#still need to fix 1 gift yet

[myriahkamm]

Hot off the presses: a pair of knitted wrist warmers for my sister-in-law!

(Ignore my ugly hands that were never meant to model anything lol.)

Another worsted-weight, variegated yarn. Used the same yarn as I did for her hat that I made earlier:

Simple garter stitch pattern. For each wrist warmer, I just made a rectangle, folded it, then knit the cast-on and bind-off edges together.

I might still make a cat toy for my sister and brother-in-law's cats since there's a few more days until Christmas. We'll see!

But otherwise, I'm done knitting Christmas gifts! Woo!

[jijournal]

MASTERLIST!

ˋ°•*⁀➷ GOLDEN TRIO ERA

╰┈➤ HARRY POTTER

♡ I See You

As a Muggle-born Hufflepuff, you were taught to always be kind-even when it hurt. Years of people-pleasing left you exhausted and invisible, until Harry Potter reminded you that your worth isn't tied to how much you give. Now, you're learning that kindness includes being kind to yourself too.

♡ Worse Than Veritaserum!

Something went wrong while you and Harry were brewing Veritaserum—the potion you created now causes you to read each other’s minds.

╰┈➤ DRACO MALFOY

ˋ°•*⁀➷ SERIES

♡ LOVE ME LOUD

♡ Part 1: Love Me Loud: To the world, Draco Malfoy was untouchable—arrogant, cruel, and proud of it. But when you took the only empty seat beside him, you became the exception. Well maybe not that much of an exception... He cared more about what his family wants, and not what he wanted. Which was you. ♡ Part 2: Love Me Again: After walking away from the boy who couldn't choose you, fate brings you face to face with Draco Malfoy once more. The feelings are still there, truths remain unspoken, and the question lingers—was it ever really over?

♡ CRAZY RICH... WIZARDS?

♡ Part 1: Crazy Rich... Wizards? You find out your long time boyfriend is a... wizard? Was it a prank? a joke? some kind of unamusing humor? No. It was real. And now, he wants to introduce you to his parents. ♡ Part 2: Wands, Weddings, And Wicked Traditions: When your boyfriend drags you into a world of old money, ancient grudges, and fancy robes, you quickly learn that fitting in isn’t about magic—it’s about surviving family dinners. ♡ Part 3: Wealthy, Witty, Witches: After barely surviving a disastrous dinner with your wizard boyfriend’s parents, you’re forced to endure yet another nightmare—this time, with his ex. ♡ Part 4: To be Continued...

ˋ°•*⁀➷ STAND-ALONE

♡ Right Here All Along

Camellia Rose and Draco Malfoy, childhood friends bound by loyalty, love, and unspoken words. As Camellia is torn between loyalty and betrayal as she discovers that Harry Potter, the one person she trust most, has been using her all along.

♡ You'll Be In My Heart

Whenever Draco needs you, you're always there. That's an older sister's duty after all. When he was at his lowest throughout the years, you teach him an important lesson in life.

♡ Just Pretend

To get his parents off his back, Draco begs you to pretend to be his date for a gala. He swears it's just for a night, but by the end, he's wishing it wasn't.

♡ "You're Going Down, Malfoy."

After a playful late-night duel with Draco, you win a bet and make him hold your hand in public for five seconds. Maybe a little longer than five.

♡ "Jealous Much?"

You receive a letter with a gift every week, and your brother Harry and his friends won’t stop teasing you about a “mystery admirer.” Little does he know, the sender is the last person he’d ever expect.

♡ Complain Here, Complain There

You had a talent for endless complaining—fortunately, someone always seemed to have the full-time job of fixing whatever you whined about.

♡ "Told You I Was"

A quiet winter night of sulking turns unexpectedly sweet when Draco proves he’s been listening all along, surprising you with thoughtful gifts that melt your heart.

♡ Charm Me Up

You’ve made it a habit to give small charms to those who need a reminder that they’re not alone. But there’s one person you keep finding reasons to give them to—one boy who always seems to need a charm.

♡ Little Miss Collector

In which the strangest girl in Slytherin collects lost things in a heart-shaped box, and Draco Malfoy realizes she might be the only person who’s never truly lost herself.

♡ He laughs at her eyes, at her smile, at the glasses on her face:

Draco Malfoy hates you, or so you thought.

♡ Undressed

And I don't wanna learn another scent I don't want the children of another man To have the eyes of the girl I won't forget.

♡ Never Go Near A Malfoy

You were taught to never go near a Malfoy, ever. But how could you? He's very much unavoidable.

♡ The Greenhouse Effect

When you're paired with Draco Malfoy for Herbology, you expected eye-rolls and dead plants. But, you don’t expect that the most sudden pairings bloom brightest.

♡ Drop The Beat, Steal The Heart

Hogwarts’ most popular DJ gets summoned to throw the party of the year—but when the birthday boy starts watching you like your a spell he can’t resist, things quickly turn electrifying. Get ready for beats, banter, and tension that drops harder than any remix.

♡ The Eleven Word Question

Draco Malfoy would literally die for you—unfortunately, asking you to the Yule Ball might just kill him first. When he finally gathers the courage to do it, you politely decline… thanks to a spectacular misunderstanding. Now, with his pride bruised and his heart set, Draco is determined to win you over—properly, this time.

♡ Fight Or Flight (Coming Soon)

A fierce academic rivalry brews between you and Draco Malfoy—your greatest competition for second place behind your bestfriend Hermione. But after years of witty insults and tension, one unexpected moment changes everything, revealing a spark even Harry and Ron never saw coming.

♡ You, Before The War (Coming Soon)

Being forced into becoming a Death Eater because of your family's name was unbearable—but betraying the love of your life to spy for the other side, all for the greater good, was far worse.

╰┈➤ RON WEASLEY

♡ A Weasley Gift

Ron surprises you with something very special in the Weasley household.

╰┈➤ GEORGE WEASLEY

♡ My Very Own Cupid:

Valerie Valentine, known as “Hogwarts’ Cupid” for her matchmaking prowess, finds herself heartbroken upon finding out George Weasley, her crush since 4th year, likes Angelina Johnson. This leads her to abandon her romantic endeavors, only to later discover something unexpected.

♡ Confession Candy

When Fred convinces George to test their latest prototype, George has no idea the candy will shout out a confession he’s secretly been holding in for years. To his horror—and your shock—it blurts out that he's in love with you.

♡ Hired Matchmaker (Coming Soon)

As a professional "matchmaker"—as people say—Molly hires you to find George the love of his life after Fred's passing. You both don't realize that the "love of his life" was standing in front of him, helping, all along.

╰┈➤ FRED WEASLEY

♡ The Thief

No one knows that you own a cute baby Niffler. It may be only a few months old, but his love for mischief keeps developing fast... really, fast.

♡ Prank Wars

You and Fred Weasley had been bickering since first year, locked in a never-ending war of (mostly) harmless pranks. Why is it that he's so obsessed with tormenting you? you’ll never know. The petty rivalry drags on for years, until your sixth year, when one of Fred’s pranks goes completely wrong… or maybe completely right.

╰┈➤ CEDRIC DIGGORY

♡ A Promise Kept

Before the Triwizard Tournament, Cedric makes you promise that, no matter what happens, you won’t cry over him. After his death, you struggle to keep that promise—until you find the letter he left behind.

♡ Another Chance

If you are given another chance to go back and prevent him from entering that stupid tournament, would you do it?

╰┈➤ OLIVER WOOD

♡ The Quidditch Bet

You and Oliver are captains of rival Quidditch teams, and the competition is fierce. But when a bet forces the loser to take the winner on a date, you realize that maybe you don’t hate him as much as you thought.

♡ Thicker Than A Broomstick

Quidditch is brutal, but nothing compares to Oliver Wood’s hopeless attempts at flirting—too bad the only person who doesn’t realize he’s asking you to the Yule Ball is you.

♡ Lovely To Be Rained On With You

Angry love confession in the rain with Oliver Wood.

ˋ°•*⁀➷ MARAUDERS ERA

╰┈➤ JAMES POTTER

♡ Back To Friends

Best friends weren’t supposed to fall. But after one night and a thousand unspoken words, James Potter chose Lily Evans—and you were left remembering what it felt like to be loved, even if only for a moment.

╰┈➤ REMUS LUPIN

nothing to see here yet...

╰┈➤ SIRIUS BLACK

♡ "Bet You'll Fall For Me" (Coming Soon)

One lazy afternoon in the Gryffindor common room, Sirius makes a bold bet—he claims he can make you blush in less than five minutes. You're certain he (kinda) doesn't stand a chance.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

enjoy reading!

[miley1442111]

fix it together- a.hotchner

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :) thank you guys for all the love on the first part of this!!!!

please don't read if you have emetophobia!!!!

summary: aaron said some horrible things. He's trying to fix it, right?

pairing: husband! aaron hotchner x wife! reader

warnings: mad angst, aaron is so mean, reader believes she is a bad mother, heartbreak, feelings of disappointment, reader is pregnant, talks of pregnancy, talks of vomiting and morning sickness, happy ending :)

part 1- fix it.

Aaron

The last few weeks had been… tense. Going back to work was fine and we still acted like a couple, don’t get me wrong. Yet, everything felt disgustingly different. The gifts hadn’t been working. The dates hadn’t been working. Every second of my days were spent thinking over what I’d said on that horrible night. Did I ask for an annulment? What was I thinking? I love you more than anything, I want you forever. Since the first date I’d known you were my girl, my forever girl. Every night I’ve been trying to make it clear to you that I want you. That I think you’re a good mother. Even the nights you'd stayed at Penelope's.

After Jack's birthday, you'd gone to Penelope's for 3 nights, I only saw you during the day at work, and even then you didn't look at me, let alone speak to me. You came home because you missed Jack.

Since then, you’ve been distant, focusing on work, or Jack more often than not. So I decided something. 

I made all the distractions go away. Jack went off to his cousin's house, and I pulled us out of work for a full week, much to Strauss’s annoyance. Only thing is that I hadn’t told you. 

Well, this better work. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Honey?” I cleared my throat, still groggy from waking up a few minutes prior. You weren’t in bed, you’d recently stopped our regular 5 minutes of hazy cuddling as we both wake up. My third favourite part of the day. My second favourite being when you come to me at 2:07pm everyday at work and give me a kiss, my first favourite being the kiss and hug you give me at the end of the day, just after tucking Jack in. All three had stopped in recent weeks.  

“Yeah?” You called from the bathroom, doing your regular morning routine. 

“I called us out of work,” I yawned and heard your quickened footsteps, then you appeared in front of me. You looked so beautiful, as always. A random and oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts that left little to the imagination. I started to sweat just thinking about it. 

“What? Why?! We have people who need our help, we have cases-” You started rambling as I got up and cupped your face, kissing you. 

“Because I need you. I need you to be you again,” I whispered against your lips, hoping this would work. “So we’re going to have a nice few days, yeah? Today we have your appointment and we’ll have another talk. Then we can just relax for the rest of the week.”

“The week?” you stressed and I rolled my eyes, kissing you again. Your lips were so perfect. You’d brushed your teeth, not that I mind your morning breath. Not that I mind anything about you. 

“Please,” I was begging and I wasn’t even ashamed. “Please honey,” I wrapped my hands around your waist, trying to persuade you. 

“Aaron-”

“Don’t call me Aaron,” You’d stopped calling me the usual ‘baby’ or ‘darling’, or my favourite ‘love’. “Please. I want to be normal again. I don’t want this distance, I adore you more than anything.”

I could tell you felt conflicted. I hurt you. I know I did. 

“Aaron,” another stab to my heart. “Fine, we’ll take this week off, and we can… talk.”

“Thank you my love,” I smile, pressing kisses along your exposed collarbone. You chuckled. I’d missed your laughter. I’d missed you.

“Ok baby, come on, I need to shower,” you giggled against me and I could feel my heart mending. Baby. I couldn’t stop the grin on my lips. I let go of you, but not before kissing you again. My perfect wife. 

“Can I join?” I smirked, and you scoffed. 

“Don’t push your luck Hotchner,” You chuckled. This was it. This is what it used to be. Flirty, loving, and fun. Before I ruined everything. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You

Forgiving Aaron was the easy part. Worrying if every parenting decision was the right one, was pure agony. 

Is it wrong to say that like that? Should I have done this a different way? Was that right?

And your brain’s personal favourite: 

What would Haley have done? 

You were beating yourself up about it all for the past few weeks. You felt you had ruined Jack’s birthday with your own insecurities, since he’d asked if you were alright the day after.

Telling Jack you were pregnant was a highlight from the past few weeks. He was ecstatic to find out he’d be getting a little sibling. He already wanted to meet them and he understood that there would be times where either of you wouldn’t be able to play with him when his sibling arrived. 

Aaron had been grovelling to the highest degree. Flowers once a week, date nights, house chores, taking paperwork from you so you don’t need to do it, getting any and all pregnancy cravings, and helping you deal with all your morning sickness and migraines. 

It was maddening. You were going to go insane if you weren’t careful. 

Yet, you felt like every second of every day was spent thinking about your parenting choices and just wondering if having another baby was even a good idea. Would your new child even like you? Would this ruin your relationship with Jack? What was going to happen when they grow up? Did Aaron really think your parenting is terrible? 

Ok, so maybe you haven’t forgiven him just yet. Or at all. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You lay back in bed, a book in hand as Aaron pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. You stared at the words on the page, trying to make sense of them when your brain was so clouded. Your levels of anxiety had risen greatly, which you both knew was not good for your baby. Aaron had been trying to lift some of the stress off your shoulders with his constant doting, but you knew that the stress was Aaron. From the moment you woke up to the minute you fell asleep, you felt like you were putting up a show. Being the perfect wife, perfect (probably shitty, you thought anyway) mother, perfect agent. It was exhausting. You wanted to go back to before, back to when you didn’t have to pretend everything was alright. 

You pushed him off you and lay on your side, a regular occurrence. Aaron felt dejected. He’d hurt you so badly, and he didn’t know what to do to fix it. 

“Baby?” he spoke into the room. 

“Yes Aaron?” You answered. 

“Do you still love me?” He asked in a small voice. He felt raw and full of emotion. Honestly, he was terrified of the answer. 

“Do I still love you?” You scoffed. “I think I should be the one asking that. You were the one mentioning getting an annulment.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that… I was just-” He tried but you shot out of bed, staring at him with an anger in your eyes he could only describe as animalistic. 

“ 'You just' what Aaron? What?!” You squealed, all the emotions that you’d let build up, coming out at once. “I’ve been trying to be a good wife, to be a good mother for the past 4 fucking years Aaron. I have been that for you, I have been that for you and Jack, and I’m so happy to do it because I love the both of you more than anything! And all I ask in return is that you love and respect me! That is what you promised me on your wedding day! You didn’t fucking do that. You threw our marriage under the bus and compared me to your ex wife, the second you got slightly stressed. I’m sure Haley did a much better job than me Aaron, I’m sure she did! But I’m here Aaron. I love you. I love Jack. I have dedicated my life to the two of you, to our family! And now I feel like I’ve made a mistake in doing that, because the second you get overwhelmed, I’m in the first person that gets thrown under the bus?! To get reduced to nothing by you?! That’s not fucking fair Aaron, It’s not fair! And the worst part is that I fucking forgave you weeks ago, but I can’t forgive myself! I feel like such a shit mother every single day! I feel like I’m failing everyday, and that our baby will fucking hate me because it’ll somehow know that I’m the second choice! That it’ll know you’d rather be with someone who’s dead! So don’t come to me asking stupid fucking questions like that when you know the fucking answer Aaron. You don’t need to humiliate me more than you already have.”

You walked out of your shared bathroom, down the stairs into the living room, and sobbed your eyes out. 

Aaron sat up in the bed, thankful that Jack wasn’t home today, but devastated by your words, and his actions. Why had he even brought up an annulment? 

He couldn’t even begin to dissect the feelings he had when the bile in his throat suddenly came on and he had to run to the bathroom, and spill it into the toilet. Your words hit him like a knife, throwing his own words back in his face in the most disgusting way to do it, directed at you. You were an amazing mother, an amazing wife. And yet, you thought you were worthless. He had made you feel worthless. He felt terrible. He didn’t want Haley. Yes, he’d loved her for a long time, yes their divorce was heartbreaking. But he loved you now, and he didn’t ever want to take that for granted. He’d gotten two people who loved him unconditionally, two people who loved him enough to have a child with him, two people that would put themselves in harm’s way for him. 

And he fucked it up. Twice. 

He followed you downstairs, standing in the doorway as you sobbed into the couch cushions, then walked over and put a hand on your back. You didn’t push him off, that must be a good sign, right? He moved you to sit on his lap, your head in his shoulder as he calmed you down.

“I’m so sorry Y/n. I was awful to you. I don’t want an annulment, I never want an annulment. I know it sounds bad but I was just so used to Haley hanging a divorce over my head for so long, it just came out. You are who I want, who I would choose, every single time. You are a good mother. You’re going to be a good mother. I’m so sorry I ever made you doubt yourself. That I ever made you doubt me. I never want to hurt you like this again. This is the worst thing I’ve ever done, I’m so sorry,” he whispered against your skin. “I’m so sorry.”

You let out a half chuckle- half sob and pulled away. “Aaron, I need you to swear to me that you will never fucking bring up us breaking up again, unless you actually mean it.”

“I swear.”

“And I need you to promise me that you’ll work on stopping all the reactive bullshit we’ve been doing,” You sighed.

“I promise.” 

“Then, I think we’ll be ok,” You smiled softly and kissed his cheek, settling your head back against his neck. 

“So we’re ok again?” He asked hopefully. 

“Not yet, no,” You stated and his hope vanished. 

“Honey-”

“We will be, soon.” 

He smiled again. You were his, always. Just as he was yours, always. Anything, you could get through. 

Together.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

people that asked to be tagged: @michasia24 @pear-1206 @randomrosie01 @tonystankhere

[writingslob]

SPIN-OFF: Lin Ling's guide to becoming an emotional support civilian [BIRTHDAY EDITION!]

[TO BE HERO X] x [LIN LING]

[The actual series can be found here!]

Author's note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LIN LING! This is written as a crack spin-off of my main series, so this is not canonical! I hope you enjoy!

Once again, thank you @kiraisrika for the idea (And for reminding me today is Lin Ling's birthday)

.

.

.

Nice was stressed.

E-Soul was running around at top speed, setting decorations, but they were all crooked, so Nice had to follow behind him and fix them. Even though that wasn’t his job. No, his job was to make sure everything was on schedule, but nothing was! It has been 50 minutes since X and Ahu were sent to go pick up the cake (From some bakery he doesn’t know, mind you). The only reason he allowed it was because X promised him they sold the best cake, and Lin Ling deserved the best. But! It has been 50 minutes! Where the hell are they!? (X can fucking teleport!) 

Behind him, as he straightened another streamer, he could hear Lucky Cyan arguing over the phone, telling the backup singers and dancers if they didn’t get over to the right location in time, she would personally make sure they were blacklisted from the industries forever. Loli, on the other hand, hasn’t even arrived yet, even though she was supposed to help Lucky Cyan and her team set up the stage for Lin Ling’s birthday concert. (There’s a text in the ‘Number 1. Lin Ling fan group’ which states that she would be late as she’s still putting the finishing touches on his gift. No one has seen it.) 

Dragon Boy and Ghostblade were busting in the kitchen, and he could hear the arguments and swearing from where he was standing. 

“You shouldn’t have put in that much butter. It’s not healthy for Lin Ling.”  Dragon boy snaps back, “IT’S HIS BIRTHDAY, OLD MAN!”  “So? I don’t want him to be as unhealthy as you.” Ghostblade calmly replies, continuing his chopping. “HUH!? WANT TO SAY THAT TO MY FACE, GRANDPA!?” 

Originally, they planned to hire the best catering company. But, when Lin Ling shyly told them that he preferred food made by his friends. Well, how could they deny him that? (The catering company was not happy with the late cancellation, but Queen and Ghostblade took care of it.) Speaking of Queen, he looked over to what she was doing, only to drop the banner he was fixing because—

“WHY IS THERE A ZOO IN HERE!?” The Johnnies looked over to him and glared at him witherly. The animals behind him give him the same look. “Because Lin Ling said he always wanted to visit a petting zoo, so this is our gift.” A faux look of surprise overcame his face as he looked at Nice. “Oh! Wait, no, you weren’t there when Lin Ling said that on our date. What. A. Shame.” Nice felt a blood vessel burst at Johnnie’s smug look. Before he could kill him, Queen intervened. 

“That’s Enough from the both of you. Lin Ling is set to come back any minute now. Get in your places.” She orders through gritted teeth. It was loud enough that everyone heard, and immediately complaints were raised.

“I HAVEN’T FINISHED FIXING EVERYTHING!”

“HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO HIDE ALL THESE ANIMALS!?”

“...” 

“THE STAFF WON’T COME IN TIME!”

“WE STILL HAVE 5 DISHES THAT NEED MORE TIME TO COOK.”

“SHUT UP!” Queen’s power takes effect, and Nice can feel his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth and his throat close up. He settles on glaring at her instead. She meets his and everyone’s glare head-on. “I don’t care about whether you finished your part or not. Lin Ling is coming. GET. IN. YOUR. PLACES.” His finger itches as his brain reminds him how many imperfections there still are (Lin Ling only deserves the best, after all.) But he backs down and flies over to his hiding spot beside the elevator. Nice can see everyone scatter, and the lights are turned off; the apartment is now pitch black. (Loli had designed automated curtains after Lin Ling muttered how he couldn’t sleep well because of the city lights.)

Waiting in the dark, Nice can only hear the sound of faint shuffling and soft breaths as they wait. Soon, the sound of the elevator rising and the glowing number up top illuminating what floor the elevator’s on—what floor Lin Ling is on. 

15

14

13

12

11

Nice’s hand spasms. Just one more floor. Then Lin Ling can be in his arms once more. (He already misses him.)

10

The elevator door opens. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LIN LING!!!”

X blinks back at them, a cake box sitting innocently in his hands. Ahu at his feet. They stood in silence before Dragon Boy groaned. “OH COME ON! WHERE THE FUCK IS LIN LING!?” That shout broke everyone out of the silence, and soon, everyone else was groaning and bemoaning the fact that Lin Ling wasn’t here. X blinked again. “Don’t worry, he’s coming soon. Very soon.” Taking a look around the place, the smile on his face turned into a slight grimace. “This looks…nice.” X turns to Nice. “No pun intended.” Nice, waves him off. “Whatever, just hand me the cake.”

X looks confused. “Why?”

“I’m going to greet Lin Ling with it.” Obviously. 

Before X can respond, Lucky Cyan jogs over. “Now hold on, why do you get to be the one to greet Lin Ling first with the cake?” Nice scoffs, “Because I’m his favorite, obviously. Now give it.” Before Nice can take it out of X's hands, X raises it above his head. His smile was now one of amusement. “His favorite? And here I thought I was number 1.” 

Nice opens his mouth to retort (X? The favorite? Please, Nice has been here the longest.) When the cake box is ripped out of X’s hand, Dragon Boy crackles manically. “Ha! And why would he want to hang out with you old fucks?” His grins widens “You know what? I’ll take this cake and Lin Ling, and we’ll celebrate his birthday. Privately.” Everyone saw red, and what transpired was a battle to the death. Punches were thrown along with all manner of weapons as they ducked out who could hold the cake.

They were so engrossed in their battle, in fact, that they didn’t hear the opening of elevator doors or the sound of footsteps approaching the battlefield before—

“What are you guys doing?”

Instantly, a feeling of calm washes over him as Lin Ling draws closer. However, the calm is instantly replaced with panic as he sees E-Soul kick the cake. It soars above them all as it flies directly over to Lin Ling. Nice tries to push him out of the way, and X has his hands ready to snap, but it’s too late as—

SPLAT

They all watch in horror as chunks of cake and frosting drip down Lin Ling’s head, splattering onto the ground below. The room is deafeningly quiet, and even with Lin Ling in arm’s reach, Nice can feel his heartbeat reach a crescendo. (Because Lin Ling is going to hate him because of this. This was supposed to be the perfect day—everything was supposed to be perfect. How did he fuck up this badly? Oh god, Lin Ling hasn’t moved. He’s going to hate it. What can he do? What can he do? WHAT CAN HE DO? Clean up. He can clean Lin Ling up and then beg for his forgiveness. Right, he can do that. Oh god, why won’t Lin Ling say anything—?)

Lin Ling laughs. 

Everyone freezes.

Ling Ling clutched his stomach and stumbled as he laughed. The laugh was loud, bright, and ugly, and Nice fell in love once more. It lasted for a few minutes, and everyone stared transfixed as Lin Ling's laugh turned into a giggle. His eyes were bright with joy. “Is…is this supposed to be my birthday party?” Someone nodded behind Nice. Lin Ling’s smile grew even bigger. “Then this is the best birthday party I have ever had!” His eyes soften. “Thank you.”

The party went smoothly after that. 

(“Hi guys! Sorry, Lin Ling, for being late—huh!? You already started without me!?”)

[gffa]

Hey, are you feeling salty about STAR WARS for no reason whatsoever, just totally happened randomly, and want some fic that reflects the Jedi Order of the movies and TCW? Ones that are novel-length time travel fix-its to really make yourself feel better? Then I have some ones that I've been reading and really enjoying! Because I think maybe we could all use a bunch of fic to get lost in over the weekend, just 'cause. STAR WARS TIME TRAVEL FIC RECS: ✦ there is no death ashkav, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cal & quinlan & ocs & cast, time travel, 134.9k wip Darth Vader is a cataclysmic event, and Cal, delirious with pain, scrambles to catch the hilt of his saber as he begins to drag it out their corpses – and that’s what he and Cere are, corpses, with only a last few seconds of misfiring neurons left in them, no matter how much BD-1 trills and punches stim after stim into his arm – they are tipping past that point of no return now, and Cal needs to do something right now before it’s too late for – for what?

✦ Take it from the top and try again by mauvera, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & padme & mace & dooku & cast, time travel, 142.3k wip     Five years into his self imposed exile on Tattooine, Obi-Wan Kenobi is gifted the chance to go back and bring hope back to the galaxy. With hindsight on his side, he fully intends to save his master, save his padawan, make some new and old friends again, prepare the Jedi for a war they’ll hopefully never see and begin to pull apart all the many tangled threads of the Sith Lord’s plans. Should be relatively easy. Right?

✦ Let Go by Micillyn, qui-gon & obi-wan & anakin & padme & cast, time travel, 101.5k Qui-Gon did not expect to die on Naboo. Nor did he realise that by insisting for Anakin to be trained as a Jedi, the boy would one day fall and become Darth Vader. Foresight, it seems, did not confer the gift of infallibility, yet if it took all those tragedies to destroy the Sith and restore balance to the Force and hope to the galaxy, then perhaps it wasn't so bad after all. Or, the story as happened in the movies is the fix-it, and this is the story of the disaster that happened before the time-travel happened.

✦ a distant fire is burning by e_va, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cal & cast, time travel, 47.4k wip Cal Kestis can move backwards in time (kinda-sorta-not really), and his confrontation with Darth Vader in the Fortress Inquisitorius plays out a lot differently. Fixing the timeline while stuck in his 10-year-old body will be quite the task, but Cal is up to it. He has to be.

✦ Reprise by Elfpen, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & mace & cast, time travel, 558.9k wip Ben Kenobi dies aboard the Death Star in the year 0 BBY. He wakes up shortly thereafter in the Jedi temple in the year 41 BBY. Haunted by memories and regret, Ben must forge a new path for himself in the Jedi Order of his youth while navigating the murky waters of time travel. Crafting a better future from bitter experience is hard, but learning to heal is even harder. Major AU.

✦ Unexpected Awakening (The Rewrite) by Rhiw, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & feemor & bruck & jango & cast, time travel, 135.1k wip     The life of General Kenobi is cut short at the hands of his Padawan, but the sight that greets his eyes upon awakening is not that of blinding light of the Force, but the Jedi Temple he knew when he was still a youth. As he struggles to understand the path laid out before him, Obi-Wan unwittingly captures the attention of a singularly unusual Temple Guard, and that of a reluctant Qui-Gon Jinn.

✦ Averting Galactic Destruction by kj_feybarn, obi-wan & anakin & quinlan & rex & cody & fives & dogma & wolffe & plo & shaak & dooku & sidious, time travel, 44.3k     AKA The Time the Force Sent Obi-Wan Back in Time and Quinlan Vos kept him from Going Kamikaze because let’s be Honest, Being Forced to Come Back in Time Would Suck.

[legobiwan]

This is such a telling page for Ford. Not only does he detail his social missteps and admit to being lonely in Gravity Falls, despite the scientific wonder of the place, but he also uses what I call "Fordese 2," a scrambled version of the "Fordese 1" code we were first introduced to in Journal 3 to label himself a "six-fingered freak" and to state that "Stanley would have made her laugh." (Her, being the waitress Ford tries out his nerdy science joke on, which goes down like a lead balloon despite the fact that it is legitimately funny, given the right audience).

It's like Bill says. "Ego of a king. The insecurity of a circus freak. And totally isolated..." (Funny enough, Bill could probably turn those exact words on himself, as well.)

Ford so wanted Gravity Falls to be the place where he'd finally fit in, the puzzle to his misshapen puzzle piece.

And as we see in the missing Journal pages from BoB, that was not to be the case. And worst of all? Ford blames it on his hands at first, but the reality is that he says that "Stanley could make her laugh," meaning Ford's "freakishness" (as he would put it) has less to do with his six fingers and much more to do with Ford's personality and the way he interacts with others.

This is actually worse. Fingers, you can fix, if you want to. By the time you're an adult, most people probably wouldn't care. But to Ford, his fingers seem to be more a manifestation of something internal, something he feels is fundamentally broken about him and that's just the absolute worst hell to be stuck in.

So yeah, it's hardly surprising Ford fell so hard for Bill's shenanigans (and you can define "fell so hard" however you want, although that karaoke page in BoB is especially damning). Here's an interdimensional being who not only can guide you to unlocking the secrets of the universe and propel you towards scientific fame and glory (and thus shoving every taunt, invective, side-eye, and eye roll ever hurled at you over the decades down your tormentors' throats) - but he's (on the surface) completely glib about being a freak himself.

For Ford, this must have been like finding a shady, sparkling oasis after thirty years of trawling through the desert (especially after Stanley's "betrayal" - Stanley, who along with Fiddleford, being the only person Ford felt like he could be himself around and still be accepted as a human being).

Now, is Bill trying way too hard to show how much he doesn't care? Uhhh, yeah. Bill has almost the same hangups as Ford. Labeled a freak for a genetic mutation and ostracized by his peers. Has a rare gift in that he can see not only into the third dimension but can see even past that, into possible dimensions and futures, which is a wild skill to have. Compare this with Ford's gigantic science brain and academic overachievement. Same deal. And not only this! Bill, in an attempt to prove what he can do with his "freakishness," to prove his worth and place in the universe - he tries to show off something to the denizens of his dimension (we don't know yet what Bill did), only to end up slaughtering his entire dimension. Ford was a hair's breath away from doing the exact same thing with the portal. Because we know from Journal 3 that part of his motivation is to be famous and get accolades for his work, and that maybe "girls will finally talk to me." (Which, Fordsy, let's be real here - I don't think you're actually into these "girls" for real, but you want the acceptance that comes with fitting in with societal standards, and getting a state-sanctioned girlfriend is exactly the type of thing Ford would want to make himself feel "normal.")

Anyway, the point being that if Ford had succeeded with his initial portal attempt, he would have basically wiped out his own dimension. Just. Like. Bill. And it makes you wonder - yeah, yeah, Bill wanted to party, Bill needed out of the Nightmare Realm, Bill's a psychopath who enjoys destruction.

But honestly? I think part it all was that Bill wanted someone like him. His own puzzle piece. Another monster. A being whose collateral damage in the quest to justify their existence in this universe ends in wholesale slaughter.

And Ford had the capacity to easily fit that mould.

[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - 4 -

M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Not edited : 3.8k words

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

You've spent the past week working through Katsuki's watch. Only putting it down when handed a time restricted request for a support item fix. Testing the quirk removing feature on Mei and a few others around. Since you couldn't remove your own, at least you wouldn't realize until a week or so.

Once all the kinks were worked out, you placed it in a nice sleek black watch box. Tying it closed with a burnt orange ribbon. You were giving it to him as a gift, just like all the other watches you've given him in the past. This one just a lot more expensive and fully designed by you.

It was already Friday by the time the watch was done, completing two days before you said you would.

Friday's were also the days that Katsuki worked at his own agency a couple blocks away. So after getting a cab to his agency, you walked through the door. Instantly being recognized by the security team for the office and being allowed through with only a quick screening, just in case someone was pretending to be you. You smiled at the receptionist, giving a quick wave before you headed to the elevator.

After pushing in the button for the top floor, the floor that only held him and his closest heroes, you opened your phone to check the time. It was right before his lunch started, which meant he would likely be getting out of the showers. He always took a shower after first patrol and once getting home.

The task of looking at your phone made you think of making yourself a watch, maybe with a support item for yourself incase within. Break-ins for support items were getting a lot more common now days and you couldn't be safe enough. With nanotechnology you could probably make an upgraded suit to the one you've made in high school, that shared many similarities to Iron-man's.

Before you could ramble in your own brain about the idea anymore, you reached Katsuki's floor. Stepping out of the elevator and greeting his manger who was sitting just outside Katsuki's office in his own desk.

"How's your day so far, Tanaka?" you smiled at him.

He looked up at you, "I work with Dynamight," he said plainly and looked back down to his monitor. He reminded you of Shoto that way. Blunt and straight to the point.

You laughed lightly, "Right, he can be a lot." You looked around the office for a moment, "I'm assuming he is still in the showers."

"You'd be correct," his monotone voice would of made you feel stupid if you didn't know him. He's always like this, never changing his tone. He was always one steady mood, it's the main reason Katsuki chose him. Tanaka wouldn't get upset, but rather not take no as an answer. Which Katsuki hated but needed at the same time. It helped his press a lot.

You rocked on your heels for a moment, "Well, I'm going to wait in his office."

"Wait," he paused you, his face slightly paled. He looked stressed.

"What?"

"He told me not to let you in there without him," he answered, face back to normal without the threat of you going in the office.

Your brows furrowed, "Why?"

He shrugged, "Just made it clear to not let you in."

"Okay?" you stood confused on what to do. Kirishima wasn't in the office yet, and neither was Denki or Sero. It was the main reason Katsuki had lunch at this time. "Do you have anything I can help on then?"

He looked at you from over his glasses, "I suppose. Do you think he is more likely to do an interview with Heroes' Gossip or a fan signing at a Hero Expo next week?"

Katsuki hated both those things. Heroes Gossip was exactly that, heroes' gossip, and it got into the nitty gritty details. People who did well on that show were Heroes like Denki and Sero, ones with enough charm to by pass and person questions. Katsuki only went on once, and it was a train wreck, they brought up the details of his childhood with Deku and you. Asking how he felt about the idea of you and Izuku dating. It set him off.

On the other hand, he hated standing or sitting in one area for too long, especially signing things for fans all day long. It was hell on earth for him. He'd have to deal with fan girls trying to grab at him as well as older people criticizing his work.

"I think a Hero Expo might be better, as long as there isn't a hero he hates there and it isn't longer than three hours," you gave your feedback.

"You don't think he's over the last interview?" Tanaka rubbed at his eyes under his glasses.

You hummed, "He likely is, but that doesn't mean that it won't happen again. It'd be another PR nightmare."

"What is?" you looked towards the voice. Giving Katsuki a bright smile.

"Just you," you teased.

"Fuck off," he grumbled, walking past you and to his office door.

"Am I allowed in now?" you stepped alongside him.

Katsuki looked at his manger, giving him rare look of appreciation, and opened his door, "Yeah, Tanaka got food for a us a little bit ago. Should still be warm."

He opened the door for you, letting you walk in first and stepping in behind you, letting the door fall shut.

"What's up with the extra chair?" you pointed towards the chair that sat to the side that matched the one at his desk.

He walked towards the chair, grabbing in at rolling it to sit on the other side of the desk, "Yours, you always fuckin' steal mine."

You flushed at the gift. It was a open invitation into his office. It showed your place next to him. You ran your hand over the top of the chair, spinning it around to see the small details of your favorite color in the stitching. He custom ordered it.

"Thank you," you smiled at him, "You're the best." Finally, you take a seat and rolling it closer to his desk in order to eat. Setting your bag down next to you.

He flushed at the praise. "Tanaka got some of the food you likely from down the street," he pushed a takeout box near you. You instantly opened it, seeing it filled with your favorite order. It was a small sushi bar that you went to often, loving their rolls. Kirishima showed it to you after Fat Gum showed him.

You cracked open a pair of chopsticks that were left on top of the takeout box. Quickly looking to see that he was already digging in, obviously starving from work. "Busy day?" you asked picking up some food and eating a bite.

"Two bank robberies from one group. Pain in my ass," he grumbled, quickly scarfing down more food. After he physically couldn't fit more food in his mouth, he swallowed and drank some water before adding, "Got their asses though."

You nodded along, eating your food at a normal human pace.

"You do anything?" he put picked up another sushi roll in his chopsticks, dipping it in a spicy soy sauce.

The watch in you bag basically burned you with how quickly you remembered about it. Excited to finally give it to him. Before the look could wash over your face, you schooled your features. "Just normal work, Mei blew up some of her new project, so that was something." You were slightly surprised he hasn't brought up his watch to you recently. But you figured it was because his quirk calmed down a little, you haven't seen it act up since Tuesday.

"Isn't she always doing shit like that?" he asked, pointing his chopsticks at you.

"Yeah," you laughed. Looking down at his box you saw he only had two pieces left when he order two full rolls. "God damn vacuum cleaner," you laughed at him.

"Fuck off," Katsuki barked, "I was fucking workin' my ass off today."

"Still, god damn," you often teased him for how fast he eat compare to you. While he was on his last bites, you still had five to go. It wasn't that you were a slow eater, he was just a insane person.

He bit down on the last bites of food. Grumbling and crossing his arms. Proving whatever point he had.

Katsuki went on about his day as you finished up your food, going over how the chase went and what quirks the people had. It was the normal conversation of your lunches. He shared what he could about his job and you did the same.

Once you were done, he grabbed your take-out and threw away your trash. Harshly falling back into his chair, black with orange lining, matching yours.

You looked over his face, idly listening to him go own about his day as you admired him. He had a scar covering the right side of his face. Looking at it too long reminded you of what happened that day. The thought made you want to through up. Quickly, you pinched the fat of your thigh, reminding yourself of the present. You often went into thoughts like these. It was painful but the life of a pro heroes girlfriend.

Rather than dwell on his injury, you looked over the rest of him. His eyes were bright with a fire as he explained how he saved a kid from being buried in cement. You looked over the broad length of his chest, watching it rise with his breathing. Scanning down his arms till you saw his rough fingers drumming across the desk. All the small ways the proved he was alive.

"You good?"

The sudden question knocked you out of thought, you plastered on a smile, "Yeah."

His face scrunched up. before he could call bullshit you moved to reach for your bag.

"I actually brought you something too," you move your hand around your bag before you brought up the watch case. You placed it in the middle of the desk. His face was blank but his eyes were running over the box like crazy. You pushed it towards him when he didn't make a move for it, "Open it."

He glanced up at you, receiving a nod of encouragement, before he grabbed the box. Despite being a rough person, in attitude and everything else, he undid the box as carefully as possible. Sliding the ribbon off and opening the box slowly, as it would shatter.

His hands started shaking at the sight of it. In fear of dropping it, he rushed to place it back on the table. Frantically wiping his hands on his pants.

"Do you like it?" you questioned, worried from his reaction.

"How does it work?" he replied instead, picking it up and putting on his right hand.

Relieved that he liked it enough to immediately wear it, you leaned to point at the watch. "So if you twist this dial to the left one click, then to the right two clicks, and then back to the left for three click, you will have it unlock for identification, " you explained the detailed process. He wanted to make sure that no one else could unlock it and you made sure of it. Even you couldn't activate it once you set passwords in place. "Finally, see how it says 100% that's what your quirk is at right now, so turn it to zero and see how you feel," you sat back in your seat, watching him turn the dial.

He looked like a kid on Christmas as he spun it to 0%, his eyes flicked to you, "So I can try to use my quirk and it won't work?" You nodded.

With the dial at 0% he immediately felt the difference, the constant buzz of his quirk washing away, leaving just the buzz of your presence to warm him. He raised his hand outwards, still weary as he tried to set off his quirk, getting no spark or feeling of it at all. He tested a stronger explosion but received none.

"It fuckin' works," he smiled almost wolfish. You could see the ideas running though his brain at the lack of spark.

He played with the dial a little bit, seeing how the 20% and 40% suppressed his quirk. You glanced at the clock above his desk, seeing your lunch almost up. You'd have to leave soon if you wanted to stay on schedule. "Will this help your quirk training?" you asked, making sure he got what he needed.

"Huh?" he looked down at you from where he was standing and testing his quirk.

"You asked Z' about it for quirk training, that and your quirk's been weird," you filled in the gaps, lost as to how he didn't understand what you were talking about.

He let out a cough followed by a nervous laugh, "Yeah, should work great."

You shot him a look at his odd behavior, picking up your bag and standing to leave.

"What's your plans tonight," he fumbled with his words slightly.

"None?" you hiked the bag better unto your back, grabbing your phone so you could place an uber back to your agency. You didn't have your walking shoes on today. "I was just going to head home and read," you finished answering, "Why?" You quickly finished placing an uber before looking back up at him, confused once again.

His face flushed, " Ramen then? At out favorite spot," he stumbled to add on.

Your face softened. That was your main date spot, only used on highly celebrated dates or anniversaries. "Why there?"

"Just want to have a date with you," he mumbled, face now bright red.

"That happy about the watch? Kats you don't need to take me to dinner, I make you support gear all the time," you stepped closer to him, having been separated by his desk before he stepped around to you as well.

"You wanna go or not?" he huffed, fed up with being embarrassed.

"We don't need to-"

"Do you want to? Cause I want to," he cut you off, he crossed his arms as he leaned into his desk, you standing in front of him.

"Sure," you held back the tease, not wanting to set him off.

"Good, we'll leave home at seven," he pushed off from the desk, walking you out to the door.

You smiled at him, "See you then."

---

The ramen joint was fancy and hidden. Hardly anyone went there if they didn't want extreme privacy. It was something you and Katsuki quickly learned that you needed in your relationship. The public didn't fully know about your relationship, but they did know you two were close and childhood friends. So people speculated off that. So to avoid rumors, Katsuki and you went to hidden gem restaurants.

This ramen joint being a favorite, it was lit purely off candles or warm low lights. It was one of the only, if not the only, romantic restaurants that you two went to. Cozy lights with a dress code of formal.

So the two you walked up to the door, Katsuki offering a hand to help you up the stairs before the restaurant. While your heels and dress didn't make it too difficult, it was nice that it was offered. After grabbing his hand, you expected him to let go at the top of the stairs, but he led you through the restaurant, following the hostess and dragging you along.

Only when at the table he let go. Once the waiter got your drink orders Katsuki fumbled with his hands, "Thanks for the watch."

"Kats, it's nothing," you laughed off, "I've made you many support items, I don't know why you're so happy about this one." His face flushed at the call out. It really confused you, he seemed thrilled that he could turn off his quirk. It was honestly sad. Before you could ask anymore, the waiter gave you your sake and water before taking your food order. The service was great, but annoying for conversation currently.

"Just noticed the detail in this one," he shrugged, "fits me well and shit."

Now he was trying to play it cool? It was all weird.

"Are you sure you're telling me everything?" you accused.

"How was work this week? We spent lunch talkin' 'bout mine," he redirected the conversation.

You shot him another glare at his weird behavior, you'd figure him out eventually. For now you'd have a nice dinner with him.

---

Dinner was just that. Nothing much more. Service was great, so was the food, but conversation was horrible. He dodged any question towards himself, even if it was small. It was all about you and it felt wrong, in a strange way.

The two of you walked the short way back to your apartment. But with looking up at the sky, you regretted that decision. Small water droplets cover the sidewalk slowly. The rain painting it slowly. The streets were empty at only 9pm, you should of taken that as a sign of bad weather. Regardless, the two of you continued walking, him grabbing your hand once out of the restaurant. It was weird, but you let the thought fade at the chance to hold unto him for a little longer.

You swayed in your steps taking up the sidewalk as you stretched your arm to stay linked with Katsuki. He gave you a smile at your behavior. Making you flush and focus more heavily on your step. It reminded you of the romance movies the described this exact situation. A couple walking in the rain, late at night, streets empty as they confessed their love.

Katsuki tugged you towards him, spinning you into his hold, his hand letting go of your and grabbing onto your hips and you leaned into him. Your hands resting on his chest from surprise at the sudden change.

"You got that look on your face again," he smirked down at you. While used to his smile over the years, his smirk still made you weak in the knees.

"Huh?"

"You have a face you make when your thinking on your shitty romance movies," he pointed out.

"I do not," you pouted.

"Yeah it's like this," he scrunched him face to mimic yours horribly.

"Is not," you slapped his chest lightly, "I'd be surprised if you dated me while I made that face."

"Uh huh?" he teased, "cause it was spot on."

You rolled your eyes, face red from being in his hold.

"So what were you thinkin'?" he pushed, squeezing your hips slightly.

"Just all those movies with couples," you dodged until he squeezed again. "Fine, couples kissing in the rain, happy?"

His face flushed, matching the red hue on yours, before he looked up to avoided your stare. You were surprised he was holding you in general, but the fact he hasn't let go truly stunned you. Hugs between you two didn't last longer than a couple seconds. And this was a lot more romantic than a hug.

"Do you wanna?" he looked back down, his eyes tracing over your face between landing on your lips.

"Wh..what?" you stuttered. He looked back up to your eyes.

"Do you want to kiss?" he spelt out for you, face becoming impossibly redder.

"Yeah," you breathed out, looking down to his lips before both your eyes shot to look at each other. Making sure this was okay.

The tension was shooting through your bones. He hasn't offered to kiss since graduation, which was over a year ago.

He pulled his hand away from your waist and up to your face, wiping away the rain that fell on your cheek before he slowly leaned in. You eyes fluttered shut before you felt his lips hit yours. Instantly melting into the new feeling.

Every time before he was either freshly from the hospital or the two of you were excited and let it run you into a kiss that only lasted a moment before you were off running to friends and family during graduation.

Your knees caved slightly, letting you fall even deeper into the kiss, deeper into him, as you tilted your head. The kiss was just like him, explosive. It left you buzzing as he pulled away for a breath.

He rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes before breathing out heavily, "I'm sorry we don't do that often enough."

Your once closed eyes shot up, you slightly pushed away from him, "What?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, "I just wish I haven't been holding that out of our relationship."

You pushed yourself out of his hold, stepping back, "Katsuki Bakugo."

"What?" he almost demanded.

"I told you that I was fine without physical touch. I've been fine without it. Yet the second you've found out, you've been weird," you pushed a finger into his chest, "Now your kissing me, saying sorry? How do you think that makes me feel?"

He shook his head, "I don't see the problem."

"Of course you don't," you basically lectured, "Our relationship has been steady. Sure it hasn't been typical, but it's been us. Yet the second someone mentions that I like touch, you've been all weird."

"I want to make you happy? Is that fuckin' horrible?" Katsuki huffed.

You scoff, "No, but you were already making me happy. Now you are doubting our relationship, not telling me about your quirk issues, and worst of all, pushing yourself when I didn't ask. If you aren't ready for things that's fine! If your never ready, that's also fine. I just want you Katsuki. I want the you that doesn't give two fucks about what anyone thinks."

His head hung, his hands coming up to rub at his face. "I don't know how to fuckin' do this shit," he mumbled.

You stepped closer to him, "Just stop worrying about every little thing. I'm with you, you don't have to win me again. Just do what you want and I'll tell you if I have an issue."

"And what if what I want is to kiss you more and other stupid shit," he muttered under his breath.

Your face flamed with the comment, "Well," you cleared you throat, "if that's what you want, then I'd be happy to. But only if it's what you actually want."

"Of fuckin' course it is, why wouldn't I want to kiss my damn girlfriend," his wolfish grin was back quicker than ever as you pulled you into him. Quickly getting over the little spat the two of you just had.

"I don't know, you haven't wanted to before," you shrugged in his hold.

"Oh I've wanted to," he protested.

"Then why haven't you?" you tilted your head.

"Reasons," he took your held tilt as an opening, slotting his lips against yours. You slapped at his shoulder for dodging the question but you quickly moved to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. He hugs you closer as he swayed the two of you in your kiss. Letting the rain soak the two of you to the bone without a second thought. Only worried about the one in front of you. Any worry dripping out of your soul just as the water dripped out of your clothes. Because even though he hated the rain, he loved you more.

-Next Part-

In them m.list of this fic comment if you want to be added into a tag list <3

I'll no longer add people to the taglist if they haven't commented there. It's too much to keep up with all the new part. Hope you understand <3

@sweetpandabiscuitrebel @drageonix24 @i-bitch-you-bitch @limitedstars @fairiesgloss @venusluvslove @albakugo @juicyfingers @thescarletwallflower @snxwflwr @xreiiss @sinyaaa @zoast32 @supersecretsamm @ivurie-xo @mushroomsneedystuff @kazuumii @keiva1000 @atashiboba @ofcqdesi @americasass1942 @kaboomkayla @ilovedenk-i @iamyoursonly @oddball08

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[space-blue]

A complete guide to Blue Daddy's Girl (my) Arcane fics

Multi-chapter

Fathers and Daughters (My big hit)

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100k words. Completed. Fanart chapters and art comms.

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2.8k words. Unfinished. Only a single chapter and no plans to continue.

☆ Arcane Art Dump 

The home of all my Arcane fanarts worth saving.

One Shots

Those are sorted by kudos, from the most popular down to least.

Pretty Blue Puffs of Arcane Smoke

829 words. Silco and Powder discuss getting tattoos. Set in the Fathers and Daughters AU.

Worries, and ways to dispel them & Explosions, and their fallout

5k words total. Silco x Reader two parter, written in the week before season 1's finale. 2nd person gender neutral reader without body description.

Lost Child

3.7k words. Pirate Silco is back in Zaun and trying to avoid Vander. He runs into a lost child called "Cait" at Bridgewaltz market.

The Monster Within & The Monster Without

1.3k words for Monster Within. Post-betrayal Silco recovers and cuts his hair. Based on a fanart by @/Wish. 1.6k words for Monster Without. Set at the same time, but Vander POV as he deals with emotional turmoil after attacking Silco (probably my favourite one shot to this day).

Adoption

1.8k words. Vander and Silco are still brothers. They discuss adopting the girls in this no-betrayal AU.

Beer And Bribery

2k words. Vi & Sevika. Set in the Fathers and Daughters AU. Vi asks Sevika for help picking a present for Silco. Written for the Arcane parenting week event.

Let Me Try

4.3k words. Newest on the list! Arcane season 2 finale fix it. Timebomb... Ekko walks away from the final battle in a daze after learning that Jinx is dead. She isn't, no matter what Vi may believe.

Not Dead Yet & A Friend In Need

3k words total. Jinx finds a dead body in Zaun, but Viktor isn’t quite dead yet. Jinx & Viktor, written prior to season 2 for Sicktember.

Without Questions

627 words. Written for a fanart that is currently down, but hopefully I'll fix it soon. Young Zaundads fluff. Vander doesn’t understand what Silco sees in him, but he’s not willing to question it.

Gun Nerds Of All Nations

3k words. Set in a similar AU to F&D but not actually. Powder & young Caitlyn bond at a fair's shooting competition. Written for the Arcane Parenting Week.

Memories of Sweetness

2k words. Set in the Fathers and Daughters AU. Silco discovers that a staple food of his youth, long thought to have disappeared from Zaun, is back on the streets. He has to share this with Powder and Vi, both born too late to have ever tried it.

No Favourite

1.2k words. Vander claims he doesn't have a favourite among his kids, but they don't see it that way. Written for the Arcane Parenting Week.

Hard Truths

3k words. Ren (Marcus' daughter) tries to find to meaning to her father’s death and ends up meeting Jinx in Zaun.

Blame

830 words. Jinx POV heavy angst. Jinx talks to Silco after his death, until Sevika comes to find her. Written for the Arcane Parenting Week.

A Lesson In Silence

3k words. Set in the Fathers and Daughters AU. Mek (now known as Gustove) takes Powder on a spying mission. Written for the Arcane Parenting Week.

Last Chance

1.3k words. Past Silco/Vander. Missing scene in the cannery, a private conversation between them. Generally bitter sweet and canon compliant.

Son of Zaun

2k words. One day, Silco's mother took him up-top, to see the sky, the sun, and the people who live above them all.

Sepia Smile

732 words. The photograph is faded, its sepia tones keeping the colour of the man's eyes a secret. Vi stares at it for a long time, perplexed. She doesn't understand what Vander saw in him. Written for the Arcane Parenting Week.

A Terrible Gamble

2.3k words. Jinx (and Silco whispering in her mind) set off to rescue Vander from Singed’s lab after the events of season 2.

On Your Head

2.5k words. Alternate retelling of Mel and the young princess' of her memories. In the Princess' POV.

Drunken Dreams

Comic fanart. Jinx brings a drunk Vi home.

Just a cough & Dramatics

685 words for Just a cough. The moment Silco wakes up with a sore throat, he knows he's in trouble with Vander. Written for Sictember. 1k words for Dramatics. Vander sickfic to match.

A Fresh Start

1.9k words. Second person POV where you are brought to a recovering Silco in secret, and give him a haircut and much needed comfort. Gen fic.

Eat You Alive

604 words. Dark!Vi kills Caitlyn as soon as they enter the Lanes.

Maintenance

1.6k words. Explicit. A smutty Mek/Marcus with power dynamics in Silco’s office.

A Haunting

754 words. Heavy angst Vander & Silco meet shortly after the betrayal.

A Touch of Memory

2.2k words. A self-indulgent Star Wars crossover set in the Old Republic with Sith Silco, Jinx and Sevika and Mandalorian Vander. Has links to fanart.

In the Jaws of the Fox

247 words. Mel/Jayce. Mel contemplates the man sprawled in her bed, sleeping insouciantly.

Who Saves The Boy Saviour?

1.3k words. Dark fic!! Jinx captures Ekko post season 1 finale and straps him to the chair Silco used on Vander. Timebomb.

Ragdoll

766 words. A look into young Silco and Vander's budding relationship. It's complicated. With art, made for the Zaundads Zine.

A New Tattoo

968 words. Set in the Fathers and Daughters AU. The story behind Mek’s tattoos.

Five Times Vi Got In Trouble

4.8k words. Vander & Grayson friendship fic done for a charity prize.

Bullseye

500 words. Mel Medarda/Grayson. Mel takes the sheriff with her to visit a progress day and asks her to show off in a shooting range.

My Ko-fi is open for tips, but I'm also open to discuss writing commissions. My DMs are open | Find me on Bsky

[lyricailove]

Does it ever hit you that because of Frank and Monica's emotional detachment, all of the Gallagher's seek out affection from romantic partners? But like to an almost obsessive degree.

Fiona's is obvious. She's hypersexual and falls in love easily. She will downplay her issues with Frank as something she's grown used to, but it's clear that it still affects her. She also does the same when it comes to Monica but I feel like her hostility towards other women comes from how she doesn't trust Monica, doesn't really trust herself, and sees those insecurities on other women. Ex: Her treatment of Mandy and distrust of her around Lip.

Lip is a classic case of a man dealing with his mommy issues by making it every woman's problem. He's hostile towards his romantic partners when they want a real commitment from him and he talks to women with so much disrespect that it's a wonder someone hasn't stomped his ass out yet. He's especially harsh towards his own sisters even though they've been the one's who have been there for him. He may hate Frank but he's noticeably giving and extremely forgiving towards men, even those he's only known for a short while. Almost like the story about the turtle was just as much about him hoping that he could fix Frank as it was about Frank crushing his hopes of a real father figure.

Ian being groomed is in no way his fault and is the fault of the creeps who pursued him. But I can't ignore the fact that Frank's abuse and neglect opened him up the further abuse he suffered at the hands of Kash and Ned. It's no coincidence that both Kash and Ned shower Ian with gifts and compliments about how impressive, smart, and mature he is.

Debbie 1. deals with comphet in the first few seasons, and 2. Feels ignored by her family so she tries to create her own family. Debbie is visibly the one most affected by Frank's issues and even when she for all intents and purposes gives up on him, it still affects her. Frank's hurtful words about her only finding love with someone "just as fucked up as she is" pushes her to put consider a dangerous situation with Heidi. She's also someone who struggles with control issues because she needs to help other people. She's a problem solver by nature. It's just that the two problems she wishes she could solve more than anything are out of her hands (Frank and Monica). She can't fix Frank's addiction, his selfishness, or his abusive tendencies. She can't fix Monica's wanderlust, her avoidance, or her aversion to long-term commitment.

Carl is so good at masking his emotions. It's easy to miss. But then you notice things like his attachment to Fiona, his absolute devotion to the girls he likes, and his need to protect. Carl is hypersexual, even though I've seen it rarely brought up in fandom, and longs for a long-term girlfriend. When he does get girlfriends he's all in from the beginning. When Carl loves someone he is all about them. He's so casual when it comes to talking about Frank and Monica, but that doesn't mean those feelings aren't there and they aren't affecting him.

Liam is still young so we don't get to see him in a relationship. He's the one Gallagher who's consistently treated like an actual kid. Probably the one who has the best chance at healthy emotional attachments. But then again, Fiona leaving most likely did a number on him and we weren't privy to what that looks like for him because the latter seasons forgot how to do long-term storytelling and emotional payoff. All we know is that he doesn't remember Monica, Frank being gone makes him an orphan and he's worried about where he's gonna live because Lip forgot that Liam was technically under Frank's care. We didn't get to see it, but I'd say Liam's first emotional crash is probably on the horizon.

[mysteryshoptls]

Silver Vanrouge Shared Lines

Tutorial: Let's go.

Level Up 1: I am pleased to have increased my abilities.

Level Up 2 / Buddy Level Up: Good... I can feel the improvement.

Level Up 3: This is all do to training.

Level Max: Every time I swing my sword, I can feel the power coursing through my hands. It feels as though I am dreaming.

Vignette Level Up: I'm sure it isn't much fun being with me. And yet, you are constantly here... You are a strange one.

Spell Level Up: My magical power is nowhere near what Malleus-sama is capable of, but I intend on improving myself to the best of my abilities.

Friendship Level Up: I haven’t had much opportunities to visit another person’s home. If I do anything discourteous, I shall remedy my actions. So please, welcome be back again sometime.

Friendship Level Max: Thanks to you, I have been able to thoroughly enjoy myself. I am still figuring out how I could possibly relay these feelings of gratitude.

Uncapped: The stronger I become, the better I will be able to protect Malleus-sama. That is why I need as much power as I can gather.

Groovification: I'm happy. ...I don't look like it? I see. I'll fix it for next time.

Lesson Select 1: No class will ever be a waste to take.

Lesson Select 2: You can select whatever you'd like.

Lesson Select 3: You're choosing that one? I think it's fine.

Lesson Start: I'll do my best to not fall asleep.

Lesson Finish: It's finished. Time for my next training.

Battle Start: If you are ready, pick up your weapon.

Battle Won: I thank you. I was able to grow a little stronger.

Trouble 1: For me to lose my cool like that… It seems I still lack discipline.

Trouble 2: Apologies. I appreciate you stopping us from causing further troubles.

GIFT CALENDAR 2023: “How will you be spending the day?” I will be practicing my swordsmanship with Father after this. I thought I would finish up my assignments beforehand, but… Before I realized it, I had fallen asleep and my notepad was completely blank. What should I do…?

Birthday Login Message 1: A birthday? Mine? …Aah, I see… You have a good memory. I’m sure this year my Father will be planning a celebration. Will you come too?

Birthday Login Message 2: Oh, Prefect. So you came all this way just to wish me a happy birthday, I see. …Hm? What do I want as a gift? I cannot really think of anything in particular, but… such an answer would waste your generous offer. For now, let us go have a meal together. There, you can regale me with some of your stories. I may be able to learn something from them.

Birthday Login Message 3: Ah, [Yuu]. Thank you for your birthday wishes. …Hm? What would I like you to do for my birthday? Then, I’d like you to join me in eating all these snacks. I received much too many from everyone. I was worried I would not be able to finish them all before the expiration date. It’ll help having you to share them with.

Birthday Login Message 4: [Yuu]? You came to celebrate my birthday? Thank you. Whenever I receive such warm regards, not only do I feel the gifted kindness, but also I feel a need to hold myself straighter. I vow to continue to be someone worthy enough to be celebrated by everyone.

Birthday Login Message 5: [Yuu], thank you for the birthday wishes. As I thought, birthday celebrations are wonderful. What do I wish for? Let me think… I would like a physically fit body, I suppose. What’s wrong? Why do you look out of sorts? Sebek and Riddle both asked me the same question earlier, and they also had the same look in their eyes, as well. That’s not something you can prepare for me…? I’m not sure I understand what you mean, but I apologize for being unable to give you the answer you were looking for.

Requested by Anonymous.

[starreyblueberry]

THIS SOMEHOW TURNED INTO A JIMMYTIMMY FIC THIS WAS SUPPOSE TO JUST BE A RAMBLE.. LOWKEY brainrot over Timmy and Jimmy right now. Ignoring the fact that the specials are some of the best episodes from BOTH of the shows (idk what people say 1 2 and 3 were all peak), the characters Timmy and Jimmy have such potential?? Like two polar opposites who use different forms of creation to express their creativity, yet similar kids who could find solstice within each other, as they both feel left out within their lives due to differences they cant quite fix, but still are able to understand each other. How they both became quick friends who bicker, and actually taught each other how to live, idk I think it's sweet.

Maybe they kept in touch over the years? That they texted till Midnight? That they considered each other their best friends at one point? I mean- it would make sense! With what they both go though, especially if it spans years, them becoming best friends, being able to understand each other like no one else, it makes sense. They would visit each other's dimensions as much as they could. They didn't want to destroy the multiverse, but they also wanted to see each other. Jimmy had a small google calendar that at least once a month, had "Timmy Turner stay over" or "Visit Turner's dimension." Jimmy and Timmy would have sleepovers at each other's place, usually Timmy staying a few days with Jimmy. They would go too amusement parks one day, and space the next. Jimmy became close with the computer programs "Cosmo and Wanda" as well, having conversations with them about his inventions, and giving him actual advice! (Mostly Wanda, Cosmo usually just tried to shoot random things with his wand- but he was sweet in his own way) They even had a prototype called "Poof" appear once in a while. He usually clung onto Timmy and would call him his older brother (he questions the true sentience of these beings). They both had memorized every nook and cranny of each other's houses/cities. They both could pass as residents there with how much knowledge they had of the other dimensions. Hell- all of Timmy's friends knew who Jimmy was and all of Jimmy's friends knew who Timmy was. They even visited each other's schools a few times! They were part of each others lives even if they weren't part of the same reality, Timmy would teach Jimmy how to relax, it was something Jimmy struggled with, especially as he grew up. He was making world-altering inventions daily, but when Timmy was around, sometimes he would just listen to him talk about comics or go on a walk on a different planet. It was peaceful, especially as Timmy would push that he didn't always need to solve everything, and he was allowed to take breaks. Sure Jimmy still overwork himself, but he doesn't feel as guilty when he takes naps anymore. Jimmy taught Timmy that he's never alone and that people do in fact care about him besides his godparents. That while his family sucked, he wasn't fated to just be miserable. He was creative, kind, smart, funny, and people were idiots if they couldn't see that. Timmy won't ever admit to shedding a tear that day, as well as getting a gift for him the next day (A drawing of Gonard and Jimmy, as well as a polaroid attached to it of Timmy and Jimmy on the beach, splashing water on each other.) Timmy gained a bit more hope in the future after that.

Eventually, Jimmy could really see Timmy being his friend forever, and actually had a meaningful bond with him. That he never wants Timmy to leave his side, even if they bicker like a old married couple everyday, even if people tell both of them that their way to destructive together, even if somehow- some enemy of there's wants to make sure they both end up dead, Jimmy wants to find Timmy every step of the way. Timmy would have had the same thoughts if he hadn't known that it was all futile anyway. He would have had the exact same feelings- he does! But he knows that after he's 18, it's over. He knows that the moment the clock strikes 12, he can never step foot in retrovill again, he could never hear the name Jimmy Neutron again outside of blurry memories from his friends. He would forget every adventure, party, sleepover, late-night drives, and multi-dimensional butt-kicking he experienced with Jimmy. Timmy tried to hold it off for so long, he really did. He refused to let Jimmy know anything about this, he didn't want Jimmy trying to solve this, he knew that would be impossible. He didn't want all of his hangouts to just be speculation on how he could stay, he just wanted to spend some time with his best friend. With the person he would have spent the rest of his life with, if it was possible.

Jimmy was working on a surprise gift for Timmy. He was trying to do something creative rather than scientific since that was Timmy's style. He was trying to sew patches onto a pink hoodie, small white stars being embroidered along the sleeve. It looked simple sure, but it was something Jimmy was working on for days! He even set aside his latest project for it, which is saying a lot for Jimmy. They had planned a hangout just 2 days before his birthday, he knew that Timmy always spent his birthday with his computer programs, so an early birthday gift was due! Jimmy could hear the portal booting up from behind him, and he felt a spark of excitement within him. When Timmy stepped out of the portal, Jimmy folded the hoodie in his hands and was ready to hand it to Timmy, he hopped off his chair and walked to Timmy. He noticed the redness in his eyes and his tired demeanor, huh, must have had an adventure with his computer programs the day before. He was going to say Happy Early Birthday and a snarky remark on how he's surprised he reached adulthood. Timmy didn't let Jimmy get one word in before he broke the news though "Jimmy look, please please don't be mad at me I just-" Jimmy could already see the sweat forming on Timmys head, god did Timmy mess up again? dId he fuck up with some sort of extraterrestrial creature and needs his help? for the love of science. "I have something important to tell you." Timmy quietly says. Timmy shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, as he slightly looked down to avoid direct eye contact with Jimmy. "I've wanted to tell you for the past YEAR, and it been so hard to even find the words!" His voice is quickening in pace, he even grabs his hat and starts to fidget with it in his hands. "and I know I fucked up by not telling you sooner I know, but you deserve this explanation for what's about to happen, and I'm just gonna spit it out right here and now-"

Jimmy could see how panicked he was as if he was on a time limit. ... "I'm going to forget you, and retrovill- everything. There's nothing you can do about it either." ...At first, It was denial. Jimmy was so confused, he said he could probably just make a memory machine and bring them back later, all these "dramatics" weren't necessary. I mean, forget the past 8 years? He could practically sense the bullshit coming from that statement, He was already about to start working on it before Timmy refused. He explained how if he kept his memories, the computer programs could "fry up" or whatever. Jimmy just said he could alter them to have better software, but Timmy refused. "Look- I can just upload your memories into my computer and it'll be fine! I already have a bunch of videos of us throughout the years it wouldn't be too hard." He explained very casually, Jimmy quickly glaced over his lab as he said this, his hand following to showcase all the gadgets he could use to easily solve this!

"Jimmy no" Timmy put his hand on his nose, slightly squeezing it. "these programs are beyond whatever science-thingy you can do- its not just science its more complicated-" Jimmy interjected "Science can fix everything Turner, I thought you've known me long enough to know that," He said smugly as he slightly grinned at his comeback. Timmy just glared back, and Jimmy could sense that Timmy didn't want to just bicker around this "Jimmy you can't fix this, this isn't even possible to comprehend to the human mind, even a genius. I can't explain how the memory erasure works but I NEED to forget" Timmy puts his hands in the air as he says this, and his eyes get slightly wide as he continues on "or else there would be consequences that I don't want either of us to face, or my family, my world!" He exclaims with all the emotion he could muster in his voice. "I'm not letting you touch Cosmo or Wanda either." Jimmy quickly realizes with a quick look around the lab and Timmy's clothes that the computer programs weren't even there with Timmy, he must have thought this out, smart bastard.

Then, it was anger. They argued till their voice broke, until screaming was all they could do. Jimmy was furious, why wouldn't Timmy tell him. He must have known, all these years, he must have known that everything would shatter and become whatever shit show is happening right now, Jimmy was so sure he could fix this, while Timmy was saying it's not possible, and all Jimmy could do is keep asking why isn't it, while Timmy would just avoid the question. He was thinking of every single invention, every single piece of technology, of scientific knowledge that could help, until Timmy says that its out of Jimmy's hands, and that he knows nothing can be changed. "Why the hell wouldn't you tell me?? I could have solved this by now, I could have, why the fuck wouldn't you have let me" Jimmy puts his hands in the air as he exclaims this Timmy takes a step back "Because I knew you would have a meltdown over this, I knew you would just try and solve this with whatever gizmo you have and then come up empty-handed-" "Since when have I ever come up empty-handed." Jimmy takes a step forward, frustration dripping as he stares Timmy directly in the eyes. Timmy takes a slight pause and just slightly squints his eyes. "You would have if you worked yourself to death" His voice slightly breaks as he says this, his feet feel stuck to the ground. Jimmy can feel his face heat up "You didn't let me try!" He can hear his own echo in the lab at this rate "Cause I wanted to hang out with you! I wanted to actually be with you at the moment, not worried about- this!" Timmy gestures to Jimmy himself as he says this, his voice getting more and more meek. He was practically pleading, with Timmy, begging him to let him at least let him try. He was coming up with different solutions, maybe living in Retrovill instead! Sure he has no idea what that would do to the multiverse, but he could invent something to protect the fabric of it while Timmy stays, or maybe if Timmy would just let him alter his computer programs he can figure out a way to make sure his memory wouldn't overdrive their software, or maybe he could look at da rules himself and check for loopholes- or maybe- "Stop. Please just- just stop." Timmy's voice cracks as he says this, tears shining in his eyes. Jimmy could see his own reflection within them. He could see his own crazed expression, and how it affected Timmy. He focused on every single detail of his face, the heavy eyebags, the dull blue that was usually an aqua, he even noticed a small redness in his cheeks. It hurt, it hurt so much and he didn't. He didn't know what to do, and he hated not knowing what to do. It's a horrible feeling to not know what's going on, or what's happening around you. It feels empty and insulting, like it's a personal attack on who you are, and what you've been working towards your whole life.

It was the first time Jimmy cried in years. Hes not much of a crier, he's more of a scream-into-a-pillow or sulk-quietly type of guy. He doesn't like making a big fuss about his emotions, especially as he got older and was taking more serious projects that could actually impact the people around him. The last time he cried was probably when he was 11- but now it felt uncontrollable. Timmy soon quickly followed suit, tears flowing out as small hicks can be heard out of him. It was one of the worst days of Jimmy's life, no, it was the worst day of his life. How can this be something so out of his control, that he was about to lose his best friend, one of the most important things to him in this entire multiverse and he could do nothing. Jimmy was in a hysterical fit, he pulled his hair a bit as he felt his breathing quicken, he didn't know what to do he just didn't he's stumped. Hes Jimmy Neutron! Boy genius! He has 8 PHDS and multiple Nobel prizes under his belt, he has explored places that the average human can't even fathom, and yet he can't even save- Timmy always knew what to say. He was quick to comfort Jimmy the moment he saw him spiraling. He gently put his hands on Jimmy's hands and lowered them from his head, Jimmy didn't like physical contact, but god if he could glue Timmy's hand to his he would. He looked at Jimmy's eyes and smiled his stupid bucktooth smile. As if that would make everything go away, as if that would erase the fact that he's going to go away forever, Jimmy couldn't help himself from smiling back though. God Timmy was the one about to forget everything and yet he comforts Jimmy? He ridiculed himself in his mind for making Timmy help him, and yet he wanted to hear whatever he had to say so, so badly. Timmy took a deep breath before talking "I've, never been the most articulate," his voice strained, like he's struggling to talk. "but please trust me when I say this. Even if I forget, there's nothing that could erase all the fun we've had together over the years. These memories, just cause they're not in my mind directly, don't erase the fact that they happened!" Timmy states with hope in his tone, he slightly rubs the back of Jimmy's hands with his thumb. "Somewhere, out there, in some form of reality, it showed that we spent all those years together fucking around, and that will always mean everything to me." He looks at Jimmy's eyes when he says that, and grins at him. Jimmy laughed a bit at that sentence, which caused Timmy to smile even more, he didn't stop talking though. "No matter who I meet, no matter where I go, no one can ever top you Neutron, and I promise that. Even if we both forgot somehow, even if the world was destroyed, it wouldn't erase the fact that at one point, we existed together, and everything was ok." After an hour or two, Timmy spent the whole day in his dimension. He said goodbye to Cindy, Sheen, Carl, and even Jimmy's parents. Sheen and Carl cried a bit, they didn't fully understand, but they said they'll miss him, and that they'll read the crimson chin comics Timmy lent them in remembrance. Cindy hugged Timmy for a few minutes, she actually considered Timmy really good company, and she lent Timmy one of her hair ties, even if he never used it, Timmy said hell keep forever. Jimmy's parents were.. hard to say the least. They both liked Timmy, but they didn't get the full grasp of him leaving, so Timmy just said that he was moving abroad to England. They just asked him to visit whenever he can and to keep in touch. It almost made Jimmy cry for a second time that day, which would have been a new record.

The walk to Jimmy's lab was quiet, barely a sound was made between either of them. You could hear the small footsteps they were both taking, walking a bit slower than average. Once Jimmy entered his lab, he could feel the cool breeze of the ac he left on lingering. He saw the portal, and he knew that he had to power it on. That he couldn't just keep Timmy here, but his feet wouldn't take another step. "Thank you." Timmy puts a hand on Jimmy's shoulder as he says that. Jimmy can't even say anything, he has no words could really express any emotion he's feeling right now. He just nods slightly and smiles at him. He knows that's probably the last time they'll ever smile at each other again. Jimmy finds the switch to the portal and boots it up, he sees the green swirl and feels nauseous just looking at it. Usually, the sight would trigger some excitement within Jimmy, but he just feels dread as he sees Timmy walking up to the portal. He really wished he could just freeze time and hang out with Timmy for one more second, but he knows he can't. Jimmy just sighed and was ready to wave goodbye, until he remembered something so important- god how could he forget- that he screamed at the top of his lungs- "TIMMY WAIT!" Right before he left, right before Timmy put his foot into the portal, Jimmy ran to his desk, ransacking it for- YES! Jimmy found the gift he was making Timmy at the corner of his table, with all the new sewing supplies he bought just for this occasion. Once he grabbed it he threw it to Timmy's way. Timmy snatched the hood and slightly gasped when he saw it. Timmy held it with such care, he called it sappy, but he couldn't erase the grin on his face. He tackled hugged Jimmy, and Jimmy barely could keep his footing. Jimmy could feel Timmy grabbing onto the back of his coat, and him relaxing onto his shoulder a bit more. Usually, Jimmy would complain about almost losing balance, and how suffocating hugs feel, but this time he latched onto Timmy as hard as he can. He pushed his head onto his shoulder and refused to be the first one to let go. It was the last hug hed ever receive from him, and he wanted to stay like this for as long as time would let them. Once Timmy let go, he turned around walking to the portal again. Jimmy could feel the tears pricking his eyes again, but he didn't feel as hopeless as this morning. "TIMMY!" Timmy abruptly stopped walking, mere centimeters from being transported into his dimension. "You're still the idiot I've known all these years if you think I'm not going to try and find you in the future." Timmy turns his head to see Jimmy smiling proudly at Timmy. "I don't care if your 30 working a desk job, or a famous comic book writer, or actor, or whatever! I'll go to your dimension myself, and find you. I'll figure out how to get your memory back, and.. if I can't- I'll just be your friend again, I'll do it all over again, and I promise that." Jimmy finishes off with a confident note. Timmy, in all his pessimistic glory, can't help but believe in Jimmy. "Thanks, Boy genius." "No problem, Average kid who no one understands."

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 7 part 2

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

from this moment on we follow the events from Lilia's point of view, experiencing time out of order like she does. nonlinear timelines are extremely difficult to convey onscreen, and the writers manage it so well that I still have to see someone confused by the way things unfold.

from a linear pov: lilia fell through quicksand with jen, she regained consciousness in a strange underground tunnel where she met rio. then she woke jen up, told her what billy did and that they were about to join the tarot trial. they hid from the salem seven. now they're on their way to meet the others.

from lilia's pov: she fell through quicksand (or should I say the Swamp of Sadness?), she had a glimpse of her own very near demise. then she found herself following jen through the tunnel. she has yet to meet rio and she doesn't know they're going to a trial.

see how jen immediately contextualizes where we're at? this is for us, the viewers, so we don't get too lost.

'where is rio', is the question that has been tormenting her. she just saw a glimpse of where she'll meet rio, plunging to her Death. but the loss of other people has been haunting her as much as her own.

love love love all the frantic panic patti conveys at the mention of wanda, as I imagine she doesn't give a shit about marvel and frankly can't be bothered to learn any scarlet witch lore. acting!!!

jen, now alone with lilia without alice acting as a bumper, is being real crabby with her. she thought they were bonding just a minute ago and now lilia's being annoying with her eccentricities

and just... the way she's talking to jen a moment and to alice the next

i miss you, sweet bub

and no need for any further explanation. we know exactly what's happening to lilia.

and just like that, she's talking to her maestra. lilia, what do you see? that has always been the question, hasn't it?

i would give my life for you, baby lilia

ah, capisco! you're visiting, eh? and this tell you two things: number one, how much of a (real and metaphorical) gift talking with the past can be. yes, you're seeing the long dead. no, you cannot bring them back. but you can still learn from them and put their wisdom to good use.

and number two: the importance of having a coven, or rather, a community, a support system. lilia's new coven treats her with awkwardness or even scorn, they don't know her, they don't understand. lilia's maestra doesn't even flinch talking to a woman from the future in the body of a little girl. she knows lilia's time works differently and she rolls with it. 13 or 500 years old, it's all the same, lilia is beloved and will be accepted no matter what.

lilia finds herself at her very first divination lesson and once again is dismissive of her own gift. maestra calls her out immediately: fesserie! bullshit!

this is the story of a great Seer who told herself she wasn't any good, who went into exile, who fled the company of her fellow humans. she chose to be seen as a fraud, isolated, humiliated, rather than to be hated and feared for what she could do. she closed her eyes and pretended not to see the horrors ahead.

I adore this transition between the tea leaves and the tunnel

again, no alice to deescalate. and lilia finally, finally speaks up. jen is the most unforgiving person in the coven and, arguably, the one whose opinion lilia respects the most. the high priestess.

and, to her credit, jen is willing to listen. to her credit, despite the dark path calling her, when jen sees something that she can fix, she is willing to try

I'm gonna do a play-by-play of what ms. lupone does here, because it's nothing short of mesmerizing. she raises her hand, trying to grasp at words. she looks down, the looks to the side. her hair has crumbled, she looks like a girl in pigtails. she is so small and scared.

she reaches out, bitter, sure, and nervous, but so eager for someone to understand. she takes deep breaths, tries to steady herself.

she cannot finish her sentences, her lips are trembling, she's shaking with small sobs. her eyes get so big. patti never goes over the top, she's reaching somewhere deep and intimate and raw. but you can't call this performance understated, there so much bubbling under the surface, and patti is perfectly in control, she's letting it out drop after powerful drop

she takes a moment to catch her breath, to feel the pain of it all

and jen... understands. lilia has done something so scary and vulnerable and brave. she has showed herself at her most defenseless, and she hasn't been rejected. and jesus christ this is what a coven is about, and it's what they were all missing. jen has seen lilia's burden and she has accepted it. from now on, she will help carry it.

ms. lupone. patti. how can you just walk on the set of a random superhero show and dominate it.

jen suggests the end of the Road might give lilia her powers back, but she is STILL so afraid to embrace who she is. she can't quite finish that thought because

WHOOPS

go to episode 7 part 3

[mosskingcreator]

Is- Is the Pup Drunk?! Part 1

First (here) Next-

Tim sighed as Damian tried to make his way past him to get to his Robin suit. 

“Damian no,” he commanded, spinning the chair around to look at the pup. 

Damian has been sick for the past few days and Bruce has benched him until he can get better. 

“Tt,” Damian clicked and walked back over to Tim’s side. “I do not see why I must remain here in the cave instead of going out and helping Father.” 

Tim just rolled his eyes, Damian had been trying to convince all of them for the past few days to let him go out as Robin, even if he was sick. 

“No chance brat. Not until you beat that fever and flu.” Tim wasn’t actually sure it was the flu, there were a few symptoms that weren’t matching up, but that may be attributed to Damian being weird. 

“It’s not fair. I can still fight just as well and-” Tim cut him off with a chuff, opening his arms and beckoning the puppy. Damian lurched forward unconsciously, before turning around with a scowl. 

“Until you’re not stressed and can keep your instincts from hurting you you’re stuck here with me pup.” Tim turned around and kept working away at the cold case he was sitting in front of. Alfred had stationed him by the entrance to help prevent Damian from getting past and out into Gotham.

“Master Tim, why don’t you both head upstairs to prepare for bed? Perhaps you can convince Master Damian to rest.” Speaking of Alfred, he was working at the batcomputer with the rest of the family outside to give Babs a break. 

“Alrighty Alfie, come on brat,” he huffed, getting up and dragging Damian away to the elevator. Damian grumbled the whole way, but he wasn’t going to go against Alfred. 

Once they got into the elevator, Tim began rubbing his wrist on Damian’s shoulder. It took a minute, but once the scent started to pour through, Tim rubbed his other wrist through Damian’s hair. 

Tim was a little surprised that Damian hadn’t bit or growled at him yet, but wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

Where did that phrase even come from? He should look that up. Tim kept his hand running through Damian’s hair and grabbed his phone to look it up. 

The elevator dinged and Tim let go of Damian and started heading back to his bedroom, maybe the nest if he felt like it. 

Thunk

Tim whipped around to look at Damian, leaning against the door of the elevator. 

“Damian?” 

Damian just shook his head and stumbled- stumbled out?

It was like all the grace that he’d ever had had just left him. Tim reached out and grabbed him to hold his brother steady.

“I’m fine Drake,” he muttered, but he was slowly tilting into Tim. 

“Bullshit, come here,” he said, dragging Damian over to the couch in Bruce’s study. Damian sat down with a plop, slumping down into the chair away from Tim. 

“What’s wrong, are you dizzy? Are you feeling sick, what do you need from me?” Tim’s instincts were going wild, the pup was sick, the pup wasn’t okay, and he needed to fix it. 

“I’m fine Drake, I just got a little dizzy and-” he cut himself off with a shaky breath, and looked up at Tim. “I just got a little tired and weak. I am perfectly fine.”

Despite his reassurances, Damian remained sitting in the seat looking weak, tired, and confused. 

Wait.

Weak, tired, dizzy, confused, dazed, unable to hold themselves up, shaky breathing, all right after a scenting? Tim could recognize the symptoms of scent drunkenness anywhere. He used to get scent drunk after long scenting sessions, anything over an hour, but after being exposed so much to Dick and Bruce, he’d eventually got used to it before presenting as an Omega. 

“Damian I need you to answer honestly,” Tim asked, holding out his wrist and swiping it against his cheek, and bringing it close to his nose “Is my scent making you dizzy or confused at all?” 

Tim looked Damian in the eyes, but Damian didn’t seem to be paying attention. Instead, he was leaning into Tim’s hand, almost nuzzling it, and his eyes were unfocused and glassy. A closer look revealed large, blown pupils.  

Damian didn’t need to nod and conform for Tim to be sure, but he waited a few minutes until he did anyways.

“Shit, okay buddy.” Tim drew his hand away from Damian’s face, then immediately threw his hands out as Damian tried to chase after the scent. Damian caught himself though, and pushed himself back unhappily. 

Tim sat on the sofa next to him and rubbed his neck glands to produce more scent. Damian sat there blinking confused, swaying towards Tim before jerking backwards away from him. 

Tim opened his arms and chuffed for the puppy. Wrapping his arms around Damian and leaning him in, allowing him to rest on his lap. Tim let out a soft purr, rubbing his scent across Damian’s hair. 

Damian sighed and went completely limp in Tim’s lap. A few minutes later Tim turned Damian over to look at his face. Damian was completely dazed and blank, his face relaxed, eyes half-lidded, and what pupil he could see was so large that his iris was just a small ring of green around it. 

Tim sighed and glanced at the clock. It had barely been five minutes and Damian was completely out of it. He’d never seen anyone get scent drunk so quickly. 

He paused for a minute to grab his phone, and Damian let out a whimper. A whimper. He’d never heard Damian whimper before. 

He scooped up his phone and went back to gently scenting the pup. 

He hacked into the coms and set it on speakerphone. 

“Master Tim I do hope you aren’t trying to keep working,” Alfred called over comms. 

“Hey baby bird, what’s up?” Dick called over comms.

“Hey Nightwing, B-man. Is Red Hood on this comm too?”

“Right here. This better be important.”

Tim sighed, again, and shook Damian awake. He let out a little hum as he woke up, and an even smaller whine as Tim tried to pull him into sitting up.

“Robin? Is that you?” Dick called through the coms. 

“Yeah it’s him,” Tim said, huffing as Damian flopped into his neck by his gland and breathed in. 

“What’s wrong? Is he hurt?” Dick asked overly concerned about the pack's pup. 

“He’s not hurt, but he’s definitely scent drunk,” Tim started off, before Damian pressed into him, and Tim let them flop down onto the couch. 

“Scent drunk? How long did it take you to convince him to let you scent him?” Dick asked, he was totally jealous. 

“I didn’t. I scented him in passing in the elevator.”

“Master Timothy, that was five minutes ago.”

“Yeah, once he got up here he was pretty out of it, but a few minutes later he was completely drunk,” Tim informed, as Damian fell back asleep on top of him. 

“So it took about 5 minutes for him to get drunk?” Dick asked.

“No, it took him one minute to get mostly there,” Tim clarified, “then ended up pushing him the rest of the way a few minutes later when asking him what was happening.” 

“Hng.” Tim is pretty sure that’s Bruce for ‘I’m coming home’, but he’s not sure. 

“I’m coming home baby bird, Little Wing? Are you coming?” 

Jason grunted, and apparently started moving towards the manor.

“I’ll see you guys when you get here, we didn’t get past the study.”

[rewvyu]

Latest Update on Infinity Nikki CN Stylists protest

It has been more than 12 hours since Papergames put out an statement on the protest and the many issues in 1.5. On Infinity Nikki's official Chinese social media channels; Weibo, and Xiaohongshu, comments have reached more than 78,000 as of this afternoon, 12PM UTC+8 Beijing time.

General consensus among CN stylists is that Papergames statement was a word-play aimed at normalising 220 pull max pity and that they have brazenly ignore many issues raised by stylists.

While some may argue that Papergames have been generous and all with the free gifts. CN Stylists real fight is for a fair and reasonable max pity and to protect consumer's right of fellow stylists. Since the launch of Infinity Nikki in December last year, what started out as a 180 pull max pity 5-star outfit have grown to what is now 220 pull max pity for a complete 5-star outfit. Many CN stylists that are loyal fan of the Nikki series knows all too well that Papergames are trying to push the line to make higher max pity a norm, as most of them have already seen it happened in the past Nikki games.

CN stylists have come out with a boycott plead for stylists to unite together and protect consumer's right, and fight against Papergames corporate greed.

Translated from a Xiaohongshu post : (note: I aim to do my best to provide the most accurate translation, but there may be some error here and there. For some parts, I have translated in a more appropriate wording to provide better context instead of literal translation. If you have any question, feel free to ask in reply or reblog and I will answer to my best ability)

Dear whales, dolphins, spenders, stylists, please once again hold your ground! Since the launch of 1.5 we have fought against the bad practices by not spending, writing negative reviews on steam, send our feedback to customer service, and reported them to the relevant government authority department. Yet, we received a perfunctory statement from Papergames. They are not acknowledging the issues, they are admitting that they are in a bad situation. Our protest has yet to success, we need to unite together and boycott by not spending any more. This version is still have long way to go, we have to force them to make changes, you will still be able to pull your outfit banners & buy store items closer to the end of the season. If we accept and let Papergames to keep releasing such perfunctory statement, giving perfunctory compensation; just 20 pulls, just only enough to pull for the new socks they added. If we don't fight back now, this will become a norm and in the future they won't even compensate the cost of the socks. If we, the stylists, forgives Papergames so easily then there will still be a next time and it will only get worst. Papergames apology statement translation into simpler terms: 1. We know the game have a lot of bugs, apologies, fixing, don't rush us, be understanding for the sake of Nikki. 2. Both 5-stars banners are pretty, it is so pretty we decide to add a 11-piece, not informing stylists is our fault, we won't make more than 11-piece for 5-star. (CN stylists take: you know they can add 6-stars or more with more than 11-pieces in the future) 3. Mira Crown, revert back to 14-days with a +1 to 2 extra days on top. Basically, two Mira Crown per month. 4. Workshop: future plan promises, we heard your feedback etc etc... (CN stylists take: they don't even address the colour palette unlocking issues) 5. Enough already, we are gonna take money from you and return it to you as compensation, now go play the game, and we have apologised, for the sake of Nikki let's not talk about it any more.

Other issues:

6. Don't forget they can even misspell Nikki's name! In the apology letter they say they love Nikki, it is just an excuse to say they love money. 7. They made changes to the Terms & Policies in-game with bolded red text without pre-informing us. 8. Cold-shoulder treatment to issues raised: Spending event issue, 68RMB bath tub, not splitting up the mermaid's tail, colour palette is still not universal unlock, no fixed max pity system, changing UI at will.

Clearly there should be a fixed max pity, more reasonable pieces (my understanding: they probably meant things like the mermaid tail), extra pieces can be given out for free when reached max pity pulls, opening gift boxes should reward everything (my understanding: they probably refer to the spending event issues), playing dead (not listening to stylists), do they not understand at all?

They know, they are just doing it on purpose so that they can create a new baseline. In the future when stylists complain about why there is only 11-pieces, they will use the argument that we complained about 11-pieces back then so they won't split any more pieces and continue to disgust stylists. (my note: CN stylists are not fighting against more pieces, they are fighting for a fair and reasonable max pity ceiling as part of consumer's rights)

For those that love Nikki, and those who hope that Infinity Nikki continue to thrives for a long time to come, no one is satisfied by the apology statement from Papergames.

Our Nikki is such a nice person, why should we take a step back and let such disgusting plan and marketing continue.

[doctorgirlsblog]

When Loyalty Fails (series)

Chapter 1: It's race weekend

4 years ago, Monaco

She kept starring at the two little pink lines, her eyes blurry with tears. She kept sitting on the toilet seat, test clutched in her hand as the panic started to set in. Conversation she had with Max not even a month ago, about waiting, about him not wanting kids now..it all rushed back in and she let out a sob. He is going to be home any minute now and no matter what, she had to tell him. Maybe once he knew, he would change his mind. Maybe it will change things between them for the better. In the last time, things between them were..rough. He was there, they ate together, slept beside each other, went out, but it was almost..platonic. There was simply no spark present anymore, and as Max blamed it on the tough season assuring her it had nothing to do with her personaly, Evangelina wasn't so sure. So yes, positive test in her pocket made her hope again, that everything maybe wasn't lost. She heard the front door open and close, sound of keys being put down and she knew he was home. She came out of the bathroom, test tucked safely in her jeans pocket. She smiled at his approaching form, going in for a hug, but Max turned to the kitchen, directly avoiding it, looking through the liquor cabinet, obviously making himself a G&T. Still, she thought nothing of it, too engaged in her big news. ''Max, I have to tell you something important. Something happened that-''

-''We need to break up.'' her words stayed on the tip of her tongue, not getting a chance to be said.

Her voice faltered. ''W-what?'' she couldn't believe what he said. Maybe she didn't hear him correctly. Yes, that was probably it.

Max took a sip of his drink, before leaning on the kitchen aisle. '' I'm sorry Lina. I really am. But I can't keep doing this anymore. Things aren't like they used to be anymore.''

She shaked her head stepping closer to him. ''No. Max, no. I know things weren't perfect in the last couple weeks, but we can fix this. Together. I wanted to tell you that I'm-''

''Don't you get it? I can't give you what you want Evangelina. I can't retire now, at the peek of my career, just to give you the family you want. I'm not ready to have kids yet. For God's sake, I'm only 24!'' he didn't want to lash out at her, but he was nervous and all of his pent up anger came out at the wrong moment.

That was the moment when she knew. Max didn't love her anymore. Max would not be a good dad to the little baby growing inside her. Heck, he made it pretty loud and clear that he didn't want to have any. Still, she didn't want to rob him of the chance to change his mind, to watch this new life grow, to be it's father.

''You..you're leaving me because I want to have a baby with you?'' her voice was almost a whisper.

Max sighed. ''Not because of that, Lina. Things aren't like they were for some time now. But yes, I don't want to have kids now. I can't possibly imagine myself being a dad.''

It was enough for Lina. He was pretty clear where he stood. But she wasn't going to destroy a life, just because he didn't want it.

''Okay Max. I understand. I won't be a burden anymore. I just hope that you won't wake up one day, here, alone, and realise that no number of those trophies can't compensate for a family. I hope it's not too late for you then.'' she left him standing in a kitchen, as she rapidly packed her things, leaving all of his gifts behind. As she stepped back into the kitchen with her bags at her sides, she took the keys from her purse, putting them on the counter before him. ''Goodbye Max. I hope I never see you again.''

With that being said, Evangelina was out of their once shared flat, her left hand placed on her belly protectively as she muttered softly. ''Don't worry little one. Mommy will always be here.''

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

She drove back to her old place, parking in front of the building. As she was taking her bags out of the car, she felt someone's hand on her shoulder. As she turned around, she came face to face with Charles' bright green eyes, his dimples on full display. ''Bonjour Leni. Long time no see.'' he was the only one that still called her Leni, saying her name didn't deserve that basic nickname 'Lina'. They were old neighbours, back from when she still lived here and before she moved in with Max. But right now, everything was overwhelming to poor girl and she felt the tears pooling in her eyes. Charles' smile fell. ''Leni, what's wrong? Did something happen? Are you hurt? Are-''

-''He left me.'' Charles' eyes widened. He knew her since forever, even before she started dating Max and to hear they broke up, no, that he left her after all this time, he couldn't believe it.

''Let's get you inside first okay? Come, I'll make us some tea.'' she nodded, not trusting her voice to not break if she spoke again. He took her bags, guiding her towards the entrance. He left the bags in her flat and went back to his, where she waited, sitting on his sofa, looking small as ever.

''I put your bags in the living room. Hope that's okay. I'll make you some tea now. Or..maybe you want something stronger?''

She turned to him, her eyes already puffy and red from crying. ''No, tea is great. I...I don't drink anymore, really.''

''Oh. Since when? It's not like you're pregnant or something.'' he tried to joke a little bit, trying to put a smile back on her face. But the sudden sob she let out, made him freeze. No, it can't be.. Was she..?

''Oh Leni..'' he sat next to her, pulling the girl into his arms gently. ''Does he know?'' she only shaked her head, tears still streaming down her face silently. ''Okay. It's gonna be okay. I promise. I'm here for you.''

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

And there he was indeed. Through her whole pregnancy, at every appointment, helping her set up a nursery in her flat. He was the only one who knew that the little baby girl, about to be born, was Max` daughter. At least biologically. Somewhere between the appointments, lazy nights in, burned dinners he tried to cook for her, something bigger blossomed. Charles fell for her, and he fell hard. When he kissed her after her last appointment, he tried to apologise. He couldn't even imagine that she would pull him closer and kiss him back too. So they gave it a try, but still decided to keep it private. After what happened with Max and with baby's due date approaching soon, Evangelina needed complete privacy. Charles understood. So, when he made her a proposition, to be there, to step in and let the little girl take his name, she cried. She cried and cried and anything Charles tried to say, was to no avail, because she kept sobbing and thanking him and nodding her head. It made his heart full. The little one may not be his blood, but he was going to give his best to make her feel loved and cared for. He already loved her and she wasn't even here yet. They talked about potential names, deciding on Emilia Charlotte Leclerc in the end. Even thought he hurt her that much, she still wanted her babygirl to have atleast a piece of him, that being his middle name. Charles understood and supported her, which made her fall for him even more. He was the one who willingly stepped up to be a dad to her little girl, the one who glued all her broken parts back together, the one who showed her more love in these 9 months than Max did in 2 years they were together. They decided that no one else will know the real truth, and that Charles is going to be her real dad, in every aspect of it.

The little one came couple of days after, with sweet blue locks that represented those of Lina and with the brightest blue eyes she ever saw. Fate could indeed be cruel sometimes, because her eyes were a pure mirror of those of her biological father. Yet, they said nothing about it. Charles fell in love with her from the first moment he saw her. When her little hand clutched his finger, he melted on the spot, his eyes tearing up instantly. ''Hello little one. I'm your papa and I'm gonna love you for the rest of my life. You're perfect, just like your mommy.'' As the baby cooed in his hands, two of them shared a loving look. Their little family was now complete and this was only the beginning.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Present, Monaco GP, Race day

Little Emilia, dressed in Ferrari shirt and cap with Number 16, was jumping in excitement beside Charles, not letting go of his hand as they walked through the paddock, all of the eyes glued on them, cameras clicking from every corner. Lina was on Charles` other side, also holding his hand, trying not to show how nervous she was. Charles leaned into her ear, whispering softly. ''Don't worry amour. It will be okay.''

They stopped at the media pen and the questions started.

''Charles who are your guests this weekend? Family?'' one of the reporters asked.

Charles hugged Lina, bringing her in closer, while Emilia kept looking up at him underneath her cap, smiling.

''This is my family. Things were kept private until now, because of our babygirl, but now that she's bigger she wants to see her Papa race. And this, is Evangelina, my beautiful fiance.'' Cameras started clicking around them, questions now coming from all sides, but Charles refused to elaborate further. ''Thank you for respecting our privacy, we hope for a win today.''

As he settled his girls in his garage, letting Emilia help him strap his helmet, everyone around them was melting at the sight. His mom and Arthur came too, all of them wishing him good luck before he got in his car.

The race wasn't that eventful. Charles kept his Pole position masterfully, leading the race from the first to the last lap, finally ''breaking his Monaco curse'' and winning his home GP for the first time. As he pulled to the P1 sign in Parc Ferme, he jumped into the awaited hands of his team, before he pulled his helmet off, looking at Emilia with her hands streched out towards him, picking her up and twirling her around as she yelled ''Papa won!!'' all while craddling his face in her tiny hands. He turned around towards Evangelina, her bright smile lighting the whole paddock, and he leaned in to kiss her, still holding the little girl up.

''I told you I'll win for you two.''

-''We're so proud of you bebe. So, so proud.''

He kissed her again, before handing her Emilia back, as he had to go up on the podium. While the Monaco`s national anthem played, almost everyone cried and Emilia kept yelling ''Papa'' happily waving at him. He smiled, looking up into the sky, silently thanking God for everything.

As Charles was packing his things, Lina took Emilia for a walk through the paddock, because she was getting restless just standing in garage. She laughed as Emilia run in front of her, jumping slightly and singing some kids` song she heard on the TV. It wasn't until she bumped into someone that she froze, eyes widening, instantly running back to her mom, hiding behind her leg.

''Emi, what's wrong bebe? Who did you-'' as she looked up, her whole body tensed. Because standing in front of her, after four years, was none other than Max Verstappen.

His eyes also widened, scanning over the little girl hiding behind the now black haired Evangelina. He didn't see her since they broke up and she looked completly different. Yet the little girl looked like her carbon copy. Wide blond locks, peeking under the Ferrari cap..he snorted. Of course she would be a Ferrari fan. But, it was something else that was gnawing in his brain and he didn't even realise that he said it out loud until she looked at him angrily.

"How old is she, Lina?" He asked, not tearing his eyes away from the little blonde girl still hiding behind her leg.

-"It's none of your business Max."

Before he could open his mouth again, the little girl laughed loudly, leaving her mother's side and running across the paddock, yelling, "Daddy!"

Max's head whipped around, seeing her run to Charles fucking Leclerc. His face paled.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

"Daddy!''

Charles picked her up in his arms, kissing her rosy cheeks gently as she tugged on his hair.

"Mi prinzipessa." She kept giggling as he twirled her around.

"Where is mommy, baby?" Charles asked, looking around them, hoping to spot Lina.

"With that scary man there. I don't like him daddy." Little Emilia pouted, her little fingers grabbing his hoodie, as Charles's head snapped in the pointed direction. His whole body tensed.

Max said nothing more, just kept starring at the two, feeling his heartbeat loud and clear, drumming in his ears, his fists clenching repeatedly at his sides.

Charles. His biggest rival. His frenemy. The only person that has ever managed to challenge him on track, was holding a little blond girl in his arms, looking like he had no care in the world. Girl that called him daddy, who's mother he haven't seen in years after everything that happened.

Same Evangelina, who was now standing across him, with the stoic expression on her face. Her once dirty blonde hair was now pitch black, making her pale complexion stand out even more. Her freckles were gone, features now sharp, eyes careful. There was almost no trace of the sweet girl he once called his. Or so he thought. Because as soon as she saw Charles striding towards them, with little girl on his hip; her whole face lit up, eyes shining brightly. Poker face that she gave him seconds ago, was now long gone, bright smile adorning her whole face. Max's face hardened. Charles looked him up and down, nodding quickly at him, before snaking his arm around her waist possessively, kissing her on the temple. Max didn't miss how her posture relaxed, body leaning into his touch contently.

"I was looking for you, amour." He murmured softly.

"Sorry bebe! I run into Max. Emi saw you and decided to run instantly." she looked at her little girl, still holding tightly onto Charles, her face burried in his chest.

Charles chuckled.

"That's my girl. Anyway, it's time Leni. We should go or we'll be late for the dinner." Saying that he turned to face Max again, who kept silent the whole time, observing scene before him.

"Nice seeing you, mate."

Max got himself to nod, smiling tightly, before he murmured a quick ''Yeah. You too."

Emilia kept sneaking glances at Max, peeking just from where she was burried into her dad's chest. Max smiled sadly. Her blonde locks looked exactly like Lina's did before, but it was her eyes, her sky blue eyes that sparked his curiosity even deeper. Lina's eyes were deep green, and so were Charles'. So how was it possible that their daughter had blue eyes? Couple gave him no time to vocal his doubts, as they were already moving away, Charles' hand still around her waist, other one holding the little one up.

As they reached Charles' car and after he strapped Emilia in her car seat, he turned to the still shaking Evangelina.

"You okay bebe?What did he want?"

''I...He asked about her. How old she is." Lina sighed. He pulled her closer, inhaling her scent.

''I won't let anyone harm you or her, bebe. I promise."

She sniffled, looking up at him.

"He can't ever found out Charles. I can't let him take her from me."

-''He won't bebe. I promise. No one is going to take our daughter away." He wiped her tears away, kissing her cheeks. ''Let's go love. We still have a lot to celebrate today.''

Tag list:

@samriddhisingh @janeh22

[aggieharkness]

Have I earned it, mother? Chp. 7

Pairing: Avis Amberg x reader

Summary: she had never realised how cold blood could feel, how raw her own hands could leave her skin, how your presence lingered in every corner of her house and in every inch of her body, but you weren't in the room with and yet your arms wrapped around her waist as if nothing had changed.

Warnings: blood, mention of torture/abuse, injuries/wounds, mention of guns, mention of character death, panic attack, nudity, medical equipment and mentions of surgeries. I promise that there's hints of fluff and pretty things as well.

Authors note: Like a zombie, slithering through the ground, I come to you all bearing gifts. Here you have the newest chapter, that has taken me far more time than I had anticipated. This is the last bit of big drama that I will write, so fluff, romance, and smut will be coming your way soon. No one worry because I will fuck Avis's brains out soon, I promise. I understand that this chapter might not be to everyone's liking but I still hope that you like it and as always, be gentle but tell me If I need to be more graphic, if I'm lacking in something. I am here for you, my dear people, I listen. I also accept ideas and suggestions that you might have. Also available on Ao3. Finally, let's thank Patti Lupone for giving us Avis Amberg.

Shoutout to @bravewithacapitalb for being my beta reader and for being there to help me when I got stuck and give me wonderful ideas. I love you and I will give you a barrel of olive oil some day. Also shoutout to @p2pecleanerwitheyes and @renyfisher for being wonderful human beings ❤️

Chp. 1 Chp. 2 Chp. 3 Chp.4 Chp.5 Chp.6

Word count: 30K (As an apology for taking so long)

Take a breath and open your eyes, my darling

Every sound was muffled, as if a pair of hands were covering her ears, her eyes moving from side to side in a sedated state when everyone around her seemed to be rushing around, up and down the hallway, doctors and nurses barking orders that echoed against the white walls. All the people around her were barely shapes, only clouds of colours that her eyes refused to focus on as the stretcher you laid on vanished through two heavy doors at the end of the foyer, leaving her standing over cold tiles. She couldn’t remember how or where her jacket was, a thin white blouse clinging to her body, the once pristine fabric now covered in splatters of blood and dirt, the imprint of your hand resting on her abdomen, the material having picked up every wrinkle of your skin, the shape of your fingers, every line that crossed your palm. She could even make out your fingerprints, the sight burning the skin beneath as much as the bitter tears that had formed in her eyes begged to fall and yet she refused. No one in that entire hospital mattered to Avis more than you, and when her trembling voice had asked the doctor if you would make it the gravely look on the older man’s face had been enough of a response, words never answering her question. That might be the last time she saw you, battered and bruised, hanging on to life by a ripping thread that she could not fix as they whisked you away. She hadn’t even got to say that she loved you.

Her entire body shook, adrenaline and fear holding her upright as grief and agony enfolded her completely, her chest rising and falling arrhythmically as she fought the sob that threatened to escape from her throat. She was perfectly aware that she was leaving dirty imprints on the clean floors, dust, sand and mud stuck to the soles of her heels as your blood dripped from her fingertips one drop at a time. She was mesmerized by the way it ran along her palm, slightly reddened by the butt pad of her shotgun, in slender rivers that followed the path of each crevasse on her hands, lingering in between her fingers before they branched out, coating her soft flesh and sinking deep on the imperfections of her skin. Only a few minutes ago the crimson liquid had burnt her skin as much as the muzzle of the weapon had caused blisters to form on the pads of her fingers, but they had been completely different sensations. She would have preferred to take a knife to the heart over and over again than to have your blood on her hands, the emotional, mental and physical pain almost too much for Avis. Standing in the hospital now it was as if instead of the molten lava that had scorched her, she was feeling the sharp edges of an icy river. Her eyes just could not steer away from the way the droplets formed around her scarlet nails and fell in slow motion, almost as if gravity both pulled them to the ground and repelled them until they crashed onto the tiles beneath her feet.

The sound was barely there, so quiet that no one should have been able to hear it, but it blasted inside Avis’s head like an explosion, a thousand bombs going off at the same time, rumbling inside the building like an earthquake that was making her tumble on her feet. She had taken a step forward, unsure of what to do with herself, and if it hadn’t been for a pair of slender and gentle hands that wrapped themselves around her arms she would have fallen down onto the hard ground, the skin of her bare knees scratched and bruised where it would have collided with the freezing tiles. Her own body was protesting against the weight that her legs had to support and the hands that aided her in standing upright, but she could not fight either of them, and as the heat of the person that was keeping her on her feet seeped through her blouse onto her skin she felt the freezing touch of your hands on her. It was as if Death had greeted her, it’s bony fingers clinging to your body as your lungs fought to draw breath, Avis’s hands never letting go of yours thinking that having her close could bring you comfort, her soft words, laced with anguish and the hint of tears that she refused to cry in front of you, begging you to not leave her. She still had the sound of your raggedy breaths engraved in her brain, carved in blood and fire so deeply that it left her lightheaded.

Guilt sliced through her like a dagger, a constant train of what-ifs running on a loop in her mind. If she hadn’t let you leave the night before none of this would have happened, if she had listened to what her heart was telling her instead of being so terrified of what her daughter or everyone else would think if they saw you enter her house and not leave until the early morning she would not be standing in a hospital praying and begging to any and every God that wanted to hear her to please save your life. If she had held onto you instead of watching you slip through her fingers like smoke no one would have got hurt and she wouldn’t have had to kill a man, something that she both regretted and knew was the only way out. She would not be crying venomous tears that clawed at her skin and ripped her cheeks to shreds for the only person who had loved her for her and who she had learned to love back, no fake smiles and expensive presents given to her to hide all those things she already knew were happening behind her back. Ace was barely a few floors away from her and the thought of seeing him hadn’t even crossed her mind, all her attention on you and the memory of your broken body, cold under her touch. How was she meant to give the image of the worried wife when the person she truly loved, the other half of her beating heart, was fighting for her life?

None of this should have ever happened, not for a film, not for the studio, they were only material things that could be replaced, restarted from scratch but the loss of a human life could never be fixed. She was well aware of such a fact, the sight of Lon gurgling and choking in his own blood flashing before her eyes for an instant, a shiver running down her spine in disgust, and as much as she regretted having been forced to reach such a point it was impossible for Avis to feel full remorse for her actions. They had taken you in the night, like the criminals they were, and had let Lon do whatever he pleased, Ace partially to be blamed for having granted him far too much freedom all these years, and for what? Among all the anguish that poisoned her blood, she felt rage, a fury that she had never felt before that rotted inside her and made her feel like the worst human being on the planet though there was no real reason for her to feel such a thing. But the guilt crawled through every pore and chanted in her mind that she was to be blamed because she had green-lighted Meg and she had accepted the position of head of the Studio when she could have easily handed it to Dick, maybe even to the board, and it was her, and only her choices, that had ended up with you barely alive in her arms. There was a hole in her chest so deep, so vast that she feared she might never recover, withering like a rose as winter drew in. If she lost you, your sparkling eyes closed forever, your angelic face still for all eternity with no smile to lift her spirits and make Avis’s heart leap in her chest, bruises and wounds she would never forget hidden under layers of makeup that showed only a glimpse of who you had been, she would lay beside your coffin and force Death to claim her because a life with you would be like a universe with no stars, forests without trees, her body without a heart and soul.

Her entire being felt as if it was caught in a hurricane, emotions drowning and confusing her in a whirlwind that swept her off her feet and left her floating in between rough winds that cut through her skin like sharp shards of glass, words written in your blood carved onto the weapons as they dug onto her body. Each word lingered like the last embers of a fire, and it felt as if they had been tattooed on her skin, blistering her flesh and consuming her in a constant wave of pain that she couldn’t escape. A rogue curl had fallen from her perfect updo, the ginger tones masking the specks of blood her hands had inadvertently left on her soft hair as it brushed her cheek, flyways twisting in frizzy ringlets on the back of her neck, where the warm breath of a person touched her skin. Hints of a floral perfume mixed with the metallic stench her body was immersed in, her brain slowly comprehending that Ellen was the one holding her up even if she was risking staining her blue suit with your blood. Nausea began to build as the smell became unbearable, Avis lulling her head back as her face turned pale, fighting with all her might to not vomit in front of everybody; she would never be able to face them. Not that she could find it in herself to turn around, afraid of what half a dozen pairs of eyes would see on her face and shaky frame, dishevelled and utterly miserable and broken, but worse of all was what she might see on theirs.

Would they pity her or be afraid of her? She could not blame them for choosing either of those options, after all, she was asking herself that same question, but if she were to turn around and face the answer when she was so down, when her heart had been ripped out of her chest and sliced until it laid in shreds on the cold tiles of the hospital hallway, she would not be able to recover. Ellen took a step to her left, dragging Avis along with her but the woman’s body sagged heavily on the other one’s slender arms, black heels scraping the tiles as the ginger tried to get her legs to work, weak and trembling as the adrenaline she had been running on began to fade leaving an amorphous mass of aching muscles and stinging scrapes behind, the small wounds she hadn’t even noticed before adorning her hands in a gruesome spectacle. She hadn’t even seen the skin that had been peeled on her index finger from where her flesh had gotten caught on the trigger of the shotgun. She was no longer paying attention to her surroundings, voices barely making their way to her ears as Ellen carried on pulling her towards the side, her oak eyes glued to her hands once more as if she was only now noticing what your nails and hers had done to her skin, hidden underneath the blood that was beginning to dry, coagulating and thickening around her wrists and on her palms, leaving a horribly disgusting sensation behind. 

With clumsy steps, Ellen managed to get Avis to the closest seats, black wooden chairs that were clearly too uncomfortable to sit on for long periods of time, but whether her friend noticed or not was of very little importance to her. As soon as the back of the redhead’s knees hit the cold seat her body crumpled down, legs completely unable to support her any longer. How could she feel everything so raw, so vividly and at the same time be so numb? It made no sense. There could never be enough words to describe the turmoil inside her, the pain, the shame, the regret, the anger… it was a mix of it all that ravaged her mind and slammed against her skin, destroying everything in its path and leaving nothing but rubble and dust behind. Every moment of her life had been the same, controlled, measured, even when she went down to the gas station, did she do it knowing how and where, but you had changed all that. For the first time in her life there was excitement, there was the thrill of sharing experiences with someone, not out of duty, but because you cared, there was a reason for her to wake up in the morning and get through the day, your smile shining around every corner, your eyes a constant in her mind, their life and eternal light getting her through the worst. You had given Avis her life back, her reason for existing, and now all she had was your blood clinging to her, suffocating her as the splatters turned into thin, sharp tendrils of crimson poison that wrapped around her neck, trapping her, slicing through her flesh.

She was falling apart, breaking piece by piece with each passing second, feeling how her own blood was seeping from in between the cracks like a waterfall, leaving her dry, barely alive even if in truth her body still drew breath and the droplets that stained her skirt and slid down her legs were not her own. Never before had Avis felt as if nothing but glass was coursing through her veins, the pain never-ending, escalating by the minute like a constant reminder that it was her fault, and she could not escape, chained forever by her actions to the freezing ground as water rose all around her, threatening to drown her. Ellen’s face was maybe a foot from hers, but her features were blurry, incoherent shapes that her eyes could not focus on, her mind too distraught and busy to pay attention to her, or perhaps she was frozen in time, stuck still in the car with your broken body in her arms, pushing clammy strands of hair from your face as if that would make the wheezing your lungs produced less gravely, as if your eyes would open and look at her once more as if nothing had happened. But it had, and her perfectly planned and controlled life had been smashed to the ground, dust clouding her mind, voices in her head screaming at the top of their lungs making her deaf, unable to hear anything but her own guilt. She wanted to run away from it all, to make it stop.

The night you came to her house for the first time with your old coat around your frame and a never-ending line of documents in your hands, she had thought you another of her husband’s conquests. A pretty young thing who wanted nothing but to become a star, after all, that was the only reason she had heard for more than twenty years why people move to Hollywood, but when you had told her that that was not your case, she had taken an instant interest in you. You were… unusual, to say the least, and you most certainly were worthy of her attention after what you had done with her, matching or even surpassing Jack and Ernie, but you had not left her after that. You had showered her with affection, your eagerness to please her endearing to her flirty nature, and as you shared more of your time with her, she became drunk in the way your eyes lingered on her body as if she was a diamond, completely enthralled and bewitched by the way you were making her fall in love without realising it. You had shifted her entire life into something worth fighting for, had made her trust her own decisions and stand firmly on both her feet, only to be caught in the crossfire in the end. You would be safe if she had stayed in her lane, if she had not taken charge like Ace had wanted her to, but as much as she wanted to blame him, he had not given the order to produce Meg, she had. To her she seemed as if she had been the one who had killed you with her own bare hands.

And it stung. Her skin, her muscles, her very own blood choked her with disgust and anger at herself, crawling through every inch of her flesh like a thousand cockroaches and spiders that wanted to eat her alive until nothing, but bones remained, but even then, she would not escape the guilt and the absolute grief that knocked her to the ground. She had shared things with you that she had never been able to tell Ellen, her best friend for more than a decade, your tender touch drying her tears, your rosy lips letting words of love and kindness drip onto Avis’s skin like a balm, healing her, picking up the pieces that life had left for you and building her again, gold and roses sealing each piece with each kiss. She could not bear the thought of never hearing your voice again, of not having you there to console her and tell her that everything would be alright, her secrets and her love laying beside you under soil and dirt as her tears soaked the ground under her, infertile lands that would never grow a single daisy, a single rose, vast plains of sand and rocks where not a drop of rain would ever fall. Void of life, matching the black hole inside her chest that fed on her despair, taking her light and her breath, with it, leaving her freezing on her chair, feeling the rivulets of your blood sliding down her flesh like snakes.

Would this be her life if you didn’t survive? A walking corpse, living half a life with the remorse that she could have prevented it all by keeping you in her arms, by leaving with you that night, by having pressed you more into staying. A thousand what-ifs ran rampant in her head, each making her feel worse than the one before, fuelling the fury and rage that hadn’t left her since she had seen the cross, only now anguish seemed to her guide and agony her path as a rain of daggers made pain a constant. The grip on the edge of the chair made her knuckles turn white under the dry and cracking layer of blood, following and seeping into every single crevasse and pore on both the palm and back of her hands, her vision unfocused. Ellen was fighting a lost battle, trying her best to gain her attention when Avis was in fact miles away from the hospital, lost in a hurricane that no one could save her from, slender fingers rubbing soothing circles on the ginger’s arms to no avail. The touch never registered inside Avis’s mind, lost in the ocean that separated her from reality, her body sitting on that dammed chair when her mind was still in that house, in the car, in every room of her house, and every room of yours, following the traces of your perfume as if she could find you and take you in her arms, clam her raging heart and tell herself that everything had been a nightmare. She had never wanted anything more in her life than to hear that you would come home with her, terror bubbling inside her as the thought of planning your funeral hit her like a building collapsing on top of her.

How on Earth would she do it if you didn’t make it? How would she choose your coffin, the flowers, the music… when all she would think about was the fact that her bed would forever remain empty, cold even if Ace woke up and returned home? You touch would linger on her skin, your ghost haunting her and the halls of her house with whispers and freezing clouds of future that had been take form you, Avis chasing you and your memory for all eternity as she lost herself to a madness that she never wanted to get over, because in that state of mind, losing all sense of reality, you would still be there. The tears that had gathered in her big, sorrowful eyes, broke through her will and fell in quick succession, burning her skin raw, leaving a bitter taste that mixed with the metallic stench that clung to her like a second skin. She had dreamt of a church filled with flowers, every corner breathing in lilacs and whites as she made you her wife, the love of her life walking down the aisle dressed in silks and lace of the purest pearly white, a dream that now could turn into the worst nightmare she had ever lived, the baby breaths and roses turning into lilies as her clothes bled into the deepest black the universe had ever seen, matching her rotting soul. She could not lose you and yet she could not stop thinking that no matter what happened today she would always remain your partner, your friend, and your wife until her heart stopped beating and her lungs expelled her last breath, and if life had deemed it right to claim your life, a fact she would forever resent, she would be your widow.

There were no clocks on the wall all throughout the hallway, but she still heard the incessant ticking of time that spoke of all the seconds lost into a past that could not be changed. Avis was finding it so hard to cling onto what little hope she had left inside her, the baby lights shining so dimly that the darkness that had built in her mind kept hiding them from her, its warmth at the tip of her fingertips, almost there for her to grasp only to be pushed away to the edges of the firmament. Why couldn’t she trade her life for yours? She would rather lay on a stretcher battered and bruised beyond recognition if you remained untouched, not a scratch on your beautiful body, your locks pristine and soft, your cheeks rosy and full of life, your perfect eyes glowing still as if they were not fighting to hold on to a ripping thread. Avis was freefalling down an abyss where there was no bottom, just an endless sight of darkness that took her away from you, or perhaps it was you who was being taken from her, but why would it matter, there was a rift building between you two that she couldn’t cross. She had never truly noticed until now how incredibly cold hospitals were, freezing in truth, tiles everywhere slamming shards of ice onto her skin, Ellen still trying desperately to get her attention. The blond could not remember a single day in her life when her friend had looked as lost and broken as today; the great Avis Amberg was crumbling in front of everyone and neither Avis herself nor Ellen knew what to do to prevent it, or if they should.

Sounds became bombs, and every breath, every footstep echoed inside her head as if she had an orchestra playing, every single instrument off-key and untuned playing a hellish aria that could make her head explode any moment. Everything irritated her, everyone unimportant to her right now, and suddenly all that she had been numb to only a few moments ago raked at her flesh, driving her insane, angering her exhausted frame to the point that without thought she pushed herself to a standing position. Ellen tumbled back, Dick quick to grab her so she wouldn’t end up on the floor, both pairs of eyes watching dumbfounded as Avis walked down the hall before pausing and retracing her steps. She was not herself, that was clear in the way her body sagged with each step, heels clashing and crushing against the tiles as her hands pulled on her clothes, nails piercing through her skin as the physical pain spread like wildfires all over, but it did nothing to quiet down her screaming mind. All she wanted to do was to make it stop, to sit in silence as she let sorrow consume her, but the world was too loud, too fast, too careless and cruel and its weight was killing her the same way it had done to you. Was this how love was supposed to feel when things were wrong? As if her heart was dying with you, like there was no tomorrow unless it was with you? If it was so, she had no desire to keep it, because she could not escape the pain, the memories that she held onto as if she was the one barely alive turning bitter with each breath she took, constricting her chest. If this was love, she would rather die than to be told you were gone. She could not bear a single second in this world if she could not go home with you.

Her entire body shook, trembling as if the entire planet was succumbing to an earthquake, tiles, chairs, and people fading in and out of Avis’s line of vision as she struggled to push air into her lungs. Everything around her was so bright, forcing her to close her eyes in an attempt to dim it somewhat, black spots dancing under her eyelids as she tumbled on her feet, hands flying in the air looking for something or someone to hold onto. They landed harshly over the freezing walls, contrasting with her almost feverish body, sagging and melting as her legs lost all strength, giving up under her. She was collapsing, exactly the same way her world was falling apart, every cell unable to breathe, lungs begging for an oxygen that Avis could not provide, the tears mixing with your blood as they fell over her ruined clothes scorching every inch of skin they touched as if they could leave blisters behind. Her knees bent, hitting the harsh material the walls were made out of as her ankles threatened to twist, her heels feeling like a thousand needles, her clothes like plaster that trapped her, unable to move. For an instant her eyes opened and focused on her hands, fingers leaving macabre paintings over the white tiles as her palms slid down, following her exhausted frame, traces of blood imprinted forever in between invisible cracks, Avis’s fingerprints fading before her eyes as the crimson streaks carried on forever. Her palms smeared your blood as if her flesh was completely covered on it, dripping thickly over her eyelids, falling off the tip of her nose, staining her lips and drowning her as if the only thing she could fill her lungs with was the hot metallic liquid that burnt her insides like lava.

She was on the verge of passing out, falling like rags on the ground, when two strong hands wrapped around her torso and pulled her up, pushing her off the wall as her eyes observed the work left behind, grotesque shapes of monstruous trails and partially imprinted palms staring back at her as the deep red liquid dripped towards the ground. Her feet never made contact with the floor. She was swept into someone’s warm arms, a whiff of pine and whiskey hitting her nostrils, but the smell did not make her nauseous as it mixed with the metallic stench, it was, in fact, a comforting aroma that she tried to hold onto with both hands, fingers curling around the fabric of a white shirt, colours that she could make out through the tears. This was exactly what she had been trying to avoid, to be seen as weak by the people who were supposed to rely on her, to see a leader, someone they could trust, but she was now only a shell of her flamboyant persona, a broken item that people would run away from. She was supposed to be Avis fucking Amberg, not whatever she had turned into, whatever this was! How could anyone look at her and expect her to lead them ever again when all they could see was a weak, crushed woman? They would never respect her again, she thought, they would never look at her the same, and that brought a sense of defeat that she hated with every fibre of her being. Gently Jack walked over to the seats, placing her back on the chair she had just vacated with Ellen hovering over his shoulder, pale as snow, slender fingers aching to comfort her friend, but Avis did not want to let go of the man’s shirt, or perhaps she couldn’t, locked in place. Every joint and muscle felt stiff, the adrenaline in her bloodstream vanishing like smoke, fading and leaving behind an utterly depleted and trembling body that fought with all its might to sustain Avis.

-Mrs. Amber, please, calm yourself down.

-Listen to the man, Avis. Breath.

Had Ellen always sounded so sharp, so high pitched that it grated her nerves while at the same time, it made her blood freeze in her veins? She wasn’t a cruel or rude woman by nature; Avis could not think of a single moment in the woman’s life when she had been nothing but gentle and caring, and yet her words were commanding, though in the ginger’s current state of mind, she had not picked up on the worrisome tone that had laced the blond’s words. Oxygen, she needed oxygen, no matter how much, just enough so that the ever-growing black spots would vanish, so the weight on her chest would stop crushing her lungs and ribs, but she could not seem to get her brain to respond. Her heart was pounding a thousand miles per minute, her ears ringing as blood pumped through her veins at such a speed that she was beginning to fear her entire body would explode, which made her shallow breaths ever more rapid and arrhythmic. Ellen kept trying to get through to Avis, but half of the words got lost in the rattling of noises and screams that echoed inside her head, and as her skin turned paler, a gruesome contrast with the splatters of blood, Jack took matters into his own hands.

-Ms. Kincaid, bring me ice, as much as you can.

-Ice? Why?

-Yes, just trust me, please. Hurry or she’s going to pass out. – she had not a single inkling why he would ask for such a thing, but she gave him the benefit of the doubt and rushed down the hallway and out through the white swinging doors, the sound of rubber scratching on the ground along with the screeching of the hinges floating in the air like invisible dust that gathered around the congregation, adorning and accompanying the whispers that fell from thin cracked lips.

-At least we are in a hospital if push comes to shove.

-Henry! What the fuck is wrong with you?!

Through the corner of her eye, Dick’s form moved as the blurry shape of a dark suit that stood a few inches shorter than the brown one next to him, and even though her puffy brown eyes could not see it, he was fulminating the younger man with a look that clearly meant for him to shut his mouth. He really did not know how to read a room Dick thought angrily, and so in an attempt to calm things down, Henry raised his hands in surrender and turned away, returning to his seat. Had Avis been her usual self she would have given him a run for his money, but alas she was still holding onto Jack’s shirt as if he was the only thing that was keeping her grounded, fighting to breathe as his hands ran up and down her arms. What must he think of me, she thought? A woman who had commanded him, who had stood on top as he pleased her and did everything she desired, a woman he owed his career to, to a certain extent, turned into what? She didn’t even know who she was, what she felt, what was left of her. But if only for a moment, just an instant, she could read his mind, see what he did, she would find that he didn’t see any of those flaws, the cracks she was so terrified of. She was so much more than just that façade she went around flaunting, she was a layered, complicated woman that not many had the pleasure to see in predicaments like this, and although what they had shared had been strictly business and had ended months ago, he did care for her. She had been through enough in her life, why did she keep getting knocked off her feet like this, the harsh cement scraping her hands and knees, making her bleed until she had the strength to get back up again only to end up back over the dirt, bruised? 

She didn’t deserve this. Jack had listened to her during that first encounter, the pain and the sadness that had laced every word in a way that she thought no one would pick up, breaking his heart little by little. How could he not when her eyes had been screaming for love, for anything, to anyone who would listen? Every moment spent with her had been filled with an aura of expensiveness and power he had not minded, a sense of respect, and to be honest, fear, running down his spine every single time, but beneath that tough exterior, an insecure, emotionally starved woman rested, a side of her he had only gotten a glimpse of on rare occasions and that now sat bare and open before them all. He had never thought anyone, or anything could crack Avis Amberg like this, but then again you were not an accessory in the woman’s life, you were everything to her, an extension of her being that anyone with eyes could see, two hearts beating in unison. Hearing Mr. Samuels speak hurriedly about what had happened to you had been a shock for the entire cast, and as Jack, Archie and Rock gathered their things to aid Avis he had stopped for an instant and wondered how she must have felt, how she was handling everything. Ace had never been particularly loving towards her, forcing a cold, tough layer of rejection to be cast over the hurt interior that had shaped Avis into the woman she was now, but you had shattered all that slowly with each kiss, every whisper and glimpse of affection you had thrown her way, melting the wax that had encapsulated her, freeing her at last like a butterfly that set flight for the very first time. Knowing that she could lose you at any moment had been just as rough back then as it was now, though kneeling before her trembling frame trying to prevent her from hyperventilating herself into a fainting spell, he began to think this aftermath was worse. He had not been ready for the sight that had welcomed him when Avis had returned from the half-demolished house, he had most certainly not been ready for what had been left behind in the hospital hallway.

Ringlets of ginger hair had swayed in the midday warm breeze, caressing the nape of her neck and her pale cheeks, all colour had drained from her face as the image of Lon gurgling and coking in his own blood played on a loop in her mind, as fresh as the splatters of the crimson liquid that had landed on her skin, like macabre freckles that painted her flesh, shards of bone having flown towards her legs shredding her stockings, small bleeding scrapes on her shins that his eyes picked up on briefly. The shotgun rested in a grip so hard her knuckles had turned white, Ellen running behind her completely out of breath but Jack’s gaze was not on the blond, blue eyes taking in the dishevelled and panicked look that shadowed Avis’s features as if the sun had vanished from the sky, the world eternally forced to live in perpetual darkness, no moonlight to show the way, no stars sprinkled in the navy canvas that spread above their heads. Jack was used to fear and terror, after all, he had fought in a war, but for some reason all that could not compare to the way fury mixed with horror in a way that made his skin crawl, Avis’s deep brown eyes reflecting every emotion as if her very soul was an open book. His hands had travelled down to her hips as his thoughts swirled deep in his mind, coming to rest gently over her knees after a moment, the touch of her cold skin and ruined stockings under his palms pulling him from his memories to stare at that same face that  shone with bitter tears, the crystal liquid turning pink as they picked up the red beads that had dried over her flesh. Neither of them could say if it was yours or Lons.

On his wrist a small golden watch ticked, the tiny black clock hands showing to everyone each second passed, the way a single second turned into a minute, then another, and as they accumulated in the air there was still no sign of Ellen, no footsteps to break the deafening silence that enfolded Avis’s rapid breaths. There was a constant rain of questions in her head that flooded the floor with no answers in sight to vanish them, making her feel as if she had lost complete control of her life, begging silently for a doctor or a nurse to come out and tell her what was going on, if you needed anything because she would give it to you, be it a better hospital, better staff, her own organs, her own blood, anything you required, but the hallway remained impassive to her suffering. She had been defeated, she thought, by her own hand to be exact, actions and consequences meeting in the same place at the same time at last. Jack’s hands remained on her, never ceasing the reassuring movements, not that they worked at this point, sobs fighting her physically to escape her throat as it gasped for air, the sounds making everyone around her watch in horror as she turned paler by the minute, veins visible under her translucent skin, but the boy would not give up so easily. With gentle hands his fingers travelled down her claves to her feet, and although the gesture might not look like much to others, he removed Avis’s shoes as tenderly as he could, placing her feet firmly against the freezing tiles.

The gasp that parted from her blueish lips was the first proper time her lungs had drawn breath in several minutes, the crisp, antiseptic air filling her chest in shock, but Jack knew more needed to be done. The ground would match her temperature soon enough and the shock would fade back to her panicking persona, but he could not leave her, not when her hands were still holding onto his shirt. He had to wait, much to his dismay, until Ellen returned. He would have to throw the garment away he thought, the fibres of the fabric ruined, soaking up your blood like a sponge, but he could afford to lose a shirt, there were millions of them on the planet, but no one in that entire hallway could afford to lose you. Next to him Dick and Henry talked in hushed words, the topic redundant to the task at hand, and yet Jack could not help wondering what was so important that had to be discussed right then and there when there were definitely more important things to take care of, but he was in no real position to interrupt them. The sound of a heel on the floor reached the young boy’s ears after a few instants, his head perking up to make sure he was not hallucinating, and just as he did that another one filled the space until the blond appeared through the swinging doors with a glass bowl in her hands, rushing back towards them. Her slender hands and bony fingers cradled the ice as if it was the most important object in the universe, as if those same hands had not touched Oscars, sculptures and paintings, not to mention pieces of jewellery that cost more than Jack’s own life. Nearly slipping on the ground as water dripped from the edges, Ellen kneeled on the floor next to him.

-What do I do with this?

-Help me pry her hands off my shirt and put them in the ice.

-But won’t it shock her… Oh! I get it now. You work on the left one, I’ll handle the right one.

 It wasn’t an easy task as Avis’s grip was iron like, hard and nearly unbreakable, but with enough determination the both of them worked on prying each finger off, the boy not caring much about ending up covered in blood, matching the stains on Ellen’s once pristine blue suit and Dick’s dark one, although you could not see them unless the sun hit him directly on the front. Avis fought against them at first, terror dripping from her eyes in between the sharp tears that seemed to never end, but her body was growing weak, and soon enough the warmth of the fabric changed to the heat of each their bodies as they finally worked her hands of his shirt, revealing imprints of scarlet red that would soon dry and remain there forever. Without a moment to lose Jack grabbed the ice and dunked Avis’s hand inside it, Ellen following suit, feeling the slicing cold on her skin, but her pain did not matter, blue eyes watching intently as her friend yelped and gasped once again, but this new shock to her system lasted longer, bringing with the sudden drop of temperature a physical pain that knocked her of her feet. It felt like a complete reset, as if her body had shut down for less than a second and then restarted again. Her tumultuous mind quiet for the first time in what seemed to be hours, breaking the cycle of self-deprecation and guilt she had fallen into, tears ceasing to fall at the unexpected touch of the ice on her sensitive skin, brushing painfully over her blisters and cuts, but neither Jack nor Ellen let her lift her hands. It somehow forced her brain to focus on only single thing instead of the millions of thoughts that had taken her mind hostage, registering one sense at a time, in this case, touch.

-Come on Mrs. Amberg, in in four and out in four. You can do it. – her gaze fell on his kind face, seeing him through the dark spots that had began to slowly fade in her eyes, hearing his deep calming voice as he counted. One, two, three, four. She took a deep breath and held it until the countdown began again. One, two, three, four. It was slow but sure work, and at last oxygen began to enter her system regularly, steadily filling her lung and every cell in her bloodstream, the dizziness she hadn’t even noticed before vanishing like smoke as a tender breeze swept through the hallway, taking with it every ailment she could possibly have and leaving behind only an exhausted body. With each inhale pine overwhelmed the bloody stench, whiffs of vanilla accompanying the fresh aroma as Ellen got closer to her. She had never thought of how sweet her friend’s perfume was, nor how manly but formal Jack smelled. Her mind could almost imagine your gentle berries lotion caressing her skin. – That’s the way to do it Mrs. Amberg. We can stay here as long as you need. In. One, two, three, four.

What sweet sound silence was, no screams, no madness that pulled her into a hurricane of insanities and grief, no voices grating at her nerves and playing with her emotions, kicking her while she was down, when she could not defend herself. It was heavenly to only have Jack in her head, not even herself as it was still stuck on the feeling of the terrible ice. It really was true what they said that one’s worst enemy was their own mind. Her panic melted of her body bit by bit like the wax of a candle, flames consuming them until nothing, but cold hard white rivers were left over metal candlesticks, specks landing on top of wooden tables that would never be removed. Parts of it still lingered under her skin, and would probably do so for the rest of her life, but with each silent tick of Jack’s watch her heartrate slowed down to a pace somewhat normal, the wheezing and sharp sounds of her lungs begging for help no longer in existence as they drew breath with relative ease, the boy’s voice fading into nothing as the attack passed. Chocolate irises could not bear to hold gaze with either pair of blue eyes, watching instead in disgusted fascination the way the ice melted under her palms, turning what once had been a most perfectly crystal clear water into a sea of pinks and deep shade reds that froze over the first thin layers of the mismatched cubes as blood clots fell to the bottom of the bowl, thin, translucent trails left behind, but this could never even begin to wash it off her skin. She feared it was all part of her now, forever stamped on her body. 

-Avis? – Ellen’s hand rested gently on the woman’s forearm, making her stare at the wet but warm fingers of her friend. She had never noticed the many wrinkles that decorated the pale skin, how short her nails were nor the way not a single spot blemished the back of her hand. They were small details that made Ellen so inherently herself but that for some reason the ginger had never seen before. – Avis, look at me. Please. – as much as she wished to run away from the surely pitiful glares she was going to encounter, she lifted her head, not ready to see the disappointment in everyone’s faces but at the same time unable to deny her friend her request when she voiced it with such a pained tone. As brown locked with blue she did not find a single trace of all those feelings that had been clawing at her, only worry. – Are you alright?

-I… Yes.

-You had us all so worried there for a moment. I was sure we would have to call for a doctor or a nurse. Are you certain you are fine?

-I am, Ellen. As fine as I can be under these circumstances.

-It’s not the answer I wanted but it will have to do. Take your hands out of the ice before you lose a finger. – Jack remained silent as Avis removed her hands, drying them on a handkerchief Dick was gallant enough to hand her, the soft touch of white linen on her wounds gentle and tender, even if the ice had numbed the pain a little bit. From the corner of her eye she observed the young boy, his hands inches from her bare feet, his countenance reserved, almost as if he feared she would yell at him at any given moment. Was he still terrified of her after what he had witnessed? Her hands trembled slightly as she grabbed his chin and forced their eyes to meet, but the gesture wasn’t harsh, her body could not manage harsh right now, and in those deep blue irises of his she found distress.

-Jack… Thank you.

-I… Of course, Mrs. Amberg.

-What is it?

-I don’t think I understand the question.

-Why are you looking at me as if you had just been through Hell? Did I say something or do something to you?

-No, not at all. It’s just… Well, I have come to think of you as some sort of friend and…

-And what? – How did she do it? Moved from nearly collapsing in his arms to looking at him with anything but kindness as if he was the one who had just been through the most traumatic thing in the universe and not her. Her hand caressed his cheek before it fell back on her lap, Ellen having removed the bowl from her friend’s thighs and leaving it on the floor to the side.

-You scared me. I had never seen something like this, not since the war and it was horrible to be face to face with the fear and the panic all over again, only that it was a thousand times worse because it was happening to you. You don’t deserve this Mrs. Amberg, no one does, but you, out of everyone I’ve ever known, are the one who deserves it the least. You should have never been forced to feel such horrors.

-Oh, Jack. 

-I mean it. You are my friend, at least I think of you as one, and someone as wonderful as you should never have to live through things like this.

-Life is not fair, my boy. The worst of people could live forever not facing a single consequence for their actions, while kind people, like you, have to face hardship after hardship. I’m hardly a saint, Jack.

-But you are no monster either. It is of no concern to me what you might have done in your life, but I am sure that it is not as bad as what has been done to you. You are finally happy; life can’t be so cruel as to rob you of that.

If only things worked like that, she thought. If only life could wait and let the world fix their mistakes before they sentenced them to pay for their crimes, but alas it kept on turning, waiting for no one, pausing for nothing, time running away from everyone’s hands as the hourglass turned only once, swirls of sand falling until the very last drop flew through the air. He was still so young with so many things to learn, and Avis felt so old, the decades she had lived falling heavily on her shoulders. There were so many things she wanted to say to him but all of them felt discouraging, heartless at most, and she did not wish to dim that beautiful light the boy possessed, a light that only yours could outshine. He had lit her up in every encounter they had shared but it could simply not be compared to the way you had uplifted her, put her in a pedestal and worshipped her as if she was the most precious work of art, dressing her in gold and placing roses at her feet, your essence, your light, forever casting a most perfect halo over her skin and underneath it. A shine that comforted and gave her the strength to carry on every day of her life since the moment she met you. You were younger than Jack and somehow you carried the wisdom of a thousand lifetimes that lingered in the way you walked, on the taps of your fingertips over wood, in each look and every word that fell from your lips, sweet as candy and soothing as honey.  

What wouldn’t she give to be staring at you right now and not at him, your baby blue dress draping around your bent knees like waterfalls, the gentle touch of your fingers barely making contact with her ankles instead of Jack’s calloused hands? Silence filled the foyer like an invisible gas that had rendered everyone mute. Suddenly heavy doors screeched, hinges screaming as they were pushed open making heads turn as fast as muscles would allow, a sharp pain running down Ellen’s neck at the motion, but she did not complain. A man in a white coat stepped into the hallway, years of medical practice engraved on his mature face as the heaviness of loss and work weighted him down, curving his spine as he made his way to the congregation. This was it, Avis thought, the moment everyone had been desperately waiting for. Her entire life was about to change, either for good or bad, and in both cases it made anxiety rise in her chest once more, completely unready for the grief that might slip from his thin lips, a nervousness that she could not control. But there was no need for her to do so, not when Jack, Ellen, Dick and the rest of them were there for her, would be there for her no matter what, and as the man’s steps got closer, the two of them held onto her injured hands with a caring and comforting touch. Her breath caught on her throat as soon as the man’s polished black shoes paused a couple of feet from them.

-Mrs. Amberg.

-Doctor Friedman. How… how’s Y/N?

-She’s stable for now. She did come in an awful state, I won’t lie, and she will need time to recover from the extensive injuries, but for now the surgery we performed to handle the internal bleeding was successful.

-So, she will recover? She’ll survive?

-You brought her in with several bruised and even broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder that we were able to handle before he took her to theatre, a punctured lung and bleeding spleen, along with many other minor injuries that the nurses are handling now. She was very very lucky, Mrs, Amberg. I can’t say that she will have the same life she did before, but she should get better, yes. -never before had she heard sweeter words. Angels were singing in her head as she released the breath she had been holding, the weight that had been crushing her for hours finally freeing her from its destructive grip. Relief was coursing through her veins as the doctor’s statement sank deeply inside her brain. You would be alright. Everything would be fine. And yet the man’s voice spoke in a gravely tone, his features darkened by the seriousness of the situation, putting a damper on Avis’s happiness for a moment. – I must warn you that her recovery will be slow. She is to be confined to a bed for at least a month, until I’m sure that her ribs have healed enough for her to stand without pain and once her legs are able to support her.

-What’s wrong with her legs?

-Her right ankle is broken, and she has a crack on her left femur, probably caused by a blunt object hitting her. I don’t know what happened to her and I don’t want to know, but it’s a miracle I’m not treating her for dozens of broken bones. She really is a fighter.

-For how long will she have to stay in the hospital?

-I cannot give you a specific amount of time, I’m afraid. It all depends on whether her lab work comes back within acceptable ranges and if there is no risk of her suffering any more harm once her body has begun to recover. We shall cross that bridge when we to it, if that’s acceptable to you Mrs. Amberg?

-Of course. Anything to make sure Y/N heals without issue. Could I… could I see her?

-I would usually say no as she is still in a very precarious situation, but I can give you a minute or two with her. She’s still under the effects of the anaesthetic and we did have to put her on a ventilator to reduce the stress on her respiratory system, so I’m giving you a heads up that the sight might be quite distressing, but it is only temporary. Can you handle that?

It crossed her mind to mention Ace’s state, just for an instant, how she had grown used to the sight of him surrounded by tubes that breathed for him, but her better judgment prevented those words from ever slipping out of her mouth. Without a second thought though she nodded her head, extracting her hands from Jack and Ellen’s tender grip, lifting herself off the chair and taking one single step towards the doctor. Jack’s hand on her knee stopped her just as her still trembling body had been about to take a second one, turning her head towards the kneeling boy to see him holding her shoes in his other hand. A sigh escaped from her red lips, the carmine slightly smudged on the corners of her mouth as she let him put them on. When Avis had been little, her mouther used to tell her stories before she had gone to sleep, tales from the old continent that she still remembered to this day, stories that she had read to Claire when she had been a child, before everything had turned to shit in her life. This very moment reminded her of one of those charming fairytales, but reality could never be as beautiful as the scenes in that worn-out book. Jack was not her prince charming putting on a glass slipper on her dainty foot, she was hardly a princess or even one of those ladies that wore tiaras and danced in room decorated with brocades and gold, and there would be no castle at the other side of the heavy doors. Avis’s princess charming was currently somewhere in this hospital asleep, waiting for her love to come and see her even though there would be no kiss that could heal you from the horrors that had transpired that day.

Her heels echoed against the tiles as she followed the doctor silently down the hall, feeling everyone’s eyes glued to the back of her head, but she never turned. She needed to see you, she needed to make sure that the words spoken to her were real and not just flimsy things that could easily be forgotten, taken by freezing drafts of cruel wind, and if she turned, even if it was for a single moment, and locked eyes with Ellen or Dick, her resolve would crumble. They would question her with one glance, and then she would begin to doubt herself, wondering if she really wanted to expose herself to whatever was awaiting her in your room, if she really had the stomach to see you in the same state her husband was in. They wouldn’t understand the visceral need to know that she had not lost you, that she wouldn’t have to fear a phone call in the middle of the night from some nurse or other telling her in rehearsed sadness you were gone. She was beyond grateful and happy that you were alive, of course, and she highly doubted anything could ever show and express the depth of her feelings of relief and utter delight, borderline delirious, that Lon had not taken you from her, that despite every hardship, you had fought and won, but there was still that tiny little voice telling her, asking her if it was real or just a panic induced hallucinations. She would have believed the later if Dick’s handkerchief hadn’t remained in between her fingers, the once perfectly manicured nails tracing the embroidery on the edges of the linen as the doctor held the door open for her.

In the course of barely twelve hours, she had gone through every emotion known to humankind, from lust and love to terror and anger, but this new fear that was taking hold of her felt completely different from anything she had ever felt before. Your body would heal, with time, but would your mind ever truly recover from something as horrible as this? Every time she blinked Avis could see the shape of your battered body on the filthy ground of that house, blood everywhere, your once perfectly alabaster skin now black and blue, not an inch of you safe from Lon’s wrath. But that had been but an instant, even during the ride to the hospital her eyes had remained on your face, never glancing down your body otherwise she would have broken down in front of you and she could not afford for such a thing to happen; you had needed her. But now you were somewhere safe, and she could not help but wonder what you would think of her when you woke up and told she told you about everything. She had killed a man for you, would you think her a monster? Was she truly ready for this? Her steps halted in the middle of the floor, the doctor not noticing her absence until he was around six feet from her, turning on the heels on his feet to look at her, eyebrows raised in a questioning manner.

-Mrs. Amberg? – those deep raspy tones that Dr. Friedman carried in his voice floated up to her ears, but they sounded to her like nails raking on a board, the undertone of his question lost before it could even be processed by Avis’s brain. Why couldn’t she just stop feeling so intensely? Why couldn’t her body just turn it all down for once and let her get on with the task ahead instead of making her feel like a scared child all over again?! For the first time in decades, she wished she could hold onto her mother’s hand.

-Come on, Avis. We’ll go in together.

In the back of her mind, she could trick her brain into believing that the perfume her nostrils picked up on wasn’t Ellen’s vanilla one but the floral she had missed for over twenty years now. No matter how old she got, how many years she cradled in the wrinkles that adorned her skin, she would always wish for her mother to be there with her, guiding her, telling her that everything would be alright, that she was strong enough to go and see you, to carry what you could not the same way you had been doing for her since the cold December night. Ellen’s touch on her forearms almost felt the same as hers, kind, loving, never rushed and never harsh, simply a statement that she was there for her. Turning her head towards the blond she saw a tender smile on her thin, rosy lips, and as if time had stopped to let Avis catch her breath, it began to tick once more as both women stepped forward in unison. Perhaps she had not given her friends enough credit, she thought, far too used to all those fake people that didn’t give a single fuck about her and her feelings, always believing that no one understood her, that she was everyone’s last resort when it came to things that didn’t involve money or connections. She was never even flirted with unless she started it, which always left her devasted by the time she got home. But Ellen was always there, listening to her, walking beside her down a hospital hallway just because she knew she would need a bit of push instead of telling her what a bad idea this whole thing was.

She made a mental note that she would make more of an effort from now on to show her just how important she was and how much she loved her. After all the poor woman had seen and helped her when she was at her lowest, when she had drunk herself to sleep after arguments with Ace, when she had had difficulties with Claire… The list was endless, and she could hardly recall a single time when she had said thank you to the woman for being there; she most certainly would fix that. In a small gesture of appreciation Avis moved her left hand until it came to rest on top of Ellen’s, the warmth of the blond’s skin mixing with her own bringing a sense of comfort that was very much needed, resumed their walk after a moment. The doctor guided them all the way to the end of the hallway and through a narrow corridor on the left, stopping in front of a dark wooden door that was marked with the number 217 in metal, each symbol hammered by thick nails onto the heavy planks. Her free hand shook as she pushed it open, the sound of several machines reaching her ears as both ladies stepped into the dimly lit room. It was exactly like Ace’s she noticed, with the same boring white walls and fluorescent light bulbs that flickered every once in a while, a single small window opposite the door covered in what only could be described as the grimmest grey curtains in existence, the smell of antiseptic and blood heavy in the air.

The sight was indeed anything but grotesque, crude, simply utterly heartbreaking. Your gentle frame lay underneath white bedsheets and a grey thick blanket; your skeletal body dressed in a gown that did nothing to hide the thousands of bruises that painted your skin. Dried blood remained stuck to your golden locks, turning them dark over the pillow, a mosaic of gruesome shades that made nausea rise in Avis’s throat for a moment, the acidic taste of vomit gracing the back of her tongue. You look so small, so tiny and broken in that big bed, wires and tubes circling your body in every angle and direction possible, dark glass bottles of blood and medication handing from drips, injected into your veins through yellowish tubes and wrapped around your arms and hands to prevent them from slipping, though you showed no signs of being on the verge of waking up any time soon. There were still red tinges on the parts of your skin that were not covered in bandages or plaster, the hues of death that refused to leave you just yet, on your temple, on the tips of your fingertips, around your cracked lips that were parted by a big white tube. She was quite familiar with that machine, watching with unshed tears the way the spring moved up and down with each monitored breath, the mechanical sound in no way a stranger in her life by now. And yet it somehow echoed differently in her mind, like a million screams that all matched your voice.

She had barely noticed how she had wayed on the spot, Ellen’s grip slightly stronger on her arms as to support her, Avis’s hands now dangling from her sides like rope, her entire body like a rag doll that remained on its feet because someone else was propping her upright. Your chest rose and fell artificially, and even though the doctor had been quite clear that it was to avoid any more stress on your weak state, she could not help but wonder if it had been a lie to hide the fact that it might be keeping you alive. Would you remain forever asleep, deep in a world so far away from Avis’s that all she would ever see of you again would be this, your deteriorating body as the days passed? Every minute spent with you had been like a blessed rainfall, washing her body of all pains and miseries, granting her fresh water to drink from your hands, an angel with no wings. She desired to see you barefoot over the grass, the sun bathing your alabaster skin with a perfect golden glow, locks of hair flowing freely in the wind as dandelions floated lazily around you, perhaps a butterfly or two landing on your fingers as bees buzzed in between flowers at your feet. Every waking moment was spent imagining you without a worry in the world, in the Garden of Eden dressed in nothing but your innocence and your golden virtue, waiting for Avis to fall into your arms in nothing but her wild locks of fire, laying down next to you in a bed of white poppies that cushioned you both from the hard ground.

She wanted you in ways that she could not understand, needed you so deeply that it made her entire body ache when she was away from you, her treacherous heart begging for you to be returned to her arms. Every instant without you made her soul yearn for you in ways that could make new sins appear on black ink on parchments at the Vatican, your name written in perfect golden calligraphy as hers followed suit in a deep red, like your humble apostle. She would set the world on fire for you, to see you open your eyes and find even a glimpse of love and recognition behind them, to feel your hands squeezing hers under all that medical equipment, to hear your raspy voice saying her name, and as she took one step towards you, Ellen never letting go just in case, she felt her chest constrict in a painful wave of grief. Yes, you were alive, but you were at the same time so far away from her, within her reach and yet her fingertips never seemed to be able to touch you, an invisible sea between you. Her brown eyes raked over your frame, but they always returned to your face, cuts and bruises decorating your pale skin in a macabre painting done by a madman, strokes deliberate, calculated over your once rosy cheekbones, splitting your lips and eyebrows as if he had been breaking a brand-new canvas, slicing your flesh so he could paint the walls of your enclosure with your blood, a hellish forest of splashes and puddles of burgundy and scarlet red dripping down the concrete, deaf to your pleas and screams. Stitches closed them up now shining under the flickering lights preventing your veins and capillaries from letting a single drop of your essence fall down your skin onto the bedsheets.

Ellen’s right hand held onto hers, and with curious brown eyes Avis watched as her friend lifted them and brought them to the edge of the bed. She made no attempt to touch you, leaving that part for the ginger to do when she was ready, but she remained a constant by her side, a supporting member of a team that played one of the most important roles; to simply be there. Avis hadn’t noticed how harsh the bedsheets seemed to be under her palm, rough, too starchy for her liking, and perhaps even a little worn-out, a feeling that she was incredibly displeased with and that she would make sure the nurses changed as soon as possible. You needed to be comfortable, and this was most certainly not up to standards. She was going to pay good money to this hospital once you were released, she expected you to be dressed in linens and cottons soft enough that they could never leave a rash on a baby’s skin, clean enough that Avis herself could eat on them and not worry about a single speck of dirt tainting her coffee, every single thing used on you of such quality that it could be used on the Royal Family without a doubt. It was understandable that since everything had been so rushed they had had to use the first thing their hands had grabbed, but that didn’t mean your entire stay would be like this, not while she was alive and next to you. The doctor cleared his throat behind them, making Ellen’s head turn to look at him to see him pointing at his wristwatch, a sign that the few minutes he had granted them were coming to an end.

-Avis, we’ll need to leave soon.

-Just one more minute. Just one. Please.

Dr. Friedman was not a cruel or heartless man, and as much as he knew he should follow every protocol in the book, he understood that whatever had transpired that morning must have been a most traumatic event and therefore the women in front of him needed the reassurance that his words were real. One more minute wouldn’t be the end of the world. He nodded his head silently, retreating back to the shadows by the door and letting Ellen whisper the good news to her friend who visibly relaxed her shoulders as she took a step closer to you, her ruined skirt barely a few inches from the mattress. With skin pale as milk, she could almost trace the outlines of your blueish veins up your arms through the many bandages that protected them, down your neck towards your hidden chest and over your eyelids. Everywhere she looked there they were, like spiderwebs of a tone between indigo and periwinkle that spread underneath your skin in different lengths and sizes, and if she narrowed her eyes just enough, she could almost make out what little blood you had left on your system coursing through them, your weak heart pumping in a steady rhythm. She only had a few more seconds left with you, this brief moment in which no words were exchanged, not even a glance except for Avis’s eyes roaming over your body, coming to an end far too soon and far too quickly for her liking, her hand inching closer and closer to yours as quickly as the speed of light and slowly as if she was traveling back in time.

Like lighting striking down her body Avis’s fingers finally made contact with your skin, a quiet gasp nearly falling from her lips as heat seeped from your body to hers. One single tear rolled down her cheek, eyes closing as she let the sensation wash over her, relief blooming fully in her chest like a garden in Spring, white roses climbing up the walls of her heart, daisies growing in her veins as her feet walked on the fluffiest of clouds or the softest of grass. She highly doubted she would ever forget the feeling of your freezing skin under her fingertips, like sharp shards of ice that had cut her flesh so deep scars would forever be imprinted on her skin, marks that no one but herself would ever feel, but as your still smooth flesh seeped a gentle warm glow onto her body, raining life back into a heart that grieved your absence and your memories, she was sure she could find it in herself to push every horror as deep into the back of her mind as it was possible. For the first time since you had kissed her tenderly last night, she could feel you again, alive against all odds. Euphoria could be a better way to describe what she was feeling, an unbridled joy even if she could make out all the tiny cuts and stitches that held your skin together, her fingers leaving reddish translucent trails of your own blood behind that the bowl of ice and water had not been able to remove, as she caressed the back of your hand, eyes watching the way your eyelids twitched almost as if you could wake up any moment, but she knew better.

-I’m sorry, Mrs. Amberg, but I can’t let you stay any longer. I suggest you go home and rest, perhaps have a bite to eat and come back this evening. The anaesthetic will have worn off by then, and it will only be a matter of time until she wakes.

-She will wake up, won’t she? – she refused to meet his eyes, afraid that the truth might be reflected in his greyish irises even if his mouth delivered what he might think were harmless lies.

-Yes. It might be later today or in a couple of days, whenever her body has recovered enough from the trauma and the surgery to regain consciousness. – so soon? What if she wasn’t there when you woke up and you thought you were all alone? She couldn’t possibly leave you now. Noticing how Avis hadn’t moved, not even attempted to step back from you, the man approached both ladies, and in a slow gesture he placed a bony hand on her shoulder in a way that could only be described as comforting. His voice carried a tone of patience and understanding that she wasn’t used to, each word delivered with such certainty it made her feel like there could be no other truth than his. - Mrs. Amberg, trust me when I say that she will be alright. I will keep an eye on her personally until you return, but that has to be in a few hours, alright? You need to rest as much as her.

Trust didn’t come easy for Avis, so used to being used by people as if she didn’t have feelings, just a means to gain something, but this man made it irrefutable for her to not do so. He didn’t gain anything by lying to her, she thought, looking at his older face over her shoulder, observing the veil of age and wisdom displayed in his eyes, a partially hidden smile gently gracing his lips behind a peppery moustache. He wanted you to live and go home as much as she did. A sigh made its way out of her throat, her fingers lingering on your hand for one more instant before they released you, leaving an empty spot that even in your unconscious state you somehow felt, knowing deep inside your mind that she was there, almost smelling her perfect perfume through the antiseptic and the blood. Not wishing to part ways like this, making it all seem so cold and distant Avis approached your head, pushing stained locks from your forehead before bending over the bed, balancing herself on the tips of her toes as her lips touched the soft skin she had just exposed.

 Her heart leaped in her chest the moment your warmth met her mouth, almost making her cry in relief as if she was coming to terms with how alive you were all over again,  but she could not prolong her stay any more than she already had and let her brain get lost in those wonderful thoughts, so as she placed her bodyweight back on her heels she observed through a wet chuckle the imprint of her red carmine on your smooth flesh. No one said anything about wiping it as Avis stepped back, her fingertips brushing the fabric of your gown before her arms came to rest at her sides, not that they were thinking about doing it in the first place, simply followed her silently towards the doors, Avis fighting to not look back just like Orpheus had done with Eurydice, afraid that whatever agreement she had signed with her silent prayers would be broken the instant her eyes landed back on your bed and she had to watch frozen on her spot as you were taken from her. Standing once again in the hallway the doctor was quick to excuse himself as he had other patients to check on. Ellen took the lead and pulled Avis away from your room and back to where everyone was still waiting, nurses smiling sweetly at them even though their eyes were blown wide at the state of both ladies. It made Avis hug herself, conscious that she looked nothing like she usually did with her curls bouncing out of the hairdo, frizzy and sticking out in some places, not to mention her ruined clothes; she felt nothing like her usual self. Ellen pushed the doors, holding them until her friend had walked through, letting them screech as they closed. Dick was the first to reach them, meeting in the middle of the foyer.

-Is she okay? How did she look?

-She’s… fine. Still sedated but the doctor says that she might wake up soon. He told Avis that it was best for her to return this afternoon.

-That’s good. Great news. Do you want me to drive you home Avis? – he placed a hand on her shoulder, a tactic she was beginning to hate. She wished for everyone to simply stop touching her, to let her handle all this however she saw if and at her own pace, but she partially understood that they didn’t have any other way of making her feel and see that they were on her side. The specks of anger that had built in her chest popped like tiny bubbles just as quickly, the angry words she was about to deliver to poor Dick getting lost among her aching muscles.

-No. I think I’d rather have Ellen do it. Besides, you have other matters to attend to.

-The film can wait for one day, Avis. We’ll pick it up tomorrow, don’t worry, I will personally cover the loses.

-I’m not talking about the film. Something must be done about Lon’s body. – the elephant in the room had the spotlight at last. None of the men had had the courage to bring it up even though they knew perfectly well what had transpired in that house, after all, shots could only mean one thing. Henry had flatly refused to even bring it up, saying, as both ladies left to see you, that he already had done his job and wasn’t going to get his hands dirtier than they already were, a cowardly move, Dick thought. The other three boys were simply too terrified of how Avis would react if they did that, that they had mumbled words under their breaths that sounded like excuses to the man, leaving only him to face the hangman at the end of the day. He couldn’t have been more grateful to Avis for bringing it up herself. - We can’t leave him there or it might draw some unwanted attention to us. Could you handle that, Dick? I don’t think I can, not right now.

-Of course, don’t worry. I’m sure that Mr. Psychosis over there knows of someone who can help. We’ll figure something out.

-Thank you. Just a heads up: it’s not a pretty sight what I left behind.

-I suspected as much. I’ll warn the boys. You head on home.

-Phone me if there are any problems, okay?

-I most certainly won’t. Go on, I’ll take it from here. – the first hints of a genuine smile broke through her serious semblance, picking at the corners of her mouth even if it was for a moment. She took the chance to squeeze his hand affectionately as a thank you before both ladies began their journey down the hall and to the parking lot. - Drive safely Ellen!

What had she done to deserve such wonderful friends? He was going out of his way to do something for her that she was extremely aware was dangerous, a criminal act that he was willing to cover up to protect her, and to a certain extent, you. No one would have ever even thought of doing that except for Ellen, maybe even Jack if you pushed him enough, but Dick would jump into action if he knew Avis could not. The boys waved them goodbye as they passed them by, Ellen mouthing a silent thank you to Jack for the ice trick from before, holding onto the ginger’s arm as they pushed the door open. Slowly, inch by inch, everything was sinking into her mind, every moment she had lived, every word she had heard replaying like a scratched record, the world around her not as blurry or as muffled as it has been when she had entered the hospital but still not quite as real as what was in front of her face, as if everything three feet from her didn’t exist. Every memory mixed as if they weren’t sure where they were supposed to go, like a puzzle that she could not finish even though she had all the pieces because the table kept on being moved, spilling them onto the ground over and over, her body aching even more each time she had to bend to pick them up. The sight of your body under all that equipment overlapped the image of Lon on the hard ground, you alive and him spewing the last few breaths the bullet she had embedded in his chest would allow.

She had barely registered the journey to the car, not noticing the hot rays of sunlight that hit her skin as if she was walking under a desert, nor the sound of her heels or Ellen’s on the asphalt as they approached the black Cadillac. Her purse was gone, she realised, looking from side to side in a panicked state as if it could magically appear out of thin air, not knowing where it was or if she had lost it in the turmoil of activities that had led them to this place, eyes flickering before she saw the blond pulling the car keys from a pocket in her jacket, unlocking the vehicle. It was right there, on the passenger seat along with the revolver she had handed to her friend. It was dangerous to leave both items for everyone to see, but at the same time she highly doubted anyone would have tried to steal them, bloody handprints almost engraved on the back of her front leather seats, perhaps from different hands, or where they hers? She seemed to recall a moment in which she had turned to beg Dick to drive faster, but she could not fully remember if she had rested both of her hands over the leather, maybe her friends had accidentally left them when they had manoeuvred you onto the back seats. Her eyes glanced then to where you had laid what seemed to be seconds ago, dirt and blood everywhere she looked, not inch unstained, the cabin filled with a horrible metallic stench that only seemed to get worse as sunlight broke through the windows, heating the air inside. 

Nausea hit her like a train going at full speed, forcing her to step away from the car as the vile taste of vomit returned, stinging and burning the back of her mouth as tears gathered on the corners of her eyes. Under other circumstances she would have considered walking back home, safely cooked up in her mansion in under twenty minutes, but people were already eyeing her a mix of worry and fear that she didn’t want to face out in the streets, rot to have the police stop her and start asking questions about a business they did not have to know about. She would have to endure the smell, she thought, turning back to the car to see Ellen fighting the foul stench herself, turning windows down so that the breeze would help dissipate it as much as possible. Through the open door that Ellen was working on, cranking the window lever, Avis saw the dark outline of your body marked on the seats, puddles of still wet blood dripping down onto the car mats one by one, perfectly formed tear-shaped beads travelling through the curves on the leather, imprinting the maroon shades onto the stitches. They were ruined, completely and utterly unsalvageable, she thought, not even an inch safe from some sort of splatter or smear of the crimson liquid, but it would be no issue to get someone to replace them, not leaving behind a single trace of the horrible experience. Hell, she could get herself an entire new car if she desired it, but her brain was exhausted and could not make decisions of that sort at this moment in time, the only thing clear enough for her to acknowledge being her wish for Ellen to take her home, away from everyone and everything.

A couple of minutes later the blond turned the engine on as Avis settled herself on the passenger seat and exited the hospital’s parking lot. The smell was still there, forever clinging to every surface, but the wind that had picked up around the car as Ellen pressed the accelerator, snatched most of it and pushed it out of the cabin with brute force. An eery feeling crept up her spine, eyes moving almost of their own accord to the back only for Avis to be forced to look through the windshield, a battle between her better judgment and that side of her that could not move on from what had happened. It almost felt as if invisible hands were hovering over her throat ready to strangle her with a mix of guilt and regret, pushing the happiness that you would survive to the side as if it meant nothing, demons that she had not faced in what seemed an entire lifetime taunting her. The woman behind the wheel was a completely different story. Shock prevented her from feeling anything but worry, as if nothing else existed in the entire universe, her perfectly normal life shattered into an amorphous shape that she had no idea how to understand and handle, feeling as if she could not fully comprehend just how deep you and Avis were connected, and therefore how bad this entire situation truly was. It left her bewildered to say the least, but she would never have to live with the thought that she had killed a man, unlike the woman next to her. Both ladies were lost in their own little crumbling worlds by the time the doors of the Amberg residence became visible.

No old man was there to greet them as they drove past the wide-open metallic gates, just as they had left them when they had come to pick up the weapons. When had that been? Avis wasn’t wearing a watch, and she could not recall what time Jack’s had shown while they were at the hospital. Over the leather, the revolver slid from side to side in between them as Ellen parked the car on the side, the gun hitting her thigh as everything came to a halt, eyes glued to it as if it had been the first time she saw it, the shotgun she had cradled not that long ago lost in the ginger’s mind, just as much as her jacket. They could be lying on top of twigs and grass in the forest, or maybe they were somewhere in that sterile place you were trapped in, her brain didn’t seem to even be trying to remember. They were, in fact, on the mats right behind her, soaking up blood by the minute, hidden under a dark mist of death that followed her everywhere she went, a reminder, a constant danger that made the hairs on the back of her head rise. Pullin on the hand break, Ellen turned off the engine, leaving them both simply sitting there, eyes staring into the distance unsure of what to say or if they should do something at all. Nothing could ever change what had happened; the burning crosses, the threats, the blackmailing and your kidnapping, all resulting in you being in a hospital and a man dead over the rubble of his parents’ house. Not a single word they said would erase a single second, turn back time to that moment late the night before in which Avis had been in this exact position, sitting on the passenger’s seat of your Packard instead of her very own Cadillac.

-Avis. - her hands were still trembling as her eyes broke their gaze from the revolver, lifting her head slowly to look at the blond. Sympathy swam in her blue eyes, concern crashing into her irises in waves of cold water that didn’t quite reached the ginger. Slender fingers intertwined with her own. – Everything will be fine. Y/N is strong, she’s already survived the worst of it. I’m sure she’ll wake up soon.

-I know, it’s just… so hard to believe that it will actually happen. Am I becoming paranoid Ellen? I have this feeling that at any moment I could get a call and she’ll be gone.

-You are not paranoid, you are worried. We all are. This… all this has been bigger than what we anticipated. Far more horrible that we could have ever thought, it’s normal for you to feel that way. She was almost taken from you.

-She was so cold, Ellen. It was as if I was touching pure ice, as if my skin was burning every time I put my hands on her. I was so sure she would be gone before…

-Hey, don’t think that. She’s fine, she will recover, and everything will go back to how it was.

-Will it? I don’t think there could ever be a normal again. We can’t go back to acting as if none of this ever happened, because it did, and I know it has scarred you as much as me, don’t deny it, Ellen. Please.

-I won’t. – would it even matter if they went back in time? Actions would still be engraved in blood and fire in their brains, haunting them in every waking moment, chasing them in nightmares that they could never escape from, shredding their skin with their sharp claws, making their ears bleed with their cruel laughs. What difference would it make if at the end of the day everything would still be fresh in their heads? Avis’s eyes noticed the layer of grief that ghosted over her friend’s eyes, and instead of waiting to be comforted she did the comforting instead, squeezing the woman’s bony hand hoping she would understand. The unshed tears were all the answer she needed. - We are all still in shock, let’s just try to get through the day to the best extent we can. Do you want me to stay with you?

-No, it’s okay. Do you need me to stay with you?

-I’ll be okay on my own, don’t worry.

-Then I’ll get the driver to take you to the studio so you can pick up your car. Promise me you’ll phone me if you need me, okay?

-I should be the one saying that, since you often forget to ask for help.

-Maybe things will change from now on.

Ellen raised her eyebrows in surprise, a small cheeky smile on her thin lips that matched the hints of lifted corners on Avis’s own mouth, a comfortable silence falling in between them as they exited the car. She felt the sun on her skin this time, the warmth that caressed her body gently through the white fluffy clouds that floated in the bright blue sky above. It was a continuous back and forth; one minute she could not feel anything but sorrow, and the next, joy filled her so completely that it almost made her think she would explode. It was as if she was caught up in between two worlds and she had no clue which way to go, which door to choose from the thousands that were presented to her. An absolutely insane hurricane that toyed with her emotions constantly. It made her doubt whether you could actually recover when you had looked so small, so vulnerable and pale, but at the same time she knew she had to believe that with people like Dr. Friedman around you nothing bad would happen to you, and that soon enough she would have you in her arms, cuddling in bed, kissing every inch of your body until dawn came. A soft breeze pushed rogue curls off her face, the floral aroma of her garden overwhelming her senses, making the metallic perfume she wore vanish as if it didn’t exist.  She rummaged through her purse to get her keys, steps slow, exhausted as she made her way to the doors, Ellen following her to protect her sensitive skin from the sun under the covered porch, eyes blinking lazily.

-You be careful Ellen, okay? I wouldn’t survive if something happened to you as well.

-I’ll be extremely cautious and alert at all times, I promise.

-Even so, I’ll get security for you house tomorrow morning. Don’t fight it, just humour me, please.

-I wasn’t going to. I’ll feel much better if I have someone there to watch over me at night.

-If you got with Ernie, you would have extra protection. – the heavy oak doors creaked in its hinges as Avis pushed them open, keys dangling and rattling from their spot inside the keyhole, feeling the cool breeze that wayed through the entrance. The words had left her mouth even before she had been able to filter them, but by the surprised look on her friend’s face and the soft chuckle that escaped her lips they had been exactly what was needed, lifting part of the gloomy atmosphere off the air around them.

-Oh, Avis! I can’t believe you; you are still trying to push me into his arms? Honestly. – she accommodated herself on a chair next to the door, crossing her legs under her blue pencil skirt as if it was just another conversation over a glass of wine, but in that case her suit would not be ruined by stains that not even a dry cleaners would be able to remove. - For what is worth I have already had lunch with him a few times.

-But you weren’t the dessert he was hoping for, I’m sure.

-Oh, you! Things will happen if they are meant to, and that its all I’ll say on the matter.

The following silence was comfortable, happy even, just like it had been all those times they had chatted in the afternoons when neither of them wanted to go home to an empty house, when they had wished to gossip and laugh and simply feel young and foolish. The grey clouds still threatened to rain in the corners of their minds, but they didn’t feel as imminent as before, as if the harsh truths of reality could be put on hold for a while. It was a breath of fresh air for everyone if they were being honest. Before stepping inside her house Avis turned to Ellen, and as a goodbye she kissed her cheek in a quick peck, leaving a translucent mark of her red carmine on the blond’s skin, promising her that the driver would right there. Gertie was waiting by the kitchen’s hallway as her employer stepped into the house, letting the wood creak as the door closed behind her, but the woman didn’t say a word, unable to at the sight of her. She had been perfectly composed when she had left the house that morning, even when she had rushed to gather the guns not that long ago, the woman in front of her looked as if she had just come back from a battlefield. If Avis had noticed the look the maid was giving her, she didn’t bother to mention it, simply asked Gertie to tell the driver that Ellen was waiting outside and made her way to the staircase as the other woman scurried away, a million questions floating in her head. Alone at last she let the armour fall of her body completely, mentally echoing as they dropped onto the ground, the last traces of adrenaline sliding of her arms onto the carpeted floor under her feet.

Each step felt as if she was climbing up a steep mountain, lungs begging for rest as her legs burned from the exercise, but she could not stop, she needed to reach her bedroom as close the door, isolating her from the rest of the world. Her left hand followed the polished wood of the banister, dried scales of blood parting from her skin, stuck to the railing without her noticing, like sprinkles of a punishment you had not deserved.  She had never counted each stair, but it seemed to her as if she would never reach the landing of the first floor, as if with each step she took she was walking backwards and not forward, like a never-ending walk down a hall where there were no doors. It was simply extraordinary in every sense of the words how much every bone and muscle in her body fought against her mind, aching and screaming at her to stop, to sit down and let the world pass by her, but in under a minute she stood over the carpet of the desired floor, barely three feet from her bedroom door. She could hear people moving about downstairs, voices floating as words she could not make out, nor that she wished to, her mind was already rushing as it was, she was not going to add more noise to the growing orchestra. Her heels made no sound as she walked towards her sanctuary, the white door keeping her away from everyone and everything, completely alone and secluded, curtains drawn so only the minimum and necessary sunlight could get in.

As soon as the door clicked shut everything went quiet. There were no cars on the road, no birds chirping joyfully on the other side of her window, no neighbours lounging by their pools with music or guests, just a deep silence that drilled itself into her head. Even before she had let go of her purse her shoes were already off, dropping her height by about five inches, soles pressed against the floor releasing hours’ worth of pain into the air, a sigh of relief falling from her lips. In a vase by the window a bouquet of white roses rested, filling up the space with a gentle floral aroma that could hardly make it past the stench that clung to her body, every single piece she was wearing material for a campfire as they were ruined beyond repair. Throwing the purse on top of the pristine covers she made her way to the bathroom, locking the door behind her, and with precise and practice movements she turned the faucets on top of her pearly white bathtub on. Water poured in angry rivulets, crashing against the porcelain and spreading like a transparent wave until the drain claimed it all, swallowing without mercy. She watched mesmerised for a minute or two, feeling the cold splatters land on her hands from where they rested over the curved rim, the sound loud but somehow soothing. It made her think of the waterfall you had shown her yesterday, with its crystal-clear waters sliding over smooth rocks as if they were nothing, not even an obstacle, free in its movement, choosing its own path without anyone to tell it that it could not. It had been perfect, simply beautiful; just like you.

Steam began to gather as the liquid warmed up, and after wetting two of her fingers to test the temperature Avis pushed the plug over the drain, letting the tub fill up. Normally she would pour oils, foams and other beauty products in that would leave her skin perfectly smooth and smelling like a sublime blend of flowers and sweet oils, but today she had no strength to do so, simply watched as the water spread over the porcelain before turning and heading towards the bathroom mirror. She looked horrendous, she thought. Her hairdo, for the most part, had not survived the day, waves of red and curls the shade of fire matted on top of her head, curls bouncing and cascading over her shoulder and on the back of her neck, a few messy strands framing her face. Even under the artificial light that came from the bulbs placed around the mirror she could make out perfectly every single speck of blood that had landed on her hair, some barely visible to her tired eyesight while others stood out in amorphous shapes that both contrasted and yet blended with her ginger shade. Her once immaculate make up was smeared, mascara gathered in black clumps under her eyes, innocent trails staining her cheeks from all the tears she had cried and yet could only remember vaguely, her rouge patchy over her pale skin, leaving areas with a fake pink tone as others remained as white as marble. Even her carmine was cracked on her lips, streaks cutting through the red shade like a knife that exposed the rosy mouth underneath. But as much as she hated looking all dishevelled like that it was the hundreds of tiny little burgundy splatters all over her face that drove her insane. She felt as if she had been marked by Death; everywhere she looked, every inch of skin her eyes landed on blood would meet her, drops of rubies that had cost more than she could afford to lose.

Her fingertips touched and traced a few of them, smearing the ones that had not yet dried, her own flesh feeling like it belonged to somebody else. As much as she tried to rub them off, they remained imprinted on her, refusing to part from her, and it drove her insane, forcing her fingers to practically scratch the skin off with her fingers until she felt a stinging sensation and realised, she was close to actually drawing her own blood with her nails. Both hands fell over the marble counter, gripping the edge as her body collapsed onto a stool, the vision she had of herself on the bathroom mirror now only reaching up to her bust, though she didn’t need to see the reflecting to know where your bloodied hands had landed on her body. Meeting her own eyes in the reflection she felt every single year she had lived, all the decades of hate, abandonment and humiliation mixing in an explosive cocktail that poisoned her body. Not a single day passed without her wondering why things had turned out the way they did. Why had her once perfect life crumble into a spiral of betrayals, sex and money that she had never asked for? Her plans had been burnt to ashes by an industry in which she now had all the power she desired and still she felt like that Jew that was rejected before she even opened her mouth all those years ago. When had she lost herself? Each question went unanswered, a tired sigh escaping from her parted lips as she lifted her hands and began to pull each pin from her hair, placing them gently on top of the counter, releasing the pressure of the hairdo as each curl fell in perfect waves over her shoulders creating a red mane of frizzy and angry strands.

Her pearl earrings followed. It was amazing how they remained unpolluted, not a single speck of dirt on them maintaining that pristine white look on them as her hands placed to rest on the side, as far away from the sink should they accidentally get hit and fall down a pipe. It was obvious that the next step was to undress but she felt as if she could not stand, as if her legs could give out at any moment and she would end up crumpled on the floor like used tissues, and so she remained seated for a minute or two longer than she should, looking at the falling water that was filling up the huge tub with each passing second, tiny little bubbles coating the surface before popping. She had asked for this bathtub to be made to very specific measurements, hoping that one day she and Ace would share it, soak in it as they talked about absolute nonsense but that moment had never arrived, the size of it making her feel so small each time she stepped inside it, as if she was floating in the middle of an ocean with no boats around to save her should she give up on swimming. She had clung to the idea of using it with him and just with him that she had refused to take any of the gas station boys into her bathroom, not even Ernie, but after she met you the idea of sharing a glass of wine and a conversation only with her husband began to shift, and the image of you instead, filled her mind. And yet she had not had the courage to bathe with you as she dreamed of every night. There could have been so many opportunities lost, so many feelings left unsaid, kisses never received, promises broken, if the doctors had not been able to save you, and that clawed at her heart.

She had been so close to losing you that she was having the worst of times comprehending how you had survived, how you were alive in the hospital when you had been so cold under her touch, her words barely reaching your ears as with each breath you lost a little more of that spark that kept you going. Death was a cruel player of this game, throwing the dice and taking its prize without caring who it was and who they would be abandoning in an empty house, but then again, how could someone without a heart feel any remorse at leaving sorrow and grief wherever it went? Its skeletal hands had had such a strong grip on you that Avis would have never been able to release you, not if she had tried with every fibre of her being, letting her very own soul rot in an attempt to rip you from its sharp claws, but thankfully she had not had to. Her thoughts were scattered in her mind as fog began to build on the edges of the mirror and knowing that the longer she postponed stepping into the water the bigger the chance was of the tub overflowing and her body completely collapsing on her, she pushed herself into a standing position. Her fingers worked slowly on the buttons of her blouse, feeling the sating sliding down her arms until it rested on her hips, caught under the waistline of her skirt until she pulled it out and let it fall on the ground around her feet. The blood had seeped through the thin material and had felt big red splodges on the skin of her arms, like stamps that marked were your body had touched hers.

Her hands traced the shape of her white corselette, ruined just as much as any other of the clothes she was wearing, the crimson liquid having dyed the delicate lace around the boning, the shape of your hand perfectly embedded on the garment, almost down to the creases on your palm, fingers around her waist that she had not seen before. You had been holding onto her, but you had not been afraid of dying, you had made your peace with that, but afraid of leaving her without being able to say one last I love you. Tears welled up in her eyes and this time she made no attempt to stop them; no one could see her here, alone just like she had wanted, staring at all the cracks she had so desperately tried to cover every year of her life. She felt like a porcelain doll that was one single hit away from shattering. With trembling hands and a slightly blurry vision she unzipped the skirt, joining the blouse on the floor. She had not noticed how heavy the garment had got since she had put it on this morning, the fabric having acted as a sponge that had soaked up every gallon of blood your body had released without permission, the black colour hiding the gruesome truth it carried in between each thread and stitch. There was no pressure on her hips pushing her down anymore, only her underwear and her ripped stockings. She placed one foot on the stool and proceeded to unclasp the garter, rolling the once nude silk down her thigh, but something small and sharp that dangled from a hole around her knee caught her attention, and with her thumb and her index finger she picked it up and brought close to her face.

The next instant her hand released the item in horror as her body stepped back, hitting a glass cabinet and making several bottles topple and fall on the shelves. Her body shook, as more tears rolled down her cheeks, smearing the mascara further, her hands shooting out to hold onto the cabinet to keep herself upright even though her back was sliding over the smooth glass towards the ground. It had been so small that she could have easily kept on undressing without seeing it, that pointy and porous piece of what looked like a deep red piece of plaster, but she knew better, she knew what it truly was. She had been carrying a piece of Lon’s body with her all this time, from that hellish house all the way to her very own home, a bone fragment that even in the distance that separated them over the bathroom floor still held beads of dried blood in between its pores. God, she had truly killed a man. There was part of a human being in her home, of a person that she had not hesitated to murder; she hadn’t even blinked when she had done it, in cold blood. In her head she had repeated on a loop until even her mental voice had turned hoarse that it had to bed done, that if she hadn’t pulled the trigger, he would have killed you and would have probably ended up doing the same to her, but she could not process it. It was a if her brain had suddenly turned into a fortress that wouldn’t allow that information to pass, and it brought a distressed cry out of her throat that she tried to cover up with her mouth.

It wasn’t a matter of what people might think of her; it was a matter of she thought of herself. It was something irreversible, something that she had extremely clear in her mind about you, how if you died there was no coming back, no replacement in a drawer unlike with scripts, but there had only been one Lon as well. Was she a monster now? A criminal? A murderer? Both her hands flew to her face, covering it as she cried and sobbed, everything falling on top of her at the same time like a building collapsing, and this time there was no adrenaline to mask it and no Jack to save her from facing it all, just her and the wind whirl of emotions that she could not control. Every breath was sharp, loud and with a certain wheezing sound to it, mixing with her sobs like a sonata being played in the wrong key but she could not stop. This wasn’t her, the woman she had created after all those decades of hatred and loss, she was a completely different Avis who had no idea how to face the world anymore, who didn’t know her own strengths and weaknesses. She was a stranger in her own skin. A bitter, metallic taste reached her tongue from between her parted lips, and in utter horror she removed her hands from her face to see that the once dry blood was dripping down her arms, thin crimson rivers that branched out over her pale skin as if you had been in her arms only a few seconds ago. This was your very own life coating her skin, not his, you were the innocent one who hadn’t deserved to be beaten to the edge, hanging onto to life by a single thread that he had been far too close to cutting.

Why couldn’t she understand her own actions?! She needed her brain to accept it all before she went insane. Even though the crimson liquid held no heat except for the one that seeped from her body to the atmosphere around her, it felt to her as if it was burning her flesh down to the bone, and in a rushed and clumsy manner she crawled towards the sink and stood up. The faucet ran cold water for a moment, but she did not care, she scrubbed desperately every single inch of flesh she could, watching how the crystal-clear liquid drained in a deep red shade, the stream never lightening, never stopping, her hands still as dark as before. Her eyes met themselves in the mirror, puffy, oak irises dim of every spark they had possessed merely hours ago, following the burgundy outline her own fingers had left over her cheeks, as if she had slapped herself with her blood covered hands. The sink could not do it, she thought; it wasn’t enough. She practically ripped the stockings of her body and unhooked the corselette with as much speed as her trembling hands would allow, hurried breaths matching the silents tears that were still falling. Naked over the tiled floors she caught a glimpse of her body reflecting on the cabinet behind her and the mirror on her side, picking up on every spot of her body that had remained pristine as if they hadn’t been there with her when everything had unfolded, untouched. If she was still Avis, if the eyes that looked back at her still belonged to her why did she feel so broken? Maybe she had been that way all along and had only been able to see it now, when there was no armour to protect her, no walls to keep her true self hidden away.

Your blood ran over her body like snakes, dripping from her fingertips just as it had done back in the hospital, drops that one by one crashed onto the ground, as if hours hadn’t already passed, and as she looked away from her reflection she didn’t hesitate to step into the hot water that swirled inside the tub, letting the warmth soothe her aching muscles as she sat over the porcelain, the faucet still running. It was as if she was covered in a strange emulsion that, as soon as her body submerged itself, seemed to peel of her skin like strings. They had a life of their own, curving in strange forms and creating tight ringlets and beads that did not melt into the water until several seconds after they had been floating around, turning the white around her into a light pink that slowly darkened as the seconds clicked. All those odd shapes diluted like they were nothing, like they hadn’t belonged to anyone, as if they hadn’t had a purpose, and Avis could only watch this morbid display as if she wasn’t the one involved, the producer and yet the product of this horror film she had not agreed to be part of. The parallels were there, the hypocrisy embedded in her mind, but no matter how hard she tried to not compare your situations to Lon’s her treacherous and vindictive mind was working against her, forcing her to see two different images one right next to the other as if she was standing in the room, bloodied water dripping onto the dirty ground as it slid of her body.

On the left was you, lying over exposed cement with black and blue bruises painted on your body, broken limbs showing sharp edges of bone, bleeding through your ears, the corners of your eyes, every scratch and injury separating you from her as your delicate frame turned nearly into a corpse before her eyes. Everything around you was dark, windows taped up, not even the candle she had seen in your cage lighting up the room, just cold and shadows. On the right was Lon, with a shattered leg that glistened gruesomely under fading rays of sunshine, gurgling and choking as his chest fought against the open wound that could never be repaired, heart shredded by a bullet, lungs collapsing in a pool of his own blood, a murderer that had met his match. The only difference she could see was that you had been almost killed by him while he had been killed by her, the ghost of the shotgun heavy in her hands as they floated under the hot water. What was the distinction between her and him that wouldn’t label Avis as a murderer like him? From a shelf next to the tub she picked up a dark blue sponge and dipped it in the bath before proceeding to rub the skin of her arms with it, the strength she was using far harsher than what she would usually do but there was something in the back of her mind telling her that she needed to remove every speck of blood that covered her body. She scrubbed, scratched and turned her skin from pink to red in an attempt to vanish it all, moving onto her chest and torso in a panic state as she saw that some of it seemed to be stuck on her, that no amount of pressure and hard work could remove it. She was brutal, leaving her flesh raw, a very thin line separating her skin from being intact to a bleeding mess, and yet she carried on, frantic in her need to free herself from everything, but to no avail.

Invisible hands pressed themselves onto her flesh, bruising her shoulders, the soft skin of her neck, her collarbones and sternum, leaving the imprint of wine-coloured palms on the sides of her breasts that matched the fading outline of yours that had seeped from her blouse down to her taunt abdomen, nails scratching without noticing. They were everywhere, like a thousand demons that wished to rip her skin off until only bones were left floating in the bath, and with sponge in hand she seemed to be aiding them. Soap soon followed, that special blend she had had made so she would always smell of cashmere and champagne, but the aroma was the least of her concerns, the white bubbles forming on the sponge soon tainted pink with each stroke over her thighs and shins, hissing painfully as her cuts got cleaned. They wouldn’t leave a mark of course, but as soon as the thought crossed her mind every movement halted. Would yours? She had traced the stitches and bandages, and she had seen with her very own eyes every wound on your precious skin, but she had never even thought of whether they would remain forever embedded on you, a constant reminder for both her and you. Would she hate them whenever she saw them? Would your eyes close every time you stepped into the shower and refuse to look at yourself in the mirror? From her spot kneeling inside the tub, she could see her translucent reflection on the glass cabinet, in between fallen bottles of oils and foams, seeing for the first time her true self meeting her back. Her face was free of makeup, pale and pristine, her neck smooth without a single speck left, the ends of her hair and the strands that framed her face wet, sticking to her skin.

This is what you saw, the real her she hadn’t met since she had been a child, a side of her she had been scared of for decades but that you had adored with every fibre of your being, kissing it, cherishing it. It was as if she was seeing herself through your eyes, admiring things that were not only physical but emotional, and she wasn’t hating it. If you had seen all her flaws and cracks and still loved her, why would she hate your scars? They would be silent stories of survival embroidered onto your flesh, like rose golden threads that told a tale only a few privileged people could read, and every moment you spent in her arms she would whisper in your ear that they could never hold you back, that they could only push you further into the life you deserved. Slowly the puzzle was rearranging itself on a steady table at last.  Her hands let go of the sponge, watching in the reflection the way the moving water made it float around the surface, fingers wrapped around the rim as splatters of both reddish and crystal-clear liquid fell drop by drop around the tub. Her breaths were hurried, and her muscles ached like never before, but all panic and fight had vanished from her; she just felt so tired, so exhausted, leaving her to soak in filthy water for a minute or two as she looked at herself in the glass. There was a bruise on her right collarbone that she traced gently with her left had fingers, feeling the tenderness on her skin the butt of the shotgun had caused. This injury would fade along with the others, but yours would stay for all eternity. Unplugging the drain, she watched in silence the small swirl that formed as the water travelled down the pipe, exposing her naked form to the foggy bathroom air, the warmth of her body contrasting with the cold atmosphere even if in truth the room was filled with steam and heat.

White bubbled clung to the sides of the tub as the water level decreased, sliding down her body from underneath her breasts to her waist and beyond until the only thing left was foam stuck to her skin and to the porcelain bottom. She didn’t want to think anymore, she just wanted to push everything to the back of her mind and reach the end of the day. If she thought about everything one more time, she would be stuck in the same loops she had been all day and she just couldn’t handle it. She needed her mind to shut up and leave her be. She had turned the faucet off at some point, though she could not recall when, and to a certain extent it felt kind of dumb to turn it on again, the sponge underneath the stream of brand-new clean water, washing the left-over residue on the blue strands. Her movements were lazy, slow as with a sigh she pushed the plug back over the drain and let it fill up again, but this time she rested against the back and rim of it, feeling the warmth coated her body as the level rose, foam forming on the edges from the soap she had not gotten rid of, but it didn’t matter to her, it would soon fade as well. A bottle of bath salts caught her attention through her half-closed eyelids, the purple shade of lavender rocks making the corners of her mouth twitch in what could have been a smile. They had been a gift from you for Valentine’s Day, along with some lotions, flowers and chocolates, everything in a basket she had put away in her closet among her purses. They had hardly been expensive, and Avis knew she could have traded them for better things or even regifted them to Ellen or Miss Stinton, but they had come from you, and that bright smile you had just for her had prevented her from even entertaining the thought. These things were yours, she could never part with them, she could never sell them or give them away, no matter how much they cost or if they didn’t fit with her lavish lifestyle, they were simply yours. It was hardly an excuse, but it was the truth. She had kept every single gift you had ever given her, from flowers that laid pressed in between pages of books Ace would never read, to a metallic box of chocolates she used now to store pictures of you, bows you had forgot at her place, even a lock of you golden hair that you had cut in front of her so you would always be with her.

She had in her possession dozens of little things that had belonged to you, or still did, like the nightgown she kept under her pillow just in case you stayed with her at night, and every moment she didn’t spend with you she spent it with your things, knowing that come the morning your face would greet her again with a smile, and your lips would kiss hers as if it was the most normal things in the universe. With perfectionated practice Avis turned the faucet off with her foot once the water reached her neck, the rest of her body submerged under a thin layer of foam randomly spaced over the crystal surface. Steam swirled around her like white smoke, but it didn’t choke her, it simply floated about the room, lulling her slowly to a world in which you were there with her. She had plans for the two of you, trips, dinners, picnics, dances… She wanted to show you off like you deserved, to dress you in the most beautiful gowns and twirl you around the dance floor without a care in the world, breathing in your perfume, caressing your skin with her hands and her lips. She wanted to make love to you. She wanted Ace to be you, to call you her wife and take you with her to every luncheon and every meeting, hand in hand, have midnight conversations and laughing fits that left her breathless under the moonlight with you in her arms. She had almost lost all that the dreams that could be and the ones that society would never allow but now that she knew you would be alright, as hard as it still was to process it, there was no reason for her not to do them.

She was a grown woman who had defeated all the odds, who had fought with herself to get to where she was now. She was not going to step back and let life pass her by again, even if it meant living with the consequences of her actions. At the end of the day his death had brought on your survival. Avis took a big gulp of air and submerged herself completely under the foamy waters, red locks floating around her face as every sound in the universe dimmed, eyes closed, letting herself fall as if she was floating in a never-ending ocean. She could feel the currents brushing her naked body, legs and arms moving from side to side to keep herself upright in the bottomless waters, silence in her mind, deep in her throat and ears, no waves crashing above her head, just her body and her. It was so peaceful like this, where nothing could get to her, nothing could disturb her very needed break from reality, blue all around her form, her fiery curls swaying in a rhythm that caressed her cheeks and the back of her neck like tender kisses. She could feel the gentle flow of blood in her veins, her heart pumping steadily, her lungs holding onto the oxygen provided like a mother holds her child, close to her chest whispering promises of a wonderful future filled with love and happiness. She could give that to you, she could be beside you until her very last day returning all the love you had given her, all the passion and joy you had brough to her life. It felt like an eternity as she floated in that vast ocean, free, but her lungs soon began to constrict and the need for air overtook everything else, but her body did not disturb the gentleness of the moment and broke the surface with the utmost care, water sliding over her eyelids and nose, kissing her rosy lips as they dripped off of her from her eyelashes, oak irises opening to meet the same scenery.

She was in the same place but everything around her had changed. The atmosphere felt different, lighter perhaps, as if a pair of hands had been covering her eyes and had at last been removed, allowing her to see everything clearly again. Her life had shifted from that safe spot where she had resided for decades into a place where she was in charge, not having to ask anyone about what she was allowed to do or not, what things were appropriate or worth taking risks for. Meg was a risk she was glad she took; you were a risk she had been waiting to take for her entire existence, everything she stood for now was a risk, and she very much wanted to continue like this, no steps back. She had suffered terribly, but she was no true innocent, she had caused pain as well, and as she sat on the bathtub hugging her legs close to her chest, hair cascading down her back like molten lava, she realised that things had to change with Ace if she wanted to move forward form this point. They had been so locked up on throwing dirt and pushing each other to the ground that they had forgotten why they had got together in the first place, what was truly important. Claire had been caught in the crossfire, and no one had been there to take care of her. True that Avis had been putting on the effort to fix things with her, to create a bond, and understanding, but Ace had to as well; it wasn’t in the hopes that they would become the happy family she had dreamt of, but because the three of them deserved to at least become friends even if love could never truly happen. Ace had made it very clear that he was not interested in her like that, and she had you, the most perfect angel sent to the land of sinners to show her that love was real and not a legend or a prize for the lucky ones.

It had to happen like this because she was Avis Amberg and yet she was not, not until she was ready to become who she was meant to be. Time would tell when that moment would arrive, but for the time being she could simply bask in the joy of knowing that you were alive and would recover. The sponge floated up to her, colliding gently with her knees and breaking her concentration on her reflection on the glass cabinet. Every movement as she washed was mechanical, methodical and usual as she opened her shampoo and lathered her hair in the tender smell of orange blossoms, foam all over her scalp as she scratched the skin hoping to remove what little blood might be left, feeling it running down her back as she picked up the showerhead to remove it. There was no need for her to stand and wash her body yet again, but she did it anyway, although this time her hands were kind to her skin and refused to use more pressure than what was necessary to cover her flesh in cashmere bubbles. She had been cruel to herself far too many times today, she could afford to be kind for a change. Hot water fell over her face and body, rivers of diamonds sliding over her skin, taking with them every bit of soap they could find and releasing the image of smooth and almost perfect frame, travelling over her freckled shoulder, in between her breasts that rose and fell with each slow breath, beads of water falling off her pink nipples and crashing in quiet plops around her knees, each stream molded to her body down to every wrinkle and stretch mark.

Her hands pushed the wet hair off her face before squeezing the excess off, head lulled back as her eyes closed briefly, the sound of water returning to water filling up the bathroom as steam gathered around her, before bending to unplug the tub and let it drain for the last time. Her slightly wrinkled fingers grabbed her salmon-coloured bathrobe as her legs stepped out onto the tiled floor, cool under her hot skin, leaving small puddles with each step she took towards the sink, arms going through each sleeve, the soft fabric clinging to her curves as she loosely tied it around her waist. It left the valley between her breasts exposed along with part of her upper abdomen, but she did not mind, using her right hand to wipe the fog from the mirror before sitting back on the stool. It was a completely different sight to the one that had welcomed her the moment she had stepped into the bathroom, but it was a better one as well, no more blood in sight, no smeared makeup, just her, completely bare, meeting her reflection. Dark spots appeared on the back of her robe and around her legs from the water that was gliding down her body and dripping from the wavy ends of her ginger hair. From a hanger on the left side of the room she picked up a small white towel and gently tapped her face dry before scrunching and shaking her locks into a light dampness, proceeding with a short version of her skincare as she threw it onto the hamper to her right. Lotions, oils, serums, almost a dozen bottles rested around the sink, but she didn’t feel like doing every single step, too tired to even entertain the thought, so she simply grabbed the daytime lotion and tapped a few beads onto her skin, massaging it as the white cream got spread and absorbed.

It made her glow under the artificial lights. Coming to stand she towered over the ruined clothes, observing them in disgust, lip curling slightly before she headed towards the door and unlocked it, steaming colliding with the chilly breeze inside her bedroom in spirals that faded into nothing. She would burn those clothes that same night. She would throw them in a paper bag and watch as the flames consumed them until there was not a single thread of fabric left. After all it wasn’t as if she didn’t have clothes to wear and underwear to spare, she was not even going to try to save them. She was not going to face the memories of today over and over again every time she opened her closet or when the idea of wearing them crossed her mind, but most of all she was not going to subject you or anyone around her to the sight of them ever again. Her steps were sure but fatigued as she crossed the room towards her vanity, curtains perfectly still as they fought against the sunlight that was begging to be let in, palms swaying to the warm breeze outside as Avis sat herself on her ivory-coloured padded chair. There were small items scattered all over the white wood, from a box of hairpins to small bottles of perfume, but her hand did not reach for any of them, it picked up her silver brush, her initials engraved in the back surrounded by tulips, and began to run it over her damp hair, watching in the reflection the way her fiery locks gently draped over her shoulders, lazily beginning to curl. It was a soothing motion, like tender fingers that caressed and massaged her scalp with each stroke, and as her movements began to slow down, she felt the headache that had been threatening to form and possibly render her useless for the rest of the day was being pushed away, dissolving around her temples and behind her eyes.

Under normal circumstances she would start applying makeup as soon as she rolled up her hair; layers of foundation, rouge and mascara that shaped the stern and superior persona she had always been. But for some reason she did not wish to hide away behind all that right now. It wasn’t that she did not enjoy dolling herself up, she was the first to spend hours trying new sets and products and adored to see the beauty they accentuated on her red lips and deep outlined eyes, but it felt right now like an excuse to build those retched walls around herself again, a fortress that her tired hands could not erect. Satisfied with how her hair looked after a few minutes she left the brush on top of the wood, next to the box where her pearl earrings belonged, sighing deeply at the stiffness on her shoulders. The doctor had told her to wait until evening arrived to go back to the hospital, but she didn’t think she could find it in herself to simply sit around for hours, much less try to get some rest when she knew for a fact your unconscious face with all those horrendous tubes around you would appreciate behind her closed eyelids. It felt as if you were in the room with her, like an intangible presence that her eyes frantically looked for and never found, and yet her brain was telling her that it was real. Like a ghost that whispered words in her ear that she could not understand. She could feel you in every corner of the room, in every stitch of her clothes, under the covers of her bed, floating around the curtains that kept her world hidden from reality. You were in the very foundations of her home and in every drop of water that she had been submerged in, filling in the peaceful silence, but it was all an illusion.

A shiver ran down her spine, beads of water still clinging to her skin making her shake slightly, so in an effort to make time pass quicker she stood up and returned to the bathroom to moisturise. Her Elizabeth Arden body lotion rested right next to her Helena Rubenstein face cream, the pristine white and golden bottle clashing with the deep green jar, a harmonious battle that blended like the Heavens on her body. The door was left ajar this time as Avis untied the robe and let it fall over her blood-stained clothes, the soft fabric sliding over her flesh like melted butter until she stood naked over the tiles once more. Her hands were perfectly rehearsed as she picked up decent amounts of the cream and began to gently massage it over her arms and shoulders, following the pattern of collarbones, sternum and breasts. She was extra careful around her bruised skin, deep blues and purples beginning to form under a dark layer of what could only be considered black, the chipped nail varnish following the fading edges until she could not tell when the redness of the injury ended and the pale tones of her skin began. The thoughts began to unravel on the edges of her mind, memories sliding to the front like venomous snakes that wished to poison her and make her crumble back to the ground but she did not allow it, pushed them back to the darkness and depths of her brain with all her might and continued applying the lotion on her abdomen and as far as she could reach on her back. With one leg perched on the stool, toes pressed against the hard glass, her hands run up and down her shin and calf, fingers carefully observing the scratches as they rubbed the flesh, inching over her knee towards her thigh, smooth skin molding to the motions provided to help absorb the cream.

If you had been in the room with her your hands would have done it for her, the pads of your fingers massaging every inch of her, touching her tenderly until her body melted against yours, kisses following ever trail your palms had travelled originally to make sure she was perfectly tended to, completely and utterly loved. There would be time for that, she thought as she perched her other leg, enough time for her to show you just how much you meant to her and how much she loved you. She would take you to secluded spots so you could look up at the stars together, sharing kisses hidden by the veil of night, she would take walks with you down parks and boulevards, your arm interlaced with hers as the two of you laughed and talked not sparing anyone a glance as your eyes would be completely glued to each other. She had so many plans, so many things she wanted to do with you that she had been doubtful and worried would be frowned upon, but not anymore. She had been playing a game with rules given by someone else, it was about dammed time she made the calls instead. Her hands finished applying the lotion over her thigh, body glowing gently as her skin absorbed the cream. She stepped down from the stool after a moment to wipe her hands clean on a towel and grab her ocean blue satin robe from where it hung behind the bathroom door. It felt incredibly soft on her smooth body as she put it on, lace on the cuffs of her sleeves and the entire hemline of the garment that dressed her body in gentle blue tones. Her body was as much on display as before, her breasts practically spilling out of it as the slit showed of her legs with each step she took as she made her way back into the bedroom. Her hands itched to do something, but her brain was at a complete loss as to what. As she began to pace over the carpeted floor she saw her purse from the corner of her eye, an idea striking her as she bent over the mattress, her nipples barely covered by the blue satin, and picked up her silver cigarette case and golden lighter. With practice easy she placed one in between her rosy lips and made her way towards the window, pushing ethe curtains to the sides and opening the glass enough so that the soft warmth of the day could slide inside the room and snatch both the coolness that seeped form the walls as well as the tobacco infused fumes. 

The first puff tasted marvellous to her, the rich and bitter aroma hitting her tongue and nose, working wonders on calming whatever nerves were still a bit frayed, smoke travelling down her throat and into her lungs in an intoxicating blend of nicotine and a hint of mint that she was unsure where it came from. It got released out of her mouth and nostrils in lazy grey swirls that slipped into the air outside ethe room, diluting amongst oxygen until there was nothing left. Only the leftover state in her mouth. The world had indeed kept spinning without any of them following. Palm trees moved from side to side at angles that only made the leaves dance under the bright golden sun beams, the sky as blue as ever, not a cloud in sight, not a bird slicing through it, simply unblemished above everyone’s heads. There was the muffled sound of cars driving around, of birds chirping and bees buzzing around the flowers of her garden, blooming in a variety of colours that hours ago would have seemed black and grey. Everything was still as beautiful as ever, but Avis knew better, Ellen knew better. No amount of petals falling over her emerald grass could make you wake up any faster or heal in the course of barely a night, and as she took another drag of her cigarette her eyes drifted to the clock on her nightstand, a unique piece made in gold and sapphires that matched the perfection of Swiss watches. It read four in the afternoon. Had it really been so long? She could have sworn that the last time she had glanced at the clock, back in her office, it had read eleven. How had so many hours passed when it felt to Avis as if it had barely been five minutes? The entire day seemed to have passed in a blur around her, everyone and everything rushing, leaving her memories of the events looking like a film that was being played at a much higher rate of frames per minute than usual. Right on cue her stomach growled, reminding her that she had been going around with just a cup of coffee and some scotch in her system, not a single bite of food ingested in all those hours, just nicotine, caffeine and alcohol; the golden trio, she thought with tired and bitter amusement.

-Ma’am? – she had not heard the gentle knock on the door it seemed, as Gertie’s voice floated up to her while the woman remained in the hallway, only her head poking through the crack she had opened. Ginger girls bounced as Avis turned her head, a puff of smoke escaping from her parted lips. – Is everything alright? – the poor woman must have been scared out of her wits, she thought, watching her enter the house in such a state, but as much as she wanted to explain everything to her, she did not want to subject her to such horrors. At least she could spare one innocent person from suffering.

-Yes. Everything’s fine now. I apologize if I seemed… erratic or if I frightened you when I came in.

-No need, ma’am. I simply wished to know if you were alright or if I need to call the doctor.

-I am perfectly fine, as you can see, but I do appreciate you checking on me. You are good woman, Gertie.

-I’m simply doing my job, but thank you, Mrs. Amberg. – a soft blush crept up her cheeks, something Avis was not used to seeing and she wondered if she had been as kind to her as she had been to Avis. She was well aware that there had been many times she had to clean up after a fight between her and Ace, glasses and vases shattered on the floor, pictures knocked to the ground in fury, but had she ever told her just how thankful she was for not leaving? The woman had become a pilar of stability in Avis’s life, and she hardly thought she could do without her at this point in her existence. Perhaps she could send her on a long and very well-deserved holiday to some exotic place as a way of repaying her. - Is there anything I can do for you?

-Actually, there is. Could you phone Oscar Russel, down at the Packard dealership, and ask him if he knows of anyone who can change the seats in my Cadillac for brand-new ones? Someone who won’t ask questions.

-Of course, ma’am. Same colour and material?

-Yes, Gertie. And could you fix me something to eat? You don’t have to go overboard with the meal, just something quick and simple that won’t dirty the kitchen too much. I don’t want you to have to tidy it up again.

-Do not worry about that Mrs. Amberg. Do slices of turkey with some gravy and grilled asparagus sound appetizing, ma’am?

-Very much.

-Then I will have them ready for you in a moment and will call Mr. Russell later this afternoon. Anything else ma’am? A drink perhaps?

-No, thank you, Gertie. That will be all.

The door clicked close, leaving Avis alone once again, the cigarette dropping ashes onto the ground even if part of them were carried outside by sudden gusts of wind. Some day she would explain everything to Gertie and put the woman out of her misery, but it would not be today. She watched the sun for a brief moment, already moving west as dusk approached, the once bright white light that bathed the world turning slowly into soft golden rays with hints of orange, but not quite yet. There were still a few hours left of sunlight, the world not ready to meet the night and all the shadows that came along with it. Another drag left the cigarette between her fingers practically burnt to the very edge of the butt, and with no desire to light another she exhaled the smoke through her mouth before tapping it out on the stray that was on her nightstand. The slight tinges of tobacco clung to her robe as she made her way to her drawers to pick out a set of underwear, satins, silks and lace meeting her as she pulled the one on the top right open. There were purple brassieres, white corselettes, black bodices… in truth, anything and everything money could by at a store, but she made no attempt to find something sexy the way she had been doing since she met you, she searched for comfort and practicality, and in the end, she found her trusty dark corselette. It was a bit worn out around the straps, and some of the lace could do with a few extra stitches, but she had had it for years and it suited her body, and her currents needs better than anything else.

It came as a set, of course, so it had a matching pair of panties that she grabbed as she returned to the bathroom, though this time she didn’t even bother to close the door. She wasn’t as careless with her blue robe as she had been with her salmon one, still resting on the floor, and hung it behind the door just as it had been before, making quick work of putting on her undergarments, adjusting the hooks and her breasts so everything would sit exactly as it was supposed to, the top of her bosom spilling from under cups of simple but exquisite embroidery. Barefooted she walked to her closet and threw the doors wide open, suits, dresses and mink coats meeting her eyes but alas there was desire for such extravagance today. No rich colours and expensive fabrics would dress her body, and she was adamant about following that rule. Her fingers brushed over silk blouses and tweed skirts, some of the garments not having been worn in years, but for some reason she hadn’t parted with them, and they now laid inside her wardrobe gathering dust and as possible victims to moths should they ever get inside her closet. Chanel and Dior were most definitely out of the question, not to mention Versace, all dresses that she could wear to a dinner or a party, but not to spend a night in hospital with you, but then her eyes picked up on a bag hidden in the back. She had forgotten about it. Grabbing the hanger, she took the bag out of the wardrobe and laid it flat on top of the covers before carefully unzipping it. Inside was a simple dark forest green gown with short mutton sleeves that didn’t carry too much of a puff around the shoulder, a skirt that reached her knees, maybe an inch underneath them, and a decorative cinched waist with elastics hidden in the back. It was practical, a garment she had never worn because she hadn’t been sure what sort of event would require for a gown as simple and classic as this, a dress that spoke of privacy and propriety to a level that had never felt right to Avis but that right now she considered the correct call.

It was of no concern to her if it was made out of the softest velvet, it would probably keep her warm once the temperature outside the hospital dropped and a cool breeze began to seep into your room, so without giving her brain a chance to back down she searched for the zipper, which had conveniently been placed on the side instead of the back,  and stepped right into it. It was outstanding how designers could take one single look at her and get her measurements perfect down to the last decimal. It clung to her in all the right spots, showing of her waist while at the same time leaving certain parts of her body to the imagination, only the slightest hint of a cleavage peeking from behind the soft neckline. You would have loved it, she thought as her hands travelled over the fabric, imagining for a second that they were yours, arms wrapping around her waist as your head rested on her shoulder telling her how beautiful she looked. It made her lips break out in a genuine smile that only her eyes saw reflected on the mirror as she hugged herself as if her palms could feel the skin of your arms around her body. Standing barefooted over the carpet she looked over to the other side of her bed, the one Ace would usually occupy but that had been empty for a while now, counting the days you had spent on it and gathering in her mind the numbers, wondering if your shampoo or your perfume could still be lingering on what used to be her husband’s pillow. Like a magnet she headed towards it, needing to know and at the same time afraid that only his aftershave would hit her nostrils, shaky hands picking it up and placing it close to her chest. A tear threated to fall as she caught a gentle but lingering whiff of your berry perfume under Ace’s sandalwood aroma, and for once it did not feel as if it didn’t belong there with yours.

Perhaps many more things had changed inside of her than she had anticipated. Walking to her side of the bed she sat carefully on top of the covers still cradling the pillow in her arms, wishing to keep as much of you with her as she could until you healed enough to come home. Had she just thought of her house as yours as well, as the only place she ever wanted you to live in? It felt selfish but how could she not wish to keep you with her when she had been so close to losing you? Minutes passed without warning as she remained seated, unmoving, lost in thoughts that she would forget as soon as she woke up from her dissociative episode but that for the time being she could immerse herself in. You had mentioned once how you would have loved to live in a house with a big garden, flowers everywhere for your tender hands to care for as spring came, picking up oranges and peaches in the heat of August that you would place carefully in the skirt of your dress or in a basket, the unforgiving heat gliding over your skin as if you were unaffected by it, smiling up to her form her spot by the pool, or maybe she would get her hands dirty and pick them with you. There was an entire world of possibilities before her that she had never seen before, and each idea and plan was better than the one that had come before it, but all of them shared one common factor. Your happiness. Gertie’s voice floated up to the room and although it did not pass the closed bedroom door Avis understood that her meal was waiting for her, snapping her out of her moment and forcing her to let go of the pillow and finish up getting dressed. Her black heels were sprawled out on the floor, abandoned, probably as stained and ruined as everything else, and as with everything else, she was not even going to try to fix them. Opening another set of doors, dozens of pairs of shoes greeted her in every colour possible, in lines and cuts that not many people had the privilege of even seeing in magazines, but she already knew which ones she was going to wear.

Her hands reached for a beautiful pair of green heels, pumps, if her mind did not betray her, that matched her gown. But there was still something missing, a touch to make it all come together, a detail that would wrap it up and make look like one of the outfits Avis would usually wear but without all the unnecessary splendour. Rummaging through her jewellery box nothing seemed to stand out to her, her stomach rumbling reminding her that her food was getting cold downstairs, and she had to hurry, but there just wasn’t a thing in it that wasn’t either too expensive or simply too much. The thought of forgetting all about it crossed her mind for a moment, but she discarded it the same instant it came up in her mind and headed to her nightstand where she knew for a fact, she had a few pieces she knew she had to put away but never remembered. Underneath handkerchiefs and several pairs of gloves she found a golden locket. It wasn’t anything Ace had gifted her, much less something producers or actors had placed on the table for a good part or a good price for a movie, this was a token you had given her just because. There had been no fancy dinners or flowers awaiting her, just you with the locket after a hard day at the studio. This was it, the cherry on top of the ice cream that she had been looking for, the dried petals of a daisy inside it, the first flowers Avis had given to you back in January, almost right after New Year’s. You had meticulously pressed them and aired them so they would never rot, eternal inside their golden case that Avis was now fastening around her neck, the jewel sitting perfectly over her collarbones and stopping right at the top of her cleavage.

The sight that welcomed her in the mirror was far from what she was used to, but she could not say that she did not like this homely, comfortable look, not when all that mattered was getting herself back to the hospital as soon as possible. There was no chance in Hell she was going to leave you to wake up alone. With one last brush of her hands over the green velvet she picked up her purse and the cigarette case and headed out of the bedroom, but just as she was about to step through the threshold she stopped. Was this what she truly wanted? Could she handle all the things she had changed? In an hour Avis had turned her entire world upside down, had transformed herself into something she had never been before, but she hadn’t sat down to consider if it was what she needed. Maybe she was not as ready as she thought to push away the Avis Amberg she had grown accustomed to. That woman wasn’t bad, she was simply cold, distant. She had been hurt far too many times. She had known where her place was and what role she played, and she had been bloody brilliant every time it had been her turn, but there had been things she had hated about herself that she never wanted to live again. So, maybe instead of becoming someone completely different she could consider other options, like… adapting? Evolving to fit with the woman she was now without giving up all the good things that she had been back then. The best of both worlds with flaws and faults that you would see and help her modify to become the woman everyone deserved, including herself. Something had been missing, and she knew exactly what it was. Walking inside the room again she approached her vanity and from the first drawer on the left she picked up her signature Victory red lipstick and with meticulous fingers applied it, looking up to see those same chocolate eyes she was used to but with a sparkle of something new shining behind her irises. Now she was ready.

Her steps were confident, strong, as she walked out into the landing and down the stairs, meeting Gertie by the dining room as the woman told her that her lunch was waiting for her inside. It did not go unnoticed the gentle smile that graced the maid’s lips as she walked back to the kitchen, and it sure made Avis feel good. But she forced the sensation to subside, as if she had no right to feel that much joy when you were not there with her to share it. The meal was excellent, of course, and to her starving system it tasted as if angels had cooked it, each bite a wonderful mix of herbs and saltiness that covered the bitter taste the cigarette had left behind. Just as her hand lifted the glass in front of her to take a sip of water the doors opened, signalling that the driver had returned and Ellen was probably on her way home by now, so without missing a beat Avis called for him. His semblance had not changed from this morning, serious, competent in everything that he did, but as she turned to him with her head held high, she saw something in his eyes that told her he had put the pieces together, and was pretty sure he knew what had happened, or almost everything. It hit her like a bucket of cold water, and it made her realise just how easy it was for someone to find out about what had happened and begin to talk, half a dozen people’s lives destroyed with one quick blow. She knew he would not talk, he had been with the Ambergs almost as much as Gertie and he had never shared a single thing about what went on with her family in or out of their home, so she knew she could trust him, but that didn’t mean that strangers could not get wind of something, just one small detail and cause for everything to be exposed. Suddenly all the confidence that had filled her up popped like a balloon and the gravity of the situation weighted her down once again, making the almost fading aches return. With a quiet voice she asked him to get the car ready again as she required to be driven to the hospital and she could not use her own vehicle, to which he nodded in understanding and left. No questions were asked, no looks of disappointment or disgust were thrown her way, but she felt so small all of a sudden, as if she had been in a self-centred bubble and it had been popped by all the thorns she was walking on top of now.

Why did every happy moment have to be destroyed? Her feelings were not directed against you, they weren’t even against herself, but they were there, and they were pulling her back to square one, all the way to the very beginning as if she had made no progress at all, and she was just too dammed tired to walk that same road all over again. The food that was left on the plate didn’t look appetizing anymore, and she was not about to sit there and rot until a reasonable time for her to leave arrived. She would rip her hair off in anxiety, her head would explode. With a quick gulp she downed the rest of the water and left the glass on the table before standing up and making her way towards the entrance to grab her coat and tell Gertie that she wasn’t sure if she’d be home tonight and to not touch the clothes that were in her room, that she would handle that herself when she returned. The woman nodded even if Avis was already walking out the door, watching with worry how the confident aura had vanished in barely a few minutes. The sun was shining as bright as ever, but to Avis the blue sky was covered in thick grey clouds that threatened her with a storm, matching the uncertainty she felt regarding what she would do when she set foot in the hospital and people began to pry into affairs that did not concern them. She did not have Dick nor Henry to help her out. The driver opened the back seat door for her and let her accommodate herself before sitting behind the wheel and turning the engine on, Avis feeling the vibrations of the motor under her feet. With her eyes glued to the window and her elbow resting on the door as her hand propped up her head, every thought and question she had successfully pushed away returned, and not having the answers to any of them unnerved her more than words could express.

She trusted Dick, of course she did, but people could be cruel, and she was well aware that Henry would sell his own mother if it benefited him in some way, but would he really spread rumours or even tell the press about everything if he could earn some sort of profit? She wanted to say that she trusted him blindingly and she was sure he would never even consider it, but the truth was that she couldn’t. He had been willing to let you die all for a film, for an object that could be done again in a few months, and she was not going to forget about that fact easily or soon. She could cover up her traces as best she could, and protect Ellen, Dick and the boys so their lives would not be ruined, but she would keep an eye on Henry for as long as she saw fit, until she could say with all the conviction in the world that he would not betray them. At the end of the day everything came down to money and power and Avis currently possessed both to such levels that she knew she could run the world if she wanted to, but that it also came with far too many enemies to count. The ride to the hospital was done in complete silence, not even her breaths could be heard, but her thoughts were screaming inside the cabin. The car came to a full stop inside the hospital’s parking lot, under the blazing sun and the dark clouds.

-Mrs. Amberg.

-Please, don’t… don’t say it. I know you want to ask but…

-I ain’t going to ask and I ain’t going tell, ma’am.

-Really? – she met his eyes through the rearview mirror, honesty and loyalty shining on them as if they were the banners he carried with him every day of his life.

-Yes. You have been through enough; I won’t add more miseries to your plate. I’ve seen what they can do and I’m not the sort of person that hurts others just because they can, and I can prove it. I took Ms. Kincaid to the studio and drove behind her to make sure she got home alright, so I will wait here for you until you are ready for me to drive you back to your house.

-You… you didn’t have to do that, but I’m thankful you looked out for her. Though I couldn’t ask you to stay and wait for me. It might be hours before I’m ready to leave.

-You ain’t asking ma’am, I’m offering. You go and see your young miss and I’ll be waiting here to take you home. 

She was surrounded by wonderful people and had never seen it until now. A nod would have to suffice as she wasn’t sure her voice wouldn’t crack as she thanked him, a lump forming in her throat, and quickly stepped out with her purse in one hand and her coat in the other. It was as if she hadn’t set foot inside the building in weeks and yet she hadn’t left at all, pushing the doors open until the coolness of the white walls and antiseptic breezes embraced her once again. That was probably one of the smells she would never forget, your blood on her body being the first. Each hallway looked exactly the same, but she knew perfectly well where she was going, finding that the floors had been cleaned after they had left but witnessing the palms of her hands still marking the wall as if she had been clawing at the tiles to escape and perhaps, she had been. Everything she had felt in this room had been raw and out of control, like a dam that had let centuries worth of water flow down the valley, ripping and killing everything the furious stream found in its path, only Death left behind, and she had not wished to face it. But in the end, there had been no other choice but to do so, or at least the part that her mind and body could handle at the moment. She ripped her eyes from the macabre painting and carried on walking, nodding her head politely at the nurses and doctors that greeted her but never stopping to talk with them, your room barely a few feet away from her.

Her hand hovered over the doorknob unsure if she should go in or wait a bit longer, but with each second that she let pass she felt her need to see you grow exponentially and with quiet movements she stepped inside. Everything was still the same, your body on the bed, the ventilator breathing for you, even the horrible blankets that covered your battered frame, but when she got closer, she saw that your cheeks had regained some colour, and your skin didn’t look as pale as before. For some reason she wasn’t going to try to understand, it made her heart leap in her chest. You were even still carrying the mark her lipstick had left on your forehead, making her smile as she picked up the black armchair that rested in the corner and placed it beside your bed. She didn’t know and it was a secret you might carry to your grave, but the instant she had stepped into the room your frazzled and still partially unconscious mind had felt her, from that unmistakable aura that she carried with her and she was completely unaware of to the aromas that floated from her skin to your nostrils, perfumes that comforted and calmed your nerves. Even if your body did not respond to what your mind was trying to say to it you could feel her, hear her, and smell her, wishing and praying that somehow she would touch you and make it all real so that you would believe that this was not just a cruel hallucination you was living. She did not disappoint, and with a tender and caring touch she took your hand in hers and interlaced her fingers with yours as she whispered sweet nothings against your skin, her lips ghosting over it.

If she knew just how much this meant to you, if you could tell her, words would never stop falling from your lips, enfolding her for all eternity, because she had the chance to leave you, to let you die, and she had gone through the Heavens and every single circle of Hell to find you. She had come in like your knight in shining armour and had defeated the dragon that had almost claimed your life and there could never be a gesture as loving and as a powerful as searching for her love all the way to the middle of nowhere knowing that her life would be at risk, but she had not cared. Nothing could ever compare to this, to the scattered memories of her angelic face telling you through tears and pained words that everything would be alright, that you would be fine. Avis’s eyes were glued to your hand, feeling the heat that seeped from your body to hers along with the touch of your palm with all its lines and wrinkles matching hers. Unaware of the effect she had on you, she let her mind drift, her eyelids becoming heavy in exhaustion but with the safety of knowing that you were really there with her, and no one would ever take you away. She had dreamt so many times of taking you back to your home, to that land of crashing waves and orange blossoms that you so loved and carried with you deep in your heart, desiring to see those endless fields of yellow that blended into green in Spring, and to explore every corner of the place that had raised you into the woman you were now. She could almost see it now, the gentle rivers with reeds swaying to the lazy currents as butterflies flew, decorating the skies like swinging petals that played lazy games of catch and chase with the flowers that surrounded them. And there so many. Roses, poppies, lavenders and morning glories, all scattered through deep green and olive trees that provided shade for the small gentle bird, and in between all that beauty and magic, you, standing on the riverbend with your hands stretched out for her to hold onto.

And she would take them. Everywhere you went, she would follow, every mountain you climbed she would do so as well, and she would do it all because she loved you. God, she loved you more than she loved herself, more than actions could ever show and more than words could ever tell. Every night you would appear in her dreams, sweet and caring and always with a smile on your face, saving her from problems that would soon fade into the ether as your hands held onto hers and your lips brushed over hers, washing all her worries away. No storm could ever roar in the sky when she was with you because you were a rain of cherry blossom petals in Springtime, the sound of waves and the cooling waters of a soothing sea in Summer, every brown leaf that fell to the ground in Autumn and each unique snowflake in Winter. The essence of the universe and the first element to ever exist, and she would never believe just how she had been the lucky gal to make you fall in love with her as she fell for you. She could almost feel the way your fingers squeezed her own as you pulled her closer. No, wait, that hadn’t been a product of her imagination, she was sure of it.

Her eyes shot open, woken up from her slumber with a start that had her heart hammering against her ribs, her gaze watching your intertwined hands. Your tips moved as the pressure suddenly increased. Yes! Your fingers were indeed squeezing hers! The chair scraped the floor slightly as Avis stood on slightly shaky legs, joy and panic flowing through her veins, but even in that frazzled state of mind she never let go of your hand. You were fighting against the odds, walking through the darkness to get to her because she was there, real and you needed to see for yourself if she was fine. Just as her head turned to look at your face, searching for any other sign that you were coming back to her, your eyelids fluttered for an instant. You were right there, on the edge of the abyss waiting for something that you weren’t sure what it was to take that leap of faith and jump, to gather her in your arms and whisper to the tear-stained face you had last seen that she had been right, and you were alright. Avis was quiet for a moment until your eyelids fluttered again, and without even realising it that raspy, velvety voice of hers dropped the push you needed to jump as she pleaded you to wake up. Her angelic face had been the last thing your eyes had seen; it would be the first as well. Like a miracle your eyes opened.