#someone has been given a full cardboard box and two bags

[sweet-as-kiwis]

Fridays in the dining halls are always So Funny

[macandriley]

5x06 - A Very MacRiley Analysis

Obligatory post to answer the age-old question: What do you see in MacRiley?

I’d like to start this off by saying, like a lot of you, I had very minimal hopes for this episode. I really didn’t expect anything to happen on the MacRiley front—especially not something that would significantly impact that storyline. 

But...I do enjoy being wrong.

Full transparency: this is not an episode review. If it were, I’d have to talk about the glaring plot inconsistencies and strange timeline. And I feel like I’ve already talked myself hoarse over that. 

So, without further adieu, let’s get into the long-winded analysis. 

The Cold Open

Absolutely irrelevant to the overall story and to this analysis. I just really like the way Mac says, “Riley, take the wheel,” and I thought it deserved an honorable mention.

“2020 Is Gonna Be Awesome”

Here, we cut to quarantine shenanigans. It’s cute. Fun. To see Riley and Bozer interacting like siblings again after so long just felt right.

Now, this is the pandemic, so of course conversations of toilet paper shortages arise. So Mac, in true MacGyver fashion, throws out some fun alternatives like newspaper and pine needles. And Riley shoots them all down, as she should. 

Because in the immortal words of Desi in 5x04, “Ew.”

This is when Bozer mentions that they could use the cardboard from Riley’s moving boxes. A seemingly innocent suggestion on the surface. If you don’t pay much attention to it, it goes right by without any fuss. 

However, at this point in canon, here’s what we know:

Bozer knows about Riley’s feelings for Mac

Riley has verbally told him that the reason she’s moving out is because of MacDesi. (Though her exact reasoning might’ve been intentionally misleading on her part)

So what does this mean? Well, to put it simply, Bozer is encouraging her to embrace living with Mac. To unpack her bags and stick around a while. A suggestion that Riley seems to ignore, as she says she’s dead set on getting out of there the second the pandemic allows.

Of course, the second she mentions moving, Mac picks back up with his beautiful Fauci song. Could it be that Himbo Barbie doesn’t like talking about Riley leaving? That’s open for interpretation.

Bonus points: Mac (incorrectly) blames Riley for not doing the dishes and it’s just adorably domestic. 

Getting Fed

Again, this scene is insignificant. The OG trio sit down to dinner, with Desi and Matty on video chat. It’s cute. 

But there is definitely something to be said for the way Riley looked at Mac when he mentioned having a private chat with Desi. My heart really went out to her there, because it must seem to her like she’s constantly being overlooked. 

After dinner, Riley and Bozer share a brief conversation. She expresses a disinterest in discussing her feelings, and reaffirms her choice to move out.

But Bozer reminds her that she’s only moving out so she “doesn’t have to watch Mac and Desi together,” and that “At this moment, it doesn’t seem like they are.”

This scene is important for two reasons: 

Bozer is clearly more supportive of MacRiley, which makes him honorary ship captain (as far as I’m concerned). 

it reaffirms the fact that her feelings are still very real, no matter how hard the lady doth protest.

Kitchen Floor Confessional

You all know this one from promo. After a tense conversation with Bozer, Mac heads inside to do the dishes. Riley, being the helpful person she is, offers to lend a hand. 

One thing leads to another, and the two wind up sitting on the floor by the sink, side by side. Just talking. The conversation comes to an end when Riley, who looks as though she wants to say something else, decides against it. (This “something else”, of course, would have been her confession). 

Cue the somewhat longing, emotionally charged staring from both parties. 

At this point, Mac says he’s going to go for a jog and abruptly leaves Riley alone in the kitchen. It’s clear by the look on her face that she feels, in some way, rejected. And the viewer is, at least for now, left to ponder why Mac seemed to cut the moment off so strangely. 

Though one could hypothesize that, just like Riley’s being packed and ready to go, Mac’s running has a little more to do with the emotional distancing than physical. 

The Parking Lot

Here we see Mac run off to speak to Desi. A scene I will not discuss at length, because the idea of playing footsie makes me cringe in the deepest recesses of my soul.

A little ways away, Bozer asks Riley if she told Mac about her feelings. She tells him she didn’t and that she’s glad, because she doesn’t want to be the thing that comes between them and their “happiness” (happiness is in quotes here because it seems like “anger” and “annoyance” are more common for them).

The dialogue in and of itself is not what I want to focus on here though. It’s the way the scene is framed.

Outside of the close-up shots for MacDesi’s conversation, much of the camera angles are from Riley’s perspective. Distant. Detached. The standpoint of an outsider looking in—of a girl watching the man she cares about being happy with someone else. 

The camerawork here makes this more of a Riley-centric moment than a MacDesi one.

Which is important because, from a narrative standpoint, there is no reason to frame it that way unless her emotions are going to be focal later on. This entire exchange implies that, in some way, Riley’s feelings are, were, and will be important to the plot. 

Yay for directorial story telling. 

A Moment

What to say about this scene? 

Mac has a heart to heart with Bozer and promises to be more present in his life. Bozer thanks him and begs him to finally clean the damn kitchen.

And agreeing, Mac turns away to do just that. Only, he stops himself short and tells Bozer he has one more thing he’d like to discuss.

The quote went as follows: “Kay, so...in the kitchen here a couple nights ago with Riley, there was a, uh...I don’t know, a moment.”

As I’m sure every MacRiley knows, him acknowledging that scene as a legitimate moment between them was incredibly unexpected. They’ve arguably had “moments” before, but only Riley ever seemed to notice them. Mac never mentioned having feelings, or even seemed like he might be aware of them.

This scene is the first time we’ve ever had direct confirmation that he feels—at least, in some capacity—the same way. 

To make it even better, this scene happens directly after MacDesi’s footsie match in the parking lot. Which means that, even when he’s got positive momentum with Desi, he’s still got Riley on his mind. 

Side note: I personally think this explains his behavior in 5x03. He doesn’t see Riley reciprocating, and he’s probably incredibly worried about screwing up all their history—an issue he doesn’t have with Desi, since they didn’t have much of a friendship first. 

So he throws himself back into that in an attempt to smother his feelings. Will it work? Only time will tell.

Ending

After cleaning up the kitchen, Mac picks up the piece of glass he’d left on the floor and, surprise surprise, finally gets an idea for his ventilator. Some fans say this is Riley’s influence, which I can honestly see. 

Especially given the quote Mac says at the end:

“When the world feels like it’s so turned upside down that it’s impossible to fix, it helps to look at things from a different angle. Because no matter how broken something appears—whether its your grumpy neighbor, your terrified best friend, your estranged girlfriend, or a shard of glass—that broken thing could inspire something new...Maybe even something better than before.”

I believe this is a direct foreshadow to MacRiley. Somehow, his fractured relationship with Desi will make him see what he COULD have with Riley. This “new angle” might even help him see that he’s better off as friends with Desi (something new), and that he might be happier in a relationship with Riley (something better).

And if you still don’t buy that, well...the scene transition seems pretty damning. 

There was absolutely no reason the camera couldn’t have faded to Bozer. Or to a shot of all three of them. This feels incredibly intentional, no?

In Conclusion

“Codex Adrenaline” and “Quarantine Cabin Fever” are cop-outs. Riley still likes Mac. Mac now likes Riley. And we are 100% going to see more development on that front. So is this a win?

I think so.

But I wanna hear from y’all. What did you like about this episode? What did you hate? Do you feel like they’re leading up to something bigger for MacRiley?

I’d love to hear y’alls thoughts. 

[ghost-of-winters-past]

lost in outer space

summary: When Odins‘ death opened up the gates to hell, Thor, Loki and you ended up stranded on a strange planet with no way home. With Hela claiming the throne of Asgard and the prophesied Ragnarok, you and your brothers were left to fight for your survival on Sakaar while trying to come up with a plan to save everything you’ve ever known. But when Thor suddenly went missing, you couldn’t take the impending doom anymore and turn to Loki for comfort.

characters: Loki, fem!reader (siblings)

warnings/synopsis: during Thor Ragnarok (spoilers), slight mentions of death/loss and trauma, slight angst, one or two swear words, it gets fluffy though. This is you being comforted by your favourite brother. Requested by the wonderful @superwhoflarrow123 Thank you again for being so understanding why this took a little longer! I really hope you like it! (roughly 1.7k words)

The walls of your room were an ugly bright booger green. A futuristic bed with sort of retro patterned orange sheets was placed next to a floor to ceiling window overlooking the landscape of Sakaar. In the distance, trash was stacked up high enough to touch the clouds, and to your feet container like looking buildings were littering the planets‘ surface like thrown out cardboard boxes. The sky was a hazy storm grey, only a handful of brightly coloured air crafts and weirdly shaped skyscrapers breaking up the murky and metallic smelling air. This definitely was one of the less pretty planets you had ever been on. Granted you weren’t here because Sakaar had been your dream destination – up until your stranding here you had never even heard o fit – but because your secret evil sister took over your home planet. Your father having a secret fourth child probably was the most normal thing that had happened to your family so far though, that he locked her up in hell less so. Now that both of your parents were gone, you didn’t intend to make amends and play happy little family with Hela. She did try to kill you and your brothers after all and you felt like that didn’t really qualify for a second chance.

You didn’t know how long you had been tumbling through space like a plastic bag, only that when you landed face down in a pile of space waste, you were alone. You didn’t know where your brothers were or frankly where you happened to be, but after wandering through the sea of garbage for a while, you learned fast that you weren’t as welcome as you had hoped. You were electro-shocked, thrown into a funky looking aircraft and shipped off into imprisonment. At least that was what you were expecting. Instead, you were met with a weird guy in gold sparkly tunics and piercing eyes and only because he decided to keep you around as leverage, you were given a room and the chance to wash up.

It could have been between a couple of days and a week, you really had no clue, time felt weird here when you were attending one of the Grandmasters‘ lavish parties and news arrived that someone else had arrived. You were equally relieved and frustrated as you watched Loki walking into the room, head held high and about a dozen armed guards trailing behind him. At least he didn’t end up on the other side of the galaxy or even worse, dead and even though you were relieved that you wouldn’t be alone in this freak show anymore you could see it on his face, that he didn’t exactly come to your rescue. You had quickly realized what the Grandmaster did with most prisoners and then had to watch him circle your brother like a hunter its prey, already expecting to have to either fight or plea for Lokis life. But only for him to smirk at Loki and then turn around to the woman next to him saying, “He’s pretty, let’s keep him.”

Thor arrived two weeks later but didn’t seem to have the same luck as Loki and you did. He was put into a cell under the gladiator arena while you two needed to keep up appearances. It was almost impossible to get a chance to speak with him. Not only because you were physically not allowed to even go near his cell, but also because when Loki used his magic to visit him he didn’t seem very cooperative.  And so the two of you had no choice but to leave him to fight his way out – as usual – while you started to forge a plan.

Everything seemed to go well all things considered. Loki weaselled his way into the Grandmasters‘ trusted circle, trying to find out more about how to leave the planet, while you mentally connected with Heimdall back home. Hela was wracking havoc raising an undead army and threatening to kill everyone who got in her way and you knew you were running out of time. Knowing that at least you weren’t alone, that at least for once in many years you and your brother all were in one place was your only solace.

“What do you mean with: he’s gone?” “Lost. Vanished. Vaporized into thin air. Nowhere to be seen.” Mouth slightly agape with shock you couldn’t believe what Loki had just told you. “But we had a plan!” Your brother only shrugged and you could already feel a headache forming. Cursing under your breath you massaged your temples with your pointer fingers, trying to make sense of the situation. “So our dear brother got lost on a planet where all the lost things end up?” you had your eyes closed, fingers still rubbing circles into your skin and trying not to freak out. “It seems as if someone would be able to do that, it’s Thor,” Loki said. Your eyes shot upon and you let your hands fall to your sides. “Are you joking?” you snapped, stunned at how little concerned he seemed. “I worked out a deal with the Grandmaster to find him, but he also put that little Valkyrie on it. We have to find him first or I’m afraid he will end up somewhere far worse than the cells,” he explained. “I can’t believe this.” Shaking your head you let yourself plop down onto the edge of your bed. “It’s not like he’s dead,” Loki tried to console you but it did little to calm your nerves. In fact, it only added to the anger that had been building up ever since you landed on this damn planet. “No, Loki. I’m sure he’s not.” You stood up again and raiseed your head to meet him at eye-level. “But you know what? Him going missing is just the cherry on top of what I needed.” Loki was eyeing you warily, his almost bored gaze suddenly beginning to warm up a little. “Are you okay?” he suddenly asked with a gentle voice that almost brought you to tears. “No! I’m not fucking okay! Our father just died, granted he wasn’t my favourite parent and he could be an asshole at times, but he was our father! And as if that wasn’t enough we find out we have a secret diabolic demon sister who is head bend on getting her revenge on someone who's already dead!” you were screaming out the last part, the absurdity of the whole situation just kicking in. Loki looked like he wanted to say something, but you weren’t finished. “But wait, there’s more! We’re stranded on a planet we’ve never even heard of in over a thousand years of being alive and we neither have a space ship to escape nor our brother apparently, who, if I have to remind you, is the fucking heir to the fucking throne!”

You knew you were being unfair, Thor may have put the blame on Loki, but you knew, that all of you and especially your father were equally to blame. But in the end that wouldn’t help the situation so you didn’t try to start a discussion about whose fault this really was. Your chest was heaving and you felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders just getting all of this out, but you started to regret your harsh tone as soon you saw Lokis‘ face fall. “I know,” he said and suddenly wrapped his arms around you. Loki wasn’t a big hugger so this was very new but not unwelcome. “All of this is pure shit and I’m sorry you have to go through all of this. I’ll make it right, I promise, darling,” he said as he carefully rested his chin on top of your head. Great, now you really felt bad. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you mumbled and hid your face in the cold leather spanned over the expanse of his chest. Your voice was slightly muffled as you continued, enclosing your arms behind his back. “It’s not your fault. It’s just too much. Thor has gone off without us, we have no real way out of here and whether it’s Hela or Ragnarok, we’re gonna lose our home. I mean, why even try at this point?” “Don’t say that,” Loki argued, loosened the hug and held you at arm's length to look at your face, fingers slightly digging into the flesh of your upper arms. He could see the tears threatening to spill and put on a firm, but gentle face. “We can’t give up. That’s your home Hela is invading. We can fight her. We can win.” “How can you be so sure?” you croaked out, a salty tear finally rolling down your heated cheek. Loki smiled faintly, thumb brushing away another tear and his blue eyes full of determination. “We always win.” You tried to believe him, you really did but realistically, what were your chances against a whole army? “What would you do, if you were to give up? Stay here?” Loki tried a different approach and looked around the room in disgust. Just the thought alone of staying on this garbage dump made you shiver with revulsion. A small smile tugged at his lips. “We’re gonna find Thor, I promise. And then we’ll make right what has gone wrong and you never have to think about this place or Hela ever again, okay?” You took a deep breath, running the back of your hand over your cheeks to dry the wet skin. “Okay,” you then said, voice a little shaky but you were finally calming down again. Loki always had this effect on you. Even when you were kids, he would always comfort you when you were feeling angry or upset and you were glad that after everything that had happened in the last years, at least that hadn’t changed. “Okay,” he repeated and tugged you against his chest again. Your fingers curled into the leather, just to make sure, he wouldn’t disappear too. “Thank you, Loki,” you mumbled and closed your eyes, breathing in his familiar scent. Lokis hands were splayed out over your back when he leaned back a little and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.   “I love you, my darling sister.” And you knew, everything would be okay again. You would find Thor and then your little family would finally return home. Together.

[litttlesilkworm]

Chicken and Beets 

Dear Comrades,

Here is another entry for the Chernobyl New Year Challenge 2021: a recipe + a bit of a story to go with it. The story turned out more than a bit sad, I must confess 💚💛💜

This project shares a common ingredient with our delightful collaboration with @alyeen1 on Valoris-themed cocktail recipes - beets! Check out our cocktail post if you haven’t gotten a chance yet!

As @alyeen1​ has pointed out in the cocktail post, the idea with using beets comes from the fact that there is an untouched plate of boiled chicken and beets on Valery’s desk as mentioned in the Ep. 3 script:

We can, indeed, see the plate in the foreground in the frame below:

I wanted to imagine a little riff on this detail in a form of a scene that would take place later - in Moscow, not long after Boris and Valery come back from Chernobyl for good. It is New Year’s Eve, and Boris is having Valery over at his apartment to celebrate the arrival of 1987 together, just the two of them.

For the story and the recipe (and a picture of food), please click below!

Content warning: food/appetite, canon-consistent sad themes (”5 years”).

@shark-from-the-park @elenatria @drunkardonjunkyard @green-ann @johnlockismyreligion @borislegasov @owlboxes @seaweednpeanuts @attachedtofictionalpeople​ @gwinny3k @kylos-scarf​ @scarlettestar​ @the-jewish-marxist​ @cinemaocd​ @natasharedfox​ @ignalina-c0re​ @potter012​ @stellan-pip-69​ @art-is-a-malady @antonellachan4567 @hereliesnils​ @sunset-and-periwinkle​ @thegreenmeridian​ and everyone else!

“Something smells amazing, Borya,” Valery exclaims as he steps into Boris’ palatial apartment. He carefully sets two large white cardboard boxes, both tied with a string, and a canvas bag with bottles of champagne on the floor of Boris’ spacious hallway, and takes off his fur hat. 

Boris is wearing a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves, black trousers and a red checkered apron. The heat of the kitchen has given his face a very appealing kind of sheen, a few errant strands of gray hair have fallen on his forehead, and his smooth cheeks look flushed. He seems excited about something, as if he has a secret that he is itching to reveal - but has to hold off on it for some only known to him dramatic timing.

He looks so attractive that the sight of him quite literally takes Valery’s breath away.

In the very next moment, Boris dives for his lips with a precision and determination of a hunting hawk. The tone and pitch of Boris’ contented hum, the way he holds Valery, the way he runs his fingers through his ginger hair as it crackles with static electricity, the way his thumbs rub circles on Valery’s cheeks, rosy from the biting wind outside, all tell the same story. It is a happy story, Valery knows. The one about how much he missed Valery, and how grateful he is to have Valery’s love, and how pleased he is to greet him here in his warm home, on this New Year’s Eve, and how he has prepared a surprise, and how much he’d enjoyed the process of preparation, and how excited he is to reveal it.

They part eventually, smiling, breathing “happy-new-years” into each others’ mouths. 

Boris’ gaze falls on the packages Valery carefully carried from Yeliseevsky market down the iced-over sidewalks. 

“You’ve brought champagne, wonderful! And dessert-” 

“I couldn’t decide between eclairs and the Napoleon, so I got both,” Valery says shyly, feeling his face getting warm. In reality, he got both because both looked so tempting to him. He is the one with a sweet tooth.

“Remember the box of frozen eclairs I found in the freezer at the restaurant at Polissya?” smiles Boris.

Valery nods enthusiastically. A good memory.

“It was the first thing I’ve seen you eat at Chernobyl like you actually had an appetite! It was a relief to see you excited about food. Do you remember what they used to feed us from the mobile kitchen?” Boris asks as he helps Valery out of his coat, shaking the snow off it. 

“Yes,” Valery says with a bit of dramatic shudder. They are like two soldiers reminiscing about the shared misery of a foxhole, Boris and him. “Pikalov’s unit has the best chemists and engineers in the Soviet Union - but not exactly the best cooks.”

Boris laughs heartily in agreement. “Remember what they used to serve most often?”

“Hmmm?” Valery cocks his head to the side and looks at Boris quizzically. “Boiled chicken and beets?”

“Right!” exclaims Boris. “Chicken that tasted like cotton balls.”

“And the beets! They must’ve boiled them all afternoon - they hardly had any color left in them,” adds Valery.

“You barely touched that food anyway. I was worried you will start wasting away. You would have a few bites if me or Nikolai were eating with you but if you were left alone with your calculations - forget it...” Boris waves his hand. 

“That’s not true!” Valery exclaims, indignant. “I ate what everyone else was eating!”

“You know, after you told me that isotopes don’t go into butter, I’ve taken to buying slabs of butter from the few villagers who had stayed behind. I would put buttered bread on your plate as you worked late into the night in your corner of the suite. You would finish your piece without noticing it and then I would slip you another one. After I fed you five or six of those I could be content and go read my Pravda.”

The revelation catches Valery completely off guard - he recalls the buttered bread, yes, but he truly, honestly never realized that Boris had been slipping him an entire daily calories’ worth at nighttime. All he remembers is his papers, his calculator, his logarithmic ruler, his aching neck and a constant crushing sense of dread that he might be completely, irredeemably wrong with his projections.

“I know you’ve never noticed,” Boris tilts his head and looks at him softly, crinkles gathering around his laughing eyes. He reaches to squeeze somewhat disoriented Valery’s shoulder, shaking the younger man back and forth gently. “But I knew that I got you fed, and that was good enough for me.”

Something beautiful and sad rises inside Valery and spills into a mist of tears in his eyes. It’s not what he wanted or expected of himself this evening, but he can’t help it.

A tinny voice deep inside him, like a small radio hidden under a thick pillow, scrapes at him in its metallic, nagging cadence - this won’t last, you fool. This - all of this - won’t last. You’ve seen his radiospectrogram, you’ve seen yours. Your bones are chock-full of strontium, both of you. Your leukocyte count is starting to look bad. He’s got that new cough whenever he lies down, and it doesn’t seem to go away. 

Every time Valery hears that cough is like a razor to his heart. 

“Please don’t take him,” he thinks now as he lies awake during oh-so-common for him sleepless nights, with his face pressed to Boris’ broad back, listening to the soft sound of his breath - the amazing sound of life that is dearer to him than his own. 

“Please don’t take him,” he says to someone he doesn’t know how to talk to, to something he isn’t sure exists beyond the electrons orbiting the clumps of protons and neutrons. Beyond the quantum uncertainty. Beyond the cosmic void. 

After he knew the cough was here to stay, he seemed to have adjusted his nighttime bargain. “Please don’t take him first.” 

The vision of Boris in his red apron blurs and trembles in Valery’s eyes, sliding slightly sideways and downwards. He blinks the veil of tears away, wiping his eyes with his small hand so he could see his love clearly again.

“You look so handsome tonight, Borya. And I love you so much,” Valery says softly, a wet sound escaping his throat. “So much.”

“Valera,” Boris wraps his arms around him in an attempt to quiet whichever emotion is roiling his lover, grumbling softly near his ear, “do you know what it meant for me to take care of you in the midst of all that... madness? It kept me together, too, you know - loving you. And you look amazing in blue.” 

Boris’ hands slide down to stroke Valery’s plump sides clad in a soft blue sweater vest as he says that.

"Thank you,” Valery closes his eyes and breathes, soaking in the comfort of Boris’ touch.

“I want to dance with you later tonight,” he mumbles into Boris’ shirt. 

“Yeah,” Boris answers softly into his hair. “Yeah, that would be good.”

Boris’ arm is around Valery as he leads him into the living room, where a holiday table is set next to an enormous New Year’s tree adorned with a red star and coated generously with silver tinsel.

Valery has been saving space in his belly all day and is now finding himself, in fact, very, very hungry.

As Boris shuttles back and forth between the living room and the kitchen with bowls and serving platters, Valery fusses with the wires of the champagne bottle, looking worriedly at the chandelier. 

“I’ve got Olivier salad, red caviar sandwiches, oh! - pickled mushrooms, so good,” Boris recites proudly. “And for the main course... you wouldn’t mind if we had chicken and beets tonight, would you? Like in the old times?” 

He pauses for a proper dramatic effect. The look of momentary dismay on Valery’s face must be so comical that it makes the older man laugh out loud. 

“Don’t worry, love - it’s the good kind. This one you wouldn’t want to pass up,” says Boris, beaming, and proceeds to fill Valery’s plate. “Eat, Valera, eat.” 

The winter winds are wailing hard outside, but here in the warm living room the air is filled with the clinking of cutlery and Valery’s delighted humming as he devours Boris’ creation. Even the nagging metallic voice in Valery’s head seems to have quieted down to an indecipherable murmur, as if tucked away behind a thick wall somewhere. Really, he can barely hear it at all.

                                                          * * *

Recipe: Chicken Delmonico + Warm Beet Salad with Pears, Gorgonzola Cheese and Walnuts

For the chicken, I followed Emeril Lagasse’s excellent Chicken Delmonico recipe exactly (just the chicken, not the mushroom part), except that I didn’t make my own spice mix the way he suggests, but instead combined store-bought cajun spice mix with salt in a 5:1 ratio.

The key to this recipe is to be generous with the seasoning!

For the beet salad, I did the following:

Ingredients:

6 medium-sized beets

2 large ripe pears

⅔ of a cup of walnut halves and pieces 

⅔ of a cup of Gorgonzola cheese crumbs

Extra-virgin olive oil

Lemon juice

Salt and pepper

1. Scrub the beets with a brush, rub with olive oil and wrap in foil. Roast in a 350 F (175 C) oven for 40 min, then let them cool until you can comfortably handle them. Peel the beets and chop them into ½ inch-thick slices, set aside.

2. Toast walnuts in a 350 F oven for 6-7 minutes, chop, set aside.

3. Peel and chop the pears into slices similar in size to your beet slices.

4. In a large mixing bowl, combine beet and pear slices, toasted walnuts and Gorgonzola. Add olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper to taste, and mix well. Enjoy!

[jlalafics]

PLEASE DO that roommates idea 2 where they try to find something in the trash!!!!!

I hope you enjoy, Anon. I was feeling a little fluffy and soft so I went with it. Happy Reading!

_____

Summary: Sometimes, the simplest things hold the biggest memories. Post-Mockingjay. From Katniss’ and Buttercup’s POV.

Ribbon

It is time to clean house.

I tell myself that as I stare into what was Prim’s bedroom. It stands frozen in time, a shrine that was never meant to be. There’s still an imprint of her on the quilt that rests on the empty bed. I can almost see her there, legs curled and looking over her book of medicinal plants and herbs.

She would’ve turned 15 this year.

Breathe.

Tightening my grip on the cardboard box in my hand, I step carefully into the room, trying to hold it all in and telling myself that this is for the best.

“You okay?” Peeta is standing in the doorway, smelling of sugar and drenched in flour. I raise a brow at his appearance and he smiles. “A certain favorite cat of yours decided that he wanted to help with the welcome loaves.”

“The little jerk,” I quip, trying to lift my sinking mood. “I should’ve skinned him when I had the chance.” I go to Prim’s desk, setting the box down. The whitewood desk is caked in dust and I looked to the discarded pencil…the pile of books…the papers with notes written in her delicate cursive…

“I know this isn’t going to be easy.” Peeta is suddenly standing beside me, concern in those blue eyes. “I know that you said you didn’t need help, but I’m here if you just need someone to just…be.”

I turn to him. “What about the welcome loaves?”

“I have two working legs—one and a half, actually—and I have great nose for burnt bread,” Peeta tells me. “I can run down, if needed. Also, I kind of suckered you into doing this.”

Peeta is referring to the welcome packages that we volunteered to work on for the new citizens of District 12. The town is just getting back to its original state as we had to build from the ground up. Our winnings have provided the supplies to build the general store, the grocer, a few new homes in what used to be the Seam, and the new Mellark Bakery.

We have five new families coming to District 12. Two of them have girls that are around Prim’s age…or the age she was. My sister’s closet is full of clothes she never got to wear and the books on the desk look like they are unopened.

She barely got to enjoy what I could give her before the bombs came and tore her from new home.

“I think I need to do this myself.” Peeta nods in understanding, placing his hand on my shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. I place my hand over his, avoiding his gaze. He doesn’t need to see how flush I am. “But maybe you could just stay in the doorway? In case?”

“Of course.”

I make my way around the room, taking the books and placing them in the box for the general store. I fold up the bedsheets so they can be laundered then given to one of the families. I go through her closet and drawers, pulling out clothes for the girls though I stop when the faint scent of Prim hits my nostrils.

Peeta is here immediately, arms reaching around to pull my back against his chest. After living with me for almost a year, he knows that I prefer that no one see me cry. Instead, he just takes slow, solid breaths as the tears roll down my face. He waits as my breaths shudder through my quiet sobs.

When I am done, Peeta steps back and lets me continue.

We are seamless when it comes to these small hours; these pockets of time that are so painful that we can barely breathe. He knows when to retreat and I know when to step up if needed.

Soon I am finished. The clothes are packed and Peeta has brought a bag for trash. Soon, there is only the vanity where Prim got ready for the day. Where she decided to go from two braids to one. Where she watched the remnants of her childhood fade and saw the bloom of womanhood begin.

I throw out the bar of soap, too old for use. I store her hairbrushes away to send to my mother—she would appreciate them.

The one thing I keep is a single white ribbon.

That I set aside for myself.

“I’m done,” I tell him wearily.

Peeta reaches to squeeze my hand.

“Let’s go have some tea.”

I nod and my nostrils catch something sharp in the air.

“Tea will go well with burnt bread,” I tell him.

Peeta nods cheerfully…until he realizes what I just said.

He rushes down the hallway and I laugh—a rarity in this household—as he attempts to save his scorched loaves.

I look around the empty bedroom and with a final sigh, I close the door behind me.

“I miss you, Prim,” I whisper into the air.

Then, I join Peeta downstairs.

++++++

I peek out of the corner; the dark-haired one is heading downstairs to her mate. The house smells like fire and flour; if only Yellow Head let me help him.

Now, we’ll all have burnt bread for dinner.

Padding down the hallway, I press my paw to the door and then butt it with my head. She didn’t close it properly, too distracted by sadness to notice that the door didn’t click.

When I step inside, I’m shocked to discover the room is spotless. Little Flower’s bed is empty, there are no clothes for me to burrow myself into…

Jumping into her mattress, I look around trying to find traces of her. Sometimes, I can still remember how she used to cuddle against me and burrow her face against my fur. Dark Hair tells me that she has gone away. It makes me sad to think that she’s left me behind.

I was good companion, wasn’t I?

Little Flower has left Dark Hair, too.

Sometimes, I hear her crying in the night, calling out my owner’s name: Prim…Prim…

On those nights, I go to her…pass her mate’s room (it’s strange that they do not sleep together—how will they breed?) and join her in her bed. She has a spot ready for me, right in the crook of her legs.

I lay my head down and she sleeps.

The next day, we pretend it never happened.

Dark Hair and I are not the affectionate types.

My eyes and nose catch it at once—it’s her! Little Flower!

Hopping off the bed, I go to the table with the mirror and spot the ribbon immediately.

I remember Little Flower playing with me…whirling the ribbon around as I try to capture it…

Immediately, it’s in my mouth and I am prancing to my little spot in this dusty home.

I’ll keep it safe until Little Flower comes home.

++++++

Where is it?

I look behind the vanity and then on the floor beneath it. The door was open when I came in since Peeta had taken the clothes and boxes to town. He had also taken out the trash bags we collected—

“Oh!”

I’m already running down the stairs and out the door to where our trash cans are. There are three large bags of things we’ve collected around the house. I immediately go to the bags, falling to my knees and tearing them open.

It’s like a needle in a haystack as I search through the knickknacks and papers of the first bag. It isn’t there and I feel something in my chest begin to rise. Gulping in another breath, I go for the second bag—

“What are you doing?”

I look up to find Haymitch and Peeta standing in above me.

“I can’t find it,” I tell them. “I left it in her room…” My gaze goes to Peeta. “Did you see it this morning? The white ribbon?”

Peeta stops for a moment, his gaze searching as he tries to recollect.

Finally, he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he tells me. “I don’t remember if it was there.”

Then, Peeta is kneeling next to me and opening the next bag, tearing through, and removing what looks like rotting fruit.

Haymitch scowls at the smell. “I’m going inside your place to look…what am I looking for?”

My eyes water at the stench…at least, I think it’s just the stench.

“A white hair ribbon,” I sniffle pathetically. “It was in Prim’s room yesterday and now it’s gone.”

Our mentor nods before disappearing into our house to search the rest of the place.

I’m aware of Peeta’s stare at the crack in my voice as I find nothing in the second bag.

He continues looking through his bag, arm deep inside as he pulls out the trash. The grey sweater he wears is now stained and reeks of old food. The tan slacks he wears have two mud spots as he kneels next to me.

“We’ll find it,” Peeta assures me as he stands up and lifts the lid of our metal garbage can. “Don’t worry, okay? These aren’t the only spots to look.”

Something hard settles in my stomach as I find that the bag I’m searching does not contain the ribbon.

Peeta closes the lid and then looks to me. “I’m sorry. I don’t see it here either.”

Though my legs feel like jelly, I straighten up to stand.

Part of me, however, feels like I’ve lost her all over again.

“Peeta—” He stops and turns to me, eyes full of worry. “—it’s gone.”

“No,” he replies adamantly. “It can’t have just disappeared!”

I shake my head. “It’s fine. I’m just going to go take a walk, okay?”

“Katniss—" His cheek is streaked with dirt. “There are other places in the house.”

Reaching, I brush the bit of dirt away from his face. “You’ve ruined a perfectly good shirt and pants.”

“I don’t care about my clothes,” he tells me. “I care about you and that ribbon is important to you—”

“I’m going to take a walk,” I say. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back by sundown.”

As a sob wells up, I turn and head out of Victors’ Village.

++++++

The house is a mess.

Old Grey came tearing through the house and I quickly ran to hide. Sometimes, when his scent is strong, he starts to act strange. Once, he almost fell on top of me. Thankfully, Yellow Head caught me in time.

Speaking of Yellow Head, he has torn apart our house, searching for something. Every chair has been lifted and looked under, all the little metal cans where they throw away dirt and food have been searched through and both he and Old Grey looked through Little Flower’s room once more.

I have no idea what for, but Dark Hair will be very upset about the mess.

“We’ve searched everywhere,” Yellow Head tells the Old Grey. “I’ve never seen her so upset. It’s the one thing that she kept from Prim’s room.”

“I understand, Peeta,” Old Grey replies kindly—a rare tone for him. “You’ve done everything you could.”

“She’s going to regret letting me stay here.” Yellow Head is sitting on the couch as I hide behind an upturned chair. “I’m the one who pushed for us to do this whole Welcome Wagon thing. She was perfectly fine with leaving everything as it was—”

“She has to move on,” the other man argues. “Don’t go blaming yourself for trying to bring some change into your lives. Katniss needs it; she’s been living with too many ghosts…all of us have.”

“I know,” Yellow Head mutters to himself. “I’m trying very hard not to be a burden on her.”

“You’re not a burden,” Old Grey assures him. “You care for her and want her to be happy. Though you’ve given yourself a mighty task taking on The Mockingjay.”

“It’s worth it because it’s her.”

Poor Yellow Head—maybe I can give him something from my basket.

Stepping towards him, I purr and rub along his ankle to get his attention. He noticed immediately, patting my head and scratching that spot behind my ear.

“Hey Buttercup,” he greets me. “We haven’t even fed you, have we?”

I circle his legs in affirmation.

“Looks like he has more than enough stuffing,” Old Grey say with a rough laugh.

I hiss at him immediately.

“Don’t tease the cat. Let’s get you fed,” Yellow Head replies. Standing, he goes to the kitchen and I trail after him. My bowl is right by the sink and next to my treasure spot. I wait patiently as the man prepares a simple dinner of rice and chicken. “I’m sorry it’s leftovers. I haven’t had a chance to even think about dinner.”

He places the bowl in front of me and I eat eagerly.

“That ribbon meant a lot to Katniss.” Yellow Head pulls out a chair for himself as he watches me. “Worst of all, I know she won’t tell me why it’s important.”

I meow in response. Dark Hair is too sad over Little Flower to see what’s in front of her.

Her mate.

“You have any ideas on how to make her happy?”

Looking up from my bowl, I look to the man and decide to show him my treasures. Maybe he can find something for Dark Hair so she doesn’t disappear and come back smelling like tears. I meow at him to follow and hop over to my little space next to the sink.

Yellow Head smiles as he stands to follow.

“What do you have here?” He kneels next my little alcove and I proudly present him with the trinkets I’ve collected since we moved to this new house. The man looks inside carefully exploring my things. A feather from the first wild turkey that Dark Hair caught…bark from our old home…a bar of soap that smells of Little Flower…a picture of Dark Hair and Yellow Head that Little Flower had on her desk—

“Where did you get this?” Yellow Head asks as he takes it out. “A promotional photo from The Victory Tour…Katniss sure does look pretty…I much prefer as she is though.”

That is a sign of a true mate.

Only someone who absolutely loves would see beauty in scowling Dark Hair.

“Oh my God…” Yellow Head pulls out my latest find, his blue eyes full of shock. “…you had the ribbon?”

I meow, bowing my head.

Of course, I do. It belongs to Little Flower.

“Katniss has been looking all over for this,” Yellow Head says. He looks to me, his blue eyes sad. “You must miss Prim, too.” His hand reaches to the to top of my head, caressing gently. “I’m sure I can find something else. Maybe a blanket of Prim’s? In exchange for the ribbon?”

A blanket with Little Flower’s scent…it will be like she’s still holding me.

I acquiesced with another nod of my head.

“Well, let’s clean up and I’ll look through the sheets that we still have…”

Yellow Head walks off in happiness while I remain in the kitchen.

There is no way I’m cleaning his mess.

++++++

Stepping onto the porch, I wearily sit down on the porch bench and look out at the orange sky. After leaving Peeta behind, I stomped childishly into the forest, lamenting Prim’s ribbon and smelling of trash before falling asleep against a tree.

My dreams are a mixture of my old life and new life…I can hear my Dad’s laugh…the sound of my Mom preparing healing herbs in our old kitchen…Prim singing to herself…they intermix with the sound of Haymitch’s geese…of our Mentor’s creaky door as he steps onto his porch for a quiet day…of Peeta’s uneven gait as he tries not to wake me as he passes my bedroom…

When I awoke, my face was wet.

I hear Peeta step onto the porch, sitting next to me as I look up at the streaks for the sunset. This is his favorite time of day and he loves to end the day with a cup of tea.

I smell the lemon scent from his mug immediately.

“I brought one for you, too,” Peeta says as he presents the thick mug to me.

“Thank you.” I take the mug and move to give him room on the porch bench. “I’m sorry I left you to clean up the mess.”

“It’s okay,” he assures me. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Do I ever really want to talk about it?” I retort before sitting back. “My Dad gave that ribbon to my mother. She would gather it underneath her hair and make a bow on top then kind of move it, so it looked like a headband. My mom stopped wearing it that way when he died but I always thought her hair looked so pretty that way. She gave it to me on my first reaping day; used it to tie my braid—in hopes that I wouldn’t be picked. On Prim’s first reaping day, I gave it to her for good luck.”

“And she got picked,” Peeta says, smiling wryly. “And the rest is history.”

I can’t help but snort. “For the books.” I take another sip of my tea. “Before the Rebellion, Prim started wearing the ribbon, and she’d tie her hair in a single braid. I remember thinking when we came home, ‘When did two braids become one?’ I missed her grow up—and then I was gone again for the Victory Tour…and everything after. Then, she was gone!” I turned to his kind stare, the sunset highlighting the natural handsomeness of Peeta. “To me, that ribbon was the only thing I had of the three of them and something I could pass down—”

After all this time, the thought of children doesn’t sour my expression.

Instead it fills me with the hope of having been able to give my child something from my family.

“Thank you for telling me.” Peeta places his cup down on the armrest. “I know that it wasn’t easy for you.”

I find myself smiling. “It wasn’t.”

With Peeta, however, smiling becomes a little easier.

“I’m going to ask you to do something for me that I know is uncomfortable,” he says. “Close your eyes.”

I raise a brow, but he gives me smile so delightfully sweet that I can do nothing but indulge him.

I feel his hands against my scalp, his fingers between my locks as he gathers my hair. A frisson of pleasure gathers in my stomach and I wait eagerly for what happens next.

Then, I feel it; the familiar motion of my hair being divided and then being crossed.

Peeta is braiding my hair.

My whole body goes lax at the motion and it takes me to a memory of my father’s clumsy hands trying to do the same thing. I hear my childish giggles because such a magnanimous man is unable to do a simple braid.

Peeta, however, brings a different kind of memory…one of us on the Victory Train lying next to one another…of him unraveling my braid…and of my stomach twisting in hunger.

“There.” His breath is against my ear and I steel myself against the rivulets of long-abandoned desire rushing to my center. “Open your eyes.”

My hair is perfectly braided and is tied with a single white ribbon—Prim’s ribbon.

“Where did you find it?” I cry out, my fingers going to precious piece.

“Buttercup,” he explains. “Somehow, he got into the room…I think he misses Prim, too.”

“Stupid cat.” My smile is so wide that I can feel the tears escaping and rolling onto my cheeks. “Should’ve killed him when I had the chance.”

“You couldn’t get rid of him anymore than you could get rid of me.”

Peeta’s fingers reach for my braid, touching its tip tenderly and my breath catches at the simple motion. My hand covers his and he gasps into the warm air.

“There’s a little bit of sunset left,” Peeta tells me, his eyes on me. “Let’s wait until it’s gone.”

I nod. “We have the time.” Our hands are still joined along my braid. “But first—”

Leaning forward, I capture his lips in mine, pressing gently until he responds and pulls me close, so close I can feel the rapid beating of his heart. The fire between us begins to swell as he tips to slant his mouth over my own and I feel the rough brush against my tongue.

It is dark when we finally move apart.

“I wanted to ask you something.” Peeta’s eyes are a lovely hue in the night light, a warm indigo that makes me feel breathless. “This weekend, we’re having the welcome party for the new citizens…would you like to come with me?”

I am already going; it’s what is expected from the District 12 Victors. However, this is different.

Because if I accept, we won’t be going as just roommates.

I’ll be going as Peeta’s date.

“Okay.”

We stay on the porch late into the night.

++++++

“This is very tight,” Dark Hair mutters as she steps into her room in her dress. “Peach…well, Effie says that it’s kind of like orange.” She is fussing with herself more than usual, her eyes on her reflection. “Hair up or down?” Dark Hair turns to me. “What do you think?”

I meow at her. I’m a cat—why should I care? As long as you put food in my bowl, I could care less.

However, the look on her face reminds me of Little Flower and I find myself jump off her bed to help. I move my tail against her ankles, pushing my nose to get her to look at the top of her dresser.

“What are you doing?” she asks with a smile.

I continue to prod at her until she is angled in the direction of the ribbon laying on top.

Her eyes go to the white ribbon and she takes it carefully before bringing it underneath her long hair. Dark hair takes the two ends and makes nice knot before moving the tied end to hide it. Now it looks like a single white strip, holding her hair.

She looks different, not unpleasantly different—there’s a glow on her cheeks and she smiles a lot more, especially around Yellow Head.

“Thanks,” she tells me before opening the door to head out.

I follow her down the hallway, her sandals clicking against the floor.

Then, right before getting to the foot of the stairs, Dark Hair takes a deep breath and turns to me.

“You can sleep on my bed tonight, Buttercup,” she says quietly before heading down the stair.

I peek from the behind the wall and see Yellow Head at the bottom of the stairs. When they are finally next to one another, I watch him take Dark Hair’s hand.

“You’re beautiful,” he says tenderly, reaching to single tendril. “I like your hair.”

She gestures at the green sweater and navy slacks he wears. “Thanks…you look really nice.”

They are shy and scared, but beneath it all, I see the stirrings of love.

With enough time, they will realize that they are mates.

They leave for the night and I patter off to her room, settling on a fluffy pillow for a nap.

When I wake up, it is morning and except for myself, no one else occupies the bed.

Heading down the hallway, I follow the smell of the forest and find her immediately.

She is asleep with Yellow Head, her head resting on his bare chest.

Maybe I will get another Little Flower sooner than I think.

I’m very partial to the name Daisy.

FIN.

[yummyinmytwistedtummy]

Commission: Idia x Oc

Alright kids I have been working on this one for a little while now and I really hope ya’ll enjoy it. This work was commissioned by a friend who wishes to remain anonymous but they came up with the OC (Talia) and idea. I had lots of fun writing this! 

Tags: soft vore, oral vore, safe vore, accidental vore, stuffing kink, belly kink, burp kink

   Talia giggled at the look on her boyfriend's face. His eyes were wide with slight disbelief and surprise, and his lips quirked up to create an excited smile. The takeout bags that she had carried in seemed to draw his interest almost immediately after he laid eyes on them. She soon found out why when a loud grumble emitted from his stomach, making his face flush with embarrassment. He tried to ignore his noisy stomach by asking her what was in the bags. Talia set the bags down and took out a few containers of take out. She always went overboard when it came to buying food for her boyfriend who had a nasty (not really though) habit of stuffing himself to the brim. 

  “How’s it going?” Talia asked calmly. “I’m great actually. My guild just reached the next map and we leveled up again!” Idia always became more open when talking about his games. It was cute to see him light up so Talia would let him ramble for hours about his games even if she didn’t understand them. She listened to him talk while pulling out the takeout boxes and organized everything so it was easy to reach but wouldn’t fall off the bed. Idia trailed off as his stomach let out another loud gurgle, insisting that he fill it now. He smiled shyly and pulled the box of cheese and chicken quesadillas closer to him. Talia snatched one to munch on when he first opened the box and received a fake glare from the introverted teen. She ate her meal quickly, hoping that if she did she would get to watch her boyfriend chow down afterwards.

   The takeout she had ordered had not been able to fit in one bag but came in three as there was enough to feed a family of six comfortably for nearly half a week of dinners. Six containers of quesadillas filled with gooey cheese and well seasoned chicken took up one bag which was seated closest to the gamer. The next bag contained two boxes of tacos, four hardshell in each, stuffed with beef, lettuce, beans, chicken, guacamole and topped with sour cream, cheese, and cilantro. This bag also held two large bowls with plastic lids. They had rice and beans inside with sides of sour cream. The last bag had two cardboard boxes each with a well stuffed burrito inside. To top it all off she had also bought three bottles of sprite and a box of ten churros.

   As a nonhuman it was easier for Idia to down almost three times as much food as the average growing teenage boy. The fact that his body ran really hot only helped since most of the food was melted as soon as it landed in his gut anyways. When Talia finished her meal she attempted to distract herself futilely with cleaning up her dishes.

   It was hard not to glance over as Idia picked up the first quesadilla and held it up to his mouth. He opened wide and took half the large triangle in one bite. Cheese stretched from where he bit so he stuck his tongue out to maneuver the access goods into his mouth. He chewed a bit and swallowed, a large lump protruding from his neck, before cramming the rest of the piece into his mouth and reaching for another.  

   She watched with rapt attention as her boyfriend continued to down each cheesy triangle until there were only 3 boxes of them left. Her eyes widened as her boyfriend lifted 3 pieces stacked on eachother, folded them and all but stuffed them in his mouth before swallowing noisily. His stomach gurgled in greeting the new mass of food as Idia caught his breath. Soon he was reaching for the next three and ate them in the same fashion.

   He grunted and rubbed his neck as he finished off the last few quesadillas and reached for the bag with the sodas in it and pulled out the first bottle. It hissed as he popped the cap off and foamed as he tipped it back and guzzled the first half. The gamer pulled the rim from his lips and gasped, making a face of slight pain. 

   Another side effect of Idia’s intense body heat meant that liquids were nearly always turned into steam as soon as they reached his stomach. Apparently he could absorb all the H2O he needed from the steam in his belly but with things like soda since there was virtually no health benefit they simply just filled him up with air. 

   Talia always enjoyed this part about him because even after he had stopped drinking the fizzy liquid his stomach would continue to bloat and expand as the soda was turned into a gas. He overestimated how much he could drink because of this and often ended up with a painful gut that’s only remedy was to release all of the air. Idia bit his lip and pressed a hand against his hidden but also noticeably distended stomach before letting out a few thick belches.

“UUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRP!”

“HHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEUUUUUU-AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUURRLP!”

“GRUUUUUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRUUUUURRP!!”

   Each one was relatively long and loud but they were nothing compared to what Idia could produce and has produced after a full stuffing. Still The blonde squirmed in her seat and made a small squeak of excitement when they came to an end. “Aahh, uurf. Sorry about that.” Idia said as he pulled the boxes of burritos towards him and popped the first one open. Talia blushed at the crass behavior her boyfriend only ever let out when he was eating.

  It was then that Talia remembered the box of chocolates that she was given as a makeup gift for Floyd bumping into her and ruining her latest science project. The box was filled with an assortment of different kinds of truffles all decorated elegantly. They looked delicious but she couldn’t help but be suspicious. Azul had said they were a “special kind of treat” after all and with those three she never knew whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

   Idia paused his eating and looked up at her before swallowing thickly and pointing at the box of truffles. “What are those?” Talia chuckled softly at her boyfriend’s sweet tooth made an appearance once again. “They were a gift from the Octavinelle boys because Floyd accidentally ruined my science project.”

“The one Mr Crewel gave out?”

“Yeah.”  

“Oof” he cringed at the thought of having to redo that assignment but at least Talia had gotten some candy out of it. “So can I have some?” He said as innocently as possible while leaning over to get a better look. She rolled her eyes playfully, “Only if you finish dinner first. I didn’t spend my hard earned money on this for you to skip straight to dessert again.” Idia sat back up and began wolfing down more food faster than before. 

   Talia smiled shyly as she felt a blush creep up onto her face. Why did she find it hot when he ate? He was just picking up the first bottle of soda when Talia decided to try a truffle that looked particularly good. She bit into it and moaned at the flavor. Creamy chocolate mixed with a dark cherry with a hint of bitterness swirled around in her mouth. Idia looked over when he heard her and blushed at the look of bliss on her face. Now he really wanted one.

   He frowned and pouted a bit before deciding to regain her attention with something that always worked quite well. He reached over and grabbed a two liter and smirked before twisting the cap off and noticed Talia’s flinch of acknowledgement when she heard the familiar hiss.

   Tipping the soda bottle back, Idia made sure to gulp down the soda noisily to grab her attention. Talia looked up and swallowed before biting her lip as she watched the amount of soda in the bottle dwindle at an insane rate. The bottle crinkled and sucked inwards as Idia drained the last few drops before he pulled it from his lips and placed it back on the bed. 

A long rumbling belch ripped past his lips and filled the room with the smell of his mexican dinner. He pressed a hand against his now fairly large gut to help press more of the eruction out. 

“BWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRP!!!”

“Haaah… oooh… That was pretty good…” He panted to get his breath back and reached over to the first box of tacos. Talia shifted as she watched him grin lazily at the next taco and open up to bite through the stuffed shell. She knew her face was a blazing red after the display of gluttony and shamelessness, but couldn’t bring herself to care as Idia crammed another taco past his blue lips, making his cheeks bulge and stretch to accommodate the quantity of food.

   She could have watched him eat all night imagining herself being the one he pushed into that dark, slimy chasm, but it seemed life had other plans. A strange feeling suddenly shot up one of her arms. She flinched and rubbed at it, but the feeling wouldn’t go away. It happened again with the other arm and as she was turning to look at that one it was almost as if someone had suddenly dunked her whole body in icy water. Pain bloomed across her skin before fading into numbness. She shouted and instinctively

grabbed onto Idia before the sensations reached her brain and everything seemed to drizzle together.

   It was a few moments before the abstract painting of her surroundings came into focus again, but she wasn’t quite sure it worked all the way because everything she looked at was huge. She sat up still dizzy and recognised in her ringing ears that someone was speaking. She shook her head as if to clear water from her ears and felt them pop a bit before she heard Idia asking if she was alright.

   Standing up Talia yawned and started to tell him she was fine. When he came into view however it was apparent that she wasn’t fine after all. Idia was ginormous. He towered over her and she yelped in surprise, falling backwards. Never in her entire life had Talia ever imagined that she would fall off a taco and into whatever sauce came with the meal they had been eating. Not that it wasn’t just delightful to swim in thick ooze that smelled like spices. She gripped the edge of the container and attempted to catch her breath. 

   “OH MY GOD YOU’RE TINY!” Idia panicked and grabbed her by the back of her shirt and lifted her into his palm. “Woah! You’re the size of a mouse!” Talia flinched at the volume of his voice and covered her ears. “Oh oh sorry. You must be more sensitive to sound now that you're so small.” She picked herself up and momentarily stared at the giant that was her boyfriend. He was holding her relatively close to his face so she could see on the same level as him but all of his features were much larger than before. His eyes, his nose, his mouth… “Oh wow…” His lips were usually very thin and formed a small pout but when he ate his mouth became a huge gaping hole that she couldn’t help but stare at. If she could get him to open his mouth for her she might just die and go to heaven.

   “Hey are you alright? What happened?” Idia looked down at her with concerned eyes so she pushed the sauce out of her eyes and took a few steps forward. “It seems that Octavinelle thought it would be amusing to shrink me and yes I am ok. Just covered in sauce is all.” He made a small o with his mouth and grabbed a napkin. “Here I can help you… uh… wipe...um yeah” He stumbled over his words as he gently stroked the napkin across her body with his fingers. Being one handed was kind of hard for him though and one stroke was a little too hard. Talia fell backwards with a yelp and Idia quickly sputtered out an apology. 

   “It’s fine. Honestly though licking me clean would be faster.” She huffed. Idia froze and stared down at her with an unreadable expression. “Oh-oh… I-I mean… all I meant was-” She was cut off by Idia’s tongue licking a long stripe up her side. When he pulled back Talia flushed and put her face in her hands. Oh man! Why did that feel so good? “D-d… do it again…” The blush on Idia’s face darkened and he leaned down again to delicately slide his smooth tongue over Talia’s cheek. She squirmed and whimpered. It came to Idia that if he teased her she would squirm more so he sucked in a deep breath and in a low husky voice he whispered to her.

   “It’s surprising how well the sauce tastes with you, although I have to say I like your natural flavor much more.” His stomach did turns with nervousness but calmed when she let out a small moan. He chuckled and continued to clean the sauce off of her with his tongue. When he finished he pulled back and let her stumble to her feet.

   Talia stood on shaky legs and tried to process the fact that this was reality. She looked up at Idia who opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by a low rumble from his stomach. She giggled and asked him if he was still hungry. “Always, but that can wait until we figure out how to get you back to normal.” He looked down at her with concern. Talia shifted her stance and bit her lip. “Well I um… I was wondering… Maybe you uh… I could…” Idia smiled lovingly and found himself totally captured by how cute a tiny flustered version of his girlfriend. “I WANT TO KEEP FEEDING YOU EVEN THOUGH I AM REALLY SMALL!” Her sudden burst surprised him but he held back a laugh when she immediately buried her face in her hands. 

   It was just too cute he couldn’t resist. Idia leaned down again and pressed his lips against her cheek gently in an almost nonexistent kiss. She yelped and If she could flush more she would. “Yeah that sounds really nice” Idia said with embarrassment. He held up the taco for her and tried not to coo at how adorable she looked when ripping a piece of lettuce so she could feed it to him. She walked over to the edge of his palm and he opened his mouth slightly, sticking out his tongue to receive the food. She stared for a moment before looking up at him. “I wanna check your teeth.”

   Ever since she first saw them Talia wanted to check Idia’s teeth. She wanted to become a dentist someday so when she saw a row of jagged fangs that were usually hidden behind blue lips she almost shrieked in surprise and happiness. Since that day her greatest dream was to check his mouth and teeth. After they got together it was even harder to resist looking at his mouth anytime he opened it even a fraction. Not only because those sharp pearly whites were on display, but the mouth hidden behind them was enticing in a way that was far too much to just be a wannabe dentists fascination. Now that she was presented with a once in a lifetime opportunity to actually be up and personal with his teeth and mouth she couldn’t resist asking to take a look around.

   Idia was definitely caught off guard by her sudden declaration but unsurprised by the content of her demand. He did blush though and “eep” when he realized what that meant. “D-do you really want-” “yes! Yes I want to!” Talia was determined to make the most of this situation and that included getting in her boyfriend's mouth. He nodded nervously and pulled his hand up to his mouth. 

   He opened as wide as he could to give her the full view of his gaping mouth. She stood and stared at the dark cavern. It had pink fleshy walls coated in sticky saliva. The teeth in front were long and jagged and rimmed the soft muscle on the inside. His tongue was long and curious as it lifted slightly in response to her gaze. Long strands of liquid ropes stretched and snapped as he spread his jaws. She dragged her sight to the back of his mouth where a drop hidden by darkness invited her to come closer. She shivered and swallowed thickly. 

   Glancing back up at her too large boyfriend, Talia put her hands out and gripped the first sharp tooth, careful not to slice her palms. She stepped over the row of dangerous daggers where his tongue met her in a way that reminded her oddly of Kalim’s magic carpet. “Woah…” she breathed out as she was encased in humid heat and the smell of spicy mexican food with a hint of sweetness from the soda. 

   “Are you alright?” Came the voice of Idia’s ipad. Talia turned on her hands and knees and felt his tongue shift underneath her. “Never been better, but I think I see something stuck in here. I’m gonna need a second.” There was nothing in Idia’s teeth but the lie slipped easily from her mouth. Damn she thought my horniness has me lying to my boyfriend. She couldn’t find any feelings of guilt though as she gazed around his mouth.

   Shakily she stood on her feet and pressed her hands against the roof of his mouth to steady herself. He flinched and let out a noise of surprise causing her to slip and fall back on his tongue. She groaned as she felt his saliva seep through her clothes. Talia flipped herself over and froze. The back of his throat was so close and here she was just sitting her completely at his mercy. The girl knew that Idia would never do that on purpose but she couldn’t help the thrill that zinged through her at the idea.

   You see life sometimes has those moments where it acts as you think about something. Occasionally it works in your favor but most of the time it works against you. Life finds it entirely too amusing when people struggle to grasp the situation after it throws a curveball their way. This was one of those moments. 

   Ortho slammed open the door and Talia barely heard him say “Hey big brother-” before powerful jaws snapped shut and she was pushed, headfirst, to the dark cliff at the back of the throat. Slimy walls pulsed around her as she slid down a sticky tube where she felt pressure from all sides. It took a solid ten seconds to realize she was being swallowed, but her reaction was prevented by the feeling of her body being shoved through a ring of tense muscle. She landed in a semi solid-semi liquidated pool of food and layed panting in the dark. Her brain was slow to process what just happened, but her eyes went wide and she sat up when it caught up. Her boyfriend had swallowed her.

      The second the door opened Idia felt himself jump. Ortho pushed his way into the shy teens room and started to speak. Idia didn’t hear him however because when he jumped his mouth had closed and he had instinctively swallowed. Immediately panic shot through him as he realized he had just swallowed his girlfriend. Before he could do anything, though, he slumped and moaned as her form slid down his throat. He vaguely registered Ortho placing Talia’s notes on the ground near the door and leaving. The robotic boy had caught his brother in many strange situations so the event hardly bothered him. Idia sighed when he felt the large lump end it’s travels in his stomach before sitting up harshly with a yelp.

   “OH MY GOD! I AM SO SORRY! BABY? BABY! ARE YOU ALIVE?” The thundering voice of her boyfriend snapped Talia out of her astonishment and she quickly stood, ignoring how her feet sank like she was standing in mud. “Idia. Idia! Idia calm down, I’m fine!” He continued to panic and thrash about. The blonde felt herself flung against the walls of her fleshy prison. “I’m fine Idia but you need to stop moving I’m gonna get hurt!” She yelled.

  Idia froze and looked down at his bloated stomach. “Ok ok… umm… I’m sorry. W-what are we going to do now though?” He stuttered. Talia looked up towards where the voice came from. “Well for now I could...um… Stay here.” Idia’s jaw dropped before he remembered that his girlfriend always did have strange fascinations. “O-ok, sure.” Talia sighed in relief that she hadn’t seriously weirded Idia out.

   She stood again and although she couldn’t see, she had a feeling she was near the stomach lining. It felt smooth and slippery when she pressed her hands against it. Experimentally she rubbed circles around and kneaded her tiny hands into the flesh. Idia made a noise of content and sank back against his pillows. It wasn’t so bad having a tiny Talia inside of him. 

   She hummed quietly and continued to massage his soft flesh, but closed her eyes and listened to the burbling of his stomach. It suddenly felt very heavy and the burbling turned quite loud. Almost a second later Idia cracked his lips to let out a low rumbling belch. Talia’s squishy confines quivered as the short euruction came to a close. Idia huffed and sat back to let out another loud burp. 

   “BURRRRRAAAAAAOORRP!!! Mph, I think you're making me burp Talia.” She sat down and leaned against the rubbery wall of his stomach. “Do it again Idia.” She whispered quietly. He didn’t hear here but it didn’t matter much cause he burped again anyway. “Ungh damn it. It’s stuck. Hey um…” His shy voice cut off and Talia understood what he meant.

   Standing the blonde prepared herself and drew back. She then slammed into the fleshy walls as hard as she could and on the outside Idia lurched before slapping a hand over his mouth. The attempt was futile however since his belch was forceful enough to push it away.

“HUUUUAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRAAAAAAAOOOORRR- EEEEUUUUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOORRRLP!!!!!!”

   The blast was loud enough to make Talia’s ears ring and it lasted for a solid 7 seconds. Talia was shaken and rattled as the belch drew on before pausing and opening up again to a louder volume. As it finished Idia fell backwards onto the bed. His stomach giving a loud BLORSH as it swayed back with him. He moaned and panted, a deep red rising to his cheeks. 

   Talia was suddenly thrown around her spongey cave and got covered in foul smelling mush that she could only assume was the mexican food she had picked up before she got shrunk and eaten. Her legs were unsteady as she stood and shook the gunk from her hair. “Damn I’m gonna have to get new clothes. That’s gonna be a pain.” 

   Idia drew his hooded eyes to his large stomach. “Hey are you alive in there - huuraaap! Oof.” Talia couldn’t figure out which way was up so she simply stood where she was as she replied. “Yeah I am, but uh actually. How am I gonna get out.” Idia furrowed his brows. “I guess we will have to ask Azul since he was the one that got you into this mess. Ohh but that sounds really bad…” 

   Sensing her boyfriend's anxiety, Talia shushed him and continued speaking. “Umm… He Idia. How much food have you got left?” He paused his worrying and looked down at the remaining boxes of food. “I have two boxes of rice and beans and 3 more tacos, Plus the churros and the last bottle of soda.” Talia shifted in her spot and bit her lip. “Do you have any more room?” 

   She didn’t get an answer but she felt Idia shift and soon she could hear large clumps of masticated food fall into the thick ooze that already filled his gut to the near brim. The blonde shivered despite the intense heat that surrounded her. Idia ate the last few tacos with incredible speed and shuddered everytime he sent a thick lump rolling down his throat. 

   The sharp crunch and snap of the taco shells filled the room as he bit the last taco clear in half before shoving the rest inside his mouth before he even started chewing the first half. He was tempted to check on Talia but knew that she would appreciate it more if he left her in the dark as he ate the rest of his meal. His stomach pushed painfully against his jeans and he grunted as he suppressed a thick belch in his cheeks, blowing the fetid gas out the side of his mouth. He chuckled knowing that if she were still on the outside of him Talia would be bright red and squirming in place anxiously. 

   The only things left were the boxes of rice and beans and the bottle of soda plus dessert. Idia huffed and struggled to reach the last bags due to his gut which was now a solid 2 feet in diameter and churned loudly in an attempt to digest the insane amount of food he had eaten already. He felt his eyelids droop and forced himself not to enter a food coma yet as he popped the lid off the first bowl like container. 

   Using the serving spoon that the bowls had come with he spooned drippy beans mixed with the dry rice into his mouth and tried to ignore how his stomach groaned in protest. It wasn’t so hard to eat the first bowl of rice and beans since the new flavor had ignited minor hunger once again, but he had barely gotten through a fourth of the bowl when his stomach growled again painfully and he let out a wet burp. “Oooh, Talia I don’t,  HIC-UUAUURLPH! Ungh… I don’t feel so good.”

   The blonde looked up from where she was sitting dazed and feeling very… pleased with her current situation. Her brows furrowed in concern and she pressed a tender hand against the stomach wall she was leaning against. “Idia it feels kinda heavy and dense in here. I think you have too much pressure. Um… maybe try… you know…” Her face flushed with embarrassment and Idia likely would have been a bit embarrassed too had he not already known about her interests. Besides he was preoccupied with soothing his aching stomach. 

   The idea of drinking soda wasn’t very appealing at the moment so he decided to swallow down air instead. A large amount of air rushed into the stomach and startled Talia who suddenly felt like the air was getting so thick that it was squeezing her. She bit her lip and put a hand against the wall for moral support as she heard her boyfriend moan in pain. The blonde felt bad for him but not that bad cause soon the air left the space in a very loud and very long way.

“BRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAARR-HHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRP!!!”

   Idia slumped and panted, once again relishing the feeling of clearing space in his stomach. “Nice one” Talia squeaked from her spot in his gut. Idia looked down and giggled, imagining her face burning bright red and her eyes wide with shock and a hint of something more. “Think you have room now?” Her voice came again and Idia nodded despite the fact that she couldn’t see him. He would have to eat quickly while his stomach was still deceived into having more room. 

   Swallowing the last of the rice and beans down, Idia took his sweatshirt and pulled his tank up to rest on top of his burgeoning middle. It was completely round and swayed a bit when he moved around. He pulled the churros and soda bottle over with one hand, hiccuping a bit when the movement forced his gut to bounce, and used the other hand to rub circles over his taut skin. 

   The smell of the sugary desserts brought new life into Idia’s resolve and with determination picked up the first churro and snapped it with his sharp fangs. He ate the churro in three bites and swallowed despite his stomachs constant pleads for him to stop. The churros were still warm and were quite delicious so he didn’t have such a hard time eating them as he did with the rice and beans. He did start to feel sick again around his eighth and had to pause for longer between each churro. His bites became smaller and his breathing was slightly labored. Talia took note of this and began to run her hands over the inside of her boyfriend's gut as a way to comfort him as best she could.

   A part of her wished she could be on the outside, rubbing Idia’s round belly, helping him eat the rest of the churros and coaxing burps out of him to free up space. On the other hand sitting inside his intensely warm stomach which churned loudly as it digested was also an opportunity that she never wanted to miss. She heard Idia sigh and knew her efforts were working.

  The gamer let his eyes close for a few moments as he just enjoyed how Talia’s hands felt when they rubbed against his inside. Feeling himself falling asleep Idia shook his head and reached for the last churro. It took six bites to finish and had him forcing every one down with as much willpower as he had, but was worth it in the end when a sense of pride washed over him. The only thing left now was the last bottle of soda.

   Idia steeled himself and sat all the way up before grabbing the soda bottle and pressing it against his bloated abdomen. Talia heard the hiss and pop of the cap coming off the bottle and backed up to avoid being splashed. Not that it mattered since she was covered from head to toe in just about everything else Idia had eaten including soda. 

   He brought the rim to the bottle to his lips and only hesitated for a second before squeezing his eyes shut and tipping the bottle back. Soda gushed into Idia’s stomach and sloshed up against the walls, coating Talia with another layer of sticky sugar. The hand on Idia’s stomach felt how the skin pulled with every swallow. If Idia could he would have looked down and seen his already massive gut expand as he continued to slug down the fizzy drink. Almost as soon as the last drop of soda left the bottle Idia groaned and lurched forwards to hug his gut. 

   The soda pop fizzed and bubbled as it was quickly turned into a gas by the heat of Idia’s innards. After it came to the blue haired teens attention that his stomach would only keep growing due to the fact that air takes up more space than a liquid he quickly reached down and pressed a finger to the button on his pants. How they held up this far was a miracle since as soon as he touched the button it came undone with a loud ping and the zipper rolled down of its own accord. The massive gut surged forward to fill the space that it had been restricted from before. Idia moaned before his gut let out one more loud gurgle and a belch louder and longer than any he had let out so far blasted from his lips.

“HHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEUUUUUUUUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRP!!!!!!”

   Idia’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fell back against the pillows on his bed, his gut bounced with him and caused another burp of incredible magnitude to come rocketing out.

“BOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRP!!!!”

   After that belch after belch rolled out of his mouth, each one long, loud, and full of pressure. The room quickly stank like sickly sweet and spicy gut gas but Idia could hardly bring himself to care. He hiccuped and let out one more much smaller after burp before moaning and relaxing completely into the sheets beneath him. He didn’t feel as sick as he did before now that his stomach wasn’t filled with air. Instead he felt sleepy and content. 

   Talia on the other hand was still reeling from how incredible that crass display was. At this point she didn’t even bother covering her moan as she felt herself heat up for a completely different reason than the temperature in Idia’s stomach. A few moments of blissful silence passed of the two simply enjoying their situation when Idia’s phone pinged. 

   He groaned and grabbed it, clicking the home button so he could view the text. Azul: Hey I just thought I would let you know that the treat that I whipped up for you and your little friend will also cause her to be immune to any damage she may receive while ahem inside. Have fun and you can thank me later ;)

   Idia reread the text about nine times before he let his phone fall onto his gargantuan stomach, which was at this point 3 feet in diameter. That shitty octopus did this on purpose. The teen groaned again and read the text to Talia who didn’t respond for a long moment. “Well I guess that means I can stay in here a bit longer right?” She asked hopefully. Idia chuckled, “Yeah. We can figure out how to get you out after I take a nap.” 

   A yawn punctuated his sentence and his consciousness slipped as a food coma took over. Talia smiled sweetly from her comfortable position inside his very full gut. “Yeah…” She murmured softly before shutting her own eyes and letting the sounds of a pleasantly stuffed stomach lull her to sleep as well.

[one-boring-person]

Only Traitors Consort With The Damned (Part Eight)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: mentions of death

Context: (y/n) has to stay entertained at the cave, and so goes about setting up defences.

A/N: I think this chapter is a bit dull, but I promise it gets better soon!

Masterlist

Unsurprisingly, no light filters into my room when I wake again the next morning, my eyes having to swiftly adjust to the shadowy sight before them as I sit up, rubbing at my scalp. A pounding headache has set in, thanks to the lack of sleep and the sheer amount of over thinking I did last night, my skull feeling as if it's about to explode as I swing my legs out from under the covers, knowing that I have even more planning and preparing to do if I want to survive long enough to see the end of the year. Stretching out the dull ache in my muscles, I check the watch on my wrist briefly to get an idea of the time: 4:23. Whether that is AM or PM, I have no idea yet, but I aim to find out, quickly grabbing my rucksack and jacket as I stand and leave the room, heading out into the main hall where the boys usually spend their nights.

Bright light streams in from the outside, indicating that it is 4:23 PM, illuminating the decrepit lobby in a new clarity I've not seen it in before, every piece of scattered rubbish given a new appearance. In the daylight, the whole place looks less sinister, and more like an abandoned antiques shop, the dusty bits and pieces casting odd shaped shadows onto the floor as the sunlight hits them from a certain angle, every dull colour suddenly highlighted more than usual. I have to blink a few times to allow my eyes to adjust, but they quickly do so, my gaze swiftly flicking around the looming room so that I can take it all in, a plan springing to my mind as I observe it all.

Silently, I get to work, dropping my bag on the fountain ledge and rummaging around in it, pulling everything out to lay it out in front of me so that I can properly see what I have. It's not much, but it's enough to satisfy what needs doing. Picking up the lightweight chains we are required to own, I grab some dirty old cans lying a little way away, the litter most likely the remains of a meal from sometime before, their rusted forms almost perfect for what I need them for.

Eyeing the brightly lit entrance, I take up a ball of string, too, and go over to it, stepping out onto the rickety walkway, examining the rugged wood with a critical eye as I walk out a little way, putting some weight in my step. Under each step, the wood moves slightly, the material having a light spring to it thanks to its age and exposure to the elements, which makes me frown slightly, hoping my plan will still work even though this is the case. Kneeling down, I measure out a length of string that runs the width of the walkway and use my knife to cut it to size. Setting it aside, I get to work on the chains, making six separate lengths with cans attached to them, each one of them rattling loudly as I shake them out experimentally. Smiling to myself, I connect one chain to the end of the piece if string, doubling it over itself for a better result, quickly doing the same on the other end of the string, weighting it down perfectly. I find a pair of small rocks lodged into the cliffside beside me and place them at opposing ends of the walkway, but not before I've scraped a small groove into their surfaces, where the string rests once I've set it up, hanging the chains over the sides of the walkway. The string sits an inch or so above the surface of the walkway, meaning it is easily tripped over, setting off the rudimentary alarm.

I repeat this twice more, leaving them at alternating distances from each other to provide a crude trap to alert anyone inside the cave of approaching intruders: when someone trips the string, the cans and chains will rattle loudly, signifying their approach. Absentmindedly, I hear a small voice in my head telling me that any SRS soldiers will be expecting this, and won't fall for such an amateur trap, quickly deciding that I need to work on something inside the cave, too, something more hidden.

Going back inside, I wipe some sweat from my upper lip, surprised at the heat of the day despite it being mid-October, my clothes sticking to me as I go back to my rucksack, trying to figure something else out. My eyes are quickly drawn to the grenades I have left. They won't work very well on humans, but the loud noise and subsequent explosion of mist will throw anyone off if caught up in it, meaning they are somewhat effective for this purpose.

Grabbing them, I take the string again and go to the entrance, making sure to set up two of the conveniently placed barrels of charcoal the boys use as braziers, setting them up a little way apart around the front of the cave. Going a little way ahead of them again, I place a seemingly random cardboard box face down on the floor, checking the layout once more, before measuring pieces of string again. Cutting them all to size, I tie one end of each of the length to the ring of a grenade, which I carefully loosen, hiding the two explosives under the cardboard box as I loop the string around the two barrels, pulling it tightly enough that it creates another tripwire across the entrance.

Sitting back, I look at my handiwork, noting that the string isn't too obvious and that the overall look isn't too bad. Cautiously, I pull the string taut again, knowing how tense it needs to be for this trap to actually work. Aware that this is now a near-fatal hazard for the four original residents of the cave, I make a mental note to warn them of the new trap before one of them accidentally trips it and gets a face-full of burning holy water.

Sighing, I go back to my rucksack and pick up the gun, checking the clip for rounds, annoyed to find it only about half-full, most of them having been used over the last few days, meaning it needs reloading. I check over the rest if my stuff, growling when I realise that I haven't got anymore bullets with me, leaving me with a pretty much useless weapon which will need reloading very quickly. Setting it down again, I quickly make a decision, going back out into the daylight and up to the cliff top, where I grab some of the random pieces of driftwood lying around, returning to the cave with an armfull of them. Tiredly, I drop them to the floor and sit down, pull in out my knife so I can start whittling them down - a skill every Hunter is taught is how to make wooden bullets, seeing as they are effective against both supernatural and natural creatures.

A small pile of bullets has steadily grown by the time the boys finally emerge from their sleep, the last rays of sunlight having dissipated an hour or so ago, my fingers sore from scratching the knife over the dry wood for so long, though it has paid off: I have enough to fill four or five clips, now. As they enter the room, I look up at them with a tired smile, glad to have some company now.

"Hey guys. Sleep well?" I greet them, waving slightly with the knife, my tone light despite the tension in my body.

"Mostly, yeah." Marko responds, coming over to me with the others, their brows furrowed as they see what I'm doing.

"What're you up to?" Dwayne questions, eyeing the bullets apprehensively.

"Making some more rounds for my gun. I didn't bring enough ammo, so I'm making my own." I explain, gesturing to the pile dismissively.

"Out of wood?" Paul interjects, looking genuinely curious.

"Yep. It's the only available material."

"That's...kinda cool, but also pretty worrying." The blonde vampire muses, dropping down beside me as he goes to pick one up.

"I'm not planning to use them in you guys, don't worry." I reassure them, rolling my eyes.

"Why do you need so many?" David asks, blue eyes appearing much darker in this light.

I shrug casually, finishing up the one I'm currently working on.

"In case the SRS comes knocking. Speaking of which, I've set up some traps by the entrance, so just be careful of them." I make eye contact with David, "One of them will be very painful if it's tripped."

He frowns a little, but nods in any case.

"Duly noted." The vampire licks his lips carefully, "I'm hungry, so I'm gonna head out and get something to eat. You boys coming?"

Marko and Paul eagerly agree, though Dwayne politely declines.

"I think it's a good idea if someone stays here with (Y/n), and I'm not that hungry so I'm happy to do that." The dark haired vampire explains, watching me for a reaction as I give him a confused look, surprised at the offer.

"You don't need to, Dwayne. I'm grateful for the offer, but I don't want to ruin your night..." I start, only to be cut off by him sitting down beside me.

"Don't worry about it, I'd rather stay here. Plus, maybe you can show me how to do that. It'd get the job done quicker with two people doing it."

"I guess. Thank you." I murmur, still surprised, trying to ignore the blush rising to my cheeks.

"No problem."

"Right, well, we'll be back in a few hours. Want us to bring you something back, Dwayne?" David cuts in, eyeing the two of us carefully.

"No, it's alright. I'll go out when you guys get back."

"Ok. See you two later." Without another word, the three vampires leave the room, the surrounding quickly lapsing into silence as Dwayne and I sit there.

"So, how do you carve these?" He finally asks, pulling a knife from the pocket of his jacket, his thumb running swiftly over the blade to test it's sharpness.

"Oh, it's pretty easy. Just copy me..." I run through the basic premise of what needs doing, the vampire easily picking it up, the two of us starting to produce a good amount of them between us.

Part Nine

[blue-likethebird]

Shimizu Kiyoko: A Meta

Recently, Haikyuu finished its last match and ended an 8-year run in Shonen Jump. I love Haikyuu. It has so many unique characters with complex motivations, a plot that had me invested for 4 years straight, good pacing and a fanbase full of talented creators. It had a big impact on my style as an author and even motivated me to try out for my school’s volleyball team back in middle school (but I ended up getting hit in the head with a serve and cut after the first tryouts ended rip.) But like every story, Haikyuu had a few flaws too.

Shimizu Kiyoko is without a doubt one of my favourite characters after Michimiya and Suga. But when I reread the series following the manga’s end, I had the uncomfortable realization that as much as I love Kiyoko, the way her character was handled fell into a few -kinda misogynistic- pitfalls. Well, this is me taking a closer look at that. Below the cut is the full meta, which contains spoilers for the final arc of Haikyuu!! You’re free to add your thoughts, argue that I’m wrong, or call me a bitch and block me at your own discretion!

In fairness, Haikyuu is a series about a boys’ volleyball team, and that premise doesn’t leave much room for girls outside of the supporting cast. At the very least, Furudate did a good job making the female characters in his series likeable individuals with distinct personalities who have lives of their own outside of the guys. Even characters like Michimiya, Kanoka and Mika -who are comparatively minor characters serving romantic roles in the story- have identities not revolving around their relationships with boys. I’m glad that the girls were allowed to express ugly emotions, have supportive relationships with one another, and weren’t solely defined by what guys they were in love with. On that level, Haikyuu is leaps and bounds better than a lot of other shonen mangas ie Boruto’s Dad.

Unfortunately, Kiyoko’s arc fell slightly short of the mark. In the grand scheme of things, she really didn’t have much to do and her identity as a character is comparatively murkier than others once you strip away her relationships with the men in Haikyuu. Given her potential, popularity, and the higher standards Haikyuu set for its ladies, it’s a bit disappointing.

“But blue!” Someone in the back row pipes up. “You said yourself that Kiyoko isn’t a main character! Authors don’t develop the supporting cast nearly as much as the protagonists!”

Well yeah. If authors expanded on every character to the extent they expand on the lead, then it would be impossible to get to the actual plot. But hey, Oikawa appears less frequently than Kiyoko does and his motivations and interests are given time to develop. Heck, Yachi only joined the cast in chapter 73 and the series explores her interest in art and relationship with her mother really well during her introduction. We don’t know Kiyoko’s family situation, or why she quit track, or what drives her to put so much of her own time into the volleyball club. And the scenes where she has an impact on the story, or the game going on, or Hinata’s quest to become a great volleyball player, or another character she interacts with are few and far between when stacked up against other members of Karasuno’s volleyball club. The only exception would be Kinoshita and Narita, who have the bad luck of being Haikyuu’s version of “those two guys” so that’s not exactly the best demonstration of what Kiyoko has to offer.

Then there’s my beef with the pedestal she’s dropped on: Both in canon and out, Kiyoko is presented as a perfect goddess who can do no wrong. This setup has so much room to expand on and deconstruct, which dozens of stories have done incredibly well. Even Haikyuu itself has done a similar thing through Kageyama’s relationship with the other Kitadaii alumni and the “king of the court” storyline. Yet Kiyoko never gets a chance to explain her feelings on being held to such a high standard, nor is it ever brought up as something that could be uncomfortable for her. It’s briefly implied that she’s somewhat out of her element when she’s the centre of attention in the “do your best” scene, but that’s not really touched on further. Given that haikyuu has acknowleged being held to unreachable standards is damaging, it would have made sense to acknowledge Kiyoko’s perspective too. Is she insecure about being considered flawless? Is it something that brings her confidence or boosts her ego? Idk, because it’s never explained clearly. It’s like a porcelain doll: Kiyoko is perfect, but by keeping her up on a high shelf to maintain that perfection, we miss the chance to get a closer look that could help further our appreciation of her.

It’s not that being one of the less dynamic characters is inherently a misogynistic pratfall, since there are plenty of male characters out there who could give a cardboard box a run for its money in terms of complexity. However, given that Kiyoko’s character is already floundering among all the unaddressed idealizations around her, to have so little opportunity to address that and how damaging it can be, well it’s not great to say the least. She’s also one of the only characters in the whole series to suffer from this particular burden. It’s kinda difficult to handwave that as just a weird coinky dink that Kiyoko’s not given more development while the arrival of Lev at Nekoma warranted a dissection of how this affects their dynamic. 

This all builds up to a defining moment. The one that made me realize how Shimizu Kiyoko had never quite escaped the trap so many other shonen manga ladies since Sakura and Orehime had fallen victim to.

The reveal that she and Tanaka got married between the end of nationals and the time skip. That was when I realized that for all I loved her and the series she was a part of, the writing surrounding her was misogynistic. 

I have a... variety of emotions about this particular relationship’s road to becoming canon, and they’re not especially positive emotions either. I could prattle on for ages about the execution or buildup, and a whole other post could be written about why I always interpreted her as a lesbian, but that’s best saved for another time. How was Kiyoko falling in love with Tanaka a weak point?

To put it bluntly, it’s because she didn’t.

We’re shown over and over again that Tanaka has feelings for Kiyoko. That was established in basically the first scene they appeared together in. What irks me is that she never gets the same: that the ‘hints’ that Kiyoko returns those feelings barely qualify as hints at all. Yet, with one scene where Tanaka carries her bag, we’re supposed to believe that the few scraps of interest she’s shown throughout the 300+ chapters of the manga they’ve both appeared in is a strong enough end point to lead to them getting hitched. Come to think of it, is there ever even a scene outside of the bag carrying where they spoke one-on-one about anything meaningful? Did Tanaka ever get to see her as more than her pedestal that we saw? The scene they ended off on is where most romance arcs start for heaven’s sake, and it ultimately disservices both characters. 

Once again, poor Kiyoko got screwed over by the series denying her a chance to express her feelings, and the marriage bomb came off as less of a satisfying conclusion to either of their arcs and more like a one-sided “wear the girl down” pullout where the girl in question is treated more like a prize than part of a healthy relationship. That kind of “romance” is more at home in a cliche action bland-com than Haikyuu, where the relationships are written with more complexity. This would have so easily been avoided with even one throwaway line. But since Kiyoko never got to express her own feelings, a crucial building block to a satisfying romantic arc was left out and the whole relationship toppled over like a jenga tower.

To wrap this up, lemme say that Haikyuu is one of my favourite series and one of the strongest shonen or sports manga I’ve read. I love both Kiyoko and Tanaka both a fuck ton, and I’m incredibly grateful that Furudate gave us such a powerful series these past eight years. None of this is me trying to bash the author, story, or any of the characters and I’m definitely not trying to argue that they’re in any way problematic. This is merely one interpretation of the series and an examination of a relatively minor part of the genuinely enjoyable whole. My goal in writing this longass meta wasn’t to condemn. But, in a manga whose biggest strength is having such well-rounded characters, it’s still somewhat of a shame that so much of Kiyoko’s potential stayed just that: potential. Haikyuu is a series that’s well-known for giving complex personal stories to all its cast from major player to one-chapter rivals. Why is it that Shimizu Kiyoko -who’s been a regular presence in the story since the very first chapter- couldn’t get the same?

[emospritelet]

Pandemic prompts 11 "Oh I'm fine, I never get sick"

I put this in the Desperation verse

Prompt list here

[AO3]

x

Belle left Mr Gold giving Bae his honey and lemon while she went back into town. She had washed her hands thoroughly before leaving, and told herself she would need to be more careful; the virus was virulent and the last thing she needed was to come down with it herself. It was hard to see someone battling their own sickness to love and care for their child, though. She was determined to do what she could to help.

She crossed the street, dodging a trio of men with their arms filled with multi packs of toilet paper who got a little too close. Shaking her head, she walked by the diner and up the tree-lined path that led to the inn.

The interior was dark and cool, and Belle shivered a little as she tapped the bell on the desk. There was a cheerful ping, and she hesitated, hand hovering above it, wondering if she would need to wash her hands again. Should have worn gloves.

“You here for takeout?”

A young woman stuck her head around the corner behind the reception desk, and Belle took a few hasty steps back, leaving enough room for her to enter properly and leave a generous space between them. She had seen the woman on the few occasions she had been in the diner, pretty and long-limbed, a bright red streak in her dark hair. She smiled widely, leaning on the reception desk and tapping red-lacquered fingernails against the wood.

“Hey,” she said brightly. “The new librarian, right?”

“Yes.” Belle returned the smile. “My name’s Belle. Belle French.”

“Ruby Lucas,” said the woman. “Did you place an order? I thought it was Leroy wanting his bacon cheeseburgers.”

“Oh no,” said Belle hastily. “No, it’s not that. It’s - I’m kind of doing someone a favour. I was just over at Mr Gold’s house, and—”

“Oh, you know Rum!” said Ruby, and Belle shook her head, confused.

“Rum?”

“Mr Gold,” explained Ruby, leaning on her elbows and grinning. “His first name’s Rum. I guess it’s short for something? But I have no idea what, so…” She shrugged. “He does Granny’s books.”

“Yeah, that’s partly why I’m here,” said Belle. “I told him I’d pick them up. And - and he said that your granny was sick. He wanted to know how she’s doing.”

Ruby’s face fell a little, a hint of anxiety in her dark eyes.

“Oh,” she said. “Oh, yeah, she’s okay. I mean not great but okay. I’m really worried, not gonna lie, but I’m trying not to let her see, you know? She did at least eat something today, so I think maybe she’s starting to get over the worst of it. Maybe.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Belle sincerely. “What about you?”

“What? Oh, I’m fine, I never get sick,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “Just as well, this place doesn’t run itself. Even with no customers.”

“The diner’s still doing takeout?” asked Belle, and Ruby nodded.

“Yeah. Business is pretty slow, but we’ve done a few deliveries of meals to people who can’t leave their homes, and there are regular orders for burgers.”

“Better than nothing, I guess,” said Belle.

“Yeah, but if the Mayor orders a full lockdown, we’re screwed,” said Ruby, with feeling.

“Is that likely?”

“Don’t know. If those morons down at the Rabbit Hole don’t keep throwing their stupid parties, maybe.”

“That would be hard on you guys,” said Belle. “I’m kind of stuck in limbo until I can open the library, but at least I’m getting paid.”

“Sucks, huh?” said Ruby, and sighed. “How’s Rum? How’s Bae? He’s a cute kid, but I imagine even he’ll start to bounce off the walls if he has to be stuck inside.”

“Oh.” Belle winced. “Uh - he’s sick. Actually, they’re both sick. Kind of why I’m here, I wanted to help them.”

Ruby looked sober.

“Damn, I should have known there was something up when he didn’t pick up the books,” she said. “Between caring for Granny and trying to look after the business, I don’t have a minute to really think about the rest of the town.”

“And I’m here with time on my hands,” said Belle. “So I said I’d run any errands he needed.” 

“Well, it’s good of you,” said Ruby. “We try to be there for each other in this town. There’s a few exceptions—assholes, in case you needed a translation—but most people will help you out if you need it.”

“That’s good to know,” said Belle, with a smile. “And I could probably use a guide to the local assholes, just in case.”

“Consider it done,” said Ruby, with a grin. “How’s Bae doing?”

“He’s in bed,” said Belle. “High fever and a cough. Mr Gold is trying his best to ignore the raging fever he has while he tries to look after him. I’m worried he’s gonna collapse from exhaustion, never mind the virus.”

Ruby snorted.

“Yeah, that’d be right,” she said. “The guy would walk over hot coals for his son. It must be tearing him up not being able to care for him properly.” She threw up her hands, shaking her head. “Anyway, this isn’t getting anything done, is it? Let me get those books for you.”

She pushed away from the reception desk, heading out, and Belle paced slowly back and forth, one eye on the empty street outside. Ruby’s words had given her pause for thought, and an idea was forming in her mind. It wasn’t the best idea she had ever had, in the circumstances, but it had taken root and branched out in her brain, refusing to budge. She nodded to herself. It’s the least I can do. Maybe one day I’ll need someone to be there for me. 

It wasn’t long before Ruby came back in, arms carrying two heavy ledgers, a cardboard concertina file and a plastic bag full of what looked like cash register receipts. She let the pile thump onto the reception desk, huffing out a breath.

“You gonna be okay carrying these?” she asked. “They’re heavier than they look.”

Belle thought for a moment.

“Would you mind holding onto those?” she asked. “I’ll bring over one of my suitcases. I can pack everything in and wheel it over to Mr Gold’s place.”

“Good idea. Oh!” Ruby bounced on her toes. “I’ll give you one of Granny’s apple pies to take around. That’s Bae’s favourite. And tell them I said to get well soon.”

Belle smiled.

“I will.”

x

Half an hour later, Belle was walking back to Mr Gold’s house, pulling her suitcase with one hand and carrying a box containing an apple pie and a package of chocolate chip cookies in the crook of her arm. The suitcase was a little heavier than it should have been; she had also packed a small overnight bag which was stowed beneath the accounting records. 

Belle had decided that Mr Gold and his son needed help, and that they were unlikely to get it from anyone but her in the current climate. She was prepared for Gold to insist that he could do everything himself, but it was clear that he was holding on by his fingernails. If he accepted her help, perhaps he could at last get some rest.

Knocking on the front door of his house, she could hear faint coughing from above, then silence. She knocked again, and eventually Gold opened the door, looking drawn and exhausted. He smiled warmly, though, and stood aside as Belle entered, careful not to touch her.

“Ruby sends her love,” said Belle, marching through to the kitchen and hearing him close the front door. “She says that Granny’s quite sick, but she thinks she’s over the worst of it.”

“That’s good to know.”

She slid the box onto the table, turning on her toes to face him.

“She sent over an apple pie, and some cookies,” she added, and Gold’s face broke into a smile.

“That was very kind of her,” he said. “Thank you for doing that, I’ll make a start on those books tonight.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” she said sternly. “You’re dead on your feet. Please, take some rest. Just - just lie down for a few hours, get some sleep.”

Gold sighed, rubbing an eye, and she could feel the weariness rolling off him in waves.

“I can’t,” he whispered. “I have to care for Bae. There’s no one else.”

“There’s me,” said Belle gently. “I can help. Please - I want to.”

He seemed to be wavering, clutching at the handle of his cane so hard his knuckles were white. She wondered if stubbornness was all that was keeping him upright.

“Alright,” he said eventually. “That’s - that’s very kind of you, Miss French. If you could keep an eye on Bae while I snatch a few hours of sleep, I’d be obliged.”

“Of course,” she said. “And you can call me Belle.”

He smiled faintly.

“My name’s Rum.”

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ @sasuhinabigflash2020​​ || Day Seventeen: Craving ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ] 

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Lying on her bedroom floor, Hinata stares up at the ceiling, occasionally giving an owlish blink. The little glow-in-the-dark stars and planets she stuck up there when she went through her space phase are still there, their oddly pale yellow-green dim and listless in the daylight hours of morning. About how she’s feeling right now, as a matter of fact.

It’s quiet today. Like it is every day. And has been everyday for...gosh, how long has it been, now? She’s lost count.

Lost count of the days since everyone disappeared.

Not just her father and her sister, either. Everyone. One day Hinata simply woke up...and found she was the absolute last person on earth. Or at least...she’s yet to encounter a single other person. And it’s been months, at the very least. The phone never rings. No cars drive by. Turning on the television shows the same programs as per usual, but they’re all reruns. And the news stations are just endless cycles of advertisements.

Online is much the same. Nothing updates. But nothing completely stops, either. Somehow she still has power, internet, phone connection...it’s odd.

She goes to the store a few blocks away. Everything is still there. And nothing is going bad. The produce still looks the same as the first day she went.

At first...it was extremely hard to wrap her brain around, as one would likely expect. Theories clogged her brain for days. Was she actually in a coma, dreaming all of this? Was she dead, stuck in some weird limbo? Had she simply...lost her mind?

And then the thoughts of absolute loneliness. Never seeing her family again. True, she didn’t have the best relationships with either of them, but...to have any chance at that changing ripped away made her realize how much she’d truly wasted a very final opportunity.

In the end, however...there was simply acceptance. Deciding to, at least until she reached some unspoken limit, to just...try living. See how far she could get.

And so far, it’s been...okay. While she can’t explain (and maybe doesn’t want to explain) the seeming lack of passing time beyond a day and night cycle (how else could nothing be rotting?), other things change. The weather still varies. It just rained yesterday, and it’s a balmy seventy-two degrees today according to her phone, and sunny. And thought it’s not been quite long enough to confirm seasons, Summer does seem to be conceding to Fall.

Which makes her wonder how that’s going to go. There’s been no shut-off in the power, but what if something happens? She’d never know how to fix it! Maybe just...find someplace where the power was still on. Or steal a generator. Eventually though she’ll run out of gas, right…?

Many of the rules of this new (?) world escape her.

But for now, those life-changing questions aren’t what’s on her mind.

...she has a craving.

For a few moments longer, she maintains her position on her floor. But then enough will musters up, and she sits upright with a grunt before hauling herself to her feet. Putting on some shoes, she then leaves the house and heads down the road.

The door she leaves unlocked. How’s she going to get robbed, being the last person left? And that way, no ever worrying about locking herself out, either.

...it happened once last year when Hanabi was out of town with a friend and her father on a business trip. Most embarrassing reason to talk to her neighbor ever.

Plugging in earbuds to her phone, she keeps one ear open, just in case. Otherwise, her favorite pop songs play in the background of her walk, humming absently. A few times she’s mustered up the courage to sing out loud, given no one is around to hear. But even being completely alone...she’s still shy.

Twenty minutes sees her at the supermarket. Not bothering to take a cart, she instead tries to remember what aisle she needs, wandering down the front and reading the signs above each. What category does it fall under, again…?

Lost in her musing, she actually squeals out loud in surprise at a sudden crashing sound.

W...what…?

Frozen in place and barely daring to breathe, only her eyes flicker in search of...something. Anything. It sounded like it came from the back of the store...maybe some animals got in? Those, at least, she’s seen plenty of. Squirrels in her backyard, cats sunning themselves on porches. She tries not to think of all the abandoned pets with no one coming home for them anymore.

But in the subsequent silence, she doesn’t hear the scurrying of surprised feet like she would expect of anything inhuman. Instead...an impressive string of oaths and swears reaches her ears.

...no, it...it can’t be…

Throat suddenly dry, Hinata weighs her odds. On one hand...it could be someone friendly! Maybe she’s not as alone as she feared! But...on the other...they might see her as a threat, and kill her. Or do...other horrible things to her.

Loneliness can leave one wanting, after all. Or just drive a person to a sick, brain-rotted edge.

Eventually, she overcomes the absolute tension in her legs and shuffles forward a few inches, doing her best to remain absolutely quiet. There’s now just vague rustling sounds as...whoever it is rummages through...whatever they’re doing. Part of her still wants to run screaming, but her curiosity about another person existing in this unreal reality is just a bit more convincing.

She peers down each aisle as gingerly as possible, finding each empty as she gets closer and closer to the noises. And with every step, the nerves in her gut wind tighter and tighter in apprehension. Could this be any more suspenseful?!

Finally, reaching the last aisle, she lets one eye look past a display of chips before withdrawing with a hint of a gasp.

They’re there! Whoever they are!

Calming her racing heart just enough, she then glances back around. An entire display of boxes - of what she can’t tell from here - has been completely obliterated, creating a huge spill of cardboard across the back corner of the store. And right in the middle of it is a person.

Clearly scavenging for certain types of...whatever those are, they stuff the occasional box into an oversized duffle bag slung over their shoulder. Seems someone else is making a supply run. Looking at another box, they weigh the option before tossing it nonchalantly.

...for some reason, that makes her frown.

Once the bag is full, however, the person in question starts heading back her way.

Panic.

Withdrawing and not knowing where to go, Hinata dances in place for a long moment before ducking behind a “pixelated” display of cases of soda depicting the local football team logo. From there, she watches as the stranger walks right past her.

He looks to be about her age. Messy dark hair, fair complexion, typical clothes of boys she’s seen at her highschool. But she doesn’t recognize him...not that she’d know everyone anyway, her school and city are pretty big. Or maybe he’s from out of town, passing through and gathering more supplies.

The possibilities are endless, and she’s only getting more curious.

Once he reaches the doors, he slings the bag to the floor and...picks up another one? Where’d he get all these things, anyway? Then back he comes, clearly on a second round as he ducks into another aisle.

Realizing she’s safe, Hinata makes to follow, creeping up to the same aisle.

Only to scream when he comes back out.

Seems he took a wrong turn.

To his credit, he doesn’t shout back. Rather, he stumbles back with a wheeze, going ghostly pale as Hinata manages to trip over her own feet and fall on her backside.

“P-please! Don’t kill me!” she cries, arms lifting to shield her face.

“W...what?”

Hearing his own panic, Hinata risks a glance. He just...stares at her in obvious confusion.

“...I...I thought, um…” Well now she’s embarrassed. Heat floods her face. “...it’s just been so...so long since I…?”

“Christ lady, you scared the shit out of me,” he then cuts in with a heavy sigh.

“S-sorry!”

“The hell were you doing?”

“Well, I...I came to get -?” Oh hell, that’s not important. “...I heard a noise, and...saw you. I haven’t seen another person in...in months. I wasn’t sure what to expect, I guess.”

“...you too, huh?”

She blinks.

“Everyone else just up and disappeared on you?”

“Y...yeah. I thought -?”

“You were the last person on earth?”

“...mhm.”

“Me too. But it seems there’s at least two of us. Which makes me wonder if there’s any more.”

“I honestly thought this was all some strange dream...maybe I just h-hit my head and fell into a coma.”

“Yeah, same here. But then I started getting hungry and no one but me was gonna feed me.” He gestures to his bag. “Hence a supply run.”

“Yeah, I...I know how those go.” After a pause, Hinata sheepishly gets back to her feet, posture withdrawn. “...I’m Hinata, by the way.”

“Sasuke. I’d say nice to meet you, but uh...kinda biased given your the first face I’ve seen in months.”

At that, she can’t help a giggle. “True. Still...I’m g-glad to know I’m not alone. Where do you live, if...you don’t mind me asking?”

“Like eight blocks west of here.”

“I’m three to the north.”

“Makes you wonder how we haven’t crossed paths until now, huh?”

“Yeah...weird.”

They fall into an awkward silence.

“...W-well, I...I better let you get back to…” Hinata gestures to his bag.

“Hey, you wanna share numbers?”

At that, she jolts. “... I -?”

“Just in case we want to talk or something. Not like we have anyone else to chat with, right? And we might need help at some point.”

“Oh...g-good point. Um…” Fiddling with her pockets, she pulls out her phone and trades her digits. “Sasuke, right?”

“Yeah. And Hinata?”

“Mhm.”

“Cool.” He tucks his mobile back into his sweatshirt. “Guess I’ll, er...talk to you later.”

“Guess so. Um...b-bye.” Giving a very awkward little wave, Hinata steps past him and just..scurries for the door, heart once again pounding in her chest as she hurries back up the road.

If...if this Sasuke guy is still here...who else could still be around? Suddenly everything she’s assumed for the past few months is thrown into doubt. A few blocks apart, and it took them this long to cross paths. How many more could there be…?

Or is it just them?

So shook up is she, Hinata doesn’t realize - until she’s back in her house, leaning wearily against her front door - that she didn’t actually get what she went out for.

...well...maybe next time.

She’s had enough excitement for one day.

     I have...no idea what this is kjdfdjhg just a cliche “last two people on Earth” idea that hit me completely out of nowhere xD The actual prompt has very little to do with it beyond never being revealed because...reasons.      (I dunno what she wanted, she wouldn’t tell me lol)      Anywho, I guess not...much else to say? Random piece is random, but hopefully still enjoyable! I need to start doing these at better times but I always write better at night...and today was busier than I expected. Take all my excuses :’D But on that note, I’ll see you guys later - thanks for reading!

[allthethingamabobs]

family sticks together, bruh

Notes: I was re-watching the Bay-verse movies and suddenly got irritated at the no last name thing at the end of the second one. April O'Neil was right there. Their ride-or-die, their badass older sister, their hogosha. So here's my first contribution to the TMNT fandom. I literally wrote this in half a day, so if you see any writing errors all I gotta say is...my bad. Enjoy the found family fluff!

Rating: G

Also on AO3.

April figured it all started with a package hastily stuffed in her mailbox. It was barely small enough to fit, wrapped in that tough paper-cardboard material, and took a few careful pulls to get out. She couldn’t recall ordering anything recently, so the least she could do was try not to destroy what was most likely her neighbor’s mail. But when she flipped it over for the addressee, she was surprised to see “Mikey O’Neil” on it.

April and her “childhood pets” had been reunited four months back now, and it continued to throw her life upside down. A happy upside down, though. Those two names together were doing a number on the loner habits she’d built up since her father’s death. Apparently, all it took was four mutant teenagers and their father to start breaking down those walls.

She snapped a photo of the package and sent it to Mikey as she walked up to her apartment. Her phone lit up with a video chat request seconds later. The boys were just like any other teens when there weren’t bad guys to fight—they loved texting (on their one-of-a-kind turtle phones), sending her snaps, and video chatting whenever they could. April supposed that 15 years alone in a sewer could make one a little starved for new attention, and she was always happy to talk.

One of Mikey’s eyes filled the screen first, and then his grinning face when he pulled back. “You got it!” he hollered.

There was a thump from somewhere behind him, and Leo yelled something about peace and quiet when meditating. Then all she could see was a blurry carapace as Mikey quickly escaped to some other part of the lair. “You got it!” he cheered again, down to a whisper-yell.

“Sure did,” she answered with a smile, while making sure her apartment door locked behind her. “A little heads up would be nice, though. People do steal packages.”

“Man, that would’ve been no bueno. It has my name on it and everything.”

She shrugged—it was New York, what could she say. “About that… Mikey O’Neil, huh?”

He brightened. “Yeah! Makes sense, right? You’ve always been family even if we got separated for like, way too long, and who wouldn’t want to be a badass O’Neil?”

“Hm.” Her smile was fond even as she bit her lip to keep herself from doing something dramatic like tearing up. “You make some excellent points.”

Mikey nodded, seemingly proud of his reasoning. “You get me, April. So when are you gonna come hang out?”

“Not until tomorrow at least.” She set the phone on the counter as she turned to mess with the oven dials. “I’ve got to eat, and then a grimy bathroom and donation boxes are calling my name.”

Two weeks ago, a great aunt she hadn’t talked to since her father’s funeral had passed away and apparently left her succession rights to a New York miracle: a rent-controlled apartment above a quiet antique store. It was a dated unit and still smelled a bit like old people, but she was making it work.

A whine came from her phone. “Aw, shell… Oh, hey! We could help! Four mutants and a human are better than one!”

“That’s sweet, Mikey, but I’ve got this.” Plus, she was starting to pick up the brother’s dynamics. That visit would devolve into complete chaos in no time, given the cluttered mess. There were a lot of breakable objects she was still in the process of either packing up or donating.

“Your loss, Ape. Guess we’ll see you tomorrow.” He got up close to the camera again and whispered dramatically, “You’ll bring the package, right?”

She snorted and leaned over so he could see her face. “Pinky swear.”

“I don’t have a pinky, so I’ll have to believe you. Bye, April!”

The screen went blank, and April had a glimpse of herself in the reflection. She had to admit… her smile looked a lot more genuine these days.

In work news, however, life had been a lot of sucking up to Bernadette and the team after getting her job back, so she didn’t get down to the lair until late in the evening. Entering through the water system wasn’t exactly ideal, so they’d built a biometric, heavily enforced door as an alternative. Leo spotted her first as she shoved her way in and waved from where he was cleaning his katanas.

The new lair seemed to change every time she visited—more light-up signs or beat-up furniture appearing—and she still felt a little guilty for being the reason behind the move. The guys had assured her that they didn’t blame her, and they were having fun with the tall ceilings and tunnels in the new space. Splinter had even claimed one to start a bonsai garden.

“Hey, April! How was your day?” Leo called, carefully setting his weapons aside to get up.

“Not too bad, mostly research on some detox craze—”

“April!?” There was a crash from the back where they had set up a gym area in an upper opening. Mikey came tumbling out, almost right on top of where Raph was exiting the lower tunnel, and he gracefully avoided retaliation. “You got the goods?”

Leo shot her a confused frown, and she answered with a fond “don’t ask” look before rummaging in her bag to pull it out. “Yes, Mikey, I have the goods.”

Mikey bounced over and pulled her into a quick, bone-crushing hug before taking the package out of her hands. He ripped into it and pulled out a gaudy gold chain that looked like it once belonged in a 2000’s music video.

“Bling, bling!” he crowed and threw the shell necklace off to be replaced.

“Wait a minute, is that what was so important you had to order it?” Donnie said as he and Raph joined the group. “That’s such a waste of money!”

“Some ninja you are,” Raph snorted. “You can see that ugly-ass chain from a mile away.”

Leo hummed at that and then frowned. “Mikey, did you even ask April if you could send that to her place before you ordered it?”

Said turtle shrugged. “I knew she wouldn’t mind.”

The others seemed to erupt at once.

“Except it’s an unknown package being sent to her place, especially with the Foot Clan knowing her association with us—”

“Even worse, it’s inconsiderate to just assume—”

“Even worse, Leo? What kind of bullshit is that—”

April was an only child (well, not so much anymore), so she wasn’t used to how quickly one small thing could turn into a full blown argument. If pushing got involved, then 6-foot mutant turtles or not, she would break up that fight—yup, there’s the shoving.

“Guys, GUYS!” April moved forward and intercepted the beginning of whatever as they all avoided bumping into her. “It’s fine. You can have stuff sent to my place, I don’t care. As long as I can get it down here.”

It took a little more convincing to assure them that no, they were not imposing on her, and then they seemed excited about this new opportunity. Apparently, they’d had to scout out addresses before and sneak the package away before the occupants realized. Obviously, this was much more convenient.

Steadily, they all started to order stuff online (with what money or credit card she had no idea) and have it sent to her place. Parts for Donnie, books for Leo, and though she only felt it through the packaging, yarn for Raph. At first, Mikey was the only one who used O’Neil for the address. Then something changed, and they all started to use it too. A package of tea addressed to Splinter O’Neil gave her a small laugh one day. Raph had been the last to address himself as O’Neil, always so stubborn, and seemed almost shy when she delivered it.

April knew she was very biased on this, having seen them as teeny-tiny babies, but her little-big brothers could be pretty adorable sometimes.

---

The last name thing had come up with Splinter one day as they sat in his quiet bonsai garden, enjoying some tea while the boys burned off energy around the rest of the lair.

“I don’t want to overstep any boundaries or anything, but I’ll admit it’s… nice. My dad was really all I had for family, so it was just us and then me for so long. It’s almost like this has all… I don’t know, come full-circle? If that makes sense?”

Splinter smiled and reached out to lay his hand on hers.

“I was not lying when I said I modeled my parenting after your father. One way or another, you both cared for this family, and you know we consider you a part of it.” April nodded, a little choked up, and grasped his hand. He’d said it himself, but she wasn’t ready to fully relive how Splinter felt so familiar, so comforting.

“Besides,” he continued with a chuckle. “Michelangelo has quite enjoyed having a last name, and I think the others were a bit hesitant before they saw that you didn’t mind.”

“Of course not, I’m all for it,” April laughed, wiping under her eyes. “Now there’s more than just me to make the O’Neil name proud.”

---

One other thing she had discovered about being a big sister to four trouble-prone teens: full names were extremely effective.

“Donatello O’Neil!” she shouted the second she stepped into the lair, and all movement ceased. Leo balanced on one foot, mid-throw, Raph was mid-swing across the lair, and Mikey had an orange soda titled towards his face, where it slowly dripped down his front.

A weak “Oh, shell” came from the direction of the lab, and she stormed over. A taunt from Mikey followed but was quickly cut off with a grunt. Donnie was hunched over his desk, head turned slightly to look up at April’s furious approach.

“Why the hell did I just find a tracker in not one but all of my jackets?” She reached into her pocket, grasped the tiny devices, and tossed them on the desk. “I almost had a panic attack thinking I was being tracked by someone else. You know that’s been one of my worst fears ever since the Shredder, and we’ve talked about privacy and emergency plans, Donnie. I have a panic button on my phone, and I gave you permission to track it when absolutely necessary.” She let out a frustrated huff, pointing at the trackers. “What. Are. These?”

He’d sputtered a bit and avoided her eyes as she spoke, but he finally looked up when she stood silent, waiting for an answer. His shoulders drooped, and he wheeled back from his desk to face her. Even sitting, Donnie was only slightly shorter than her.

“Contingency plan,” he finally bit out. “Phones are most likely the first thing a kidnapper would get rid of to avoid tracking.”

“Wh— kidnapper?” That caught her off guard, and the tension in her shoulders released a little. Was there a new danger she didn’t know about? “But who… Oh.”

Movement on his tablet drew her eye, and the footage there followed a shady van that looked very familiar.

The Foot Clan—because an organization that big could still survive with their leader in jail for a year now—had disabled her turtle-approved security system and ransacked her apartment a couple of weeks ago. The cameras from across the street told them that and how the intruders had missed April coming home by a mere 12 minutes. They had obviously been searching for something specific, and she eventually realized it must have been the box of notes from Project Renaissance. Luckily, they had been stored in the lair for safe keeping.

After coming home to that mess, April called Donnie right away and started packing up her necessities. All four of the turtles had met her at her usual sewer entrance, and they formed a tense detail on the trip back. She worked out-of-office that week as she laid low in the lair and waited for the all-clear while they doubled up her apartment’s security. Splinter and the boys were good about giving her space when she was working, but she could still feel the hovering and worry. The guys had been in and out more often, Splinter always had some tea ready for her, and she just knew there had been many hushed conversations out of earshot.

Sure, deadly henchmen being in her apartment had freaked her out, but it had really freaked out her new family. April held her own against all of the weird shit they got dragged into, but there were always reminders that she did not have a shell or ninja training; a sprained ankle, one small concussion, too many bruises to remember, and even a few less inches of hair when it got singed in an explosion.

She looked between the tablet and Donnie, but now he held his gaze steady. “The Foot know where you live, and you refuse to move. This was the best way for us to always be there when you need us.” His voice was even, calculated, but his hands were clasped tightly and one foot tapped insistently.

Oh, her sweet, overprotective boys. Under all that bullet-proof shell, they were all just teenagers who had five people in the world to call family, and they did not take that for granted.

April sighed and turned to sit against the desk, holding out one hand. Donnie took it and held on, grip tight. “It comes from a good place, Donnie, but you have to tell me about these things. Trust goes both ways, okay?”

Leo, Raph, and Mikey were hovering around the entrance to the lab, and she gave them all a stern look to reiterate her point. “I know I don’t have a shell, but I am scrappy, stubborn, and awesome at running in heels.”

“Way better than the Jurassic World chick,” Mikey piped up, and Raph lightly punched his arm.

“You’re damn right,” April answered, smiling at his effort to lighten the mood. “So I appreciate the worry, guys, but you need to talk to me. I worry, too. You might forget, but you’re not invincible.”

“Better off than you,” Raph grunted. This time Mikey punched him, not as lightly. “What, it’s true!”

April sighed. “Come on, Raph, you know muscle isn’t everything.”

“No,” he grumbled, “but you got us. Whether or not you like it, we can take the hard hits.”

“What he means to say,” Leo said, shoving Raph back with his shoulder, “is that we were worried, and we didn’t think you were taking the threat seriously enough.” Donnie’s hand gripped hers a little harder, and she looked back to see him nod in agreement. “We are sorry about the secrecy, though.”

April sighed. “Fair point. You know I love you guys,” they perked up at that, “but having back-up is kind of a new thing for me. It’s habit to go solo, and it’s habit for you four to be a team.”

She held out her other hand. Leo was closest, and he took it with some hesitation. “Still a learning process all around.”

Mikey eagerly grasped Leo’s other hand and then Raph’s, refusing to let go even as Raph gave a shake, so they were all joined. “Family sticks together, bruh.”

---

The O’Neils had been a thing for awhile now, but writing it down was very different to actually saying it outloud. Mikey had no trouble claiming his new last name, and had even dubbed some pizza monstrosity he concocted from as many toppings he could get as the “O’Neil Special.” For the others, it took some time to say it—at least when she was around to hear.

Eight months. Donnie had been talking a mile a minute about a phone meeting set up with an award-winning engineer currently teaching at NYU. He’d been given 30 minutes to ask her all the questions he wanted. April had kind of bullied Vern into setting it up with his new connections, and Donnie had asked her to be there for moral support. She assured him it was all going to go great and to just make the call already. His shoulders went rigid under her hands when the call connected. “Hi! Hello, uh, this is Donatello O’Neil, I got your number from Vern? The Falcon?” She squeezed his shoulders in comfort, grinning proudly for many reasons.

One year and 2 months. Raph had been playing a one-on-one basketball game with Donnie while April refereed. Even as the self-proclaimed muscles, Raph was agile, and he did a quick maneuver around Donnie to score a perfect 3-pointer. “And Raph O’Neil makes the shot!” he whooped, doing a quick victory dance. He didn’t seem to realize it, but April certainly did. She felt warm and fuzzy after that, so she let him get away with traveling a couple minutes later.

For Leo, it just hadn’t come up yet. Although, one day she’d been stress cleaning their mess of a kitchen, and opened one beat-up book in curiosity to see “Leonardo O’Neil” neatly written on the cover page. That was enough for her.

Then her amazing family had finally gotten the acknowledgement they so rightly deserved.

“To you, brothers. Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, Michelangelo.” Chief Vincent paused. “Last name?”

The guys all glanced her way, and April didn’t care if her eyes were a little watery at Leo’s answer. “O’Neil.”

[cuppalevi]

Blue Guitar | Chapter 1: Feast Your Eyes

Series Summary: Leone Abbacchio's trying his best to get his shit together for Narancia. But when Narancia ends up inviting him to a concert he's playing for, Leone ends up under the sheets of the popstar, Bruno Buccellati. It turns out dating a popstar has complications. Especially when a certain someone named Diavolo has tricks up his sleeves.

Chapter 1 Summary: Leone Abbacchio gets invited to Bruno Buccellati’s concert by Narancia and he steals a pack of oranges from Giorno.

Fandom: Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure

Pairing: Leone Abbacchio x Bruno Buccellati

AO3 Link | Masterlist 

“You should go! You’re always at home.” Narancia remarked as he pressed down on the buttons of his Playstation controller, eyes trained on the television screen before him as he raced his F-Mega car against a computer opponent.

Grumbling, Leone flipped the pancake he was cooking on the stove for them, satisfied (and proud of himself) when the pancake was a good, golden brown color. “I like staying at home.”

Leone Abbacchio once worked as a policeman. Ever since he was charged for being a dirty cop for accepting bribery and letting his partner die in a stakeout, his life has gone downhill. It seemed that the only thing able to numb his pain was alcohol.

Narancia rolled his eyes, “Ugh, you’re such an old man.”

Narancia Ghirga was the only driving force that kept Leone from going crazy. When he had taken Narancia in, he was determined to get his act straight for the teenager. Narancia was a teenage runaway he met when he was drinking his ass off at the pub.

--

The raven-haired teen was strumming his guitar two seats away from Leone at the minibar when a random dude yelled at the teen to stop playing the guitar.

At first, Leone just minded his own business- with no intentions to get involved. But when he heard the thud of the guitar fall down to the floor, he looked in the teenager's direction. His eyes widened when he saw the boy's head whipping to the side when this guy had punched him.

Enraged, Leone had stood up from his stool and with no remorse, landed a swift punch to the offender.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" Leone grunted, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

He was still definitely drunk.

Before he knew it, he had gotten himself into a brawl that the manager had broken apart. Resulting in being kicked out of the pub with a bruised eye and an aching torso.

"You didn't have to do that you know."

The man turned to see the teenager he had taken multiple hits for. He was looking down at the stone pavement, as he fiddled with his hands.

"A thank you would have sufficed. Got my ass kicked thanks to you." Leone rolled his eyes, wincing as he tried to straighten his posture, only to crouch and aid his stricken stomach.

The teen furrowed his brows, "I didn't even ask for your help. You could have just let them and you wouldn't have gotten hurt."

Leone clicked his tongue, "Yeah, well, guys like him are scums anyway. Picking on a kid." His stomach hurt badly, and the hospital was miles away from where they were now. Maybe he could just sleep it off, Leone thought. It’s probably not that bad.

The teen raised his head to look at Leone with furrowed brows and a frown on his lip, "I'm not a kid."

"Just go home already. Your parents are probably worried sick," Gruffed Leone, taking slow strides as he began the route back to his apartment.

"Tch. Padre doesn't care, he doesn't even bother looking for me. I ran away from home." The teenager had started walking along with him, his purple eyes glinting under the moonlight as the took each step. “I’m Narancia, by the way.”

“Leone Abbacchio,” The adult replied, turning his head at Narancia.

The boy seemed lonely, to be honest. If he did run away from home, then it’s most likely he’s got nowhere to stay. Leone contemplated if he should look for a place for Narancia to stay, seeing as sleeping in the streets wouldn’t suffice.

“Have you got any relatives you could stay with?” Asked Leone, swiping his bangs away from his face as the apartment complex had started come to view.

Narancia shook his head, “Nope. Nobody.”

Leone sighed, his heart overcoming his mind, “You can stay at mine for the time being.” He missed the way that Narancia raised his head and looked at the adult beside him with hope in his eyes.

That was two years ago when Narancia was fifteen. At first, Leone wasn’t fond of the idea of having another mouth to feed when he can barely sustain himself. But it just seemed that his sympathy broke through his walls and let the teenager live with him. Even so, Leone would never admit it, but he was damn glad he picked up Narancia that night.

--

Leone scoffed, “ Sta 'zitto, I’m too busy trying to find a new job to go to a concert.” He switched the stove off and placed the two plates with a stack of pancakes on the small dining table right by the kitchen.

When the teen heard the clink of plates against the wooden table, he paused his game, removing the headphones that sat on his ears and headed to the dining table where Leone was drizzling maple syrup over his meal.

“You’ll get to see me play my guitar upstage and you even get a VIP pass for backstage.” Narancia grinned as he sat down on a seat, inhaling the scent of the freshly cooked pancake presented before him.

Leone handed the teen the bottle of maple syrup, “I’ve seen you play your guitar hundreds of times.”

Narancia pointed his fork at him, his head leaning against the palm on his hand as it rested on the surface. “That’s different. This time I’m playing it in front of hundreds of people. It’s my first gig, Abba.”

The long-haired man hummed, “And I’m proud of you, definitely. But do you really want this old man spoiling your fun?”

Narancia rolled his eyes, stuffing his mouth with pancakes. “You’re not gonna be spoiling my fun, besides, I want you to meet Buccellati and the band.”

Leone sighed- this kid is relentless- “Don’t speak when your mouth is full. The band? Band of troublemakers you mean?”

“The good kind of troublemakers, Abbacchio.” Narancia smirked, “Come on! Please? Pretty please?” Then he turned to the grown-up with a smile. The kind of smile that a child makes when they want something. That cute, irresistible, innocent smile that Narancia had mastered which makes it hard for Leone to say NO to.

Leone clicked his tongue.

“Okay, I’ll clean Blues’ litter box and feed her for one whole week.” Narancia compromised, eyes beaming at the adult.

Leone hummed, squinting his eyes as he pursed his lips in thought. “Two weeks.” He countered.

“Deal!” Narancia grinned, taking another bite of his pancake as he internally cheered for himself.

Chuckling, Leone gulped down a glass of orange juice as he watched Narancia eat his pancakes happily. Although he would much rather stay at home, he can’t lie that he’s excited to see Naranicia play upstage. Leone remembered the day the teenager had been so excited when he announced that he landed a job as an acoustic guitarist in Bruno Buccellati’s band.

Suddenly, the two hear a loud meow. They whip their heads to the source and see the black-furred feline, Moody Blues. Her bright blue eyes staring at the two adults as she climbed down from the window sill and approached the dining table.

“Well look who’s back from her nightly adventures.” Leone commented.

Moody Blues hopped onto Leone’s lap and purred. The cat rubs her head on Leone’s chest and releases another meow.

Narancia had been coming home from school once when he heard tiny cries coming from the alleyway he passed on the route home. Curiously, the teen approached the source of the sound and found a cardboard box just resting beside a trash bin. And when he looked in, he saw a frail kitten, crying for something-- most probably her mama or maybe some food.

The kitten reminded him of himself before Leone had generously taken him in. So without a second thought, he carried the box home. Of course, Leone was surprised to see Narancia come through the door with a kitten, telling the teen that they weren’t capable of taking care of a pet.

"Please Abba? I promise to take good care of her!" Narancia had begged him with tear-filled eyes.

And since Leone hated seeing Narancia cry, Leone sighed and eventually gave in. Eventually working out ways on how they’d take care of the kitten.

It really should be a crime of how persuasive Narancia was.

It had been two years since then, the cat which Leone named Moody Blues was purring on his lap.

“She’s practically gone all the time. Wonder what she’s doing out on the streets.” Narancia mentioned, finished up the last of his pancakes.

Leone scratched the back of the feline’s ears, “At least she comes back home. Oh, and your two weeks begin now.”

Narancia groaned but stood up nonetheless, heading to the cupboard where they kept the cat food. He opened up the bag and poured a good amount onto the dark purple food bowl with a silver “Moody Blues” printed on. After that, he placed the food bowl down on the floor and called on Moody Blues.

“Here you go, girl,” Narancia called.

The cat hopped down from Leone’s lap and crawled towards Narancia. She released a meow as she rubbed herself on the legs of the teen, purring thankfully for the meal he’s given her.

“Right, what time is this concert?” Leone questioned as he got up and collected the plates and glasses to wash them up in the sink.

“Well we should be there at 7:30 PM since the band and I need some last-minute rehearses. Buccellati is also treating us to dinner,” Narancia said, “But the concert starts at 9.”

“I don’t even know who this Buccellati is,” Leone remarked as he started up washing the dishes.

Narancia had gone back to his game, determined to win against the F-Mega computer opponent. “You’re always listening to Monteverdi, you hardly get to listen to new songs.”

Leone rolled his purple-yellow eyes, “I didn’t know we were questioning my music tastes.”

"Seriously though, you should start listening to Buccellati. He's got great songs."

"I'll consider it." Were Leone's last words before the rest of the morning was met in silence.

It was now 7 in the morning, Leone was just getting ready to go to the grocery store. After Leone had finished up in the bathroom, he called Narancia from the living room who- to no surprise- was still glued to his gaming console and told him to get ready for school.

In his defense, it was way too early to play video games.

The man stood in front of his dresser, brushing down his mane of pale hair. When he first applied to the police force, his hair was trimmed in a crew cut. But since he wasn’t a cop anymore and months have passed, his hair progressed to grow quite quickly. Before he knew it, it went past his shoulder. He found himself liking his long hair so he opted to keep it.

"Abba, can you get those oranges that you always bring home from the store?" He heard Narancia's voice from the open crevice of his bedroom door.

"Of course I can,” Leone had tied a black elastic around his bunched up hair, pulling the mane into a ponytail before he grabs his wallet and exits his bedroom. “Make sure you lock up, okay? And don’t forget your textbooks this time.” He heads to grab his house keys before adorning himself in a black coat.

“Yeah, got them all packed.” Narancia held up his back-pack with a grin. “See ya later, alligator!”

“After a while, crocodile.”

Leone had found himself walking down the aisle of the grocery store, scanning at the different varieties of fruit displayed in front of him. He’s got a shopping cart grasped in his left hand while the other was buried in his coat pocket. He was looking for the oranges that Narancia loved. Once, Leone had brought home said oranges, and ever since, Narancia had become addicted to the fruit.

“It’s got a different kind of sweetness to it,” Narancia had told him when he asked why it became his favorite.

His eyes trailed over the citrus section when his eyes beamed at the packet of the oranges he was looking for. It was the last of the stock as well. As he went to grab the pack, another hand had seized the item. Dismayed, he went to look at the person who grabbed his oranges and they landed on a young, blonde-headed fellow.

“No, signore. Bruno’s supposed to have an interview tomorrow. He won’t be available until then,” The blonde spoke into the receiver of the phone he was holding.

Leone furrowed his brows and clicked his tongue, “Excuse me, I was going to get those-”

But before he could continue speaking, the blonde male raised a finger as if to silence him, conversing with the person he was talking to on the phone. Leone thought the guy looked ridiculous with three large, round curls sat above his forehead as the rest of his hair was braided behind him. He also looked young.

Leone rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“ Si, thank you for understanding. Ciao, ” The blonde spoke into the phone and ended the call.

“I got those oranges first,” Leone spoke up, glaring at him.

The kid before him removed the sunglasses he was wearing and set his gaze at Leone. “Is that so? They wouldn’t be in my hand if you got them first.” He raised a brow and gestured to the pack of oranges gripped in his hand.

“I was going to grab them but then you-”

“I don’t have time for your complaints, I’m a busy man and my time is short. Just wait for the next stock,”

Leone fumed, lips curled into a snarl. The blonde was about to walk away but then Leone had pulled him back harshly with a tight grip. “Listen here, brat. I got here first, those oranges are mine.”

The lengths he would go through just to please a troublesome kid at home.

The blonde scoffed, “They’re literally just oranges, get another pack. Now let go of me, please.” He tugged on his arm, trying to free himself from this man’s grip on his arm.

“There’s isn’t another pack because that’s the last one,” Leone growled, “I got here first, now hand them over.” Leone wasn’t one to pick up random fights in the grocery store t get the last pack of oranges. However, in this case, he’s definitely not gonna let some donut-headed blonde take the oranges (That he set his eyes on first) that Narancia had generously asked him to buy.

“Please, let go of me or I’ll call security,” The male calmly replied.

“Shut up, I have a kid at home who wants these oranges. I’ll let go once you hand me the oranges,” Leone was holding himself back from punching this kid.

“ Signore, I grabbed the oranges first. Therefore they’re mine.”

Leone poked the kid’s chest, glaringly. If you could squint, you’d probably see the steam fuming from Leone’s ears from how frustrated he was. “ Bastardo, I have seniority here so what I say goes. Are you still going to decline?”

The blonde peered at Leone, and with one motion, he swats at Leone’s hand that has been poking his chest. He glared back at Leone with glinting green eyes. “I’m afraid things will get ugly if you keep going, signore. Trust me, you don’t know what I’m capable of.” He taunted, tilting his head menacingly as if to threaten Leone.

Gritting his teeth, Leone opened his mouth to speak but he was interrupted by another voice joining their conversation.

“Is there a problem, Giorno?”

The two heads turned to see another male. One clad in exquisite clothing with a stylish fedora that sat on his head and adorned white-framed sunglasses. “We’re meant to be at our destination in five minutes,”

Leone found himself staring at the man. There’s something about him that he can’t put his finger on. He finds himself yearning to see the face behind the shades.

“Apologies, Bruno. This man keeps insisting that I stole his oranges,” Said Giorno, moving away from Leone to approach this man called Bruno, the pack of oranges still in his hand.

Leone frowned, “That’s because you did,” He argued, still set on going home with the said oranges.

“All this ruckus for a pack of oranges, boss?” Bruno hummed at Giorno who rolled his eyes.

“I really did get them first,” Giorno claimed.

A huff leaves Leone’s mouth, “I had my eyes on them first.”

Giorno rolled his eyes once more, “Sure, whatever you say. We’re in a hurry, can we please get this over with?”

“I’m not letting you leave with those,” Leone pointed to the pack of oranges in Giorno’s hand.

“I just wanna get them for my kid,”

Wow, Leone could not believe that he’s started to call Narancia his kid. Oh boy, that kid is certainly gonna be the death of him eventually.

Bruno nudges Giorno at his side, “The guy’s got a kid. We can get oranges at another store,”

Giorno raises an offending brow to the man beside him, “ You asked for the oranges, Bruno. I’m only doing what you asked me to do.”

Bruno lets out a sigh, “As I said, we can get oranges at another store. We’re running out of time as well, I still have do warm-ups before tonight.”

Reluctantly, Giorno shakes his head and tosses the pack of oranges to Leone’s direction.

Fucking finally, Leone cheered in triumph.

“Thanks,” Leone mumbled, putting the pack of oranges to his shopping cart.

“Can we go now?” Giorno impatiently asked Bruno who was eyeing Leone scrutinizingly.

With a quirk at the corner of his mouth, he tipped his head to Leone. “Sorry for the trouble, bello,” He slid the shades down the bridge of his nose to get a better look at Leone.

Leone’s cheeks flushed red at the comment, much to Bruno’s delight. He stared back at the striking blue eyes that seemed to see through his soul.

“We’ll get going now,” Bruno smirked at him, putting the shades back in place- unfortunately (For Leone) covering the beautiful eyes he had- before turning to Giorno and nodding at the direction at the exit.

With one last glance, Bruno looked Leone up and down before walking away with Giorno by his side. Then, Leone released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His fist was clenched tightly, but it wasn’t out of anger, it was more of due to the pile of shudders crawling up his spine. Admittedly, Bruno had managed to charm him. To the point where a small flicker of hope that Leone would see him again, especially without that brat Giorno.

Leone released a puff of breath, shaking his head and then heading to the counter to pay for those damn oranges.

< To Be Continued I \ I |

[revengeisalwaysanoption]

FICS: PROPOSTE INDECENTI + AMO GIA’ IL FINALE

I posted these on AO3 back in January. And I really wanted to have something brand new for today, but I am trying as hard as I can to have the fairy tale AU finished by tomorrow, so... Hope you’ll like them! They are BOTH IN ENGLISH ;) !!

PROPOSTE INDECENTI Seconds  

10 - 9

The longest ten seconds of his whole fucking life. Maybe Niccolò really is considering turning it down, given the time and setting.

3 a.m. McDonald's. Sitting on plastic chairs. Lazily eating cold fries and a hamburger that tastes like cardboard with one hand, stroking each other's thumbs with the other. Feeling like the last men on Earth, in a deserted place that would normally be buzzing with life in the daytime.

He should have sticked to his plan, given him his scripted speech this Sunday at the Bioparco. But he didn't, and now...

 8-7

… now he's screwed, isn't he? He fucked it up, and Niccolò is going to carry on and pretend this has been nothing but a bad dream.

He couldn't help it, though. Not when Niccolò was glowing with pride and elation as he showed Martino his first - published, finally!! - illustrated book.

The one Nico had lovingly renamed 'our baby' - and damn if Marti's heart didn't skip a beat at that -  even though all he didn't do much but offer his moral support.

How was he supposed to resist?

 6-5

He looked more beautiful than ever, in an old tracksuit and with a ridiculous headband holding his wild curls at bay. Buzzing with enthusiasm, while he told Marti about how Naima the giraffe who had her head too high in the clouds learnt from Mabel the red panda that she shouldn't fear what's in her heart. That her feelings are never too much, like so many others have been telling her.

Niccolò had always been very secretive about the plot, saying 'It's a surprise' with a mischievous glint in his eyes whenever Martino asked for more details… and right in that very moment he could see why.

"Children emotions tends to be heightened, and therefore often dismissed. I hope this can tell them that they matter, you know? That they're gonna find someone willing to listen, someday. Just like I found you."

It was their story. Edited, tweaked but still the same at its core. Shared to offer some hope to whoever might need it.

How could he not stop Niccolò right there and fumble for the box in his bag?

 4-3

Flinging it into his hands and dropping on one knee felt too predictable and cheap, however.

"I… I think I'm gonna get a milkshake. Would you like me to get you anything? An ice-cream cone? A Flurry?" Then, raising a voice a couple of octaves to make it sound childlike he adds "A Happy Meal?"

"Ahah. You're so funny, have you ever considered a career as a stand-up comedian? Get me a Happy Meal, you ass." And he would have sucked on that raised middle finger, without any shame, had it been a night like any other.

But it wasn't.

 2

Niccolò kept on gloating, until he opened the Happy Meal. His face fell, indeed, when he found the giraffe and red panda wooden figurines connected through a red silk thread and carrying a ring.

Ebony black, like his hair. Adorned with amber and aventurine, which both reminded Martino of his eyes.

Eyes which were now boring into him with a mixture of confusion and… disappointment?

Not exactly the reaction he had been wishing for. The silence between them felt a bit uncomfortable, for the first time in maybe ever, but Martino forced himself to speak.

"I know that I told you, so many times and in so many ways, that nobody knows a fucking thing about what's gonna happen tomorrow but... I am certain about ONE thing and ONE thing only: that I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, as your HUSBAND. Don't you wanna spend the rest of your life with me?"

"That's two things, Marti. Maybe even three. I believe so… but let me just have ten seconds to think it through, okay?"

 1

"Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. " He finally says. Each yes said before a kiss, his smile getting brighter and brighter as they both start crying. Tears they brush away with gentle fingertips, with soft lips.

"A thousand times yes, Marti." Niccolò reiterates, resting his forehead against his fiancé's. Not an old fashioned to say 'boyfriend' when you significant one is not exactly a boy anymore, but the real deal now.

Fiancé. Betrothed. Soon to be husband. He can't wait to refer to Martino using those term with friends, colleagues, guests, relatives. With all those random people he ends up talking to while queuing up at the post office - on the bus, on the train, on the subway. The whole world needs to know, and he is certain that Marti feels like the same.

"Once is more than enough."

-----------

   Minutes  

It still doesn’t feel real, even though he has had some minutes to let it sink in. Despite the weight of the ring dangling from his necklace - "how very Frodo of you…" "Are you calling your future husband a fucking hobbit, Mr Rametta?" - and his proposal still echoing in his ears, he fears he might wake up any minute now. Alone.

He has to take refuge in Marti’s arms, grounding himself in his warm and tight embrace. Nothing can touch him, when he’s there. Nothing can reach him, apart from Martino’s smell and the palpable solidity of his body.

"I can take it back, if you’d like." Marti mumbles, against his helix piercing.

"Don’t you dare!" Niccolò protests, first jabbing his ribs with his forefinger and then flicking his nose.

"I mean… you don't sound positively thrilled about it…" He points out, puzzled to hear Niccolò chuckle.

"Well, we're talking about spending the rest of my life with the most boring gay I've ever met…" Nico sighs dramatically, but then he gets dreadfully serious. He is so overjoyed, so full of love he could burst, and Martino better not end up thinking otherwise. "I couldn't be happier… You know that, right? I simply wanted to be the one to propose."

"Well, maybe you still can. Fifteen or twenty years from now, when we'll feel like renewing our vows or some shit…" Martino suggests, standing up and cleaning their table. They must go now, if they want to have some time left to spare to celebrate home before heading out again to work.

"Sounds lovely. You have such a way with words, Marti." Niccolò shoves him playfully, but files that piece of information into a secured corner of his brain. Might come in handy, in the future. "And how do you know about renewals, anyway? Don't tell me you've been bingewatching 'Say Yes To The Dress' on RealTime!"

"Whaaat? Me? Nope. Never. Must have heard something from Filo. Or was it Edo?"

*************

AMO GIA’ IL FINALE

Hours  

Hours have gone by. It took them twice longer than usual to reach their flat, unable to walk more than a few steps without stopping for a quick peck. Or a full on make out session against a couple of closed, sturdy, doors.

Clothes were discarded on the floor as soon as they stepped inside, and they had made love until dawn. Exhausted, by then, they had fallen asleep.

Fear has had time to come knocking, and with it the painful reminder that people always leave. Or get sick of each other, and stay together only to keep up appearances.

No. That's not gonna happen. Not to them. Not when they are perfectly aware that gonna have to make a promise to each other not only on that day… but every second, every minute, every hour they spend together. Or apart.

Not necessarily with words. Which little gestures, too. Cherish their love. Never take it for granted.

"I promise you that we can make it. From now, to infinity." Martino says, softly, as he lays a kiss on Niccolò chest. Right where his heart is, just like Nico did so many years before under those red lights.

"To infinity and beyond."

"Don't start quoting Toy Story when I'm trying to be deep, Ni."

"It doesn't suit you. Now, up up up. Put something on and come with me... I don't want to miss watching the sunrise and cuddling with my betrothed on my cozy balcony."

"You are unbelievable."

"And you love that."

"I sure do, don't I?"

   Imagination  

This is absolutely not what Niccolò or Martino had in mind.

The unnecessary opulence, the stifling atmosphere in spite of the marvelous outdoor venue.

"It's not like you had a clear picture of what you wanted, anyway." Anyone would argue, and they would be right.

It had been easy enough to picture it back in Milan, where having a wedding in their birthday suits had sounded like the coolest idea he had ever had… But now Nico can't really see how that would go down, can't imagine it wouldn't be a complete catastrophe.

Like any other scenario they came up with. Some are too over the top, and would make Martino feel uncomfortable. Some are too dull, and would be an ill match to Niccolò's eccentricity.

Someone had to take the matter into their hands, and it wasn't like Silvia had done a bad job with the very little input she had from the grooms.

Maybe they could settle for this?

***************

   Instinct  

Or maybe not.

Martino refused to make this day, their day, about anyone else but themselves.

His in-laws were probably going to hate him for this, as firm believers of a time and a place for spontaneity, and their own friends were surely going to hold it against them for the next fifty years or so… but who cared?

Not him. Not when he was witnessing the first real smile of the week from Niccolò, merely by showing up on his old bike.

"Get on." It took him some fumbling, since a tight fitting tuxedo wasn't really the best attire for riding a bike, but eventually he managed to sit comfortably behind Martino.

"Where are we going?" He asked, presuming to be filled in about Marti's plan for the next few hours.

"Wherever the fuck we want." Martino said, instead, refusing to tell Niccolò anything concerning their destination. Or what they would do, once they reached it.

It didn't take too long to get to a church that Niccolò knew all too well. He had often joked about getting married in its crypt, surrounded by skulls and chandeliers made of human bones. Too bad it was hardly ever opened to the public, and totally unavailable for any kind of celebration.

"And how exactly are you planning to get in?" He inquired, walking over to the locked door.

"I might have asked Filippo to make me a copy of the key, when he got one for his photography project. Off the record." Because he knew Niccolò would love to stroll through the building undisturbed. Taking in its macabre allure, appreciating the fleeting nature of his own existence.

"Uh… Martino Rametta breaking the law by owning something he's not supposed to? A man after my own heart, I must say."

"I thought I already had it. Your heart, I mean." He commented, offhandedly, as he cursed and kicked against the rusty old door. "Oh, come on! Jesus! You were working just fine last time!"

"And this wonderful hint of blasphemy, right in front of a church. Wow." Niccolò reached out for him, then, pinning his open palm onto his own chest. "You're not mistaken, by the way. This has been yours for years."

"Same here." Marti turned to take his hand, and l let him feel how fast his heart was beating.

And then, as Marti was leaning in for a kiss, Nico moved back and brazenly snatched the keys.

"You know I've got the magic touch. Don't know whether it's in the fingers on in the wrists…"

"You better leave those innuendo at the door, Ni."

"Or what? You'll punish me, Father? You'll drag me into one of the confessionals and…"

… and he might had been tempted to do that, to drop on his knees and worship this man… Before he was basically challenged to reign in his wildest fantasies. Oh, he knew Niccolò wouldn't even try to play fair but still… He was so going to win this.

******

   Memory  

"... and then?" The kids asked, trying to get Mr. David's attention.

"Mh?" He had been distracted by an old lady coming to congratulate him on finally tying the knot a couple of weeks before. Shoelaces were a challenge for anyone, indeed, so it made sense he got praised for achieving that goal… Even though it took him so many years.

And that hadn't been the only interruption. For same weird reason their parents kept butting in to tell them shouldn't bother Mr. Fares. Or his 'partner'. They don't say 'husband', for some reason. Despite it being the word David uses for Michelangelo.

Grown up are so, so dumb.

"You ran away from your own wedding, got to a spooky church… and then? What happened?"

"Did you find a body and have to solve a murder?"

"I'm afraid not. We walked inside, and I read him my vows. He gave me his. I can show them to you, if you'd like? I always carry them in my pocket." Most didn't quite understand what was so great about two stick figures on a badly drawn giraffe, but the words written on the side sounded nice. Especially the closing line.

 Per quanta strada abbiam fatto, e per quanta  ancora ce n'è da fare… Amo già il finale.

"Booooring! I bet you went back to the ranch for the actual ceremony, after that?"

"Wrong. Remember that I started telling you all about this day because Meni asked what was the biggest prank I've ever pulled on my friends and family… That's it: making them all believe they would see US getting married and then have two other people saying 'I do' that afternoon. And this day I'm still quite proud I could pull that off. And so is my husband. I mean, our old folks were THIS close to believe we had been kidnapped."

Impressive. Kind of. Perhaps grown up can be cool, once in a blue moon?

"Ni? Nico? Earth to Niccolò Fares?" Not fair! He was a grown up! Why was he getting sweets before dinner?

"Yeah yeah, I can hear you loud and clear Marti." He gulped down his candies in a heartbeat.  And then gave him a quick kiss, saying "Thanks, love."

Huh? Nico? Marti? Then why their moms - and a couple of their dads - referred to him as Michelangelo's David?

Grown ups are so, so weird.

[mustangshelby04]

Boston Boy - Chapter 16

A/N All right guys, there’s only one more chapter after this! But don’t worry your beautiful heads off, I’ll be doing some one shots to continue the story. Let me know what you want to see. I would love to get your ideas for the future of this beautiful couple!

Kate sat in the nursery with Gally curled up next to her and Dodger sitting with his head on her leg.  She looked around the room and admired hers and Chris’ handiwork.  They had gone with a Winnie the Pooh theme, using the original drawings of the characters since the colors were softer.  Chris had bought a beautiful and very plush, white and gray glider with a gliding foot rest for the nursery and it was Kate’s favorite place in the penthouse now.  She would spend hours rocking in the chair and dreaming up what her child’s life would be.

The glider was the only piece of furniture in the room beyond a bookshelf that was already starting to collect books.  The travel system from Ellen was sitting in one corner of the room with a large box full of the rest of the amazing gifts from her.  The rest of the furniture hadn’t been bought yet.  She and Chris were ordered not to buy anything beyond the glider.

Kate was now four weeks away from her due date and was beyond ready for it to be over with.  The world tour she’d joined Chris for had taken a lot out of her.  While she had had a ton of fun, her body just hadn’t been up to the task of that much fun and growing a small human at the same time. She had taken another week off and then gone back to work.  Unfortunately, the doctor was worried about her blood pressure and her showing some early warning signs of preeclampsia, so he had asked her to stop working as much as she had been.

Danielle had been amazing about everything.  She had two kids of her own and understood what Kate needed better than Kate herself did.  She had promised that Kate’s job was secure when she was ready to come back full time. Until then, she would only work part time if she felt up to it.

Chris walked into the nursery and chuckled. “You know, you can’t hide forever.”

“Who says I can’t try?” Kate retorted.

He just held his hands out to help her stand up. “Everyone is downstairs waiting.”

She took his hands and let him lift her to her feet. “I hate baby showers. And bridal showers for future reference.”

“Noted.  Not like I can do anything about it.  You’ve met my mother.  And my sisters and my brother.  You’re welcome to fight that.”

“Chicken shit.”  

“But hey, the cake is really pretty.”

“You weren’t supposed to go downstairs.”

“I needed something to drink.  They kicked me out pretty quickly.”

Lisa, Carly, Shanna, Scott, and Helena had all decided that they were going to decorate and Kate and Chris weren’t allowed to see any of it.  They didn’t even know who was on the guestlist. The whole thing had been kept hush-hush from the parents-to-be.

“I can’t wait to get our place to ourselves again.”

“It is feeling a bit crowded this week.  Careful!” Since the doctor had mentioned the preeclampsia (and Chris had done research on it), he had been hyperactively protective of her.  He freaked out if she tried to walk up and down stairs by herself.  She just rolled her eyes at him.

“Happy baby shower!” Everyone yelled and Chris and Kate came down the stairs.

There were so many people there!  Helena, Bill and Jan, and Lisa, Carly, Shanna, and Scott were obviously there; Chris’ dad, Bob and his wife; Kate’s aunt Charlotte had come up from Virginia and her uncle Ron and aunt Debbie had come in from Chicago; Scarlett Johansson had come; Downey and his wife were there; Chris’ best friend, Tara, had made it down; April was there; Danielle had come with her husband, Charles; Amy had driven up for the occasion; Sebastian Stan had shown up; and Megan was there, too.  The place was decorated with pink and blue streamers and balloons that said, “It’s a Boy” and “It’s A Girl” on them.  There were a few that said, “Boy or Girl?”  There was a massive pile of presents in the living room.  The cake and food had been set up in a beautiful display on the kitchen island and a drink station with a blue punch and a pink punch was set up on the kitchen counter.  There were little woodland creature decorations everywhere, too.

Carly and Scott walked over to Kate and Chris.  Carly draped a “Mommy-To-Be” sash over Kate while Scott pinned a “Daddy-To-Be” button to Chris’ shirt.  Lisa and Helena were both wearing pins that said “Grandma-To-Be.”  Someone had made a diaper cake and set it next to the actual cake, which was two tiers of cutesy woodland creatures running amok.  There was a photobooth area with different props for the pictures that Danielle had kindly set up and offered to run.

“Happy baby shower!” Carly squealed, kissing Kate’s cheek.

“That is a fuckton of presents.” Kate said.

“We’ll get to those.  Right now, we want pictures!”

Chris and Kate were stood at the photobooth and the guests that wanted pictures were allowed to pick the props.  It took a good half hour before they were allowed to get food.  Chris fixed her a plate so she could go sit down.  The love seat had been decorated with blue and pink streamers and someone had created the backs of thrones out of cardboard. One said Daddy and was painted blue and the other said Mommy and was painted pink.  There were even fake pink and blue jewels glued to both of them to make them even more throne-like.

Carly made Chris and Kate sit in their respective seats while people ate and Shanna hosted the three games they had planned.  April won the game where the guests had to use string to guess how big around Kate’s stomach was.  She received a gift bag filled with home spa items.  The second game was where the guests had to guess what candy bar was melted in the different diapers.  Tara had won that game and was given a gift bag filled with candles, an engraved picture frame, and various candies.  The third and final game was called “My Water Broke” where everyone had been given an ice cube with a plastic baby in it.  The first person who’s baby was free of the ice had to yell that their water broke. Sebastian had been overenthusiastic when yelling it, startling everyone in the room.  He had walked away with a $50 VISA gift card.

While everyone started throwing their plates away, Helena had Chris and Kate cut the cake.  She stayed to serve the pieces to everyone while the parents-to-be took their love seat thrones again.  Carly, Shanna, and Scott had begun moving presents closer to the love seat to be passed over to Chris and Kate.  While they waited for everyone to get their slices of cake and eat them, Scarlett came over and sat down next to Kate on Chris’ side of the loveseat.  Chris had gotten up and was across the room talking with his father and Bill.  Probably getting some dad advice.

“You’re not having any fun, are you?” Scarlett said conspiratorially to Kate.

“Not in the slightest.” Kate said. “I hate showers.  And I feel like a bloated whale.”

“I hate these things, too.  Just give me the presents and don’t make a fuss.”

“Exactly!”  

“And for the record, you don’t look like a bloated whale.” She held her hand out to Kate. “Your fiancé sucks at introductions.  I’m Scarlett.” “Kate.”

“I’m sorry we’re just now meeting.  I wanted to come along on the Civil War tour, but I had some prior engagements.”

“It’s ok.”

“Chris has talked almost non-stop about you and the baby.  I’m so happy for you guys.”

“I’ve actually been kind of nervous to meet you.”

“Yeah?  Why’s that?”

“Chris talks so highly of you.  You’re one of his closest friends.”

“Oh, I’m not that scary.”

“I didn’t think you would be, and hey, I survived meeting Tara.”

“She’s a cool chick.”

“Yeah.”

“If I’m being honest, I’ve been kind of nervous to meet you, too.”

Kate laughed. “Me?  Oh god, why?”

“Well, I’ve met a few of Chris’ girlfriends.  None of them, in my opinion, have measured up to what I think my friend deserves.  I can be a little protective of him.  I was a little nervous that you wouldn’t measure up, too.”

“That scares me.” “Don’t worry.  From what I can tell, you exceed expectations.  Chris looks genuinely happier than I’ve ever seen him. Downey, Mackie, Lizzie, and Hemmy all sing your praises.”

“They’re sweet.”

“So how are you feeling?”

“Um…. Done.  I’m feeling done.  If Jelly Bean wants to vacate the premises, I won’t stop him or her.”

“I remember those days.  They pretty much sucked.”

“Yes.  Yes, they do.”

“You’re in the home stretch now.”

“Thankfully!”

“Any contractions yet?”

“Lots of Braxton Hicks.  They’ve been happening a lot on and off today.”

“It’s all the excitement.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“Oh god, have you started nesting yet?”

“Yes!  It’s insane! It’s been driving me batty not to have the furniture we need to finish the nursery.  We were told to hold off on the big stuff.”

“I would love to see it.”

“Yeah?” Kate started the struggle to get up and Scarlett helped her to her feet. The two women headed around into the kitchen and started up the stairs.

“Whoa, hey.” Chris came rushing over. “Where are you going?”

“To show Scarlett the nursery.”

“I’ll come with.”

“Chris, baby, I can walk up the stairs without help.”

“But….”

“Go back to the party, Evans.” Scarlett joked. “You’re being a helicopter mom right now.”

Chris looked at them with wide, puppy dog eyes. “I’m immune to those things now.” Kate said. “Put them away before you strain your eyes.  I’ll be fine.”

Scarlett laughed and followed Kate upstairs, turning briefly to mouth to Chris, “I really like her.”

Ten minutes later, the two walked back downstairs arm in arm and laughing. It made Chris happy to see that they had hit it off and seemed as thick as thieves already.  Lisa walked over and apologized to Scarlett before taking Kate away. She and Chris spent the next hour and a half opening all of the presents that their guests had brought and ones that had been sent from friends that couldn’t make it to the shower.  Carly was writing down what they got and who sent it so Chris and Kate could send out thank you cards later.

When the shower finally wound down and people began leaving, they were given cute little gift bags with travel-sized hand sanitizers from Bath and Body Works, mini-jar candles from Yankee Candle, some butter mints in a little baby bottle, and little engraved frames holding a picture from Chris’ and Kate’s maternity shoot that Danielle had insisted on doing.  The only ones left at the end of the night were Amy, Lisa, and Scott.  Helena and Bill had declined the offer to stay at the penthouse and had gotten a hotel nearby.  Lisa and Amy were staying at the penthouse in the two guest rooms while Scott was taking the couch from Kate’s garage apartment that Chris had put in the downstairs guest room that they had turned into an office for him and Kate.  Carly and Shanna had driven back to Sudbury so Carly could get back to her kids and Shanna could get to work in the morning.

“We’ll start working on putting this all together tomorrow.” Lisa said.

“I can’t believe we got all of this stuff!” Chris said. “Everyone is so sweet for doing this.” Kate let out a heavy breath and rubbed her stomach. “What’s wrong?” Chris was on instant high alert.

“Braxton-Hicks.” Kate said. “They’ve been happening on and off all day.”

“Are you sure?  Should we call the doctor?”

“I have an appointment tomorrow.  I’ll be fine.”

“Do you need anything?” Lisa asked.

“Actually, I’ve got a headache and I’m feeling kind of tired.  I want to go upstairs and lay down.”

Chris stood up and helped her to her feet. “I’ll be back down in a little bit.”

“Go on up and stay with her.” Lisa said. “We’ll clean up down here.”

“Thanks, ma.”

Kate sighed as Chris helped her change into her usual oversized T-shirt she slept in, take her contacts out, and lay down on their bed. “Thanks.”

“Are you ok?”

“Could you grab some Tylenol for me?”

“Of course.” Chris rushed into the bathroom and came out with Tylenol and a glass of water.  He set to work massaging her feet, but stopped when he noticed how swollen they were. “Babe, are you sure you’re ok?”

“I’m a little dizzy, but I think that’s cause of the headache and all the fun today.”

“Kat, your feet and legs are really swollen.  That’s a sign of preeclampsia.  So are headaches and dizziness.”

“The doctor did say I was at risk.  We’re going tomorrow, so we can ask then.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to call now?”

“Chris, it’s late.”

“It’s nine at night.”

“Well, that’s late enough.” Kate curled up on her side. “I’m going to sleep.”

“I’m going to brush my teeth and take my contacts out, then I’ll join you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He leaned over and kissed her.

 *_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Chris woke up to the sounds of his name being called between gagging coming from the bathroom.  The clock said it was around three in the morning.  He quickly jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom.  Kate was clinging to the toilet, shaking and crying. “Hey….” He moved to her side and let out a curse when he saw the blood in the toilet. “Kate!”

“Chris, I don’t feel good.” Kate sobbed.

“We’re going to the hospital.” He jumped up and ran out of the room. “MA!” Chris burst through the guest bedroom door, startling his mother awake. “Ma, it’s Kate!  Help!”

Lisa was up like a shot.  She followed Chris into the bedroom and then pushed past him when she heard Kate. “Oh no! Sweetheart…. Chris, get her some clothes.”

“What’s going on?” Amy asked from the doorway to the bedroom.

“I’m taking Kate to the hospital.” Chris said, grabbing a pair of yoga pants out of one of Kate’s drawers while dialing the number to a car service on his cell phone. “Can you go wake up Scott?”

“Yeah!” Amy turned and ran downstairs.

Lisa was running a washrag over Kate’s face, whispering comforting words to her. “Come on, Katie.  Let’s get your clothes on.” Chris came over and gave his mother the yoga pants as he dialed the emergency number to Kate’s doctor.

Scott ran in, throwing a shirt on. “What’s going on?”

“Scott, come help me.” Scott rushed over and helped his mother get Kate into her pants and shoes. “Amy, honey, do you have Helena’s phone number?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Amy said. “I’ll call her.  Where are you going?  I mean, what hospital?”

“New York Presbyterian.” Chris said. “It’s not far.”

“Ok. I’ll call her.”

“Here,” Chris grabbed the pen and notepad out of Kate’s nightstand drawer. He quickly wrote down a number for the car service and another number underneath it. “Call this number and give them this account number.  Send a car for her family, they’re at the Millennium Hilton, and then get one for yourself.  I’ve already got one on the way.” He turned and swept Kate up into his arms.  Scott and Lisa helped steady them as they walked down the stairs.

 *_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Kate looked around the private birthing suite and sighed.  She had been poked with needles and had an IV in her arm, ready to administer drugs if needed.  They had brought in an ultrasound and had hooked her up to a fetal monitor after taking her for a CT scan.  Chris sat on the bed next to her, holding her hand.  He was the only one allowed in with her right now.

“I just want to go home.” Kate said, laying her head down on Chris’ shoulder.

He kissed the top of her head. “I know, baby.”

Doctor Beauchamp walked into the room and looked at the waiting couple. “Well, the blood in your vomit is from a small tear in the lining of your esophagus. Sometimes this happens with the nausea and vomiting during pregnancy.  It’s manageable if we can control the nausea and get you to eat soft foods for seven to ten days.  What concerns me is the protein in your urine, Kate, and how high your blood pressure is.  We talked about you being preeclamptic and you’re showing enough of the signs right now.”

“So, what’s the plan, Doc?” Chris asked.

“I want you, Kate, to try and make it to 39 weeks.  Right now, you’re still within reason to give birth naturally like you want, so what I’m going to do is keep you here for the next two weeks so we can monitor you, but you’re on strict bedrest.”

“You’re not going to induce?” Kate asked.

“I could and I might even be able to do it more naturally than giving you Pitocin since you’re dilated to one, but I don’t want to and I know you want to avoid the Pitocin at all costs.”

“Yes!”  

“I want Jelly Bean to bake for a little longer, so two weeks here on bedrest. You’re only allowed out of that bed to go to the bathroom and to take very quick showers.  Chris, you may want to go home and pack some of Kate’s stuff. Comfortable, loose fitting clothes, please.”

“You got it.” Chris said. “Anything.”

“Ok. I’m going to go discuss with the nurses everything they need to know and I’ll be back later with a list of some super fun bedrest rules.” Doctor Beauchamp walked out and Kate burst into tears.

“Hey,” Chris pulled Kate to him tightly. “Shh, it’s ok.  It’s only two weeks and then we’ll meet our little Jelly Bean.”

“But there’s so much to get done before then!”

“Ma isn’t going anywhere anytime soon and neither is Scott.  I’m pretty sure your mom isn’t leaving now.  I can call in whoever else we need to get the stuff put together before the baby arrives.”

“But I won’t get to help.”

“I can bring some stuff here for you to work on.”

“I just want to go home.”

“You will.  And when you do, you’ll be holding Jelly Bean.” Chris kissed her sweetly. “I’m going to go let everyone know what’s going on and see if we can have anyone back here besides us.”

 *_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Over the next week, Kate didn’t show much change.  Which wasn’t a bad thing.  She had started to dilate some more, so the doctor was happy that she might even give birth without any help.  Bill and Jan had gone home, but Helena had decided to stay to be there with her daughter.  She and Lisa were staying at the penthouse with Scott.  They Facetimed with Chris and Kate so the couple could help finish decorating the nursery with the furniture they had gotten.  

On her twelfth day there, July 8th, Dr. Beauchamp had decided they didn’t need to wait any longer.  She decided to try the more natural induction of labor by going in and stripping the membranes.  It was extremely painful, and Chris had no idea how that much of the doctor’s arm fit up inside his fiancée, but it was effective.  Kate’s contractions had set in and she went into active labor.  Chris was by her side for every single minute with Lisa and Helena taking turns on Kate’s free side.  Kate labored for fourteen hours before it was finally time to push. Dr. Beauchamp allowed Kate to move around and try to find more comfortable positions to deliver the baby in, but nothing was working.

“Kate, the baby is stuck and going into distress.” Dr. Beauchamp announced. “We need to get this baby out now.  I’m going to have to do a c-section.”

“No.” Kate growled, trying to push again.

“Kate, you need to stop pushing.  This baby isn’t going to come out naturally and you’re only going to hurt yourself and the baby if you keep trying.”

Kate let out a scream as another contraction bore down on her. “I need to push!”

“Kate, your blood pressure is through the roof.  You need to calm down.”

Chris tried soothing Kate, but nothing helped.  Doctor Beauchamp called for the anesthesiologist to meet them in the OR with a spinal tap while she administered an anti-anxiety medicine. Kate was so scared and so worked up that the medicine didn’t have much of an effect.  Chris was made to stay in the room while they got Kate prepped for surgery.  He paced the floor, waiting for them to come get him.  They had told him it wouldn’t take more than ten minutes.  It had now been thirty minutes.  He was about to start kicking doors in when a nurse came to get him.

Kate was strapped down to the OR table with a sheet pinned up as a screen. She was still panicking and gripped his hand tightly.  He whispered comforting words and tried to keep her focus on him.  She kept complaining about how bad her upper back was hurting and she couldn’t get comfortable.  The doctor and nurses begged her to stop writhing, but she was in too much pain. They gave her a booster on her spinal tap and that seemed to do the trick some.  The doctor took advantage to quickly perform the c-section.  Chris stood up to peer over the curtain to see the baby come slithering out of the open wound.  The baby’s cry echoed in the room and Kate closed her eyes in relief.

“It’s a girl!” Doctor Beauchamp announced.

Chris turned to Kate and started to say something, but the words died on his lips as the sound of the alarm on the heart monitor went off.  The nurses came up and told him to leave, but he refused.  He began yelling at them to help Kate and security was brought in to physically remove him from the room.  They took him back to the birthing suite where his mother and Helena were waiting.  They jumped up and he started to sob.

“I don’t know what’s happening!” Chris cried. “They won’t tell me anything. She was in pain and they gave her more drugs and just after the baby was born, her heart rate dropped.”

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[dimensionwriter]

Mechanical Heart

Mechanical Heart

Part 3

M! Andriod x F! Reader

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It's been so long since I've uploaded. Gonna let you get to the story, so enjoy. Also, please read the bottom section.

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You swiftly glanced over to see Axel was stiff and looking straight forward. He looked so odd in your human size car. The tip of his metal head brushed against the roof of your car, but he looked as if everything was normal.

"I can't believe Screw and Daniel funded this. I think they just wanted to get rid of me," you joked trying to lighten the mood. Earlier, you busted into Screw and Daniel's office to explain how you needed funds in order to redecorate your office. Daniel said no before you even finish talking.

You talked about how redecorating your office would help Axel and you work better together. You even happily pointed out how greatly decorate their office was and how expensive everything was. And how their bosses must have given them more money to do it. They kicked you out with a credit card in your hand, telling you to just hurry up.

You saw something appear onto Axel's screen causing you to glance over. "You blackmailed them." The font was a lot smaller than usual. You guess that was him mumbling.

"I wouldn't say blackmailing. More like saying I reveal to them that I have information that they would hate to have brought to light," you said throwing a wink his way. You pulled up into a parking spot that was quite close to the enterance.

"We are not suppose to threaten superiors," he stated in a bolder font. You rolled your eyes at him while waving your hands dismissively. They really do make the androids more obedient.

"Well, it's a thing of the past. Come on," you said jumping out of the car. You slammed the door shut and looked across the car for Axel. When you didn't see him, you bent over to look through your window for him. He was still sitting in the seat looking straight forward.

"Axel?" You asked lightly knocking on the window. He slowly turned towards you with his screen still black. You raised your eyebrows trying to hint at him to get out.

His screen continued to stay pitch black. It felt the equilivant of a blank stare. Did he not know how to get out of a car? No, of course not. He knew how to get in a car and even how to put on his seatbelt.

"Axel, are you coming?" You asked tilting your head. A question mark appeared quickly on his screen before disappearing.

"I am not required for this mission. So I should reside in this transportation until you finish," he wrote slolwly on the screen in that boring grey times new roman font. Can he not type in any other font?

"Well, it's not required, but I would like for you to come," you said giving him a smile. His screen stayed towards you for a while before his hand moved to unbuckle the seat belt.

You stood up straight as you waited on him to exit. He moved quite slow getting out of the car, but at least he was finally exiting.

"Well, Axel. Welcome to Office Depot," you said splaying your arms out to the giant sign. This was going to be the place where your office went from ordinary to extraordinary.

"We are getting this," you yelled throwing another random object in the basket. Okay, so maybe you were getting unecessary stuff, but it would be nice to make the office more lively.

"I do not believe that a penguin tape dispenser is required to complete a task," he wrote with a red gradient at the end of his words. You glanced at the two full baskets.

"I guess I could get rid of a few things," you said tapping your chin. You took out the peguin dispenser, the 24 highlighter packet, the diamond skull that served as a pencil holder and few other items.

"If I may insert the idea that this desk and chairs are uneccesaary," he pointed to the bottom of the carts which held those items. You shook your head at him and put on a stern face.

"This is the most comfortable desk and chair here, how could you not want it? Plus this desk is big enough to fit the both of us and also have a shelf attached to the sides with plenty of draws for the paper work," you excitedly explain running your hand against the cardboard boxes. This desk is going to make this job so much easier, you know it will.

"I do not required the need to sit. So I will put this chair back," he said swiftly grabbing the box and holding it with one arm. That is surely heavy, but he's picking it up as if it weighed nothing.

"Wait, no," you said running up and wrapping your arms around his biceps. Wow, they feel so firm and are huge. The way it's stretching his leather jacket out is absolutely beautiful.

You shook your head trying to get those thoughts out of your head. Stop thinking about your partner like that. Plus he's an robot, it's so wrong to think of them like that.

"You may not be required to sit, but you can still sit," you pleaded pulling on his arms. A few shoppers turned your way. You felt childish, but this chair would great with your desk.

"I do not require to sit. Also, please let go of my arm," he said turning his screen down at you. The gradients on the words were turning them more red than grey. Is he getting mad?

"I will let go once you promise to keep the chair," you said tighting your grip. His free hand went and grabbed the back of your work jacket. You didn't have time to ask him what he was doing before he yanked upwards.

Your grip slipped off of his arm and you just dangled there. He pulled you close to his screen causing you to hear his engine's fans wheering.

"I. DONT. NEED. THE. CHAIR." He wrote in blood red writing with the times new roman font bolded. "WE. ARE. NOT. GETTING IT. NOW STOP ACTING CHILDISH."

This is the first time he shows emotions and it's because he's angry that you want to get a simple chair. Someone got their wires tangled.

You crossed you arms, with a little hardship due to most of your jacket being pulled up. "Then can we get the bean bag then," you asked pouting your lips and fluttering your eyes at him.

A bunch of dots appeared on his skin as you heard some of his cooling systen being activated. I guess he's not a shopping robot. He has low patience for this. Even though he's suppose to be the best of the best, but you guess that it's in jobs that require no feeling.

"Fine," he wrote in the smallest font. You had to lean towards the screen to see the words. As soon as you read them, they disappeared.

"Seriously," you exclaimed grabbing his screen to make sure he wasn't doing some type of joke. Even though you're sure he can't even do that.

He released his grip on your jacket, allowing you to gently land back on your feet. He crossed his arms as he leaned threatingly forward. "Go before I change my mind."

You didn't know you could move that fast without bullets flying your way. Even though the words were in red, he was actually quite, dare you say, being nice. Or maybe it was the excitement of getting a bean bag in your office. Who knows?

A couple of hours later, you stood in front of your new decorated office with an overwhelming array of glee. It looked like the dream office they put in commercials to convince people to join their businesses. But here you are, with your own one.

There was only one thing that stood out, Axel. He was standing in the corner of the room, away from the lively decorations and furinture. He looked stiff, even more than usual.

"Are you okay, Axel?" You asked with your eyebrows dropping in concern. Was it too much? Maybe he had a reason for getting angry because your were ignoring his opinions. This won't look good in your bosses' eyes/ screen. Maybe Screw was correct in assuming you were speciest.

"I'm not use to this room being… this colourful," he said tilting his head slightly. He looked adorable doing that. Like, he was struggling to put his finger on the correct word to use.

"Well, compared to the old office that was entirely grey, this would appear more colourful," you said turning around and backing up until you were next to Axel. You could see where he was coming from. It can be a shock. "You can get rid of some stuff if you would like."

You looked up to try to see his answer, but his screen was already facing down at you. A bunch of dots formed a line on his screen as he tilted his head around. "You're willing to do that for me. But you seemed excited to obtain these object," he finally typed while extending his hand to show the room.

"This is your office too. You have a say in what should be in here and how it should look," you stated looking back at the room. It seemed perfect to you, but it won't seem right if Axel is uncomfortable the entire time.

A warm hand touched your shoulder causing you to jump. You looked up to see an entire paragraph on the screen. You blinked and readied your eyes to read it, but it disappeared it.

You open your mouth to voice your concern before something else filled his screen. "Thanks, but it's fine. I can get use to it." The writing was different than his usual time new roman grey, but looked kind of similar.

"Are you sure? Because if I find out that you're lying, I have a tazer close by," you jokingly threaten poking his chest. Why was his chest so firm? It didn't have the hardness of metal, but felt nice. You wondered what it would feel like to hug it.

"Electricity doesn't do that type of damage effect on us," he wrote in the same weird font, but there was a slight colour to it now. Was it pink? Why does his words have a pink hue to it? These are questions you never thought you would be asking, but here you are.

"Then how about a gun?" You asked taking a power stance. You had a smile on your face as you stared at his black reflective screen. You felt a lot more easy around him, since the two of you have warmed up a bit.

He didn't respond and was back stiff. You dropped your stance and stared at him in confusion. Maybe he was trying to process what you said. Hopefully, he took it as a joke instead of a threat.

"Our bosses has assigned us a mission that we need to complete before going to your residental space," he wrote standing up straight. He started walking forward and went straight past you without any type of instructions.

You are not an andriod; you can't just have the information shot through your head. You could take the elevator to your bosses' office, but you had a strong hunch that Axel wouldn't wait that long for you.

He is the best agent that have here, so he's probably use to working fast. This might be a strugggle.

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Writer's block is a b*tch to fight. I feel a little rusty at writing, but I did want to get something out. Anyway, as usual, PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT. I love to read you guys messages and it helps me understand my audience a little more. A new thing I'm interested in doing is writing a HC for any of my character. Ask any question you have for my characters and I'll do a little hc for them or answer it (to an extent. NSFW is an absolute no, this is a blog for everyone. Sorry). Now if you excuse me, I will begin working on the next stoy for my blog. Love you guys, peace.

[apple-grass-and-smiles]

Leading Us Home

In an absolutely miraculous and never-to-be-seen-again series of events, inspiration struck twice in the course of 24 hours, so you get another Batcat story adapted from a Taylor Swift song and thousands of words in various chats about the meaning of home to Selina.

Summary: Selina has a motto: "You can't have a home if you don't have a house."

           Selina, at her most basic, core self, has a pretty major issue with the word ‘home’. Like most important (but sad) ideas that become fundamental to understanding an individual, it’s an issue that started when she was a child. Selina remembers being six, maybe seven, the first time she got caught by the police. The officer was a large man who clearly was more interested in the baseball game going on in the background than Selina or the fact that she was so malnourished that you could count all her ribs if you bothered to give her more than a cursory glance. She can still see him bending down to look her in the eye, completely ignoring the bruises and cuts that covered every inch of her skin, and asking her where home was.

           Even at the tender age of six or seven, Selina was smart enough to recognize that as a stupid question. So she gave it all the weight it deserved and simply shrugged before replying, “You ain’t got no home if you ain’t got no house.”

           It’s a phrase that even now, at age 32, Selina Kyle stands by.

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           When Selina was about 20, her mother sent her a letter. In it were far too many paragraphs where she apologized profusely for any of her words to feel even the slightest bit sincere. She would have happily burned the letter without a second thought if not for the picture included. In the partially ripped, incredibly stained photo stood a young Maria, eyes with bags beneath them, standing in front of a dilapidated brownstone with a tiny infant in her arms. The letter explained that the one-bedroom apartment had been home to Maria, Selina, and the unnamed photographer for the first year or so of Selina’s life. The address, Maria wrote, was 416 Lily Dr. and she hoped that maybe knowing where Selina had come would somehow help her know where she was going. The idea was, of course, completely stupid, because that building might have been where she learned to walk and say her first word and smiled for the first time, but the only record of those things were Maria’s memories and Selina was past the point of harboring any dreams that her mother would one day come back to share those distant memories with her daughter.

           After all, you don’t have a home if all that’s left is a pitiful photo and an address for a house.

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           St. Maria’s orphanage ended up being “home” for Selina until she was about 10 and had realized that sleeping underneath the bridge with a ratty blanket was better than sharing a twin bed with two other girls and having to dress up once a week to see if someone wanted to try and adopt her. (The nuns always described her as a free spirit, but everyone seemed to know that the term simply meant that Selina would never sit still long enough to make herself at home and would instead leave with a backpack full of your food and whatever she could snag from your wallet.) All in all, the orphanage wasn’t the worst place ever and she got off relatively easily in comparison to some of the other abandoned children she knew, but it also could never be mistaken for a home. Everything about the place, from the mismatched floor tiles to the peeling wallpaper that couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to stay on the walls or accept it’s death, screamed of impermanence. Nothing and no one in the building wanted to stay. The girls wanted to go to families. The nuns wanted to go to mass. The hopes and dreams of everyone within wanted to go to people who could actually have a shot at realizing them.

           To be fair to the nuns and the orphanage and the dying wallpaper, it wasn’t their fault. Everyone knows you can’t make a home out of a place meant for escaping.

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           Selina was 13 when someone once again tried to give her an address to stay at. By 13 she was pretty certain homes and houses were meant for people with bank accounts and three meals a day and that she’d have to be content with squats and crash pads and surprisingly large cardboard boxes along the pier. She wasn’t particularly bitter about this information as much as she was ready for everyone to stop trying to prove her wrong.

           But, sadly for her, Jim Gordon was the type of person who was incredibly determined to convince Selina that she was wrong so he arranged for her to stay with Bruce Wayne while the rookie cop attempted to track down the false leads she had given him. Even now, decades later, Selina can hear the creak of the large doors echoing as the butler opened the front door and welcomed Selina inside for the first time. By age 13 Selina felt quite confident that she had seen the best Gotham had to offer, but this mansion was something else entirely. It was the kind of place that could house every homeless kid she spoke to in a month and have none of them ever run into each other. She could have survived her entire life off of stealing the small, but priceless trinkets within the mansion. No one would even have noticed and she would have maybe been able to afford a nice sleeping bag.

           Selina had wandered into the foyer as the adult men talked in the entryway. It was a strange place, the Wayne Manor, it seemed torn between proving that it belonged to the great and noble Wayne family and desperately attempting to convince you that you were safe and loved and understood by the people who lived within its walls. Everywhere there were signs of wealth, but there were also signs of someone, maybe the mother, working to make the manor a home. There were family photos, not portraits, on various walls, board games, so many records and record players that Selina stopped counting at 16, all of which seemed meant to serve only to encourage visitors to ignore the empty chill of the enormous rooms.

           Selina, with all the wisdom of a 13-year-old who was tired of fake displays of love already, simply rolled her eyes and headed up the stairs to investigate a very nice blue and white vase. Didn’t the manor’s decorator know that a manor isn’t a house and you can’t have a home without a house?

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           By age 17, Selina Kyle knew the Wayne Manor better than anyone else. Alfred would have, and did, argue with her about this particular statement, but she refused to relinquish the title. After all, he had arranged for the security system and he didn’t know if half as well as Selina did. (At the beginning of this years-long argument, Bruce had foolishly suggested that perhaps he was the one who knew the mansion best, which prompted Selina to throw her spaghetti bolognese at him while Alfred pretended to not notice; Bruce had quickly withdrawn his name from the competition.)  Selina certainly didn’t live at the manor, but there was always the same room made up for her and ready should she ever decide to stop by. The room was nice and Bruce had even put a small stuffed cat on the bed sometime when she was 14, but it was not the room she spent the most time in. Instead, the little, informal kitchen and dining room was the spot in the manor that most captured her heart. She knew that room perhaps better than anywhere else in the world. She knew that the fourth wood plank from the door creaked and had memorized exactly how to walk to not make any noise. She knew that the bush of cornelias underneath the window by the sink smelled best during the summer rainstorms and that if you only opened the window a few inches you could enjoy the smell without letting any rain into the room. Looking back, she blessed every one of the moments she spent in that room with the rain gently tapping on the roof and the smell of the flowers filling the kitchen. (One time Bruce had bought her a cornelia flower perfume and the poor boy was baffled to discover that she refused to wear it when it wasn’t raining out.)

           It was exactly one of these rainy afternoons when Selina realized that perhaps she was too close to the manor and its inhabitants. She had snuck in earlier than morning and helped herself to a sandwich before settling in in the kitchen. She knew Bruce and Alfred would be out and had been excited to see their faces when they returned to find an extra, unexpected person in the house. However, when they returned with bags full of groceries, they greeted Selina like she had been there the whole time and simply declined the offer to go grocery shopping, not as if she had broken in. Bruce had assured her that they had remembered to get her the pomegranate juice and granola bars she liked since she had run out last week and Alfred had reminded her that the sweater she had left there a couple days ago was at the dry cleaners and should be ready to be picked up later this afternoon if she would be so kind as to grab it the next time she went into the city. And then, with a sense of horror washing over her, Selina realized she knew exactly where to put all the items in the grocery bag she’d been handed to unload. So, she raced to put the asparagus in its drawer, the lightbulbs in the mudroom off to the left of the dining room, and the cinnamon in its proper place in the spice rack, before dashing off to grab the imaginary book that she had supposedly left in her room.

           Selina’s heart seemed about to beat out of her chest as she looked around the room (her room?) at the drawers that had her clothes and her bathroom full of the combs and products that kept her hair manageable and the little gifts and trinkets spread over the shelves from birthdays and Christmases and apologies for running off to the stupid chalet in Switzerland. It just couldn’t do. She was a street kid, a cat, not someone who could be tied down to a room with a bed and curtains and her favorite foods and her absolute favorite people. So that night she packed everything she could into her little backpack and ran away.

           Because who was she kidding? A girl like her could never have a home in a house like that.

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           Bruce crashes with her for a week during the year the bridges were blown. She can’t remember why, but vaguely thinks it might have been because of her incident with the scalpel. He probably passed it off as giving Alfred space or helping make sure nothing went wrong with the root that was healing her spine, but she remembers a distinct sense that Bruce was waiting for her to collapse into a ball and die at any moment. And that feeling got really old, really fast. In a city like Gotham, especially during that year, oftentimes the safest places were rooftops, so Selina had snuck out of her room late one September evening and climbed onto the roof. She had sat there for no longer than 20 minutes when Bruce emerged from her window. The autumn night was mostly warm, but the wind would pick up every so often and send a chill through her body. He hadn’t been out on the roof for more than a minute or so before he slipped his jacket around her shoulders. The gesture caught her off-guard for a moment, but the past few months of her life had been nightmarish and every night felt so unreal that she chose to ignore the voices in her head screaming for her to move away because sharing your heart with someone means letting them choose if they protect it of if they break it and settled in beside the young man next to her.

           Selina was young and still didn’t have a house, but maybe houses were overrated and the right person was all that was required to make a home.

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           Bruce leaves a few months later and it feels like he’s finally revealed that this was simply a years-long con and she had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. The manor was gone and Alfred didn’t know how to react around her and Jim was busy and Barbara had a baby and everyone seemed to think that she must know how to get ahold of Bruce because no one who really loved someone would leave without a good-bye.

           But he did.

He left without a good-bye and instead let a note that spoke of home and how she would always matter to him and have a place in his soul break her heart for him. But, she told herself, it was fine. After all, Wayne Manor was blown to smithereens and you ain’t got no home if you ain’t got no house so it didn’t matter that the person who had made her feel at home had left without saying good-bye..

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           The manor was rebuilt by the time Selina was 20. She and Alfred had worked hard to make it as close to the original as possible. The only purposeful difference were the carpets in the study because neither could muster the strength to buy ones identical to the carpet that Selina had nearly bled out on. She spent a grand total for four days in the new manor before running away.

           Alfred may have been determined that this new house could be a home, but Selina knew it just wasn’t going to be the case.

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           The first apartment she rents legally is with her paycheck from the Martha Wayne Foundation. She had successfully bid for a small position helping to plan events for the Foundation and while she suspects that the job was given to her solely because no one wanted to figure out if denying Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend a job in his mother’s charity would be what it took to bring him back from wherever he was off hiding, she didn’t push it. Regardless of the reason for her getting the job, Selina loved the work and loved the status and the apartment that she got as a result of her work. It had been maybe a year after Gotham was reunited with the mainland that Selina had realized that the only way she was going to be able to get the kind of scores and respect she so desperately craved from Gotham’s underworld was if she could make a space for herself in the city’s ruling class. After all, Barbara had been a socialite and Lee had married a Falcone and been respected by the entire GCPD. If Selina was going to get a fraction of the power either of them had had, she was going to need to insert herself into the kind of life Bruce had led. So that’s what she did.

           The apartment felt like proof that she could fake her way into a richer world. Gone were the days of squats and sleeping in a different bed every night. Now her apartment was painted a deep purple and had fresh flowers at all times (cornelias because the smell still made her happier than anything else) and a closet full of dresses for galas and cocktail parties and dates with men who got more money from their trust funds in a month than she had ever touched in her life. Was it home? If you had asked Selina that, she would have scoffed at you and rolled her eyes.

           After all, you can have the nicest house in the world, but if you’re faking belonging there, it will never be a home.

******************************************************************************

           The party was barely even starting when Bruce Wayne left and asked the valet to bring him his car. He’d only been back in Gotham for six months and parties felt even more tedious and ridiculous now than they had before he’d left for a decade. Besides, Selina had been there and he still wasn’t certain where they stood (if you had asked him where Batman and Catwoman stood in relation to each other he probably would have been able to give a more concrete answer, but even that was a big ‘probably’). So of course he should have been expecting her to be in the passenger seat of his car when he slid into it. And of course he should have been expecting to hear her soft voice casually whisper that she rents a place on Rose Avenue if he wanted to check it out.

           She doesn’t give him a chance to decline her offer and he barely manages to mind since he couldn’t have turned her down anyway. Later, after he’s explored the apartment and they’ve explored each other and refused to even consider exploring what their relationship might be like in this new reality, he asks her if she likes her new home.

           Selina scoffs in that way that he knows means he shouldn’t have bothered asking such a stupid question in the first place. “Bruce one day you’ll have to learn, just ‘cause someone has a house doesn’t mean they’ve got a home.”

******************************************************************************

           After the wedding reception, Bruce grabs his bride’s hand and walks her back to the mansion’s entrance, the one that they’ve been through more times than either could count. Selina couldn’t shake the feeling that walking through those grand front doors should feel different now that she was the Mrs. Wayne who would be working so hard to make the mansion feel like a home, but she didn’t. She had run through those doors as a tiny 13-year-old fleeing for her life. She had climbed through every window in the estate as a 15-year-old unsure of the new relationship unfolding before her. She had wept where the kitchen had once been as a 19-year-old who didn’t know if she was crying for the building that was gone or for the man who had left her to try and rebuild her life on her own. She had helped pick the carpets and wallpaper and artwork that still remained in the manor as a tentative 22-year-old. She had cursed and railed against the world in the east gardens as a 25-year-old learning that the Martha Wayne Foundation would lose 20% of its funding because Wayne Corporation felt it didn’t generate enough good press to deserve the money it had previously received. She had brainstormed with Bruce on the stairs of the foyer as they tried to figure out how to bring peace to their city after another attack from Jerimaiah Valeska as a 29-year-old trying to bond with her childhood friend again. She had snuck barefoot through the kitchen last night when she gave in and accepted she was too excited for her wedding to get any sleep. She had lived so much life in this giant manor that she had once thought could never hold love and peace and happiness in its vast rooms. And the new last name she had claimed didn’t make her any different from the teen who had pushed all the furniture out of the study to dance the the late Waynes’ records with their son. Her whole life, the religion that kept her going on the darkest days, all of it was built into this place.

           Bruce insists on carrying her over the threshold because the man is still as much of a sentimentalist as he was when he was a kid who brought her a snowglobe from Switzerland. As he sets her down, he looks her in the eyes and smiles, “Welcome home, Mrs. Wayne.”

           Selina, despite her efforts, can’t keep back a laugh at his endearing sincerity. “You know, Mr. Wayne, I used to say that you can’t have a home without a house, but, after thinking about it again, I think a mansion can indeed count as a house.”

           “So, you’ll call this home?”

           “I think that may just be something I can agree to.”