#she knows more about me than anyone else in the world

[thoughtfulfiction]

The P Word

Author’s Note: Two fics in two days?

In 2013, Joe sent a dm to a recruiting analyst for scout.com, asking which camps he should attend because he was flying under the national radar.

Most four star recruits get about 20 college offers. He had 12.

At Ohio State he sat on the bench for three years, only gaining attention as a scout team player who would later have to graduate in three years just so he could transfer and get some playing time elsewhere.

That same scout team player would become the best player in college football and a Heisman trophy winner and the number one pick in the 2020 NFL Draft. A few years after that fateful private message to Dave Burk.

Robin Burrow had been there the entire time. Through every shining moment and the times that seemed rather dark. She drove two hours to do his laundry just to make sure he was physically and mentally healthy when he lived in Columbus, has attended every game since he began playing sports, made him snickers salad when he tore his ACL…and when he tore his scapholunate ligament in his wrist. All in all, she’s been a constant presence in the midst of all of the mayhem. To be frank, there’s nowhere else in the world she’d rather be than between him and anything that could possibly serve to harm him or cause him any pain, no matter how old he is.

That included protecting him from himself.

The last few months had been filled with joy. After the news of his engagement, the wedding planning process had been smooth. You and Robin along with your mom, had gone to several appointments together and Joe had even added his input in most of the details without you feeling like you had to twist his arm and force him to participate.

You were now in the home stretch of the most important day of your lives. Less than two months from now you’d be saying “I do” to the love of your life. And Robin had taken her role as future mother in-law very seriously. You knew that Joe was a mama’s boy, his brothers much older than him with their own mom, and it was clear to anyone with eyes that he was Robin’s pride and joy. But not in a creepy way that would get them to star in a TLC show. It was just very evident that she was proud of him and his achievements and that she didn’t mess around when it came down to business.

After one of your dress fittings, she pulled you aside. “There’s one quick thing I need to mention to you. You’ll be getting a formal document in the mail in the next few days. Nothing huge, just a formality that Peter and the team drafted up for you to sign. I hate the word prenup but that’s essentially what this is.” She said in a matter of fact way. “We just need to make sure to dot our i’s and cross our t’s if that makes sense. Get the boring stuff out of the way so that we can focus on showering you and Joey with our love on your special day.”

“No that makes complete sense, just send it over and I’ll sign whatever you need me to. Thank you Robin seriously, for everything. You’ve made planning this entire thing a breeze.”

She shakes her head with a genuine smile, giving you a warm hug. “This has been an honor, I’m so happy for the both of you sweetie. I’ll see you in a few days for brunch at your house? The kids are so excited they won’t stop talking about it.”

“Yes absolutely, I can’t wait either it’s been so long since we’ve gotten both families together it’ll be really fun.”

There weren’t many opportunities for your family to interact with Joe’s and vice versa, unless everyone met at a football game but that wasn’t exactly quality family bonding. That felt more like a collective screaming match where the adults pregamed with beer and the kids wore his jersey. Most of them didn’t really know what was going on in the actual game. So you and Joe were going to host both sets of parents, all of your siblings and their kids in order for everyone to really spend time together before the wedding.

A few days later, you were finalizing the menu with the catering company when Joe came home.

“It’s gonna be like Cheaper by the Dozen in here tomorrow,” he notes, grabbing a Body Armour from the fridge. “Are we sure we’re ready for this?”

“We kinda have to be. Should we do smoked salmon or shrimp crostinis?” You held up one of each and let him examine them. He snagged the salmon one first and took a bite then did the same with the shrimp.

“Definitely the salmon. What time is everyone getting here?” The catering people jot down their last notes and head out the door after you and Joe thanked them.

You could tell he was going to need time to mentally prepare in case he got overstimulated. “They’ll be here at 1pm, so you can probably get an early workout in and take a nap afterwards,” walking over to him on the other side of the counter, holding his face in your hands. “I know you get cranky when you’re tired and Uncle Joe needs to be at his best tomorrow because the kids will need a QB for their flag football game.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, sticking out his lips that are begging to be kissed. You happily grant his wish, pressing your lips against his, giving him a quick smooch. He asks for a few more, about to get lost in a full make out session when a stack of papers on the counter catch his eye. Joe pulls back so abruptly that your face smacks against his chest.

“Sorry baby,” he cradles your head, reaching around you to grab the piece of paper that’s on top. You take that as your cue to go after his second apology for nearly giving you a concussion. That chest is a brick wall.

The more he skims the words, the tighter his grip gets on the little sheet and the confused look on his face deepens. “Um…what is this?”

“What is what?” You give him a look that matches his energy.

He holds up the paper. “This. What is this? Where did you get it from?”

You look around the room to make sure you aren’t getting Punk’d. “Wait—are you being serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking,” it wasn’t a question. He’s legitimately starting to look upset. “Who gave this to you?”

“Joe,” you let out a dry chuckle, “your mom did. Said it was a formality and that I should sign it and give it to her so she can hand it off to Peter so your lawyers can process it.” When your fiancé continues to stand there motionless in the middle of the room, that’s when it hits you. “Did—did you not know about this?”

He usually has something to say about everything, so watching him silently shake his head is a little scary. Joe places the first page of the prenuptial agreement on the table with a heavy sigh, visibly trying to compose himself. The man had the patience of a saint, known to have blow ups on the field but that was Football Joe. Off the field Joe was calm and rarely ever let things get to him. You’d probably only heard him yell twice in the entire time you’ve been together. And now he was dead quiet. You didn’t know what to do with that.

“Joe, your mom is just trying to protect you. Get this out of the way so that we can—”

“Please don’t try to defend her right now,” his tone was laced with venom, a seething anger you hadn’t seen before and weren’t too keen on getting familiar with. “I don’t like that this was just drafted, printed and handed to you without my permission. She and Peter shouldn’t have done that. And my mom definitely shouldn’t have ambushed you with this.”

Now he was being dramatic. “Robin didn’t ambush me! She told me a couple days ago and I thought you knew so I didn’t mention it.”

“I would never do that to you,” he says with a pain in his voice that makes your chest clench. “WE, you and I should be talking about this. Not my mom and Peter. Jesus.” He rested his arms on the counter, running his hands through his hair.

You hated seeing him get worked up like this, crossing the room again to place a comforting hand on his back. “Why don’t you talk to her tomorrow, I’m sure she didn’t mean to upset you. She most likely just thought she would do this for you so you didn’t need to worry about it.”

“That’s the thing, this isn’t something she should be doing for me. We’re getting married. You’re going to be my wife. There’s no reason she needs to be handing you documents on my behalf like you’re some fucking stranger. I don’t care how ‘busy’ I am. You come first.” You can feel the tension in his muscles even when he stands up to his normal height. He’s really trying to keep it together, giving you an empty kiss on the cheek before heading into his office to cool off. An hour later you head up to check on him, assuming he has his headphones on and can’t hear you, you find that the door is locked.

Tomorrow’s brunch is going to be very interesting to say the least.

Joe surprised you by being in bed by the time you came upstairs to get ready to go to sleep. You thought for sure he’d be on a run to clear his mind. As soon as you climbed in next to him he put his phone away, wrapping his arms around you and giving your body a squeeze.

Whatever private meeting he had with himself must have done the trick because he was actually letting you be the big spoon for once. His touch was soft and intentional, the previously icy aura was liquified and only warm and cuddly Joe remained. “Are you okay?” You asked him and he nodded without looking at you. He just interlocked your fingers in his before sitting up.

“Switch me.” You knew the little spoon wouldn’t last long. “That’s better,” he sighs kissing your head, feeling at home with your arm draped across his waist.

After a few seconds of silence he mutters, “I’m so sorry this is happening. Are you sure you want to sign up for a lifetime of this?”

You look up to meet Joe’s gaze to see if he’s trying to be funny. “A lifetime of you? I can’t think of anything I would want more. The rest of it is just extra, the good and the bad. As long as I have you I don’t care.”

His shoulders sag once again in relief, “good.” Joe peppers a few kisses on your neck, making his way up to your jaw, taking his sweet time until he got to your lips. A joyous hum leaves his mouth as the kiss grows deeper, each swipe of his tongue against yours makes you feel dizzy…love drunk. Nothing compares to the way that Joe kisses you, sensually careful but hungry at the same time, almost as if this is the last thing he’ll ever get to do. This kiss is different, it’s a promise to always protect you, to never let the outside noise sway what his heart knows is true. He’s found the one person in the world that consistently makes his heart sing and no one—not even his mom—will have the final say. And he was going to make that very clear.

When Joe sluggishly came down the stairs the next day rubbing his eyes after his nap wearing a hoodie and cargo pants, you were just thankful he wasn’t in sweats.

“Hi there Sleeping Beauty, I’ve already gotten a few texts that most of them are about five minutes out.”

“Great,” he grunts, parking himself on the couch, “I’m starving,” he scoots around trying to subtly adjust himself.

Joe stares at you , running his hand down your thigh. “Hungry…for food right?” You give him a pointed look.

“Yeah, yeah for food. What did you think I meant?” He laughs as he catches the pillow you launch his way and scoot far enough away that he can’t grab you.

“Don’t. Today really needs to be a stress free day. Can you promise you will be nice and not yell at your mother?” And with that statement he is no longer in the mood.

“I will not yell at my mom,” he crosses his arms over his chest with a scowl only like a youngest child could. “Can’t promise I’ll be nice.”

Before you can negotiate any further the doorbell rings and your first guests arrive. Nieces and nephews come running in, suffocating you with hugs and the youngest one tugging at Joe’s legs demanding to be picked up. Less than 30 minutes later the entire backyard is filled with kids playing tag, drinking juice boxes while the adults enjoyed the appetizer spread.

Joe wasn’t making it blatantly obvious that he was mad but he wasn’t exactly hiding it either. He kept the greeting with his parents short, keeping his distance throughout the afternoon focused on entertaining the kids and playing the perfect host.

“I just realized I never asked,” Codie, one of Joe’s sister in laws speaks up. “Where are you two going for your honeymoon?”

“Bora Bora! I can’t wait,” you respond, topping off her wine glass.

His brother Dan’s ears perk up. “We were thinking about going there for an anniversary trip. Are you guys staying in a resort?”

Joe shakes his head, “I got us an underwater bungalow. The view is supposed to be insane.”

“Yeah I bet,” your dad notes.

“Take lots of pictures,” his dad adds in.

He waits for a second taking a mental note of his mom’s silence throughout the conversation, nudging you to make sure that you’re on the same page. By the time everyone was gone you needed something stronger than wine. Robin and your mom insisted on helping you clean up but you let them know that the caterers were coming back to grab everything. As you bid your family goodbye and thanked them for coming, your mom whispered in your ear, letting you know that the man inside was a keeper. You responded by telling her you intended on keeping him.

Once the door was fully closed you could breathe a sigh of relief…until you heard Robin ask Joe what was going on with him.

Here we go.

Joe didn’t respond. He just went up to his office and came right back down with the prenup in hand. “Care to explain?”

“Oh,” she looked rather unfazed, “Peter and I thought that—”

“And that’s where you went wrong,” Joe interrupts, voice surprisingly even. “You and Peter don’t get to ‘think.’ You don’t get to do whatever you ‘think’ I need. You have to ask me.”

You can tell she’s visibly taken aback at how this has gone. “It was not at all my intention to go behind your back. You’re just very busy and now with wedding planning and everything else, it just made sense to get it put into place so you’d have one less thing to worry about.”

“Mom, I get that. But you crossed the line here. I’m an adult who would’ve liked to have a mature conversation with the person I am going to marry about a topic that is extremely uncomfortable for everyone. It is not your job to play the middle man here. There is no middle man. This is between y/n and I.”

The tension in the air was getting a little too thick for your liking. You stood next to Joe, running your hand down his arm trying to diffuse the situation as much as possible. “Okay I think you’ve made your point. Robin, I am not at all upset with you, this can all be resolved rather—”

“I am upset with you mom. There was no reason to hand over that document without at least giving me a phone call,” Joe counters, starting to stand in front of you a bit like he’s physically shielding you from her.

“Now Joey I don’t think your mom meant any harm,” Joe’s dad speaks up seeing his wife almost in tears. “Why don’t we all just take a breather here.”

You nod in agreement.

“I’m so sorry, to both of you. In hindsight that wasn’t the best way to go about it but like you said this is uncomfortable. I thought keeping it casual would remove some of that awkwardness and I just made it worse. I really am sorry.”

Joe still seemed unmoved but you really didn’t think she needed to apologize this much. He just told her he appreciated the sentiments but that she needs to recognize that’s he’s an adult, telling them goodnight and immediately heading upstairs.

You’re left to walk them out alone, giving them both hugs goodbye. “Honey I’m so sorry,” Robin states again, “I never want you to think that I don’t love you or that I was intentionally going behind Joe’s back. I was just making sure we have all of our bases covered so we aren’t sweating the small stuff on your big day. I hope you can forgive me.”

“You’re totally fine, I understand. And I agree. I think he just got a little freaked out at the reminder that his life is abnormal. He wants things to be simple and sometimes they just aren’t. That probably stressed him out a little. Or a lot.”

It feels good to leave their tense interaction with her smiling. Even though it didn’t reach her eyes like usual, it was still a small step forward.

“How can you not be upset about this?” Joe asks after brushing his teeth.

You focused on what was going on at your sink, taking your time to complete your skincare routine. “Because I see where both of you are coming from. You have every right to be angry at her for doing this behind your back. But at the same time I understand why she feels like she should get a jump on protecting your assets.”

“Protect my assets…” he scoffs, “…from you? What’s mine is going to be yours.” He hands you a towel after you wash your face, having memorized the steps at this point.

“Yeah ok, legally. But your accomplishments and accolades are yours. That’s how you got here and your mom saw all the blood, sweat and tears that went into you being in the position you are today. She may have overstepped a little but you’re still her baby at then end of the day and sometimes it’s hard for them to recognize that they have adult children who are fully capable of making their own decisions.” He grabs the moisturizer off the counter and places it in your hand as you laugh, whispering thank you. “My mom has done the same to me, not to this extent obviously because we’re in completely different tax brackets but—they just want to make sure we’re okay no matter what.”

Joe leans against the counter, deep in thought. Growing up with his dad coaching it was usually just the two of them, she drove him to basketball and football practices and tournaments, took him to school and worked the entire day at school and came home still ready to dedicate all of her time to him if he asked. “I was too harsh wasn’t I?”

“A teeny bit? Maybe? I do thoroughly appreciate you looking out for me though. Going to bat for me against your mom of all people.”

He shrugs, giving you a hug from behind, resting his chin on your head. “She protects me so somebody’s gotta protect you. That’s what I’m signing up for and I promise to always take that job very seriously.” I should put that in my vows, he tells himself. He leans over a little more to press a kiss against your temple.

“Is that a promise?”

“That is a promise,” he holds out a pinky, making you gasp as you turn around.

“Isn’t a pinky shake you and Ja’Marr’s thing?”

Joe looks at you sheepishly, smiling so wide his eyes crinkle. “I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

You lock your pinky in his, kissing the smile off of his face.

That night before he went to sleep, he texted his mom telling her that he loved her. You gave them privacy when she came over the next day, smiling and hugging it out so you assumed everything went well. You hoped to have open communication with your kids even as adults one day, but did not envy the journey that your parents were constantly navigating. This once tiny person you created and had to make sure to teach them everything was now not only getting married and had established their own life but in Joe’s case everything was heightened. She’s been there through her son being the overlooked player who Urban Meyer said threw like a girl to now if he so much as has a paper cut an entire city of people, a whole fanbase is worried and asking for minute by minute updates on his condition. You couldn’t imagine the whirlwind that must be.

So you were going to sign that prenup whether Joe liked it or not.

“We need to decide on bridal party gifts,” Joe suggests a week later. “I was thinking about getting the guys customized golf carts. They could be delivered straight to their houses after the wedding or I could have them dropped off the day we get and they can drive around the property whenever they need to get somewhere? What sounds better?”

“It sounds like you’ve had this very specific plan and just couldn’t wait to make your big announcement. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

Joe laughs, grabbing his water. “You can give them all Cartier bracelets, have the wedding date engraved on the inside. That’d be pretty cool.”

Cool and expensive. “Don’t do that, I can actually hear what you’re thinking.” Curse him for knowing you so well. We’re only gonna do this once, might as well do it right. Make it a great experience for everyone we love.”

“Fine. You’re right. But we are not doing an ice sculpture then.” He gives you a blank stare but says nothing, both of you know that it’ll be coming back up sooner rather than later. “There is something else we need to talk about though.”

He rolls his eyes, deciding this is the perfect time to get up and put his plate in the sink, like you can’t just follow him. “We really don’t have to do this.”

“Oh but we do. Joe seriously we’re gonna have to figure this out. It’s important.”

He lets out a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling before putting his eyes back on you. “I’m just uncomfortable with any conversation that plans a breakup. I don’t ever want to breakup.”

“Then let’s not breakup and we won’t even have to worry about any of this. We’ll discuss the details, I’ll sign it and we’ll never talk about it ever again. Deal?”

You place a hand on his cheek and he kisses the inside of your hand before he speaks. “Deal. I can’t wait to marry you. Even got a countdown on my phone.”

“That’s probably the single most adorable thing you’ve ever said.” He pulls his phone out to show you a countdown app with a timer down to the hour the ceremony is supposed to start. A picture from your engagement shoot is set as the background. “I can’t wait either. I love you, so much.”

“I love you more.”

[bgwlsmahf25]

If She Could, She Would

natasha romanoff x reader

warnings: none?

genre: fluff

a/n: tried to stick to canon for this one! hopefully I got it right, just after winter soldier and the beginnings of age of ultron :) let me know if you want part 2!

It was extremely early, far too early to be getting out of bed. Wearily, you stumbled around your room, pulling on your uniform and finding your boots as the alarm kept blaring. Somewhere in the world, the Avengers were wanted in assistance and you were being pulled from sleep to monitor them.

Once you arrived in the corridors outside the science laboratories, you realised how big the situation was. It was chaos, people charging everywhere. Maria stood calmly directing people, a clipboard under one arm and a tablet balanced in her hand. She made eye contact and waved you over. Her hair was in a slicked back bun, yet strands of it were already falling out, framing her face. “Agent y/l/n.”

“Maria. What can I do?” You took a tablet from a passing agent and began swiping through the briefs as they appeared on your screen. Some were already assigned to other SHIELD agents, but most were blank. You watched your colleagues fill in their names on various briefs, taking them as they were directed by Maria and other SHIELD executives.

“For now, traffic monitoring. This place has been chaotic since the helicarriers went down. Romanoff’s been speaking to the Senate, they’re not convinced but we have them where we want them at the moment - in our eyesight. Fury’s dead, Rogers and Wilson are in Europe currently but just informed me they might need to head to Africa on a lead, not sure what is going on there.” You waited patiently, knowing Maria was speaking aloud to sort her thoughts out. “Stand here or go somewhere else with Internet reach, I don’t care where, and continue sending these briefs out. Chase anyone who isn’t assigned to something and give them something to do.”

“What will you do?” you said, already typing.

“I need to find Romanoff. If you see her, send her to me.” You nodded, but Maria was already walking off, speaking to agents as she went.

***

“I left for five minutes,” a strong voice said behind you. You looked around to see Natasha surveying the agents rushing about and the general chaos. “What happened?”

“I…” Then you realised she was teasing. After all, she had been present when Rogers and Wilson departed. “I thought you’d left?”

“I’m not that easy to get rid of.” She nodded at an agent walking by and then looked at you with a firm, level gaze. “Besides, I need to talk to Maria before I disappear.”

“She went that way,” you pointed. “So the rumours are true.”

“What rumours would those be?” Natasha’s expression was unreadable, but you detected a flicker of sadness - no, wistfulness in her gaze.

“That you’re disappearing. Leaving SHIELD as it’s sinking.”

She didn’t reply, just kept on staring at you, and you realised she wasn’t going to answer. Natasha’s non-answers were answers in themselves. She rarely said more than she needed to, but you’d become accustomed to interpreting her body language. “Is that really how you see me?”

“No,” you replied, perhaps too quickly. “I see a woman who needs to step away from the spotlight.”

“Was I ever in it?” The question was more for her benefit rather than yours and you were left pondering your answer as Natasha walked off down the corridor, in search of Maria. You found yourself wondering about the redhead. Where would she go? What would be her mission now, or was she a free agent, able to choose her work as it suited her?

***

“...and I’m telling you, they’re valuable here. I need them where the action is, Natasha, surely you can appreciate the importance of that.”

“I could use their skills and knowledge in the field.” Natasha paused and sucked in a breath. “It would be helpful to have someone with decency towards SHIELD.”

“They have no heart towards SHIELD, they answer to me.”

“And what are you now, Maria? Nick’s gone, Steve and Sam are too, James Barnes is out there somewhere… HYDRA didn’t pack their bags once SHIELD collapsed. You know it and I know it. They’re the real enemy and right now, we’re at our weakest and they’re just gathering strength.”

“And how do you know that?” Maria sighed in frustration. “I don’t doubt your sources, Romanoff, you’ve got a good many of them out there. I just need to know that you’re not retreating forever. We might need your assistance very soon.”

“Then I’ll just have to be quick, won’t I?”

You stepped aside as Natasha left the room. She glanced at you, opened her mouth to say something, then closed it and carried on walking down the corridor, head bowed and obviously deep in thought.

“Agent y/l/n, I know you’re there. Come on in.”

You took a deep breath and stepped into Maria’s office. Well, it used to be her office but as you glanced around, you realised that she was packing her things. “You’re leaving too?” The surprise in your tone was evident.

“Until we find somewhere better to be. I’m not leaving, y/n, I’m just leaving this room.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and typed something out on her tablet. You could see a string of messages coming in and realised that Maria had a life outside SHIELD too. “How much did you hear?”

“Nearly all of it,” you admitted. “Why does Romanoff need me?” You hesitated. “...It was me she talked about, wasn’t it?”

“And this is exactly why I need you here! You’re too damn useful, y/n.” Maria sighed. “SHIELD’s gone and it’s a free world, so I’ll give you the choice. Assist me in relocating and rebuilding SHIELD to a better standard and try not to get further mired down in the political devastation of this whole calamity. Or assist Romanoff with god knows what, though it’s likely to be dangerous and highly secretive, capering about over Europe and Africa and I think she mentioned something about Florida, though I can’t think why.”

“Dangerous and highly secretive sounds interesting and exciting but I’m more concerned with SHIELD rebuilding itself and going after HYDRA,” you admitted. “I’m an agent, but I wouldn’t consider myself a spy quite yet.”

“So you’ll stay?” Maria sounded surprised. “I thought you’d pick Natasha.”

“I’m not one to take sides, but I’m not someone who’ll abandon a sinking ship that easily.”

***

“You’re not who I thought you were.” Natasha eyed you shrewdly. “Staying to support Maria… are you sure you won’t change your mind?”

“I - I need to be here. It feels right,” you said awkwardly. “Maria’s given me control of your incoming traffic though, for decryption.”

“Hmm.” Natasha watched the constant movement of agents and goods around you. She obviously wanted to say more, but instead closed her mouth and shook her head. “Well… I’ll be in touch.”

“I know,” you replied simply. “And if you ever feel like taking a break, I hear Times Square is very nice. I go there on weekends.” You weren’t sure why you were telling Natasha about your favourite spot in the city, but you didn’t regret it.

“Interesting.” She smiled briefly then nodded. “Alright. Time Square. I’ll… consider it.

***

Time passed quickly. SHIELD was rebuilding and HYDRA was coming down, but it was all taking far longer than you or Maria had realised it would. Maria was now concerned with the ever-increasing workload that the SHIELD directorship generated and repeatedly found herself in executive board meetings and exasperating talks with Tony Stark.

The Avengers facility, or the compound as it was more familiarly known, was still under development yet already recognised as the new birthplace of SHIELD. You were slowly training yourself in espionage, still recording and monitoring Natasha’s traffic from her various exotic locales, and always taking a weekend trip to Times Square. A part of you deep down wanted her to show up, to tell you that she needed a break, but you knew she wouldn’t stop until HYDRA was eliminated.

Natasha was working on another mission and any correspondence addressed to ‘My dear friend Andre’ was being immediately sent to Maria without you decrypting it first. You had strong suspicions that before his death, Fury had given further orders to Natasha, and she was carrying them out posthumously according to his instructions.

Bruce Banner the scientist was showing up more and more often now, often deep in conversation with Tony Stark, and also often in the science laboratories at the compound, running various chemical substances and long lines of code, neither of which made any sense to you. Tony was often found talking to Maria as well, broadcasting the value of the Avengers Initiative to anyone who’d listen and slowly increasing his hold in the corporate aspects of SHIELD.

***

Natasha, I wish you were here. Tony is an insufferable bore, constantly talking about his own ideas and plans for SHIELD, and Maria is reaching the end of her tether. I don’t know why I’m talking about him anyway. I miss you

You crossed it out and sighed, crumpling the piece of paper and shredding it into smaller and smaller pieces before depositing them into separate litter bins as you walked through Times Square.

Even at the early hour, the square was busy, filled with tourists chattering and watching the ever-changing displays. You watched a fashion advert about a model you vaguely recognised, your mind a million miles from New York. You were imagining Natasha, crouched in a dark alleyway somewhere in Europe, hot on the heels of a shadowy assassin…

“It’s smaller than I imagined.”

You jumped out of your skin and looked around frantically, only calming down when you spotted the object of your thoughts watching you with an amused expression. Natasha looked healthy but you could see the worry lines on her face and the tiredness in her eyes. Her red hair was short and wavy, tied back in a ponytail and she looked casual in a pair of suit trousers and a leather jacket. You could see the faded red Converse you’d given her several Christmases ago, peeking out from the flared edge of the trousers.

“Your letter was nice,” she continued. “Maybe don’t call Stark a bore, you clearly haven’t talked to him.”

“He called me ‘somewhat pretty,’” you groaned. “The man’s on my blacklist whether he wants to be or not.” You stared at Natasha. “Why are you here? I mean, why now? I’ve been coming for weeks.”

“I know.”

“You know?” You stared at Natasha, realisation flooding your mind. “So you have been here before?! And I got led on a wild goose chase. Gee, thanks,” you muttered bitterly, turning and walking away across the square.

“Y/n, wait.” You stopped but didn’t turn around. “Please don’t leave. I - I needed to see you.”

“Me?” Her words had got your attention, just as she predicted. “Why?”

“You know why.” The fact you knew and she didn’t have to say it sent shivers down your spine. “You never left my thoughts. I kept wondering.”

“You did?” You smiled. Natasha cared for you and you cared for her. Did anything more need to be said?

***

You’d parted easily, and the spy had informed you that she would be back soon, once she’d finished a meeting.

Meanwhile you headed home, immediately suspicious once you found your front door opened far too easily. Had HYDRA found you?

On the table was a book with a red cover and black lettering: As If You Were Beside Me.

Don’t destroy this, I can’t make another. N

You smiled, recognising Natasha’s handwriting and opened the book. “Oh Nat…” She’d made you an album, a rare gesture and sign of weakness from the redhead, filled with plane tickets, movie stubs and photos.

You sat cross legged on your kitchen floor, the book balanced across your lap, and examined each page carefully and for increasing periods of time.

Natasha had documented some of her travels, as if you were there beside her. There were many slightly blurry photos, her camera held at arm’s length, her smile forced in some (she’d taken some pretty bad injuries and beatings and it made you wince).

There were receipts from places she’d eaten, decorated with little smiley faces and other curious doodles.

Finally, at the back of the book, Nat had written a longer message:

You have to know that you mean something to me. If you are half the person I know you to be, then you’ll have already figured that out. I don’t do a lot of things but I would with you. N

You wiped tears from your eyes, a strange deep ache tugging at your heart. Oh how you wished she was beside you right now! But you knew she had to announce her return to Maria and Tony, and she’d join you as soon as she could.

[leftoverghosts]

in the valley of shadow

hades!art x persephone!reader. past art x tashi.

"I'd rather hurt with you than be happy with anyone else."

warnings: dark obsessive art ala hades. use of she/her for reader. no use of y/n. not beta read.

nori says: sfw—i know i said blurbs would be nsfw, but obsessive art takes a lot of me!! crazy to get this same quote for him twice, but i had so much fun!!! as always, xoxo.

word count: 2,000?~

You were twenty three, freshly graduated and just beginning to dip your toes into the world of professional tennis. The bright lights, the buzzing crowds, the endless possibilities—all of it felt like a dream. But among all the faces and all the players, one stood out to you like no other.

Art Donaldson.

Seven years your senior, he was a legend amongst Stanford Alumni and seemed to embody everything you strived to become. His confidence on the court seemed unshakable. Yet, there was something about him that held a shadow, a darkness that made you wonder if there was more beneath that perfection his wife demanded of him.

You first crossed paths with him at a Donaldson Foundation event—an annual gathering where up-and-coming talents like yourself were invited to volunteer with children who had an interest in tennis.

You’d always admired him from afar, reading about his triumphs, watching his old matches, and marveling at how effortlessly he dominated the game. But meeting him face-to-face left you speechless. His gaze was penetrating, as if he could see right through you.

"How’s it feel to be the next big thing?" he asked with a knowing smile, his warm voice enveloping you.

It was a simple question, one you could have easily answered thanks to your media training in college. But as you looked into his eyes, something inside you stirred.

“I’m just starting out. Still have a long way to go,” you gesticulated wildly, trying to appear humble.

He chuckled, a sound that was full of harrowing amusement. “We all start somewhere, but not all of us get to where we want to go.”

You smiled nervously, but the words stuck in your throat. He was magnetic. Something about him made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t felt before.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

From then on, whenever you found yourself in the same vicinity as the Donaldsons, Art would make a point to seek you out. Your discussions were never long, but they always left you feeling exhilarated.

When you won, his compliments were overflowing. But when you lost, his analysis of your gameplay felt like a puzzle, filled with subtle warnings. You told yourself it was just his love for the game and his drive to push those around him to be their best.

It would have been easy to romanticize his intensity, to make excuses for the way his eyes lingered a bit too long or how his questions about your career felt overly personal, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

He was married, you knew that.

Tashi was always by his side, a constant presence that kept him grounded in the public eye. But there were moments when you could see the cracks in their united front. They manifested in the way he looked at you during the press events, or how he’d make a point of saying goodnight to you in crowded rooms when the evening grew late.

You convinced yourself that it was all harmless. That Art saw something in you, as a fan and a mentor of sorts. A fellow athlete who could understand the sacrifices, the pressures of the game.

He had a way of making you feel desired, whether it was a fleeting touch on your arm or a lingering look that made your heart race. You wanted his attention, and he gave it to you. But you were naive enough to believe it was just admiration.

It wasn't until later that you realized Art wasn't someone who admired from afar— he wanted to consume you.

There was a moment—a turning point—that you would look back on, your heart in your throat, wondering what you’d been thinking.

You were alone in a back hallway of a hotel during a tournament. Tashi was elsewhere, surrounded by other players and the media, and Art had found you, waiting for you just outside the elevator.

“I saw you play today,” he said softly, tenderly moving away the hair from your face. He was too close for this to be considered friendly, but you didn’t push at him. “You have something, you know. Something special.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, feeling your cheeks flush under his touch.

"With the right team behind you, you could be more than just a player," he continued, pressing you against the wall as his voice dropped even lower. "You could be everything. Let me help you."

It wasn’t the words that alarmed you. It was the way he said them, as if he had already planned your future for you. The weight of his gaze felt like chains.

“I don't need anyone's help," you blurted out before pausing to think. “I’m doing this on my own.”

Something shifted in Art's expression, for just a moment, he looked almost vulnerable. He wasn't just the fierce and intense athlete you idolized; he was human. “You don’t have to be alone.” He brushed his lips against yours softly, “I can show you how much more you can be. How much more you can have.”

And that was when it hit you—the real reason you were drawn to him. It wasn’t the tennis. It wasn’t the accolades or the fame. It was that, for the first time, someone powerful had noticed you. Someone who could offer you everything— success, the world, and something darker and more alluring than you ever imagined.

But before you could respond, before you could step closer to the edge of that precipice, a voice called from down the hall, pulling you back to reality.

It was Tashi, her tone commanding, and when Art turned to look at her, there was a fleeting trace of annoyance on his face.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he offered you a small, almost sad smile, and then turned to walk away.

You stood there, breathless, heart pounding in your chest.

You had slipped from his grasp. For now.

But you knew that Art was a man who didn’t let go easily.

And sooner or later, he would come for you again.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The locker room was eerily silent, save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead. Another win on the court meant nothing to you, as the weight of failure in your personal life pressed against your bones. Your racket bag sat slumped against the bench, abandoned like a forgotten piece of yourself. You rubbed at your temples, exhaustion and frustration clawing at you in equal measure.

“You played well,” came a voice from the doorway, warm and unmistakable.

Frightened, you looked up.

Art stood there, leaning casually against the inside frame of the only exit. He was dressed impeccably, as always—dark slacks and a perfectly tailored dress shirt you had given him, made him look more like a businessman than a retired athlete. His piercing blue eyes, with that gorgeous speck of brown, were locked onto you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

In one hand, he held a bottle of pomegranate juice— your favorite drink.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice clipped, though you already knew the answer. Art was not one to listen to mortal things like court orders.

“I’m your coach, remember?” he shrugged, stepping inside as the door swung shut behind him. “It’s my job to be here for you.”

You stood up, putting the bench between you and the man who you hoped would soon be your ex-husband. “I told you I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want you anymore.”

If anything, your words seemed to amuse him. “You’re upset,” he said calmly, as though addressing a child. “You’re not thinking clearly. I’ve done everything to help you—your sponsorship, your career, your success. That’s all because of me.”

Your stomach turned, upset that you were unable to deny those words in their entirety. “You manipulated me. You isolated me from everyone who mattered. I didn’t ask for any of this!”

“Those distractions?“ Art’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained steady, one of his eyebrows raised in question. “You think they cared about you the way I do? No one else would go to these lengths for you. No one else could understand you like I do.”

“This isn’t understanding, Art. This is control.”

“Control?” he echoed softly, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. He was a man full of contradictions—each calculated move wrapped in a smile. For every decision made without your knowledge, there had been a kiss or a whisper to try and soothe your apprehension. It had worked before, and there was no reason to believe it wouldn't work now. To him, this was a tantrum that he was tired of waiting for you to finish. “Is that what you think this is? No. This is love. Love that no one else will ever be capable of giving you.”

“I’ve heard this before, Art. You’re hurting me like she hurt you.” You did not have to say Tashi’s name to be understood by him. She had been the one before you, the one who had owned him, in a way that still haunted him, even now. The thought of her, the reminder that Art’s heart had belonged to someone else, made a bitter knot tighten in your chest. It wasn’t just about jealousy—it was about the fear that he would never truly be yours the way he had been hers. “You still think about her,” you accused, your voice trembling with inadequacy.

“It’s not her, it’s you,” he replied, shaking his head. “I’m always thinking of you. I’d rather hurt with you than be happy with anyone else.” You sucked in a breath, upset that his declaration excited you and he knew—he knew the power he held over you, and he would never relinquish it.

He had already decided your fate. He was your captor, and you were his prize.

“I’m leaving,” you said, your voice fearful but resolute. “You can’t stop me.”

Art’s gaze flickered, and for the briefest moment, you thought you saw something crack beneath his calm facade. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by a chilling certainty.

“Try,” he said, his lips curling into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His voice, low and laced with menace, seemed to echo in the space around you. “You don’t understand, do you? This isn’t something you can just walk away from. Not anymore. We’re married.”

The words hit you like a thunderclap, the truth of them shattering the last vestiges of resistance in your chest. Art wasn’t just a man obsessed with you. He was a man willing to destroy everything in his path to keep you by his side. The world you thought you could escape to was gone. You were his wife, bound to him in ways you hadn't yet fully understood until now.

You frozen in place as he took a slow step forward, and watched as his gaze was drawn to the small but noticeable tan left behind by the missing wedding ring on your finger. His brand.

You could sense his anger just by the way his lips slightly parted as he reached for the bottle of juice and unscrewed the cap, taking a slow, deliberate sip before offering it to you. You gaped at the bottle in his hand.

A rush of panic flooded your chest, but before you could speak, Art closed the distance between you. His fingertips brushed against your cheek as he forcefully pulled you towards him, crushing his lips onto yours. The kiss was hard, demanding, as if he were pulling your very soul from your body. His tongue slipped past your lips, and you whimpered, caught in the web of his obsession.

The taste of pomegranate juice lingered on your palate, sweet but tainted, just like everything else Art had ever given you.

He pulled back just enough to whisper, his breath warm against your skin. "We are one. As we were always meant to be."

Your pulse raced, heart pounding, as you tried to regain some semblance of control, but his grip on you was relentless. He wasn’t letting you slip away again, not after everything he’d done to claim you.

And with every second you stood there, you could feel the walls closing in, just like the dark, silent underworld that had already begun to welcome you home.

[theemporium]

dad!nico with baby’s first christmas

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽i have put this in the nico and honey world, but it is nico's first christmas with the twins before he met honey!

series masterlist

.

“You look like you’re about to cry.” 

Nico lifted his head, blinking slowly as it took him a few moments before he realised it was Nina standing at the doorway. “I am not.” 

“I never said it was a bad thing,” Nina assured him as she wandered further into the room, closing the door quietly behind her. “Just pointing out how it is.” 

Nico nodded, turning his gaze back towards the crib. “They were getting a little fussy,” he told her. “I wanted to settle them down before anyone else woke up.” 

“You should go back to sleep too,” Nina commented, coming to stand beside him. “It’s four in the morning.” 

“Can’t,” Nico answered simply. 

Nina shifted her attention away from her brother and instead towards the two sleeping babies. “Their first Christmas,” she whispered with a soft smile on her face. “Your first Christmas as a dad.” 

“I know,” he muttered, sounding a little breathless. “I’m a dad.” 

Nina placed her hand on his back. “How are you feeling?” 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, turning to look at his older sister. The glossy sheen of tears on his eyes were more noticeable now and he didn’t bother trying to hide it from her. “I don’t think it’s really hit me until now.” 

“It’s the same as every other Christmas,” she assured him before her lips twitched upwards. “Just two cute additions.” 

He huffed out a laugh. “They are really cute.” 

“Hischier genes,” Nina said proudly. 

“I know they won’t remember it but I want their first Christmas to be perfect,” Nico confessed, reaching out to gently stroke his thumb against Otto’s cheek. “They deserve a perfect Christmas.”

“We will make it perfect,” Nina assured him, leaning against his shoulder with a smile on her face when she noticed the way Otto turned his head into his father’s touch. “They love you so much.” 

“I love them,” Nico confessed, his voice heavy and thick with more emotions than he could even name. “God, they are so perfect.” 

“Come on,” Nina kept her voice low as she tapped his back. “Let’s get some coffee and then we can wait for the twins and the others to wake up. Get everything ready for the perfect Christmas morning.”

“Thank you,” Nico murmured, because he didn’t know what he would do without his family. Especially the last few months. 

“You have a support system behind you,” Nina reminded him. “Don’t forget that. We love the twins too.”

.

[panlight]

I Gotta say Stephenie Meyer isn't the best writer but,"happiness and misery in the world? Was my joy overthrowing the balance? Was four months all I could have?" is a raw ass paragraph

There are some passages that are genuinely really, really good. There are some lines that are actually very funny or profound! Sometimes she's really on her game.

And then other times it's: Aro laughed. "Ha ha ha," he giggled. Or the (unpopular opinion) really clunky title drop in Midnight Sun. I get what she was doing there! Just think it could be done better!

Was this the limit, then? I’d had more happiness than most people ever experienced. Was there some natural law that demanded equal shares of happiness and misery in the world? Was my joy overthrowing the balance? Was four months all I could have?

It goes pretty hard! There's still an element of 'show' vs 'tell' here, with Bella just telling us how deleriously happy she is, but this is partly because for the first time in the series really SM does a jump of a few months (that aren't just the names of the months on a page) so we're getting stuff about how there isn't enough time in the day to get her fill of adoring Renesmee, not enough time at night to get her fill of adoring her husband, etc, rather than a series of vignettes about what they are doing together so much. But the underlying sentiment of "I've used up the allotted happiness available and now it all must end after only four months" does make you stop.

One I genuinely like is the 'time passes' bit in New Moon. EXCEPT for the "even for me" she adds at the end. I think it would be so much better without that. Because Bella is describing a universal thing that most people experience at some point in their life when they are struggling or suffering. But then throws in that "even for me" like what she's going through is worse than anything anyone else has ever suffered and maybe that's a Very Teenager thing to do, but I was like, oh honey no. The passage was better without it.

Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.

I think something like, "I know that now" or "Trust me, I know" or whatever might even be better here if we really have to make it about her. Participate in the universal experience rather than elevate herself and her own suffering above it. Again, it's teenager-ish. I get it. But she's also supposed to be ~mature and ~unselfish and I just think the passage is stronger with this bit left unsaid. We already know she's Going Through It.

[burningcheese-merchant]

PLEASE MERCHANT LISTEN TO ME

I started watching Burning Spice Cookie's flashback in the game and suddenly I started thinking "is that all? How stupid" because there are characters older than him and who apparently haven't had this problem of "boredom from "same old thing" so he leaves the Burning Spice Cookie thing as childish. but then I started thinking, what if I developed this? You see, if a person doesn't have a proper childhood they can develop psychopathic traits (more or less what I've seen in Burning Spice Cookie) so what if he and the other Beasts didn't have childhoods? We are not given any clue that they have grown, which gives us to understand that they appeared among the common cookies as adults.

Imagine that you barely have time to know your own name and suddenly you are thrown into... (I don't know, a battle?) expecting you to help calm everything down. What if, as soon as Burning Spice Cookie was born, he began to be burdened with many responsibilities and having to fight to unify Beast-Yeast into one nation? It would be a good reason why he "got bored" with everything, since some psychopaths have that trait of enjoying causing harm or hating monotony and social rules (it could also be an explanation for your au's Burning Spice Cookie).

I am SO glad someone else sees the problem with Burning Spice's "boredom". We have a million immortal characters in this universe and not a single one has had this issue with their lives. The Ancients live forever thanks to the Soul Jam, and they don't seem bothered by it at all (hell, look at Golden Cheese. She is actively pursuing immortality, for herself and especially for her loved ones). The Elementals are immortal, and they have zero complaints about it. Millennial Tree and Sugar Swan are older than the world itself, do you see them crying about it? Nope. They live and carry out their duties happily. You don't even see this with the ones that actually WERE mortal once. Fire Spirit? He loves who he is now, he's said so out loud in cutscenes in Ovenbreak. Sherbet? Though he misses being with Cotton, he otherwise loves being free to travel and see the world almost entirely unburdened, the way he always dreamed. Frost Queen? She adopted her role and upholds the balance of nature with grace. Life and immortality are only what YOU make of them. The Beasts are a bunch of stupid, selfish babies. The end.

"Not having a childhood" IS an interesting point to raise, though. You're absolutely right: having a tumultuous youth can and often does lead to psychological issues of all kinds, big and small ask me how I know lol. And for all we really know, they WERE born adults right from the jump. How Cookies are born and how they age are SUPER weird in this series and neither is ever explained properly besides "baked in oven", so... What's keeping anyone from imagining characters just born fully grown right away?

With this in mind, and with the points you've raised, we can maybe look at the Beasts like this: people who were brought into the world without being asked (although no one is), and burdened with nigh-impossible responsibility right away. Immediately told to sacrifice themselves for people they do not know or care about, who do not know them or care about them. To uphold a balance they may not understand, nor did they create themselves. Never having been allowed the chance to live and grow as all sapient beings are entitled to; to go out and have fun and be foolish and make mistakes that they end up learning from. They were born abnormal, and they never never allowed to escape that abnormality once. They live only for others, never for themselves, not even for small things. One has to wonder if they even counted as people at all in the eyes of those they fought for, or if they were just archetypes whose faces and actions were used to placate and justify whatever anyone wanted them to.

... Yeah, that sounds pretty shitty when you put it that way lol. It just goes to show how the Ancients are the true rightful owners of the Soul Jam, in my opinion. They EARNED that power, it was not given to them on a silver platter. They were able to live life as regular mortals for a while, then actively sought out that power and proved themselves worthy of it. Hollyberry united an entire region of warring houses. Dark Cacao tamed dragons and brought peace to a long-devastated land. Pure Vanilla endured the many arduous trials of the Sugar-Free Road in pursuit of truth and enlightenment. These are all things that require hard work, dedication, humility, and a certain wisdom that you gain from experiencing life in general. Wisdom that the Beasts may or may not have possessed, because they may or may not have ever been able to attain it in the first place.

As for my Yandere AU Spice... Yandere Spice is well and truly a psychopath (all the Yandere Beasts are). It's the thing you see often with actual stalkers: he's more in love with the IDEA of Golden Cheese than the woman herself, as she actually exists. It's all about what HE wants, what HE needs, what HE expects from her. Pure, utter selfishness, projection and delusion, as psychopaths are fundamentally incapable of empathizing with others (that's what marks them as psychopaths in the first place). With the Accidental Yandere Golden Cheese one, he's the same, but A) leaning a bit more into his bloodlust/enjoyment of harming others (which is also common in psychopaths, like you said), and B) him actually being clever/manipulative enough (at least to some degree) to know how to play into Golden's wants and feed her ego in order to sway her (Golden in this AU is also just kind of a fucked up person on her own, independent of Spice, so it's an unlucky combination). She's not "boring" like everything and everyone else is. She captivates him, she surprises him, she keeps him on his toes. He "loves" her. Therefore, he owns her and vice versa, and he will do whatever it takes to have her all to himself, up to and including hurting and killing innocents (it's not like they mattered, anyway). What caused him to be this way ultimately does not matter; maybe it's that overwhelming burden of responsibility and lack of a choice or a chance to live life that we addressed earlier. Perhaps he was just born broken. Whatever it is, he's a bloodthirsty, selfish, uncaring monster and it is Golden Cheese that he has chosen to make pay for it, unfortunately.

TL;DR Not liking immortality is a skill issue. The Beasts are dumb little crybabies. Yandere Spice is disgusting and should face a wall. I like writing deranged people far too much. I enjoy engaging in meaningful conversation with others about things. Thank you for the ask, I vibe with your thoughts and ideas, I hope you find lots of money on the ground today

[mumms-the-word]

I think that we can also see how Mythal changed Flemeth. Like looking at Morrigan and Flemeth - (forgive me if I'm wrong, but from what I remember of the games...) Flemeth was so obsessed in turning her daughter into a perfect receptacle for Mythal. Like Morrigan makes no mention of passing this on to her own kid/anyone else from what I remember. Morrigan comes to understand the burden but maybe Flemeth didn't have a choice and someone groomed her into accepting Mythal like she tried Morrigan.

Idk just thoughts but please expand on yours!

Ooohhh buddy do I have thoughts, and I should probably collect them a singular post or something but for now I’ll say that while, yes, Flemeth raised Morrigan to be the next vessel for Mythal (and yes we know she was abusive and weird about it), we also know that Flemeth herself says “a soul is not forced upon the unwilling” in DAI

And I think about that a lot

Morrigan fears very little in this world except for two things: losing her son and losing her autonomy (and since having a son is conditional, her fear of losing autonomy or her identity is her core fear)

When the memories of Flemythal come to her (as she explains in DATV) they explain everything in full and then give her a choice. She doesn’t have to receive Mythal, but if she does, she preserves a part of the old magic, the old lore, and has access to untold depths of knowledge. But she hesitates, because she doesn’t know if it will completely overwrite her and make her lose herself. And, she says, she realizes that doing so means that her mother, who has been quietly observing her, will never see her again. And she mourns that, you can hear the heartbreak in her voice

(I really need to do a deep dive in Morrigan’s dialogue in DATV about this because it is so rich and full of little hints about the complex relationship she and Flemeth have)

All that said! Just as Morrigan had a choice to accept or reject the memories of Mythal, Flemeth also had a choice. I’m talking the OG Flemeth, Flemeth who was once caught in a feud between her lovers/husbands centuries ago and who was betrayed by them. Flemeth who cried out for vengeance and the spirit of Mythal answered. Mythal didn’t just take over like a demon, they bonded because of their mutual desire for vengeance after betrayal. We know Flemeth became an abomination by accepting the spirit form of Mythal into her body, but also…if the spirit you are carrying in your body is one of the Evanuris…

Well it’s no surprise that it makes Flemeth a different kind of abomination than Anders, Wynne, or Lucanis.

Somewhere in that relationship Flemeth agrees to sustain her life in order to sustain Mythal’s. That’s why she has her daughters, and raises them to become powerful mages, and then takes over their bodies. But from the sound of it, it sounds like eventually every daughter gets the full story and a choice—accept the memories of Flemeth and Mythal and become the next Flemeth.

I guess the more interesting question is, is Morrigan’s mother THE Flemeth of centuries ago…or is she just the latest generation, someone who was given a different name at birth, like Morrigan was, but chose to keep and continue Flemeth’s name and think of herself as Flemeth? In other words, does she willingly give up her born identity to continue the name and legacy of Flemeth, as well as Mythal?

This is why I think Morrigan is a cycle-breaker even though she accepts Flemythal’s memories. If every other Flemeth in history chose to keep being Flemeth, while Morrigan chooses to remain Morrigan…she’s always been interested in the great changes of the world. This is another great change in the legacy of Flemeth and Mythal.

I joke that Morrigan becomes Flemorrithal but that’s not really true, at least not right now. She bears “many appellations” as she says, but she introduces herself as Morrigan for her preferred name. Maybe in one hundred years when everyone has died or forgotten her she’ll pick up the Flemeth title again, but for now…she’s still Morrigan. Just with extra memories.

But, ah, listen to me ramble. There’s so much to pick through when it comes to Flemeth/Mythal/Morrigan lore and their relationships with each other. It really is hard to sort my thoughts into anything that makes sense sometimes haha

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

In Titan Arcology, Spike Fruit Eats You

A @d2artevents Dawning gift for @scruffynerfherder17 featuring her OC Cloud!

"Hey, uh, I might be looking for someone to watch my back one of these days. To bring some major heat to a gunfight. You for hire?"

The Drifter hires Cloud to assist him in a top secret fruity extraction.

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read it there

"Hey hey!" the Drifter's coin made a loud 'ding' as he bounced it off the floor and caught it. "Cloud, right?"

"Yes," the purple-eyed Exo answered, folding his arms. The Drifter was clearly not who he was expecting to be meeting in the warehouse he'd been sent to.

"Little sister Eido told me her little sister Whisp said that you were lookin' for work. I got an easy one for ya, if you have the time. Sketchy area, but it should be one-and-done without too much fuss. You in?"

Cloud sighed. Everything in him told him to walk away. The Drifter was not known for his charity. But, then again, Cloud knew from Wisp's experiences that the scruffy man was sometimes weirdly charitable. And one thing he was known for was paying well.

"Let me guess." Cloud asked. "You want me to steal something?"

The Drifter laughed. "Nah. This is all above board."

"Riiiight." Nothing about the Drifter was ever above board.

"Totally legit. Sloane gave me a permit. But, it is in the Arcology on Titan. So, while I got a route planned out, it could get dicey. Arcology's never been the safest place, even before Xivu Arath filled it up with Wrathborn and Taken. Hence why I want some extra heat along with me, just in case."

"You're going yourself? Why not ask the Vanguard for help, officially, if this is so legitimate?"

"This is what you'd call a personal matter. It ain't exactly the sort of thing the Vanguard would prioritize, and I do want this kept quiet and not spread around, so there's extra glimmer in it for your… what's those words she likes so much? Tact? Discretion? Somethin' like that. Silence, basically."

The Drifter leaned against a shipping crate. A sunbeam shone through a cracked window in the wall beside them, glinting against his tumbling coin as he continued. "You help me get my thing and keep your mouth shut, and you can have your pick of my gear and a very, very healthy pile of glimmer. If not, I'll find someone else, but you're A, one of my regulars and B, anyone little sister recommends gets my attention. Plus Eris says you're solid and Crabcakes thinks the world of you."

Cloud's eyes flashed at the Drifter's irreverent nickname for Eido but it was one Eido herself said she did not mind, even when it had been explained to her.

"Ya know," he added. "She tried to get me to let your kid to come along, but the whole point in bringin' you is in case we do get shot at. So I said thanks, but no thanks. Kids stay home on this one."

Cloud's eyes narrowed. "Good," he growled.

The Drifter had turned down Whisp's help. Was he claiming he'd done Cloud a favour? Or was it a threat to accept Whisp's help if he declined?

Drifter nodded at Cloud with a toothy smile.

Winters appeared at Cloud's shoulder. The ghost clicked his flaps in agitation and flew between the two Lightbearers. "What's on Titan that the Vanguard doesn't care about but you do?"

Drifter licked his lips and bounced his coin off of a nearby crate, the floor, another crate, and caught it. "First you tell me whether or not you're in," he addressed the ghost. Then he turned to look back at Cloud. "Once you're in, I'll tell ya what we're after."

At that, the Drifter reached down to the floor behind the crate he was leaning against. Cloud tensed and then relaxed as the rogue Lightbearer plunked a metal box on the table and, with a flick of his wrist, flipped the lid open.

More glittering cubes of glimmer glinted in the sunlight back at Cloud than he'd amassed in several months of work for the Vanguard.

Winters hovered over the box, looking at the gleaming cubes, widened his shell a bit, and looked back at Cloud.

"Money doesn't fix everything," the Drifter continued. "But it sure can solve a lot of problems. I want this quick and quiet and, hopefully, undetected. But, if we are detected, I like breathin' brother, so you're my backup in the very small chance this simple expedition goes completely whackadoo."

It was a lot of glimmer.

Cloud shifted, unfolding his arms. "You're expecting trouble."

"I told you where we're goin'."

"This doesn't seem like you," Cloud countered, trying to find the catch.

"Yeah, well, people change and… I uh… may have promised someone I'd be a bit more careful goin' forward," the Drifter rolled his eyes at the word "careful."

"Specially when it is all above board like this and there's no need to make sure there's no witnesses," the Gambit announcer continued with a wink. "Plus, I ain't hurtin' for glimmer and you got people that need lookin' after. Heard someone may have let their mouth run off and now you might not have access to the work you're used to. Not my business, but if you're willin' to keep your mouth shut and guard my back, I'm happy to make sure you get paid, and I do value my back pretty highly. I've seen how good you are in Gambit, I know you'll do fine. So… are you in on this with me or not?"

Winters turned and looked back at his guardian, waiting to see what Cloud would say.

It was a lot of glimmer. He didn't trust the Drifter, but at the same time, that much glimmer would genuinely help.

"Fine," the purple-eyed Exo said. "I'm in."

"All right, all right, all right." The Drifter pulled out a data pad and began tapping on it. A schematic projected out into the air between them. Blue-green lines glowed in a 3D map of the Arcology.

"I want a plant," the Drifter began. "A specific plant. I want seeds. I want two whole plants with their roots (and I'll be honest with ya brother, I'm not sure that one's possible but there's extra pay if do we pull that off). And, most importantly, I need at least one whole fruit."

"A fruit?" Winters asked, his shell spinning slowly. "You're paying this much for a fruit?"

"Yeah," the Drifter grinned at the incredulous ghost.

"What fruit?" Cloud asked.

The Drifter's eyes glittered. "A pine apple."

'What the hell is a pineapple?" Cloud stepped forward to get a closer look at the Drifter's Arcology schematic. It was very accurate.

"I'll be honest with ya, brother, I have no idea, but we're gonna find out."

Winters and Cloud looked at each other briefly before returning to examine the projection.

"Sloane ain't got no pictures but, before everything went to hell in the collapse, the Arcology greenhouses were exceptionally well labeled and some of those records survived," the Drifter explained. "They're just… not the ones that tell us what the hell these plants look like. But I do know exactly where they are." He pointed to a spot on the projection that had a small green dot.

"How do you know they're not destroyed?" Winters asked, floating to examine the projection at a different angle.

"Because someone, at some point, got some seeds for one and brought 'em to Eris on Io not too long ago. An' that was just a little bit before Io disappeared. They're there in the Arcology all right. It's just a matter of gettin' in to get 'em."

"Ok," Cloud said quietly, memorizing the route the Drifter had mapped out.

"Oh and another thing. We already talked about you not talkin', but add in an extra special layer of not talkin' about this to ol' Three-Eyes. Don't wanna ruin the surprise."

"Surprise?" Cloud asked. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Don't you worry about that, brother. Just get me my fruit and I'll make you rich. Now, Sloane ain't been able to get a patrol to run through there for quite some time, and Thunderguns will appreciate any intel we can get her while we're in there. You feel free to give that to her when we're done an' she'll probably pay you for it too, just leave out what we're after."

The glow from Cloud's purple eyes narrowed. "I thought you said she gave you a permit."

"She did. This uh.. just ain't exactly what the permit is for."

Cloud shook his head. "I'm not crossing Sloane."

"There is no crossing anyone here. This is totally legit. We got permission for a bit of salvage just like I used to do. It's just that… unlike my usual, the Golden Age tech we're salvagin' this time is of the… biological kind."

"This is too much money for just a fruit." Winters countered.

"Damn straight," the Drifter answered. "That's cuz this is for fruit and silence and watchin' my back. And it's a very special fruit. Most people ain't heard of it. Almost mythical. But it ain't. It exists. And ol'Drifter's gonna get some."

"You have some sort of fruit obsessed buyer?" Cloud asked.

"Nope. Personal use," the Drifter grinned and licked his lips as though he were holding back laughter at a joke only he knew the punchline to.

"Never thought you'd be the type of person to overpay for fruit." Cloud said quietly.

"And you should stop thinkin' about it, because once this is over you're bein paid to forget you ever heard of it, am I right?"

Cloud nodded. "Ok, I guess."

"Now, we're goin' in here," the Drifter pointed at the map. "I'll get us there without bein' noticed, that's not a problem. Transmat in will be one-way. I got the Derelict zoned in on a transmat beacon we'll carry with us and set up. We get back to that spot and activate it when we want out."

"Why not take the beacon with us and just leave when we find what we're looking for?" Cloud asked.

"That would be so much easier, you're right, but there's too much stuff in the way. Can't get a signal in there. I tried. If I could set us down inside the room we need to get to, I wouldn't need you, hotshot. This is as close as we can get."

Cloud nodded in understanding.

"We'll leave the beacon at the drop point," Drifter continued. "Then we'll need to make our way through these three sections. First one is a big open area but it'd be hard to fill that with hostiles without bein' obvious and the remote scans I could get look pretty clean. Should be pretty quiet. This middle area is where it might get a bit dicey. A while back, there was a lot of Savathun's Hive camped out there, but ever since she got all glowy with the Light her brood either joined her or were left on their own to do… whatever the hell Hive do in that situation. I don't know genocidal space bug politics. Chances are they ain't there no more, but if they aint, somethin' else might've moved in."

…

Something else had indeed moved in.

Cloud and the Drifter both crouched together behind a large stone and metal reinforced wall in the Arcology as a Taken Ogre's Rotten Surge repeatedly hit the other side.

"Can you control it like the ones in Gambit?" Cloud asked.

"Nope!" the Drifter said cheerily as he reloaded his hand cannon, Trust.

Cloud's head turned to the side and he shot a Taken Thrall over the Drifter's shoulder.

The rogue Lightbearer grinned at him. "I knew bringin' you was a good idea."

Cloud nodded and shot another Thrall.

"Ok here's how this is gonna go," the Drifter said, peeking out from behind the wall and ducking back as the Rotten Surge hit the barrier again. "I'm gonna skitter around back behind it, and you're gonna keep its attention over here."

"You need me to be bait," Cloud said, dryly.

"You catch on quick." The Drifter's eyes glittered with amusement.

Cloud sighed deeply and checked around his side of the wall, ducking back before the Ogre's eye beam could rip him apart with Arc energy.

"This thing's big enough to be a Primeval in Gambit," the Drifter continued, "but I've seen you take those down, no issue."

"Gambit has four players." Cloud retorted.

"Treat it like when two people drop." The Drifter clasped Cloud's shoulder briefly and winked at him before tumbling to the side, coming to his feet and running between different bits of cover.

Cloud sighed again and brought his Dead Man's Tale scout rifle up, sniping several precision shots at the Ogre. It immediately retrained its eye on him and began blasting the wall Cloud ducked behind once more.

Sniping and ducking, Cloud kept the Ogre's attention and watched as the Drifter skillfully tumbled and skittered between bits of cover until he was nearly behind the Taken monstrosity.

Then there was a Taken Knight. The Drifter's hand cannon barked four times and the Knight went down. Cloud watched between shots to keep the Ogre focused on him as the Drifter tumbled to avoid another Taken Knight, shooting as he rolled. A third Taken Knight sliced down with its sword, leaving a huge gouge in the metal flooring where the Drifter had just been standing. The rogue Lightbearer stumbled when the wave of fire coming from the third Knight's eye caught him.

Cloud frowned as the Drifter tripped and disappeared from view. He frowned even more as he saw a small horde of Thralls running to where the Drifter had last been standing.

"Dammit, Drifter." Cloud whispered, slinging his scout rifle over his shoulder and pulling out Planck's Stride, his finger already depressing the trigger so the gun began firing as soon as the muzzle was level with the ground.

On the other side of the Ogre, the Knight that had been attacking the Drifter began to dance with Void-infused bullets.

Cloud calmly tipped the muzzle to the side to pump several rounds into the Ogre, knocking it back and stunning it briefly, before returning to gun down yet another Knight on the other side of the enclosure.

The volume of Thralls now swarming where he'd last seen the Drifter was now beyond concerning. Then, just as Cloud was trying to decide if he could take a few blasts from the Ogre to clear out some of the Thralls, there was a loud clear 'Ding!' and a fireball erupted from the middle of the mess of Thralls.

Cloud ducked back behind the wall in time to avoid the Rotten Surge from the Ogre as another 'Ding!' rang out, erupting in another large Solar grenade.

Cloud stepped out from behind the wall to witness the results of the third 'Ding!' - a Stasis Glacier grenade this time. It was followed up by another Solar grenade, shattering everything embedded in it.

Unfortunately, the fireworks behind the Ogre were now too impressive to ignore and it turned, firing its powerful Arc beam toward where the grenades were going off.

Seeing his opening, Cloud stepped out from behind the wall, jumped up into the air with a spin and let loose multiple flaming knives first from one hand and then the other.

The Solar Blade Barrage ripped into the Ogre's exposed back. Yellow-orange flames fluttered across and then consumed the inky blackness of the Taken's essence in purifying incandescent light, burning it to ash.

The monster's eye stopped firing. It sunk to its knees with a final roar and fell forward motionless just before it completely dissolved.

Cloud hit the ground running and once he'd reached the other side he skidded to a stop where he'd last seen the Drifter. The ground and walls were covered in scorched patches with lingering flames flickering from them. Shards of shattered and dissipating Stasis crunched under his feet. The Drifter was nowhere to be seen.

A single Thrall jumped up and ran at him. Cloud drew and fired Moon River, his hand cannon, lightning quick. The Thrall went down and dissipated near-instantly.

Above him, Cloud heard the rusty groan of metal being forced to do something it did not want to do.

The Exo Guardian tumbled to the side and kept Moon River ready. A large and rusted grating overtop of an equally large and rusting pipe flipped down and the Drifter slid out gracelessly with a stumble as he came to his feet.

Winters materialized and scanned the rogue Lightbearer.

"You were… hiding?" the ghost asked him.

"Yup," he coughed, his coat covered in ashes and grime. "That went sour right quick," he said dryly. "But you turned it around." He pointed at Cloud with a smile. "I knew I could count on you." He stumbled again, propping himself up against a wall to cough a few times while blinking.

"How bad are you hurt?" Cloud asked.

"I've been worse," the Drifter smirked.

"Should we go back?" Winters asked.

"Oh hell no. I didn't just get lit on fire to go back empty handed," the Drifter waved off the concerned ghost. "Drifter wants his fruit!"

"There's seriously nowhere else you could get it?" Cloud asked as the Lightbearer walked past.

"Nope," the Drifter said, continuing forward. "They're extinct. Except here. Gonna make 'em un-extinct if I can. First on the Derelict and then maybe we can stick some of 'em earthside somewhere, leave 'em to grow on their own."

"Why do you care so much about a fruit if you don't even know what it looks like?" Cloud followed behind him.

"What can I say? I like old things. Ol' Drifter's a conservationist at heart."

"Right," Cloud said, entirely unconvinced.

The Drifter stumbled again and caught himself as he started coughing once more.

"Should you get your ghost to heal that?" Cloud asked.

"Nope."

Winters disappeared and then spoke quietly on a private channel directly to Cloud.

"His ghost isn't here."

"What?" Cloud asked under his breath.

"His ghost isn't here. I don't feel it at all."

Cloud let the Drifter get a bit farther ahead while continuing to scan their surroundings for hostiles.

"It's probably just cloaked or something," Cloud whispered. "Drifter's pretty shifty. It'd make sense for his ghost to be shifty too. Where else would it be?"

"I don't know but… what he's doing is very dangerous. Be careful."

Cloud nodded and caught back up to the Drifter who was standing in front of a closed and very secure-looking blast door.

"Alright, alright, alright. Should be just through these doors here. Stay sharp, brother."

…

The Drifter declined Winters' help hacking the security on the door, preferring to hotwire it by hand, but his hotwiring was successful and relatively quick.

Cloud and Winters looked at each other. The Exo shrugged his shoulders and the ghost shrugged his flaps before disappearing again.

Once through the door it was as though they had stepped into a different world. The large automated greenhouse, for that is what it was, was warm, humid, and very overgrown.

Vines dangled everywhere and foliage was bursting from what had once been well maintained gardens with walkways between them. In one corner, water gushed from a ruptured pipe, forming an unnatural waterfall.

The Drifter grinned as he closed the door behind them. "Well would you look at that. Ain't this a tiny section of unmitigated paradise?"

"How is it still running?" Cloud asked.

"Golden Age tech," the Drifter replied. "Sometimes it just works… and keeps workin'."

The Drifter pulled out a data pad and started tapping on it, trying to interface with a computer terminal. "Nope. Maintenance is still maintenance-ing but the higher level systems are all dead. Should be physically labeled though. Time for a scavenger hunt."

Cloud sent Winters for a flyby aerial scan as the Drifter walked along what had once been a path. It was now overgrown with tree roots and vines.

A few steps in, the rogue Lightbearer crouched down and called back to Cloud. "See this?" he said, lifting up a large leaf.

Below the leaf was a small sign. Rusted metal held up engraved glass. The Drifter slid his hand between vines and picked up a handful of dirt, then he rubbed it along the glass. The engraved lettering filled with dirt, and was suddenly legible despite the electronic aspects of the sign no longer functioning.

"Built to last," the Drifter pronounced. "I like it. Lychee sure is a weird name for a tree, though. I wonder if the fruits are the red spiky things. Well… while we're here we might as well…" He stepped in and reached up, grabbing a small red spiky protrusion. It made a wet sound as it came off the branch.

"We're lookin' for either pine apple or an-an-ass," the Drifter continued. "Don't ask me why they call it that. I have no idea. Golden Age humanity had wild names for things."

"Ass fruit." Cloud said. "You've got us here looking for ass fruit."

"I guess," the Drifter answered as he cracked open the red spiky nodule in his hand and raised an eyebrow at white flesh inside before taking a small bite.

"Oh… this is real nice. Try this." He reached up and plucked another from the tree, tossing it over to Cloud.

Cloud stared at it for a moment, questioning his decision making skills if he was seriously considering consuming strange fruit from a location likely undisturbed for centuries, handed to him by the Drifter of all people, but curiosity overcame his reluctance and he broke open the fragile shell and took a small nibble of the inside.

"Huh. It really is good. Sweet."

"Yeah, but it's a nice sweet," the Drifter said. He had wandered much farther away into a different section of the garden.

"Yes," Cloud agreed, moving in a different direction, looking for more of the small signs the Drifter had uncovered.

"Bet that thing in the middle is the seed," the rogue Lightbearer's voice floated up from some overgrowth. "Gonna keep that. Maybe I can get it to grow."

Cloud looked at the remains of his fruit and quietly put the seed into his pocket.

The Drifter's laugh floated over the foliage and a second small spiky red fruit sailed through the air toward Cloud. He caught it easily.

"If you're gonna try growin' it too, most fruit needs two so the flowers can have uh.. happy fun sexy times."

Cloud nodded and ate the second delicious tiny fruit. He had only just finished when he heard Drifter's gravelly voice from a different point farther ahead.

"Dragon fruit? I ain't goin' anywhere near nothing called a dragon fruit. Give that one a wide berth, hero. And don't think any wishful thoughts, just in case it's listenin'."

Cloud grunted in agreement and began searching in the opposite direction.

The air was muggy and thick. Each step Cloud took was accompanied by a squelching sound as muck and vegetation crumpled underfoot. It was uncomfortable and unsettling, but also beautiful.

After rubbing dirt on a fourth sign, Cloud called out, "Drifter!"

"Yeah?"

"I think I found it."

"Nice." The sound of leaves swishing accompanied the Drifter making his way closer.

Streaked with dirt, the small glass sign read: "ananas comosus, pineapple."

"Pineapple is one word, apparently," Cloud said.

"One word? That's clearly two words to me, brother. Pine and apple. The fact that they just up and stuck two words together and made a new one is whacked. Language sure is weird. This is why I stick to math," the Drifter muttered.

Winters had returned and was now scanning the plants.

"That is one ugly fruit," the Drifter pronounced, leaning forward and touching some of the long spiky leaves. "Lookit that. That's the most Hive-lookin' vegetation I ever seen, and I been in Savathun's Throne World. That's more Hivey than the purple Hive cabbage. All spikey and vicious. No wonder she likes it."

"Who's she?" Winters asked.

The Drifter looked up at the drone from where he was crouched. "What?"

"You said no wonder she likes it," Cloud explained. "Who's she?"

The Drifter's eyes narrowed. "Remember that thing we talked about? About not talkin' about what we're talkin' about?"

Cloud sighed. "Yes."

"Lets not talk about that."

Winters slowly rolled his shell as the Drifter reached out two hands and twisted the ugly spiky fruit, ripping it off from the middle of the plant's central stem. It almost looked like an exploding grenade.

"That doesn't look very edible," Cloud said, watching him.

"Neither did the lychee," the Drifter countered. "Lots of plants where the Earth was hot needed to defend themselves. But, if I'm right, then maybe under these spikes…"

He wriggled his fingers and suddenly there was a knife in his hand, seemly pulled from the air. Even in the middle of a swampy greenhouse with only one other person for an audience, that he was paying to be there, the Drifter was still doing sleight-of-hand.

The knife blade cut deep into the fruit and the Drifter pulled out a wedge. The outside spikes gave way to bright yellow flesh. The Drifter smelled it and then nibbled it. "Oh yeah. Yeah this is it. Taste that." He tossed the strange fruit wedge to Cloud.

Cloud held it out for Winters to scan before taking a small bite. "It's sweet," he said. "And very acidic."

"Cloud," Winters interrupted. "Spectral analysis shows that plant has an enzyme that's able to partially dissolve human flesh. It's a weak enzyme and cannot do any damage to your Exo body but… it's almost like it's… attempting to eat you…"

The Drifter looked up with a wide grin. "A plant that eats ya back? Damn! That is …so her."

Both Cloud and Winters stared at him. The Drifter shook his head as he returned his gaze to the plant, clearly admiring it. "Like it's gettin' vengeance," he said under his breath before turning back to them. "Keep watch, hotshot. I gotta get dirty over here, an' I do love gettin' dirty, but just you make sure nothin' takes us out while I do."

Cloud kept Dead Man's Tale ready as the Drifter pulled out a folding shovel from seemingly nowhere, unfolded it, and started to dig.

Half an hour later, two plants with roots wrapped in cloth, four spiky pineapple fruit, and two long tentacle-like spikes lay on the ground at their feet.

"I'm not seeing any seeds," Winter said, hovering above one of the remaining plants and scanning it again.

"Not sure this thing has seeds," the Drifter replied, carefully examining his handiwork. "I think these," He pointed to the long green spikes he'd set aside, "…are as close as we get. An' I'm pretty sure this weird spiky pineapple fruit is actually a flower. Such an evil lookin' thing. Angry. Like it's gonna stab things. It's perfect." He licked his lips with a wide grin, clearly delighted at what they had secured.

"Anywhoo," the Drifter stood up, folding his shovel back into its compact form. "Get your ghost to transmat these away for now and I'll get 'em back from you once we get out."

"Why can't you get your ghost to-"

A distant but very loud crash echoed through the Arcology. Both Lightbearers trained their weapons on the door.

"That sounds big," the Drifter said. "Finish this fast, yeah?"

Cloud nodded and Winters began to transmat away what the Drifter had set aside to his internal storage.

Once they were back through the door, the Drifter crouched down and began fiddling with the wires he'd twisted together to hotwire it open. Cloud stood next to him, his weapon ready. Another loud impact filled their ears. They felt it through the floor this time.

"What are you doing?" Cloud whispered.

"I wanna come back here," the Drifter explained. "Dont' want nothin' gettin' in there and messin with anything else. That's a living museum in there."

"You really are a conservationist."

The Drifter gave him a small smile, different from his usual practiced grin. "Most smugglers are," he said quietly. Sparks spat out from the wires in his fingers and another layer of the blast doors closed. "Got it. Alright let's get goin'."

…

Cloud and the Drifter peeked cautiously across the last area they needed to get through before they were at their transmat beacon. It had been empty on their way in. Now it was crawling with Wrathborn.

"That's a lot," Cloud said quietly.

"Damn. All green and misty. Was hoping not to be shootin' space lobster today, since you got family that's them. I'm sorry."

"Those ones haven't been Eliksni for a while," Winters said quietly next to Cloud's ear.

"You gonna be up for this?" the Drifter asked. "These ones ain't friends. Hard not to see friends when ya fight 'em though."

"We don't have much choice, and we're just trying to get through." Cloud answered. "There's a lot of them though."

"Yup," the Drifter pointed up above their heads to a long beam that ran down the middle near the top of the vaulted ceiling. "Shortcut along the roof through the rafters, but it's very exposed. Once they look up, they're gonna notice. How do you feel about balancing on thin ledges while dodging gunfire and avoiding a long drop, with certain death below, all the while at a dead run, brother?"

"Sounds like Tuesday," Cloud said, wryly.

"Haha! I like your style, kid. Let's dance!"

It was more of a pipe than a beam. Its curved surface had cross-bars bolted to it periodically, providing structural integrity to the roof above. Cloud and the Drifter scurried lightly along, working hard to avoid making noise and stay unnoticed.

They got almost halfway across before an Arc-charged Wrathborn Captain below them screamed and started sending Arc bolts flying up at them.

"Knew that was too good to last," the Drifter muttered and began to run faster.

A Befouler Wrathborn Heavy Shank rose up to the same height in the ceiling as they were, guns pointed at both of them, with eight smaller shanks clustered around it. All began firing.

The Drifter picked off four of the smaller Shanks without breaking stride before reloading and ducking behind a metal joist to avoid being hit.

Cloud took a running leap and landed on top of the large Heavy Shank. He dodged, jumping back off off it and landing next to the Drifter just in time for the Shank to become incandescent with Solar light. He followed up with two shots from his hand cannon and the Shank exploded and fell apart, raining twisted metal and fire onto the hostiles below.

"Hahaha! You're amazing, brother!" the Drifter laughed as he continued running ahead.

Below them, a Wrathborn Brig fired its missile launcher, hitting the pipe under the Drifter's feet. He jumped out of the way but the area where he landed collapsed as well.

Cloud jumped, slamming into the Drifter and clothes-lining him mid-air. The Drifter practically folded in half around Cloud's arms and the Hunter's momentum took them both through the air across the ceiling and down to land on a catwalk half-way up the walls.

The Drifter rolled out from under Cloud and came to his knees gasping for breath and coughing. "Woo!" he said between coughs. "Glad you're on my side." Cloud stood and held out a hand. The Drifter grabbed it and came to his feet with a grin. His eyes flicked to the side and, asp-quick, he began firing Trust from his hip into the Wrathborn Servitor which had teleported behind Cloud.

Cloud jumped up, placing one leg and then the other into a wall-run up and around the Drifter, away from the Servitor.

The spherical Servitor's central eye began to charge with Void energy. The Drifter kept firing directly into the middle of it. His shots were precise but it was a very large Servitor and the eye kept charging. Just before it could fire, a Solar Scatter grenade landed directly on top of it. The Servitor burst into flames and fell.

The two Lightbearers nodded to each other and continued running along the catwalk, dodging and shooting.

They jumped down from the catwalk near the other end of the long open area, still running and gunning. Cloud let loose a Blade Barrage, clearing the path ahead of them of hostiles, and the Drifter slid down on his knees in front of the crate where he'd hidden the transmat beacon. He ripped the top off and began rapidly assembling the device.

Cloud stayed on his feet and continued shooting. He'd switched to Plank's Stride and was now mowing down anything coming toward them.

"How much longer?" he called back to the Drifter.

"Workin' on it! Almost there!" the Drifter yelled back while rapidly snapping metal pieces together.

"Can you go any faster?" Cloud asked as his machine gun ran out of ammunition. He pulled out Nezerac's Whisper and began using the glaive's shield to deflect incoming fire from himself and the Drifter behind him while shooting the occasional Arc bolt at the oncoming Wrathborn.

"Nope!" the Drifter said cheerily.

The ground below them both began to glow in a bright red-orange circle.

"Drifter!" Cloud shouted.

An armoured gloved hand grabbed Cloud's shoulder and the Drifter yelled "Transmat firing!"

The transmat rippled and they both disappeared just before the incoming Solar Spitfire barrage annihilated everything in the area they'd just been standing.

…

Both men staggered, breathing heavily and stumbling as they materialized in the Gambit ready room on the Derelict.

"Woo-eee! That was close!" the Drifter said excitedly before he was overtaken with a coughing fit.

Cloud walked over to a set of metal steps and sat down.

Winters appeared at his shoulder.

"That was more than close. That was ridiculous. You almost got us all killed for your stupid fruit!" the tiny ghost shivered in anger.

"Yeah, but we lived." The Drifter winked at the upset drone and walked over to a nearby shipping crate.

He slapped the top of the large box and said "Now, give Drifter his pineapples."

Winters looked back at Cloud. Cloud nodded. Winters made a noise that could only be interpreted as a sigh and transmatted the fruit, plants and stem spikes onto the top of the crate.

The Drifter picked up one of the fruits and smelled it with a wide grin. "Mmm-mmm. This is gonna be great. But first, you gotta get paid."

He took two steps back and reached into a different open crate, pulling out the box he'd shown them earlier and adding a second, smaller metal box on top of it. Both clinked loudly.

Cloud stood up from the steps and approached the boxes.

"That's the first part," Drifter said. "Get your ghost to count it if you like, but listen, brother. That was more than either of us bargained for and you saved Drifter's ass not once but three separate times. Don't think I didn't notice. Get your ghost to send me a full loadout of any of my gear and I'll leave it for you in the post box but also…"

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a jade coin. He flicked it and it ignited in his fingers. He tossed it across the crate to Cloud.

The flame went out as it tumbled through the air and Cloud caught the coin. He looked at it in his hand and flipped it over. Both sides had the Drifter's jade Gambit snakes now very blackened and charred from Solar fire.

"That's a favour," the Drifter leaned on the crate and coughed before he continued. "Hold on to that. Call it in when you need it. I owe you one."

Winter hovered over the boxes on the crate. "Cloud, this is more glimmer than we agreed to."

"We got the whole plants intact, and you kept me alive. I told ya I value my own ass highly. You're a class act, brother." The Drifter gave him a small two-fingered salut. "Thanks."

…

The next day Cloud stood in line at the post office. Kadi 55-30 turned away at the counter and then turned back with a box wrapped in Gambit green with the Drifter's snakes embossed on the outside. "Package for Cloud." Kadi said. "Happy Dawning."

Cloud stepped to the side and opened the box. Inside were several engrams and another smaller box.

"All there?" he asked Winters.

"All there, but also something else," Winters answered. "A box of… cookies?"

Cloud pulled out the smaller box and opened it. It smelled delightful. Inside was a selection of different cookies, pinwheel, coconut balls, shortbread, several dark chocolate tetrahedrons that looked like tiny motes, and a little note card. In clear clean printing with thin marker were the words:

Thanks again, hotshot! Enjoy the gear. See you in Gambit. ~D

"These are nicely done," Winters said. "Do you think he made them himself? Oh hey, are those Etheric Coldsnaps? And look! Those candies look like tiny Herealways pieces! Whisp is going to love those."

Cloud closed up both boxes and began to turn away.

"Guardian," Kadi 55-30 called out to him. "Package for Cloud. Happy Dawning."

He turned back to receive a smaller box wrapped in brown cloth. It was tied with red velvet string and had a small metal charm with Eris Morn's symbol imprinted on it.

Cloud opened the box to find several misshapen cookies, hard as rocks and burnt on the bottom, perhaps made of oatmeal but it was difficult to tell. A small folded note was on top of them.

In a thin spidery hand with cursive that was difficult to read, the note read:

Cloud,

I am told you were of great help recently to someone I care for. Thank you.

Happy Dawning, E

One edge of the paper was sticky and smelled faintly of pineapple.

[atruththatyoudeny]

Happy 28th! Here are all the amazing fics I read this month:

An Alpha For Christmas | IceQueenRia | [28k] At age 30, Harry Styles is embarrassed to admit he’s still a single Omega and he knows his family are worried about him being alone. With the Christmas holidays coming up, Harry’s sister makes a comment about how he should ask Santa for an Alpha for Christmas. “Maybe I’ve already got one,” he retorted. He intended it to be a joke, but Gemma took him seriously and excitedly told everyone that Harry FINALLY has a boyfriend so now his entire family expects to meet his Alpha over the holidays. There isn’t enough time for Harry to meet someone for real and he certainly can’t afford to hire an Alpha. So Harry swallows his pride and asks the Alpha who recently moved in 2 doors down to join him and his family for Christmas.

Honk | allwaswell16 | [3.7k] Louis was not a romantic. He never really dreamed of finding his soulmate. Definitely not like this. Never like this. Harry was a romantic. He’d always dreamed of finding his soulmate. Just like this. Exactly like this. An omegaverse, soulmate goose fic for the holidays

Wrapped in Red & White | wanderlou | [21k] “It’s very rude not to say hello back,” she scolded, hands planted firmly on her hips like she was running the place. “My mommy taught me that.” Harry stared at the little pup, mouth agape, his grip on the stapler slackening. Was this real? It couldn’t be real. Maybe Jacob had drugged his sandwich earlier because there was no logical reason for a random child to be standing in his office, alone, at 5 PM. “Are… are you real?” he finally managed to ask, brow furrowed in disbelief. Or Grumpy CEO Alpha Harry despises Christmas, but his world is turned upside down when a sweet Omega and his adorable pup enter his life. Will their unexpected bond be enough to thaw his icy heart?

Scrubs | sarah_e28 | [55k] Louis Tomlinson is a world class neurosurgeon. He has worked hard and made many sacrifices to become the best in his field. That includes leaving his boyfriend of ten years for a new start. What happens when his ex shows up at his hospital with more than Louis bargained for?

No bananas in the library | emmli28 | [36k] Sometimes it all starts with a dare, sometimes the dare comes later, and sometimes the dare is actually the push someone needs to be brave enough to talk to someone. Louis wouldn’t say Harry is his enemy but that loud frat boy can be incredibly annoying, always disturbing Louis when he tries to study, and Louis has certainly told him so. And he’s always eating his disgusting bananas. However, one day Harry approaches him to say that he wants to get to know Louis. This isn’t the typical “dare”-story.

Half Agony, Half Hope | asphodelknox | [132k] Harry had never believed the rumors of the beast at the manor on the hill. They sounded like something from Twilight or an old Hollywood horror film, a beautiful man who turned into a beast once a month and killed anyone who was unlucky enough to be stuck on the manor’s grounds. Yeah, right. The manor was probably just creepy and old. Besides, it’s not like he had anything else to do. Harry's had enough of his shit year. Had enough of his shit ex and the fact that he graduated from university with no idea what to do next or what to do with the grief. Ed dares him to spend a month at the crumbling Tomlinson manor, and Harry goes cause what else do you do when your life's fallen apart? It's not really haunted anyway... is it? I Guess I'll Surrender | therogueskimo | [28k] A lad’s Christmas holiday provides the perfect opportunity for Louis and Harry to prank their friends. They decide to fake date. Feelings kind of get in the way.

If The Fates Allow | zita17 | [25k] A serendipitous meeting led former boy bander and current pop star Harry Styles to fall in love with a boy named Louis nine Christmases ago. Six Christmases ago, that boy left him to raise a baby that wasn’t Harry’s. And, well, Harry never quite got over that. But this year, he gets a second chance at first love. A love letter to second chances, unconventional families, and Christmas in New York. Loosely inspired by James Arthur’s Emily and Dickens' A Christmas Carol featuring Liam, Niall, and Zayn as the ad hoc ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future. The ingredients for this Christmas treat include a wallop of a blizzard, a pinch of angst, a dollop of fluff, several cups of clichés, and The Rockefeller Center skating rink as a supporting character.

Wanna Be Loved By You | likelarry | [40k] Harry and Louis have just finalised their divorce when Harry finds out he's pregnant with Louis' baby. Together, they have to find a way to work on their relationship, despite them ending on a bad note, for the sake of their child and maybe along the way, they relearn why they'd fallen in love with each other in the first place.

we're leading each other out of the dark | anditsonlyforthebrave | [16k] “But I don’t want you to think that I left because I didn’t care,” Harry admits, “Lou, you’re terrifying in the best way. And I knew that if I told you, if I said goodbye, I would’ve come back crying after two weeks,” Harry explains, “and I wish I had a better explanation, but everything I have ever said to you was true. I loved you, and you were the most important person in my life and I never, ever wanted to let you down.” “But you left me.” Harry nods, “and you hid the fact that I had a child for six years, involving my own mother.” “But you left me,” Louis repeats. or Harry leaves and never looks back, only for him to eventually come home to find Louis and a little girl that looks exactly like him.

Not having a breakdown! (I'm just here for the kid.) | louisismycat (tiflamomet) | [28k] Harry has to park outside his ex-husband’s (Louis) wedding so that he can whisk their kid away if a meltdown ensues during the day. Guests will not know this and will only see him parked outside, it cannot be stressed enough, his ex-husband’s wedding.

It's Complicated | LTHSFICS | [93k] Louis takes a swig of his beer. “You wanna know why we aren’t okay?” “Please do tell me Louis,” Harry insists. “You”-Louis sticks his finger against Harry’s chest-“are making a big deal about nothing! We both miss shit, not just me okay? So don’t go blaming all our problems on me!” “The problem is you Louis!” “Oh really? Well then why don’t you just rid of the problem then?” Harry frowns. “What the hell do you mean?” And without even thinking Louis shouts, “Divorce me! Hell divorce me and maybe we’ll both be happier!” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets them. OR Louis and Harry never would have thought that one day they would be getting a divorce. The only thing that connects them now is a long history and more importantly their three children. Both parents never wanted this, but maybe a divorce was just what they needed.

[snderist]

Nobody asked for this but something else I tend to notice in the simblr community is their lack of support towards black simmers. And it truly makes me sad cause I have seen tons of black simmers adjust their game’s “aesthetic” to fit the preferences of others!!

Many black simmers who post their chocolate skinned sims with a “posh” or “soft” aesthetic get way more attention than others who post more “ghetto-looking” sims. I am NOT saying we should categorize our skin color in a way that depicts us as “less fortunate” or “less educated”. Y’all have basically gentrified simblr without even realizing it…

Having the nerve to ask a black simmer/creator “Is it internalized self-hate?” when simmers have completely changed the aspect of a 3D dress-up/roleplay game that needs bug fixes every millisecond, IS RIDICULOUS. I remember back in 2017-18 when this game AND black simmers were in their prime. There wasn’t a Let’s Play Series or machinima that I didn’t come across that was not made by a black simmer… and they were amazing! Now we constantly have to walk on eggshells when it comes to how we play or post our game. Why tf would anyone take real life struggles and throw it in a gaming community?

“Your sim is black but she’s dating a white man… you must hate your kind.” “How is your sim dark skinned but not African-American? Do you hate yourself?” “Mm, sorry this sim isn’t dark enough to be considered black”. And you know what kills me about these type of comments? They don’t just come from the white folks, but our own people as well!

It’s like a double standard. White simmers will try to check you for not posting black (enough) sims but won’t do it themselves?? Black simmers will try to check you for not indulging in black culture when it comes to your gameplay. But it’s like… how can we do that when we’re constantly being judged & or questioned by others. It’s a crazy world we live in fr.

Black creators shouldn’t have to be pressured to change the way they play their game just for a few likes and reblogs.

Anyways, say your prayers & have a good rest of y’alls day 🙏🏽.

I’ve been thinking about the colorism ask @neishroom got a couple days ago and like. I’m not even going to lie, that shit is part of the reason I stopped posting as much. I was sick of analyzing all of my generations to make sure my sims were black enough and being worried people would think I don’t care about my black sims if they married someone not black or were bad people (even if them being bad people is fucking EA canon or just a matter of perspective and lack of growth).

Why are we really out here putting this kind of pressure on black simmers like its not simmers out here with 7 generations of only white sims on their blogs.

[freebooter4ever]

dear mom, one day ill be living in a big old city and all youll ever be is mean :)

[walking-loather]

When it comes to hygiene tasks and self care with disability and chronic illness, its pretty much a constant case of: don't let perfect be the enemy of the good.

Basically: it's better to do something, than to do nothing at all.

TLDR: Just because you can't do something "properly" doesn't mean you shouldn't do it at all. Do it half-way. Do it shitty. Do it barely. Do it on a technicality. But do what you can. Just try, because doing something will help you.

If you don't have the energy to scrub your body with a sponge, just rub soap over your skin with your hands.

If you don't have the energy to wash your whole body with soap, just hit the places where sweat accumulates, or where you're smelliest.

If you don't have the energy to wash with soap AT ALL, just sitting in water is better than nothing. It will wash away dirt and oils.

If you can't bathe or shower at all, a warm wash cloth is your new best friend. If that's too much, then try bath wipes. They're a bit bigger than regular wet wipes, and a bit more heavy duty. They're designed to help keep bed ridden patients clean in hospitals.

If you don't have the energy to dry yourself after a bath or a shower, just put on a bathrobe and get into bed. If you don't have the energy to get dressed afterwards, just don't. It can wait until you can.

If you don't have energy to brush your teeth for two minutes, honestly, just a cursory scrub is better than not doing anything.

If you can't brush your teeth twice a day, brush in the evenings. It will help take away the build up of food from the day.

If you don't have the energy to brush AT ALL, honestly, just take a cloth and wipe the plaque off your teeth. Rinse with mouth wash after if you'd like. Something is always better than nothing.

If you can't floss twice a day. Try once. If that's too much, try a few times a week. If that's too much, try setting aside a day once a week as a goal. If you can't keep a schedule, do it when you're able to. Hell, I keep some floss next to my bed so that if I forget and don't have the energy to go get it, I can just reach over.

If you can't iron your clothes, don't bother. Wrinkles are fine. Wear jumpers over wrinkly t-shirts. No one will know, and honestly, most people won't even care. If it's really wrinkly and it's A Big Deal And It Needs To Be Ironed, here's my life hack. Step 1: take a spray bottle, and spritz the item of clothing (while you're wearing it is easiest) until it's lightly damp. Step 2: use a hair-dryer on the clothes until they're dry. It gets rid of creases like nobody's business, it's easier than lugging out the iron and ironing board, and you get to have nice toasty warm clothes afterwards.

If you can't fold your clothes, try just hanging them up. It's less commitment. It's quicker to do. Granted, you need to have the space in order to do this, but it is also good at helping you downsize, and lets you visualise exactly what you have.

If you can't put your clothes away, invest in a couple of laundry baskets, and then just keep your clean clothes in the baskets. You can then separate washed clothes into underwear, pants, and shirts baskets. You can just leave them like that. I'm giving you permission to never fold your laundry again if you can't. Just leave it unfolded. Who's going to care? Something is better than nothing. If you can, try to put those baskets into your closet so that you can keep the clutter out of sight, and give yourself a more restful environment.

If you can't separate your clothing out into different categories and wash them "properly" (whites, warm tones, cool tones, darks, delicates / switching between hot & cold washes / paying attention to laundry instructions on the label) then just don't worry about it. If you cold wash your clothes, colours won't bleed. Maybe gradually over the course of dozens of washes there'll be some changes in hue, but it's really not as high stakes as the One Red Sock In The Whites Turns Them Pink trope makes it out to be.

I've pretty much come to the point in my life where if a piece of clothing can't survive the washer and dryer, then it's just not meant to be. I colour separate my clothes, and if I have the energy/remember I'll take my bras and jumpers out of the washing machine to drip dry. But otherwise, I leave it to the universe.

If you can't separate out your recycling, then don't. If you have a large amount of rubbish you need to get rid of but the idea of separating it out properly is stopping you from doing so, then just don't worry about it. I know it's not ideal, but if you have garbage in your room/house and you need to get rid of it, please just get rid of it. Don't let the problem get bigger and harder to deal with. Don't let "doing something properly" get in the way of keeping your living spaces clean. Please. Give yourself understanding.

If you can't wash your dishes, get paper plates. Obviously, it's not ideal, but it is better that you eat food than skipping meals. It is better that you have a clean kitchen, rather than having dishes piling up and making it harder to look after yourself.

If you can't prepare meals for yourself keep making the tasks easier and easier. If you can't do recipes, then simplify. Use pasta sauce from the jar instead of making it. Eat canned soup. Buy food you can just stick in the oven. If you eat fish fingers and microwave veggies every night, it's better than not eating anything at all. It's better than having to fork out money on take-out. If you need ready-made meals, then get them. If you're literally just eating a raw cauliflower for dinner; 1) I see you, 2) me too, sis, 3) something is better than nothing.

These are the basic things you need to do every day to function as a person. They are your activities of daily living. Brushing your teeth. Bathing or showering. Using the bathroom. Getting dressed. Eating. Drinking. Sleeping. Keeping your environment clean. You don't need to do these things perfectly, but they need to happen in order for you to have a decent quality of life.

And it breaks my heart, because I know that so many disabled people can't do these things every day. I'm not saying this to guilt or judge, I'm saying that these are basic needs; you deserve these things. These things bring dignity. If a disabled person is unable to do these things, it diminishes their quality of life. It robs them of dignity.

If you need help to do these things, Its okay to ask for help. It's okay to need help. But if you can't get that help and you have to do these things by yourself -- or you just plain want to be independent and do it without help-- then don't hold yourself to standards you can't meet.

Don't let perfect be the enemy of the good. Doing something is always better than doing nothing. Even if it's not perfect. Even if it's not done well. Do what you can.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[softshuji]

Any men out there wanna pretend to be my bf to get my parents off my case about marriage? I am so so serious right now.

[justagaymoth]

It's out

I'm not finished but here it is so far

I don’t want a man or anybody I just need a warm body to hold. I don't want love of any kind. I don’t even love my friends its not like a hate them. I just don't love very often. That doesn't mean the people I love are any special. The main person I love is not “the one” whatever that means. If they were, it would be incsest. The only person I truly love constantly is my sister. This is not to say i dont care about humanity or the people in my life i just dont love them. I dont feel anything in my heart for them. Not my parents, not my friends, not the guys that ask me out because i'm pretty. I hate it when anyone says they love me because i can't love them back no matter how badly i want to. The guilt and disgust I feel when I hear the word love aimed at me like a missile that could kill a hundred men or more.

My life is pretty okay right now. Im in my first month of my semester of college and three boys have asked me out and two have asked me to parties. I like to think they asked me out because of my smart and witty comments in class but in reality its because of my face and boobs. I hate collage boys. Well most of them one is pretty alright he is in my biology 101 a first noticed him when I accidentally saw his test score on a pop quiz. I just happened to be looking that way. I was staring day dreaming about my sci fi fantasy world i've been thinking about since I was 5. The main thing that pushed me to try so hard to learn to read was that world. I needed to write it down and publish it one day. Maybe some other bullied kids would find as much comfort in that world as me. Anyways he was one of three people who didn't get a D or below on that test and this girl I didn't know were the only ones who got a decent grade.The third person who got a decent grade was me.I know this because everyone else growed or looked very sad or angry. The girl was so excited she passes she let out a tiny shriek. He got an A+ I got an A.

“Congratulations on your grade, that was a difficult quiz,” was the first thing I ever said to him.

“Thanks, hopefully you didn't do too bad.” I chuckled. I still don't know why I did that.

“I got an A. I figured I would get a B or C,” I said i was surprised i told him that last part.

“Why would you suspect a C you always make amazing comments in class. Sometimes it seems you know more than our professor.”

“You notice what i say in class? I thought no one payed attention to the professor much less me." Wait, I didn't mean to say that out loud.

“Sometimes your comments in class teach me more than Professor Browns,” he chuckled after he said that. His chuckles are like music. I don't love him. Don't get this twisted, this is not a love story. And this is definitely not one of those love stories that says that it's not a love story in the beginning of the movie but by the end they are in love.there was a short pause then he spoke again.

“I forgot to tell you my name, I'm Bayley but my friends call me Bark. I have a feeling we will be friends,” after he said that he grabbed my purple pen and started writing something a the straw rapper from his pesi. “Here is my number. I need more smart friends,” he said smiling and handed me his straw rapper.

“My name is Sophia but I hate my name so call me whatever you like.”

“Well I better get to my next class bye So-” he stopped himself from saying Sophia and just waved and smiled.

I kinda hope I see Bayely again. Something about him

seem different from the other guys who gave me their numbers. I think I might actually message him. I hear a ringing sound from my phone it's a phone call from my sister.

“Hey Sophia, how are you? We haven't talked on the phone in so long. I apologize for that I've been busy with school.” I could not help but smile it makes me happy when my sister calls me. She is the only one who I actually don't mind calling me Sophia.

“Hey Emma, I'm doing pretty well. Speaking of school, another guy gave me his number.”

“Wow, isn't that like the 5th guy or something? Do you think you are gonna go out with him? Is he hot?”

“He is the first guy to give me his number and not ask me out I think he wants to be friends or something. He said he needs more smart friends. It's weird a guy wants to be my friend and doesn't see me as just a hot body.”

“So Sophia, do you think you are going to text him?”

“Yeah probably he has a rare combination of brains and being attractive. He actually made me chuckle I don't know how he did that.”

“Does someone have a crush?” She said that in a sing song voice she is clearly in her romance obsessed high school phase.

“No but if he asked to fuck i might say yes.” I probably shouldn't have said that. It's okay Emma is a senior in highschool. She lost her virginity last summer to her now ex girlfriend.

“College must be wild.”

“It's really not especially compared to high school which is probably for the best.”

“I have to go Sophia, I still have some homework.”

“Okay Emma if you need any help with your homework call me back cause I'm kinda a huge nerd.”

“Okay bye I love you sister”

“Love you too Emma” I mean it's true I love my sister and myself are the only ones I really love in this world.

I begin to type out “hi this is Sophia”. Remembering when Bayley was about to call me Sophia but stopped himself I really liked when he did that. I press send hoping he doesn't ask me out. A few minutes later I hear I ding from my phone. It's Bayley. “Hey this is Bayley. How are you?”

“I am okay just bored I finished my homework ages ago. How are you Bayley?”

“This is a weird question but can I call you?” Bayley texted

I didn't text him back, instead he called me himself.

“Hey Bayley, why did you want to call me?”

“I just want to be closer to you.” Oh fuck he wants me doesn't he?

“I'm sorry Bayley, I don't want to go out with you.”

“I don't want that either I'm sorry I didn't mean it like that I just really need someone to talk to it's getting boring. I hate being alone and I am not on good terms with my family. Oh shit I didn't mean to say the family stuff out loud. I literally just met you. I am just really awkward.”

“It's okay Bayley. I need people to talk to as well my friends from high school were shit I only have my sister and she is 2 years younger than me.”

“How old are you So-” he stopped himself from saying Sophia he remembers I don't like that name how sweet. I still don't love him.

“I'm 19. How about you?”

“I'm 20 I turn 21 in October. I don't know what I'm going to do and who I'm going to hang out with. All I know is I don't want to spend my birthday by myself.”

“What day is your birthday, Bayley?”

“It's October 20th”

“Okay,” I said looking up how many days till then on Google. It's 21 days till then. Woah I can't believe it's September 30th already.

“Do you want to hang out this weekend? There is an orchard right by my house where we can go there.” I asked hopefully he says yes. I really need something to do.

“Yeah that sounds fun. I mean how could it not you are witty and pretty.” I laughed loudly when he said that.

“Shit it's already 7:30. I need to eat dinner.” I feel a little sad to end our phone call.

“Alright bye So” he said it just like he was saying someone's name. I think I like So better than Sophia.

I hang out every weekend till his birthday. Those 21 days were some of the best of my life. I still don't want to date him or anything. However every time we hang out he gets hotter. I really want to fuck him but I don't want to ruin my only friendship I have. So I resit the urge to tell him how handsome he looks every time I see him. The more I see him the happier I feel. Hanging out with him is good for my mental health. I like his jokes. He has called me pretty a couple times so maybe calling him handsome wouldn't be so bad. It's not like it means I want to date him or anything.

My alarm rings at 9 am on October 20th. My first class starts at 10:30. The first thing I do after seeing that it's Bayely’s birthday is I texted him a message that reads “Happy birthday Bayley I've really enjoyed getting to know you. It's really nice to have something to do on the weekends besides homework, job and watching New Girl.” I could help but think Maybe I could do you sometime. Of course I didn't send that. I made him a card already and drew him. I'm not very good. It was the first thing I drew in a year. I was depressed so I stopped drawing a year ago and I just never started up again. I might as well start now. Anyways the card has two paragraphs in it describing how I felt on our adventures with him. We have been hanging out every weekend for the past 3 weeks and we have coffee and do our homework for our biology 101 and help each other.

He's leaned his head on my shoulder a few times it usually stays there for hours. It's like my shoulder is the place his head has been searching for all his life. What am I even saying? I really should be in love when I'm with him I feel happy but not in love. When he puts his head on my shoulder my stomach settles. I feel so relaxed I feel like falling asleep. That's not how I felt when I was in love at age 16. I felt energized and my heart would swell up and fly. I don't feel that way with him. I don't know if this is what people feel for their friends because I don't remember the last time I loved any of my friends at the time. I just feel comfortable, happy and horny when I'm with him. I don't know if this is love. I don't want to date him because that would be a change. I like how it is now. The only change I want is for me to fuck him.

My phone rings. It's 20 minutes till my class. I'm driving there now. My phone is hooked up to the speakers I'm playing She And Him. Zoe Dechanel is so amazing. Sometimes I think I'm in love with her but that's not how it works. She is a celebrity. I don't think I've ever been this excited for biology 101. I really like science but that's not why I'm happy. Augh I'm so fucking horny right now. I'm also nervous because I sorta wrote that fact on the card. I don't remember everything I wrote because if I memorized it I would not give it to him. I'm so afraid I'm going to ruin his birthday with this card. I want him to have the best birthday possibly. If he wants to I plan to take him to his favorite coffee shop this weekend and then my house if he wants. I have so many things to show him at my house. I don't want to ruin what I have with him. I don't really want friends besides the casual ones I see once a month for science club. I just feel overwhelmed with too many friends and too many people. I don't know.

Oh shit I'm in the class he is standing next to me. We both arrived 30 or so minutes early to make sure we could review the notes we took yesterday. He is just standing there with A huge smile on his face. Shit he sees the card.

“Uh happy birthday. I made you a stupid card and I'm not very good at writing or drawing. I mean not when it comes to non science stuff. Well…” I say awkwardly.

“I can't believe you remembered!” He says excitedly opening the card. I want to disappear. This is so embarrassing. I just stand there staring at him. After what feels like hours but can't be more than 5 minutes. He hugs me. I'm still in shock. I feel nothing but fear.

“I love it. You are so pretty don't worry I don't want to date you either. I kept trying to give you hints that I wanted to sleep with you, this is the best way to tell me.” he whispers so quietly I can barely hear him. I've never heard him whisper and it's so hot. My weekend plans are so happening! I look to see if anyone is in the hallway when I see no one I kiss his check them whisper. “I have several birthday surprises planned for you this weekend.” He smiled in the hottest way possible. Not the same smile as when he was waiting for the card. I think he knows one of the surprises is sex he is clueless about the others.

I can't pay attention to the lecture today. I'm just thinking about sex and Bayley’s birthday. I can't stop replaying what just happened in my head. It was perfect. Maybe this wasn't so impossible afterall. I hope he doesn't find a girlfriend. I don't want to be his girlfriend but if he found one we could never talk. most people I talk to I don't want their partner to speak to someone they used to fuck or date. I hope this lasts longer than a few months like all the others. Most people don't want what I want or they do at first then they change their mind and I never speak to them or they call me when they get drunk or lonely. It's annoying.

I snap back into reality when the teacher asks me what is a difference between cells and animal cells.Thank god we were learning about something I already know today.

“Plant cells have cell walls which add an extra layer of protection. Plant cells also have Chloroplasts which play a major role in photosynthesis.”

“Thank you Sophia, see someone was paying attention.”

I quickly glance at Bayley. He is starting. I should probably help him review the slides this weekend. He is not paying attention just like me. The only difference is he is not going into science as a major.

update!!

I started writing a story about a loveless aromantic aplatonic allosexual nonbinary person. They met a guy named Bayely his nickname is Bark. they meet in a collage biology class and they don't fall in love or get into any type of relationship. They after a few months of being friends he develops sexual feelings for the main charter. and they become friends with benefits but the benefits are sex and cuddles. he has never cuddled anyone besides family because all of his romantic partners have just wanted him for his body. their story focusses on their abnormal friendship but its not a queer platonic relationship. eventually the main charter wants a kid and has the awkward conversation of asking Bark to help them explaining that he does not have to have a father role in the kids life if he does not want to. he says yes after a month of thinking it over he says he wants a more uncle like role in this kids life. after a year of sometimes helping out with this kid he wants a more fatherly role in this kids life. a few months later he moves in with the main charter to take care of the one year old. Bark and the main character have separate rooms they are pretty much friends with befits roommates who are raising a kid together. I have not written all of the story yet I only started writing it today I have 692 words so far. I got the idea for this story while daydreaming about what I want. I might call the main charter Soe (pronounced like the word so) as a shortened version of the charters birth name Sophia. Might post somewhere if anyone wants to read it when its finished comment or like this post if this sounds interesting to you

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

it's like. everything happens so much. it's all happening right now but at the same time nothing is happening whatsoever. it's a liminal space of an existence. it's slowly crushing me under the weight but when I look up there's nothing actually bearing down on me. there shouldn't be any weight. something is wrong but nothing has happened. I'm simultaneously overwhelmed and utterly bored. nothing is happening and maybe that's the everything that's happening. maybe the everything is the nothing. we aren't there yet but it's all so imminent. either everything is going to crash down or nothing is. I'm just waiting to figure out which.