to agree. As if he could have denied Nikolaos' little brother.

Leander was still Leander. It sounded strange, but having spent so many days apart, part of Somnus had bene nervous that his best friend would be upset at him. For not even seeking him out once. If any of this had given him even a moment of pause, he would have ran to Leander first, though.

To rant, to get input, advice – and drink some wine while mulling about the future.

Now they would have to catch up on all this right now.

Standing beside Leander as Aerith started to explain all the rules of her favourite game, Somnus felt as if the tensions and weights of the past days simply slipped off of his shoulders. Like they were nothing more than the woolen coat Aerith was already discarding. Standing here, they could simply pretend they… belonged. And he hoped Aerith would feel the same kind of relaxation among all the soldiers.

Shooting Leander another amused glance, Somnus nodded: “I am good, Ser.”

Really. It were the same undertones. They knew each other for years now, Leander would know that Somnus was answering honestly. It might come as a surprise. From the outside he was forced into an arranged marriage and shipped far off from home, about to be thrown into a war. But to Somnus… it felt like a new chapter that he could finally write himself, not have others write it for him.

He could not wait until he could tell Leander all of this and about how lucky he was to be arranged to marry someone, who… understood.

Well, part of him hoped this evening would already be enough for Leander to realize how special Aerith was to him. And vice versa.

Though of course Leander had to throw him beneath the Chocobocart. Somnus shook his head with a laugh, but there was no way he could escape this now. Everyone had heard Leander and they cheered him to sit down opposite of the Princess. If this were any other setting, he would have bristled at it all. But… this was easy. Being shoved by his best friend’s hand and sitting down across his wife, who looked at him expectantly. And… was that mischief in her green eyes?

He remembered her threat and promise of destroying him in this game one day. He could win in chess, but this here was her battleground now.

“Look at how much they want you to destroy me… I hope you give them a show.”, he looked at Aerith from beneath his dark strands, with his head bowed a little.

She had explained the rules of this game and yet Somnus had to ask some more questions as they started to play. In the beginning it was complicated. But… it added up. It was tactical. And there was part of luck at play, too. With every draw, Somnus could hear the soldiers behind himself squabbling closer and whispering tipps and what to do next. The same happened to Aerith on her side. Though they definitely were quieter there, because Aerith obviously knew what she was doing – and absolutely dominating this game. Somnus could not but grin at his ‘bad luck’ and how he lost coin after coin to Aerith. There was laughter coming from the soldiers. Some hollered comments. That it was quite clear, who would rule this marriage. The mention of a certain scene in a tent with an almost-naked prince being hosed down like a dirty dog was enough to cause a whole barrage of laughs and some clanking cups of wine.

It was teasing at Somnus’ expense, and yet he did not mind it at all. Not here, not with them, not for her.

“Ah, you all have no idea how happy I am, that my beloved wife only set a honey cake for her victory – seems she could have won my last tunic from me.”

[chdarling]

Frequently Asked Questions

Hi friends, I've decided to turn my ask box off for a while. This is not in response to any specific ask or any drama, I just can't keep up right now, and I continually feel guilty receiving asks I don't have the energy to answer. I've decided that guilt is not so great for my mental health right now, so I'm taking a wee break and figured I'd post some answers to some of the questions I receive the most.

Snippets and Spoilers can be found here.

***

When will TLE3 be released?

I don't have an exact date, but it probably won't be in 2025. I am giving myself the space and time to write TLE3 at my own pace and pleasure, and I plan to have a full draft finished before I start publishing on AO3. I promise when it's ready, you'll be the first to know.

***

Can I print TLE?

Please do not print TLE using any commercial printing service, as this is not legal (at least in the US, which is where I am). If you are printing and binding it yourself solely for personal use and in a manner that is 100% in compliance with copyright law – aka no one at any point in the process can make any money off of it – then I personally am fine with it (and very honored!). However, I cannot give approval for anything that infringes copyright law in any way. Thank you for understanding! I don't want to be sued!

***

Can I translate/create a podfic/create fanart for TLE?

I would be so unbelievably honored! I give a blanket approval for translations, podfics, and fanart, and I'm so, so touched that you would take the time to do this. I just ask that you ONLY post to AO3* and to please mark it as a related work so it's linked to the original. I may be slow to approve the AO3 email linking the fics, but I promise I will! Thank you!!

*except fanart, obviously. Do whatever you want with that. Although if you post it on tumblr, I would LOVE to see it. <3

***

Are you on any other social media sites?

No. I am ONLY on Tumblr, AO3, and the TLE discord. I don’t even use social media in my personal life, so don't try to find me! I'm not there!

***

Do you have fanfic recommendations?

I’m sorry, but I am not a good resource for this. I haven't actually read much fanfic as I spend most of my limited free time writing it. However, I always recommend checking out @jilyawards for a fantastic collection of the incredible talent in this fandom over the years.

***

Do you take requests for one shots/other fics?

No, sorry. I have my hands more than full with TLE.

***

Do you take suggestions for the plot of TLE?

No, sorry. I have the story pretty tightly plotted from beginning until the (very) end, and while I occasionally swerve down new creative alleys, I’m very committed to sticking to my original plan.

***

Is [super specific spoilery thing] going to happen in TLE?

You are of course welcome to ask, but I am almost certainly going to shout “SPOILERS!” and run away cackling.

***

You say this is a canon fic but [super specific thing that I don’t agree with] is included. What gives?

For the purposes of TLE, ‘canon’ means the original seven books. Everything else is dressing. I do include as canon a lot of the lore JKR provided in interviews while the books were being published (for example, James being a Chaser), however I tend to view all post-book authorial additions as mostly optional. I do use a fair amount of Pottermore in my story, but I do not keep up with new HP material, so it’s impossible to stay up to date with everything. For example, I tweaked the Animagus process somewhat to my liking as opposed to what is described in Pottermore. This is partly because I already had my version sketched out before that was published, and mostly because I did not like what was given on Pottermore.

I do not consider any of the films canon. If this alleged HBO show happens, I will not consider that canon. Video game? Not canon. I also simply do not know what the words ‘Cursed Child’ mean, as I am pretty sure this is from an alternate timeline in which I do not exist. Tra la la. :)

All of this to say: The seven books are the framework. However, I feel pretty strongly that within that framework there is room for many, many interpretations – particularly with regards to the Marauders era, about which we know so little. Just because my headcanon or characterization is different from yours (or vice versa!) doesn’t make it less canon. Similarly, just because something is not explicitly described in the seven books, doesn’t mean it is against canon for it to have happened in the background, unnoticed by Harry, or before the timeline of the seven books starts. See: Wolfstar.

***

Wait, there’s wolfstar in TLE?

Yes. There will be wolfstar in the series. I did tag it from day one, please stop sending me shocked and horrified messages! (lol) Because people have such strong feelings about this ship, I always feel the need to give my little disclaimer: There will be wolfstar. Personally, I love it and am excited to write it. However, if you are a fan of exclusively fluffy, happy wolfstar, you might be disappointed. If you are interested in exploring the fraught, occasionally toxic relationship between two angsty, repressed, and deeply traumatized young men during an escalating war…strap in, gird your loins, etc. We're gonna have some fun.

***

Why do you have two blogs?

Because I'm dumb. Because I didn’t know how tumblr worked when I started this whole nonsense and thought that a side blog sounded like a good idea…aaaaand then pretty much immediately regretted it. This was back before you could reply from a sideblog, so everything was a mess. I'm an archivist at heart, so I can't bring myself to delete @chdarling-tle but I almost exclusively use @chdarling these days. Feel free to only follow that one, unless you only want chapter updates and none of my silly reblogs, in which case @chdarling-tle is here for you. Otherwise it's pretty dead over there.

(ok, confession: this actually isn't a frequently asked question at all, but I shoved it in here anyway because the two blog thing annoys the shit out of me and I wanted to give some context for my disorganization. I meant well, once upon a time!!!)

***

Do you have a Patreon?

I’m amazed and flattered that I’ve been asked this enough to include it in an FAQ, but no, I do not. While I am so appreciative that people want to support this project, TLE is a work of fanfiction, created entirely out of and for love, and is in no way a commercial endeavor. I do not make a penny off of this project. I almost certainly lose pennies to this project. But that's okay! Because of the aforementioned love! And, once again, my deep and enduring desire to not be sued!

(One day I do hope to share some original writing, and if you feel so compelled, you may absolutely pay me for that, but I'm not quite there yet. 😉)

***

Ok but seriously when will TLE3 be released?

(sorry I couldn't resist)

***

Ok that's all I can think of right now. Thank you so much as always for your enthusiasm and support. My closed ask box is in no way a commentary on my appreciation for this community, I'm just very, very tired.

lots of love, CH

[qwertysquirti]

Sick Day

꩜synopsis: Rafayel is sick. You’ve decided to sacrifice whatever you had going on that day (which wasn’t anything, really) to come and tend to him.

꩜content: less than 1k, female!reader but the word "girlfriend" is only mentioned once so if you ignore that it's gender neutral ;), fluff, ur lwky a bad caretaker, rafayel is annoying

꩜an: i'm sick and his birthday is coming up so why not combine the two. also idk if lemurians actually get sick but let's pretend they do.

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You press the back of your hand to Rafayel’s forehead. “Jeez, you definitely have a fever.” You extract your hand and he sniffles.

 “I know you like walking out onto the beach at night but it gets cold out…” You scold, lightly. 

“Hmph. I already know that. I’d just done it so many times I thought I couldn’t get sick. I don’t even remember the last time I’ve been sick!” He begins to sit up but immediately lies back down again. 

“Right. Lemurians aren’t totally immune to colds, you know?” You giggle. He childishly juts his lip out and rolls over to lie on his side. What a baby. You exit his bedroom to see if he has any sort of medicine in his kitchen, at least make him some soup or something. You hear a ping from your phone before you can get too far, though. 

Rafayel: where’d you go? come back

You: To find you some medicine… Also, are you hungry?

Rafayel: wouldnt you like to know

Ugh.

You: Yeah, I kinda would. 😒

Rafayel: i guesss i could go for something to eat. hurry back tho

That was unnecessarily difficult. You peruse Rafayel’s kitchen in search of medicine and soup. You find a bottle of cough syrup that hopefully isn’t expired and a can of chicken noodle soup in the back of his pantry. You navigate his clunky kitchen and manage to prepare the soup. You walk back to the bedroom to see that Rafayel still has that stupid pout on his face. 

“I made you some soup and got you some medicine.” You smile, unable to take him seriously. 

“You took forever! What if I had passed away from my illness already?” He rolls his eyes. 

“Sooo sorry.” You tease. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, cutie. Literally.” He leans back into his fluff pillows and lets out a meek sneeze. You walk closer to his bedside and place the soup bowl and medicine on his nightstand. You pat his head, “Hehehe, my poor boy.” You happily gaze down at him. 

“You’re so cruel, laughing at my pain.” He lets out a weak cough, probably fake. “Just feed me.” He points to his mouth. Such a drama queen. You indulge him and pick up the spoon. 

“You’re so spoiled.” You sneer as you spoon the soup into his mouth. He says…something but you can’t understand him because his mouth is full. He decides on just glaring at you instead. He finishes the soup and you pour him a bit of medicine into the cap of the bottle. You put it up to his lips and he surprisingly drinks it up without protest. “Blegh. Do you know how long that’s been in there?” His face scrunches up. 

“Uhm.” 

You look at the back of the medicine bottle, the expiration date is faded but you can make out the date ‘11/23/24’. Oh that’s not as bad as you thought. Still kinda bad but not THAT bad. 

“It’s fine.” You grin, guiltily. He squints his eyes at you.

 “I’m gonna die, aren’t I? You’re the worst bodyguard girlfriend ever.” He dramatically plops down into his pillow. You shake your head no but honestly, you don’t know the side effects of drinking month old cough medicine. He grabs your hand and puts it against his cheek. “At least the last thing i’ll see is your cute face…” He coughs and shuts his eyes, letting go of your hand.

“Calm down!!!” You panic a bit. “I’ll get you new medicine!!” You place your hand back onto his cheek. He chuckles and opens one eye. 

“Did I actually scare you?” He dawns a cheeky smirk. 

“No!” He did, just a little bit. “But seriously, I should get you more medicine.” You take your hand off of his face, but he grabs your wrist before you can walk away. 

“Can you just stay with me for a while longer? I don’t want you to leave, not even for a second.” He pulls you closer to the bed. It seems he gets even more clingy when he’s sick. He wraps his arms around your torso and buries his face into your stomach so you can’t escape. “Just stay here, yeah?” He speaks into your stomach with a muffled voice. You run your fingers through his hair, how could you say no to your sick fishie?

“Okay. But I have to get that medicine eventually, I want you to get better.” You rub your hand down his back.

“I’m already getting better with you by my side.” He places his chin onto your stomach to look up at you lovingly. You stay in that moment for a while, until he starts having a coughing fit. “Right. Yeah I have to get another medicine.” You remove his arms from off you, and speed to the door. 

“Cutie–” Cough. “Wait!” Another cough.

“I love you! I’ll be back.” You say at the door frame before sprinting off to the nearest drug store. You get a text on your way there.

Rafayel: you left meee :( youre gonna make it up to me when im feeling better

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[elene78-blog]

TGR SPOILERS : Longing Jerejean

I want a damn fic where all of Jeremy and Jean's longing explodes.

How do you imagine it would be?

I can clearly see that they begin to test each other with caresses, comfort, hugs, and perhaps kisses on the face. But all this after Jeremy leaves his family and his stupid hookups (because this is going to happen, we know). He begins a mourning process similar to Jean's at TSC, but he already has ties to everyone, so his transition is smoother than Jean's.

And he has Jean. Jean, who has already been through something "similar." I have no doubt that when Jeremy gets out of his situation, Jean will tell him "I got out that way too," and will finally tell him how he got out of The Nest and that it was Riko who destroyed him.

With this, Jeremy never plans to back down. Not because he is in love with Jean (which he will be at that moment and it will be one of the elements that makes him take the step, but not the only one), but because he knows that he is doing the right thing. He knows that he deserves to get ahead too.

I can imagine Jeremy being depressed, but approaching Jean in the kitchen and asking him to teach him how to cook something basic, or at least tell him what those foods are called in French. They flirt gently. Jeremy takes refuge in his French study because he really likes speaking French. He begins to sleep the hours that correspond to him and to drink less coffee, to have more breaks because he needs them and he has deprived himself of them too much not to think. Go back to the therapist or find a new one. He plays with Jabberwocky a lot. I think he might pursue hobbies in organizing trips or something, thinking he wants to travel outside of California since he's never been able to go out much for his family, dragging Jean into it too.

They could talk about traveling to France together when the season ends. It's a promise between the two.

And they flirt gently, caress each other a lot (not sexually, not yet) and kiss each other on the face or hands. There are hugs too, although only at home.

Just for now.

They both know it in the first quarter of the next book.

Actually, all Trojans know this.

[katerinaaqu]

Odysseus and weapon of choice (a small analysis)

I find it interesting how the majority of artists and art depict Odysseus using bow and arrows exclusively and honestly I can see why. The reason is very good given how his bow is the most iconic weapon we see in the Homeric Poems and a weapon everyone remembers (pretty much the same as the great shield of Achilles if not more) and we do speak on Odysseus's great skill as an archer.

However...

I find it interesting how, ironically, Odysseus's weapons of choice is usually the spear. During the events of the Iliad Odysseus is mostly praised on his skill on the spear (compered to it even with great names like Achilles and Ajax), in most of his battles during the events of the Iliad (for example his fight against Socus and the Trojans in the 11th rhapsody) or in other events like the Odyssey Odysseus is observed to be armed usually with a spear (for example when he wears his armor to protect his men from Skylla he is seen to hold two spears in his hands) or even during the boar hunting scene, Odysseus's weapon of choice was not the bow and the arrow but it was the spear.

The fact that Odysseus has the bow as an iconic weapon is definitely not by chance given how Odysseus is known for his unorthodox methods that prioritize his safety over glorious battles. The bow and arrows usually were criticized as weapons of action by the Greeks as a cowardly weapon, something that is not supposed to be used by a warrior that respects himself. Known archer criticized for example was no other than Paris himself (ironically the same stigma didn't seem to apply to warriors like Philoctetes, maybe because of his fame and his importance as Heracles's companion, or Teucer most likely because Teucer was already stigmatized as illegitimate in some versions and being half-Trojan) It is not by chance that Odysseus begins his revenge against the suitors with a bow and arrows. It is a weapon that allows a cunning person deal damage from a distance and manage to ensure the odds being with himself given how he was surrounded by hostile men and he needed to even the odds as much as he could without engaging directly. However I find it extremely interesting how in combat Odysseus holds the spear as a weapon of choice, engaging more in close-range battle (even if not as closed as swords would permit)

In one way this signifies his duality in such a poetic way.

Arguably the bow and arrows unless shot through someone's vitals, is not a lethal weapon, at least not directly (thus Odysseus performing killing shots to the neck -Antinous- or the liver -Eurymachus-) and its aim is to cause damage enough to get someone out of battle, potentially occupying yet another person that shall take them to safety. Normally an arrow through a shoulder, a foot or an arm would not cause lethal damage especially through armor.

The spear if used properly is much more lethal weapon in combat. Odysseus is infamously seen doing a fair amount of killing using spears or swords for example killing Socus by stabbing him through the heart from the back or killing the boar by stabbing it to the shoulder. The weapon can also go through someone's vitals much easier given how it is used as close range weapon so someone has a visual contact with their opponent. A spear also even if it pierces an arm it can still sink deeper if the wielder keeps pushing it to an opponent.

This duality is also fitting Odysseus. On one hand he is a cunning person who wishes to deal damage to his opponent as much as possible. In that area an arrow would do the job; forcing an opponent to be nullified (potentially killed in the near future by infections to the wound) while occupying yet another person that would carry them out of the battlefield. and yet Odysseus apart from his viscous hits is a deadly fighter; someone who goes for the kill. With his strength and technique the killing shot can be delivered with a spear

However another duality can be seen

A bow requires precision, calmness and cunning to be drawn and aimed. Stability in hand and eye and good eyesight. It is a weapon of someone who knows the best strategy is to be away from battle, away from the main action. Which is what Odysseus does many times over

A spear requires technique, strength and power to be thrust properly and used and cause the maximum damage to the opponent and good hand coordination while fighting an opponent straight into the field of action but having in mind some distance between yourself and your opponent which again Odysseus does very often

Odysseus of course prefers to stay out of the field of action, perform his strategies when it is the proper time for him to go out at the field and get involved there. He doesn't care what name he gets as long as he survives another day. On the other hand Odysseus wants and craves praise and glory like any other warrior even if he doesn't always pursue it with the cost of his own safety. That purpose serves a direct battle, into the action and in the field. The spear that represents this more ferocious and proud side of his is definitely not a coincidence in my opinion. Odysseus is definitely a man prone to violence especially in battlefield and he aims for lethal force which is served better with a spear than a bow and arrow especially in times of pressure within the battlefield.

Cunning vs Strength, Caution vs Bravery, Survival vs Glory

His sides are served by the fact that his iconic weapon is a bow but his weapon of choice is a spear.

But what do you guys think? Leave your thoughts below! ^_^

[anxiousapplepie]

I am very curious and also concerned that the current Dragon King is potentially willing to genocide his whole race (or allow it if not perpetuating it) end a war, but I'm guessing it has to potentially do with the other two you included alongside what I believe is the look of the current Dragon King? (Far right, black hair and pink eyes) ... Actually, I don't think Rose eye colour rules work for the Dragons, now that I think about it.

Though it's a bit interesting and conflicting if the current Dragon King's reason (or at least part of it) for being okay with either extreme relating to the potentially very depressed Rose in his care (probably not human, eyes are too red for that. Though, can Roses actually smoke?? That's gotta be far more harmful to them than it is for humans.) and a Coloured Dragon child (his child??? Maybe???). Especially since this is a Black Dragon who did forsake his connections to others and community before. You know, following the info you already gave us.

... I think you gave me far more questions than answers. Whoops. And I doubt I'm connecting these dots correctly, but I'm pretty sure the partial revenge part is because of Rose Society's standards leading the brown Rose to depression and apparently smoking?? Who is probably the one person who got past the current Dragon King's metaphorical walls??

... Well, flip. I was gonna propose a theory I had on the Mythical Knight for my next ask before this just came and took up all my attention instead. You don't need to elaborate if you don't want to; I just have many questions about that small art snippet we got. But I could also be just completely wrong, and you can just tell me if I'm making a mountain out of a molehill. Good luck and I am very sorry for the word vomit. ☆

I am giggling and kicking my feet so much because I see you connecting the dots I've shared so far but also I'm laughing maniacally for reasons I cannot even begin to explain yet! (It's the colors. it's 100% the colors! XD) I will make two thing plain, though: the black-haired dude is indeed the "current" Dragon King during Lapis' story. And yes, Roses can smoke and it is Very Bad for them (for obvious reasons) XD

seriously you have no idea how much delight I got from your word vomit- I'd give you permission to check off your RK bingo card for a few of your ramblings, but that implies the situation with the Dragon King is that simple and clear cut XD

[kenzan-brainrot-mp4]

talk more about the white whale/whale symbolism in general whatever thoughts you have on the whale stuff i want to hear it 👂

GRAHHHHH YEAH (This one got. Long (again lol) So be prepared (series-wide spoilers but I feel like that's a given atp))

First of all I just wanna say that I love how rgg drags the player along around the final chapter title. With how upfront the other chapter titles are in what they're referring to, you might end up wondering why they chose White Whale for the final chapter title once you see the title card (or at least I did). Of course, this could just be referring to the treasure that everyone's been looking for, but with how nonchalantly they react to the fact that the treasure isn't actually there, it doesn't seem to completely fit the bill.

But then you beat the game (and by this I mean beat the final boss) and lo and behold, there's an Actual white whale, and so you think "Oh! Duh, the chapter's called White Whale because there's a literal white whale and it pretty much just finished off the final boss!" But that still doesn't make that much sense. Why name the final chapter (arguably the most important one) after some whale that appears in the last like 15 minutes of the game? Like, take the final chapter name of (Kiryu) Gaiden, it's literally the name of the game (The Man Who Erased His Name) so it's gotta be something more significant than that, right? (But then of course take into the account that by this point the player is still convinced that nothing really in pyih is too deep/serious, so maybe it could just be something as simple as that).

Then you get to the credits, and they reveal that the "elixir"/the ambergris is found in the stomachs of whales. Damn, that's pretty crazy/cool, but once again, nobody that was actively seeking the treasure (Rodriguez, Jason/Noah, Spade Tucker, etc you know the drill) seems to hung up on the fact that they didn't find it, and they didn't even encounter the whale, so they wouldn't get that same sense that they just missed it either, again, it's not a big deal really, so why make that the final chapter title?

Of course, we all know what this builds up to: the big reveal, the fact that Majima, who we've been following along with this entire game, was looking for that elixir this entire time, was the only one to actually encounter a whale in the game, and then there's the insane line drop from Saejima.

"Kiryu Kazuma. You never could give up on that one."

Ironically, the final chapter title has nothing to do with that whale you saw earlier at all, rather it's a summary of what Majima's motivations/actions for this game, and the past. Almost every game, has meant for him. It's what Saejima spells out for us at the end of the game, but said in even fewer words.

An all-consuming obsession that only leads to your destruction. An impossibility, something that you can destroy yourself over but never achieve/obtain. This is what the white whale means, metaphorically. And it is this, exactly, that Kiryu is to Majima.

Kiryu is larger than life itself, to just about everyone. He's a legend, he's the one Majima has had his sights on since the very beginning, the legend he chases after game after game and also what he destroys himself over game after game.

(see:

Yakuza 1 -> Majima just straight up taking a full-on stab wound for Kiryu. Like, buddy, I literally saw one of my favorite characters die that way in another game, there was No guarantee you were surviving that.

Yakuza 2 -> Majima fights off an army of yakuza for Kiryu. That man was beat to total Shit (which is Not something that happens often) and we all saw it

Yakuza 3 -> Majima re-enters the Tojo Clan for Kiryu even though he is (extremely likely) aware that it is already entering its steady decline that we see throughout the rest of the series up until its dissolution. And while he's willing to do it for Kiryu, we can't exactly say that he's happy about the situation as a whole.

Yakuza 5 -> Majima's willingness to die for Haruka, specifically stated because "She means more to Kiryu-chan than life itself." Like, of course he wouldn't just let Haruka get killed, but to choose to mention Kiryu as part of his reasoning in that moment? Christ

While I (surprisingly) can't say anything particularly self-destructive happened in (Kiryu) Gaiden and Infinite Wealth, you could argue that Majima trying to more and more directly tell Kiryu not to leave ("No need to rush outta here yet... Alright?" -> "Don't leave! Don't you dare leave, Kiryu-chan!"), knowing that it's likely pointless, knowing Kiryu, is not doing himself any favors.

Pirate Yakuza -> *gestures at the entire game*

Also his reaction to encountering that giant squid ("Sure is a helluva way to die. I think I'm into it!"). Like, okay. I don't want to try and read too much into it because it was very likely just a one off line. But I'm still gonna side-eye it.

Honestly now that I think about it, if Majima Had died fighting that giant squid (that is such a way to begin a sentence thank you rgg), you could argue that that would've been his nail in the coffin for the white whale metaphor. If he had, it would've meant that his obsession for Kiryu is what got him dragged down into the literal depths of the ocean, and even if it wouldn't be Kiryu physically dragging Majima down like the white whale to Ahab, this is a situation that is completely, entirely, fueled by Majima's obsession towards him (Majima had no real interest in the nuclear waste cleanup project, after all, Kiryu was his one motivation this entire time), and it would've drowned him.

Guess that means he got real lucky with the last part, but we all know he sure as hell isn't beating the allegations.)

All this and yet Majima seems to fail to reaching Kiryu time and time again.

Majima does not obtain the Heart of the Dragon, found in the intestines of the literal whale. He does not obtain eternal life for Kiryu. And he (arguably, though the final scene of him walking to Kiryu's hospital room could oppose this) does not resolve the indefinite limbo that has been sitting between them throughout the entire series. What he gets at the end of the game is the acknowledgement (through Saejima, everybody thank him) that he has been obsessing over this, and perhaps the realization that Kiryu was, in fact, this white whale that he would never truly reach ("Well, still just a dream in the end.") Of course this is something he already knows/has acknowledged deep down, and it's a feeling that is hinted at in some of his dialogue in scattered moments, but this is the first time he ever says it in such an outright manner.

I guess in a way, you could say that Pirate Yakuza is a story about the newfound success of all the people Majima helped and supported in achieving their dreams, and the continued failure of Majima in pursuing his own (Kiryu), and him needing to acknowledge/accept that. And the post-credits begs the question of what he decides to do with the aftermath and what he has left. (An oversimplification definitely but still. augh. Augh)

Naming the final chapter White Whale was yet another crazy move on rgg's part. Its so unassuming, seemingly straightforward yet also seemingly insignificant, but once the realization dawns on you it slaps you right in the face, just like everything else about this game does. It's yet another instance of how rgg managed to pull its big reveal so well, with all the small details, all the reframing, all pointing back to the same topic that it had spent the entire rest of the game dancing around.

Majima recounting his story of how he went to Hawaii -> Majima recounts his story to Kiryu in the exact same way at the very end

The treasure everyone's been looking for/known about + Majima, the one guy who didn't have knowledge about any of this legend stuff prior? -> Wrong, he was after the treasure from the very start (before the amnesia at least). For Kiryu

Majima originally being on course for Hawaii so he could help with the nuclear waste cleanup even though he'd be bored as hell? -> Nah. For Kiryu (Ohhhhh you know what this is reminding me of some screenshots I took from near the beginning of the game)

(I'm sure this meant nothing of course. Lol. Lmao)

Majima's dream during pirate yakuza being to fulfill Other People's dreams -> Haha. Well, I think you get the point by now

Kiryu, Kiryu, Kiryu. It all goes back to Kiryu, every single time, without fail, in an obsessive loop that Majima has been dragging himself around over for Years. He is the white whale, seemingly untouchable, the constant object of Majima's attention and devotion in so many forms, his consistent weak point, that only seems to dig at him deeper as the games go on.

Like I said before, while the white whale metaphor is undeniable, and essentially spells doom for Majima, it's not over for him yet. Because, hey, he didn't drown at sea, or die on the beach. He was saved, and he's survived enough to retell that tale and reflect on it all with Saejima in the post-credits, brief as that reflection was. I mentioned before how he really only said one line of any actual substance during that specific part of the exchange, but the significance of it says so much.

"Well, still just a dream in the end"

As much as it hurts to here Majima address the hopelessness of it all, to hear him say something like that after Saejima basically just laid out his sheer devotion and refusal to give up on his dream for everyone to see, I think the bittersweetness is. Good, actually. Captain Ahab never gave up on that pursuit on the white whale, and it destroyed him; that whale dragged him down until he finally drowned, and it feels like all Majima has been doing over Kiryu since Yakuza 3 is drowning himself in him.

Don't get me wrong, I (for now at least) do not take that line as a complete admittance of defeat, or Majima finally giving up on Kiryu, on that dream he could never let go of. (Like I've been saying, it's an acknowledgement, not exactly a declaration.) I do not think it means he is just letting go, full-stop.

But I do hope it means he can stop himself from self-destructing completely. I hope it means that he can slow down with the wild chase, (and that he and Kiryu can just. Sit down and talk like fucking normal people. Which i guess they are doing in the post-credits, supposedly) and I hope it means that he won't drown completely, especially in the case of the worst possible scenario.

[gars-weaponeer]

Today in: Clones Characters that deserved better!

Issue #2

-CID-

No it's not a joke- HEAR ME OUT!

First of all- I'm not gonna sit here and say that Cid was a good character and she doesn't deserve all the hate.

She is a horrible person and she totally sucks-

What I mean is that I feel like she was cut short and her story was not finished. This is not unusual with the Bad batch enemies and antagonists that are not cameos. Hemlock also suffering from this "half written" desease. The only one I think had a full arc and a satisfactory-ish end was Rampant but that's another story.

Cid in particularly resonates with me cause the old lizard has a very interesting design. She is a trandoshan and she is the first of her kind that we ever see being both female ( i think) and elder. Most of the other Trandoshans we have seen in the movies, videogames and series are mostly adult males. She is also an ally at first, which is also weird for a Trandoshan, being usually the go-to when writers need a "enemy alien". And sure, this could be read as she already being an antagonist from the beginning- But I never liked star war's trend of having a certain species being "the evil species." So having a trandoshan ally was something that I was excited about!

I wanna see more Trandoshan allies and more Wookie villains.

Sure, when we first meet her she is not the best person, making it clear to us that she cares more about money than making friends with the batch. Their relationship is strictly business like- However the more we see her during season one the more we see her connect with the batch. Specially with Omega.

Sure- She connects with Omega cause she notices Omega can be useful to her. But it's thanks to Cid that Hunter and the rest start to treat Omega as a member of the team, rather than a charge they need to take care of. She has also given her a few tips on how to use the bow that have helped Omega in the long run.

It almost seemed like Cid's arc was to eventually warm up to the Batch, they seemed to work well together and even ally well when time required it... so by the end of season one I was convinced this would be her path.

Then, season two episode 4: Faster, came along and I noticed something weird...

While some of us were drooling over Tech's masterful abilities in the racing track(me included)- I began to notice on the re-runs that there was a certain character development in Cid.

She seemed to really want to change, to become a better person from who she used to be. (btw, we never learn more about her past- which is not a bad thing, but it also adds to her missing pieces.) She wants to prove to Millegi that she is not the ruthless, spineless, money-driven tradoshan she once was and we see that determination in her face, for a moment.

This was the first and only time that we have been shown Cid to be vulnerable. Really vulnerable. And I find it strange for a character that we were supposed to "hate" in the end, to have a whole episode where we see her vulnerable side. Which kind of tip me off that Cid had more story to her that was inevitable cut down by the studio deciding to cut the series short.

At the same time, on the same episode, we have Millegi's warning about Cid. Something that is meant to be forshadowing. So by the end of Faster, we got this information:

-Cid is not a good person and she never was, so the bad batch is right for not fully trusting her. -But Cid wants to change, or at least wants to convince herself that she has/can changed. -However, she might have trouble in the future failing to not fall into old habits.

However... this was pretty much the last episode where Cid was relevant at all.

We don't see her again until 5 episodes later, in Crossing/Retrieval. Where the Batch call's Cid for Help and she just leaves them on read.

How.... did we pass from Cid having character development to she just straight abandoning the Batch with little explanation other than "This is more trouble than it's worth"?

And THEN- when we see her again is already at the end of the season, on episode 16- Plan 99. Where Cid has a conversation with Wrecker and she reveals to them that she *had* to sell them out.

But instead of sounding condescending or proud of selling them off. Being all like: "I told you what would happen if you crossed me!" or something like that. You know... showing us that she really didn't care to sell the bad batch to Hemlock, we see her reluctant and even regretful.

Like she really, really, didn't had a choice. Like she really, really, didn't wanted to do so.

But she did- Because in the end, she is still that old Cid.

She decided that looking after herself, going down her old habits, was better than risking her skin for them.

And YEAH WHAT A BITCH- But it still feels... weird.

Like I'm not being told the whole context.

After this episode we never see Cid again, she is mentioned and somewhat implied that she was tortured or killed by CX-2 but she kind of just fizzles out... And it feels wrong, seeing how she was an important member of the cast during season 1.

I'M NOT GONNA LIE-

I was *convinced* that Phee was going to be the evil one.

Phee suffers from the "Disney girl boss" fever and she is too perfect for her own good, which is another rant for another ocasión. - So I was sure that she would double cross the Bad batch. She couldn't be that perfect... right?

She would appear being all cool, and having Omega look up to her and the batch trusting her easily by how cool she is- only for her to turn on them cause she is a pirate.

All for the batch to realize they were better off with Cid.

A classic "not everything that shines is gold" kind of stuff. But obviously that is not what happened. Uu

So here is my take on what I think Cid's arc was supposed to be.

We have two paths: the Good end and the bad end.

-BAD END-

Cid would connect back with the batch. Apologizing for not offering help with some excuse like "The empire was on my back" or something like that. Trying to sell the story that she was looking out for them.

We would have more situations where the Batch start trusting Cid again, but Phee is the one that warns them not to keep playing her games. That maybe they should finally break ties with her.

Before they can do that, plan 99 doesn't happens and the Batch hurries to take refuge with Cid. This time they "trust" her enough to believe that they would be safe.

Only to then be revealed that Cid sold them out for a huge amount of money. Cid would be shown to be unapologetic, saying something like "It's nothing personal, it's just business."

Then we either never see her again, Or we would see her demise via greed on another episode. Maybe tied with the Durand for it to be more poetic.

Cid would be a character we would all hate for being a total bitch- but we would have more context and more flavor to her betrayal.

Full on villain mode.

-GOOD END-

Cid get's a redemption arc in this one.

Things would go normally. But it would be remarked that Cid silence was unusual.

After Cid's betrayal and Omega being taken away, we would later on see Cid finding Hunter and Wrecker again.

Hunter and Wrecker are upset with her- obviously, But Cid begs for them to give her a chance to explain herself.

She tells them that she went radio silent cause the Empire had arrived on Ord Mantel and that Hemlock made her a deal she could not refuse.

She did not wanted to sell the batch, but she had no choice. It was them or her.

This would Upset Hunter, which would probably say something like : "Omega trusted you."

This would hit Cid hard, since we were already shown that she and Omega had a little connection.

Cid would then admit that she was a coward and that she fell back into her old habits out of fear, but would decide to offer her help freely to Hunter and Wrecker as she owns Omega that much.

With Cid's help as an information matrix, we would see Hunter and Wrecker keep looking. Cid giving them tips and bits of information that could be useful for them to complete missions.

It would be thanks to Cid that they receive Omega's message and that they are finally reunited.

After that, Cid would continue to help them locate Tantiss. Cid stays on Ord Mantel, trying to act unconscious as to not bring the attention of the rest of the batch in Pabu.

However she is confronted by CX-2, (who is obviously Tech, I'll die on this HILL!), This time Cid would refuse to her her old habits get the better of her, and she would try to fight him off with her wits.

She would try to trap him on the old mines under, and when she thinks she has bested him, she would ultimately be killed.

Just as she is about to die, Cid takes out a detonator and destroys the cantina and all the information CX-2 could get from the Bad Batch. Honoring her word for once and completing her redemption arc.

This of course is just my opinion and speculation.

I could be reading way too much into this and Cid was never actually supposed to be that deep.

But either way, I just wanted to share these thoughts, as they keep me up at nights sometimes.

Overall, the end is still the same: The Bad Batch ended too early and lots of characters suffered for it.

They deserved better.

[notthecutesttrash]

No Love Lost

Satoru Gojo x sister! reader

This is PLATONIC

Content: Gojo is your big brother that you hate so much. You'd do anything to get him out of your life, but he's overbearing and simply won't allow that.

Warnings: ANGST, Gojo is protective and annoying, but he's Gojo.

Word count: 7.2k

With every fiber of your being, you hate Satoru Gojo. When you wake up, you hate him, in your dreams you hate him, when you eat you despise him, and when you lock eyes with him you want to punch him.

Reading is a nice activity, your brain quiets, and at times the words come to life and vacuum yourself inside its world. Satoru was there, and you hated that he was. He's bored, and you know he is, for he has so few friends that his main time was bothering his kid sister who didn't even like him.

He's talking, and you're ignoring him, or at least trying to. He already went on a tangent about how reading was boring and how you're a nerd, but when it didn't get through he began talking about his missions. His special grade, super fun, and classified missions that he couldn't tell you about, yet you hear about every detail anyway.

"So then I went up, and this dude tried to pick a fight with me almost right away, I mean seriously, it was pathetic. He didn't even last more than a second. I mean, why go on this whole supervillain monologue if you can't even handle a punch? Of course, the punch was by me, if you punched him that'd be different. He probably would've lasted a minute."

You turned the page of your book and swung your legs over the other. Right now the main character, Elaine was brushing up against her crush, you couldn't miss this for a second.

"I can't imagine what it's like being you, a grade three? If I couldn't go on these missions, I'd probably be depressed, what's the point of being a sorcerer if you can't have any use of it in the real world?" Satoru shakes his head to himself and brushes his fringe from his eyes.

Your heart is in your throat at the scene, surely they were about to kiss. They're near each other, and she's blushing, tucking a hair behind her ear. You breathe heavily, intently reading until suddenly you're staring at your hands.

Satoru reads a blurb and gags. "I can't believe you read this stuff, god that is sad, don't you think it's time for a boyfriend?" His throw lands the book gently back in your hands, and you slightly furrow.

"There's only so much protecting I can do anyways.

You get up from your chair and begin walking. "Oh come on, don't be so lame, I'm just joking...You really do need a boyfriend though. But I'd feel sorry for whoever the poor sucker is." Satoru is following a little ways behind, his arms stretching behind him with a yawn.

Words fall from your lips, wrapped in a harsh tone. "I don't like annoying people. Go away."

"Speak for yourself, you and Utahime are practically besties." Satoru reaches your pace, walking beside you.

Your eyes roll. "Well, Utahime doesn't piss me off. And she has respect, for that matter."

"Why all the hate, lil sis? I'm just trying to help you." Satoru grins wide, giggling like a jerk. He wasn't, he never was, he just wanted to make you mad.

In fact, as kids, it was even worse. Your mother surely favored him since he was so special, he had one amazing ability, let alone 2. His glowing eyes always reminded you of that when you sat and ate dinner across another.

Then whenever you wanted to play, and he would repeatedly say no and to play with your stupid dolls, you'd have to go crying to mom just to get a little bit of fun. Then when you'd be stuck with Satoru during ball, he'd throw your way so hard, if you didn't dodge it would've wiped your head clean off. When it'd disappear, like always, he'd shrug and go "Looks like we can't play."

When you were readying yourself to go on a stroll one day, he walked out and asked what you were doing. You were tying your shoe laces and you paid him no mind until done. Letting yourself hit the floor, you smiled and said "Going for a walk."

Before you could even make two steps, he flat-out said "No." You turned to him, narrowing your eyes.

"What do you mean, no?" You emphasized, annoyed.

"As in, no, you're not going for a walk, because you can't." Satoru was stoic, and his eyes simply glowed at you.

You crossed your arms. "And why can't I?"

"Because I forbid it." He said matter of factly.

You laughed dryly at that. "Oh pardon me, I didn't know you were dad. Yeah, I don't think so, I'm going for a walk. I know it hurts to see me have fun, but suck it up and deal with it, just like I do every day."

He stayed quiet for a moment, and you met his gaze bravely, both unwavering. The level of anger rising in your chest was surreal, who did he think he was? Then he turned and went back inside and you scoffed and said "Didn't think so."

It was only a few moments that had passed before your mother and father dragged you back, exclaiming in worry that you were unfit to do these things. You saw Satoru on their side, staring at you when you tried to reason with them.

"It's just a walk! Are you serious? You let Satoru go on walks almost every day!" You were gesturing angrily with your words at this point, and your mom sighed, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"That's because Satoru is strong, (Y/n), he inherited the limitless and six eyes, what if something happened while you were on your own? We'd have no way of knowing, and you wouldn't be able to handle it." She smiled a little as if hoping you'd just understand suddenly, that realization would hit your mind and you'd go "Ah okay." But instead, you were glaring at your brother, a fury gnawing at your clenched jaw.

"I hate you." You said before walking off, and you remember your parents gasping and saying how rude that was, and to come back and apologize at once. Satoru didn't say anything, he didn't follow your steps or track you.

You ignored them. The two people who were supposed to advocate for you, the two people who could really say something and let you do whatever you wanted. But they never did, he always said something about how "dangerous" anything was and swayed them instantaneously.

That was the first time you said it.

As a kid, you would even throw out, "I'm never going to speak to you again!" over and over until it never meant anything. But it does now.

You slammed your door as hard as a child can muster and repeated to yourself until then that you would hate him forever.

The next memory that you thought of so vaguely, was when you were on a date with a man you really liked. Maybe it wouldn't have worked, but you didn't know that then.

You sat across him, having several good conversations after another, and a few times he made you genuinely laugh. Whenever he spoke, you absorbed into his words like you were reading. Whenever he laughed, you laughed, whenever he smiled, you smiled. It was infectious.

Your concentration broke soon enough as you heard a chair screeching against the floor of the restaurant. Others stared in disdain, annoyed at the sudden intrusion to their ears. You didn't even want to look. Somehow, you had a feeling, you didn't know how, but you just did.

When you turned, Satoru was there, pressing his chair uncomfortably close to the table, and turning it towards him, so he could sit and lean his arms against the back of it. His jaw rested against the top and he watched you two with a sudden grin.

The heat of shame enveloped your cheeks and soon made your hands stammer with discomfort. Your date blinked awkwardly at him, and you held your forehead in your hands, scared of what he was going to say.

"Hey lil sis," he grinned, eyeing the man across you. Eyeing was an understatement, he was flat out making him uncomfortable, and your date shifted in his chair as gently as he could without arousing suspicion.

You wanted to argue right then and there if not for that man, you wished so bad you did.

"So tell me, what brings you here?" Satoru flat out asked, his face inching uncomfortably close to your date. The man scooted a little away, clearing his throat. Safe to say, he didn't know how to respond, naturally you wouldn't have either, especially not in front of your crush and their sibling.

Before he could even get a full response, Satoru started weirdly quizzing him. From "Gotta job?" to "Top 3 favorite movies, go!"

Your hand was gripping your fork tight, and the rage had you shaking in your seat as you watched him try to familiarize himself. Your food was becoming chopped liver, and he barely cared that this was breaking your boundaries by a long shot. He couldn't have just done this at any other moment, or simply have had the decency to ask.

"Let's say someone held a gun to your head, just figuratively speaking of course," Satoru leaned in albeit an obvious discomfort in your date "Would you hide? Run? Beg? Or would you fight?" When there was no answer he continued.

"Or you think you'd throw her in the crossfire to get some protection and cower behind her like a little girl?" Satoru's tone was a little less playful, and he lifted his shades. The blue of his eyes shone and sparkled.

"Um.." Again it was silent, and Satoru opened his mouth for another question, maybe even a rude comment for all you knew.

"Satoru." You made eye contact with him, your furrowed brows knitting tight, the flush in your cheeks burning. He returned your expression with a grin.

"What? These are important questions," he leans in close to the man again, narrowing his lids just a little, as if threatening. "I'm just trying to get to know you better." He pushes on the back of the chair, his cheek pressing at the intricate design.

Silence spread at the table, and your brother stared at the man intently, watching every little move and probably determining his entire future in one go. Eventually, it proved to be enough, and your date coughed a little and gently placed his napkin down. He was staring at you like a meek little prey, begging for your help, but you just ignored him, stabbing at your food in an upset, and managing to take a few bites while ignoring the scene completely.

"I think... I should go.." He stood and hesitated, pondering if he should say anything else, perhaps an "I'll call you later," or "It's okay," but instead he just nervously nodded at Satoru and walked off. You knew it was going to happen, and finally, you stopped eating, feeling a sickness in your stomach.

Satoru observed him until the moment he ultimately walked out of that door and was gone completely. "What a letdown, the guy didn't even have a decent movie to pick when I asked, how lame-" he kept talking, and talking, and talking, and you sat there, silent, glaring holes into your meal, your sweaty hands just shaking.

You whispered to yourself, "Unbelievable."

"I know right? Dude is definitely the type to run for his life if anything happened, and worse he can't even see curses, how do you expect him to do anything then? I can't be with you all the time you know, what if a grade 1, or worse a special grade appears, what do you do with a loser like that?"

You politely leave your fork at the side, and with all the fury coursing through your veins, somehow in a split second, your food is thrown at Satoru. It didn't hit him, but that wasn't the point, and he finally stopped.

You rummaged through your bag furiously and threw cash on the table before getting up to leave.

"You're unbelievable."

These thoughts always played in your mind as he walked in front of you, walking backward nonchalantly and smiling like a dork. You stopped and stared at him for a while, annoyed, and he refused to gather a hint. Eventually, through his words, you spoke, forcing him to stop.

"I hate you." Those words left your lips, and Satoru stood still allowing you to walk past him.

The more you walked, the less he followed, and finally you found yourself being completely alone and in a peaceful silence. You entered your dorm, curled yourself into a ball on your bed, and continued reading for the rest of the day.

The next morning you'd have a mission all to yourself, and you'd prove to him that you didn't need his help.

You were forming a veil over an old graveyard. The wilted grass crunched beneath your feet, and you paced quietly past dated tombstones. A gust of wind brushed against your warm skin. Naturally, your weapon tilted in response, and you held it tight with a clammy grip. Grade 4 curse or not, a tightness in your chest prevented you from feeling fearless.

A flicker of blue appeared and vanished at your side, and instinctively you whirled your head to an empty space. It was quiet save for your small breaths, and your fingers trailed against one of the icy tombstones. A groveling noise alerted you. Harsh jarring cries and your head was whipping around to find its location.

"Mom, why'd you have to die.." A sad slurred voice mumbled, and when you turned to your right, you found it. A mass amalgamation sitting at a grave and cradling its oversized puffy legs to its giant irregular head.

"Oh Mom," it trailed again, its voice tuning in and out. You got into a readied stance, and it wasn't even paying attention to you. Blood lurched from its eyes, peeling from its lips as giant fingernails ripped its skin down.

Reaching into your bag, you pulled out a small knife and pitched the blade towards the curse, hoping it would get its attention.

The creature made a drawled-out long moan when It poked its skin and fell to the ground with a thud. The head rotated to you with a sickening twist, and your eyes met for a long beat.

Suddenly a sharp jab smacked you in the side and sent you flying. Your back fell to the floor and with a grunt, you instinctively touched your ribs that squealed in pain. Weapon still in hand, you forced yourself to stand and ready yourself.

The curse moved like goo, jiggling with every movement it made, and leading a path of slime in its wake. Rushing towards it, you swung your blade and carved a deep cut inside its abdomen. Dodging an attack, you did the same towards its back and jabbed your foot into its spine.

The creature tripped and caught its balance in time to turn around and swing at your cheek. Again you bounced on your back and slammed into the ground. Its heavy steps stomped and slushed against crinkled grass. Exhaling a grunt, you pressed your hand into your ribs and forced yourself to stand. You weren't going to go down that easily.

Its large fist aimed at your chest, and you rushed away just in time to press your shoe hard against the back of its knee, making it moan and falter. Your other hand sliced at its skin just barely before it spun and it attempted to land you square in the jaw.

You moved, and it repeated into a trade of jabs and cuts until eventually it found an opening and swung its knee into yours, making you reactively grab it. You were swept off your feet, this time slamming your side against a tombstone.

Groaning, you tried to get up while the curse strolled to you. Blood seeped and poured down its leg, and it seemed a bit slower. It didn't seem right, all of your hits and deep stabs should've killed it by now.

"Oh, mom.." Its drawn-out words made their way to your ears once more, blood cascading down its mismatched eyes. Exhaling a sigh, you pulled your weapon closer, waiting for it to be near.

Slicing your blade into its eye, it cried out, screeching and flailing like a child. It held its damaged eye like a human and wept, repeating its earlier phrases. Growling, you punched it while it was distracted, and although you knew not to test the unpredictability of its limbs, you got greedy. All it took was for one of its hands to beat into you and your body met with a tree.

With all you've done to it, it was too focused on weeping its tears while walking to you so casually, it was insulting. Your hands pressed against the ground, and your ribs ached at the movement. It was coming closer and closer, and you were doing everything you could to stand up.

Just one last time body, one last time and you'd handle it. Mustering all your strength into your legs, you forced them to stand. You were going to do this.

Your eyes met up with the curse again, and it dripped while walking towards you. You found a plan this time. The liquid poured into the grass, its skin peeling like a fruit. You knew what to do. You got into position and held your breath, waiting.

It got a few steps closer.

Waiting.. waiting... waiting... now!

Your muscles were about to break into a sprint, and before they could do that, it stopped.

White hair. Satoru appeared in front of you like some twisted guardian angel, and before you could respond, the curse was blasted away instantaneously. Just like that, all of your work to nothing.

The silence was loud, and what felt like a minute passed before Satoru muttered an annoyed, "What a stupid mistake."

A rage rushed to your head, and your skin was already beginning to burn. Satoru rotated to you and began checking a small bleeding gash on your forehead. You didn't even know what to say, you were dumbfounded and blinded with emotion.

"Man I'm gonna kill those old geezers," he sighed exasperatedly.

"Are you serious?" You asked quietly, more to yourself than anything.

Satoru pulled back to get a read on you, "huh?" He seemed confused.

"Are... you serious?" You emphasized one more time, this time to him. Your eyes were wide, peering into his own.

"I sure as hell am, what were they thinking? Putting you on a grade 2 mission? I think the age is getting to their head—"

"It was a grade four." You reasoned as calmly as you could muster.

His expression gave you a past image of you as children. The way he'd look at you when you were annoyed and just didn't care.

"Grade 2," He stated.

You grumbled, "What are you talking about?"

"Those idiots thought it was a grade 4 and put you on the mission, they could've gotten you killed." He seemed genuinely irritated, as if saving you was so annoying.

"I was handling it just fine," you reasoned. Grade 2 or not, you were going to get it.

He scoffed at that and fell into a more relaxed position. His demeanor turned half playful, but you knew him well enough that he was hiding his anger. "Like hell you were, look at you. What was your big plan there, run him around just out of touch and wait until he trips on his own slime and finish him off there?"

When you didn't answer, he laughed, his hand pressing against his forehead, pondering the idiocy. "You're not serious are you?" He snickered dryly, shaking his head. His blue spheres were blown out as he thought of what he was going to do to those guys back at Jujustu.

You turned to the side, a mix of shame and anger hitting you admitting that it was close to your plan. "I didn't need your help okay, grade 2 or not, I'm a grade 3, I can handle-"

"No, you can't." This time Satoru was serious, and he was scowling. "You should barely even be a grade three, the only reason you are is because I felt pity and spoke up about it. I know you can't handle it, and I should've never expected you to."

The way your lips spread in a gasp had your comeback quieting. "What..?" You just barely whispered, and when you continued, your words croaked out like it was the hardest thing to say. "But I am a grade three, I worked for that, I practiced.. every day."

You inhaled a deep shaky breath at the thought, but at remembering that this was just Satoru, who never believed your accomplishments anyway. You seethed, "I am, you just don't think I am, you always think I'm weak." Your voice was starting to rise, and you were losing yourself in a fit of anger and nearly stomping like a kid in a tantrum and jabbing your finger at his chest.

"That's because you are lil sis, do you think without my help all these years you'd really be alive right now?"

That sentence made you growl, and he thinking that the conversation was done, started casually walking away like nothing. He was not going to get away, not this easily, not without any repercussions just like every single time.

"What is your fucking problem?!" Your shout made him briefly pause.

"My problem?" He asked like you were crazy. Satoru makes his way back to you, watching how you wince at the throb in your bones, yet still somehow find a way to gesture at him.

"My problem? My problem is that I can't walk away for 10 fucking minutes and leave you alone to get some peace, instead, I'm stuck babysitting for the rest of my life."

"And you think I want you to babysit me? You think I don't want some freedom? You know what... if I die... I die, that's it, end of the story, and better yet, if I die and you had the power to stop it, don't ever feel bad," you laugh sharply, not even thinking before your words at all.

"Because when I'm about to die, I don't want to see you, and even when I'm dead, I don't want you 10 feet near my fucking grave."

It became quiet for a still moment, and the air felt tense. There was a lump in your throat, but you were so filled with resentment you couldn't stop.

"Mom and Dad aren't here right now, it's just you and me, and you think that because of that, I'm grateful to have you here? That because you're a special grade and I'm the weak little sister that you feel like I'm a civilian under your wing? Just.. fuck you, I'm tired of you. I'm tired of you in my goddamn face acting like we'll ever be friends, not with how you treated me as a kid. Not how you treat me now." By the end of your rant, you were practically panting in a fit of rage, your face beet red, and your index still pressing into his chest.

Satoru was quiet, unreadable, and again, just like when you were kids, he had that face that looked as if he didn't care, or as if he knew he was right. You inhaled sharply in an attempt to relax.

"You.." you started again, and already knowing where this was going to end up, tears were forming, and the tightening of your throat made it impossible to speak without a sob leaving.

"You're supposed to love me.." You barely managed to utter, a few cracks in your sentence. His form visibly slumped, and his jaw clenched. You turned your back to him and crossed your arms, a heavy pout turning your lips. You made a move to walk away, and Satoru's hand tugged at your shirt.

He pulled you over his shoulder effortlessly and held you there tightly. It wasn't like you to not flail around and smack him flat in the shoulder, but you stilled. Your rib hurt anyway, and the last thing you wanted to do was break it. That wasn't really the reason why. You gave up, but you couldn't let anyone know that.

He started walking, and because he wasn't able to see, a few tears fell, and you wiped them away before it became a storm.

The walk was silent, and Satoru hardly ever is. But you knew he must've been mad, and admittedly that felt worse. This is just how it was. It's like nothing ever changed in this moment.

In an effort to get yourself comfortable, as much as could be, your body seared with discomfort, and you limped with a sigh. You're tired. You think a nap after all this would do you good.

Your lids gently closed, the swarming headache stinging a little less.

Satoru could feel you sleep, and his hand pressed tighter against your legs in fear you might fall. He knew he wouldn't drop you, he wouldn't drop anyone, not with his strength alone, but he worried and told himself, just in case.

When you woke up the next day, your injuries were all wrapped up. Bandages stretched from your back to your front, and when you tried to get up, it hurt your sides like hell. Laying back down, you sighed, studying your ceiling fan that very lightly circled.

Upon notice, you saw that at your side above the nightstand, there was a stack of books. Not many that you haven't read, and plenty your type. Gently reaching out so as not to strain, you very slowly pulled one into your lap. It was a red hardcover with light pages that had a maximum of a few hundred.

After reading the first few in your boredom, your teeth were already dragging your bottom lip in anticipation. And when you placed it down for a break, you surveyed your room. The blinds were shut tight as if someone was afraid that light might force you from your slumber.

Again, you forced yourself to get up, ignoring how your sides ached. Your legs were shaking once your feet hit the floor, and they were so sore it felt like stone. An incoherent grumble left you once you got off the bed. Pressing your hand into your ribs, you found yourself shouting when you attempted to make a step.

In an instant, your door slammed open, and Satoru stood for a few seconds, watching how you leaned your hand against the nightstand to balance yourself.

"Are you stupid or something?!" He shouted, and before you could even answer he had you sitting down forcefully and his hand held you there when you tried to push your weight to stand again.

Groaning, you smacked his hand away, "Leave me alone Satoru, I can do just fine." Usually with that, he would drop it, but it remained, and you shot him a dirty look.

"You're not moving until they say you can move, so lay back down." Your scowl persisted, and you were mentally jabbing holes into him.

Satoru gave you a look he had never given you before. He glared so darkly that you wavered. His hand pressed your shoulder down and he gently lowered your upper half so you wouldn't feel pain.

"And what am I supposed to do? Sit here for 3 months staring at the ceiling?" Huffing, you complied and laid down in a decent position.

"That's why I got you books." Satoru tapped at them. "All the gooey, mushy, trashy romantic books you can want," he went back to joking, but you didn't respond. You surveyed him while he fluffed your pillow, and folded sheets over your body.

His eyes crinkled just a little bit more, the blue of his eyes was unsettled, and his lips pouted just slightly. "Did you sleep?" You asked. He raised a brow as if it was a dumb question.

"Obviously, why?"

You hummed. "Nothing." Then added, "So when can I get up?" You made sure to add some spite to that sentence.

"Until I say so." He responded, and just because of that little authority he always managed to pull out, you scoffed, unable to hide the irritation. You left it at that, and it was quiet for a few minutes as he still kept organizing your sheets.

Neither of you met each other's glance, and it was a swift match on who could advert the fastest when found. Eventually, the tense silence was broken, and he spoke.

"I know you hate me, you're annoyed, but I don't care." You peeked up at him, then glared at your wall.

You grumbled under your breath, "You never did."

Satoru didn't respond this time, and when he was finally done fixing your sheets, he made his way to your door, then as he was about to close it after him, he declared, "I always did," then left.

Rolling your eyes, you spun to your good side and faced the wall, all your thoughts about your past rushing to you.

Your mother politely dragged a knife through her steak and with each portion, she lifted it to her lips so calmly and ate, dabbing her handkerchief to her lips after. Why couldn't you do that? She looked so graceful, and you just wanted to copy her, but when you tried the knife kept bouncing off the meat and dragging loudly against the plate.

Grumbling, you tried again, and your steak nearly flew out. The anger overtook your small little hands that pounded at the table in respite. Again you tried, and when it didn't work you frowned.

Satoru let out a small sigh and removed himself from his seat. His hand grabbed at the knife and he pulled your plate to his angle and began slicing perfectly little thin pieces. The meat was tender, red, and juicy beneath its skin, and when he even offered you a portion, you opened your lips and chewed it with a pout. You were mad, so mad, but the steak was delicious, and you couldn't erase the shame of not being able to just do this one thing for yourself.

"Do you like it?" He asked, and you mumbled a yes as he fed you another slice. If you didn't, he'd have someone instantly prepare it again after all. Eventually, he sat, and you glared at your plate, glancing between him and your parents who so nonchalantly ate. His face was stoic, and you were sure he was annoyed.

After a while of contemplating if you should eat the rest, you did, all with disdain.

You practically finished a book within 3 days. You laid it at your side and studied the ceiling. There wasn't anything interesting about it, nothing new, no curves, grooves, or chips. Your eyes were drooping, falling ever so slightly at every circle the fan revolved in.

On your bookshelf, there was a small activity book, one of those that you write in and play little games like word searches and whatnot. You kept it there for a while, probably had it since you were 12, but you needed to do something besides just laying here and only occupying your mind.

Satoru isn't here, and he won't be for a while doubtfully. It's been 3 days, that's still better than day 1, so surely you can just get up and pluck it from its bond. Or, you could just wait until he was back, and ask for it. But then he might be offended that you didn't care to read the books he brought for you, and besides, you didn't want to harm your pride by even showing you needed the slightest bit of help.

Were you that petty? Yeah.

Lifting your upper half, a throb rang in your side, and despite this, you planted your feet firmly on the ground. You bit back the grunts and mumbles and made your way to the shelf. Once you were there, you heaved a few breaths, already feeling winded. Your heart was stammering, but you just had to grab it.

It was on the tallest shelf, of course, it was, and you stood on your toes. Your calves were hard and tightened to stone, leaving you anchored to the floor. Cussing, you pulled all your weight and attempted to touch just the top before your finger slid off and fell.

Your teeth were gritting, and you again tried, fingers shaking at the attempt. A hand touches your arm, gently guiding yours down before it reaches out and grabs the book for you, just effortlessly. Your feet drop, and the wince that follows is inevitable.

"You're really doing this again?" Satoru asked, his voice holding a familiar irritation.

You swat his hand away and turn to walk back on your own. "I don’t need you to play nurse. I’m fine, okay?"

Satoru raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he watches you. “You’re not fine. You’re barely standing.”

"It was just to get a book Satoru, relax. Did you think I was going to go outside and start jogging?" Your sarcasm always rose with the frustration, rooting you in place. He wasn't going to allow you to stand with your injuries for the sake of mindless arguing, so first he shut you up and swept you off your feet like some bride.

Huffing, you flicked at his chest with your index and thumb, rolling your eyes. "Can you stop treating me like I'm a porcelain doll? The bed is right there, I did fine getting up by myself." Satoru laid you down gingerly, even did so much as flipping your pillow so you could feel cool. Still refusing to answer, he checks your bandages and when he confirms they're still fine, he pushes your legs down and forces your body to relax whether you want to or not.

“I’m not treating you like anything. But you're not getting up, and I’m not watching you hurt yourself over some stupid pride,” he retorted.

There's a minute of silence, and you're adverting your gaze out of pure pettiness. Satoru sat beside you, the weight easing the mattress down.

“You can be mad all you want, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re stuck here for a while,” he said, a small lingering softness in his tone. He places the book you wanted by your side, and you open your mouth just partially.

You glance at him from the corner of her eye and a wave of irritation hits you. You aim to voice something sharp but don't. Instead, you lay back against the pillow and cross your arms.

"I don't want your help.." you mumbled. The thought of stupid scenes like him cutting your steak, or intervening on your date rushes back. You want to hate him so much, you really do.

He never stops hovering and making everything about him, pushing his help on you when you never needed it. You hate the idea of him thinking you can’t handle things on your own. You're not helpless.

But no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you want to shake him off, he’s always there. Always trying to protect you, and always being there before you could even let yourself fall.

"I'm still here though, whether you want it or not," he declared, and a heavy pout formed.

You mumbled, "Yeah.. whatever.." A moment passes, and you flicker your glance more to the side, holding your arms tight against you. "Can you get me a pencil..?" Satoru laughs, genuinely.

"Gonna draw out all your frustrations?" He asks smugly.

"I'm going to draw me stabbing you." You joke, biting back a laugh that makes you grin wide. You still weren't meeting his gaze, but his grin was returning, and he knew it was a joke.

"Show me when you're done, I'll give you a gold star and put it on my fridge." Satoru chuckles, and the laugh you are holding escapes.

"Shut up." You shake your head, rolling your eyes. "Go away, I want to read now."

Satoru nods, and the weight disappears at your side.

By the fourth week, Satoru was giving you your space. It didn’t mean he wasn’t eyeing you carefully whenever you stood or walked around, but he didn’t fuss over every little thing as he did at first.

You sat by the window, your arms draped over your knees. The frown on your face deepened, the weight of it pressing into your forehead as you gazed longingly at the outside world.

"You could at least try reading some of the books I got you," Satoru teased, a playful edge in his voice, though the tension between you two lingered. "I had to stand there for over an hour, hearing women gush about them."

You stared at a pretty blue jay that landed atop a branch, a tiny bit of envy stirring in you.

"I already read two and a half," you huffed, pressing your palm to your cheek. But really, your thoughts were elsewhere, on the world outside. The need to be out there gnawed at you, like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

Satoru grinned yet he made sure to keep his distance, knowing your patience had a limit. “Well, that’s a good start. Could be three soon enough.”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you studied the window, your thoughts swirling like a storm. His words barely registered. Satoru noticed how your gaze followed the blue jay as it flew away, the disappointment turned your features.

After a moment, he stood from the chair, his gaze softening as he studied you, quiet for a second longer than usual. Then, he gestured toward you. “Come on, let’s go.”

You blinked, raising an eyebrow. “To where exactly? The wall?”

Satoru just chuckled, but his eyes were serious. “Outside. Smart ass, come on.”

You froze, before rushing to your feet with a gasp, excitement mixing with a usual rush of nerves. His hand found your shoulder just as you moved, his touch warm but firm, and he forced you to sit down. “Relax, not like that. If I see you running, I’m dragging you right back inside.”

You huffed, a sudden irk clenching your jaw, "why are you always like this?" You grumbled, shooting him an exasperated look.

"Because if I wasn't, you'd be so stubborn that you'd end up recovering in 12 weeks instead of 8." A pout befell you. That was true, but you didn't need him to say it.

Satoru flicked you, "Don't be a brat, if you're gonna drill holes at the floor, do it outside and sulk there."

"I'm not sulking," you bit your cheek, "and I'm not being a brat."

Satoru laughed, patting your shoulder. "Right, that's hilarious, now go before I change my mind." Despite his playful tone, his grasp was a little reassuring.

"Well, I still don't need you hovering over me," you pointed out.

He took a step back, tightened his grip only momentarily, and spoke firmly, "Well I'm not asking for permission."

Scoffing, you got up and forced yourself to walk to the door. Your hand stretched out, fingertips touching the knob and lingering at the cold that hit you. It took a while before you could really place your hand over it fully and use force to turn it. Upon opening, you felt happy, a realization hit you, and it was like your feet were anchored in nerves.

Satoru waited patiently, and you glanced back at him, unsure. Was he going to close it or lead you around like you were a scared puppy? When you blinked at him, he smiled warmly, and you bit your lip. It almost felt like a test.

You stepped out quietly, pausing for a few seconds. The breeze hit you once you crossed the threshold, and you hadn’t realized how much you missed the plush green grass and the pretty flowers at Jujutsu. Tears brimmed at your eyes, and you wiped them quickly away.

Satoru followed, stopping a few feet away and leaning against the wall as he watched you. You wanted to run, to rush out and scream, to release every frustration you had buried. But instead, you stood there, taking in the moment. It was so peaceful.

You sat at the edge of the porch, your feet hanging off the steps as you watched the grass sway in the wind. The purple flowers pressed together, moving in unison as the breeze swept through. The sun’s gentle rays warmed your skin.

Satoru took a seat beside you, giving you just enough space to not disturb the quiet. You turned to him, smiling, and at that moment, you knew it would be okay. He returned your smile softly as if he understood too.

It was quiet for many minutes, maybe even an hour, as you sat there and stared at the sky. You watched as lazy clouds transitioned slowly, drifting across the blue. Your chest felt warm, and you let your feet dangle freely.

Satoru’s eyes flickered to the sky for a moment, but they didn’t linger. He was tired—too tired. The dull ache behind his eyes told him everything. The weight of the silence pressed against his shoulders, and a noticeable slump in his posture gave away the fatigue that settled in like a heavy blanket.

He could feel your gaze on him, and for once, he didn’t want you to see him like this. He would never admit it, but his breaths grew shallow. He was starting to droop.

You touched his shoulder lightly, and he blinked up at you. "You should sleep. I'll be fine."

His expression softened for just a second, a hint of gratitude breaking through the usual guise. A small sigh escaped him, but he quickly masked it with a forced grin.

"What makes you think I’m falling asleep?" he scoffed, trying to convince both you and himself.

You softly sighed, a frown tugging at your lips. "Just go to sleep. You've earned it."

A wave of guilt washed over you, and you tried to mask it with a quick smile. He caught it, and a warm, unguarded grin spread across his face.

There was a quiet understanding between you both. The calmness of it was new, and you didn’t realize until now just how much it meant.

You turned back to the scene, watching as the sun slowly settled, the warmth leaving your skin in the waning light. You could hear Satoru press back against the wall and release a gentle, tired breath. His eyes closed, and when you turned to look at him again, you saw the peaceful rise and fall of his chest.

You sat close, leaning against the wall beside him and closing your eyes to sleep. For once, you felt an unwavering peace beside him, and you wanted nothing more.

[stew-ob-blog]

Empath's Choice

Kayla approached the hospital doors but began to slow down as the butterflies in her belly fluttered harder than before. She took a deep breath and tried to convince herself it was only extra excitement eager to get out — a technique she remembered from a YouTube video she watched half of once. It didn't help. She settled on calling it first-day nerves instead and continued on towards the building's front door when her phone buzzed again in her hand. Naomi had sent a new reply.

"Dude, you can't still back out! Seriously. This is crazy for someone like you. Go home, say you had a change of heart and just peace out of there"

For a second, Kayla allowed herself to take that suggestion seriously. In fairness to Naomi, she was probably right. She managed to push that thought to the side, however, and continued walking and texting.

"I know it is but I'll never find out if I don't try.. I need to start learning what I can and can't do for myself.. x." she replied.

The building loomed large as her phone buzzed one more time. "Alright, I get it! But be damn careful Kay! keep your eyes down and don't make contact with any of the patients. I mean it! Oh, and make sure to take care of you first crazy girl! :) X"

Kayla pocketed the phone and walked through the doors into a building that was much more chaotic than she'd imagined it to be. The few staff she could see in pale blue scrubs were walking in all directions at once and not a single one appeared to be sitting down to talk to a patient. But perhaps, she thought, that was because there were so many crowded into the small waiting room she could see from the corridor. By her estimation, they outnumbered the seats at least two to one and many looked like they had spent the night there waiting to be seen.

"Note to self, don't get sick," Kayla thought to herself. "And if you break that rule, don't come here for help,"

As she walked past the waiting room to her right, a middle-aged man in a full leg cast crossed her path in a wheelchair. He looked unsteady on his wheels, first weaving left and then right as he fought to control his new carriage. He carried a new set of crutches across his lap and an expression of pain and resignation on his face. When he spotted Kayla approaching his direction he looked up to meet her eyes but Kayla darted her head to the side and looked away.

The man grunted with a deep snort that seemed to come from his belly and almost scoffed at her for being rude. She wanted to apologise, to meet his eyes and say sorry, that it wasn't him or even her, really, but to do so would mean making further contact and she could already feel an aching pain begin to build in her leg.

The last thing she needed was to impair her ability to walk through this place on her very first shift. She limped down the rest of the hallway with her eyes glued to the wall as firmly as she could manage. The pain began to fade again as she made her way to reception where an impatient nurse was already waiting for her.

"Kayla?" the woman snapped at her.

Kayla looked around to make sure it was indeed her she was talking to and then hurried the final paces closer to the desk. She was 20 minutes early but there would be no way to tell from the nurse's stern tone.

"Uh, yeah, yes," she replied. "Kay, actually..."

"Great." The nurse cut her off. "Follow me."

By the time Kayla had heard her, she had already turned on her heels and began walking down a corridor with enough pace that she had to run to catch up. Her hard plastic shoes made a fast rhythmic clacking that reminded Kay of an executive desk toy she used to keep on her desk. For a brief second, she imagined she was there now, without the sterile smells of the hospital walls or the anxiety of illness that surrounded her here. When she tuned back into the room she was in the nurse ahead of her was already explaining the rules and schedules to the thin air where Kayla should have been walking.

"...very short handed, as usual, so we've assigned you to Lauren, a first time mum who came in yesterday morning who was eight centimetres dilated 30 minutes ago and is getting pretty close to delivering.."

"Delivering?!" Kayla replied. She hadn't even found the break room yet.

"Yeah, I know, I'm afraid we're throwing you in at the deep end this morning. Normally we'd put placement staff in a more supportive role on the wards, at least until the paperwork is done, but like I said, we're really short staffed. That's ok isn't it?"

"Yeah, um, fine. No problem at all," Kayla replied with a forced smile.

"Great," the nurse replied. "You know, I have a kind of sixth sense about people Kayla, and I think you are going to be perfect for this job."

"It's Kay," she replied.

"What?"

"My name, you can just call me Kay, for short, if you want"

"Alright, Kay it is." she replied. "I'm Erin by the way, come on, it's in here,"

Erin gave two light taps on a hospital room door before entering almost immediately. Kay followed close behind through the door into a small enclosed area enclosed by blue privacy curtains.

When the door closed behind them, Erin swept back the curtain and stepped out into the room where their patient was sitting up in bed with both hands on her belly breathing in slow, meditative streams as if exhaling through a straw that only she could see.

"Hello, Lauren, how are things progressing?" Erin asked in a brighter tone than she'd used in the hall.

"Slow, too slow," Lauren replied without taking her eyes away from the foot of her bed.

"Poor thing," Erin said, almost to the room more than Lauren. "Well I've brought my helper for today, Kayla.. Kay! She is in training to become a midwife one day too,"

"Ok, great," Lauren replied. "If she can make this baby come any quicker..."

"Hi, afraid not," Kay replied with a forced laugh. She did as much as she could to avoid making eye contact — looking first at the walls, then the floor, anywhere but at her patient.

Lauren didn't reply, but her steady focused breaths began to pick up in both pace and volume as a new contraction appeared to be building. Her hands moved on her basketball-shaped belly and her feet shifted in the bed, bracing her against the mattress with her knees high and spread apart.

"Contraction?" Erin asked. Lauren only gave a slight nod in reply, but the grimace growing deeper and more pained in her face told her everything else.

Erin moved to a machine at the side of the bed just in time to watch the contraction rise to a point at the top of her graph and stay there for several consecutive seconds. Instead, Kay watched Lauren's face as it contorted into a pained sharp grimace. Breaths that came so easily just a few seconds before turned forced and rough as the soft voice turned into a guttural roar that filled the room with the same agony and energy that gripped hold of her body. Instinctively, she pulled her knees closer to her chest and clenched her teeth together — betraying the tight twisting agony that was happening inside.

Kay wanted to look away, doing everything she could not to watch the poor woman too closely. She needed to avoid her eyes, to keep herself a safe distance away from the patient she was supposed to be looking after, but found in a battle against her own empathy to maintain her distance. Despite herself, she moved closer to the side of the bed, just where her classes had taught her to be. She pretended to be interested in the monitors in front of Erin and acted as if she was reading the detailed information displayed on the screen. Even through her act, however, she found herself being drawn into her patient with every passing second.

Before Kay had time to react, Lauren's right hand had left her pained stomach and reached out for hers by the bedside. Instinctively, she grasped it in hers and held it tight, letting her know she was right there with her and they were going to get through this together. She could hear Naomi's voice ringing in her ears, telling her to stop, to back away now before that thought became literally true.

To hell with it, Kay thought, if she was going to do this — be there for her patients when they needed her — then she was going to go all in.

When the contraction had ebbed back again, Lauren looked at her with a grateful smile and Kay returned the gesture. She could already feel a deep-seated pit of pressure growing in her belly. Now, she could only hope that she hadn't just made one of the biggest mistakes of her life.

When the next contraction hit Lauren, Kay too felt a twisting stabbing pain begin in her lower back before spreading through her abdomen and round to her stomach. Within seconds she felt its firm grip hold onto her tight as if squeezing every last breath from her body until she was too afraid to move for fear of making this wretched agony worse. She allowed her thumb to trace over the top of Lauren's hand — knowing well that she was the only person in the world sharing her pain at this moment in time.

Taking a long slow breath, Kay looked to be coaching her patient well so that she might mirror her calm, controlled movements with ease. Erin looked over from the machine and was impressed by what she saw. In just a few minutes she had formed a bond with her patient and helped to make her feel at ease. She seemed to be a natural. Kay, for her part, was fighting her own battle to stay calm and in control. Then, a loud shrieking alarm sounded from outside the room, catching both Kay and Lauren by surprise. Erin, however, barely blinked. Something was happening on the ward and she needed to be there fast.

"Stay here," Erin said to Kay, already halfway out the door. The only rule the ward had, if it had any at all, was that when the emergency buzzer sounded everyone would come running. Erin felt safe in the knowledge that Lauren's delivery was far enough away that she could get back in time — these things rarely took more than 5 minutes. Besides, Kay was doing a remarkable job and she knew that she'd keep her patient calm for the short time it would take her to come back.

"But—" Kay managed before her mentor was already out of the room and out of earshot. She looked back to Lauren who looked a lot more tense than she did a minute ago.

"It's fine, shouldn't be a minute." she said, trying to reassure herself as much as Lauren.

Before Lauren could reply both women felt a tightness build in their stomachs, building to a crest before a sudden pop and slight release in the intensity of the pressure both women felt. A gush of fluid cascaded down between Lauren's legs, splashing over the far end of the bed at its furthest point. For a second, Kay doubled over and grabbed her own stomach, forgetting herself in this new setting, as she felt the warm wet feeling against her own dry legs.

"What was that?!" Lauren yelled, pulling herself upright in the bed.

"It's ok, it's fine, it's nothing," Kay reassured her with a hand on her shoulder. "It's just. your waters have broken."

"Get the doctor in here, quick!" she replied. "Where's Erin?! I need Erin!"

"I can't yet, they're still dealing with the alarm," Kay replied in as calming a voice as she could muster. Internally, she too was panicking as she felt her own stomach shift inside her. In the deluge, Lauren hadn't noticed her reaction, but Kay knew what was coming next. "You don't have to worry about a thing, we've still got plenty of time,"

Kay had barely got the last syllable of time out of her mouth before a sudden and excruciating contraction snatched hold of her body.

"Urghhhhhhhffff..." she grimaced and doubled over in pain, holding on to the bedside rail to remain upright. The agony pulsing through her belly had shifted several gears from the last. Now, there was an unmistakable urgency that came with it. She wondered if all deliveries were like this, whether this was happening down the hall and the reason for the alarm — but she didn't have time to think about that now. If she was feeling it in her then Lauren must have been feeling it too and she needed a professional by her side right now, not someone as helpless as she was.

Lauren's face was contorted in agony, her lips raised in a frozen snarl, her eyes screwed shut and her hand grasped at her belly as it tightened and stretched under her. She hissed and groaned at Kay who squeezed her fingers tight as much against her own pains as to soothe hers.

"I know, that's it, good," Kay whispered, but she noted something else shifting too. The pressure that had been gathering slowly before her waters had gone now felt like a great weight driving itself down through her body.

"Arggghhhh, I have to push," Lauren screamed.

She wanted more than anything to tell her how much she knew about what she was feeling, to let her know that she felt it too but it was the one thing she couldn't do. Even more than that, she wanted Lauren to push, to bear down, and shift his feeling of weight and pressure that was suddenly boring down through her own abdomen. But she needed Erin, there was only so far textbooks and tutorials could take you and this was a long way away from that.

"Don't. Push." she replied through gritted teeth fighting the urge to bear down herself through controlled breaths. "Erin. She'll be back soon. Just wait. just a minute Lauren!"

Naomi was right, this might have been a mistake. She had to find out for herself but nothing in the world could have prepared her for this. She doubled over in pain, grabbing at her belly as her empty womb somehow twisted and raged impossibly within her. She bared her teeth and grimaced, her hand gripping tight to the rail of the bed as she tried in vain to breathe against the wretched onslaught within her body.

"I can't!" Lauren screamed, suffering through the same agony. "I Can't!"

Kay realised she was right. She could feel the pressure aching and clawing deep within her own body and knew that neither of them had much chance of holding out.

"Alright," she gasped. Trying to remember every minute of her training. She picked up Lauren's hand again and placed her right on Lauren's ankle. "Give me a practice push, right down into your bottom."

Lauren wasted no time between one breath and the next. Given the all-clear guidance from Kay, she launched into an effort that Kay would have described as Olympian rather than practice. Before she had time to instruct her to slow down, however, she realised how good it felt to finally be moving with that pressure instead of against it.

"That's it Lauren... Good girl. Good push! Nnnf, keep that. oooof. Coming..."

Lauren continued building her efforts more and more as it went on, piling pressure against pressure determined to fight with everything she had to stop this wretched agony. Then, Kay began to feel something else inside her. The relief she felt against her unrelenting pressure suddenly wasn't the main focus of her attention as she felt a gargantuan weight heaved and bruised its way down through her cervix on its way to the birth canal.

"OHMY. FUCK." Kay yelled, bending double around her waist.

"What?!" Lauren shouted. "Are you ok, is everything alright?!"

As she surrendered her gargantuan effort to check on Kay, both women felt the release of pressure allow the mass of the head to retread back up into their bodies and rise deep inside. Again, it was Kay who screamed out and steadied herself against the bed. Her eyes closed tight and her breath stuttered against the weight pushing slowly and forcefully up into her.

"Fine! Ooof" She replied. "It's ok, everything's fine, you're doing great.."

"What's wrong? Do you need anything? Maybe, get..someone?" Lauren said.

"No, it's fine, You're just..doing so good, we're, er, you're making great progress...""

She smiled as convincingly as she could, but realised that she alone knew how close this baby was to arriving. She couldn't be the patient right now, for the first time, she doubted Erin would make it back and put her job and duties at the forefront of her mind.

"Alright, let's take a look. We''ll see how close we are to meeting baby, and... and go from there, shall we?"

Kay moved herself to the foot of the bed, instinctively shuffling in a half walk, half waddle to protect a belly that she knew wasn't really there. As she moved she kept a close eye on the door as if she could somehow will Erin to come running through it at the last minute. She lingered there for a second, then another, fighting a battle against the excruciatingly intense pressure she felt building within her patient. Erin wasn't coming. Lauren, however, was already ahead of her — heaving into her next effort before Kay had a chance to brace herself for it.

Instantly, she felt that weighted rock in her belly heave downwards through her. In a split second, she fell forward onto the bed, reached out, and gripped hold of Lauren's ankles — doing what she could to hold on and breathe through the crashing pain for fear of falling any further. She could hear Lauren gurgle and groan, focusing her efforts down through her belly and felt her own breath catch in her throat as she too tensed around the mass. Slowly, it bore downwards millimetre by millimetre, stretching and shifting her from the inside in an intense and unbearable agony she felt could tear either one of them in two.

Soon, she began to feel full and rounded as the heavy weight of the head shifted down through her cervix through excruciating efforts. Slowly, Kay began to reconcile the dry dull theory that she had memorised in textbooks with the vivid red red-hot agony that was tumbling through her body. The head, she realised, was rearing past the cervix and filling the birth canal fast. It might not have been in a hurry to get here but it was now going somewhere fast. She lifted the sheet draped over Lauren's raised knees and widened her eyes as the dark wispy hair was on the verge of crowning.

"hooof, OH, hooof, Ok Lauren, you're doing, it, you're URGHHHH, You're doing good! I can see it, I can see the head! It's coming..."

Lauren released her breath and tumbled into a deep-throated scream that matched the energy she was pouring in behind that push.

"Arrrrrrrrrrrghh, Fuck, it hurts so bad!! I want this baby out!!" She no longer worried about Kay's agonised expression or the beads of sweat that trickled down her brow. There was nothing here but the pressure that filled her belly and the agonising pain that accompanied her efforts.

"I know," Kay replied. "Believe me, I know.. You're doing so good, just a couple more pushes and your baby is going to be here, ok?"

"I NEED it out!!" Lauren replied. "NOW!"

"Yeah, me too..." Kay said quietly, breathing through her own agony and preparing for the next. In another instant, Lauren was about to heave down again before Kay had a chance to slow her down.

"Woaah, woaah, easy there!" kay instructed. "Don't push! Not yet.."

"I Have to!" Lauren replied. "I have to push it's too much.. I..Can't.. HNnnnnnnnnnghh"

Kay bucked forward as a shock wave broke through her with the strength of Lauren's effort. She put one hand on each of Lauren's legs as Lauren scrunched her eyes tightly closed, gritted her teeth, and heaved every ounce of energy she had down through her abdomen. Kay felt the immense weight in her belly crush down on top of her vagina and push its way through her body. She too caught herself with a long slow breath and gritted her teeth against the agony that Lauren seemed to inflict on them both.

"OH....OWW..That's Good Lauren. Unngghff That's it. Good..oof...girl! Big push!"

More than anything else right now, Kay wanted to fall to the floor, lay down on her hands and knees and push against this immense weight she felt inside her. But she remembered why she was here. Not for her own care or birth — but to be there for others, to assist Lauren through the most agonising and difficult thing she's ever done in her life. With everyone else who should be here gone, Kay realised that she was the only professional that Lauren had left.

She grit her teeth through the burning stretching pain that radiated out from her abdomen to watch Lauren's labia begin to open ahead of the immense bulge pushing its way to meet her.

"Oh, shit," she said — hoping her utterance was quiet enough that Lauren didn't hear. This was the strangest, most out of body experience she had felt in her life. Watching the pulsing pushing agony she could feel moving down her body come towards her mere inches away. Inside, she felt every inch of that stretching and parting and a ring of burning pain torture her from the inside. She clenched her fist and did all she could to encourage her patient to push harder and stronger while suffering the agonising consequences of every ounce of effort she inflicted on them both.

"Bwhaaaaaaaahhh..." Lauren gasped, letting go of that push and expelling the air that powered it.

Kay instinctively bucked forward as she felt a weight shift within her that heaved back up through the walls of the birth canal with an almighty kick. The pressure and intensity that came with it returned too. As agonising as it was to feel the head heave through her body, it was now more painful to stop.

"Huuurgh, come on Lauren, straight back into it. Oooof ahhhhhh, atta girl. Come on. One, two, three, PUSHHH!!"

Lauren did as instructed. The air in the room was heated and moist, both women were exhausted, beaten, and drenched in sweat, but they were nearly there, so close to the line. Lauren took in another gasp of warm air and used it to push down, curling her head down into her chest and around that great big belly where she was at least beginning to sense some progress at last.

"HNNNNNnnnnghhhhhh" She grimaced and heaved with everything she had.

"nnnnnnnnnghhhhhaaaargh," she heard as almost an echo coming from the foot of the bed. She opened her eyes, barely enough to squint over her rounded belly, to see her trainee midwife Kay grimacing with her own red-faced effort as she too bore down at the foot of the bed in tandem with her efforts. She didn't have the energy, or the space to question her actions, but she could feel her assistance like a hand of god pressing through her belly and easing that weight down harder than she knew she could on her own. Somehow, Kay's efforts worked in tandem with her own, their combined strength surged together so that their whole efforts equalled more than the sum of them both.

Kay looked up to Lauren as she screwed her eyes shut tight once again to push as much strength and pressure as she had down into her abdomen. She looked down to her lips and watched the agony she felt within herself unfold in front of her eyes.

The teardrop-shaped bulge bloomed outwards again into a hard round ball before growing and growing in every dimension until it seemed to stretch her poor patient beyond the limits of what the human body could do. Kay didn't have time to pity Lauren, however, as she gasped and panted, feeling every millimetre of stretch and burn test her own limits.

"hoooo.. hooo hooo. Good. girl." she gasped, sweat beading up and falling from her brow. Again she bucked backwards and down, the urge to push no longer voluntary but a primal impulse as simple as gasping for air.

"HNnnnnnnnnnnnnnghhhh," she heaved down and back, watching as both her efforts and Lauren's pushed this baby further and farther down. She reached out, cupping her hands around the emerging head and urged Lauren to push hard with her one more time. As they heaved together Kay trembled, bucked, and grimaced — but held her grip steady as the head thrust free from its former home and gushed into the world through a torrent of fluid and agonised groans that seemed to fill the space between them.

Shocked, dazed, and humbled Kay didn't have time to even process her training before she heard the newborn cry in her arms and Erin enter the room with a bemused smile.

"Wow, look what we have here," she said with praise but not panic.

She took the warm mewing bundle from Erin with great care and handed it over to Lauren as she too processed what had unfolded between them.

"Looks like someone's earned their badge a year early," Erin said. "I knew you were a natural..."

In the time it took to change out of her clothes and go home early for the day, Kay had made up her mind. On the way out the door, she retrieved her phone from her back and lit up its screen for the first time in hours. 14 missed calls, all from Naomi. She ignored them and pulled up Messenger instead.

"Knew there was a reason I had to try, N. This career is perfect for me after all... X"