#same back pain quota anyway i guess

[cvsette]

head in my hands im never going to get a fucking job with benefits and opportunity for growth and a steady non-tipped salary im not employable and i dont have enough friends to get a job through connections and theres something deeply wrong with me augghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[vxnillavampir]

3 am - Leon S. Kennedy.

i don’t really know what this is? i was listening to mitski one night and i bet you all know how the rest of that goes.

warnings: angst, mentions of trauma, kind of fluff? i guess? it’s not smut that’s for sure. not proofread and with all of my stuff i just want to say my account is 18+ only mdni!!

word count: 1217 words

pairing: leon x gn!reader

(a/n) sooooo this is kinda my first writing post on this new account and I just want to say hi, if you’re new here…hi hello. I used to write for tlou on my old blog (rxllingstones)! i honestly didn’t know how to end this so it feels a bit rushed but anyways, enjoy!

You open your eyes to the dark bedroom you shared with your boyfriend, trying to mentally prepare for what the rest of the night is going to entail. Shifting your spot on the bed to face him, you find Leon lying there—already awake. His drained expression conveyed that he had been having nightmares. His body language told you that he had been lying awake for a while, and you knew that you had to do something to make him feel better. You reached out to him, your hand gently gracing his arm."Leon?" Your voice was barely above a whisper but it was enough to draw his attention towards you. His expression had already softened slightly.

"Yeah?" His voice was shaky like he was trying to hold back tears. Instinctively, you bring your hand up to his cheek to comfort him, your thumb rubbing small circles along the soft skin. "Had a nightmare?" You ask even though you already know the answer. He nodded sheepishly before sitting up on the bed. His head fell in his hands as he tried to hold back tears desperately. He was so tired of crying about the same. Exact. Thing. Over and over again. He felt as if he was only allowed to talk about the matter a certain amount of times, and once he reached that quota he had to just keep it to himself the best he could. You stay quiet, letting him take his time to process whatever he wants to say next.

After a few moments, he speaks. "I just keep thinking about that night," he says, his voice breaking as he struggles to keep the tears from coming.

"I'm sorry." You were able to hear through his mumbles. Those words broke your heart. "Baby, you never have to apologize for being upset..." You try to soothe even though you know the two of you are going to go into your usual pattern when he wakes up in the middle of the night. He wakes up from a nightmare, he feels guilty about it, you comfort him and the whole thing starts up again a few days later. Looking at the clock on the nightstand it read:

3:23 am

You sit up on the bed as well so you can rub small circles along his back, the gesture easing him into your embrace. Leon leaned his head against your shoulder as you rubbed his back before completely face-planting into your lap, adjusting himself so he could get comfortable in this new position. You felt a sense of comfort as you watched Leon settle into your lap, content to be in your embrace. You enjoyed the feeling of being needed and appreciated, and you were glad to be able to give him the comfort and security he needed.

He always looks so small like this, no matter his size or stature, he looks almost petite. You bring your hand up to caress his cheek and wipe away any leftover stray tears. "I'm here baby, let it out..."

You just held him. His golden locks were entangled in your fingers as his head rested in your lap. You watched as his muscular form shook, Leon's sobs being muffled by the fabric of your checkered pajama pants. You felt yourself tearing up, your heart aching for him. The sight of him breaking down like this was enough for you to feel just a little bit of his pain. The ice-cold emptiness eating away at your heart, the feeling nearly suffocating.

You wanted to comfort him, to make him feel better, to make him know that he wasn't alone. You wanted to tell him that everything was going to be alright, but you couldn't. So you held him, in silence, feeling the warmth of his tears and body against your own. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you in as if you are the only thing keeping him afloat. He would just sink and disappear if his arms weren't around you like a life preserver.

Leon shifts slightly so he can face you, his icy blue eyes showing signs of exhaustion. "It's just... I can't escape it, you know? The screams, the chaos, the feeling of helplessness." His voice trembled with the rawness of his emotions. "I'm just so scared that I'm going to lose everything."

"If you're not scared, you're not human." Your words hang in the air for a moment and they couldn't be more true. After Leon encountered those soulless monsters again and again in different forms, it was nice to be reminded that although these feelings are awful, they're a reminder that he's still alive. He's still somewhat himself. Leon clutched onto your words like a lifeline, desperate for the reassurance that you were truly here for him. Your soothing touch and comforting words echoed in his mind, pushing back the darkness that threatened to consume him. "I'm not going anywhere."

In that moment, he allowed himself to believe in the words you spoke. He found solace in the bond you shared, in the unconditional love you offered.

Letting out a shaky sigh, his arms leave your side and his hand finds its way to yours, intertwining his fingers with yours in a silent gesture of trust. "You always know the right things to say to get me to relax," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I promise you that I'll do everything I can to make sure you're safe and that what happened in Raccoon City never happens again." His grip on your hand tightened slightly as if clinging to you as an anchor in the storm.

Your eyebrows stitch together in a concerned expression, your free hand still messing with Leon's blond strands of hair to try and soothe him. You can hear determination and fear in his voice as he speaks. "I know, angel, I know..." was the only thing you could say in response. Life is unpredictable and you can't change fate, but the way Leon was speaking with his voice full of vindictiveness, you can almost believe him too. "Now, how can I get you to relax, hmm?"

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Leon's lips as he gazed up at you, his eyes still moist from his earlier tears. He appreciated your understanding; it meant the world to him to have someone who truly comprehended the fear and pain he had experienced.

He sighed softly, his body finally beginning to relax against your comforting touch. "Well, cuddling always seems to do the trick," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of playfulness, attempting to lighten the heavy mood. Leon shifted position, allowing you to maneuver more comfortably beside him and you couldn't help but crack a slight smile at his change in demeanor, feeling an odd sense of pride wash over you. It was nice to know that Leon was going to be able to have a good night's sleep now thanks to you. These restless nights usually end up bringing the two of you together, making him strong enough to face another day of the everyday horrors he has to deal with. He feels that he could face any monster that comes his way with you by his side.

dividers by the lovely @cafekitsune <33

© vxnillavampir 2023 - don’t copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my works.

[sexyvampkitty]

RP Mini-Solo 12: 'Thoughts From The Other Side'

I'm trapped...on the 'Other Side'...again. I recently had my heart ripped out. That has happened to me 'so' many times now that I've honestly lost count. It seems like everyone is always lining up to kill me. Well...mostly just one certain someone...but I won't get into that right now. Anyway...now that I'm no longer residing in my body...I'm free to just be myself...the part that I've been trying 'so' hard to hide lately...which means that all of my emotions are flooding back in at once...giving my mind time to wander off into lands best left untraveled. I can't help but think...why am I in a hurry to get back into my body? What do I have to go home to? An ex boyfriend who might or might not come back to me someday? How much longer am I expected to wait around for him? It's been months already. I love him...a big part of me always will...but deep down...I know that we're pretty much over. I've felt that in the deepest part of my soul for awhile now...even with my humanity switch flipped to the off position. If I continue to wait around for him...what does that make me? A total dumb ass? Or just a completely hopeless romantic? I 'do' have a 'special' friend with benefits...but that's not the same thing. I miss having someone to cuddle me...tell me constantly that they love me...and that everything's going to be okay. I had that for a short time...which brings me back to my ex husband. A small part of me still hates him for what he did to me...basically ripping my heart out and stomping all over it...metaphorically speaking...but the bigger part misses him terribly. In the short two months that we were married...I'd never been happier...even when I tried to convince myself that I wasn't. He bought me nice gifts...always showered me with love and kisses...and would sometimes just snuggle with me for hours...no sex required. If my humanity was on...I doubt that I could ever bring myself to stake him...with it off...it's a definite yes. I know that my vampiric rage will eventually win in that department. Still...I miss having someone to love...and being loved...although...I've been hurt too many times already...especially this last time...that I doubt that I will ever open up my heart to anyone ever again. Even with my emotions assaulting me at the moment...I just feel...numb...like I'm unable to cry anymore tears. I think I met my tear quota after me and my ex split. During those first few weeks...I thought constantly about running to Klaus and begging him to compel my memories away...but I couldn't bring myself to do that either. I wouldn't trade some of those memories for anything...especially the happier ones...like when we went on vacation together. My ex boyfriend never took me anywhere. I mean sure, we had a bunch of sex, but that's about it. No fancy restaurants...nothing. The only place I never got to go to was Hawaii...but I guess that will never happen now. Not like any of this matters anyway. Once I'm back in my body...my switch will still be off...and I won't feel anything...and maybe it's better that way. I don't think that I can possibly deal with any additional pain...and...right now...I'm trapped in my own suffering...floating in limbo...forced to watch everyone and everything going on around me as normal...but unable to interact. I've been here before...multiple times...and it completely blows. It might take longer to get out of here this time...basically because I'm running out of witches to help me. I'm pretty sure that they're all tired of hauling my ass out of here at this point. For now...all I can do is sit here...wait...and cry ghostly tears...thinking back on what was...and what might've been...but was obviously never meant to be in the first place... (END)

[hanaasbananas]

100 Ways to say I Love You Chapter 14

I need you (Ladynoir)

AO3

Chat Noir groaned, leveraging himself up into a sitting position against the wall he'd been thrown into. After what seemed like an eternity, he heard Ladybug’s triumphant cry “Miraculous ladybug!”

Through cracked eyelids, he watched as the pink light of the miraculous cure washed over the city, the healing ladybugs healing his bruises, knitting the ribs he was pretty sure he’d fractured earlier back together.

Standing, he grinned across at Ladybug, but she didn’t return his smile. Instead she gave him a cursory once over, an unreadable emotion swimming in the depths of her blue eyes as they lingered in the places that he’d been injured, making sure that he was well. Chat gave her a thumbs up, but she stiffened at the gesture and turned away, throwing her yo-yo and swinging up onto the rooftops.

Before he could follow, the reporters who had been waiting on the fringes of the fight descended upon the scene, blocking his path and asking him questions, requesting soundbites for whatever channel they worked for. By the time he’d answered most of their questions and made his way up onto the roof, Ladybug was long gone.

***

Ladybug ignored him on their next patrol. And the next, though Chat had no idea why. She’d wait for him, her back turned away from him, pausing only long enough to tersely tell him which areas to patrol, and then taking off without waiting for a response.

He’d tried brainstorming ideas with Plagg about what he could have done wrong, but his kwami had proved to be utterly useless. So instead, Chat simply did nothing, hoping that soon, she’d find a reason to talk to him again.

***

It was on the third week that he got some inkling of what he might have done wrong. Sitting at his desk, he was going over his notes from the last lesson when Alya and Marinette entered the classroom, the former gesticulating wildly as she spoke. “-she’s totally giving him the cold shoulder!”

“Mhm,” Marinette sounded disinterested, but Alya didn’t seem to notice, speaking over her friend.

“Seriously, I haven’t seen those two goofing off on patrol in weeks . Something’s up, and I am gonna get the scoop!” Alya nudged Marinette as they sat down “what’s your theory?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Marinette hummed. “She’s probably trying to get him to stop making those god awful puns.”

Alya snorted. “Good one. But seriously, c’mon, gimme your best theory.”

“I guess...” Marinette murmured “I guess...maybe she’s mad he keeps putting himself in danger. Did you see that last akuma battle?”

“Yeah,” Alya sighed, “that was a big one. I couldn’t even get close enough to record my own footage; it was so bad.”

“Exactly. Maybe Ladybug is just upset about it.”

Adrien turned around in his seat, resting his forearms on Marinette’s desk. “Yeah, but Chat Noir is supposed to protect Ladybug, that’s his whole thing.”

“No it’s not!” Marinette scowled. “It’s an equal partnership. How many times has she said that herself?” She fixed him with a fierce glare and Adrien noted with surprise that she wasn't stumbling over her words to him. At that moment, their teacher came in, and their discussion was cut short, but as he settled back in his seat, he heard Alya hiss across at Marinette “what was that?”

***

“Jeez, Hawkmoth may have slowed down with how many akuma’s he sends out but these last few have been some real bastards.” Chat whistled lowly as they followed the trail of destruction the akuma calling himself The Cannon had left in its wake.

“Focus, Chat Noir!” Ladybug called tersely and he almost tripped over his own feet, staring at her in disbelief.

“So you’ve finally decided to talk to me, huh?”

“Now is not the time-” her eyes widened “watch out!” Chat ducked, just as a large cannonball sailed past where his head had been only seconds before.

“Huh,” he stared at where it had landed in the car park below them, flattening two cars like it was nothing. “Somehow that looks less deadly in Tom & Jerry. That could have been nasty-” he turned to see Ladybug’s reaction, but she was already far in the distance. “Of course,” Chat sighed. “Who has time for jokes anyway?”

By the time he caught up to Ladybug, she was on the ground, circling around warily and spinning her yo-yo in anticipation for attack. Chat frowned. From the craters that had been left in the roads, The Cannon couldn’t have gotten far, and yet the trail just stopped , giving no indication as to where he’d gone.

Something glinted in the corner of his eye on the rooftop beside him and it took Chat a second to register what it was. Or rather, who.

The akuma stared down at Ladybug on the street, a manic grin on his face as he raised his arms, preparing to jump down and flatten her on impact.

So Chat did the only thing he could.

Just as The Cannon threw himself off the roof, Chat leapt sideways from his perch onto his back, wrapping his arms tightly around the akumas neck, clinging on like a monkey and throwing him off course. The Cannon roared, thrashing around to try and get him off, but Chat held on tight, keeping an eye out for Ladybug who had wisely gotten out of the way unharmed.

Chat couldn’t say the same for himself.

As The Cannon flailed, he finally threw out his arms, sending Chat flying backwards to slam- hard- against a lamp post. Ladybug watched the two of them with wide eyes, her head swivelling back and forth between the two of them, indecision warring over her features, unable to decide if she should run to him, or engage The Cannon in attack.

Remembering what he’d seen when he’d leapt onto the akuma’s back, Chat tried to sit up. Grabbing his abdomen, he gritted his teeth and yelled. “It’s on his wrist! The watch!”

He must have blacked out for a few minutes, because the next thing he knew, the road was smooth again and he could stand up straight without pain shooting through his body.

And Ladybug had taken off again. But this time, Chat didn’t wait, using his baton to vault after her. She hadn’t gotten far, so it didn’t take long to catch up to her. “Oh, so you’re just gonna go back to ignoring me, huh? What, you used up your ‘talk to Chat’ quota for the next three weeks?”

Ladybug didn’t stop, or even acknowledge his presence beside her and he faltered, “What the hell is your problem?” he shouted, a white hot burst of anger erupting in his chest, and blazing through his veins. It was as though all the loneliness and confusion, and sadness he’d felt over the last weeks had gone up in flames, leaving behind nothing but the bitter taste of ash on his tongue.

He would not leave without an answer. Not today.

“My problem?” Ladybug whirled around, a warning in her eyes “don’t even go there.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” he threw his hands up in the air “why shouldn’t I try to find out why you won’t talk to me anymore? Why you’re avoiding me.”

“Because I need you!” she shrieked, her voice echoing around them, freezing Chat in place. “With your stupid puns, and jokes, and, and...I need you” she repeated softly. “And everytime you do something reckless or stupid during a fight, I get so scared that that will be the day I can’t save you, or bring you back, and you-” she stepped forward, jabbing her finger into his chest “you keep doing it!”

Chat opened his mouth to speak, to reassure her, but Ladybug shook her head sadly, tears glistening in her eyes. “I don’t need that much protection, Chaton. Not when you risk yourself to give it.”

He didn’t stop her when she left, staring after her in a daze, her words ringing in his ears over and over, and over again.

***

Chat arrived early to their next patrol, pacing back and forth as he waited for the telltale thud of her arrival. Turning to face her, he said: “we have to talk about this.”

For a long moment, she didn’t move, and he was worried she might shake her head, tell him to stop wasting time and start patrol, but instead she exhaled shakily, her shoulders drooping, and nodded.

They sat together in silence, legs dangling over the edge of the roof, until Ladybug rested her head on his shoulder, tugging at his arm until he put it around her. “Do you remember,” she began haltingly, “do you remember that year when we first started out, and I jumped into that T-rex’s mouth without telling you my plan?”

Even with her in his arms, safe and well, Chat’s heart seized at the memory, remembering the overpowering wave of terror and grief that had washed over him, paralysing him even as he felt the ground crumble beneath him. Instinctively, he tightened his arm around Ladybugs shoulders and she laughed weakly. “Yeah, that’s how...that’s how I feel, everytime you-”

“Everytime I put myself in danger for you.” Chat finished her sentence “oh god, my lady , I had no idea.”

“It’s okay,” she said, voice small “it’s not like I told you or anything.” Moving out from under his arm, she turned to face him, sitting on her knees. “I meant what I said before though. “I need you . We have the other temporary holders, but you’re my partner , and I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you.” She sniffed “I don’t ever want to find out either.”

“And you won’t have to,” Chat said, “because I’m not going anywhere.” He cupped her cheek “I’ll be more careful from now on, alright?”

Ladybug smiled tremblingly up at him, the relief evident in her large eyes and she leaned into his touch, her eyes slipping shut. “Promise?”

Chat pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering for a long moment. “I promise.”

[heyheydidjaknow]

It’s 200 words under my quota, but, in my defense, I don’t think it makes a ton of sense to make it longer for a variety of reasons. Also, y’all get it a day before the deadline. Please, god, let me write something to lighten up the gloom at some point.

Chapter 7

You were wondering before; yes, apparently it cracks, not splatters like you thought it would.

You are not sure how that is the only detail you remember about today. Some things happened before, you are sure. You do not remember those things, but you know there was more that happened.

As soon as the deed is done, you start climbing down the fire escape. You jump down the last story down onto your hands, wiping the blood off on your jeans as you sprint out into the street, running and busting through the front door. You scramble up the steps towards the front of the building, taking your bag and smashing it through a window to climb through. You hear the cries of combat above you as you grab Murakami by the ankle, crimson staining his skin as you swing him back onto solid ground. Electricity flows through your veins as you grab a shard of glass off the metal balcony, sawing at the rope and cutting him loose. You pull the gag out of his mouth, pulling him, staggering, to his feet as you both start back down the stairs.

He is saying something. You do not hear him, the sound of muffled screams and shattering bones ringing in your ears like a gong, his face tattooed onto your eyelids. A part of you notes how strange it is that you are not being followed; then again, it is not you they are after.

The walk is surprisingly short, you think. You push the door open for him as you both walk inside.

“Murakami?” You hear your voice call out to him.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Do you have a bathroom?” Why are you so quiet?

“Yes.” He walks behind the counter. “Right in the back.”

“Thank you, sir.” You walk to the back of the shop, pushing the appropriately labeled door open and walking to the sink. You start scrubbing the blood off your hands, scraping what had dried from under your fingernails as you look up at yourself in the mirror. You blink, perplexed by your expression. You look corpselike, the dim lights of the tiny bathroom casting long shadows across your features. You reach up, feeling the structure of your face. Your fingers gently pull your skin out of place to confirm that, yes, that is you.

Your digits are ice against your skin.

You remember more details than you wish you did about what transpired the minutes before. You remember how much he strained not to shake underneath you. You have muted memories of talking of some sort, but when you try to focus on the memory, your ears fill with static.

‘I must have dissociated or something,’ you reason to yourself, trying to cling to your own body as you relive that scene in your head.

You remember the sounds he made before you let go. You remember how his shirt was drenched with sweat as Leonardo tried reasoning with your enemy. You remember how he had squirmed underneath you, how odd you found that; he must have known that he would not be able to make it out of this unscathed, you are sure.

You feel your fingernails graze your now pale complexion. Paler than usual, anyways; you were never the observant type.

You remember securing your position with one foot against the edge of the building, your heartbeat irregular as you held him there, knuckles going white around his clothing and skin. You remember hearing what you thought was a laugh as you leaned forward. Oh, how he had tremored, eye to eye with his executioner.

“If you knew what was coming next,” you murmured into his ear, “you would thank me.”

You had promised yourself not to look over the edge when you dropped him. There was nothing you could do about the sound.

Your middle and ring fingers feel at the ledge of your eye sockets. They gently tug your eyelids apart, holding your eyes open as you stare yourself blankly in the eyes. A lump rises in your throat as your limbs tingle from the excess adrenaline.

‘I killed a man.’

You wipe your face off with your sleeve as you shut off the faucet. You flick your hands dry, wiping the excess on your pants as you walk back onto the main floor, collapsing in one of the stools and resting your head on the counter. Time is swirling together now. Is that normal? You do not know.

‘You solved a lot of problems.’ You close your eyes, replaying his last few moments on repeat. ‘If he survived, he’ll never be able to do ninjutsu again. Taking only Xever down will be a cakewalk by comparison, and Karai… there’s no way Shredder can get allies to the states that fast.’ You hug your sides. ‘The episodes after next, besides the Stockman ones, cannot happen, meaning I have more time to come up with a game plan regarding Karai’s arrival. I doubt he considers us much of a threat, even now, so as long as I can figure out how to get the guys to survive next—’

Your thoughts are interrupted by the ceramic thump of a bowl being placed in front of you.

“You must eat, my friend. Food heals the mind.” He smiles gently. “Your murmuring speaks to your distress.”

You look up at him, sitting up properly despite yourself. “Thank you, Murakami.” Your fingers wrap around the handle of the spoon. It shakes violently in your hand; you place your hands on the table, for now, not trusting yourself to not spill the broth over yourself.

“Would you like me to lend you my ears?”

You hum in discontent. “I’m alright.” You chuckle dryly. “You should probably sit down more than I should; you must be in quite a bit of shock after what happened.”

“That is true.” You watch him pour himself his bowl. “Yet I feel as if we’ve experienced equivalent amounts of pain over both of our lifetimes.”

That made you smile, if only weakly. “Hardly.” You fold your hands together, scratching at a piece of dried gore that you had apparently not gotten off the back of your hand. “You have quite a few years on me, sir. The stories you could probably tell would make my head spin.”

“My life has, thankfully, been rather peaceful.” He sets the bowl down next to you, sitting and starting to eat. “I came to New York when I was a young man, and I’ve run this shop since then.”

You hold your hand up to see if the shaking has lessened; it has, slightly. “And your family?”

“Thankful for my health and wellbeing.” He smiles. “I see them, still. They live farther downtown.”

“For your sake, I’m grateful.”

He chuckles. “I’m sure they will be quite excited by my story.”

You slow your breathing, taking a sip from the bowl and humming softly. “Did your mother teach you to cook?”

“She did, although,” he nods, “I must admit that her food will always be better than mine.”

“I feel that.” You smile shakily, taking another bite. The dryness of your throat does not lessen. “I’ve been trying to get some family recipes down for at least two months on my own, and every time it’s just not the same.”

He nods slowly. “As always is the case with these sorts of things, I’m sad to say. It doesn’t get better with age, I’m afraid.”

You rest your head in your hands, closing your eyes. You can still hear him. “That totally sucks.”

He laughs. “Yes, well,” he sighs, “that is the nature of getting older.”

He reminds you too much of people you knew for you not to smile at that. If nothing else, this conversation serves as a slight distraction, some sort of relief from the ringing in your head; you do not even know how you would talk to the Hamatos about this sort of thing. They may be the only friends you have right now, but they are hardly known for their tact or reassurance. You do not want their advice to let it go or to hear that this whole thing will pass. They cannot understand this, you do not think. “You know what?” You take another bite. “Getting old, from where I stand, seems completely and totally overrated.”

He smiles. “You remind me so much of my son; he used to say the same thing before he left for college.”

“And after?”

He clears his throat. “’It’s not totally overrated.’” He chuckles. “He has a wonderful little girl. She has the sweetest voice you’ll ever hear.”

“I guess that’s true.” You pause. “It just feels like, sometimes, I’m never going to be that old, you know? Never have kids or a life after high school.”

He nods. “I’ll tell you this right now: every adult you’ll ever meet has had that same thought. There’s no way around it; everyone has that sort of doubt.” He sighs. “But there are a lot of adults out there with kids and lives, so we must be doing something right.”

Maybe Murakami does not fully understand what you mean, but you feel better, talking to him. You might have talked to Yoshi about this, but you doubt you would want to; he seems too high up, almost, too important to bother with this sort of thing. “I guess that’s true.” You sigh. “It doesn’t make it seem any more possible, though.”

“Well, there isn’t anything I could say that could make that change.” He takes another bite. “But never forget that things, no matter how bad they are, have to get better eventually. Life comes in waves, and if you stand your ground against them, the calm will come.”

You pause, sigh. You reach into your bag, pulling a wallet out and placing a twenty onto the table. “Thank you, sir.” You finish your food, getting to your feet. “I’m sorry about roping you into all of this. Hopefully, at least, the others will be able to help you more and keep break-ins to a minimum.”

“You don’t have to pay.” He smiles. “You saved my life, after all.”

“I insist.” You rub the back of your neck. “Besides, the guys are probably going to come to see if you’re alright in a bit, and I don’t want them to raid your kitchen.”

He laughs. “For the young men that saved me? I owe them my life itself. Gyoza is the least I can provide.”

“Still.” You start towards the door, pulling it open. You look back at the man.

‘This is worth it.’

You wave back at him. “I’ll see you later, Murakami.”

“I look forward to when we meet again.”

You close the door behind you, starting up the street towards your apartment.

You feel sick.

Table of Contents

Chapter 6 part 1

Chapter 8

[set-phasers-to-whump]

identity reveal

febuwhump day 1: prompt: alt no.4 identity reveal

whumpee: nick burkhardt

fandom: grimm

what’s up! i am back! hope u enjoy this fic :) it is set very very early in the show, before 1x08 at some point.

Nick was pretty sure he didn’t like this. Walking alone through an abandoned office building, his footsteps echoing off the walls, water dripping from somewhere, the occasional squeak of a rat...it wasn’t comfortable alone. Not that it would have been a luxurious task with Hank along, but it’d be better, anyway. He’d be less nervous. One tended to be nervous when one had recently found out that they were, evidently, a Grimm. 

But Hank had called in sick today, and this was just a precursory investigation. Nothing big, nothing dangerous, nothing that would end in disaster.

Or so he’d thought. He was climbing up the stairs to the second floor when there was a clanking noise from above him. Nick sighed. He really wasn’t in the mood for confrontation.

Not that that mattered. He’d barely stepped onto the second floor when someone was shining a flashlight into his face. He reflexively put up a hand to shield his eyes, squinting. 

“What’re you doing here?”

“Funny, I was just about to ask you the same question.”

The someone laughed. “What’re we doing here?” Great, Nick thought. We. “This is our territory. Our spot. Our place. Get it?”

“Find your own,” added the second person.

Nick sighed. He so did not want to deal with this.

“You can’t be here,” he said, imagining that saying this would do very little. 

“Who are you to say?” asked the man with the light, moving it away from Nick’s eyes to better illuminate his whole body. “We have just as much a right to be here as you.”

Nick slowly moved a hand to his gun, not liking where the situation was going.

“Get out, before I make you get out,” said the second man, and Nick heard the sound of him slamming a fist into his palm. It would have been threatening, but Nick had a gun. He’d be fine. “Now.”

The next few seconds went by in a blur. Nick grabbed his gun. One of the men in front of him yelled. Then something hit him over the head, and then all of a sudden he was waking up tied to a concrete support pillar, and he couldn’t feel his gun. Or his badge. Shit!

“So you’re a cop,” said the voice of the man who had been shining the light earlier. He stepped closer, close enough that Nick could feel the warmth of his body, but it was too dark, or else he’d been hit in the head too hard, because he couldn’t make out the man’s face. He held something up in front of Nick’s eyes. Even in his current blurred-vision condition, he could at least see the gold tint of his police badge. 

“What’s the play here?” he asked, figuring it was best not to delay. “You beat me up and leave me here to escape and hunt you down? You kill me and have the entire Portland Police Bureau breathing down your necks for the rest of your lives? You let me go and we never see each other again?”

Someone laughed - a new voice, not either of the two from before. The one who hit me over the head, Nick figured.

“Like that would ever happen,” he said. “A cop leave us alone? Now, see, if you had left us alone, you wouldn’t be in this situation, making bargains you don’t want to keep.”

He had a point. “I’m sure we could work something out.”

“Something that ends with us dead or in cuffs?”

“Pretty much.”

A fist slammed into Nick’s stomach. He doubled over as much as the ropes would allow, gasping for breath. 

When he picked his head up a second later, three dim outlines stood in front of him. 

“This is how it’s gonna go,” said the one on the right.

“We’re gonna hit you,” continued the one in the middle.

“And hit you,” elaborated the one on the right.

“Until you don’t feel shit,” the first said.

“If we’re feelin’ charitable, we might kill ya,” added the second.

“If you’re not so lucky we’ll let ya live,” concluded the third.

Nick pulled against the rope wrapped around him, not liking the sound of this plan at all. But it was no use. The rope was too tight, too thick, and he was too confused, too weak, too stupid. He’d gotten himself into this. There was no one but himself to blame. No one but himself to take whatever beating these guys were about to dish out.

It started out...tolerably. He’d been knocked around before. He’d never been tied up for it, granted, but a punch to the jaw was a punch to the jaw. 

And a punch to the head was a punch to the head. A fist to the throat was a fist to the throat. A kick to the knee was a kick to the knee. And on and on and on…

The three men moved like dancers, coordinating their punches, sliding in and out of his field of view, seemingly never interfering with each other’s plans to hurt him, but instead helping each other out. 

Three punches to the stomach from one man, causing him to bend the top of his body over as much as he could. A fist to the chin from another, snapping his head back up, exposing his chest again. A swift elbow to his ribcage, making something crack ominously. Another punch. A kick. Something to the face. Pain in his right arm. 

Eventually, the words of the men came true: he couldn’t feel anything. Or, he could, but the pain had stopped coming. Everything hurt, and he was aware of that fact, but the pain had completely enveloped him, a thick blanket against the continued onslaught. His body had reached its quota on pain, evidently. He could feel no more.

At some point, the men apparently noticed this, and decided to stop. Nick knew this because he couldn’t feel anything touching him anymore. They untied him, and he knew this because he went sliding to the floor against the pillar. He couldn’t see them. Maybe he’d closed his eyes at some point, in a baseless attempt to get the pain to stop. Maybe they were open, but there was blood preventing them from seeing. 

He blinked experimentally, and was relieved to find that he could sort of see. There wasn’t much to see, just the dark, but there was faint light streaming in through a broken window. It was enough to see drops of his own blood on the floor around him, to see a bruise forming on the back of his right hand, the only part of his body that he could see the damage to. 

He slowly shoved himself up off of the floor, leaning onto the pillar that had previously helped trap him for support. He clumsily felt his pockets. Empty, as he’d expected. Great. Nick took a second to collect himself, trying to ignore the way his entire body pulsed along with his slightly-too-fast heartbeat, like one giant bruise (which it probably was, he thought). He really didn’t want to go to the hospital. He also really didn’t want to go back to work. He couldn’t go home, because Juliette would make him go to the hospital, and he couldn’t go to Hank’s for the same reason. Plus, both of them would insist on involving the police, and Nick didn’t want that. He just wanted to rest. 

At last a thought came to him: he could go to Monroe’s. They were something like friends, and he was pretty sure the man wouldn’t force him to do anything. 

That settled, Nick cautiously made his way down the stairs, a task which took him perhaps fifteen minutes, as every step made his legs nearly crumple beneath him, made the breath leave his lungs in sharp gasps that were hell on his surely bruised-all-to-hell torso.

Eventually, though, he made it out of the building, and set on a slow limp for Monroe’s house, which was fortunately only four blocks away. 

Approximately an hour, three stumbles, one excruciatingly painful fall, and countless winces and groans later, Nick was standing on Monroe’s porch, belatedly realizing he had no idea what time it was. Middle of the night, he figured, not sure exactly how much time had passed during his beating. But he was here already, so there was no sense in not knocking. 

Almost immediately, Monroe opened the door.

“Dude,” he said, a look of shock on his face. “What happened to you?”

Nick pushed past him into the house, making a beeline for the couch, which he promptly collapsed onto with a poorly-concealed wince. 

“Sorry to bother you in the middle of the night,” he whispered, his voice scratching. He put a hand to his throat, and suddenly there was another hand pulling it away.

“That looks...ouch,” Monroe said, eloquently. “Shouldn’t you be at the hospital or something?”

Nick shook his head slightly. “Didn’t want to...why I came here.”

“Oh,” Monroe said. “I hadn’t realized we were at this stage of our friendship.”

“I can...I can leave,” Nick suggested, trying and failing to stand.

“No, no, don’t move,” Monroe said, gently pushing Nick back down. “I’ll uh...I’ll be back. Just give me a minute.”

He left, leaving Nick to lay his head back against the cushions, belatedly hoping that he wasn’t bleeding all over Monroe’s couch. 

A few minutes later, Monroe returned, his arms overloaded with what looked like an entire hospital’s worth of medical supplies. 

“I wasn’t sure what to get,” he said apologetically, setting it down with a loud clatter. 

“‘M I bleeding?” Nick asked, ignoring the supplies.

“A little. Your forehead’s pretty bloody. So’s like, the whole part of your face under your nose. It’s not bleeding now, though,” Monroe added quickly. 

“‘S good,” Nick figured. 

“I guess so,” Monroe agreed. “I’m gonna start with that, then. The blood, I mean.”

Nick nodded his assent, once again leaning his head back into the couch cushions, closing his eyes. A soft cloth touched his forehead, cool and damp and way more comforting than it had any right to be. Slowly, it moved down his face, at last coming to a stop below his chin.

“That’s that done,” Monroe said, clapping his hands together. “Now I’m assuming that whoever did this to you didn’t limit themselves to just your face?”

“No,” Nick agreed, briefly blinking open his eyes.

“Can I uh, take off your jacket then?”

“Sure.”

“And probably your shirt.”

“Yeah.”

The jacket came off fairly painlessly, but the shirt presented a problem.

“Unless you can move your arms up, this shirt’s not going anywhere.”

Nick shook his head. Even doing that hurt, let alone raising his arms. “Can’t,” he said, to emphasize the point.

“I gotta do something, man.”

“Do it,” Nick said.

“What? Nick. Do what?”

Nick, however, had used up all of his energy. He said nothing, just sighed and grimaced when the action brought him more pain.

“I really hope this is what you meant, ‘cause I’m not buying you another shirt,” Monroe said grimly, and then he began cutting down the front of Nick’s shirt. He pulled it off, audibly wincing when he saw the damage to Nick’s upper body.

“‘S bad?” Nick managed to find the strength to whisper. 

“Yeah, buddy. It’s bad. I’ll clean this up as much as I can, but you should really go to the hospital. You might have broken ribs or internal bleeding or something.”

Nick raised a shoulder in an approximation of a shrug. Those worries could wait for later. After he’d slept.

Monroe began cleaning and bandaging Nick’s upper body. He poked at the bruises a good deal harder than Nick would’ve liked, and Nick hadn’t had the heart (or the strength) to tell him that there was little point in wrapping bandages around his ribs, but overall, he did a good job of cleaning away the spots of blood and dirt that covered Nick’s skin, and the cream he’d applied to the bruises (some kind of natural remedy, he’d said), seemed to actually be working. Nick felt...marginally less terrible.

“I think that’s it. You want me to do anything else, or…?” Monroe trailed off.

“I wanna sleep,” Nick said, wondering vaguely whether he was allowed to stay.

“Go ahead,” Monroe suggested. “I’d offer you the guest room, but I can’t imagine you’re in any shape for the stairs.”

“Couch’s fine,” Nick mumbled, already on the verge of sleep. “‘S nice.” 

“Good night,” he heard Monroe say, and then he was distantly aware of being gently moved to lie down, and then he felt something very warm and a little scratchy being draped over him, and then his shoes were gone, and then he was asleep.

thanks for reading this! apologies if its not so good i have like no time to edit lol

[momentofmemory]

FICTOBER 2020 - day twenty

Prompt #17: “Give me a minute or an hour.”

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Characters: Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Kira Yukimura, Liam Dunbar.

Words: 1373

Author’s Note: Because someone needs to tell Scott it’s okay to let yourself heal. Post 5x18. Stiles POV. Read the extended version on Ao3.

>> what measure is a non-human

Running out into the school parking lot, Kira right on his heels, and not seeing a centuries old were-monster is easily one of the top ten pleasant surprises Stiles has had in the last two months.

Seeing his best friend half-dragging himself towards the jeep, looking like he’s got more blood on him than in him, not so much.

“Scott!”

Kira’s sprinting past him before Stiles can get an appropriate what the hell out, and she just barely catches Scott before he nosedives into the asphalt. A shell-shocked Liam appears from behind a row of cars, hands reaching for Scott like he wants to touch the alpha, but isn’t sure if it’d be welcome.

The only sound louder than Stiles’ heart pounding in his ears is his feet slapping against the pavement.

He covers the last few yards and skids to a stop in front of them.

Scott looks even worse up close.

A deep cut above his temple, blood crusted over half his face. Both shoulders mangled. Two long, garish sets of claw marks across his chest and back. Multiple internal injuries, if the bruising, raspy breathing, and dazed expression are any indication.

Stiles’ stomach turns. He’d already met his quota for injured werewolves tonight—which was zero, thank you very much.

“What—the hell—happened?” It’s meant to be a demand, but he’s a little out of breath so it comes out more confused than anything.

“The Beast," Scott says, his words tumbling out fragmented for an entirely different reason. “Trying to—stop it. Get its scent.”

“You fought that thing?” Stiles remembers with painful accuracy how quickly it’d KO’d Liam. Scott’s varying degrees of not-healed injuries suggest a much longer fight.

Scott doesn’t seem to notice his shock. “I tracked it out here. It’s—it’s Mason.”

Stiles pales, still taking in Scott’s injuries.

Oh, shit.

“Mason did this?” Kira looks horrified. “As in our Mason?”

“It wasn’t him,” Liam says. “Or, I mean, it was, but it’s not—he didn’t mean to. Like actually didn’t mean to, not like—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Scott says, and there’s that deeply disconcerting rasp again. “He’s our friend. We’ve gotta find him before the Dread Doctors do.”

“But Scott, the scent—”

“We can still track them as people.” Scott’s looking more and more determined the longer they talk, but also more and more like he has one foot in the ground and can’t wait to add the other. “Places they go, people they’d trust. We can’t just—”

His determination is undercut when a coughing fit, complete with blood splatter because when isn’t their lives a clichéd horror film, sends him collapsing against the side of the jeep.

“Whoa!”

“Okay,” Stiles says, as Kira grabs Scott’s arm and drapes it around her shoulders. “I realize we have a bit of a situation here, but you have too much in common with a very loved and very abused chew toy to be picking fights with anyone right now, psychotic Doctors or no.”

“No, I’m okay,” Scott says, and boy if Stiles does not need to be a werewolf to hear that lie.

Kira, thankfully, is on his side, given that Scott’s side is literally bleeding all over her.

“Scott, you’re hurt,” she says.

Stiles swears Scott actually flinches at that, which—filing that away for further review.

“I’ll be fine,” Scott says, because of course he does. He tries to ease his weight off Kira, and it’s telling when all it takes to stop him is her adjusting her grip. “Every second we waste arguing about this—”

“Is a second you could be resting.”

Scott looks physically pained, which is hilarious, because that’s what he is.

“We have to find him, Kira,” he says. “I—It’s Mason.”

“Hayden and I can start looking,” Liam says, finally making himself useful. “We know Mason and Corey’s scents the best, anyway.”

“And I can contact Parrish and Lydia,” Stiles says. “I’m sure they’ve had a very relaxed last couple hours, comparatively speaking, and are dying to go traipsing around town.”

“Look, I said I’ll be fine,” Scott says, frustration and an emotion Stiles can’t quite pin coloring his voice. “Just—just give me a minute.”

All three of them shoot Scott incredulous looks.

“…Or an hour,” he amends, like that fixes anything.

Stiles has had enough, because even in the handful of seconds they’ve spent arguing, Scott’s only slunk deeper into Kira’s support and it’s kind of starting to scare him. “Dude, you look like you need a month.”

“We don’t have that kind of time!”

It’s the genuine anger—no, fear—that slips into Scott’s voice that finally clues him in to what he’d been missing.

Scott had just healed from the last time he’d gotten badly beaten, and that had taken weeks of recovery—during which, he hadn’t been allowed to rest.

“Scott,” Kira says, and she must’ve figured it out, too, because her voice drops, “it’s okay to take time to heal.”

Something fractures in Scott’s expression, and Stiles curses Theo and the Dread Doctors and probably himself, because couldn’t this godforsaken town have given Scott more than a single day—

“I just need a couple hours,” Scott tries, and Stiles doesn’t understand why he won’t just let it go until he adds, “I’ll heal eventually either way.”

And.

Shit.

Shit.

Stiles looks at Scott’s ashen face and sees the same one he’d had while sitting in the back of a bus, standing in a puddle of gasoline, laying on a hospital floor.

You’ll heal.

“Scott,” he says, the words sticking painfully to the roof of his mouth, “You don’t—you might heal, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter, okay? I was—”

Stiles cuts off from where he was about to say upset, swallows it down, and slots back in the word that’s more correct—and the one that Scott needs to hear. “—I was wrong.”

Glassy eyes meet his, and Stiles adds concussion to the list of things he should be worried about. “But I—I can do this—”

“Scott,” Kira says, “if I let go of you right now, could you even walk across the parking lot?”

Scott, who looks like he’d fall over if Stiles breathed on him funny, looks very much like he’d still be willing to try.

“She’s right, Scott,” Liam pipes up, though his gaze remains firmly locked on his hands. “Just because you’ll heal from something doesn’t mean you have to be in pain.”

“Please, Scott,” Stiles says. “Let us help you for once. And if your own wellbeing isn’t enough to convince you, for the sake of altruism or whatever, you’d probably be more useful if you let yourself heal anyway.”

Scott looks between his three determined pack members and licks his lips nervously—there’s blood there, too, and Stiles’ earlier fears about internal injuries resurge. “But I…”

Kira nods to Liam, who scrambles to open the door to the jeep’s backseat. She starts moving them towards it, Stiles shuffling in to take Scott’s other side, when Scott digs in his heels.

“Wait,” he says. “We can’t leave without Malia—Braeden—”

“They’re right behind us, buddy.” Stiles is fully guessing, but he figures they’re more than capable of handling themselves either way.

“Braeden’s stayed to fix the cover story for the kids in the library,” Liam offers. “Malia, too. They said she’d catch up.”

Scott still looks like he wants to argue, so Stiles hurries to stuff him into the backseat with Kira as gently but quickly as possible. “See? All bases covered.”

Stiles then tosses Liam the keys to Scott’s bike while they get settled—“Don’t wreck it—” and turns back to Scott. “I’m thinking your house? Get that sweet, sweet medical exam from your mom?”

Scott hesitates, only half listening if the guilt lining his face means anything. He keeps one hand on the door, preventing Stiles from shutting it. “I might not—heal. For a while.”

Stiles swallows. “Yeah. Yeah, I know, Scotty.”

“But it’s worth it,” Kira says. She threads her fingers through Scott’s and places a soft kiss on his knuckles. “No amount of time is worth losing you.”

Scott looks at Kira, then looks at Stiles.

He lets Stiles close the door.

[swore]

"Like how many hours a day do i spend not trying to be myself by using music food media consumption sex daydreaming drugs alcohol cigarettes and napping. i barely live at all?"

Isn't that living though? Everything you listed? If you take away music, food, sex, etc, what's left? Does being yourself mean meditating like a monk? I don't think so. Anyway, I hope you feel better soon. Take care

WELL from my perspective i always have a quota to fill every single day/week without fail. i do this to both distract myself from my pain and fill in the emptiness i always carry in me. Im sure in some ways most people are the same or at least thats what i feel. my routine is as follows:

listen to music daydream and nap 4 hrs/day minimum

invest myself in any piece of media that grants me happiness, self fulfillment or self identification every week

sex used to be twice a week but now twice a month is fine. currently in a weird spot with that topic in my life

indulge in sweets and sugar daily. like i can not eat almost anything but that is a necessity i guess

ive cut back on cigarettes alcohol and weed but i mean there is not a month that goes by without me using them. thank god i dont have a lot of money because id genuinely just drink every night

i have a great partner so i dont use romance as a distraction or to feel good anymore but i guess thats what i do with most of my friendships now. I dont think im very good in the sense that im not one to remember birthdays or check up on others but as soon as i feel like shit and want someone with me im suddenly interested in others again. not all of them though at least

so my reasoning is i do all these things periodically so i can disconnect myself from the parts of me that are always writhing with pain or grief. i think i barely live because many of my actions are just me trying not to feel myself because (a) cant really afford good therapy right now and (b) many of my ills come from either delusions or other people who wont apologize or heal me. so all i have is time and unlimited distractions. the other half of my life well i got my studies and responsibilities and trying to make money so i just wonder when do i really feel myself

but as someone so kind to send me this ask i will try to see what you mean and figure out your perspective. Im inclined to agree that yes this is all part of living and there can be many good things to be seen in the mundane and repetitive but i fear ive become like a pacing tiger inside its cage. try poking it or change its routine and itll lash out... and I suppose the real question is why was it agitated in the first place? and thats what therapy is for. which I cant really do at the moment. but hey at least i love my partner and best friends and even though Im not 100% here I dont think a lot of people are, either

[officialtripper]

Unusual Destinations-1

In recent few years, I had a good opportunity to travel a lot on work. I am not an outright extrovert; I do love observing people but a part of me doesn’t allow me to kick start conversation with strangers easily. I watch people and picturize a portrait of them in my mind merely by watching them and their behavior. I have been enjoying doing this and you might call me judgmental for doing that, well maybe I am. However, I am only referring to the strangers here.

I am limited to a handful of people in my personal life and I don’t trust people easily to allow them to walk into my life. This is partly out of my insecurity of being taken advantage of. And the flip side to having limited people in life is that you expect a lot from these few people close to you. And you are always highly protective about them and constantly insecure about losing them. The world seems to end when you learn that they have made new friends and to avoid that sort of pain, I tend not to befriend many people. So, you see it’s a vicious cycle of confusion on my mind. Practically thinking I might rather have more friends and be prepared to lose one or two from time to time while the conscious part of me wants to keep my social circle as small as possible.

Anyway, too much about me, the reason I thought of begin this writing is to describe about the numerous places I have visited to. Well most of these places are not the ones you would find on the top travel destination list. But I would like to share few things which I found interesting about these places and worthy of sharing. Wherever I visit, I do a bit of personal research on things like history of the place, about the local culture and of course about the food. I am a foodie, if that’s a legitimate word.

I somehow want to start with the town of Belgaum in Karnataka, my instinct has been strongly forcing me to begin with this place.

 1.       BELGAUM: (Belagavi)

A good two hours drive from Hubli through a highway sided with vast stretch of lush fields and scattered human habitation takes you the town of Belgaum. The region has been center of geo political drama between the states of Karnataka and Maharashtra for decades now. The region has a sizeable Marathi speaking population and therefore should have been a part of Maharashtra state as per one faction. However in 1956, with the passage of States Reorganization Act, the district of Belgaum was incorporated in to Karanataka (Mysore State back then). Ever since both the states and the local populace have been polarized about the affiliation.

The sign of which stands firm as soon as you are about to enter the town.  A massive construction called Suvarna Vidhana Soudha ( Golden Jubilee Assembly House) built by Karnataka Government as a reiteration of its control over Belgaum dots the landscape significantly. However this cosmetic gesture doesn’t mean much since the building lies unused most of the time.

The main bazaar area of the town is a typical picture of what you would read in a Rudyard Kipling novel dated almost a century back. The hundreds of narrow alleys cris crossing the bazaar with shops giving out sharp aroma of spices and hawkers seated on ground with their neatly arranged stuffs for sale is a visual treat for someone who romanticizes the idea of vibrance. You see beautiful Marwari women with deep cut blouses and sarees tuck way below navel exposing their upper backs and tummies in just right proportion riding mopeds and honking incessantly demanding their space in congested alleys. The farmers from surrounding villages who have sold their products to the whole sellers can be spotted near wine shops and sweet shops waiting to buy their quota of celebration after weeks of efforts. The young Muslim lads who love to adore their eyes with dark mascara can be seen roaming around trading anything from cell phone sim cards to plastic toys and socks. And of course, you can’t miss seeing the hundreds of small and big shrines finding their space in between the shops and houses. Each alley has a different name and it can be very confusing as to where one ends, and another begins. “Galli” as they call it locally mostly derive their names from the deity of the shrine that guards the respective area.

Behind the lines of shops are the age-old houses which probably have been there for centuries in very same fashion and clutter as we see them today. Classification amid chaos is clearly visible, as we see ghettos segregated based on caste and religious lines. The Muslims mainly small traders or auto rickshaw drivers love to commemorate their glorious past of martialism, by furling green flags with image of their hero, Tipu Sultan on top of their houses, shops and auto rickshaw stands. On the other side, you can spot saffron flags with face of brave warrior Shivaji imprinted on them waving high over Maratha households. The Kannada speakers mainly belonging to the Lingayat community probably don’t have a flag yet, but you can find a picture of their founding father, Basavanna hanging on the walls inside their shops and houses.

It is the linguistic difference that left this place vulnerable to political scuffle for years and therefore the localities found their middle ground by adopting Hindi as a common medium of communication on streets. It is very common to find people switching from Kannada to Marathi to Hindi in flow of their conversation. Kannadigas feel it’s a natural right to speak Kannada as a primary language as they are a part of Karnataka while vast majority of Marathis are a bit reluctant to converse in Kannada. A local version of Hindi is therefore used as a neutral means of communication. The Muslims who anyway speak Deccanean Urdu (an adulterated variant of modern Hindi) obviously seem to be the happiest lot when it comes to language controversy.

Despite strong linguistic differences, the staple diet remains same for both Kannada and Marathi speakers. You will find umpteen number of houses doubling as mess, serving chapatis made of either maize flour, wheat flour or millet combined with sabzis made of pulses along with sambhar-rice. As humble it may sound, the food from these Khanavalis can be highly soothing to your soul if you have a palate for Indian home cooked meals.

The signature dish for the town is a sweet preparation called “Kunda” made from milk and caramel by curdling the former into a thick paste with several hours of boiling. I personally feel the dish is a bit over rated but since it has earned its reputation, I wouldn’t undermine it and leave it to the individuals’ taste buds to rate this local delight.

Although not by the coast itself, Belgaum is just three hours drive from Goa and therefore is well supplied with some tasty fishes from the Arabian Sea. However seafood not being the essential part of traditional local cuisine, you need to go exploring a bit to find shacks serving good fish preparations. And if you find one, don’t miss to order the “Rawas” or Indian Salmon.

The proximity to Konkan- Malvan region gifts this town with yet another boon. My personal favourite and I call it a pink nectar, if you haven’t guessed it already; I’m referring to “Sol Kadhi”. This pink colored thick beverage has coconut milk as its base, the tangy Kokkum (Mangosteen) flavor synergizes with strong garlic essence to pacify your throat and stimulate your adrenaline more sensously than any packaged energy drink.

There is no significant place to hang out or visit in town. There are few renowned educational institutes and an Army school both of which attracts students from distant parts of the country. All in all, Belgaum is not very different from the hundreds of smaller towns scattered across India, however like every bit of India it has a distinct charm of its own.

[beatricebidelaire]

(sitting on the) edge of innocence

summary: Kit, Bertrand, and a talk in the Hinterlands about the upcoming opera night mission.

featuring: Bertrand, Kit. brief cameos of Olaf and Dewey.

word count: ~2.2k

alt: ao3

“Hey,” Olaf said as he walked into the kitchen, “you seen Kit?”

Bertrand felt himself tense slightly at the sight of O, but didn’t show it.  He continued pouring the boiled water from the pot into his cup carefully, his grip tightening around the handle.  The water in the cup eventually rose to the stage where he couldn’t add anymore without spilling it over when he walked, and he reluctantly put it down.  He knew Kit was out for a drive, but he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to tell Olaf that.

On the other hand, it wasn’t like the answer would get Olaf anywhere closer to finding Kit, with vagueness of “out for a drive” and Kit’s driving abilities and how she had no qualms of going on a road she’d never travelled before, literally not figuratively anyway. It wasn’t like Bertrand had never lied to Olaf before, and he’d no problem doing it again if he needed, but he did try to avoid doing so when he could. As if he had some pre-allocated quota of lies he was allowed to tell him or something.  There wasn’t, of course, but he tried to stick to this principle if possible.

He was also currently keeping something else, something very important from O too, but he wouldn’t count that as lying. Those were two different things.  Besides, they were never that close anyway, it wasn’t as if he normally told Olaf stuff. If anyone’s Olaf’s friend that would be -- he stopped his train of thoughts and focused on the current situation. “She went out on a drive.” He said.

“Again?” Olaf rolled his eyes, huffing as he ruffled through the fridge, then found a sandwich. He began eating it as he walked out, “I’m starting to think she’s avoiding me.”

Bertrand was glad Olaf’s already one foot out of the kitchen and not looking back, because this meant he didn’t have to think of a reply to this.

He sighed, then took a sip of the tea.  

Kit had good reason to avoid Olaf, of course.  Getting an assignment from your organization to be part of the mission to murder your boyfriend’s parents wasn’t something that happened everyday.  But if Olaf was suspicious of something going on …

He needed to talk to Kit, even though this wasn’t a conversation he was looking forward to at all.  

Bertrand decided that since he wouldn’t be able to find Kit immediately now anyway, he might as well do something else for now.  He slipped into a tunnel from down under the city headquarters, and headed for Hotel Denouement. Or, more precisely, the hidden underwater library.

Dewey lit up when he saw Bertrand, grinning. “Hey,” he waved enthusiastically, “I want to show you this poem I found.”

Bertrand found himself relax, the thoughts about the mission and the impending talk with Kit going away.  Not entirely, as they were still on the back of his mind somewhere. But it was easier to ignore them here, surrounded by books that formed some kind of fortress against realities.  In here, there were just piles and piles of books, poetry, and Dewey.  No opera house maps with escape routes drawn, no trying to get poison darts supplies without arousing suspicions.

Unfortunately, these brief moments of peace always came to an end too soon.  Dewey looked at him hopefully when he said “visit again soon”, and Bertrand meant it when he said he would try, but somehow he still felt suddenly guilty for some reason.

Kit stepped on the brakes with possibly much more force than necessary and the taxi came to a sudden stop. For a moment, it looked like she was going to hit her head.  It didn’t happen, though it was very close. She drew a deep breath, and slowly loosened her tightened hold on the wheel.  She tried to smile a little, or perhaps a flippant grin or something, so when Bertrand step into the taxi, she could make it seem like she was just braking like this for fun, like she usually did, instead of because of anger and frustration.  It was hard trying remembering how to smile though. She managed to pulled the edge of her lips up slightly, but it felt more menacing than fun.  

On second thought, whatever, it was Bertrand. She didn’t necessarily have to pretend in front of him, perhaps. Not like she had to with either --

The door opened, and Bertrand stepped in.  However menacing or odd her unnatural grin might be, apparently he didn’t have much reaction to it. “Kit, we need to talk,” he said, straight to the point.

“I gathered,” she said coolly, finally figure out a way to smoothly ease out that weird grin.  “Want to go anywhere specific?”

A part of her wished he would yes, then she could tell him “well, if you’re lucky, it might be the same as the place I had in mind” and then drove to the Hinterlands so she wouldn’t have to see Olaf for a while.

“There is a specific place I wish I’m at, but that’s not where I think this conversation could be held, so … your choice.”

She narrowed her eyes briefly at the statement, momentarily forgetting her own personal troubles and anger. “Is it an underwater library you have in mind?”

He looked slightly taken aback. “How did you -- ”

“Dewey isn’t just your friend,” she rolled her eyes. “He mentioned you two have been reading poetry together a lot lately.”

“Yeah, guess we are,” he shrugged, a little uncomfortably.  She had the urge to ask if he ever thought he was using Dewey and his library as some kind of safe escape from the real life burdens, or ask him if he could see Dewey’s feelings for him that were just so … there.  She ultimately didn’t, because just a look at him made her sure that the first answer definitely was a yes, and the second a no.

“Well,” she changed the subject abruptly, stepping the accelerator hard, “we’re going to the Hinterlands.”

She heard a soft sigh from him, which oddly made her slightly satisfied.  The car sped up in an extreme short span of time, and she gripped the wheel tight, her fingers clenching around it as if clenching to the last thing still within her control as everything else spiraled out of order.  Fuck Bertrand for having this perfectly organized, neatly ordered library to escape to whenever he wanted without even realizing Dewey’s feelings.  Fuck herself for being jealous but refused to escape the same way, because she wanted to prove that she didn’t need the perfectly calm, isolated, and organized comfort zones right there in The City like he did.

If she was going to escape to somewhere, let it be a bleak, cold, snowy place up in the mountains.

She glanced at the intersection briefly, then ran a red light as they left the city behind.

They sat by a cliff, gazing at the snow mountains.  She pulled a pencil out of her hair and stuck it into the snow, for no particular reason.

“You’ve been avoiding Olaf,” Bertrand said finally, “he’s probably getting suspicious of something going on.”

“What, you two talk?” she scoffed. Staring at the pencil in the snow instead of looking up at him.

“He talks and I keep an ear open for anything that might threaten the mission,” Bertrand corrected her.

She used one hand to hold the part of pencil that was just above the snow, and the other to bend the upper parts of the pencil forward.  The pencil broke, leaving just the bottom half stuck in the snow.  She looked up at him, eerily calm as their eyes met. “He might be suspicious in general, but he had no idea of what’s specifically going on.”

“Not yet.”

She laughed sharply, “And it won’t matter anymore at that point, will it?  It’s not like he’s not going to find out who’s in on the mission eventually. It’s not like we’re all going to go back to our normal lives pretending nothing happened. It’s not like he and I are still going to be together after this.”

“Fine,” he bit out, looking a little angry.  Her lips twisted humorlessly, thinking to herself that she bet Beatrice never saw this side of him.  Neither did Dewey, probably. Or Jacques or Lemony. “But it’s still best to make sure he doesn’t think anything’s out of order, or he might start digging around, and if he got some help from others it might interfere with this.”

He sounded like he had a point, but Kit really doubted Olaf would directly jump to these kind of suspicions just by her avoiding him.  He might think she was seeing someone else, possibly, but definitely not plotting a murder where his parents were targets.

“Beatrice and him are still hanging out like normal as if nothing’s happening,” he added, and Kit suddenly wanted to break something more substantial than a pencil stuck in snow.  God, so this is about Beatrice now, is it? You think you understand her?  

You don’t understand her like I do and you never will, she wanted scream.

“You think she’s perfect,” she said slowly. “Everything she does is never wrong.  You don’t even understand why she’s keeping up her appearances with Olaf and that’s not just because of the mission.  You don’t understand her at all -- you don’t understand her like I do.”

You don’t understand her like I do you can’t see her like I could you don’t see the real her completed with all her flaws and still love her anyway still love her still love her still love her rough sides and sharp edges and her darker sides still love her, she thought, painfully.

“Don’t confuse other people with me,” he snapped, and she wondered if he really meant to say ‘your brother’.  “I don’t think she’s perfect and I don’t claim to understand her or know if she has other motives for doing so, I’m just saying she’s not suddenly avoiding him in a way that would make him suspicious -- unlike you.”

A beat of silence.  Snow continued falling from the sky.

“Sorry, I’m just, so afraid something’s going to go wrong,” he said, voice dropping to almost a whisper. He looked very pained for a moment before immediately slipping back into his very particular on brand anxiously-trying-to-get-along-with-everyone mode. “I know this isn’t easy for you.  I’m sorry.”

She didn’t want to talk about it.  She didn’t want to talk about Olaf or how she wanted to avoid him, or how she had agreed at the assignment briefing that yes she would take on the mission, and yes they could trust her, she would be a volunteer first.

He was looking at her, worry in his eyes and all the previous anger gone. She could practically feel him vibrating with anxiousness.  

She was suddenly very, very tired.

She decided to talk about Beatrice instead. “Beatrice’s not just pretending nothing’s going on when with him for the mission’s sake. She’s -- they’re friends for ages and she’s going to miss how it was, once everything between them changes.  She’s trying to hold on to the final moments.” I know her I see the real her I see everything she doesn’t say.

“I never really get their friendship,” he said quietly after some moments of silence, staring at the white scenery in front of them. “She’s -- I think she’s a great actress and there’s a lot she’s hiding underneath her dramatic performances that dazzle people. But, it’s like an earthquake, you know?  Sometimes when the energy doesn’t release for a very long time and just kept accumulating ...”

“Some places never get earthquakes, though,” she pointed out, wrapping her coat around her more firmly.

“True,” he conceded.

They were quiet for a while. Then Kit said, “She won’t break, and she won’t let anything affect the mission, even if she’s trying to hang on to these last moments of friendship between them.  She won’t.  I know her.” Her fingers dug into the snow beside the pencil. I know her I know her I know her --

“Right, okay,” he said, quietly. “I trust you on this.”

“Trust me on what I said about Olaf, too,” she said. “I can’t handle this the same way Beatrice does because it’s easier to avoid him for me, but I do know him enough to know he’s not going to suspect anything specific until it’s too late that knowing what exactly to interfere wouldn’t change anything.”

“Okay,” he agreed, tearing his gaze away from the scenery and met her eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust your decisions.”

He looked as tired as she felt, but she could also see the sincerity in his eyes. She didn’t have the energy to stay angry anymore, not in this cold snowy weather.  Plus, it wasn’t actually that easy for anyone to stay angry at him for too long.

“I know you’re just worried,” she said with a sigh.  She pulled out the half of the pencil that was stuck in snow, and pocketed both halves. “C’mon.  Let’s head back.”

[devil666lovesblog]

The Disneyland and the Heaven on Earth for man

I graduated with a Bachelor of Art Degree in Psychology a long time ago. It has been so long that sometimes I wonder if the knowledge I learned from the class expired, what I understand is the framework of Psychology seldom changes but the content updates with every research. Everyday everyone is using their own theory of mind to guess the intentions of others and to make good use of their time and energy. The Psychology I study for doesn't make me any money since I haven't gone through the loop of study for Master and beyond, so I am working on making good use of my inborn talent. I knew people before I learned to count with my fingers.

At one point in my life I live in a public estate with many neighbors, I am not a social person so I don't talk to others very much. What interested me is their daughters who are in the range of Primary School to Secondary school. Among them three girls stand out in my mind, one is the Miss Chan who lives next door, then another Miss Cheung the pineapple who lives nearby, yet another girl I never had her name. That is one of the few girls I talk to in that public estate. My major is Psychology but I am also an introvert and keep it to myself  most of the time. For what they knew of me, they only knew I stay home mostly and occasionally go out to eat nearby, I don't dress in expensive clothes nor I use an iPhone/iPad, and talk to my friends on the phone about politics and localism...etc.

One thing I learn from Psychology is the cultural difference between HongKong local and those immigrated from Communist China(via the 150 per day quota or other means), HongKong parents would seldom let a guy be with their daughters while those who came from villages tend to be more trusting, and HongKong citizens are usually law-abiding thereby nothing interesting happened between them. So suppose I want to enjoy their little delicious bodies with two tight holes in the first and the back? What should I do?

One of the social credits I had is my neighbor’s trust on my parents and me, so there is no suspicion that I would do anything harmful to Miss Chan and Miss Cheung. The next step is to force myself to talk to them like a friend and establish further good records with them and their parents. This step serves two purposes since they are both too young to have any serious fun anyway. It is hard for me to imagine an adult male enjoy fucking a girl below 12 years old, although I hear a lot of stories like sex trip to Vietnam and Cambodia which they play with 6-11 years old girls, sometimes two girls serve one man and he ejaculate inside their little wombs. Men can do all they want to little girls before they reach adolescence, there is no need for contraceptive pills or condoms when those girls can never get pregnant at those ages. A man’s heaven is when he shoots all the cum he wants without any need to bear responsibility. The most part of the excitement probably came from the very idea of an adult 3, 4 or 5 or 6 times a girl’s age fucking subduing a girl in the bed, it is so criminal and so immoral that a father is fucking someone younger than his daughter. He could easily project his daughter or someone else’s daughter’s image to that poor little girl and imagine that girl to be his sex slave for one fucking night, violation of the taboo of incest makes his dick harder than steel.

The crucial elements to persuade those girls sleep with me is something they would be dying for, I heard of the story when a man brought a PS3 to a 12 years old daughter who live in the same estate so he can fuck her for few hours, she gave him blowjob and he shoot in her mouth, tie her up to the bed so he can stick his dick in her tight hole when playing with her asshole with a pencil until he cum inside her still developing womb which she is crying for pain, and they wash together in the same bathroom for more blowjobs. That girl doing so willingly because her father has touched her all over, it would be a matter of time which the father would do the same to her for something much lesser valuable than a PS4. Maybe he bring her out to pick and choose a desktop computer for the coming school years then take her to the love hotel in MongKok so he could prostitute her and fucking her in the hole for the very first time, and later brought the computer home pretending they spend the whole day shopping around for goods. However, with this precedent the girl would expect her father would start fucking her whenever he have the energy and spare time then brought her contraceptive pills to take. Such an easy and convenient tight hole is just too sweet a temptation for this male animal, he is home-bound when any women/ladies other than his wife is sexually accessible. Besides that cost him little or nothing extra than the existing living expense.  And this time assume I got two tickets from Disneyland from a lucky draw. 

One first has to desensitize the girls against touching and caress, it has to be done very carefully by touching her more and more everyday. I admit it would be much easier if I lived in Shum Shui Po, the poorest district in HongKong, which I am surrounded by a lot of poor people and their daughters. To some of those girls which can’t afford a computer, a full day accessible to your desktop computer would also mean you have full access to their private parts. Just imagine a long line of girls outside your apartment’s door waiting for the chance to use your computer while you touch them in all the ways you wanted. Or even open a computer shop for the poor to use computers(since public libraries are always full), they either pay with their wallet or pay with their bodies. For printing or scanning a document you can demand those girls for a blowjob.    

I have been to Disneyland in the USA that is not very interesting to me, and don’t assume all the girls in HongKong are dying for ‘all-America style of amusement’. We have Ocean Park and anyone on their birthday could go there for free. What makes those tickets more valuable than gold is when their homework assignment requires them to take photos and write notes about an amusement park. Originally the school already assigned tickets for them to ensure everybody has a chance to do their homework. That project is a must for them to graduate in Primary school to Secondary school, the teachers are not not dumb and they want proof of they had taken photo and use the service in that amusement park. I would have zero chance if they hadn’t lost their ticket somewhere. They delay the project until it is almost the deadline to hand it the homework. To fake all the documents and photos would be a grave offense against the school, any student doing so could face expulsion from the school and a poor record that is unchangable for life.

So close to the deadline Miss Chan knocks at my door when my mother is out asking to see if I had any tickets to any major amusement park. I asked her what had happened and she told me the whole story. ‘So you lost your ticket and you can’t do your homework, right?’ ‘Yes’

‘And you don’t want your parents nor school to know about that?’ ‘Yah’. Then I flash a devilish smile and take out the Disneyland ticket, she smiles warmly. ‘But too bad, I am planning a date with my girlfriend and that is her ticket, I will buy one on that day.’ ‘So you can’t really help me?’ I reply: If you want me to help you, can you do what my girlfriend does with me? I unzipped my pants, took out my penis and said: ‘Kneel and gave me a blowjob then I would consider that.’ She then kneels with her long leg and hair. I said: Crawl like a dog, I stepped on both of her hands then used my penis to move around her face, her eyes and her ears, her lips then her tooth. I command: Suck it like you are eating ice-cream. With the eyesight of such a young girl sucking my dick one can easily explode in just a minute, but she is an athletic and I had to out-will her. I start breathing deeply when she uses her tongue on the most sensitive part of my body. And after a while I sat down thereby releasing one leg then she could use her hand to encircle my penis moving it back and forth. All is done while my desktop computer is secretly recording what she is doing in my apartment. First her left hand then her right hand, both of her hands surround my back so I can thrust back and fro into her tightly throat. I said: If you throw up on me that doesn't count. And you need at least three blowjobs to pass this test, and if you want to be for sure then I want at least six cum in your mouth. So I dick-train her mouth for the next hour and half thereby shooting a lot of load to her mouth, she has no choice but to swallow them all. After all it’s done she asks for the ticket, I said: Come back tomorrow to suck my dick six more times, now I want to blow right in your face now. Again I rub my dick against her face very hard and very hard until I shot the cum in front of her eye. ‘Don’t wash otherwise my dick would stick in your ass’, I took her smartphone and photo it then sent it to my secret whatsapp account. ‘This photo would keep you from doing anything funny or telling your parents. I don’t think your parents would enjoy seeing you getting fucked in the face.’

The original plan is for her to get use to face-job, hand-job, blow-job and eventually sexual intercourse; I would not gave her my ticket until I take her ass from behind, then I would bring her to the Disneyland and fuck her all night long that night. She has the privilege of having all her holes fucked before her period arrives. As luck would have it, not just her but Miss Cheung also demanded such a ticket from me. I tell her the same story then another girl book the ticket with blowjobs. ‘So what can you offer?’ Then she opens her leg, I pull down her underwear and I go under her dress to kiss her cunt and play with her clitoris, occasionally rubbing her ass. Next thing I do with her is 6-9 intercourse which she sucks my dick and I finger her vagina, I would have to be very careful not to break her hymen, and I even use a plastic tube to stick inside her hole for the fluid her vagina secrete. I said: I haven’t got enough fluid to drink, you need to be very wet slut! Masturbate in front of me. No fluid, no ticket. She really doesn't know how to masturbate so I help her grasp her smaller boobs then rubbing her clitoris. Imagine all that happening when I thrust my dick deep into her throat. And after a few minutes I release in her mouth I start fingering her asshole, then I command her to suck my dick using the frequency of my finger and her ass. All female are born with excellent capabilities to be trained for sex-slave. She learned how to please men using her mouth in the next two hours. I forgot how many times I shot inside her mouth and she happily ate all my cum without a word. ‘Come back tomorrow to do more of your homework, I will give you the ticket when you can outperform her at the bed.’ I was very exhausted. My plan for her when she is the only candidate is to ass-fuck her the night before she go to Disneyland then fuck all of her holes after that day. She could sleep in the Disneyland Hotel the next day till whatever hour she liked with my cums all over her face, mouth, in and out of her vagina, her breasts and her asshole. Now with two girls competing for the same tickets that means they would both have to entertain me with all theirs holes along with their first lesbian sex. Imagine two almost adolescent girls rubbing their breasts against each other, one caressing and kissing other’s private part while I thrust my dick deep inside her; or when one girl is sucking the clitoris and fingering the other girl while I fucking either one of them in mouth, or when two is having sex in 6-9 style while I fuck one of them in vagina, release the cum then ask the other girl to suck them dry while I fuck her in her hole; or two sluts rubbing each other in their private part while I take turn fucking each of them in one of their holes alternatively, or when two girls are taking a shower together with me fingering both of them, then two of them tasting and serving my dick, or when one girl sucking my dick and another girl using her tongue to clean my ass; or one of them peeing while another is sucking her clitoris then fuck that peeing girl, release my cum to that sucking girl when she have to pretend she is eating a delicious meal; or when they try to engulf a small plastic bottle with their vagina, one is helping other to the ecstasy by moving that back and fro in that little haven?

So first two very exhausting weeks which two girls blow job every single fucking day, and they eat cum more than the milk they drink everyday since I always unsatisfied with their last performance then demand another one yet another one. They are trained by my dick till they look genuinely happy after taking a delicious sperm meal. Then I would surprise them when I have two tickets and make the demand they have to have sex on me that night otherwise I would tell their school master which they attempt to seduce and steal my tickets for my girlfriend. That is both of them have to serve me individually for one round then I would take two of them together to Disneyland and fuck all of their holes from 8 till 4 in the morning, and before we leave the hotel they would both take a shower and let me cum in their womb, then one more shot in their mouths which they would have to carry them in their mouth until they went home. It is a man’s fantasy came true to fuck two virgin girls together.

And they really don’t know about my plan until one day I gather both of them together for a group fuck, and that is practicing what I am going to do in the Disneyland hotel.

[optimisticcritique]

Gotham Review - 4x21

I delayed this review a bit due to stressing and tweeting over season 5. Now I can edit this review properly :) Congrats Gothamites!  

An episode starting off with Lucius and Harvey scenes? Already a good episode. 

“Listen, Jim found his way out, understand?” I love how confident Harvey is in Jim’s survival. Either that or denial because he loves his best friend so much. 

On second thought, he probably knows that Jim’s plot armor shall be his salvation!

Oof all those cops talking smack to Harvey over the Pyg fiasco. Now is not the time to be questioning his authority, people. Don’t let them get to you, Harvey! 

Thank you, Harper. I have always loved you. Please don’t ever be cannon fodder. 

Oh, I completely forgot that no one knows about Jeremiah being evil yet. All they know is about Jerome followers and Bruce/Jeremiah possibly being in danger. 

Snazzy clothes Jeremiah! 

Yeah, he does not like being compared to his brother. Always insulting Jerome any time that someone mentions him. 

An evacuation huh? Hmm...

Huh. I kind of expected a bit of a more emotional response from Babs and possibly Oswald over Jim dying. I think Oswald is masking his pain with a styling wardrobe and money.

“or woman power, if you will” Awe look at Ozzie all for woman power lol

Using Butch’s “condition” to get what you want, Oswald? I see what you’re doing. 

Tabby giving her girlfriend puppy dog eyes to get what she wants. How can you say no to that, Babs?

Oswald’s expressions always get to me XD

They saved your life from Jerome, mayor. It’s best just to roll with it and do what they say.

Great. Now Bruce will be blaming himself for Jeremiah and the whole city destruction because of Wayne Enterprises funding it. As if he needed more things to blame himself for. 

Yeah, Jim would probably nag at Bruce to stay away, only for Bruce to not listen anyway. So, even with Harvey in charge, Bruce is right on track :P

The first thing you say on the phone is that you hope he didn’t catch a cold? As if that is his first concern when you are answering Alfred’s phone lol

You are going to prove you're his best friend by driving him insane, killing his butler, and destroying the city? Here’s a thought: buy him a card or dinner instead! 

Lee and Jim interacting once again. Well, that was quick. Always awkward when you keep running into your ex.

Oh! Of course, it would be because of Ed that Jim is alive. Ha! Wonder if he will regret that decision later on.

“Bruce, I am going to be here whenever you need me” Awww that’s so sweet.

 If she wasn’t such an important character, I’d almost think it’s a death foreshadowing.

Ed with the doubting and jealousy. Come on, you knew she was using you. Why are you still on this? 

Okay, I love the idea of Ed helping to solve Jeremiah’s plans...but this isn’t exactly what I had in mind. 

I love seeing Lucius and Harvey working together to save the day. We don’t see enough of their scenes. 

“Lucius, English please” I feel like I hear the “English please” in every show that has to do with technology or science these days :P

Part of me doesn’t believe Jeremiah envies Bruce going through his “one bad day” but another part of me wouldn’t be surprised if he truly does.

No, don’t kill Alfred! That won’t make things better!

I don’t say it enough but great acting with Cameron. I never once ever see Jerome or Jeremiah as “oh that’s just Cameron”. I automatically see them as two separate characters with two separate personalities. Fantastic acting! Why is this cast so gifted? 

Oh my gosh...all of these characters. In the same room. Together. I love it. 

Oswald twirling that trigger is just fabulous. 

Money? Wait, all you want is money? You are all okay with the city being blown to bits? Even Oswald? 

I really hope they are expecting the unexpected here. Babs is right “is that it?” You shouldn’t underestimate. It’s a trap!

Yeah, I wouldn’t have let him walk away if I were you...

Oh okay! So they do want to help save Gotham. Good to know.  

Gee Oswald, say it louder why don’t you...

Plan #2 is a bazooka? Well, now I’m intrigued with a plan #3. 

You know, the more you insist you aren’t insane, the more people suspect you are insane. 

“No! You promised the city 6 hours!” I got to say, I love how Babs has been written and shown these past few episodes. She just seems like she is given so much more depth. I also love that all of the villains are bad but have their own levels/rules of bad. Destroying a city and thousands of people is just too extreme for them.

Jeremiah is one fast runner. Did he ever run track in school?

Scarecrow! I really want to know how he got Jonathan involved with this. Was it the whole “you knew my brother” thing? Or Jonathan just felt like it? 

Ed seems to be the only person so far that doesn’t care if the city turns to rubble. Given his past comments, it doesn’t really surprise me. At the same time, does he not care to save even his friend “through thick and thin”? 

“I’m with Lee now” Oh here we go...

Ugh I’m sorry. I can’t with these scenes. It’s just so cringy. 

I like that Jim uses the word “validate”. It’s such a good word to use for Ed. 

Exactly! No one truly knows Lee the way that they think they do. 

“Oh Jim, she’s with me in every way...” I didn’t need to know this. Somehow, I don’t know if I believe that. But honestly, this is Ed. He could just mean “every way” as “I teach her how to riddle” 

Wow...this whole “ten times the killer” thing. I mean, Jim was a soldier and he has shot a lot of criminals in the past seasons but like...his motives were still somewhat different. I can’t tell if he is just agreeing to the killer thing because he feels guilty about all the deaths that were because of him (more likely) or there was a part of him that knew that him agreeing to Ed’s words was the only way for Ed to finally help him.  

I love when Ed is solving puzzles and being smart, showing off his knowledge. 

“Ed, wait, there’s one thing I can’t figure out” No! Ugh, Ed! Don’t be this stupid. You should be smarter than this! “One? Being a little kind to yourself...” Okay, that helped a little lol He just had to slide a comment like that in there. 

“HARVEY!” It just wouldn’t be a Gotham episode without Oswald yelling. Or dressing amazingly. Or giving expressions that are moods. 

Harvey’s relief to see Jim alive and then the hug. So nice :)

Harvey: we just need to know the locations. Jim: *walks in* I know the locations. Me: Could that be any more conveniently timed? 

Selina and Scarecrow! Interacting! Sweet. 

Foxy being all helpful :) He’s getting some nice screen time this episode.

Oh, this is all toxin then. Is he really even seeing what he thinks he’s seeing?

Oh my gosh...the cutting of the smile. This has to be the toxin, right? This can’t actually be Alfred. 

Selina finding a man in the closet? Must be Alfred. I thought Jeremiah asked them to kill him? 

Selina helping Bruce through it and getting his attention. So intense.

The looks shared between Bruce and Alfred. He’s so relieved! ...What? No hug!? Missed opportunity. Harvey took the hug quota in the episode I guess? Eh, he deserved them though.  

“Lucius, they’re identical...” Harvey’s shaken and upset voice :(

Ooh Jim being savage. 

Eeny meeny...? Really Harvey? lol

YES! HARVEY DID IT! A hero right there. He looks so happy. 

Another failed trigger. Gotham just never wants triggers to work well.

Oh, Jeremiah is pissed. Very intimidating. 

Haha he ran so fast out of there.

I admire that he has so many back up plans. Thinking ahead. 

*burns his followers* “Hmm...well, that’s disappointing” lol

Wait, is that all of your followers? What happened to Ecco?

“Ever since we teamed up, everything has gone to crap” True but it isn’t the finale yet. Oswald tends to get back on top at that point. 

Yeah, I definitely think Oswald hasn’t been forthcoming with this Strange stuff. I sense many ulterior motives. 

Man, I just noticed that Oswald, Ed, and Jeremiah are all being outsmarted and foiled from their plans today. Just can’t catch a break to blackmail or murder. 

Yup, it was also Ed that did that :) When are Jeremiah and Ed going to share a scene, huh? 

Ra’s! I had a hunch. 

“you’re behind me, aren’t you?” So, Jeremiah is familiar with tropes and “scary” movies, I see? 

Jeremiah: no thanks. Ra’s: *mentions Bruce* Jeremiah: Okay! Let’s do this! What are we waiting for? *is already running out the door because it’s apparently his favorite sport*

Ed is going to be creeping and listening-yup. It figures.

Why am I not surprised that Ed is listening to all this? Yeah, I predict he is going to go after Lee, Jim, or both of them now...and fail at it because of plot. Oh, this is not going to end well. 

Okay, this is conflicting. On one hand, I find this whole thing aggravating. I hate that Ed is always involved with love storylines and seemingly acting dumb because of it. I hate that Lee fell into that too. At the same time, in terms of his behavior in this episode, this is such an Ed thing to do in a way. He is insecure and seeks validation. That really fits his character. His paranoia is also understandable. He’s always been that way and made stupid decisions because of it. Like when he was paranoid that Jim was onto his murder of Kristen in S2 and blew it all for himself. So, that part of the storyline actually makes sense, which is why I can see him ruining everything next episode because of that paranoia. At this point, I just hope it gets resolved quickly. 

Awwww! Everyone applauding Harvey! Giving him the appreciation he deserves! I love this so much! It’s about time! 

Lucius and the GCPD joking with him lol

Aww another Harvey hug in an episode. That hug! So touching! I love it!

Are they gonna-yes! They actually kissed this time! 

Well, at least one ship is happy. *Jeremiah shoots Selina* You just can’t let people be happy for more than a few seconds? Can you Gotham? 

Bruce, your security system sucks. If you even have one.

Selina! No! I know you won’t die but still! 

Hey, is that a new hat? Okay, how can Jeremiah have two new hats in one episode and Ed have his bowler hat yet Oswald gets nothing but a hallucination? A travesty. Jeremiah does pull them off though.

I hope Jeremiah gives Oswald his second hat as a way to broker a peace or something. Or Oswald just steals it after firing his machine gun at him, not being able to kill Jeremiah though. 

Jeremiah doesn’t even care that he’s getting beaten up. He’s just like “whatever. I expected this” 

So much silence of sound. The intensity... poor Selina. Poor Bruce, having to deal with another loved one shot in front of him. 

This was seriously the plan? Walk in, shoot Selina, get beat up? Does Ra’s want her hurt so that he can leverage some Lazarus water or something? How does Jeremiah getting arrested fall under this? 

Overall: Great episode. Many of the characters dealing with the same threat, which I love. Everyone banding together against Jeremiah, who I am very much enjoying thus far. I loved seeing the team-ups and interactions. Different changes of pace. Oswald and Butch/Grundy team up with Babs and Tabs to take down Jeremiah. It fails. They decide to go find/threaten Strange to help Grundy. Ed and Jim have a Lee conversation, Ed helps decipher Jeremiah’s plans and then gets knocked out by Jim. Trouble brews with Ed/Lee/Jim. Lucius teams up with Harvey to stop the explosions. Harvey disables it. The GCPD celebrate him. Jeremiah tries to drive Bruce crazy. It fails. Jeremiah burns all his followers. Jeremiah teams up with Ra’s. Bruce and Selina save Alfred. They kiss. Jeremiah shoots Selina in the gut and Alfred starts beating him up. 

Previous Review: 4x20   Next: 4x22

[not-a-space-alien]

Earth Helps Back, Part 7: Memories, Newly Made

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Epilogue

On AO3

Adam’s family still lived in Tadfield, it turned out.  Anathema hadn’t been able to find his old house because he had cloaked it in the same occult protective cloak that he himself was wrapped in, which kept anything supernatural from finding it uninvited—including witches.

Now Anathema had an invitation, however.

Newt chauffeured himself and Anathema to Tadfield in the Wasabi.  Adam was wearing a conical party hat when he answered the door.  He breathlessly explained that his folks were out of the house for the evening on some business or another, and they had it all to themselves to party it up until tomorrow morning.  He waggled his eyebrows as he said this, and hinted that there would be loud music, plenty of alcohol, and drunken shenanigans.

Despite the tall promises, when he showed them into the living room, it contained only the other three members of the Them and a bowl of punch.

“We brought pot roast to liven things up!” said Anathema, holding up her slow cooker.

“And gifts!” said Newt, rattling the packages in his hand.

“Great!” said Adam, beaming. “Where are Aziraphale and Crowley?”

“They, ah,” said Newt, lowering his voice.  “They split yesterday.  Aziraphale said he wanted to go back to his bookshop and check that his books were all right, and Crowley said he should see if any of his plants were still alive.”

“I think they just wanted some time alone,” said Anathema, hefting the crockpot onto the table.  “We offered them a ride, but they turned it down. They both said they were coming, though.”

“All right,” said Adam, taking the gifts.

Anathema had a gift to set up upstairs, and Adam let her do that unhindered.  She came back down to join the game of Cards Against humanity the Them were already engaged in.  Everyone grew slightly more worried as time wore on and nobody else showed up.

“They know how to get here, right?” whispered Newt to Anathema.  “The invitation had directions and everything.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time they had trouble finding the place,” Anathema answered him.  “Oooh, I do hope they come.  Now I’m properly worried.”

The doorbell rang.  Adam leapt to answer it, to reveal Aziraphale standing in the door holding a bottle of wine with a ribbon on it.

Adam pounced on him to claim a hug before he could protest, and when he withdrew, the angel said, “Ahm, I’m afraid I don’t quite remember what sorts constitute good wine, but seeing as how you’re of legal age…”

“This looks great!” said Adam, taking the bottle.  “Thanks!”

He sat down to join them. Anathema was suddenly self-conscious about playing such a vulgar game with an angel.  “Hey, Newt,” she diverted, “hand me Aziraphale’s gift.”

Newt retrieved the package, which was suspiciously book-shaped.  Anathema handed it to Aziraphale.  “I know it’s Adam’s birthday and not yours, but Newt and I got you something anyway.”

Aziraphale opened it carefully, eyes sparkling.  “Why, it’s a book,” he said, sounding so sincere and so overcome with emotion that he seemed on the verge of melting.

“Yeah!” said Anathema.

Aziraphale teared up, holding the book close to his chest.  He hadn’t even read the title.

“Er, do you like that author?” said Newt.

Aziraphale didn’t respond, looking like he didn’t care in the slightest about the actual contents of the book.

Anathema patted his hand. “Well, enjoy it.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Didn’t Crowley come with you?” said Adam.

Aziraphale shook his head. “I took a cab over.”

“Oh.”

Anathema invited him to sit at the table with them.  He did so, and only put his new book down to check his phone when it chirped.

He flipped it open and said Oh in a disappointed way.

“What is it?” said Anathema.

He turned the phone so she could read it.

From:  Crowley

I’m not coming

Newt waited in the car, saying that he didn’t trust the car not to get towed, and parking was a bitch in Mayfair, and any other number of excuses to conceal the fact that he was afraid of talking to Crowley in case he was upset with him in some way.

So Anathema was alone when she walked up to the gates of the building that contained Crowley’s flat. She buzzed the intercom.

“Top floor flat,” said a voice.

“Crowley, it’s me,” she said into the receiver.  “Can I come up?”

The intercom was silent.

“Please?”

The gate buzzed open.

Normally she would have taken the time to admire the architecture—Crowley had obviously picked one of the most expensive and luxurious apartment buildings he could find—but it was dark and Anathema was distracted, so she just hurried into the elevator and made her way to the top of the building.

“Crowley?” she said, knocking on the door.  “It’s Anathema.  Please unlock the door.”

She was afraid it wouldn’t open, but a minute later the door clicked of its own accord, and she cracked it open.  “Crowley?”

The flat was dark inside. Anathema stepped in and shut the door behind her, fumbling for a light switch.  “Crowley?  Where are you, honey?”

A yellow eye opened in the darkness on the other side of the room, predatory pupil dilated on her.

Anathema finally found the switch and flicked the light on, washing the room with harsh white light and revealing that Crowley was sitting on the floor against the opposite wall. Dry pots with dead plants were scattered around him, including one in his lap, and he was clutching a bottle of wine, which looked mostly empty.  His eyes were puffy and tinged with red—or rather, eye, because the right one was still covered with a bandage.

Anathema walked over and crouched down beside him.  He refused to look at her.

“You know,” said Anathema, taking the dead plant off his lap and moving it to the side, “Aziraphale brought wine to share with the entire party.  Seems awfully selfish of you to get an entire bottle for yourself.”

Crowley took another swig from the wine bottle.

“You said you were coming.  What made you change your mind?”

Crowley looked at her blearily. “Because I realised that no mortal would ever have a good reason to want me around.”

He still had the “honourary human” pin on his shoulder, and Anathema took it off and held it in front of his face.

Crowley took another swig of alcohol.

“They gave you an invitation,” said Anathema.  “Clearly they want you there.”

“Like a piece of paper means anything,” Crowley snapped.

Anathema sighed and sat next to him, head against the wall.  “All right. So clearly this isn’t about Them. What’s it about?”

Crowley looked almost shame-faced.

“I won’t tell anyone else.”

“I wish I was as great as Aziraphale seems to think I am.  I’m garbage. Somehow, Aziraphale liking me just makes me feel worse about it.”

“Crowley, you’re not—”

“I wish I was someone worthy of his love.  I almost wish none of you would waste your time on me.”

“Crowley,” said Anathema. “Come on.  You are worth it.  Why would you think otherwise?”

“Why do you care?” said Crowley.  “I mean it.  Why do you care about me?  Why did you put so much effort into helping us?”

“Haven’t I made it clear?”

“We’ve never done anything for you.  We barely know each other.  And you gave us everything.”

“You cared about my planet when no one else in Heaven or Hell would.  It doesn’t seem too much to ask that someone care about you in return.”

Crowley drew his knees up to his chest and leaned his face into them.  Anathema could swear she heard him suppress a sob.

“Crowley, you and Aziraphale are my friends.  That is…if you’ll let me be your friend.  That was the whole point of all of this.”

Crowley lifted his gaze to the opposite wall.  Then, he picked the wine bottle and started downing it again.

“What’s really bothering you?”

Crowley swirled the wine bottle. “When you found me at the club that night, I had been trying to plan some way to escape and help Aziraphale for weeks.  Not just because I missed Aziraphale, but because the guilt of what I was doing was eating away at me.  I decided that night it was either find some way out, or get my hands on some holy water somehow and end it all.  And the escape plan wasn’t working out so well.”

He downed the rest of the bottle.

“Okay,” said Anathema.  “But you’re out of that now, Crowley.  You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Do you know how many divorces I caused?” said Crowley.  “At that club alone.  I was there every Friday night working.  Take a guess. How many divorces?”

“Crowley—”

“A hundred and thirty two. I ruined a hundred and thirty two marriages.  Two-hundred and sixty four people whose lives I ruined.”  He let out a harsh laugh.  “The quota was only a hundred, but I’m just that much of an overachiever.”

The wine bottle magically started refilling itself.  Anathema tried to take it out of his hand.

“What kind of human in their right mind would want my company?” said Crowley, wrestling to keep the wine bottle.  “Who would actually like me, if they knew the whole truth, all the terrible things I’ve done?”

Anathema gave up trying to get the wine bottle off him.  “Crowley—”

“I did more demonic work in these few years after Beelzebub ‘set me straight’ than I have in my entire life up to this point.  Hastur got to decide what I did, and he always gave me the assignments he knew were my least favourite,” said Crowley.  He took three huge gulps of alcohol before continuing, “Take a guess at how many souls I got damned to Hell.  Guess.  Keeping in mind I’m so much of an overachiever.”

“Crowley, don’t do this to yourself.  You didn’t have a choice.”

“I didn’t have a choice!” crowed Crowley, raising the wine bottle up and sloshing alcohol all over himself. “That’s the rallying cry of horrible people everywhere, isn’t it?  No choice! They left us no choice!  I’m sure all the people I hurt would be immensely consoled by the fact that their tormenter chose to save his own arse.”

“That can’t be helped now.”

“I’m a creature designed explicitly for nothing but causing pain,” wept Crowley, “and you have the nerve to tell me there are humans who would want my company.”

Anathema gripped his hand very tightly and knelt in front of him.  With her other hand, she held up one of the withered potted plants.  “Look at this, Crowley.  What is it?”

“It’s a dead plant,” he growled.

“It was something you grew.  It was alive and vibrant because of you.  It only died because someone took you away from it.  Now tell me.  Which do you think is the real you?  Those horrible things you did because someone else made you?”  She put the plant down and brushed her fingers against the bandage on the side of his head.  “Or the gentleness that they had to beat out of you?”

“Yes, I’m sure everyone is so comforted by the idea that the guy who fucked them over is really a nice guy on the inside, once you get to know him. You know, deep down.”

“You don’t think what’s on the inside matters?”

“I think it only matters as far as it affects your interactions with others.”

Anathema patted his hand. “Well, then, maybe it will now that you can express who you are.  Deep down.”

Crowley rolled the wine bottle in his hand.

Anathema sat back and let out a sigh.  She reached over and took the wine bottle to take a swig from it, then passed it back.

“This whole experience was what it took to make me realise,” said Crowley, sounding heavy-hearted, “that the demons who’re sadists and enjoy making others miserable probably became that way as a self-defense mechanism.  I wouldn’t be here, caught red-handed crying over a damn potted plant, if I were more like Beelzebub.”

Anathema crunched some dead leaves with her fingers.  “Can’t you just use a miracle to bring them back to life?”

“A miracle?  That’s not the point.  The point of having a plant isn’t having a plant.  It’s growing a plant.  Some of them I had been growing since the eighties.  It wouldn’t be the same.  They ruined it.  They ruined everything.”

“It’s all right now,” said Anathema soothingly.  “You can start over, you know.  It’s not too late.”

“It won’t be the same.  Nothing will.  They ruined my life.”

“You’re alive.  You’re here.  You have Aziraphale.  Those are all the seeds you need, Crowley.”

“All the seeds, huh?” Crowley lifted the wine bottle and looked at her through it, yellow eye distorted.  “It never gets any easier, you know.”

“What doesn’t?”

“Watching humans like you die. Worrying about Aziraphale.  Being tortured.  Take your pick.  You’d think after six-thousand years, everything would be old hat, but no.”  He drunk from the wine bottle until there was only a mouthful left.  “Not even a stupid party for a teenager.”

“He’s not a teenager, you know.”

Crowley sighed.

Anathema leaned over.  “What did you think Heaven was like?  You thought it was boring, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think Earth was the same way before the fall of man?”

“Do I think it was boring? I guess.”

“So what you’re saying is, without you in the world, it’d be pretty boring, right?  Imagine if it was just Aziraphale, if he had free rein.”

Crowley grimaced.  He was imagining a dreadful, tartan-filled world.

“So what do you think the party is like with just Aziraphale?”

Crowley looked contemplatively at the opposite wall, then slowly bottoms-upped the bottle of wine to finish it, then stood up.  “Suppose I’ve got to save everyone, then.”

Anathema watched as he disappeared into the loo and heard him splashing water on his face.  When he came back out, he was dressed in a crisp new suit.  “All right.  Let’s go.”

Anathema ran out to get back into Newt’s car, warning him that he should get out of the road because Crowley would be along at any moment.  Newt was in the middle of asking why Anathema seemed so alarmed by the prospect when he saw the headlights rapidly approaching in his rear view mirror, accompanied by the distinct rumbling growl of an antique engine accelerating much faster than it was designed to.

Newt pulled off onto the shoulder in time to see the Bentley tear past him at easily three times the speed limit.  Its rear lights disappeared into the night in a matter of seconds.

They didn’t catch up to Crowley until about three-quarters of the way to Tadfield, where they spotted him sitting on the side of the road.  When they pulled beside him with the window rolled down, he sheepishly admitted that he didn’t remember exactly where he was going.

“You made it!” Aziraphale gasped with evident delight when Crowley threw the door open.

“’Course I made it,” Crowley said, plopping down onto the couch and crossing his feet on the ottoman.  “I’m a delight, and it would be cruel to deprive you all of my presence.”

Aziraphale smiled and rubbed Crowley’s arm.

Newt came into the door, breathlessly trying to catch up.  “Crowley!  We have a gift for you too!  We’ve been waiting to give it to you until you got here.”

“For me?”  said Crowley.  “But it’s Adam’s birthday.”

Adam put his arm around Crowley’s shoulders while simultaneously affixing a conical party hat in his dark hair.  “Don’t want anyone to feel left out.”

Newt went over to the pile of gifts and fished one out, a small pot with a stem of green in it. “Tah-dah!’ he said, presenting it to Crowley.  

Crowley took the gift, holding it in his hands delicately.  “Is this…”

“I’ve already forgotten what kind it is,” said Newt apologetically, rubbing the back of his head.  “Sorry.”

“It’s an aloe plant,” said Crowley instantly.

“Oh!  Great for burns then,” said Newt, then trailed off, cringing, trying to decide if it would make it better or worse to continue on I didn’t mean that in the way of the “fires of Hell” thing.  Eventually he settled on, “Do you like it?”

Crowley rotated the small pot in his hand, horrified to find he was struggling not to let his eyes water. “It’s…it’s fine.  Thank you.”

“Have you ever played Cards Against Humanity?” said Aziraphale, tugging on his sleeve.  “It’s delightful.”

Crowley wiped his eyes quickly and put on a smirk.  “Played it?” He snapped his fingers to make an oblong black box appear on the table.  “I have the expansion pack!”

The table was not big enough for all of them, so they sat cross-legged in a circle on the floor, comfortably squished in with each other.  The punch bowl found itself more and more obliged to be filled with increasingly alcoholic beverages as the night wore on.  Spirits rose the further into the game they got.  Pepper was cleaning up, a solid four cards in the lead, but Anathema was not far from catching up.

When someone played the card Flying Sex Snakes, Crowley broke into huge laughs and nudged Aziraphale.  “Hey, that reminds me of that time in South America.  Remember, back in…”

He trailed off as Aziraphale embarrassedly turned his head to the side, sipping punch.

“Sorry,” said Crowley, shuffling his cards, flustered.  “I…I forgot.”

“No, I did,” said Aziraphale.  “I suppose that’s the problem.”

Anathema reached across the table and put her hand on Aziraphale’s.  “I think it’s time.  I have one more gift for you.”

Anathema bade everyone to keep playing without them and led Aziraphale up the stairs.  The boisterous chatter from the party faded as Anathema took him into a bedroom.

The floor had been covered with chalk marks and candles and incense.  Anathema picked her way across the room and stood in the center.  “I’ve prepared a spell for you.”

“For me?” said Aziraphale.  “Whatever for?”

“For regaining memories, lost or never held.  I just need one of your feathers.”

Aziraphale’s face lit up.  He eased his wings into the physical plane and extended one towards her.  “Take whatever you need.”

Anathema plucked one out, then set it in his hand.  “Burn this in the black candle over there, then watch it burn.”

Aziraphale knelt and held the feather over the candle.  It went up with the smell of burning hair.  He plopped it down in the circle and stared it into as it burned.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened, and he went rigid.

“Shocking, isn’t it?  A lot to take in at once.”

“I…I…I—I…”

“Do you remember?”

Aziraphale was still on his hands and knees, and his face dropped towards the floor.  Anathema noted a tear drip onto the chalk lines.  “Yes,” he said softly.  “Yes, I remember.  I remember everything.”

“Good!” said Anathema cheerily. “I knew it would be—Oh!”

This last part came as Aziraphale stood and engulfed her in a hug.  “Thank you,” he whispered into her ear.  “Thank you so much.  I don’t know how I can ever repay you for what you’ve done for us.  Thank you.”

“Er…How about some feathers?”

Aziraphale drew back and looked at her.

“For spellcasting?” said Anathema.

Aziraphale laughed.  “Take as many as you want.”

They came back down the stairs, and Aziraphale’s heart swelled when he looked at Crowley, fully and in a way he hadn’t in years.  “Crowley?”

“Angel!” said Crowley, waving him down.  “Come on!  It’s your turn to judge!”

Aziraphale came to sit in the circle, staring at Crowley with delight, as though just meeting him for the first time.

“It’s your turn,” Crowley repeated.

Aziraphale leaned forwards and put his lips on Crowley’s forehead, caressing him.  Crowley blushed furiously.

“Hello, my dear,” said Aziraphale, voice warbling.  “It’s so good to see you again.”

Crowley smiled faintly.  “Everything all right?  You look like you’re going to cry.”

Aziraphale drew back, then his attention caught on the bandages on Crowley’s face.  He brushed his fingers against them.

“Something wrong?” said Crowley.

Aziraphale slid his finger under the bandage and pulled it off the demon’s face.  A second perfectly round, perfectly yellow eye stared back at him.

Crowley blinked.  “Oh!  Oh-ho, would you look at that?  I hadn’t even noticed.”

Aziraphale took the bloodied bandages off and set them to the side, smiling at Crowley.  Crowley smiled back.

Brian had been in the dining room somewhere, and he came back in now, clapping to get everyone’s attention.  He had a felt bag in his hand.  “Everyone’s back now?  Then all right, everyone, I had to work all night for it, but I thought for an occasion such as this, I should put my graphic design skills to use.”

“He’s taking a class,” Adam whispered to Anathema.

Brian dumped the bag onto the table, and an array of pins spilled out.  “There’s one for each of us!” he said.  “Except Dog. I don’t know how he’d wear a pin. Sorry, Dog.”

Dog woofed.

Anathema picked up one of the pins.  It was a little bronze thing that just said THEM! in bubble letters.

“They’re the Them membership badges,” said Brian, preening.  “They prove that everyone here is a real, genuine member of the Them.”

Anathema smiled.  “Thanks, Brian.  These are great.”

Newt, who seemed to simply love being part of clubs, was already pinning his onto his jacket, which still bore membership pins and medals from the Witchfinder Army.  Anathema affixed hers to her sweater.  Aziraphale and Crowley pinned theirs on each other’s lapels. The four original members of the Them distributed the pins among themselves with much aplomb, as though they had all achieved something very grand and important, congratulating themselves.

While Newt was at his jacket, he slipped his hand into the pocket thereof and felt it brush against a velvet box.

“A-All right, everyone,” said Newt, sounding inordinately nervous to everyone else in the room.  “Since the game is stopped and all, I want to say something too.”

Everyone looked at him expectantly.  He stood frozen with his hand in his jacket.

“Uh, what is it, Newt?” said Anathema.

Newt shook himself and took the ring box out of his jacket pocket, slipping it into his trouser pocket too quickly for anyone else to see it, or at least he hoped.  “Anathema,” he said, walking back over and taking her hands. “These past few years we’ve been living together have been the happiest of my life.  You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and I—I hope that I can be by your side and support you through whatever wacky and weird stuff life decides to hand you f-for many years to come.”

Anathema’s face grew disbelieving as he spoke.

Newt slipped the box out of his pocket. “And—and I guess what I’m trying to say is this.  Anathema Device…”  He opened it and showed her the ring. “Will you do me the incredible honour of marrying me?”

Anathema gave a squeal and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly.  Everyone in the room cheered and clapped.

“Is—Is that a yes?” said Newt, bewildered.  “I—I forgot to get down on one knee!  I can’t believe I—”

Anathema drew back, smiling at him warmly.  “Of course it’s a yes,” said Anathema.  “And don’t worry about your knee.  I don’t want your knee.  I want your love and support.”

Newt smiled through tears. “You’ve already got that.”

She pulled him in for a kiss, to a second round of cheers.

Aziraphale and Crowley sat on the couch in the background as the Them rushed in to crowd around Newt and Anathema, eager to learn about how engagement worked.  Crowley swirled his cup of punch.

“I remember everything, Crowley,” said Aziraphale.

Crowley looked up at him sharply. “You do?”

Aziraphale smiled.  “A gift from Anathema.”

Crowley’s hand snaked over and laid on Aziraphale’s.  Aziraphale took it the rest of the way and lifted it to his lips.  Crowley gulped down more punch.

“I’m very glad we can be here together.”

“Me too.”

“I want to be with you forever.  Even if I hadn’t recovered my memories, I would still want to spend forever with you, making new ones.”

Crowley leaned over, resting his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder.  “Then how fortunate we are that you don’t have to start from scratch, eh, angel?”

“From scratch?”

“Making new memories!  We’d have to do quite a lot to catch up!”  He ran out of punch to sip.  

Aziraphale watched their group of new friends settle back around the game.  “And in terms of making new memories…  This seems like as good of a place to start as any, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Crowley, looking around at everyone in the room who cared about him, filled with warmth. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

『 THE END 』 

Hope you enjoyed! :>  Thought I would post a link to my tip jar, no pressure though ^_^  https://ko-fi.com/A0361U7E 

Also, I was thinking about opening writing commissions :D  Let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in OK? :)  Thanks again for reading I hope you enjoyed.  Please don’t forget to show @nemeankitten some appreciation for this fic too

[moonprincess92]

Continually Unexpected (3/3)

1, 2  Read on AO3 

PART 3: End

Kay had been preparing himself for the day honestly ever since they had gotten back together, yet he found that he was still not even remotely ready for it when it came.

He’d put it out of his mind. Seriously, it was more of an abstract concept that had no meaning really, as Cassian and Jyn spent their time being all wrapped up in each other again. Ever since the award ceremony, they were once again joined at the hip! It was just like old times as she dropped by unannounced, continued to eat Kay’s cereal (scrawling ‘thanks! :)’ on the box every time) and once again finding himself investing in a pair of decent headphones to drown out any noises that may emit from Cassian’s bedroom. No, the idea stayed on a backburner, simmering away but never really coming to the front… until the day that Cassian came home from work with his anxiety levels apparently through the roof and an impulsively bought engagement ring in his pocket.

“Kay… I think I did something stupid today,” he said as a greeting. 

“Do I have to bury a body?” Kay asked, flatly.

“What? No.”

“Because I think we have a shovel in our storage space downstairs and if we’re going to do it, we had been get onto it before the rain comes–”

“While I appreciate your willingness to cover up a murder for me,” Cassian said, shutting the front door behind him and dropping his bag and coat onto the chair in their hallway. “No crime has been committed, except perhaps that I’m convinced someone has stolen my sanity.”

“I see,” Kay put down his phone. “Right, I’m listening. Explain.”

Cassian nodded, abnormally white-faced as he walked further into the lounge. That was odd. Even stranger still was the way he just blurted out the words without so much as a breath, “So I was just walking to the train station after work, when I noticed this jewellery store still open and I swear I only noticed because there were all these sale signs outside of it. Really, you couldn’t not notice! Anyway, there were these rings in the window and they were at a reasonable price and I didn’t even think about it, I just…”

He suddenly shoved his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out the slightly crumpled store gift bag. He reached inside and pulled out the box, which he then handed to Kay. Kay took it with some trepidation, before lifting the lid and seeing the engagement ring that Cassian had chosen.

Blimey. 

“That… is one hell of an impulse buy, Cassian.” 

“AM I INSANE?”

“Oh, definitely,” Kay said, scrutinising the ring. He didn’t know much about gems and precious stones, but considering that Cassian had said he got it on sale, he’d guess that he’d certainly gotten his money’s worth. “Does Jyn even wear rings?”

“Fuck,” Cassian squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t even think of that.”

“When are you going to ask her?” 

“YOU THINK I HAVE A PLAN?” Cassian said, wildly. “Kay, I bought that on a complete whim! Sure, yes, I would marry Jyn in a heartbeat, but we haven’t talked about it at all yet, I don’t even know if she wants to live with me! I really am fucking crazy.”

“Well, maybe you just… hold onto it, then?” Kay suggested.

“What,” Cassian finally came and sat down, flopping with a defeated whoosh next to Kay on the sofa. “just… hide it and never ask her?”

“Well, not never,” Kay snapped the lid closed, handing the ring back to him. “You said you’d like to marry her someday. Maybe just hold onto it until you’re actually ready to ask?”

“Yes,” Cassian said, with the kind of manic look that one might have if they had impulsively bought an engagement ring for their girlfriend. “Yes, that’s a good plan! But you’ll have to hide it for me.”

“ME?” Kay said, affronted.

“I can’t keep it in my room, she’ll find it!” Cassian said. “I don’t know how, but if anyone could, it’s Jyn. And how often does she ever go into your room?”

Kay unfortunately couldn’t argue with that logic.

“Fine. But know that if someone ever accidentally finds it, I’m calling you out.”

“Fair enough.”

Somehow, Kay had found himself at yet another party. How did this keep happening to him?

At least this time it was Cassian’s birthday, so it was for a reason that Kay somewhat cared about. Their flat was overrun with people, their friends and colleagues laughing and chatting over the top 40 music that was blasting from the stereo. Jyn was naturally binging on Mezcal because this was about Cassian, it was a Mezcal night damn it, and Kay had already been forced to intervene and rescue her from plummeting headfirst into the floor several times.

Kay had already drunk his quota of alcohol for the next 10 years of course, so he was happy to stick to his virgin rum and coke. “You realise tha’s jusss coke, righ’?” Jyn had slurred at him at one point, but he digressed. He was able to experience more or less the same taste of a usual rum and coke, only without the side effects of falling down! It was foolproof. Why didn’t everyone do this?

Cassian thankfully wasn’t quite as shit-faced as Jyn currently was, despite the fact that he was now only 2 years away from 30 and that concept did seem a little daunting, even to Kay. He’d been somewhat on edge ever since the whole ‘Ring Incident’ (Kay technically wasn’t allowed to call it that, but how else was he supposed to refer to it?) only tonight he seemed calm. Happy. He was dancing with Jyn in their lounge, his arms tight around her waist and her hands in his hair. It could barely be called dancing, if truth be told, but they were having fun and that was the main thing.

He watched them from across the lounge, the self-appointed DJ of the evening, since apparently no one else had the ability to choose a song that hadn’t been overplayed on the radio yet. Honestly, Kay didn’t think they’d never been this loose before. Before they’d broken up, when they were first together, there had always been a kind of tension to them and they’d always been happy of course, but they’d never looked quite so… free. Jyn’s head turned with the beat, giving Cassian access to her throat and he spent the next several minutes exploring it with his mouth. She laughed, grinding her hips up into his and it turns out that they must have been walking on eggshells the entire time. He’d never seen them this close before.

Not physically close (he’d unfortunately seen a bit too much of THAT before) but emotionally close. Which wasn’t something he’d ever thought Jyn Erso capable of.

He tore his eyes away from them. There was something there that seemed too intimate to witness… that, and by his usual calculations, this was about when tongues would start to become involved, and he had no intentions of seeing that! Shara was there in front of him now, requesting a certain song and he happily allowed himself to get distracted. He played whatever inane pop songs everyone wanted and quite honestly, Kay was able to forget about Cassian and Jyn entirely… right up until he walked in on them in the hallway.

Naturally. 

Still wrapped up in their own world, they thankfully didn’t notice him stumble to a hasty stop. They’d apparently been in the middle of dragging themselves off to Cassian’s room (Kay’s was technically closer, but they would never dare, surely) when they’d apparently gotten side-tracked. He had shoved her up against the wall, Jyn’s legs up around his waist and seemingly permanently attached at the mouth. Kay sighed. Every time! 

He was about to do an about face and walk back off again, however, when he heard his name.

“But I need to talk to Kay first–”

Jyn groaned a little, although it could have been more of a pained whimper. “That’s really not a name I want to hear when making out, Cassian.”

“Sorry,” he murmured against her. “just – this affects him too. I can’t just announce ‘oh by the way, Jyn’s moving in with us’ it doesn’t work that way–”

“True,” Jyn hummed. “it would probably send him into shock.”

“Jynnnn.”

“You’re too nice,” she smirked into his lips.

“We’ve been living together for almost 10 years, it would be the end of an era–”

“It was the end of an era when you first met each other,” Kay helpfully pointed out.

The two of them broke apart, yelping slightly. Jyn almost fell as she was hastily dumped back on her feet and Kay stepped forward, unable to help revealing himself. Cassian clutched at his heart a little, the other arm gripping around Jyn’s waist.

“Where’d you come from?” Cassian asked. “Fuck, Kay, I didn’t mean – I’m so sorry–”

“Stop apologising,” Kay waved away at once. “it is clear that at some point during this party you have decided to move in together, but you do not have to worry. I am completely on board.”

Jyn exchanged a disbelieving glance. “But you hate me.”

“You are mistaken. I only hate you every second day.”

She actually let out of a bark of laughter, burying her nose into Cassian’s shirt for a second. “It’s really ok with you?” Cassian asked, tentatively. “We’re not asking you to move out or anything–”  

“Oh, I understand,” Kay nodded. “Couples live with flatmates all the time, and a third person would help keep the rent down. Really, there are no downsides to this scenario.”

“I’m scared. Why’s he being so reasonable?” Jyn stage hissed at Cassian.

Honestly. The truth of the matter was that they were probably ready to move in together and if it was going to make them happy, then he was willing to go along with it. Less rent was just a bonus. However, that reasoning was incredibly sentimental which he just knew that Jyn would rip him apart for, so in the end he just settled on saying,

“But if I have to catch you guys making out one more time, I’m going to smash something.”

Cassian threw back his head in laughter, although Jyn was already quickly reaching up for him. “Punch a hole in the wall then,” she grinned, before crushing her lips back to his.

Kay rolled his eyes.

Somehow, there ended up being an evening in which Kay and Jyn actually Hung Out.  

It wasn’t exactly by choice. Cassian was busy working a case, and Jyn had been living with them for three weeks now, so an argument over who got to use the T.V. had only eventually been settled when they had decided that watching something together was the only fair solution.

“But just to make it clear,” Kay pointed out from his end of the sofa. “I only agreed to watch something together, I did NOT agree to specifically watch Harry Potter.”

“Do you want to fight me?”

On any other day maybe, but he was tired and his head hurt from dealing with her.

“I don’t understand any of this movie, it makes no sense,” Kay gestured vaguely at the screen, where the children were currently flying around on broomsticks with CGI backgrounds. “They have magic, yet they write with quills? What about electricity? Are you telling me that they live alongside the modern world, yet are less updated than them? What if there was an emergency, an owl isn’t going to deliver something in real time–”

“OH MY GOD, it’s a movie about kid wizards ok?” Jyn burst out. “Don’t overthink it.”

“But. It. Makes. No. Sense.”

“It’s 2017 and you’ve never seen Harry Potter, you don’t get to talk about what makes sense.”

Kay grumbled a little, but otherwise didn’t have an argument for that one. He sat in silence, watching Harry’s broom go haywire. At least the child actors in this movie were decent enough. It was odd that none of this actually felt… well, odd. Despite all of his assurances that he was ok with it, Kay had admittedly kind of dreaded the inevitable move-in day that he’d known was coming. However, in the end Jyn becoming a part of the flat felt… strangely natural. She had been practically living with them anyway so moving in officially really hadn’t made much difference, except that they also got her mail now too and that their rent was of course slightly lower. Sure, there were more frustrating scrambles to get the bathroom first and Jyn always complained that Kay was slowing down the internet with his programming, but at the end of the day, she more or less fit seamlessly into their lives.

(She still stole his cereal, though. It seemed that nothing was going to stop THAT).

As Harry’s adventure continued, Kay made sure to keep providing his always thought-provoking commentary while Jyn consistently threw popcorn at his head. Right when Harry and his friends were running through a poorly constructed set of a forest, however, there was a knock at the door. Kay was more than eager to take a break to go and answer it.

“No, you don’t have to pause!” he called back down the hall. “In fact, please don’t pause it,” he added in a mutter.

He opened the door to find a weary-looking middle-aged man standing out in the hall. Kay narrowed his eyes at his bulky stature, dark hair and heavy eyes. He wasn’t someone he had ever seen before, and Kay said, “Yes, can I help you?”

“Hello. Is Jyn Erso there?”

“Who are you?” Kay stared, but within the next two seconds, he answered his own question. He’d seen the case files often enough to recognise the face. He’d seen him on the news and hell honestly, just from the way the man held himself told Kay everything he needed to know.

Huh. Maybe he was better at reading people than he originally thought.

“You’re her father, aren’t you?” Kay blurted out.

Galen Erso sighed. “I’ve heard that she’s been trying to find me–”

Kay slammed the door right in his face and promptly locked it.

“Kay?” Jyn’s voice echoed from the lounge.

“PLEASE BE AWARE THAT MY FLATMATE IS A POLICE OFFICER,” Kay barked through the door. “I AM CALLING HIM IMMEDIATELY. IF YOU ATTEMPT TO ENTER THE PREMISES I WILL NOT HESITATE TO USE FORCE AGAINST YOU.”

Jyn skidded into the hallway within five seconds.

“What the hell is going on?” she said in alarm.

“Jyn, CALL THE COPS.”

She did without hesitation. Punching the number into her phone, she glared at him and all but demanded, “What is it?”

“Your father is here.”

— 

It was a lot of commotion.

Harry’s adventure was abandoned in favour of their own drama that was unfolding within their very building. Kay wasn’t even sure how the man had gotten inside, but either way Cassian was called, who apparently then brought with him what felt like an entire battalion of cops. Galen Erso was arrested and Jyn had refused to say even one word to him the entire time.

“He faked his death to go and work for a shadow government that was developing illegal drugs and weapons,” Jyn had snapped earlier when Kay had questioned it. “I don’t want to even know him.”

Kay didn’t really understand, as he stood on the front steps of their building, watching Galen get put into the back of the police car. Jyn had spent a good majority of her life thinking he was dead (or maybe hoping he was dead?) and when she’d learned that he was alive, she’d wanted nothing more than to find him. Only now that he had reached out and found her… she was pushing him away.

Kay supposed he didn’t really need to understand, though. Figuring out Jyn Erso was a job best left to Cassian, who had wrapped an arm around her some time ago and had his hand firmly anchored in her hair. He couldn’t see Jyn’s face, but Cassian seemed to be whispering to her and Kay was satisfied knowing that he was there. He would take care of her.

Kay was a little confused, therefore, about how Jyn managed to go from Cassian’s arms to cornering him up on the steps only minutes later.

“So… you won’t hesitate to use force, huh?” she mentioned.

He huffed. “I’ll admit that came out in the moment. I apologise.”

“Don’t,” Jyn’s voice was quiet, but he heard her. He turned to see her with her arms folded tightly across her chest, hair hiding her face. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Well,” Kay spluttered, quite unsure about how to answer. “You’re welcome?”

It seemed that she made a split second decision because suddenly, she was moving forward and wrapping her arms around him. Oh dear lord! Kay quite honestly floundered, because he didn’t do hugs, where was he supposed to put his arms, did she even want him to hug her back? She squeezed tight, almost too tight, but as annoying and grating as she could be sometimes, Kay realised that his earlier statement of it all being ‘in the moment’ wasn’t entirely true. If it meant protecting Jyn Erso… he would always use whatever force necessary.

He never expected this.

He awkwardly patted her on the back. She laughed.

Kay got the phone call at roughly 8pm.

“I was just about to watch Goblet of Fire, this better be important–”

“KAY,” Cassian hissed down the line. “I need you to bring the ring!”

Kay hit pause immediately.

“Is this for real this time?”

Cassian had called with that exact phrase no less than twenty times since he’d actually bought the damn thing half a year ago. Every now and then, he would suddenly decide it was time and Kay would bring it out of its hiding place amongst his socks (he thought it was probably best not to ever inform Jyn of that fact) only to go and find Cassian rocking back and forth on the floor, shaking his head and saying, “Never mind, never mind, maybe next time…”

Apparently, it was next time. AGAIN.

“This is real as fuck, I promise you!” Cassian stage whispered. “How quickly can you get to the park?”

“Maybe twenty minutes, if the traffic is good – but Cassian, I’m not going all the way into town, just for you to back out again.”

“I promise I’m not backing out. THIS IS IT,” He assumed that Jyn was still nearby, since Cassian was still attempting to keep his voice low. “We went to dinner at the same place we went on our first date, and there’s this night market with a bunch of lights and it’s cheesy but she’s happy and I’m happy and I have to marry this girl, SO PLEASE GET HERE–”

“Ok, ok!” Kay heaved himself up off his bed. “But be warned that if you’ve dragged me away from Harry Potter Night for another fake out, then I will be mightily displeased.”

Kay didn’t even know how Cassian ended up giving him directions to where they were. Their city was a big place, and he was left wandering the paths somewhere throughout the park, with nothing but a vague one-sided text conversation as his guide

From: Cassian We’re next to the doutain  *foundtain  *FOUNTAIN  U know in the park go down the path nxt to the pond   Have u found the market??  Just walk right thru  Ashahdfhjdfhj  She keeps asking me who im txtng HRURRY UP  WE’RE @ THE FOUNTAIN WHERE R U  Hold up I see u!!!! dnt move!!!!

Kay glanced up from his phone then, staring around in confusion across the market ‘square’ that was currently being hosted within the park. The ambiance was admittedly romantic, so Kay could at least accept that this was an appropriate time. Lanterns and other fairy lights were strung up through the makeshift streets, setting everything with a multi-coloured glow and he finally saw Jyn not too far away, apparently saving their seats at the edge of a large, ornate fountain. Cassian looked a little crazy-eyed when he hurled up to him from amongst the crowd, but Kay didn’t fault him. This was a big deal.

If he actually did it this time.

“Thank god, where is it?” Cassian asked a little frantically.

Kay pulled the ring from his pocket and handed it over. “I expect this to be beautiful,” he warned. “I’ve been live-tweeting about it ever since you called.”

“KAY.”

“What?” Kay shrugged. “Shara says that if I go viral, I might get on Ellen.”

Cassian just turned and stomped away. As he approached Jyn once more, Kay pulled out his phone and started filming on selfie mode.

“Well, he took the ring… as you can see, target is in sight. Also Ellen, if you’re watching this, my friend Shara loves you.” 

They didn’t end up on Ellen, but she DID retweet his video and apparently that was all it took to go viral these days.

“Guy Livetweets His Best Friend’s Proposal And It’s Hilarious,” Kay read.

“Oh my god, you legit got on fucking Buzzfeed,” Shara snatched the phone right out of his hand.

Apparently, his ‘clinical, deadpan approach’ was a hit with people and the fact that he wasn’t even trying to be funny at all had made it all the more funnier! Kay was kind of in awe over the entire thing – he had gained thousands upon thousands of Twitter followers practically overnight, which was slightly overwhelming when he remembered that he’d had a grand total of 12 before this entire thing had happened. He was getting messages from all sorts of websites asking for comments, but he was content to just keep deleting them. Shara got her shoutout, and Cassian and Jyn were engaged. That was all that mattered to him.

“It gets better,” Jyn called out from the other side of the room, currently sitting snug under Cassian’s arm. “I think you’re a meme now.”

“WHAT?” Shara leapt across the room.

“Show me,” Kay insisted.

They all crowded around Jyn and her phone. She held up just one of what appeared to be many posts, all featuring his screenshotted face with the subtitle target in sight. He watched Jyn scroll through the endless sea of posts.

When u see bae across the room… target in sight.

When it’s nearly the end of the semester… target in sight.

When it’s September 30th… this time he had a pumpkin photoshopped over his head.

“THIS IS INCREDIBLE,” Shara was apparently beside herself.

“Work is actually going to fire me,” Kay noted.

“Hey, it’s not like you ASKED to go viral,” Cassian pointed out. 

Kay literally did not know how to dignify any response, so instead he just walked out of the room amidst peals of laughter from Jyn and Shara. One of these days he needed to get better friends. He decided to leave his phone behind, since every now and then it still pinged with a message or another, even though he had turned off all notifications that he possibly could several days ago and he was already looking through the pantry for something to cook when Cassian joined him.

“Oh, hello,” Kay noted. “Jyn and Shara laughed themselves into comas yet?”

“You’re ok with this, right?”

Kay turned to stare at Cassian. He stood in the middle of their quiet kitchen, barefoot with nerves written all over his face and Kay scoffed incredulously.

“Are you asking for my approval?” he asked.

“I… I don’t know,” Cassian ran a hand restlessly over the back of his neck. “Kay, with everything that’s happened, with it blowing up this big when I know you didn’t mean it to, I guess I just wanted to… to know whether you… we’re ok.”

“Cassian, I am ok.”

“Because it’s been you and me for so long and–”  

“Are you kidding?” Kay asked. “It hasn’t been just me and you for years! Jyn’s your life, Cassian, and that’s fine. I love both of you, I want you to be happy, and no amount of Twitter followers is going to make me change my mind.”

Cassian smiled weakly. “Shit, Kay.”

He winced. “I got emotional… I apologise.”

Cassian swung forward two steps before throwing his arms around him. Kay staggered slightly under the weight, but carefully figured out how to hug him back tightly (he liked to think he was starting to get better at it). He didn’t say anything for a long moment. The only sounds were Jyn and Shara’s voices chatting muffled in the other room, and Kay concentrated on just being there in his best friend’s presence. Friends liked that kind of thing.

“Thank you,” Cassian muttered into his shoulder, voice a little choked.

“It’s fine,” Kay replied.

“I mean it,” Cassian held him tight. “Thank you for being there for her. Thank you for looking out for her, even when she makes you watch stupid movies and steals your food. It means a lot that you care.”

“Hey, Harry Potter isn’t that stupid.”

Cassian laughed. “I love you, Kay.”

And for a moment, Kay did have that slight touch of emotion. A brief second of what if, what if everything did change from here? What if they got married and forgot about him, what if they grew up and they eventually become too different over the years, their lives slowly drifting further and further apart until their only interactions were happy birthday messages on Facebook? Rationally, Kay knew it wouldn’t likely happen, but it only took a second to second guess yourself and Kay let himself have that second to worry.

He clenched his arms tighter.

“I love you too, Cassian.”

Sometimes, Kay looked at Cassian and Jyn and wondered what it felt like.

He was honestly just curious. Back in the early days he’d almost thought that he was jealous of what they felt, certain his interest had to come back to why a love as strong as theirs never seemed to happen for him, but turned out it wasn’t about that at all. He knew now that it just wasn’t something he wanted or needed, but damn it they looked at each other like they each set the world on fire and he needed to know how they could stand it without burning up. Maybe they didn’t, he figured. Maybe they were both like stars, burning bright in this endless universe until eventually they would expand and explode. Become stardust.

Or something (he wasn’t good with analogies).

At one point, he had been resentful. He and Cassian had been doing just fine, he didn’t need this explosion of a girl to come in and shift their entire universe because things were just fine the way they were! But as much as Jyn was a pain in the arse, she hadn’t just changed Cassian’s life. She had significantly tilted Kay’s as well, to the point where he couldn’t even see the horizon anymore and he couldn’t imagine his life without her in it. Something in him still shuddered at the thought of calling her a friend, but he knew that he was willing to die for her if need be, and considering that Cassian was the only other person in the world he was willing to do that for, it said a lot.

Maybe he’d never really understand what it was that drew Cassian and Jyn together. They were certainly enigmas! Either way, he was still proud to be the one who was stepping up to her, offering his arm. 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Kay did at least felt the need to that point out.

Jyn just shot him a look that he might have interpreted as disdainful, if he hadn’t actually known how nervous she was.

“That’s exactly what a girl wants to hear five minutes before her wedding,” she said.

“I just mean–” Kay cut himself off, frustrated. “What if I fall over? What if I say the wrong thing?”

“It’s the bloody 21st century, we’ve been over this, you don’t have to say anything!”

“BUT TRADITION DICTATES–”

“WE’RE NOT ARGUING ABOUT THIS NOW,” Jyn attempted to press warily onto her eyes before remembering the make-up. “Look, just – just walk me down the aisle and get me to Cassian in one piece, ok?”

Kay nodded, perhaps a little frantically. “Ok. Ok.”

“It’s gonna be fine, Kay! Jesus Christ, we should have eloped.”

“I approve whole-heartedly of that plan – we could leave right now and no one would be any of the wiser?”

“Tempting,” Jyn said, dryly. “but I think Cassian might get a little pissed in that scenario.”

“HA, HA,” Kay muttered. The doors opened then, the guests rising to their feet beyond and Shara turned to exchange an excited grin with them before music played and the Maid of Honour started the progression down the aisle. Oh, god!

Jyn suddenly turned to Kay. 

“Thank you,” she said, somehow panicked and earnest all at once. “I know I give you shit all the time but honestly, thank you for agreeing to do this.”

Kay squeezed his elbow around hers. 

“Of course. Do try to not fall over.”

“God, why do I bother?” Jyn muttered. 

Kay almost laughed. “Let’s just get you married.” 

And the two of them stepped out to start what felt like their miles long journey down the aisle. 

- FIN 

[aibrechts]

66 prompt for our precious poker pair?

my dumb ass was counting letters bc my dumb ass theme alphabetises dot points for some reason BUT I GOT THERE IN THE END

66. “How could I ever forget about you?”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xryWmLg6VpY

“What are you doing here?”

The boy’s voice was raw, and passed his surprise off as brusque anger quite well. He kept his face turned away from Tyki though. Cheek pressed to his shoulder, resolutely staring out the window like if he couldn’t see Tyki then Tyki couldn’t see him.

Couldn’t see the broken slump of his shoulders, the pained curve of his back. The way he tucked his arms defensively around his knees. Huddling in on himself, holding himself together because there was no one else to do it for him.

Tyki couldn’t exactly say following you and not have it come across more creepy than it was. He couldn’t exactly say making sure you’re okay and not have it come across more demeaning than it was. 

“You’re crying,” he said instead, and it might have been just as bad but he didn’t want Allen to have to hide from him. He didn’t want Allen to pin his aching eyes on the window pane out of fear of being seen. 

“I’m not,” he insisted, ragged voice as telling as the way he dashed the heel of his hand across his eyes.

“You are,” Tyki said, and took a step closer, then another.

“I’m not,” Allen repeated with a desperate, watery laugh, turning his head further away. Pressing his cheek against his knee, burying his nose into his sleeve. One hand curled into the sheets beside him, the other clutching his legs, and his whole body seemed to curl in on itself, shying away from the hand Tyki lifted above his head as though they were magnets of similar charges.

As though they were the same. 

They were, Tyki knew. Which was why he brought his hand to rest gently on Allen’s head, ruffled his fingers through his hair and gave the boy a long moment to decide what to do about it.

“What are you doing?” he said at length, trying to sound grouchy through the exhausted distress that had drained all his energy. He didn’t try to shake Tyki’s hand off, but he didn’t lift his head any.

“Comforting you,” he answered simply, and ruffled the boy’s light hair again. 

He huffed something sharp and shuddering, halfway between a laugh and a sob, and shook his head disparagingly under Tyki’s hand. “Don’t,” was all he said, no energy for more.

“Mind if I have a seat?” Tyki asked, sitting anyway.

“Don’t,” Allen repeated, a sigh, and unfolded his legs. Made as though to stand up, his face averted so all Tyki could see of him was his red-splotched cheek. 

“Hey,” Tyki reprimanded with a frown, firm, and caught Allen’s shoulder. It was too easy to pull the boy back to sitting on the bed, all the fight gone out of him. “Let me comfort you,” he demanded, and that pulled an unwilling laugh from him.

“Why?” he muttered, scathing, and hooked his heels over the edge of the bedframe, draped his arms over his knees. All folded up on himself. 

Tyki dragged out a sigh. “To help me meet my monthly empathy quota. Gotta keep my reputation of questionable morality, you know,” he mocked, dry, and another laugh fell like a breath past Allen’s lips. 

He dropped his forehead against his knees, face still hidden. “Alright then,” he muttered, probably trying to sound scathing. It just came out strained and sad. “Go ahead.”

Tyki rolled his eyes up to stare a the ceiling and leaned back on a hand, the other hanging loose between his legs. “So,” he said, and wasn’t quite sure where to go from there. “What’s up?”

Allen shook his head against his knees, and Tyki took that to mean just about everything, asshole, so he decided to try again. 

“What happened?” 

“Nothing,” the boy bit out, sharp and bitter and broken. “I’m-” He cut himself off, gritted his teeth, curled his arms tighter around himself. “Just. Mark empathy down in your calendar or something,” he muttered, twisted his head this way and that to wipe his cheeks on his knees. “I’m fine,” he choked, not sounding fine at all, “so you can just. Go.”

“How about,” Tyki said slowly, “I tell you it’s for my own greedy personal reasons. Peace of mind. I’ll be rife with stress until you tell me what’s going on.”

He snorted a dry, hollow laugh against his knees and sniped, “How much peace of mind will it give you, if I tell you I keep thinking how it’d be easier to just throw myself in the river and drown?”

Tyki blinked at him, at his narrow shoulders, the fragile curve of his back. The world really was too heavy for him to hold, wasn’t it. “Not much,” he demurred, “but I’m glad you told me anyway.”

“Why?” Allen demanded again, sour and angry, fingers digging like claws into his knees. 

“Well,” Tyki remarked blandly, “imagine if you hadn’t told anyone. That’s a lot to carry by yourself, don’t you think?”

“I’m still carrying it by myself,” he muttered. “Only now you know I’m carrying it.”

Tyki was silent for a long moment. That was probably true. “Do you want to talk?” he offered, already knowing how it would be received.

Allen huffed a dry, watery laugh. “You gonna fix me, Mikk? You gonna talk to my parents? You know, if you find them, could you give me their address? Cause I’d really like to talk to them myself, thanks.”

Tyki ran a hand down his face, lifted it as though he wanted to place it on Allen’s back, then let it drop back to his lap with a weighty sigh. “What do you want, boy?”

Choked, muffled against his knees between weighty breaths, Allen muttered, “I want to die. I just want all this to stop.”

“Okay,” Tyki said carefully, “so. Considering dying is off the table, what um. What else do you want?”

A deep, shuddering breath. “Please just leave.”

“Please answer the question,” Tyki countered, refusing to move. 

“I just-” he snapped and stopped short, his shoulders curling up near his ears. Quiet - almost too quiet for Tyki to catch - he whispered, “I just want everyone to forget me.”

Tyki breathed a sigh, leaned forwards to prop his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. He turned his head, watched the boy sitting beside him. Gentle certainty in his voice when he said, “I could never forget about you, boy.”

“I want,” he choked, sucking in a breath, “to disappear, I want to start over.” He shook his head against his knees, curled his arms up around his head. “I want to be someone else, but not- become someone else, I want. I wish I was- anyone. Anyone else, so I didn’t have to be. This.” 

Tyki kept quiet for a long time, sat back and reached his hand out. Slow, gentle, barely a touch, he brushed his fingers across Allen’s shoulders, lifted his hand and placed it back on top of the boy’s head. Ruffled his hair a little and murmured, “Hey.” 

Allen lifted his head a little, not quite looking at him, and Tyki hooked his finger around a messy lock of his hair and tucked it behind his ear from where it was clinging to his blotch-red tear-stained cheek. 

“Who are you?” Tyki hummed, quiet and gentle. He saw the boy’s shoulders tense, curling up in defensive confusion, and he asked, “What’s got a pretty young man like you crying like this?”

After a moment, Allen laughed. Ducked his head back to his knees and shook his head, weak and amused through his sadness when he tried to reason, “Not like that.” 

“You’re right,” Tyki agreed simply, because none of it could ever be that easy. History had a way of catching up to you, even if you had no memory of it. So he put his hand on top of Allen’s head and pulled him gently until he let himself fall against Tyki’s shoulder. Tyki pressed his cheek to the top of Allen’s head, and they sat like that when he murmured, “I could never forget you.”

He breathed, slow and measured, the heart in his chest as much a proof of his life as it was of his humanity.

“I couldn’t make myself want to,” he confessed, lips brushing against the down-soft strands of Allen’s hair.

“Why do you care so much?” he mumbled, knees propped up with his heels hooked into the bedframe, his head against Tyki’s chest.

He shrugged, held Allen there like quiet reassurance, and let the boy cry on him while they sat side-by-side on a hotel bed, just the right balance between uncomfortable and comforting. 

Because we’re the same, he thought, but didn’t say it. Because you make me better, he thought, but didn’t say it. Because I know I could help you if you’d let me. Because you saved my life. Because I saved yours.

Because I love you, I love you, I’d love you if only you’d let me.

“I guess,” he murmured, closing his eyes and letting himself love how close they were, if just for a moment, “I just do.”

[neganandblake]

I think I liked you better when you didnt have a knife in your hand, Peaches... Chapter 1 - The cell

When Blake finds herself sold out to the Saviours by her abusive fiancé, she realises that she’s certainly not on her own anymore and finds an unlikely friend in Negan. And Negan does NOT like men who beat their girlfriends, one tiny bit….

Chapter 1 - The cell

WHUMP!

That was the last thing Blake heard.

The rush of air and the sound of a blunt object hitting her over the back of her head.

And then, for what felt like an eternity. there was only darkness.

She was present for all of it….feeling like she was sinking…falling into the endless blackness….almost sure that this was it…that she would wake as one of them…half-conscious but desperate for the taste of blood….of human flesh….

So it came as a surprise to her, when she blinked open her eyes to find that she was still shrouded in darkness….cold and bruised.

Blake gave a groan, scrabbling at the cold concrete floor beneath her, trying to heave herself up into a sitting position, gazing around, through the gloom.

Where was she?

And what had happened?

Where was-

She turned her head at the sudden sound of footsteps, noticing suddenly a crack, beneath, what must have been a large steel door to her left, where a bright shaft of light poured from underneath.

She had been outside the walls to Alexandria when it had happened…foraging for, well, anything…

Times were hard and desperate. If only they could find some fruit, some seeds to plant….a farm nearby maybe? But they had tried all that. Anything to try and fill their quota to the Saviours this month.

While Rick and Michonne were out there trying to find guns, Blake was trying to get by…to not see anyone else killed for the sake of pride.

Her and her team had been picked up seven months ago by Aaron…they had been wandering the woods…hiding out and scavenging for food and sustenance where they could, for what felt like years.

Had it been years? All sense of time had seemed to slip through their fingers. Now it was just them and a sunset….tolling the days.

“David?” she croaked, clutching at her sore ribs as a voice that didn’t sound like hers, escaped her lips.

Where was she? And why was she here alone?

Alive?

She sat up, pushing her long caramel hair from her face, as a shadow of feet and the sound of footsteps once again passed the door.

She had been walking on her own when she had heard the sound of trucks entering the gates of Alexandria. The Saviours most likely. Blake usually kept her head down when the brutish men made their way into their camp, plundering everything they could get their hands on.

But she couldn’t remember what had happened next. Only that sound, and the blackness….

Where was David?

She gave a gulp, her throat feeling dry and sore and slid herself back against the cold bare wall.

She had on just a white t-shirt, tight fitting jeans and boots….but compared to the humid temperature in the sunlight outside, in here in was cold and drafty and damp.

Her hand slipped down to her side where her knife usually sat but it wasn’t there. Blake vaguely remembered having it in her hand when she had been struck, so god knows where it was now.

But before she could think on anything more, the door was wrenched open and a harsh artificial light streamed over her eyes.

Blake squinted, lifting a hand over her face for a second while she adjusted to the light. But she didn’t have time to do anything more, as she felt two pairs of rough hands grab her beneath her arms and pull her to her feet.

She stumbled unsteadily feeling for the first time how sore and bruised she truly was. Had she really fallen that badly?

Then she remembered …

It had been a few days ago now…. another of David’s angry outbursts. She had almost felt it coming….his irritated tone…the scowls over dinner with Tara…like an oncoming storm…

It hadn’t been the first time, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last. But since, well, everything had gone to shit, it was common…people were angry…bitter that this had happened.…and were taking their anger out on those closest to them.

David used to apologise…but these days….the ‘sorrys’ were few and far between.

If she had been talking to anyone else, she’d have told them to run…..to get out….to leave….but they had been together for years before all this had started….and anyway….who else did she have?

Two of the five she had started out with, since arriving in Alexandria, were now dead, so she would stay with David….her fiancé.

Because she was terrified and because she knew there was nothing else. Was having something as horrible as it was, worth it?

And at the end of the day, he loved her….right?

The two men either side of her yanked her forwards painfully.

Blake didn’t recognise them, but could guess from the burly characteristics they both shared, it was likely they only hailed from one group. And that group was the Saviours.

Fuck…

Was that really where she was right now? Their camp?

No, no, no, no, no….

She hadn’t been involved…she had stayed out of Rick’s politics…this had never been her fight!

“Come on, sweetheart,” growled one of them men, as they pushed her down a dingy corridor and through a large set of doors.

In a matter of moments Blake had found herself inside a large hall, surrounded by long canteen-style tables and low industrial lighting.

But she wasn’t alone here….

Blake got given a sharp shove into the centre of a large group of men and women of all shapes and sizes, who merely leered at her menacingly, some of them brandishing weapons of varying degrees of unfriendliness.

She didn’t doubt that the infamous Negan wasn’t part of the crowd too.

But despite the descriptions of him, people banded around camp, Blake had never laid eyes on him. Trying to keep away from the Saviours as much as possible.

She gave an instant gulp, twisting her head around, this way and that, her heart thudding inside her ribcage.

She felt a swell of nausea hovering in her oesophagus.

Was this it?

Was she about to find that her fate was to be the same as Glen or Abraham’s? Two men she had barely met, and yet their demise was the stuff of gruesome legend, still whispered around Alexandria daily.

Blake could feel all eyes on her. Everyone watching her…all of them eerily silent.

As if waiting for something…

But what?

But her questions were almost instantly answered when a figure stepped forwards and causing her to take a step back in fright….

She turned her head and blinked for a second…freezing in place….like a rabbit in the headlights…

“D-David?”

She could barely get out the word.

For there he was her fiancé of three years.

David.

With his sandy hair and piercing blue eyes.

Smiling…

Blake gave another uncontrollable gulp and took a sudden step back.

What was going on?

Why was he here? Why were the Saviours letting him speak like this?

“Hi baby,” he said, his voice steady, and his tone firm. Looking like this was the most natural thing in the world for him.

Blake peered up at him…the man she loved…and yet right now…he looked just like the other men here….he looked at home….

Her green eyes flickered over his features, her eyes filling with worry, her heart still hammering.

She didn’t answer him.

But his smile barely flickered.

And that made her uneasy.

“I’ve made us a deal,” he said after a moment or two had passed, and the people standing all around began to stir. “Negan and the Saviours here have said that they’ll give us sanctuary if we give us some information on Rick…and the rest of his people….. back there in Alexandria.”

Blake felt her heart plummet into her stomach.

Her eyes widened as she stared up at David.

What was he doing?

“Information?” she said almost bitterly, a frown appearing between her brows.

What was his MO right now? He didn’t particularly look scared…scared enough to be trying to think of anything to save their lives. No, he was standing there being allowed to speak. As if they had already accepted him as one of their own.

Blake scowled, breathing hard, her hands balling into fists at her sides.

David stood his ground, giving a small sigh.

“Negan has offered us-” he began, his words slow and patronising.

But Blake was angry.

She wasn’t Rick’s biggest fan, but his people were good and kind and only wanted what was best for one another. Why after they had taken them in…fed them…clothed them… So why would David turn against them like this? Offer up information they didn’t have?!

Neither David nor Blake were involved in Rick’s meetings….neither of them had any more information than the Saviours did.

What kind of game was he playing?

“I don’t give a fuck what Negan has offered us!” Blake snarled furiously.

And with that she took a step forwards, glowering at him.

The woman stood almost nose to nose with him, tall and blonde and angry. She could feel the fire burning inside her…

…More angry than she had felt in a long time….

But she should have known what was coming….she always knew what was coming…..

And before she had time to say anything more, David had struck her sharply across the face with the back of his hand.

Blake gave a small whimper but didn’t scream, instead just doubling over and clutching at her painful cheek, as jeering and laughs were murmured from the crowd of surrounding people.

“You realise they’ve offered us a choice?” said David in incredulous voice, taking a step towards her, causing her to stare up at him darkly….. just as the two men from before grabbed her arms once again, twisting them both up behind her back. “And they don’t do that lightly either. I’ve had to negotiate for this, y'know!”

The men, of course, sensed her hostility and her unwillingness to obey, and so began to pull her backwards, back out of the room once again.

Blake stared up at her fiancé in disbelief, his blue eyes steely, his jaw now set.

“Either we give them the information they need,” David continued, shaking his head. “Or they keep you locked up in that fucking cell until you do.”

Blake paled, her mouth feeling dry.

She had nothing to give to them. No information of any sort.

Even if she lied, they would see through that sooner or later.

She was of no use to them. Why had David even told them she was?!

“There’s also a third choice,” he called after her, just as she was roughly pulled back through the double doors. Losing sight of David and the crowd instantly.

But what Blake hadn’t noticed, was one person watching the commotion from the balcony high above ….

…a man who blinked his chocolate eyes…his lips twitching up into a grin….as he watched Blake get dragged from sight…

…..a man with a baseball bat covered in barbed wire, swinging limply from one hand…

………………………………

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in this. Next chapter coming soon (or you can find meaand the full story on fanfic .net as KittyKatZorse)