#stumbled upon this today and damn it’s too accurate

[acethetically-bway]

The Gallaghers as dysfunctional family archetypes

Source: Friel, John and Linda (1998). “Adult children: the secrets of dysfunctional families” pp. 57-61.

[spanishrose2002]

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

I don’t like things that involve children/underage people engaging in inappropriate behavior. I also don’t like non-consensual stuff, and if I do it because of a certain reason in a fic, I warn heavily for it.  I just prefer not to have those kinds of things in my stories, so I certainly wouldn’t write them as tropes or anything like that.   💲 Would you ever open commissions? I certainly would if someone wanted something original.  However, I mostly write fanfiction, so that means that I cannot do that.  It’s illegal and unethical.  I know some fanfic writers do it and have done it, in the past, but it really threatens the whole community, and I wouldn’t do that.   🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories? I spend way too much time researching for some fics.  I know more about some topics, now, than I ever really need to know--like the mating of cows. 🏆 What's your most popular fic? I could be wrong, but I would say it’s probably Broken Mirrors.  I think that’s my only really popular fic and, to be honest, it has long since kind of lost it’s charm for the community.  It’s just old hat, at this point.  It had its day, though. 🎃 Do you write fics for certain holidays? Which is your favorite holiday inspired fic? I adore holiday fics.  I write them year ‘round and for every ship that I write.  I would love to write more of them.  I am a fall and winter holiday fic person. Which one is my favorite?  That’s probably impossible to say.  I’ve written quite a few that I love for different reasons.  I’d say that they all have their charm, at least for me. 🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which? I mean, at this point, the running joke for anyone who reads several of my fics is when is the baby coming in.  That one is funny, too, because I have been harassed so much, in the past, for writing pregnancy/baby/kid fics that it almost became an act of rebellion to accept that I like what I like, and I’m going to do what I want.   My fics are like King cakes.  Where’s the baby?  You know it’s in there. 🎨 How do you feel about fan art of your stories? I would adore any art that my fics inspired someone to create!   📈 How many fics do you have? Currently, I have 421.  There are a few one shots that I hope to write, maybe even today.  Several of my fics are 400,000 to 500,000 words, and a great deal of them are at least 100,000 to 200,000 words. 🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants? I do a little of both. 👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please! Does that mean not yet started?  I don’t have any in the can right now that aren’t in progress.  I can tell you about Rupture, which is the latest one.  It’s going to be a lovely little fantasy-esque adventure full of warmth, found family, friends, and humor.   🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip? “Fine,” he said.  “But—You hold my hand.  If we get snatched into some other world, or universe, or whatever, I’ma end up in the same damn place as you.” 

😬 Which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon? I’d rather nobody I know irl see any of my fics unless I invite them to do so.   ✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to? Family themes, friend themes, babies and children, redemption, overcoming trauma, acceptance and love...etc.   📚 Would you ever want to turn writing into a career? I wish I could!  (Fiction writing, that is.  I chose to step away from the non-fiction writing that could have been part of my career.) ⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter? If I’m inspired (and especially if someone is hyping me up), I can realistically do about 8,000 to 10,000 words of fic on a weekend day.   🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)? I struggle with A LOT!  I really struggle with smut and action, but there’s a lot that I’m just not very good at writing.  LOL  I still do it, though, because it amuses me.   💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart? The Roses Still Grow in Georgia and Winter, even though they have their heartwarming moments, too.   

[chxckandmxte]

@alphateamsfinest continued from here : X

☣ - Jill

Not to mention she's scouted this location, knows the exits and knows how long it'll take her to run to her closest weapon stash. There's not the time and patience today to scout a new location, get that uneasy edge while she looks around, count people- this is safer if a more annoying option due to the current occupants.

But damn, does Kennedy look like utter shit. It's no secret that half of the people at BSAA had their vices, dealing with constant death and decay ate at a person. But seeing this side of him makes her lip curl, makes that voice in the back of her head that sounds faintly like an ex-captain spark up. She rolls her shoulders and tries to get out the tight pinch. Jill's speaking up, because she has to know- is this normal? If it is- if it is she's not sure if she can trust him out in the field.

'Golden girl' considers for longer than she should about knocking his ass right off of that stool. Glorified pincushion sounds more accurate, but she's not often one to dispute someone's ideas about her. She sits down two stools from him, a need for personal space that isn't placated by alcohol. She takes a sip of her long island as soon as it's put in front of her, watches Kennedy for signs of how inebriated he is. "So is this a normal day for you? Or what's got you so riled up that bad isn't even the half of it?"

Clearly not too bothered about his comments about her and the BSAA, he expected her to sit down. She just stumbled upon the top agent within the DSO, sitting in a sketchy dive bar and drinking himself stupid, so why wouldn't she join him? Like everyone else who happened to find him on his day-drinking binge. (everyone else being: Chris and Rebecca) Of all people that had to find him this time, it had to be Jill Valentine, not that it really mattered in the end, he wasn't about to hide his reason for being here -- at least, not all of it anyway, there were some things that were none of her business, things he was sure that she would no doubt judge him for -- at least that was what he thought. Leon never got to interact with Valentine much, the odd few times there would be moments where the DSO would exchange information with the BSAA, both digitally and in person, which was how Leon met Jill. Redfield was always busy being since he was Captain after all. He didn't know much about her besides the many few things Chris had mentioned about her the odd times they had met up in the past -- not counting they're more recent interaction though.

Why was everyone so curious about his personal life? Why did they always ask things when they found him in bars? Maybe he just wanted to grab a drink and kill the night, or maybe, he just wanted something to stop himself from continuing to feel like this. What he was doing here was none of their business, yet he was still constantly asked the same questions, which was the reason he started going to these more rough and shady looking bars, the kind where serial killers and drug dealers would probably dine at, hoping no one he knew would find him here, and in the terrible shape he was in mentally. Why here? Well, because of how shady it was here, everyone always kept to themselves, not even looking his direction once, which made it suitable place for him to try and drown his sorrows in peace. Curling his fingers over the shot glass, Leon's grip around the cup had tightened the moment she asked him the dreaded question, even if it was in her own way of doing it, the question was always one or the other. 'What are you doing here?' or 'What happened to you?' The words and phrasing could be completely different, but he knew it was still the same question regardless, he knew she'd ask him not long after seeing him here.

Convinced that everyone he knew was out here to heavily judge his actions, he started to push everyone away, all because of this deep-seeded selfish fear he had of everyone that looked up to him in some way, being completely disappointed with how he turned out -- just another washed up hero who was a shell of the man he used to be. surrounded in his own misery -- floating through life like a ghost invisible to the crowd and the world around him, lost in his troubles. These demons he had that seemed to beat him black and blue on the inside on a daily basis, leaving him to feel like utter shit afterward. And just like a bad song playing on a broken stereo stuck on repeat, this dangerous cycle of self-destruction.. would just continue over and over until the very day he eventually drops dead due to his bad habit. For a moment, his expression softens up, and it almost seems like he was willing to talk, but that only lasted for a second before it shifted back into an annoyed grimace, instead of being honest, his walls around him once again go up, falling back into these fake thoughts of everyone here to judge and mock rather than show genuine care.

While a bit hesitant at first, slowly, Leon looks back up at Jill, blue eyes meet her gaze before they shift to avert away from her as if he's unable to hold eye contact in fear of her already judging him. After some more hesitation, frowning lips part to finally speak, his voice taking a surprisingly somber tone rather than an aggravated one -- almost like he wanted to tell her, but stopped himself at the last minute.

[{ ☣ }] - "....Why do you wanna know huh? You tryin' to find some juicy lunchbreak gossip to tell your BSAA buddies when you head back in or somethin'?"

A brief stint of silence after his words before adding to his sentence.

[{ ☣ }] - "You barely know me.. so why the hell would you care?"

[loverhymeswith]

I LOVE the Takeshi Private Detective AU fics! I was wondering if maybe you could do one where his assistant reader gets kidnapped by someone relating to a case and he’s goes a little feral to get them back and when he does rescue them they’re kinda surprised at how caring and protective he’s being?

Home | Takeshi Kovacs x Reader

People Disappear Here

Word Count: 1,519 words

Warnings: Kidnapping, injury, gunfire, bullets, blood, death

A/N: Thank you for the request, Anon! I loved this so much I had to write it straight away. It turned out to be much longer than I intended. I hope you enjoy.

Joel Taglist:@weallhaveadestiny @a-reader-and-a-writer @skvatnavle @babblydrabbly @yespolkadotkitty @heresathreebee @11thstreetvigilante @fairchildflag @christinasyellowflowers @immyownlittlebitch @lavenderluna10

Tipping your head back against the cold, damp wall of your makeshift cell, you sigh into the darkness. This was never supposed to happen. Kovacs is going to kill you. At least, he will if these men don’t beat him to it.

Your thoughts have been persistently circling around the private detective for the duration of your imprisonment. How many times has he cautioned you against poking your nose into certain cases? About sniffing around without him there for support - for protection. For the most part, you’d listened, had heeded his multiple warnings, sticking to the work he assigned you. But not today. Today, the itch – the intrigue - had grown too strong to ignore.

The lead you’d stumbled upon was simply too good – too hot – to wait for Kovacs to return from his own investigation. Because the clock was ticking, and you knew that timing could be critical. Poe hadn’t been around to talk you out of it, either. So, you’d locked up the office and set out to explore the docks, naively assuming that it couldn’t hurt to take a quick look, right?

As it turns out, it did hurt. Quite a bit, in fact. Someone had swiftly taken you out with a blow to the head before you’d even made it past the first shipping container. You regained consciousness some time later, only to discover that you’d been locked inside one of the damn things, all alone in the dark.

Your cell phone and camera had been seized, leaving you with no mean of contacting Kovacs or the rest of the outside world. You’d hammered away against the solid metal walls of the container, screaming and hollering for someone to let you out until your voice was hoarse and your fists were bloody. But there was no sign that anyone was listening. No one came.

Eventually you’d given up, slumping into the corner and nursing your throbbing headache, which is where you find yourself now. With nothing to do but wallow in shame and self-pity, you’ve been imagining how your conversation – or perhaps more accurately, your confrontation- with Kovacs will play out, if and when he ever finds you.

Oh, he’ll be pissed, that’s for sure. He might even fire you. The thought sends a wave of fear rushing through you, even more so than your current state of incarceration. You can’t afford to lose this job. Not when it seems as if Kovacs is finally starting to tolerate you. You suppose that will all change now, though.

Your eyes have slowly begun to adjust to the low lighting, but it’s impossible to tell how much time has passed when the gunfire and shouting begins. You can hear bullets pinging off the metal containers and your first thought is to wonder at your rotten luck. Getting caught in the crossfire of some small-time gang rivalry seems a fitting way to top off an already shitty day. You consider shouting for help again, but there’s no telling what might be waiting for you on the outside.

Then you hear his voice.

“Where the fuck is she?”

A shiver runs along your spine, turning your blood to ice, and it’s not the result of your cold, rudimentary cell. His tone is clipped, unyielding. The assurance of death, sudden and unrelenting, clings to every syllable. If he wasn’t here to liberate you, you’re certain you would be quaking in your boots. You don’t need to see Kovacs’ face to picture his expression. You’ve glimpsed the promise of violence lurking behind his hazel eyes more times than you can count, only it’s usually you or Poe who are on the receiving end.

More shouting and another shot fired. Then, silence. Until you hear heavy booted footsteps approaching the container. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest, despite knowing for certain who and what lies on the other side of your cell. Freedom. Retribution.

The door is wrenched open. Temporarily blinded by the light, you blink furiously until the world comes back into focus. Standing there in the entrance, gilded by the setting sun at his back, framing him like some kind of avenging angel, is Kovacs.

You can’t help yourself. His name escapes your lips in a short sharp gasp of relief. “Tak.”

He prowls inside, his long coat billowing after him as his harsh gaze sweeps over you. “Are you ok?” The ferocity that had been so clear in his voice only moments ago has given way to something else. Something that sounds suspiciously like fear.

You touch your fingers to the back of your head as he approaches, wincing as they come away bloody. “Think I’ll live.”

Kovacs holds out his large hand and pulls you to your feet with ease. “What were you thinking?” he murmurs, straightening you and brushing the dirt off your jacket in a surprisingly gentle gesture. “You could have been killed.” It’s unnerving how there’s still no anger in his tone.

“I guess I wasn’t thinking, not clearly anyway,” you admit, preparing yourself for the lecture that is sure to follow any minute now. You’ve had plenty of time to stew, to accept that your actions might have been on the foolish side. Kovacs wasn’t trying to treat you like a child when he told you not to meddle. He knows more than most just how dangerous this city is. You understand now that he didn’t want you to get hurt.

“How did you find me?”

His hand remains in place, curved softly around your elbow, when he replies. “You left the files out on my desk. Wasn’t too much of a stretch.”

You nod, making a mental note to be more careful should you ever need to hide anything from him in the future. “I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

Kovacs’ lips quirk into that now-familiar ghost of a smile; the one that sets your nerves alight. “That’s one word for it.” His eyes sweep over you, assessing you one last time. Satisfied that you're ok, he hands you your cell phone and camera. You’re amazed to find them in one piece. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

Home.

The word sounds so inviting on his lips. You wonder if he has any idea of what it means to you. That as far as you’re concerned, for a long time now, your home has been wherever he is.

Kovacs ushers you out of the container, a broad hand splayed against the small of your back. It’s entirely unnecessary, you want to tell him. You’re perfectly capable of walking by yourself, but a small part of you hopes he doesn’t remove it. The weight and warmth of his touch is a comforting presence and although you’ll never admit it, you had been terrified, all alone in the dark.

It’s impossible to miss the scattered bullet casings and the bloodstained asphalt. Fallen bodies block your path as Kovacs leads you away from the docks, and you know that you should be horrified. That he has slaughtered the men here in cold blood, because of you. But you can’t find it in yourself to be afraid. Not of him. Never of him.

He halts before you reach the car, turning you around to face him with his hand gently squeezing your waist. Standing this close, you have to crane your neck up to meet his eye. The longer lengths of his hair have fallen across his brow as he stares down at you and you have to clench your fists, fighting off the urge to reach up and sweep your fingers through them.

When he speaks, there is still no anger in his voice. Just concern. “Promise me you won’t do anything like this again.”

Somehow flustered by the fact that he is yet to admonish you, that there is no sign of criticism or reproach coming your way any time soon, you begin to ramble. “I’m sorry, I know you said not to get involved with these cases and I didn’t mean to. Really, I didn’t. I hope I didn’t mess everything up for you, I just couldn’t-”

He cuts you off by tucking an errant strand of hair behind your ear, his calloused fingers lingering for a moment too long as they brush against your cheek. You freeze, startled by the unexpected action and barely able to breathe.

“It isn’t about the case. It’s about you.” His eyes shutter, thick lashes kissing his skin as he forces out the next words. “Couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”

The pair of you find yourselves trapped in a tableau, his hand still firmly in place around your waist. It’s unlike him to be so candid. It’s unlike you not to reply with a witty retort. Hypnotised by the intensity of his gaze, you will him to look away first.

In the end, you’re saved by the buzzing of his cell phone. Almost begrudgingly, he pulls it from his pocket, but his eyes crease in faint amusement as he reads whatever is on the screen.

“Poe’s on the warpath. You might want to keep a low profile when we get back.”

[papergirllife]

Yuta Nakamoto, Mark Lee

Chapter 5

Venom! Yuta x human! Mark x human! reader

Warnings : suggestive, making out, tentacles, y'all know the drill

A/N : sorry for the late update, college has been kicking my ass, but here I am, so yeah... Enjoy!

Synopsis :

Mark thought he’d never find love with Yuta living inside his body, having his life turned upside down when he met the alien, or more accurately, was ‘chosen’ by Yuta during an afternoon of a very normal university tour which turned out to be a tour to the biotechnology company he had to destroy to save the world.

So definitely, with the hero duties and school, and the fact that he's no longer your typical university kid, love was sort of out of the picture for him. But what happens when he stumbles upon a girl who loves him and his alien buddy?

The next day, you woke up with Yuta’s limbs curled around you, according to him, something that happens every time he falls asleep, his consciousness no longer controlling his extra limbs. You shuffled half awake to the dining table where Mark had bought topokki from the old lady who sells it in her cart a few blocks down.

“Here, as an apology for leaving him with you overnight,” Mark says as he pushes you your bowl of the food, a hand out to hold yours, ready to take back his buddy.

“It’s fun being with him, you didn’t have to, but thanks for the food,” you said as you sat down, reaching your hand over to connect with Mark’s, a burst of sparks igniting, don’t know if it’s because of Yuta’s powers running through you or your existing tension with Mark, but unlike the other day where Yuta immediately flowed to you, he doesn’t seem to want to go back to Mark.

“Time to go back to your body buddy, Yuta,” you said, a teasing undertone.

‘Ugh, fine. I’ll miss you though, miss touching you, hearing you moan my name, seeing you cum...

“Okay, that’s enough, Yuta. I’ll miss you too, among other things,” you said before you felt Yuta take his leave, a shock running through your arm before it fades.

“Wow, this feels better than coffee,” Mark says as he feels himself being recharged by Yuta’s pthing

“You would’ve been dead if it wasn’t Yuta’s powers healing you everyday,” you teased.

“I’ll probably look like my zombie classmates,” Mark says, eyes lit up, smiling, locking with yours momentarily before he shies away and turns to his bowl of spicy food.

You decided to the laze around the house today when your body still felt a little bit sore from last night’s event’s. Yuta’s power had healed you quite a bit, but your swollen nipples and clit still felt a bit sore from his tentacles, the sight of the sucker ended things attached to your sensitive parts sends a shiver down your spine.

You thought you had hidden it well, the slight ache, but when you had stood up for a glass of water whilst gaming with the two boys, Mark noticed.

“Hey, why are you limping like that?” Mark asked, pausing the game, making you choke on your glass of water.

“Oh, um, I slept in the wrong position last night, so my legs are a bit sore,” you lied, hoping this excuse would be sufficient, sitting back down next to Mark, waiting for him to resume the game.

“Why? You slept like a pig last night?” Mark jokes, lightly shoving the cushion pillow which was on his lap into your arms to crawl to the coffee table where his control was resting at.

The harsh pressure against your chest, had you recoiling because of your still sensitive nipples, that and there isn’t a bra to shield you from the force.

“Are you okay?” Mark asked when he saw you flinching at the slight movement. Damn his observant eyes.

“I think it’s my hormones, I’m just gonna go take a nap,” you say before you scurry off to the direction of your room, limping as quickly as you could, shutting the door behind you.

“What’s up with her?” Mark wonders aloud.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ Yuta teases before he chuckles evilly, just like the first time when Yuta first mentioned to Mark that humans are yummy.

“Don’t tell me you snuck out while she was sleeping, you know how dangerous that is!” Mark lectures, assuming that’s what happened, bless his innocent mind.

‘First things first, I wouldn’t be dumb enough to want the people in Korea to think there’s a female venom. Secondly, even if I did went out, do you think I would’ve gotten hurt in the chest area?’ Yuta retorted.

“Wait, oh my god! You guys fucked?” Mark asked in shock, the last part lowered into a scandalised whisper like how those aunties in the market gossip about each other’s lives.

‘Just so you know, it was amazing, female anatomy is amazing, orgasms feel way stronger, or maybe you just suck at jerking off.’

“You didn’t knock her...

‘That can only happen if I’m fucking her with your body, which from what I can see, won’t be happening any time soon if you keep hiding like this. I made the first move, you better finish it, Markie.’

“I wanted to take things slow, bro, you know I don’t see her as anything casual,” Mark grumbled, disappointed at Yuta for foiling Mark’s plans.

‘You think I didn’t take your feelings for her in consideration? I like her too, and I can bet 10 pieces of wagyu beef that she adores you just as much as you do,’ Yuta explains before Mark decides to really get mad at him like that one time when he ate his aunt’s goldfish.

“If she’s interested she would’ve made a move,” Mark says, shoulder slumped as he looks out the window of Seoul’s bustling street.

‘She did make moves, didn’t you notice she keeps stealing your shirts and staying home to game with your sorry ass whenever Hyuck’s busy?’ Yuta was getting impatient at how blind Mark was towards your advances and blatant heart eyes.

“You wouldn’t know, girls do that all the time,” Mark says, but thinking back, his friends female friends only stole his jackets when the weather gets cold when they’re out and about, not tees, and returning as soon as possible, unlike you, who wears them for as long as you can until Mark asks to have his clothes back.

‘Finally you’re connecting the dots. You’re handsome, Mark, have a little bit more confidence,’ Yuta reminded Mark, sometimes he can't believe how humans get so blinded by love, and to the degree where they couldn't tell how attractive they are? Maybe Yuta needs to replenish some brain cells for Mark.

On the second last night of both your semester breaks, you and Mark dread going back to classes, wandering the quiet streets of Seoul until late at night, not too late, just slightly past ten when you checked your phone for the time.

The two of you came out of a large mall in the heart of Seoul just before closing time, deciding to continue the night by heading to the ice cream shop at the next street. Mark was humming one of his frequent songs he likes to play on his guitar, show me love, you don’t know the lyrics, so you just walked in silence, appreciating his singing voice, not exactly Ed Sheeran, but it was comforting.

Suddenly, as the two of you round a familiar office block area, a scream breaks out. Mark looks up, zooming in on the high floors that were on fire, people still in office attire run out, some escaped, but everyone was halted in their tracks when gunshots rang out, squatting down as ordered by the masked people.

Mark quickly pulls you away to hide behind a boulder, most probably a deco, a hand covering your head to lower it, just in case if anyone saw the two of you. Mark looks up, scanning the area.

He sees the lobby being flooded with people, being forced on their knees, automated guns pointing at their heads. A man in his late fifties was being pushed to the middle of the group of men, his suit wrinkled, eyes cowering in fear.

“What’s the pin to the safe?!” the ringleader demanded, loaded barrel pressing onto the old man’s bald head, a finger on the trigger.

“I don’t know! Only the higher ups know each pin! They don’t tell us managers!” the old man pleaded, hands clasped as he was praying, praying for his life to not be taken away by the monster standing in front of him.

Mark averts his gaze to check up on you, only to see that you had been looking the whole time, eyes locking onto yours, a silent message passed as he passes you his bag.

“Call the cops, I have to do something before they decided to blast off that old man’s head,” Mark says before he transform into Yuta, the Venom that everyone knows.

Yuta leaps into the air, hands hitting the pavement as he rushes into the scene on all fours. You could see hope returning into the peoples’ eyes. You recalled what Mark had told you, dialling 119 on your mobile as you see the masked men begin to fire at Yuta, but of course, guns have no effect on his skin, Yuta merely flicked them out like watermelon seeds on a summer day. Yuta began to attack, willing his ‘extra limbs’ to snatch their guns away before he knocks them down on the ground, most of them fainting on impact, a crack resonating whenever one goes down. Some put up with more of a fight, getting back up with a dagger, trying their best to jab it at Yuta.

Yuta began to grow annoyed at their roach like behaviour, deciding on tying them up with his own limbs, dangling his victims upside down in mid air as he continues fighting, when most of them have surrendered or were in Yuta’s clutches, you thought it was safe to head home, and you could hear sirens from a distance, until you see a mad man rushing out from one of the vans parked outside the building, he had what seemed like a flamethrower in hand, while Yuta was distracted with questioning the criminals near the lift lobby.

You quickly ran out, knowing fire was Yuta’s weakness, the man was running towards Yuta now, you stepped foot in the lobby, only one or two feet behind the man, you scanned your surroundings, spotting a disarmed dagger on the ground, you scooped it up and threw it at the man, telling yourself that it was no different from throwing a dart at the pub you did many times before.

You hit the back of his neck, not a good enough aim to kill him, but it definitely did anger him. He looked back, roaring at you before he decided to aim the flamethrower at you, you quickly dashed to the side, some of the staff who had stayed behind to patch themselves up shouted for Yuta, getting his attention.

The masked man adverted his attention to Yuta now, flamethrower in one hand while the other was a gun, both aiming at Yuta. Yuta, in the midst of avoiding the flames, had some parts of Mark’s body exposed, a bullet had brushed past his exposed arm, Yuta recoiling at the pain. You picked up a nearby fire extinguisher, the flamethrower must’ve been very loud, or you were just stealthy, because he couldn’t hear you when you had sneaked up behind him once more, swinging the tank at full force like those weights you did on arm days, a loud crack resonating behind his head before he passes out, blood seeping out of his mask.

You drop the tank in shock, scared that you might’ve killed him, but Yuta was mad, he reached for the limp body, seemingly opening his mouth, his eyes were in slits, angry that this excuse of a man had decided to hurt you.

“No! Don’t! If you eat him you would be viewed as a villain too, put him down, please,” you begged, if Yuta decides to eat him, you’re not sure if the authorities would choose to penalise him.

“Fine, I’ll finish up, wait for me at dessert, I’m starving,” he says as quietly as he could, flinging the man to the side before he picks up the flamethrower and the fire extinguisher.

You agreed and as you left, you heard Yuta ask where’s the security room before you heard a minor blast, but none of the staff were bothered by it, just grateful that their lives were not at stake.

At the ice cream shop, you were surprised that Yuta had transformed into his human form instead of Mark being the one walking in, his left hand hidden behind his back.

You quickly retrieved the mini first aid kit that Mark always carries around, bandaging him up while Yuta devours the taro ice cream waffle. When Yuta was done, he quickly ordered a banana split, shocking you.

“Yuta are you sure you can finish that much?” you asked as you ate your cup of raspberry sorbet, knowing that it’s a rather large portion.

“Pretty sure, and we could always share, would you mind passing me the tequila we bought just now? Mark wants to sleep because the pain’s too much for him,” Yuta requested before you heard him mumbling about manning up to Mark.

Yuta downs half of its contents, sighing in content when he stops hearing Mark whining about him being careless with the bullet, he loves the boy, but sometimes he just needs some space too.

“He’s out? Wouldn’t he have a hangover tomorrow?” you asked, stealing a bit of Yuta’s banana split.

“As long as I go to sleep in this body he won’t, the alcohol dissolves way quicker even for my mortal form,” Yuta explained.

“Must be nice to be an alien, are all of you as attractive and flirty?” you asked after placing a spoon of vanilla ice cream in your mouth, sitting back on the cushioned seat, admiring Yuta’s sharp features. Mark doesn’t let Yuta out all that often, and every time he does, he takes your breath away.

“I’m one of the youngest of my kind, our planet was bigger, but not that habitable, but I don’t think any of them are as sexy as me,” Yuta says, moving his body closer to yours, his hand coming up to ice cream smeared on your bottom lip, bringing it to his own lips, sucking his finger with a pop, a smirk appearing on his face when he sees how diluted your pupils were.

“Come on, let’s get home, I’ll give you a piggy ride,” Yuta said, knowing how you enjoy riding behind his back.

When you had asked why Mark hadn’t appeared the next day, you knew something was up with the usual bubbly boy. He only appeared when he had went out to hang out with his best friend, Hyuck. You were already disappointed when Yuta had rejected sleeping with you last night, saying that he didn’t want to exert any more pressure on the wound and something along the lines of you not being ready.

As Monday came around and Mark had met up with you for your shared session in the gym, you knew he was avoiding you, but why?

When dinner came around, you took the initiative to order pizza, knowing that he can’t avoid you if the two of you needed to share dinner, but when the pizza came, Mark just sent Yuta out to fetch his dinner for him, knowing Mark’s antics by now, you waited for Yuta to walk into Mark’s room, but just before the door shut, you barged into his room, thankfully Mark had transformed back into himself.

Mark was surprised when you came in, slamming his door behind you, even going as far as locking it, Mark thought he was dreaming, but unlike the plotline in his dreams, you weren’t kissing him, instead you were glaring at him, which obviously meant he isn’t having one of his favourite dreams, unfortunately.

“Why are you avoiding me Mark?!” you demanded to know, your fingers pulling at his sweater’s strings, jerking his head down to meet your height, then Mark remembers the reason he should be avoiding you.

“Because I’m still mad that you put yourself in danger again, after I specifically asked you not to!” Mark retorted.

“I just wanted to save your sorry ass, and not even a thank you!” you said, a finger jutting at Mark’s clavicle, you can’t believe what you just heard, what’s gotten into the sweet Mark you used to know?

“Thank you! Happy?” Mark asked, his hand slamming against the door behind you, not loud enough to make you flinch, but the proximity between the two of you definitely gotten smaller, his plate of pizza slices was placed carelessly on the side of the bed.

You could barely breathe from being this close from Mark, heartbeat getting out of control as you try to keep your eyes on his, but instead, they darted downwards, stealing glances at Mark’s lips before you caught yourself and looked back into his eyes.

Mark could see the flittering movement of your eyes as he did the same, your teeth were chewing at the bottom right corner of your lips as you tried to calm yourself, but the action sent Mark’s thoughts spiralling, oh how he wants to have a bite of your lips too. Mark must have been too obvious because next thing he knew, he was caught by you red handed.

“Why are you looking at me like that Mark?” you asked, breaking the silence. You take in Mark’s perfectly sculpted face, from his lips, to his high cheek bones, stopping at his dilated eyes. You leaned in closer to Mark, lips almost touching, a hand balancing yourself on his belt loop, the pressure of your touch sending Mark into a frenzy.

“If you want me, you can have me, Mark,” you said, giving him the green light.

Mark pushed all hesitations and consequences aside, slamming his lips against yours, biting onto your bottom lip harshly, the action had your legs buckling. Mark, who had sensed your slight change in posture, moves his hand behind the dip of your back, pulling you flush against him, momentarily breaking the kiss to manoeuvre you over to his bed, the plate of pizza would’ve fallen on the ground if it wasn’t for Yuta’s help, placing it onto Mark’s desk.

You squeaked at the quick change of setting, Mark’s quick movements making you confused as to where you’re at. Mark takes advantage of your surprise, capturing your lips in his once more, his knee situated in between your legs, groaning into the kiss when his bare knee came in contact with your panties, they’re definitely wet from what he could feel.

You lifted your hand upwards, sliding it beneath his sweater, almost moaning when you felt his defined muscles, but when you tried to count whether he was a six pack or an eight pack, Mark tugged your hand back down, locking your wrist down beside the pillow beneath your head.

“Stay,” he ordered before he let go, pushing your shirt up to reveal your bare chest to him, your nipples erect at the switch of temperature. Mark takes one into his mouth, sucking onto your bud eagerly, his tongue flicking it before alternating between sucking and lightly biting it, his touch had you wanting more, arching your chest into his touch.

When Mark began stimulating your other breast with his hand at a similar pace, your hand came up to hold anchor yourself by holding a few locks of his hair in between your fingers, pushing him impossibly closer to your chest. Mark immediately ceased all movement, you whine at the loss of the pleasure, wondering why he would stop like this.

“I told you to keep your hands to yourself,” Mark said before spanking the smooth flesh of your thigh as a warning.

You nodded at his words, pulling your hands away to put them at your sides. Mark gives you a rather stern look before he goes to pull off your panties, a hand parting your folds to stare at the pretty shade of pink.

“Fucking perfect,” he muttered before he delved into your heat, giving you quick licks at your slit as his hand was in search for your clit. When he finds it, his other hand that was holding down your squirming hips moved to your bundle of nerves, drawing quick circles on it with his thumb, the roughness of the pad of his finger had your legs jolting at the sensitivity.

Mark’s ego swells at your reaction, quickly slipping in a finger inside you, his finger going in circular motions to feel your tight velvet walls sucking him in, he patiently takes his time to prod around, smirking when he thrusts at a spot that had you moaning his name.

Mark slips in two extra fingers when yours arousal started dripping down onto his bed, staining his sheets. He moves his fingers in a come-hither motion, brushing past the roof of your walls, the most sensitive area inside you, you could feel the build up of the coil in your abdomen, a little more nudging and you might struggle to not cum.

Mark could tell you are struggling not to cum too quickly, but he desperately wants to see you at your most euphoric state, so he inserts his tongue next to his fingers, fucking his tongue into you, the warm wet muscle caught you by surprise, writhing in his hold as you felt yourself getting dangerously closer, eyes rolling back at the sensation.

That’s when Yuta made himself known, two tentacles slithering to your neglected chest, the suckers attaching themselves at your nipples, the natural slimy slick on Yuta’s flesh leaving a coat of slime lick substance before it begins sucking, it started lightly at first, until Mark uttered the words ‘speed up’ as he came up to take a breather before going back to slurping at the mess he made, awaiting for your release which came only a few seconds later.

You whimpered both Yuta’s and Mark’s name like a mantra as you felt yourself convulse, walls closing over Mark’s fingers and tongue as you felt your waves of release crash over you, straight into Mark’s awaiting mouth, drinking the sweet nectar like a man who was dying of thirst. Mark generously rode out your high, fingers beginning to slow down as you came to a stop.

‘I want to taste her in person,’ Mark heard Yuta say before he felt himself being retracted from the outside world, looking at everything through Yuta’s eyes.

“Hi, baby,” Yuta said, surprising you.

Yuta attaches his yet to be fully transformed tongue, aka his long alien tongue into you after he realised Mark had drank up the rest at the outer area of your lower lips, slowly sliding it deep inside you, coating his long sharp-ended tongue in your remaining juices, the thickness of his tongue had you whining at the overstimulation, pushing his head away.

“No more, baby, don’t worry,” Yuta said as he reaches up to brush away your hair that was stuck on your face, swooping down for a long kiss, his tongue now back to normal. You close your eyes, letting yourself feel the plumpness of his lips, but when you opened them once more, it was Mark who was in his place now, smiling when you realised before releasing your lips.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and reheat the pizza,” Mark said before he reaches an arm beneath your legs, taking you into his connected bathroom where there was a tub, given, since it’s the master bedroom.

Yuta extends his limbs to run the bathe for you, testing the water before pouring in bottles so quickly you can’t even see what was what. Mark settled you in before he sat at the edge, washing you as Yuta washes your hair. You welcomed the peaceful silence, before Mark decided he needed to explain himself.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lose my shit or ignore you, well not on bad intentions anyway, I was just really mad that you could’ve gotten hurt,” Mark explained, his gaze still trained on your legs as he washes them, he couldn’t meet your eyes, and he felt like an absolute coward, “I thought if we grew apart then we would no longer hang out, then the chances of me putting you in danger would be lower,” Mark finished off with a heave of his breath, it was hard admitting those words, but he can feel his once tensed shoulders slacking.

“No matter how strong and powerful you are Mark, there will always be days where you need help. Just imagine if I hadn’t stepped in to help you the other day, the amount of guilt I’ll feel if you had gotten seriously hurt would be ten times worse than the guilt you feel now. You’re not responsible for my safety, Mark, I’m a grown adult, I can take care of myself,” you said in a gentle tone, knowing that he must have been stressing himself about this countless of times now.

Mark jerks his head up at a particular sentence you said, eyes wide in surprise.

“But I want to be responsible for your safety,” Mark said before he realised the words he had uttered accidentally, slapping a hand over his mouth.

You were confused by his words, did he mean as a friend? Something more? Is he confessing? Where do the two of you stand after this? Friends don’t know the way they taste after all.

“What are you trying to say Mark?” you asked.

“I...,” Mark didn’t know what to say, should he just spill his feelings out in the open for you? What if you didn’t like him? What if Yuta’s wrong? Before he could dwell on it further, Yuta extends a tiny limb out, poking his temple harshly.

“Okay, okay, fuck’s sake, Yuta! I like you, I like you... that’s why I want to be responsible of you...” Mark said, trailing his sentence, anxious to how you’ll react.

You laughed at his goofy self, hand reached out to hold his busy hand, “I like you too, Mark,” those words immediately made Mark feel better, he felt like he won the lotto, his long time crush, actually likes him back, the girl he had always thought that was too cool for him.

That sweet silent clarity was broken by Yuta who had extended a limb out, attaching it to your ear just like the many times he wanted to speak to you.

‘I like you, too, but I think you’ve known all along.’

This came to you as not much of a surprise, you and Yuta were always quite obvious about each other’s attraction.

“I like you, too, Yuta,” you said before you lunged at Mark, kissing him squarely on the lips.

Mark gasps, shocked at your sudden action, the water splashing around, cracking up the two of you when you realised Mark’s shirt is wet now. Mark kisses you back eagerly when he collected himself, smiling into the kiss, but when you tried to drag him in the tub, Mark pulls away.

“Wait, wait, you haven’t had dinner and you get gastric whenever you starve, we have to eat first,” Mark reminds you, knowing all too well your stomach cramps when the food’s late.

“Fuck it,” you said, dismissing your hunger, reaching forward to tug at Mark’s shirt once again, but his strong hands stopped yours.

“No, nope, eat first,” Mark said, before reaching for the shower head, washing your hair, you heave a sigh and pout, guess you’ll just have to wait, at least you won’t be too sore tomorrow, if only you still have the energy to ravage him later.

P.s : things about to get real in the next part ;)

[kkaeyva]

work of art

𐐪𐑂 includes: delusional corrupted!albedo

𐐪𐑂 summary: even when the world ends, you will always be part of his canvas.

𐐪𐑂 genres + warnings: angst, major character death, blood mention, swearing, spider mention, food mention, that’s about it i think

𐐪𐑂 note: today i woke up and chose violence on readers’ hearts

𐐪𐑂 word count: 1.3k

albedo’s eyes flutter open to welcome the presence of the morning sun filtering through the window. he hums something quite monotone as he lifts the covers off of him, sitting up to observe the room, as he always does.

“good morning, love,” he presses a gentle kiss to your skin and tries not to flinch when his lips meet glass, cold like it’s been frosted over from chilly winter air. the blonde makes a mental note to make you a warm coffee, maybe something to wake you up— but for now, he’ll focus on himself first. (you are still asleep, after all.)

his blue eyes dig into the bathroom mirror, just barely under enough to penetrate the surface of the cold glass like a pebble into a still lake. he recognizes the person who stares back at him, though he’s not sure he’d call him a friend. a foe would not be a good title either. he blinks himself out of his trance and reaches for his toothbrush.

albedo doesn’t cough very often, and when he does, it’s only a natural reflex to clear his throat; this is one of those times.

“my throat’s quite dry today,” he observes as his fingers brush over the diamond-shaped tattoo that sits upon his neck. the skin feels rough under his fingertips, so he gulps down a glass of water to wash away the feeling. (it does nothing to help though, and albedo is left feeling more unnerved than before.)

the breeze adopts a faint melody of whispers and rhymes; characteristic of mondstadt, albedo thinks. though he was always neutral about the weather, he clearly recalls how rejoiced you used to get whenever you felt the sun on your skin. he smiles absently at the thought and considers stepping outside today, for your sake. and of course, just for your sake, he gives in to the urge.

he steps over sticks and rubble as he walks out into the open. the sun shines as it always does, as if it ignores the issues of the world below; narcissistic, as things are. he turns the other cheek when the sunlight extends a ray to caress his skin with fiery warmth.

nevermind, he sighs as the door creaks shut behind him, this was a bad idea.

the controllable, indoor lighting is much more his style. it works with him when the weather does not; a cooperative being. as such, it illuminates something in the corner of his eye, as if it were the guidance at the end of a tunnel: his forgotten, blank canvases collecting dust.

and, just to humour himself, he picks a less dusty one up. it’s not too big nor small, able to sit comfortably on his well-worn easel. there’s nothing in the room that inspires him, he realizes, but he also doesn’t want to make the trek to dragonspine. (the sun is not very comforting at the moment, you see.) he settles on a tried and true muse— you, of course.

so he begins.

the curve of your jaw is natural to him. so is the way you pucker your lips and the way your eyes crease when you smile. the tone of your skin and how the shadows dance along it has long since been committed to his memory. he makes quick work of painting you, but he feels something is missing. there should be something or someone beside you, smiling and enjoying the environment in the painting just as much.

right, he almost laughs at his own naïvety, he has to be there beside you.

(now, albedo isn’t one to draw self-portraits very often, but he tries to paint himself as accurately as possible when he does. and so he brings a mirror.)

albedo stares perplexedly at the same reflection he ignored this morning. no, no. he must’ve remembered himself wrong. he definitely does not recognize the person staring back at him. it makes him want to cry.

where has the brightness in his eyes gone? and the dark circles around his eyes weren’t there last time he checked. he looks sickly, a pool of guilt and hatred in his eyes. the star at his neck has morphed into a disgusting shade of violet, with spidery legs extending from it like someone smashed a hammer directly into glass. the broken expression he sees in the mirror makes his mind spiral.

he rushes outside. the sun burns as if he poured one of his potions directly onto his skin. it doesn’t matter to him at the moment, though, because surely—

the tall, overarching buildings of mondstadt are now only piles of rubble and ruins littering the ground. there is no wind, not even a light breeze. the statue of the anemo archon is what he assumes to be the giant, grey figure laid down on its side as if it was a god defeated in battle.

like the statue, albedo crumbles. he falls down onto his knees and it brings a stinging, painful shock throughout his body but he really can’t afford to care about that right now.

did he...

did he do this?

he wants to scream. his throat restricts him, much too dry to even let out a hoarse whisper.

he wants to cry. when his tears flow down his face, it feels thick; disgusting. it feels like blood— not his, though. (it’s so much worse when it isn’t his.) he can’t name whose blood it is; there are too many names going through his mind: lisa, jean, amber, venti, sucrose, klee, you. (oh, you.) his tears spill down his face. he gets up only to run away from it, away from the blood. he seeks your comfort as he rushes through the house (please please please be there—)

where are you?

where have you gone?

albedo picks up the picture frame on the nightstand. (funny how it perfectly reflects in the lighting— archons damn this controllable fucking lighting! leave him alone! let him wallow in his own self-destruction!) your smiling eyes look at him fondly. he doesn’t deserve your kindness, does he? but he really, really needs it.

he traces your face with his hands, covered in the transparent blood of all those he cared about and more, and flinches when he meets the icy, cold glass. his mind connects the dots at the last minute. he barely registers the sound of glass breaking as the picture frame hits the floor with a shattering impact.

there is only one last place for him to go.

he stumbles to his easel. the canvas is safe, thank the archons, though his palette and paintbrush have fallen to the floor, long since drying and staining the hardwood with the colours of you.

he gasps lightly, in awe, when you positively glow, not exactly like the sun, nor like the candlelight of the house’s ceiling lamps— something new, something different. something he fears he is too corrupted for. something he wants to protect for the rest of his life.

albedo lifts his hand to caress your face, only to reel back in horror when the only half-dried paint sticks onto his fingers and stains his skin with your colours. your beautiful, perfectly sculpted face is now smudged— just as delicate as he remembers.

and even though you look like you are melting, fading away from his life, he smiles, basking in your light. his throat starts to burn again when he tries to say “i love you,” and the paint on his hands feels more like (your) blood when he tries to wipe it off— he’s become numb to the horrifying feeling, even just for a little while. he’ll spend his time loving you, even if his memory dies like paint going down the drain when he washes it off the palette. he cherishes you so, even when his neck looks and feels like crackled glass. he’ll paint you over and over again, and when he runs out of paint, he’ll find more. he’ll create more, no matter what.

(why?

because you were always a work of art.

and you always will be.

now, would you say the same about him?)

[one-leaf-grimoire]

knight au ➼ chapter 16

warnings ➼ none

synopsis ➼ The Black Bulls and CLK have a joint training session. Julius holds a meeting and is confronted by Augustus

ao3 link (18+ content) ➼ here

masterlist ➼ here

author’s note ➼ I am really excited about the next few chapters! Also, this chapter features Wraith, and OC who belongs to @hobgobbin

“Come on! Are you really that out of practice?”

Lisa waved her hand, dismissing the worry, her breaths about four seconds behind her racing heartbeat. “I-I’m fine-” she managed to say, her lungs feeling like two deflated balloons. They had only been in this joint training session for 15 minutes, and she was starting to get tired. Damn it! She thought, frustrated. All that time doing nothing while I was injured hurt my stamina. She drew in one more deep breath before straightening up again. This is what I get for being reckless, I guess.

Sei watched Lisa recover, blinking a few times in the bright sunlight. Suddenly, someone bumped into him, sending him stumbling a few feet. “Hey! Watch it!” he snapped, looking up to see Finral Roulecase, one of the knights from the Black Bulls squad, on the ground where he had fallen. The Crimson Lions were conducting a joint training session with the Black Bulls, hoping to foster more unity between sects of the organization. The Black Bulls did not have the… best reputation, but they were getting along with Sei’s squad.

“S-Sorry, Sir!” Finral stuttered, jumping to his feet before turning angrily to his opponent. “Asta! Maybe hold back a little?”

The short, grey-haired kid gave his senior a goofy smile. “SORRY! I’ll try! It’s hard to hold back with this ol’thing!” He swung his gigantic black claymore over his shoulder, letting out a loud laugh. Sei couldn’t help but stare at it for a moment. Fuegoleon’s greatsword, the Leo Rugiens, was dwarfed by that thing. It wasn’t the biggest he had ever seen, but for a claymore, it was monstrous. Yeesh. He seems too short to wield a sword like that.

“OUCH! Hey, what was that for, you twerp!”

“AH! I’m sorry!”

Sei turned around to see a tall, brown haired Black Bull marching towards Leo, Fuegoleon’s younger brother, with fury in his eyes. There was a bruise upon his cheek, where Leo had hit him with the blunt side of his blade, but the younger boy seemed to be more terrified of his foe. Sei quickly moved between them, sensing that this could get ugly. This is Gauche Adlai, right? He thought, glad to see that Guache halted at the sight of the senior knight. “Hey! You two, you’re not actually supposed to kill each other during this practice. It’s practice after all, right?”

Gauche scoffed, rolling his eyes before turning away. “Whatever. I’m not the one who hit me in the face with a sword.”

Sei wanted to deck the guy in the face, but held himself back. Instead, he just sighed and turned to scowl at Leo. “It was an accident! He was strongarming my blade, and it slipped-”

“I know, I know.” Sei patted the boy on the shoulder. “Go switch out with Finral and fight Asta. The poor guy needs a break.”

Leo’s eyes lit up. “Yessir!” he shouted before running off to face the other energetic boy.

Geez, I wish Fuegoleon didn’t have that stupid meeting, Sei thought to himself, crossing his arms before turning to survey the scene once again. The air was full of the sound of blades clacking and knights grunting. But among the sounds of fighting, there was also laughter and happy chatter, despite the occasional sore loser. It’s only me looking after this bunch. Yami’s at the same meeting, after all.

......................................

“This is supposed to be Patri? Doesn’t look like him at all…”

Yami Sukehiro, captain of the Black Bulls, chewed on his pipe as he stared down at the paper he had just received, along with the 8 other captains. This meeting had only just begun, but he was already tired of it. Joint training is today, he thought. I wish I could beat up some of those Crimson Lions along with my squad…

“Trust me, this is accurate.” Yami looked back up as Julius spoke. He was standing at the head of the table, crown and cape discarded in favor of a more casual outfit. The older man looked troubled, but determined to set a plan in motion that would end the threat posted by Patri and his followers. “I saw him with my own eyes, after all.”

Yami raised an eyebrow. “Even the pointy ears? He looks like an elf.”

“Yes, even the ears.” Julius sighed. “He was experimented on and tortured while in captivity. Subjected to things that… changed his very body.” His brow furrowed, his heart pained by the thought.

“...that’s the reason why he wanted to hand you over? To gain his freedom?” Charlotte Roselei, captain of the Blue Roses, asked, her eyes lingering on the picture. “Why didn’t Diamond just send one of their own assassins?”

“They’d rather have someone else do their dirty work,” Fuegoleon answered before Julius could answer. “It’s cruel… but that doesn’t forgive his actions.” Under the table, he clenched his fist. Because of Patri, Lisa and Sei both got hurt. I could have lost both of them. I’m thankful that it wasn’t more serious, but still… It would have hurt to see someone as young and promising as Lisa be killed, and Fuegoleon couldn’t even begin to comprehend how he would suffer if he lost Sei.

“...If his goal is truly to escape Diamond for good… then why don’t we just extend a pardon?”

Everyone’s heads snapped towards William, who sat at the other head of the table. As the captain of the Golden Dawn, the most decorated and illustrious squad in the Kingdom, he was highly respected by all, but right now the others weren’t sure that they believed he would suggest that.

Julius sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

Patri…

He couldn’t help but remember the day Patri joined the squad, alongside William, Yami, Nacht, and Morgen. They were all so bright-eyed, so eager to prove themselves.

I failed all of them… in the end, I couldn’t protect Morgen, and I let Patri be taken away.

“It’s more than just escaping Diamond… Patri blames his pain entirely on me.”

As he should.

“To him, as long as this Kingdom survives, with me at the helm, his pain will never be avenged. This is larger than just me and him… we can’t let him continue. A pardon will do nothing but add insult to injury.”

Opening his eyes, Julius stared out at the captains, determination gripping his heart.

That’s right… I can’t let myself wallow in guilt. There are too many people depending on me, I can’t give up. I’m not innocent, but neither is anyone else.

And besides…

Lisa looked so beautiful in the moonlight.

I have a future now. One I need to preserve.

“You will make sure that your squads are all familiar with this man’s face. He can’t leave this kingdom, he has nowhere else to go. We know the names and faces of a few of his associates, as well, so it won’t be long before we corner the Eye of the Midnight Sun.”

The captains nodded, eager to find the man who had almost robbed them of their King.

“Julius! One moment!”

Julius turned around from where he had been saying goodbye to the captains as they filtered out of the conference room and left down the hall. Now, none other than Augustus was waddling towards him, beckoning him away from the door.

“Yes, of course.”

Julius quickly moved to meet the man. “How are you?”

“Fine, fine!” Augustus replied quickly. He seemed to be rushing to get to some point, almost too jovial. “Even better, now that I have a moment to chat with you!.” He chuckled, and Julius inadvertently bristled.

...he’s up to something, isn’t he?

“About the ball… I was worried at first about this woman of yours, but after talking to your cousins about her and her family, and then seeing her-” Augustus laughed again. “She was quite enchanting… you’re a lucky man, Julius.”

Julius chuckled nervously, wondering why Augustus had waited almost a week to bring this up. It was true, everything had gone according to plan; at least, that was what Augustus was letting on. Julius couldn’t help but wonder if the man was secretly suspicious still; the thought made his pulse quicken.

If Augustus knows something, then Lisa is in danger-

“In fact, you’re a little too lucky.”

Julius blinked, Augustus’s words grounding him once again. “...what do you mean?”

Augustus narrowed his eyes, twirling his pathetic little beard between two fingers. “I mean, don’t you think it’s improper for you to court a woman more beautiful than the one I am engaged to? I mean, my fiancee is pretty, but like I told you before, she’s tall, and pales in comparison to- er- what was Lady Payne’s first name?”

“...E-Elisabeth-” Julius replied slowly.

“Elisabeth! She’s simply divine… so…” Augustus finally smiled again, deviously. “I propose… the two of us trade. I marry Elisabeth, and you can take my fiancee.”

Julius sucked in a breath, immediately starting to get angry. “Switch? Augustus, that’s absurd-”

“I don’t think it’s absurd!” Augustus interrupted. “It’s more absurd for you to walk around with a pretty young wife on your arm while I’m stuck with a homely spinster!”

“Augustus,” Julius clenched his teeth, willing himself to stay calm. The mere fact that Augustus had been drinking Lisa up that evening like she was some sort of eye candy was enough to make him scream, paired with his willingness to cast aside his own fiancee on a whim. But he couldn’t lose his temper now, not when things were so delicate. “Our relationship is different. It wasn’t arranged, we are in love with each other.”

“That’s not a problem! Listen-” Augustus stepped closer, lowering his voice and reaching up to pat Julius’s shoulder. “It would really only be in name… you can see Elisabeth whenever and wherever you’d like! We would share… That’s what friends do, right? She would belong to you and all that… although...”

Julius looked down to see Augustus lick his lips slowly. It looked like some wretched slug was poking its head out from between his lips.

“She would still be my wife-”

It was instinctual. Julius’s hand reached up and grabbed Augustus’s arm, prying his hand off his shoulder. Augustus yelped at the pressure, trying to yank himself free. But he couldn’t; Julius’s grip was like a vice. Augustus looked up into the man’s eyes, and for the first time in his miserable life, felt true fear.

“...we aren’t friends.”

Julius’s voice was flat in comparison to the anger that swirled within his eyes. He looked down at the little man, and his grip clenched again. Augustus was too scared to cry out.

“Don’t ever bring this up with me again. It’s out of the question. And if I catch you looking at her… well. I’ve killed men for less.”

Julius didn’t want to say anything else, he didn’t even want to be in the man’s presence anymore. His grip loosened, and Augustus took many steps back. The man panted lightly, still in shock of what had just been said to him. But for the first time in his life, Augustus couldn’t find anything to say. He just stood there and watched as Julius stormed off down the hall and out of sight.

Share…

Today had been a relatively good day so far, despite the stressful meeting. Not only did they have to discuss the Eye of the Midnight Sun and Patri, but plans were made for a very important upcoming visit from the royal family of the Spade Kingdom. Everything ended up being squared away, but now Julius’s good mood was ruined.

Share… SHARE?!

He stomped up the stairs to his room, slamming the door behind him. Finally, he had some peace and quiet, but his mind was plagued by the interaction he just had. With a groan, Julius collapsed face-first into his bed, exhausted both mentally and physically.

Not only do I have to protect everyone in this Kingdom, but now I have to protect Lisa from that creep.

Even if everything went well, and Lisa came here to live with him as his wife, she wouldn’t be safe. Not 100%. Julius was never going to forget what Augustus said today.

Maybe I should go see her tonight.

He rolled onto his back, his head turning to look out the window. Seeing her would be the comfort he needed; To know that she was safe in his arms, the only place that he knew he could protect her all the time.

Of course, she didn’t need to be protected all the time, as Lisa often told him herself. She was a knight, after all.

........................................................

“Wraith’s here! Dinner time!”

All the Black Bulls suddenly dropped their weapons and ran to the front door of their barracks, all jostling against each other in the entrance trying to get in. Lisa blinked, standing awkwardly with the other knights from her squad, not sure if they were invited.

“Hold on! There’s enough for everyone! Haha-”

A short man had appeared, dragging a cart behind him, loaded with every vegetable you could imagine. The Bulls obviously all knew who he was as they swarmed around his cart. At one point, he looked up in time to spot the other squad standing there. “You guys come get some, too! You’ve all been working hard, after all.

“Awww we have to share?” the blonde young man with a perpetual smile, Luck, whined. Wraith shot him a warning glance before turning to smile at the Crimson Lions again. “Come on! I just harveseted these this morning. You can stick ‘em on a skewer and roast them over the fire pit if you want.”

“Go on. I’m sure you’re all hungry,” Sei encouraged, and his squad finally moved to join the Bulls around the cart. He smiled a bit before walking up next to Wraith. “Thanks for doing this.”

“No problem, this is supposed to be inter-squad bonding, right?” Wraith said. “There’s no better time to bond than over a meal.”

“Right.”

Lisa smiled to herself as she sat with the others around the fire pit, watching the skin of her sweet potato start to wrinkle as it was roasted. Everyone was in a good mood, still energetic from their vigorous training session. The light from the flames flickered pleasantly across their faces, the sky above them slowly shifting into night.

“Guess who?”

A pair of big hands suddenly reached out of the darkness behind Wraith to cover his eyes. He let out a yelp of surprise. “Yami?”

He turned around and grinned when he saw that Yami was back, a smug smile on his face. “Captain! Welcome back!” the Bulls chorused.

“Here- I saved some for you.” Wraith handed Yami a skewer as the man squeezed in next to him, one of his arms draped casually over the back of Wraith’s seat. “How was the meeting?”

“Boring. And top secret.” Yami winked. “I have news, though. The Grinberyall family is coming to visit this weekend. Something about signing a new defense treaty. But security is going to be tight.” His eyes glinted a bit in the flames as he looked at the faces of all those seated around him.

“The Grinberyalls? All the way from Spade?” Sei repeated in disbelief.

“And their whole court, apparently,” Yami added. “Julius said that each squad should send some knights to help keep everything under control.”

“OOOH! I want to go! Captain! Pick me!” Asta suddenly shouted, raising his hand and nearly bounding out of his seat. His mouth was still full of food.

“...we’ll see.” Yami rolled his eyes, suddenly spotting something interesting. “You there… what’s that creepy thing on your head?”

It took Lisa a moment to realize that she was being spoken to. “H-Huh? Me? OH-” She sat up straight, nearly choking on a bite of sweet potato. “Er- uh- it’s a birthmark- sorry if it’s creepy, sir-”

“Hey! Leave my squad members alone,” Sei cut in, kicking Yami in the leg. “That’s my job.”

“Fine. At ease,” Yami jokingly said, his eyes lingering on Lisa’s mark for a moment longer.

Lisa nodded, quickly redirecting her attention to her sweet potato. As the night went on and the fire dimmed, her mind shifted to a new set of thoughts.

I hope I get to go to the gathering…

[misslilli]

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3

Chapter 21 - The Halloween Fair

[ DS ]

On the afternoon of the Halloween fair, I take out the costume that Miss Hannigan picked out for me from the closet. Ever since I’ve got it, I’m beyond excited to wear it. It’s a black low-cut shirt, a white, checkered suit with a blazer that ties at the waist and a flaring skirt. As I put on the blonde wig and the black beret, I turn to the mirror channeling my best inner Faye Dunaway and say to myself in a breathy, southern lilt: “My, my, don’t you just look dandy, Miss Bonnie Parker!”

My friends have been roped into manning the booths of the fair and somehow, I’ve slipped under the town people’s radars, which leaves me able to roam around the fair, albeit alone. Since I’ve known most people in this town ever since I was little, I’m never actually alone at these happenings, people tend to just pull me into their conversation as I walk by. But as luck will have it, as I’m rounding one of the booths of the fair, I find myself face to face with the one person I had secretly hoped to see.

He’s wearing a brown tweed suit with a matching waistcoat and over the white collared shirt he’s tied an emerald green tie. Perched on his head is a white fedora. ‘Shit. He’s Clyde. What the fuck?’

We stop in our tracks and stare at each other for a moment, taking in our respective costumes. He’s the first one to regain his ability to speak.

“Hey Bonnie, the laws are outside, they’re blockin’ the driveway!” His Warren Beatty impression is perfect right down to the Texan drawl. ‘God help me…’

“Gosh, I hope you’ve parked the getaway car around the corner, Clyde!” I’m putting on my best Faye Dunaway impression again as I add a wink to my statement and just continue to walk past him. My heart thumping hard against my chest betrays my cool exterior, but that’s my secret and my secret alone.

----------

[ FM ]

When we finally get to the Halloween fair that Felix has roped me into, dressed up in a costume I didn’t even pick myself. We trail the grounds together and we’re drawn to the candy apple booth. Well actually, Felix draws us to this exact booth, the little sneak, but I can’t resist his pout and pleading eyes, so we end up getting an apple each. Munching away happily, his mouth full, he asks the question I’ve been too scared to ask myself: “Hey dad, do you think Miss Scully is here too with her friends?” I hope she is, if only to see what kind of costume she has picked out for herself, but I can’t tell Felix that. Instead, I just shrug and we continue our stroll across the town square.

When we round another booth, we both stop in our tracks as we see a blonde woman appear before us , dressed in a checkered suit and a beret on her head. ‘Bonnie. She’s the freakin’ Bonnie to your Clyde. Your sidekick. No, your partner in crime. The woman you love. In the movie of course. Insert awkward cough.’.

Felix is oblivious of course, he hasn’t seen the movies and I doubt he even knows what my costume is, let alone Miss Scully’s. I scrape together the last braincells that are left in my head and a stupid movie quote is the only thing I can think of at this moment.

“Hey Bonnie, the laws are outside, they’re blockin’ the driveway!” The retort she gives me combined with her wink render me speechless until she’s well past me and Felix, mingling with the small crowd that welcomes her into their midst just a few feet away from us.

Felix does the thing I wish I could bring myself to do, staring at her retreating form in wonder and he also speaks the words that have sprung to my own mind.

“Wow!”

----------

[ DS ]

Countless conversations later and a little tipsy on the delicious apple cider they always serve at the Halloween fair, I wander along the booths when I hear a voice I haven’t heard in over a year. And could’ve gone forever not hearing again. It’s my ex-whatever Steve, talking to one of his friends.

I’m hidden pretty well in the crowd of people due to my shortness but I can still catch flashes of their conversation. When I hear my name, I stop, straining my ears.

“Dana? Oh God, no. She’s not even close to being a serious contender for a relationship.” I wince at his statement as well as the tone of his voice. “She’s just always there, you know? Like a well trained Golden Retriever, I say the word and she comes running. Such an easy lay!” When they share a laugh I can feel the flush of shame and anger crawl up my neck.

The situation he describes is exactly what I’ve spent countless hours in therapy getting over. But what he says next really drives a stake through my heart. “It’s so pathetic, but if it’s what I have to do to get laid, whatever. She’s even dirtier in bed than any hot teacher fantasy you could ever imagine and what they say about good Catholic girls is very, very accurate, if you know what I mean!”

If he weren’t the demon I have to face every time I try to get over my past, I would’ve revealed myself and give his ass a good kicking for talking about me the way he has. But not knowing how I’ll react to being face-to-face with him, I stay hidden behind a group of mummies and zombies like a fucking coward.

I’m so furious with him and myself for not being able to stand up to him. Where the hell are my friends when I need them? I haven’t seen them all evening and I could really use their company to talk some sense into me. Since they’re nowhere to be found, I head towards the bar set up in the back and slide onto a stool, ordering a shot of Tequila. ‘Fuck it! That low-life is not even worth your time of day!’

On the surface, I’m so angry I want to set this whole damn place on fire, but deep down, the past hurt resurfaces to join the hurt from his words I just heard.

By the time I’ve downed my second shot, I’ve repeated the mantra that I’m a strong woman who’s better off without men in my head about a thousand times. I see someone slide onto the stool next to me out of the corner of my eye as I order another shot of Tequila to keep the two empty glasses in front of me company.

“A third shot of Tequila is just asking for trouble, if you ask me.” I turn my head slowly towards my bar-mate to tell him exactly where to shove his smart-ass remark when I’m faced with my supposed partner in crime, the charming one with the disarmingly innocent smile on his stupid face. I’m staring him down defiantly, my eyes never leaving his while the bartender places my glass in front of me and I grab it, downing it in a swift motion, daring him in my mind to say anything else. He doesn’t comment, good for him, and orders a shot for himself, just raising his glass silently and I clink it with my empty one – I’m tipsy, not insane, chasing one shot with another.

We’re staring straight ahead during our conversation, turning our glasses over and over between our fingers.

“Which guy seems to be the problem and how many rounds of ammo do I need to take him out?,” he asks after minutes of silence. I want to lean into him for just assuming that it’s a man that has me sitting here seething, but unfortunately, he’s right. This one time.

“How many rounds you got?” He scoffs at that.

“Plenty. And I know of exactly eleven ways to get rid of a body without raising suspicion.”

“And here I was thinking the FBI frowned upon their employees giving out top-level secrets on how to hide away evidence of a crime committed.”

“I’m not going to tell you, I wouldn’t want you to be held in contempt of Congress when questioned.”

“How do you know I wouldn’t rat you out when questioned by Congress?”

“Just a hunch… Talk to me, Red. What happened tonight?” He turns towards me and I can feel his gaze dancing over the skin of my face.

“You really want to know? Well, turns out the asshole of an ex of mine decided that today might be the perfect time to make an encore appearance in my life and reminded me again why I should’ve kicked him to the curb a long time ago instead of hoping I could change him.” Looking down at the bar, I trace my finger through the condensation drops, my anger slowly dissipating and my voice growing more and more quiet. “I heard him say some pretty awful things about me tonight.”

I relax into his hand when he places it comfortingly on my back, right between my shoulder blades, and huff out a sigh. “I’m sorry.,” is the only thing he says, but doesn’t add anything else, giving me the choice if I wanted to elaborate or not.

“What I witnessed today was the way he’s always been but I just couldn’t see through the masquerade of the sweet guy, he was so kind and said all the right things and he quite literally wooed the pants off me from the get-go.”

“Love bombing.” ‘Oh yeah, I forgot, you’re a profiler. You probably already got one worked out for me, trust-issues, anxious attachment style, possibly daddy issues, in short, a hot mess. Avoid at all costs.’

“Pretty much, yeah. And I was stupid enough to believe it.” I raise my hand to call over the bartender for another round.

“You’re not stupid. It’s hard to tell the difference between genuine interest and love bombing in the beginning.” ‘Yeah, no shit Sherlock. It’s exactly why I’m sitting here torn between wanting you to make a pass at me and being absolutely terrified that you actually will.’

“How about we pass on the shots and get some water instead before calling it a night?”

“I think that’s probably a good idea, Mr. Mulder!”

“You know, after tonight, what do you say we just drop the Mister?” I nods slowly, pursing my lips.

“So just Fox?” He makes a pained face.

“No, please don’t. Just Mulder is fine.”

“Mh-hm. I guess since we’re dropping the titles, that that makes me Scully? Little odd, but alright!”

We get the check and argue back and forth about who gets to pay, him putting an end to it with a firm “Will you give it a rest, you’ll get to pick up the next check!”.

In my attempt to slide off the barstool gracefully despite three tequila shots, my heel catches onto the rail at the bottom and I stumble over the stool, knocking it over in the process. I have only his quick reflexes to thank that I don’t follow suit, his arms catching me around my waist and pulling me upright again.

He has the audacity to laugh, the bastard, and I’m beyond mortified. “Easy there, partner! Do you need a ride home? Felix is at a pajama party at his friend Suzie’s house, so I’m free to be your pumpkin carriage for tonight.” ‘NO! Yes? No. Get your hands off me. Don’t let go just yet.’

I’m so confused at the tug of war in my fuzzy head but I hate getting a cab alone and I’m in heels on top of being tipsy, I don’t want to walk home alone at night.

As we walk out, his hand finds his way to the small of my back guiding me through the crowds while making sure I don’t stumble again.

On the drive to the beach house, I manage not to fall asleep despite how tired I feel, too afraid of snoring or, God forbid, drooling onto myself. His hands find my back again guiding me up the stairs to the front door and I turn to face him at the top, even more nervous.

“Thanks for the ride, Mulder. And for listening.”

“Anytime, Scully. Good night!”

When he leans in, I start to panic that this is it and I think it shows on my face, because he only kisses my cheek, just like I did after the birthday party before getting back in the car and heading home. I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed.

I can’t ignore the flutter of excitement every time his hands land anywhere on my body but what I will absolutely deny, even to myself, is the way my heart constricts in my chest when he gazes at me that way and the sense of comfort that settles over me when we’re together.

Bodily reactions I can deal with, it’s when it comes to emotions is where it gets scary.

I just don’t think my heart can survive another Steve.

[goldencorecrunches]

@lady-of-the-lotus I’ve done it. I’ve written, G-d help me, YaoYang fanfiction. I hope you’re happy. I hope you forget about your soup on the burner and it scorches. (Also on AO3 for fancy linked footnotes)

---

Must one dread what others dread?

--Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching

.

What have I done? Sweet Jesus, what have I done?

--Jean Valjean, Les Misérables (Musical)

.

Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, hamotzi lechem min ha’aretz.[1]

 --Jewish blessing said prior to eating an olive-bulk or more of bread (unless, of course, you disagree).

---------

It was a bright and balmy day, the third of the cultivation conference, and Sect Leader Yao was being insufferable. He was well outfitted for it. He had woken from his insufferable, snoring sleep and demanded an insufferable breakfast, the specifications of which made the most highly-ranked, honor-festooned cook in Jin Tower break down into tears and resign on the spot. He put on his most insufferable underpants on under his most insufferable robes, and tied back his hair in the insufferable style that he favored, the one that made him look like a badly turned rotten beet.[2] He had even spent fifty minutes manipulating his face in an insufferable series of facial expressions in the mirror, involving him at several points “losing” his own reflection only to “find” it again at the corner of the polished bronze, much to his own amusement—though not, it might be stated, to the amusement of the junior launderer he demanded watch his performance.

The hall had been surprisingly vacant of other unoccupied servants, when Sect Leader Yao had checked. All that scurrying and burrying! Well, servants should be busy, anyway: that was the way, and the way was right, HRRGNH. “That Was the Way, And The Way Was Right, HRRGNH,” was the latest of the updated mottos Sect Leader Yao had thought of for his sect. Though it was an excellent guiding principal and pure poetry upon the senses, it had two drawbacks. The first was that the tonally-important HRRGNH at the posterior end of the phrase was obtained by means of thrusting the hips forward, curling the torso, and letting the resulting force of air displaced escape through the mouth. This was, Sect Leader Yao allowed, not very dignified.  

Still, all was not lost. Sect Leader Jiang had scowled upon seeing it, but he was always scowling so he didn’t count. Sect Leader Lan had looked intrigued. Sect Leader Nie had applauded, and asked whether it would be possible to pass gas from below at the same time; a very tactless comment, Sect Leader Yao had thought, considering the gastrointestinal distress he was so often plagued by, which Sect Leader Nie should know about, as Sect Leader Yao had described it to him at length, frequently. He had reminded Sect Leader Nie of this with appropriate grace. It was good to show these young sprites how to conduct oneself with the proper manners. The second problem was that Sect Leader Yao did not, and had not for several years, have a sect. It was not something Sect Leader Yao liked to think about, so he largely didn't.

On the way to the discussion hall Sect Leader Yao felt a whisper, on the back of his neck. It was the slimiest whisper anyone had ever felt, and it carried with it the vague sense that someone had been watching you, through a crack in the wall, the last time you were alone in the bathroom. It also carried the powerful scent of moldy incense. Sect Leader Yao turned and spread his arms wide. “Sect Leader Ouyang!” It was his best, insufferable, friend. His worst friend, too, being his only, but Sect Leader Ouyang took on both roles with ease. They’d stabbed each other, once, over a hunk of demonic metal. Ah, memories were truly the jewels of life. Sect Leader Ouyang grimaced like a dead cat, which was his version of a pleased smile, and bowed. Sect Leader Yao bowed back. When he rose he waggled his eyebrows. Sect Leader Ouyang snapped open his fan and wafted, with the gentle flutter of a category five hurricane, several lungfuls of moldy incense. They had totally sucked face last night. It had been swag.[3] “What’s on the docket for today?” “I believe it is something to do with that Jin boy. An honor ceremony he’s attempting to put together. If he expects my sect to pay for it, I’ll want to know why.” Sect Leader Ouyang sniffed. He did that a lot. Sect Leader Yao lovingly passed over a handkerchief.

The Jin boy’s proposal was indeed the first major case discussed, after the necessary canapés and complaints about the accommodations had been passed around.[5] It was a matter the boy had clearly put much thought into, and one dear to his heart; he presented it with an earnest timbre that would have swayed a petrified forest. Unfortunately, earnestness was outside of Sect Leader Yao’s testicular-sized sphere of understanding. “He’s grubbing for money, you’ll see,” Sect Leader Yao said, in an overtone[6] to Sect Leader Ouyang. Sect Leader Yao considered himself wise to the ways of the conniving, since he, the aforementioned, sometimes cheated at cards. His friend-now-daring-conquest nodded and glared across the room. He was aiming for the Jin boy, but missed, and caught a rather startled wine-pourer on the side. “You ought to say something,” Sect Leader Ouyang said. That was an excellent idea. It was always, in Sect Leader Yao’s opinion, the right time for him to be talking. “Hey!” he shouted, waving his arms over his head like an extremely drunk aircraft marshal. “Hey! What’s this got to do with Wei Wuxian?” “It…doesn’t,” said the Jin boy, who was in fact Sect Leader Jin, and who while admittedly young outranked Sect Leader Yao to a degree that would make you wince and say whoee it’s a scorcher if you saw it on an outdoor thermometer. “Ridiculous!” Sect Leader Yao said. “We all know it does! Stop trying to bamboozle us with dacquoise!”[7] Sect Leader Jiang had stopped scowling in approval and had begun to scowl in apparent constipation. The history between him and Wei Wuxian was somewhat rocky.[8] “Exactly as he says!” Sect Leader Ouyang, the most and least loyal of Sect Leader Yao’s comrades, cut in. He leapt to his feet; several of his neighbors checked, instinctively, to make sure their pants were still up. “You won’t catch us sleeping!” “Hear, hear!” Sect Leader Yao thundered. “Please don’t shout,” Sect Leader Nie hangovered. He had one hand clasped around his temples, the other clutching a cup of water. Sect Leader Yao was surprised he was so bad off. He’d seemed quite sober when he’d stumbled across the totally swag face-sucking betwixt Sect Leaders Yao and Ouyang. Speaking of. Sect Leader Yao turned to look sideways conspiratorially at Sect Leader Ouyang and shoot him finger-bow-and-arrows.[9] Sect Leader Ouyang mimed catching one. Damn, Sect Leader Yao was for sure going to propose marriage after this Wei Wuxian dacquoise was smoked out.

Oh yeah, it was all comin’ up Yao, baby. That was the way, and the way was right.

HRRGNH.

----------

1This blessing has no relevance to the contents of this work. “Honestly,” the author said when questioned, “I’m just trying for all the help I can get.”[return to text]

2A confusing feat, as this was China prior to the year 1000 BCE, Gregorian, and beets had not been invented yet.[return to text]

3“Swag” is neither a genre- nor period-accurate term for the emotion Sect Leader Yao was feeling. However, translation is an art rather than a science,[4] and more atmospheric words fail to communicate to modern English-speaking audiences the true depth of Sect Leader Yao’s douchebaggery. Thus: swag.[return to text]

4"An art rather than a science” is a common phrase used by people who are neither artists nor scientists to describe what they believe to be the difference between these disciplines. One might as well say “a boot rather than a canary”—that is, not the same, but having more in common than people might think.

5There was nothing wrong with the accommodations, and especially nothing any of the poorly-used common folk the attendees lorded over would have found, but if there is one unifying factor among humans it is that they love to complain.[return to text]

6Like an undertone, but the opposite.[return to text]

7A word Sect Leader Yao thought meant “deceit,” but which in fact refers to a tasty meringue-and-cream French pastry.[return to text]

8If by “somewhat rocky” you mean “a high-speed chase over deadly-fast rapids between simultaneous avalanches, and also, there are sharks.”[return to text]

9Small handheld firearms, aka “guns,” had also not been invented yet.[return to text]

[nanamisflowerfield]

oooh your writing is so nice! i'm glad that i stumble upon your account! i don't know if you're still open for request, but can I get Tenma x Reader (A3!) where they are a childhood friend and reader is dense and oblivious that Tenma have a big obvious crush on the reader? Thank you, have a nice day!

Thanks for the compliment!! \(//∇//)\ My requests are still open! So don‘t worry!~

Have a nice day too!~ (*´ω`*)

Maybe Next Year... (Tenma Sumeragi x Reader)

🌻 “Tenten, look over there!” You pointed at the cherry blossoms that bloomed over your heads, while you two walked down the street, holding each other’s small hands. It was great to be a small kid with no responsibility. You wished to never become an adult, while your best friend Tenma Sumeragi counted the days until he would be one, so he could finally do something he wished to do the day he had met you! Confess his totally obviously crush on you!

“Yeah, cherry blossoms, and? What’s the big deal?” He asked you, shrugging his shoulders and blushing, as you sent a smile towards the young friend besides you. “It’s pretty!”

“But not as pretty as you.” – “Mh? What was it?” – “N-Nothing you idiot! Now stop looking so dump and watch your steps! I don’t want to-“ – “But piggybacks are great!” – “NO!”

🌻 Yes. That was a usual day for the best friends. Childhood friends to be accurate.

🌻 Before you even realized it, you were already at high school, eating your lunch next to your still best friend. “Stop shoving your food into your face. That’s disgusting.” “Pffft… You’re disgusting for not doing it. Let me eat my food, Tenma-chan!~”

Hearing a laugh behind you, you turned around to see Tenma’s friend you met a few times. Taichi and Yuza. “You two are really like a married couple!” Said the puppy-like redhead, gaining a chuckle from you. But Tenma, well, he felt heat rising up his cheeks, as his gaze meets yours for a second.

“Haha, very funny.” – “But I thought that-“

Faster than light, Tenma changed the topic, glancing to you. “The cherry blossoms are blooming again… Want to watch it together?” – “Yeah. It’s a date!” Date. He really liked that word….

🌻 So after school, you two walked side by side around the streets, watching the cherry blossoms falling, landing peacefully on the ground. Side by side. Just like back then. Or like everyday? But today was actually a great day. A special day for the young actor.

🌻 Barely touching your hand, he adverted his eyes away from your direction, watching some kids running around and playing tag.

🌻 “Mhhh… Today reminds me of the day, when we were younger. Remember? I tripped and you had to walk me back home, and then we talked about so many things. Like our dreams and wishes.” You chuckled, as you ran a hand through your hair, missing the red dusted cheeks of Tenma.

“Of course. My back hurted because of you. You were so heavy.” He joked, gaining an amused laugh.

He can perfectly remember that day, because it was the day that he told you about his dream. Well, one of two dreams. The dream to become the best and famous actor on the world! The second dream was one, he will tell you later. When the time was right. When you finally realize your own feelings for him, if you hopefully had the same feelings.

🌻 He even prepared himself for this great day. Or maybe he will just confess to you after you two graduated from school… Maybe then you will finally stop being so damn dense!

And when the time comes, then Tenma was so sure, that he will hold your hands, tell you that he loves you and propose to you with the ring he bought two years ago…

🌻 Maybe he will do it. But not today… It will be next year, for sure, because right now, he was happy the way everything was. You being so dense and him, always dreaming to be beside you.

🌻 “Let’s hold hands again, okay, Tenten?”

🌻 Yeah. He will do it next year.

[morganaspendragonss]

For bad things happen bingo (if you’re still taking requests! if not no worries) - worked themselves to exhaustion with 911 LS (and tarlos?) :)

Thanks for the prompt, Anon! As always, please keep prompting me. If you’ve seen a fandom on my blog, chances are I’ll probably write for it! :-)

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: Worked Themselves to Exhaustion

Fandom: 9-1-1: Lone Star

ao3

T.K. wouldn’t call himself clingy. He doesn’t need to be around his boyfriend 24/7; besides which, now that he’s dating Carlos, it’s harder than ever to find time together. They both have hard jobs with long hours, and T.K.’s okay with that. But he hasn’t seen Carlos in three days and he’s starting to worry.

More concerning, he hasn’t heard from Carlos at all today; at the very least, he usually gets a quick check-in at some point. It was something they agreed upon when they first started dating, a reassurance that they’re both okay.

But the firehouse has barely had a moment to rest all week, and T.K. can only assume it’s been the same at the PD, so he tries to think nothing of it. Call after call has been coming in, and the past 24 hours have been an uphill struggle that not even Mateo could smile through. When the shift is over, they’re barely able to mumble a goodbye before heading to their respective homes, looking forward to the following day off. T.K. would do that same, but it’s still radio silence from Carlos even though T.K. knows his shift ended half an hour ago.

So, instead of heading home with his dad, he orders an Uber and heads straight to Carlos’s, concern mounting as he sees the Camaro is missing from its usual spot. He tries calling again, but gets sent straight to voicemail. 

He wants to go inside to make sure Carlos isn’t asleep - though that seems unlikely given the blinds aren’t drawn - but he doesn’t have a key yet so T.K. has to settle for peering through the windows and hoping the neighbours don’t call the cops on him. 

There are no signs of life, as expected, but the thing that concerns him isn’t Carlos’s absence, but the stack of dirty dishes next to the sink. Carlos is meticulous about keeping his space clean and he always washes up after every meal. The stack looks to be at least two days’ worth - something’s definitely wrong.

He sits down in front of the door, watching the road in case Carlos suddenly appears, but there’s nothing. Nothing, either, from the phone, and the ball of anxiety in his stomach grows.

T.K. tries to keep calm, telling himself that if something truly bad had happened, then he would know, but it’s not convincing. They haven’t been dating that long and, besides, he’s not even sure if he believes in any of that stuff anymore. 

The minutes crawl past into half an hour, and then a full hour, and it’s official - T.K.’s panicking. He’s desperate enough to try calling Michelle, begging her number off his dad, which had been a conversation he’d rather have avoided.

(“What do you need Michelle for, are you hurt?”

“No, Dad, I’m fine. I just need to talk to her about Carlos.”

“Carlos is hurt?”)

She picks up on the fourth ring, just as T.K. is beginning to despair of an answer.

“Michelle, hi, it’s T.K.”

“T.K.?” she answers, voice bleary and, fuck, T.K. had forgotten how late it is. “Is everything okay? Is something wrong with you or your dad?”

“No, we’re both fine. Sorry to wake you,” he says awkwardly. “It’s, uh, actually it’s about Carlos.”

“Carlos? Is he okay?” She sounds more awake now and, guilty as he feels, T.K.’s glad she’s there. 

“That’s actually what I wanted to ask you,” he tells her. “I just - I haven’t heard from him at all today, and it’s been a while since I’ve seen him, and I know you guys are friends, and I was wondering if he told you anything?”

“Anything about what?” she asks.

T.K. grimaces. “I… About anything? Like, has something come up at work, or…” he trails off, helpless and shrugs, sighing. Michelle is silent on the other end, and T.K. wonders if he’s just overreacting and she’s going to tell him to damn well leave her alone, though that doesn’t really seem like Michelle’s style - 

“Carlos hasn’t told me anything but I’ve heard through the grapevine that they’re dealing with a pretty big case,” Michelle says, and T.K. could have wept with relief. “Maybe he’s pulling some overtime?”

T.K. almost laughs, then. Because of course he’s been sitting here worrying that something dramatic has gone down when it’s probably just a bit of overtime. He hurriedly thanks Michelle and cuts the call, sighing deeply. 

And yet, a little bit of overtime still doesn’t explain why they haven’t seen each other for days, why Carlos still hasn’t replied to the text T.K. sent nearly six hours ago. And it’s knocking on one am, pretty much two hours after Carlos’s shift ended - not even an important case can warrant that much overtime. 

He has to see Carlos, he decides. Has to know that he’s okay. 

The station isn’t too far from Carlos’s place, so T.K. forgoes an Uber, opting instead to sprint there, the exhaustion from earlier all but forgotten. 

As luck would have it, Carlos is walking - or, more accurately, stumbling - out of the station just as T.K. gets there. He frowns as soon as he spots T.K., but before he can say anything, T.K.’s pulling him into a hug, relief filling him.

“What’re you doing here?” Carlos mumbles.

T.K. pulls away, examining Carlos’s appearance. He looks terrible, face pale and dark bruises underneath his eyes. He seems to be swaying a little, too, and T.K. doesn’t want to let go of him lest he fall over.

“You didn’t answer my text,” he responds, not even caring about how whiny he sounds.

“Sorry, it was just so busy, and -”

“It’s fine,” T.K. interrupts. This isn’t supposed to be a guilt trip; he’s just relieved to see Carlos is okay. “Come on, I’m taking you home.”

“You don’t even have a car,” Carlos points out. “I can drive myself.”

T.K. raises an eyebrow. “You can barely even walk,” he says. “I’m driving, give me your keys.”

Carlos sighs, but doesn’t protest, which is testament to how exhausted he must be. He’s threatened T.K. no less than four times over touching the Camaro; for him to let T.K. drive it is something that would only happen when he’s too drunk or tired to say no.

Carlos is asleep almost as soon as he gets in the car, and T.K. hates to wake him when they get back to his house. He also has to help him undress before they both crawl into bed, T.K.’s own eyes starting to get heavy at this point. He steals Carlos’s phone before he falls asleep, turning off all of his alarms for the next morning and silencing any notifications that could wake him. Smiling to himself, T.K. wraps his arms around Carlos and closes his eyes, finally succumbing to sleep.

*

T.K. wakes before Carlos the next morning. He gets up, careful not to disturb him, and pulls on some boxers, tip-toeing out of the bedroom, though not before snapping a picture of his sleeping boyfriend.

He heads into the kitchen and begins clearing up, washing and putting away the dishes, and picking up the odds and ends that are lying around the room. When he’s done, he sets about making breakfast; T.K.’s no cook, not like Carlos is, but he can manage breakfast.

The smell of bacon must finally wake Carlos, because the next thing T.K. hears is a bang coming from the bedroom, followed by a stream of swearing. He grins and heads over, leaning casually against the door frame as he watches Carlos scramble to get ready.

“What the fuck, T.K.?” Carlos says once he spots him. “Why didn’t you wake me? My shift started hours ago!”

“You don’t have a shift today,” T.K. says, grin widening.

Carlos stares at him as though he’s grown an extra head. “Uh, yeah, I do.”

T.K. shrugs and walks over, reaching out to grab one of Carlos’s hands. “I may or may not have stolen your boss’s number from your phone,” he says. “And I may or may not have told him that you were sick and couldn’t possibly come in today.”

“What the fuck?” Carlos repeats. “T.K. you can’t do things like that! Besides, I’m fine!”

“Yeah, because you actually slept last night,” T.K. counters, suddenly serious. “Look, you were dead on your feet when we left the station. Can you honestly tell me you’ve had more than a couple hours this whole week?”

Carlos opens his mouth as if to argue, then relents, sighing. “Alright, you’ve got a point. And I suppose I could do with a day off.”

“Glad we’re in agreement,” T.K. says, nodding triumphantly. “Come on, I’ve made breakfast.”

Carlos raises his eyebrows, then sniffs. “It’s burning,” he says, and then it’s T.K.’s turn to swear, running out of the bedroom to attempt to salvage the blackened husk of the bacon.

Carlos’s laughter follows him, and T.K. suddenly realises how much he’s missed this. And even though it’s only been three days, it was three days too long; he wants to spend every moment he can with Carlos.

And he’s got a few ideas for how they can make up the lost time.

[miss-edith-cushing]

The post that is about hip dips, but not really

A few weeks ago I stumbled upon Rachel Maksy’s video called ‘Let's Talk About "Hip Dips" (& other insecurities)’. I saw it in my recommendations on youtube, but I clicked on it before I’ve even read the title - seeing two small drawings on the miniature, one called ‘No Dip’ and the other ‘Dip’, was all that I needed to watch it immediately. I never heard of hip dips, never knew it was a problem common enough that it had its own name - all I knew was that the drawing called ‘Dip’ was showing something I saw every day in the mirror, but what I never saw anywhere else. I knew Rachel’s channel, I saw a bunch of her vintage clothing videos, so I was very surprised to see her in sports bra and leggings, with no or barely any make up. She talked about hip dips and what causes them (no, it’s not badly fitted underwear, lack of workout or family curse - it’s your bones, your literal skeleton, so there’s not much you can do about it), about her insecurities (stretchmarks, flat booty, colour of her eyes, hip dips, tummy rolls...), about a lot of other stuff. I don’t remember much from it, but seeing her in those very revealing clothes, showing exactly what parts of her body she doesn’t like, made an impact on me. Something about her figure made me think about myself - the fact that she is both slim and soft, looks ‘feminine’, but is not very thick, has no butt, rather slim hips, those darn hip dips, she’s pale and red-haired... And seeing her made me feel better about my body.

I don’t have a lot to complain about when it comes to my looks, I won the genetic lottery, but there are still parts of my body I don’t like. Or, I should rather say, I learned to not like. I used to think I was mediocre, 5/10, alright, but nothing more. When I was a child, I wanted to be a blonde, but I got over it quite quickly; like many girls, I talked a lot about how fat I was (from age 13 to 16 I used to wear size 38 EU, then lost some weight due to stress), I hated my face covered in acne and always wore stupid bangs that made my poor skin on forehead even worse. But the thing is, I never truly believed it. I never fully and completely thought my bangs were awful or that I was fat. I never hated myself for it. My acne, well, that’s another story. And no one ever said anything bad about those things. Not my family, not my peers, no one. Those were insecurities I created myself, maybe except for acne - my mother used to talk with me about it, but wasn’t mean, just tried to be helpful. We know a lot about the pressure media and society puts on young people, especially women, about their looks, but it’s not what I wanted to talk about today.

When I was 16, someone told me one of the boys from my class called my profile doglike. Oh, I thought, I never realized that, and tried to understand what he meant. My nose looks kinda like Michael Sheen’s, but it’s a little smaller, so I figured it’s about it looking kinda like dog’s head. I never particularly liked my nose, but I still tried to just shrug that comment off. 15 years later, I still remember it. When I was 18, my then best friend told me a few times with snide laughter that I don’t have any butt, just very long back. Oh, I thought, I never realized that, because I never really paid attention to it. When I was 19, a man I was in love with told me my bum looks like it belonged to young Greek boy. Oh, I thought, he is right, that’s very accurate description, but I didn’t knew if he was mean about it or not (now I know he was). When I was 28, I met a girl a few years younger than me, with the same case of flat ass like me, who talks quite often about new excercises she tried, going to the gym, everything she does to make her bum more round. She teases me a little about it and I tease her back, but never to hurt each other. Still, after our conversation about two weeks ago when I talked with her and our other friend on zoom and they discussed yet another excercises and diets, I’ve spent next evening being miserable and thinking about how no one will ever love me, because I have no booty (and I mean, that would be the only reason, how ridiculous is that).

I thought about all of that a lot in recent days. About how lucky I was that the first thing I watched about hip dips was Rachel’s video that named the problem I had and at the very beginning explained it was a matter of my bones - not a bunch of advices about what to wear to hide them or what kind of workout will be helpful to make my hips rounder. How I had no idea that there’s ‘something wrong’ with my body until other people pointed it out and were mean about it. How much discussing these characteristics as something that obviously should be get ridded of, when combined with poor mental state, can throw me into a pit of misery. How on one hand it’s great that thick women are starting being seen as attractive after years and years of simply calling them fat (yes, of course, not all of them, but that’s another topic), but on the other hand I feel more and more repulsive every time I see pictures of influencers or celebrities, so often with their features more or less photoshopped to look juicier. I know I’m babbling a lot here, but I just need to do it, because... I’m so tired of having a body. Of having it so peculiar that today’s fashion rarely have anything for it to offer. Of sewing my own clothes, especially blouses, because nothing really fits my figure how it should. Of not being able to wear some clothes I like, because I would know I look very bad in them and that would make me uncomfortable. Yes, there are some things that don’t make me look 10/10, but I still wear them because I love them so much and I love how I feel in them. Of being aware that other people might find some parts of me unattractive. I’m tired of feeling miserable about myself and I want to find some way to stop it.

One of the things that striked me in Rachel’s video was her confession, quite logical, that wearing vintage clothes, especially wide skirts and dresses, hid her hips and booty and therefore helped her with presenting herself in a way that made her feel attractive. I thought ‘If this video is about insecurities being ridiculous, then why are we talking about hiding those unattractive parts?’ I used to do that too, but for some reason that wasn’t enough for me anymore. I don’t want to hide anymore, I just don’t want to think about it, wear whatever I want - and goddamit, I love skinny high waisted jeans, I don’t want to go back to wearing wide skirts on the days when I feel insecure. So what to do about it, how to not give a damn?

And then, as quite often in the last 1,5 years, Good Omens helped. Every day since June 2019 I see Crowley on my dash, wearing insanely tight clothes, sauntering like he hasn’t full control over his limbs, being so damn skinny, having absolutely no bum whatsoever, looking almost ridiculous, but still being described by fans as, yes, ridiculous, but so loveable. Trying to be cool in a way he thinks is cool, not adjusting completely to current norms. If Crowley was a real woman with the same type of figure as David Tennant, she sure as hell wouldn’t be wearing wide skirts with a petticoat, or padded underwear, or A line dresses. Crowley doesn’t hide who he is, what he finds cool, what is imperfect about him (no, we’re not discussing his sunglasses right now, that’s a topic for another conversation). He’s honest about who he is and what he wants.

And hell, if I need to learn to be like that by buying and wearing black waxed high waisted superskinny jeans, so be it.

I just got the email, the package with my new clothes is just on its way.

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Two halves becomes one whole {4}

Description; You’ve met Bucky and as if that wasn’t enough, he take up more of your thoughts than you care to admit. It seems however, that your brain pays to much attention to him then what’s good, leading to interesting times in the gym.

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 4/9

Word count; 3.432

Warnings; fluffy bucky, flustered reader, suggestive undertones

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

SERIES MASTERLIST

After you had your initial meeting with Bucky, you suddenly saw him everywhere, unlike before. Of course, you knew it wasn't because of you letting go of your fear of seeing him, but it was the next step in the process. After the first meeting, you had left Steve to walk through the next phase with Bucky, though that didn't mean he wouldn't inform you afterwards. After an hour, of what you knew wasn't only a serious conversation, he came knocking at your door. Without hesitating you let him in and before even closing the door he started to talk. To yours and even his surprise, you learned, he said that Bucky had been pretty willing to take the progress further. That was the reason you saw him more, like now.

You were in the gym, one of your practices with Nat in full swing. You had noticed Bucky entering, about halfway into your session. Though you only had gotten a glimpse of him, it was enough to see that he hunched in on himself. You noted how he sat down on a bench at the far end of the gym, where not many people put their stuff. The same moment you knew your attention strayed a bit too long, you felt it. Your legs got swept from underneath you and with a heavy thud, a groan in its follow, you fell on the sparring matt, wrists stinging from trying to catch yourself.

”You need to concentrate”, Nat’s voice sounded from above and behind you. Rolling over from your stomach to back, you saw the redhead standing just a few feet from you. ”How the hell did you get there?” She couldn’t contain the smug expression as she answered. ”Seems your head was lost for longer than I thought”, she chuckled when you narrowed your brows while sitting up. ”You avoided a few blows, before giving me an open space”. You grunted, knowing very well that you only could blame yourself. ”You can’t make yourself fall for her like that”, the sudden voice made you turn to glance over your shoulder, immediately finding the blonde soldier walking towards you. "I'm gonna use that one towards you next time", you responded and heard his chuckle as he now stepped onto the sparring matt. "You need to take me down first", you raised an amused eyebrow to what he said, unable to hide your own smirk while answering. "You know I'm able to". "All too well", his words fittingly came as he stopped before you, smile still present as he stretched out his hand for you to take. Reaching for it, he helped you to a standing position again.

"Should I leave you guys to the showdown or?" Your attention was pulled towards Nat, who had closed the space between the two fo you. You saw the entertainment in her eyes. "Although I owe you since last week, I have my own session to go to", Steve declined and not until him acknowledging Bucky, did you feel the eyes which were on you. Your minor shift didn't go unnoticed by the blonde, which brows knitted together in the same old Steve fashion way, as he glanced towards Bucky's direction.

"When did he come here?" You didn't want the brown-haired man to feel pressured from multiple sets of eyes on him, so you continued looking up at Steve while answering. "A few minutes, maybe", you said in a hushed tone, one which Nat followed upon. "He's the reason her attention strayed", she nodded towards you and Steve's gaze trailed back towards you. "Only good I have an extra set of eyes to help me, how’s he doing?” ”Haven’t talked to him today, although if you remember we set a meeting later this afternoon last time. So, if it is anything hopefully he’ll tell then”, you further answered. You knew he was more than happy Bucky began socialising even the tiniest bit, but something bugged him, you as well. The frown Bucky had the first time meeting you seemed to be staying. Every time you’d met him, he had it, even when Steves was there.

”Feels like he needs it”, his eyes switched between you and Nat, seeming coming to a realisation. ”Well, I should excuse myself so you can continue”. ”It's okay we're done either way. If you don’t want your ass beaten again?” Nat smugly smiled at you, to which you chuckled. ”Without distraction, I think I owe you a face-full of matt”, Steve huffed out a laugh and patted your shoulder, before heading over to the brunette in the other end of the gym. Following Steve with your gaze, you only noticed Nat taking over his former place beside you from the corner of your eye.

”Are you sure you're gonna beat me? Because your distraction is still here...”, you whipped to look at her, greeted by a mockingly raised eyebrow and head tipped the way Steve and Bucky stood. You looked their way, noticing Bucky still sat on the bench. As if feeling your eyes on him, he turned to look at you.

”Piss off”, you playfully elbowed her, even so only a soft smile spread on her features. ”Sure thing, you coming or?” She glanced towards the soldiers, both now standing and warming up for their sparring. ”I’ll stay, need to fix my sorry ass anyway because of all the times I landed on it today”, you both chuckled while walking to where your things were. ”Understandable, can’t have you fall like that on the field, we need you trigger-happy”, you groaned so loud you think even the boys heard it, but with the despise for the nickname you were unable to do anything else. ”Why did he need to come up with that?” You muttered with as much despise rolling off your tongue, as laugh did when Clint mentioned it the first time in the interrogation room, right before an injured Steve had stumbled in. ”He thought it was funny”. ”It isn’t even accurate”, you threw up your hand in despair, the bag hanging on your shoulder inching down. Nat laughed when you muttered a few chosen curse words the archer's way, almost hoping he would hear them. "Complain all you want, he will not let it go”, she said, you let out a sigh while shaking your head, knowing she was right about that fact.

”Oh almost forgot”, you raised a brow, wondering what it was as she took a step back, coming to stand closer to you before whispering. ”Don’t work that ass in front of the boys, think their attention will be as good as yours”, your eyes widened to what she said. ”Jesus Nat!” You all but shouted, to which she only winked at you before walking away again. You debated on chucking your water bottle in the back of her head, but the eyes you felt bore into the back of your neck, made you conceal yourself.

As you turned around, you met Steves eyes, crinkled in the corners because of his smile. He knew you and the redhead get along well, also about your antics of teasing each other, so he had probably already figured that was the cause of your reaction. Although when you turned to Bucky, his eyes were set on you, a puzzled look on his face. You prayed to whatever god that he hadn’t heard a word Nat just said to you.

”You staying?” Steve asked, breaking the silence which had settled when only the three of you were left. ”Yeah”, you tried shrugging away from the thoughts Nat just planted in your mind. ”Will round up a few things, then I’ll be on my way”, you smiled as you began to walk further into the gym, passing them. Both nodded before engrossing in their conversation, mainly led by Steve, while they walked to the middle of the sparring matt.

You worked through your exercises while trying not to get distracted by the sounds echoing in the gym. Grunts, huffs and moans of displeasure together with heavy thuds and slams of someone falling into the matt was the background sound for you while training. You were happy that most of the machines you needed to use in the machine park were located further in, making you unable to see any of the soldiers sparring. However, even your luck seemed to have run out. When you only had one exercise left, you found yourself walking to the front row of machines. They were lined up alongside the sparring-mats, a safe few feet away although not enough for you. You now had front-seat to the sparring of the two super soldiers.

While piling weights on each side of the machine, Nat’s words kept ringing in your head like a festive banner-waving around. ”Bet ya’ would be laughing in my face if you saw me right now”, you grumbled to yourself imagining Nat standing beside you, laughing while you only tried doing your routine. You stood on the slightly angled platform, putting the top of the machine on your shoulders, hooking off the safety mechanism and started to squat. Clint was the one who had showed you how to use this machine, like the rest of them. Even though he didn’t use it so much himself, he said it could be beneficial for you, which you smacked him in the back of the head for saying. But now you maybe could muster up thanks to the man because yes, it had its effects.

One set in, one more to go and that were when you heard one of the biggest thuds yet. You’d already locked the machine so it wouldn’t come crashing down on you while resting between sets, so turning around you made in no time. Bucky was on the floor, Steve standing and smiling victoriously above him.

”You boys doing good?” The question slipped out from you before you even had the chance to think about it. ”Only minor distractions that’s all”, Steve's laugh eased into a boyish smile while Bucky staggered up to his feet, his furrow gone as he glared at Steve. ”Sure. Just play safe, don’t want anyone of you hurt”, you chuckled, while climbing out of the machine, the last set be damned. ”You don’t want to join us?” Steve asked genuinely, but one look at him told you he was up to something. ”No not really, I would be pinned to the matt more than standing up if going up against any of you”, you didn’t think about your choice of words before seeing Bucky’s raised eyebrows. Maybe he was just shocked about you including him in what you said, but even with his super-soldier enhancement and the metal arm, you highly doubted that was the only thing he reacted to. ”And I have other things to do”, you excused with a smile as you began heading towards the exit. Your eyes didn't stray from the door, not until you heard the baritone voice you’ve gotten used talking to the last two weeks, call out.

”Later?” You turned around, immediately meeting Bucky's gaze, which seemed to never have let you go. Your confusion probably showed in a puzzled expression as he continued his few worded question. ”Talking session?” You caught on quickly after that. ”Of course Bucky, I’ll meet you this afternoon as we decided”, you sent him a small smile and he nodded, turning to Steve who nodded goodbye over his friend shoulder.

You knew that therapy was a charged word, especially for Bucky, so it had come naturally to rename your meetings as soon as you become a regular part of them. Since four weeks back, you've met him three times a week for talking session, spending more time with him than anyone, besides Steve that was. It hadn't been easy in the beginning, the former soldier sparsely, if ever, initiated topics to talk about. Neither did his few worded answers help you, yet you didn't deem the sessions unproductive, as you came to recognise his patterns and triggers. Getting to know these were detrimental, as even Steve seemed oblivious to some, as he pressured for answers on the wrong topics. You had mentioned this to him a week or two ago, since then you noticed how he gave you more room to work with. At first, you feared he got too apprehensive speaking himself, but he soothed your nerves by repeating what he had said to convince in the beginning. You were the professional. Since then, you saw how Bucky slowly relaxed and crept out from the shadows and so did Steve. He started bringing it up often, of course when his friend wasn't nearby, that you were the difference which really helped the former soldier. You argued that there wasn't a difference between you and the other Bucky had worked with before you even knew he was in the tower, yet Steve didn't yield saying he never opened up and to a person quite as fast before.

You stopped your writing for a second, shaking your head while watching a few of the notes you had scribbled down on the paper before you. You couldn’t understand how Steve thought you were the cause for Bucky's slow but steady socialisation with the team. Especially not when reading some of the topics you thought the session today could orientate around. You weren't afraid of silence during these meetings, though, you always had some questions prepared in advance to occupy both of you. Because you knew, he wouldn't feel as comfortable having you studying him in silence as in dialogue. Glancing at the time you saw it was only a few minutes until you would meet Bucky, so you began making your way up there.

You didn’t run into Steve any time walking to Bucky’s room, so when you knocked on his door, you assumed you would see a blonde head greeting you. Only that it didn’t happen. Bucky opened the door, his appearance much different from the first time you saw him. He stood straighter, the height difference separating you much more apparent now. His hair, although damp from what you guessed was his post-workout shower, seemed better kept. Neither did his eyes look as hollow, his face radiated instead of the dullness it had before.

”Hello Bucky”, you greeted him and he mumbled out a greeting before gesturing for you to enter. It was the first time he did that, motioning for you to pass him first instead of he turning and walking in. You weren’t surprised by it but simply didn’t expect it. With a smile, you nodded thanks and walked in. You quickly scanned the room, something you found yourself doing every time coming here, this time perhaps more in search for the blonde man.

”Steve hasn’t come yet”, you acknowledge finding his usual seat empty. Turning around you watched Bucky just about letting go of the door handle, the wooden piece now closed. ”You want to wait for…”, you hadn’t the chance to finish the sentence before he cut you off. ”He won’t come”, he began, probably noticing the blunt tone of his voice when you let out a shocked oh because when continuing, he uncrossed his arms looking down at the floor. ”I thought I could talk with only you this time”, he glanced up from the locks which had fallen in his face. ”If that’s alright?” You smiled at his words, happy with the trust that had begun to settle. ”Of course it’s, you’re the one choosing, we’re just here to help”, you answered him sincerely glancing down at the armchair Steve usually sat in. Perhaps Bucky saw your hesitation because his voice shortly made itself known again. ”It’s ok”, glancing over your shoulder, you saw him slowly walk closer to his usual place. Sitting down, you saw that he did the same, smiling for yourself as it seemed he was a bit more comfortable in your presence than usual.

”So how did the training go?” You didn't think any further about what your question could lead into, not until you saw the familiar tug of a smile in the corner of his lip. ”Good, until Steve whopped my ass one time”, you watched him as it looked like he drifted away in the thought. ”Only one time?” You asked him. The teasing tone which you hid in your voice, instead showed itself as a bit back smirk. ”You think he did it more times?” ”I am positive”, you tried holding your smirk invisible for the man opposite you. ”You’re right he did it a few more times” when he’d said this his eyes flickered away from yours, the frown, which you hadn’t noticed until now hadn’t been present, taking its place. ”Is there something bothering you Bucky?” It looked like you dumped him in ice by his wide eyes snapping to you. ”You just have the same frown Steve sometimes get when in thought, is it something you want to talk about?” You hurried to explain so he wouldn’t get uncomfortable and when he kept looking shocked, you started trying to excuse yourself, thinking you missed a trigger. ”I’m sorry…”

While you got worried trying to find a fault in what you had done, Bucky was in his own head. He zoned out as soon as you wondered if something was wrong, something you noticed simply because of his frown. He was shocked you asked or rather, that you noted it in the first place, but he reminded himself it was your job to do so. No, it wasn’t your job to help him. Steve had asked for it as a favour and while he wasn’t upset about the fact, it bugged him. He didn’t know what you were to Steve, you were close, almost too close to only be friends. The thought of the first time he saw you with his friend made him remember how pleasant your simple present had been. How you had treated him as someone and not something. Yet that was not all, he hadn't needed to verbally express everything he thought. You could read him easier than others, almost even better than Steve. It was nice somehow, not needing to word everything, yet he would feel more at ease if he could've done the same with you. The only things he knew about you he got from observing, besides your name from asking Steve the first time. He knew the blonde noticed his curiosity in you, yet he never brought up the conversation, standing by his words he said after you left the first time. If you want to know more about her, just ask.

What brought him back from his thoughts was your sudden movement and his eyes instantly snapped to you. Your eyes continuously flicked over his features and though he didn't know exactly why he tried reassuring you. ”It’s ok, it ain’t anything I just…”.

You couldn’t tell what he was about to say and after the zone out he just had you didn’t dare to guess either. So you stayed silent until he continued by own accord. He looked up at you, eyes searching your face, the insecurity shining in his own.

”I just wanted to ask you a question?” You furrowed your brows, this was not in the least what you imagined. You nodded, not wanting to offend him if this is what bugged him. ”How are you?” Bucky cringed when asking you, but you couldn't help a soft smile spreading from spreading. ”I’m good, thank you for asking”, you looked at Bucky standing opposite you, he was still timid, but something began telling you that he held himself back. ”Do you have more questions?” You tried saying it gently, mainly as you have seen how tense he became before. You watched him and you saw him take a deep breath and nod.

”I have an idea if your all ears?” His head tilting answered your question, which made you proceed to tell him the plan you thought about before the session. ”Because I ask you a lot of things, getting to gradually know you… it would only be fair that you ask me some in return”, you purposed the thought and even if you couldn’t read his reaction of it being good or bad, his answer confirmed it. ”It would”, his answer came in a more self assure tone and the smile he gave you was the first one you’ve seen been directed towards you.

Taglist: @flowerchild1216​ @krystallynx​ @haven-in-writing​ @thejamesoldier​

Series taglist: @buckysforeverprincess​

[kenzieam]

Save My Life - Chapter One

@jewels2876​ ​​​​​ @moonbeambucky​ ​​​​​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​ ​​​​​ @iammarylastar​@captstefanbrandt​ ​​​​​ @badassbaker​ ​​​​​ @pinknerdpanda​ ​​​​​

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.

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Warnings: Definitely M. Language, violence, adult situations, graphic mentions of horrible things, traumatic death and descriptions.

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!!!!!TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!!!

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Paramedic Bucky Barnes has seen it all and it’s definitely taken a toll on his mind and body, witnessing senseless death, all but wading through it at times as he is the first responder to so many ghastly accidents and mishaps. The widow of one of his former patients haunts him long after his brief, chaotic contact with her and destiny conspires to cross their paths again. Can the broken man and grieving woman find peace together?

Feedback is life, y’all.

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EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER

With a growl and a groan, Bucky rolled over onto his back and threw his arm over his eyes. His body throbbed in a way that, while unwelcome, was far from unpleasant and he reached down, palmed his aching cock through the plain black boxer briefs he usually slept in.

It was so much easier to stumble to the shower if he only had to tangle with briefs, not try to pull a t-shirt off his muscular frame, it wasted precious seconds that could be better spent gasping for breath under the spray, hands pressed to the wall and bowed forwards, water washing away the nightmares that had torn him from uneasy sleep to begin with.

The dichotomy wore at him, even as he relived the horrors of her husband’s messy final moments of life, his body yearned for her, his cock hardening while his mind played the reel over and over, the sightless eyes, the crunching of the man’s ribcage beneath his hands.

There was no use fighting it, he’d tried so many times, only to lose every battle.

His pleasure crested, peaked and he groaned in release, his cock pulsing thick ropes of his seed onto his heaving stomach but the physical gratification didn’t touch the emotional turmoil and he dropped his hand with another groan, squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth until the sensations faded, both the ecstasy and the guilt.

Finally, he moved, hauling himself off the bed, off the tangled, soaked sheets and grimaced; the evidence of his twisted mind drying on his belly. Stumbling over last night’s jeans he shuffled into the bathroom and turned the water to scalding, scowling at his face in the mirror, scrubbing a hand over his stubble.

Would he finally get his shit together today? What compelled him, day after day, to continue like this? Sure, not every call ended the way that one had, but the good ones had long stopped overpowering the bad, their shadows too dark to chase away.

His phone jangled, clashing with his already raw nerves. Would such a simple sound ever stop eliciting such a heart-stopping response in him? He reached for the receiver, his seed still painting his belly, pulling at the downy hair there as it dried and silently held it to his ear. The voice on the other end knew he was there.

“Hey.” Steve said quietly.

“Hey.”

“Is today the day?” The day you stop this, quit the job that’s slowly killing you and start putting yourself back together again?

Bucky exhaled, a harsh yet anemic sound. “No, not today.”

Steve, his partner of eleven years, the man who usually drove the ambulance while Bucky worked so hard in the back, sighed quietly. Closer than brothers, he could read Bucky like an open book, but it went both ways and Bucky could hear the small smile on his face too. Although it was slowly killing both of them, there was nobody they’d rather die beside.

“See you at the station?”

“Yeah, an hour.”

“Coffee.”

“Your turn.” Bucky grunted, slamming the receiver down. Their shorthand baffled most, pissed off others, but you couldn’t be stripped bare emotionally in front of someone for over a decade and not connect like that.

One last lingering glance in the mirror, a brief grimace at the haunted cast in his blue eyes, then he continued into the shower, letting the water wash away both the sweat and the tears.

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“Still having nightmares?” Steve asked, glancing Bucky’s way before returning his attention to the road. On their way to a frequent flyer found semi-conscious and, no doubt, more than semi-intoxicated, sprawled on the ground outside a local McDonald’s, there was a mild sense of urgency but an even larger sense of ‘same-old, same-old’ weary acceptance.

“Never stop.” Bucky replied shortly, barely looking up from poking listlessly at the computer screen mounted on the dash.

“About her?”

Bucky exhaled, eyes falling closed until the pain, while by no means gone, diminished enough to allow him to draw the next breath. “Yeah.”

“Man, that was over a year ago and you haven’t seen her since. What gives?” Steve demanded, slapping the steering wheel with the palm of his hand before cursing under his breath and hitting the sirens again to persuade a stubborn car out of their lane.

Bucky mused that he’d probably hear those god-damned sirens in hell.

“I don’t know-”

“Her husband died-”

“I know!”

“And I’m sure the last person she wants to see is the guy who was covered in his blood literally crushing the man’s ribs!”

“I know!” Bucky bellowed, slamming his fist on the dash then pulling it back with a grunt to cradle against his muscular chest. He’d need the full use of his hands, both massive paws that somehow could be so gentle and precise while intubating or placing an IV line, to deal with the patient they were now pulling up on.

“You using again?” Steve asked, voice low, bordering on a mix of angry and disappointed.

Bucky turned away, opening the door and jumping out before the bus had come to a full stop.

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Lev glanced around briefly before dropping her eyes again. She felt supremely uncomfortable here, despite the fact that she was one of the more in-control attendees; she wasn’t weeping ceaselessly into a handkerchief, or burying her face in her hands while her shoulders shook, or muffling her wails on the shoulder of the person beside her. She was keeping it together.

Wasn’t she?

Eighteen months since Clint’s violent and unexpected death and this was her first meeting for grieving survivors, held in an aging school gymnasium that smelled like old socks and even older sweat, the wood floor marked and scarred with years of abuse.

Her friend Wanda had finally put her foot down, after a year and a half of back and forth, of, ‘I’m fine, just tired’ excuses and tearful limbo and all but dragged Lev to her doctor, where the kindly soul who may or may not be hiding pain just as visceral as hers and therefore knew what he was talking about had suggested this place, as an alternative to the pharmaceutical option that had been the first choice, and rejected so vehemently by Lev to warrant it’s proposal.

She glanced around. The middle-aged woman who’d lost her husband when he’d choked to death right in front of her during their weekly Sunday brunch, three chairs over in the large circle; the man who’d suffered through agonizing minutes of his wife pleading for help over her phone, then her final screams of terror as her car’s throttle had malfunctioned on the freeway and she’d careened at top speed into an embankment, instantly dying but taking with her his unborn son as well, five chairs over; then…. Him.

Lev startled slightly, dropping her gaze before it could be returned. Her memories of that time were so scattered and chaotic, stained with Clint’s blood and the sound of that goddamn siren, but she remembered him, or more accurately, the pain in his supernatural blue eyes.

Built like a marine, massive and muscled, shoulder-length hair pulled back into a loose bun, clad not in his uniform but a simple red long-sleeved Henley and jeans, hulking and intimidating until you looked closer and saw the anguish, was the paramedic that had tried so hard to save her husband’s life that lifetime ago.

Her heart sped up and she focussed obsessively on her cuticles. She wished suddenly for Wanda, but she’d insisted on attending tonight by herself and consequently was now alone as a tsunami of memories crashed over her. The incongruity of smells: bitter antiseptic, raw panic and body expulsions, warm male musk and blood; the duelling opposites that had all but torn her in half: frightening, in-your-face reality as Clint’s blood dried on her face coupled with the dream-like quality of the whole drawn-out nightmare.

How did that man cope? Dealing with that life and ugly death daily? Was that why he was here now, slumped in his chair and listening to other lambs to the slaughter open their veins in wretched attempts to assuage the pain?

She was called gently upon to speak, to give her name and reason why she was here; what screaming banshee howled unending torment in her ears, but she shook her head, burrowing further in on herself and muttering a vow to make herself talk next time, no matter how uncomfortable.

An eternity and an eye-blink later, the meeting ended, and Lev stood stiffly, her body raw and pulsating with fresh grief. For lack of anything else to do, she wandered to the refreshment table, knowing she was far too shaky yet to attempt to drive herself home and picked up a pre-poured paper cup of juice and pack of generic cookies. She’d just sat at an empty table and touched the cup to her lips when a quiet, tentative voice washed over her.

“Hi.”

She glanced at him, quickly back down again. “Hi.” Her voice was stronger than she felt, and she was grateful for the support of the table and chair.

“May I sit?” There was a puzzling hesitancy in his voice, as if he expected screaming rejection, but Lev was too tired to push someone else away, it was too wearying keeping her own mind and body quiet.

At her nod, he sat, picking at his own pack of cookies, seeming to be warring with himself about something.

“I remember who you are, you know.” Lev added, watched his shoulder slump with mingled relief and trepidation.

“I didn’t know… if you…. did or not-” He mumbled, trailing off uncomfortably.

“Hard to forget that day.” Lev whispered. She hesitated before adding. “I never got a chance but… thank you… for trying.”

He nodded, jaw tight, not lifting his eyes from the table.

“How do….” She didn’t want to ask, but God, she did too. “How do you manage to do that… as a job I mean?”

He smirke humorlessly, gesturing with one massive hand to the assembly around them.

“Does it help?”

He shrugged. “More than the company counselling. A friend of mine suggested it a couple years ago; I try to come when I can but….” He cleared his throat. “What about you?”

Lev dropped her eyes again, puzzlingly embarrassed. “My first time. My friend… she made me see a doctor-”

He held up a large hand. Say no more.

“How are you sleeping?” He asked quietly, lifting his hypnotizing gaze to hers again, which she quickly averted, in parts shocked and soothed by the tractor-pull that seemed to emanate from his supernatural blue eyes.

The question stung somehow, and it was so much easier to bite at that then lay bare the devastation beneath. “How do you?” Even as the question left her lips she recoiled, horrified with herself and pressed her hand to her mouth.

He flinched, barely perceptively, but the dark rings under his eyes answered her.

“God, I’m sorry-”

He shook his head, held up a massive hand again. “It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not!” What was wrong with her, biting the first hand that extended any type of friendliness? “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“This place… feeling this way… it makes you raw.” He replied, glancing up at her before looking away and gesturing with a chin jerk to a nearby table. “Sweetest old lady you’ll ever meet over there, but once she comes here and starts remembering her husband’s death again, turns into an old hag.” He twisted the paper cup in his hands, completely engulfing it before taking a sip. “Later, she’ll sit there with a stunned look on her face, like she’s waking up from a black-out.”

“I don’t want to be an old hag.”

A faint smile touched his full lips, temporarily lighting up his unbelievably handsome face. “You’d never be.” A faint pink flush and he looked away again.

Lev suddenly couldn’t breathe. The room, the man across from her, were taking all the air and she stumbled to her feet. “I have to go.”

He watched her, face falling and tried to stand but Lev lifted her hand, an emotional traffic cop, and shook her head. “I’m fine.”

It was a lie, and both knew it, but he only watched sadly as she hurried out the gymnasium doors to the darkness outside, head bowed.

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“You never answered me.” Steve spoke suddenly, breaking the silence in the bus as they took a rare break between calls, sitting in the parking lot of a local coffee-shop, trying to wolf down their breakfast sandwiches before the radio blared and re-established reality.

Bucky grunted, knowing what his partner was referring to but hoping that he’d drop it if he played silly buggers.

“James.” Shit, he was serious, using Bucky’s given name.

Bucky sighed, staring out the windshield. “It’s under control.”

“Is it?” Steve all but shouted. “Shooting H? Seriously, man. How do you have that ‘under control’?! What the fuck, James!”

“I don’t do it all the time-”

“Once is too many!”

“Fuck you. You got someone to come home to-”

“DO NOT put that on me, asshole. You’ve had plenty of women hoping for your last name, what the hell are you always waiting for?”

“I’m-”

“Stop thinking about that girl, it’s never going to happen!”

A bitter retort stung Bucky’s tongue and he knew if he spit it out it would poison their enduring friendship, weaken it just when he needed it the most but he was saved from sabotaging himself by the damned radio itself, the dispatcher’s efficient voice relaying maximum information with minimal syllables.

Glaring daggers at Bucky, obviously having a damn good idea what he had been about to say, Steve snorted angrily and grabbed the microphone, snapping an affirmative before slamming the vehicle in gear and hitting the sirens.

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Levi was not at the next meeting and Bucky felt a curious mix of relief and disappointment. Steve was right, this was never going to happen and, even if it did, he had no right dragging this girl down into his shit, not when she was still trying to dig herself out of her own. But still, he was disappointed; she was the rare light in his darkness, had been since the moment he’d first seen her, even with all the chaos and horror around her, cradling her dying husband’s head in her lap, pleading with someone, anyone to help. When their eyes had locked, a visceral, physical jolt had shot through him, almost painful in its intensity and he’d become personally invested in doing all he could to help, if not the patient he’d been dispatched for, then her.

Anything for her.

He was a sad fuck.

He’d barely heard the meeting going on around him, the others whispering their shame and pain, the answering murmurs from fellow sufferers. He rarely spoke at these, was rarely called on anyway because the overseer, a thin, bantam rooster of a man named Tony, who still lost all confidence and swagger when remembering his dear wife, Pepper, who’d passed suddenly from an aneurysm a few years previous, knew who Bucky was and why he was here.

He had no personal stories of loss to tell, but shared the pain of every single death he witnessed, every patient he tried to save and usually ended up only managing to usher into the afterlife with some semblance of comfort anyway.

He left the meeting that night alone, curled up on the floor at the end of his bed and found a vein.

[howdoib]

Ice Cream

A Happy Holiday and a Merry Truce Day to you @inessen-kryo , my lovely gift receiver. I give thee Amethyst Ocean ice-cream-based fluff.

The void surrounded and melted around him swirling in gentle musings and quiet dreams. Ice cream. And suddenly the void was gone. Danny opened his eyes. Ice cream sounds really fucking good right now. His leg swung over the deep red couch and popcorn crunched beneath his feet. 

Tucker lay comatose on the scarlet rugand the oversized TV spun the little circle of another episode. Jotaro was running across the street now on the screen. Danny had watched this episode. Ice cream first. 

He stumbled towards the kitchen- or more accurately the mini food court in Sam's basement. The carpet was smooth tile floor now and the appliances nearly blinded him with their shining glow. He reached for the freezer door and froze. Beneath his hand the handle felt deceptively warm. Is it kind of rude to eat people's food without permission? Well. I mean Sam is rich. Yeah well just cause she has the ice (Danny smirked) doesn't mean she's not a person.

Fine. He released the handle and headed back to the couches. But ice cream. His stomach lightly gurgled.

"Let's see here… ice cream… ice cream.." He mulled aloud. Maybe he could go the store real fast? Nah. He was broke. Uhhhhh… Go home and grab some?? But why tho?? He could always make some. How???? I don't have any way to- he rubbed his neck. His hands were ice cold. Holy shit I'm dumb.

The air felt heavy around him and pushing his senses outwards he felt the teensiest bits of it. It was so much like himself and it was everywhere. He drew it close. 

 Sam hadn't meant to leave their little sleepover downstairs- especially not with Danny having fallen asleep on her arm. Which wasn't adorable at all. But unfortunately she had this thing called plants and physical health and while Tucker and Danny may not follow a set schedule Sam sure as heck would. So friends over or not when it was 5 O' clock Sam got up (an hour of sleep be damned), dragged her way over to the greenhouse (oh to be cursed a nightowl) and watered her godforsaken plants. And when that was done she dragged her way over to the basement gym and did her cardio and her stretches and her lifting. And only then, could she drag her way back to sleep.

Today, obviously, was no exception. Her lillies were watered and her flytrap fed. The dainty orchids sprinkled with ice and her roses trimmed. The mulch was shifted and the greenhouses temperature checked. Finally, with every bit of humidity controlled, and everything all as it should be, Sam was off to work out.

First came stretches which were easy and menial, but when you don't stretch? Holy shit that's when you're sore. And of course who could forget that good ol' cardio.This day (if that's what you call five in the fricken morning) was dedicated to technique. Specifically martial arts. Which was fine- great actually. Throughout the week as she lifted weights or ran all she had thought about was when for she could feel the satisfying thump of sand and the swooshes of each limb straining and trembling in perfect form for hours rather than just a 20 minute run through. 

The bag thunked beneath her quick fists. Her legs stepped forward and back, dancing and spinning on her toes. Knees bent and bouncing. Her stomach growled. Shit. I'm trying to gain muscles not lose weight. 

Her fists froze by the punching bag. She could feel her lungs panic for air. The legs beneath her felt just a bit too wobbly. Uhhhhh how do I fix this? Yes! Carbs. Protein. 

Sam pulled herself away from that mesmerizing bag and towards the door. With a drag of her hand it was dark again. The door swung out and gently thundered shut. Her bare feet padded lightly across the hallway and towards the little kitchen area. She opened the door and

oh. That's beautiful. 

All around her were glowing bits of green, hovering and dancing through the air like pollen caught in the light.. Ceiling, walls, and floor- every last appliance, every last furnishing- had sprinkling of dots upon them. The world was cast in irradiant green. And Danny- Danny was at the center of it all. 

The lights thickened near him, bathing him in heavenly lighting. Little specks of this glowing dust clung to his eyelashes and danced in his midnight hair like stars. His skin seemed to glow and maybe it really did. Oh and his eyes- blue sure, but shining so emerald, so bright. His dark brows furrowed together in concentration. Facing down towards- 

 Danny's eyes were assaulted by a blinding light on the light.

"What the fuck are you doing?!!" 

He looked up, his hair swirling a swirling halo "Oh hey Sam. Just making ice cream."

Sam looked down at the goop dripping from his cupped hands.

"Is that what you call that?" She said dryly. 

"Well… I mean it's not going perfectly to plan but-" His gaze snapped up. Sam's entire skin was dripping with sparkling beads. Her golden hued skin lining the curve of her lean arms. Her collarbone glimmering softly and her lips a soft pink without her usual dark gloss. Wait does Sam wear makeup??? Oh wait yeah, duh. Her arms flexed lightly. A little dot of green floated lazily across her face. Her eyes were a swirling galaxy of ectoplasm stars and a deep violet vortex. Her hair was tussled and he could hear her heavy breathe from here. She wasn't wearing her usual black band of a choker and her neck was tantalizing slender and just beneath her neck and smooth collarbones he could see the curve of-

"Why do you look like you came back from war?" 

"Deflection. Classic." Sam said, "but if you must know I was working out. You know, like people who wanna be strong."

Danny's eyes snapped to her crossed arms. Looks pretty strong to me. His cheeks felt warm against the cold of the air. Shit. Now I don't have time to unpack all that but-

"Um. Yeah. So ice cream." He turned back to the goop in his hands. Totally not just to avoid looking at the thin but definite curves of her strong body. Ice cream. Yes ice cream. He shoved some ectoenergy into his hands. Oops. Uhhh maybe ice??

Sam sat down at one of the counter bar-style stools. "You know you can just get ice cream out of the freezer, right?"

He could feel her gaze piercing him. It was hard to think of the light and airy feel of ice cream.

"Can't. I'm emotionally invested now." He lightly proclaimed.

"Whatever." She rested her smooth jaw on her hand. Her arm flexed again and she leaned forward slightly. Shit. 

Oh yeah I gotta- I'm making ice cream. It looked airier now. He shot out a burst of cold. 

"DANNY! What did you do?!" Her mouth was wide open with uproarious laughter and her entire body curled inwards. The ice cream had exploded everywhere. The cabinets were splattered and ceiling stained.

"Uhhh I-" Sam was still laughing. He felt his body shaking. "I made ice cream…"

She pounded her fist on the table. "Ice cream!" She howled. "Is that what you call that?"

Danny felt his face split open. He was laughing too now.

"Ye-ah." He dug out from his throat. "Ice cream."

[artificialqueens]

learning to be silent (multi) — chapter three - roza

[ summary ] : the short program for grand prix qualifications has begun in grenoble, france and while some might be riding above and beyond expectations, some are cracking under the pressure.

[ author's note ] : hope y'all enjoy, finally realized I'll make two chapters for the short program as it was beginning to get quite long to my liking, also that gives me more planning and space — lily.

AO3 / My Tumblr / (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`)

— *.✧

It was officially setting in for Shea that the short program for the ladies single skate was beginning, even if they had been training and she had given her time and dedication to the competition at hand, a part of her felt unsure if it was truly happening or a completely delusional dream.

The arena itself had an audience of about 4,000 which was definitely not the biggest number but considering the arena size and it was sold out completely, both the Short and Long program final days, Shea was proud to be a part of the experience, though experience didn't win you medals, it did give you exposure.

Being in the first group wasn't a blessing or a curse, she didn't know exactly what she was up against: there was no accurate way to predict figure skating results. Of course Sasha and Brooke were a shoo in to win but you never knew if today was the right one. One small slip or under rotation on a GOE could be the difference between sitting out and winning a medal.

Her Team USA jacket covered her costume as she stretched around the Kiss & Cry. She spotted out of the corner of her eye Katya Zamolodchikova who had covered herself in a large coat, looking beyond happy to see her fellow Russian competitor even if she (herself) had moved now to train in America. It was sweet of her to come and see Sasha perform, as if she needed the luck though it only increased media attention and didn't deter her from absolute madness of press.

Shea began to realize that, behind the perfectly tuned machine that was Katya, there lived a heart of care and love for her Russian sisters. She apparently had a special bond with Sasha, who she lived with, according to Sasha herself during a long conversation with Shea at the rink yesterday.

"First to skate, representing Australia, please welcome Courtney Act."

"Premier à patiner, bienvenue, représentant de l’Australie, Courtney Act!"

Shea couldn't focus on Courtney who had begun skating. it was difficult to warm up however considering her want to scope out the competition. Choosing to do just an unsurprising medley of mambo. It wasn't anything too surprising music wise; she knew Courtney well enough to know she had taken many a latin dance class and enjoyed the style that came with the dancing compared to something slower or with lyrics.

Courtney always had good energy, but that didn't make up for her average technical scores. She was very talented, but unfortunately talent wasn't enough in figure skating,. Shea both admired her and thought she was the dumbest person alive, and she wasn't sure which was more correct. She knew This sport was changing and evolving faster than anyone could anticipate and the only thing left to do was adapt or be left behind: Courtney was slugging behind.

Shea couldn't name anyone else who deliberately asked to not have any quad's in her programs, the other girls at least tried and with good reason: risk was being awarded nowadays over artistry. Shea could fall on every one of her jumps and still get a higher overall score than Courtney, it put less of a worry in her mind.

On the plus side she perfectly landed her triple axel and made it look absolutely stunning. Courtney had definitely the greatest stage presence of her competitors, despite her safe choices. The only competitors who could give Courtney a run for her money in the charisma department were the Russian girls, who were specifically trained to rack up points in any possible way. Of course they’re good at everything.

Not paying much attention until the final few notes, Shea smiled and clapped for her fellow skater who ended with a camel spin. Courtney’s arms were held out, the tassels of her pink and red dress shaking along with her hands. Shea could feel that Courtney also knew it wasn't a winning short program. And yes, there was always the free dance, but with the competition as tight as ever, if you couldn't even catch up on the first day you could kiss that medal goodbye.

The blonde picked up the two bear plushies thrown on the ice for her before meeting her coach who could only hug her as she tried not to burst into tears, the Australian keeping her dignity and self respect in high regard as she sat with her coach and her girlfriend, who she recognized as Willam, not a skater but an established actress who was sweet enough to always come and support her. The Kiss & Cry now obtained by the Aussie who patiently awaited her scores, knowing no matter what number it showed she'd at least have a solid three minutes to be in first place.

"The scores please."

The music dimmed as the audience hushed, the focus all turned towards the screens that would illuminate the judges score. Shea knew in her gut that it wouldn't be enough to keep Courtney in the race for the Grand Prix final, no matter how badly the blonde wanted it to happen.

"Courtney Act has earned in the short program, a total combined score of 72.08. She is currently in first place."

"Courtney Act a obtenu dans le programme court, un score total combiné de 72,08, elle est actuellement en première place!"

Courtney nodded in approval, A smile dimly flashed across her lips; she’d been expecting about an average score. Willam rubbed her shoulders and mumbled into her hair before walking her over to the first place chair where she sat alone, waiting to be replaced in a few minutes. Shea rubbed her hands together and sat down next to Bob and Adore, who anxiously watched the events on the ice. Adore wouldn’t go until last in the second group,  so she had a while to warm up beforehand. Still, she refused until she saw Shea skate for herself.

Yuhua and Jinkx both went after Courtney, who was already sulking in the corner with her coach and Willam about her scores and what she needed to do to improve for her other competitions. Yuhua had just barely pulled in front of Courtney, her attempt at a quad saving her from the bottom.

Jinkx, who had dominated the competition when Shea began her adventure as a senior skater was stumbling, to her complete surprise, she under-rotated her quad lutz and fell on her triple axel. Although she had gotten up immediately and skated through beautifully, presentation wasn't everything and her Grade of Execution scores showed that.

Shea and Brooke had been enraptured from the moment Jinkx began to sway downhill. She was the oldest competitor in their qualifications. There was a confidence growing in Shea’s chest as she glared up at the screen for Jinkx' score to be announced. She pulled her hair back and checked her skate guards as everyone watched the utter shame on Jinkx’ face wiped off with an obvious fake smile when "85.05" was announced. some reaction out of the room considering the press around her as the Russian immediately stood up and ran out of the way, wanting to be alone, It wasn't a wonderful day for Jinkx Monsoon.

She was currently holding the reign at first but looking at who was next, it wouldn't be too long of a first place finish.

"Next to skate, representing Russia, please welcome Sasha Velour."

"Après le skate, représentant la Russie, veuillez accueillir Sasha Velour."

The crowd seemed to completely jump to its feet, Shea smiled as she gave a small cheer for the blonde who met eyes with her, noticing that sections of the crowd were spilt with fans waving and screaming with the tri-colored colors of the Russian flag, of course there was always to be at least a corner huddled of Russians when it came to figure skating competitions but being in Europe where travel was twice as simple meant a large amount of traveling support for Sasha, who deserved the love and appreciation, she was their gold star after all.

Sasha couldn't help but feel a smile gaze upon her lips once she was announced aloud, the consistent loud applause and screaming, chanting in Russian definitely helped.

There was always an odd sense of urgency when she would skate, it wasn't the pressure of winning, she of course needed to, it was her damn job to do so but all nerves always melted away when she skated, figure skating was about the story and connection you made as you graciously racked up those points and scores at the minuscule chance you'd even accomplish something— let alone win the gold and that prize money.

Shea couldn't help but glance over at Katya who had gotten up from her seat when Jinkx must've finished skating, approaching Sasha quickly with a genuine smile across her face as she took the younger figure skater in her arms and groaning in happiness, squeezing her tight, almost mauling her over with the sheer size and volume of her fur coat that was covering Sasha.

"Я очень горжусь тобой!"

The Russian wasn't exactly something the American could obviously pick up on but judging by the sheer pride that was exposed throughout Sasha's face she guessed it was a compliment and a compliment from Katya Zamolodchikova was a definite rarity, "Огромное спасибо." The whisper leaving her lips as Shea stripped off her Team USA jacket, knowing she'd be next right after Brooke Lynn went once Sasha was finished with her short program skate.

Katya she was never rude or disrespectful towards competitors per se: she just didn't speak her mind on others and their programs, she focused on herself and even if it sounded selfish in Shea's head it truthfully wasn't, she was just concerned for doing the best she possibly could and winning medals, that's how the hierarchy in Russian skating worked from what Sasha had told her when they ran off alone to the abandoned rink two days before this night of the Short Programs.

"Kill them." She whispered to Sasha in English before the younger Russian immediately skated into the ice and waved happily to the fans and those watching inside the stadium, Shea impressed with the flow of applause and steady stream of flags piling up.

She could hear the excitement breathing on her neck as the music began and she started once the first chords were strummed, her coach was weary of her doing a song with words but had been swayed once hearing Sasha's concept and the fact that it was in Serbian was a huge plus to the Russian crowd as opposed to an English song.

Her feet turned in her skates, twizzling across the ice as she rotated onto her left foot, turning in to her right and out stretching her arms as she twirled into a camel spin, feeling an immense boulder fall off her shoulders getting into the swing of her program perfectly.

Coming out of the spin she skated into an Ina Bauer, her fingertips opening and tightly clenched into a fist before she kicked her leg out and started to feel at peace, the song itself spoke to her beyond belief and she knew a decent amount of Serbian already to know and understand the meaning but many didn't: she had to show she was an artist beyond just her skill in technique. Turning on her skates she waited until the moment before slamming her toe pick in the ice from the back inside edge of her foot, landing on the outside edge of her opposite foot.

Quad Flip, accomplished.

Sasha was a bit more different than her Russian sister's, of course she enjoyed the roar of the crowd and them screaming when her jumps happened but it almost took her out of the moment, Katya always said it fed her energy but it seemed to have the opposite effect on Sasha though she couldn't help but peak at the older Russian who was watching with a permanent grin across her face, finally meeting her match in her own skating sister.

This was the only short program and the world record was held by Katya, an impressive 90.23 score that Sasha hoped to break by the end of the song. Slamming her toe pick in the ground she jumped from her outside edge and rotated three times before landing on the back of her opposite before quickly adding a triple toe for added points before landing again, taking a deep breath for herself noticing she had yet to slip up, she couldn't tell you if the gruesome training and dieting was worth a medal but it was worth the praise and applause despite the obvious drawbacks.

Slowing down the tempo of music she glided across the ice, hands bursting from her chest, it was difficult to not think of her mother while skating to a song she picked specifically due to its story and essence of love.

She spun once skating away from where the judges sat, preparing herself for her quad salchow which she had been working on for days in the training facility back in St. Petersburg, she had nailed the rest of her combinations and quads so far: triples were easy game, it was considered now detrimental to your score if you didn't at least have at least two quads, she jumped in the air spinning before landing and dancing across the ice, hands straightening at her sides before taking off from the back inside edge of her foot and pacing the beat before landing on the back outside edge of the opposite foot to thunderous applause and screaming, Sasha having to give a wide smirk in the moment, it was so difficult to keep focus when you landed the one thing people had been struggling with, that even though she had been struggling and working towards for so long. She prayed she hadn't cheated the move out and take off at the perfect time.

Managing to add in her triple axel and one more quad with the lutz she skated around the edges of the rink, feeling the stares of those watching and the thousands who were behind the screen, those beyond France who were rooting or watching her for the first time in real time.

"Jos jednom, da ga, Pogledam…"

Finishing off her skate with a layback spin she felt herself completely diminished after the last note had been sung, kicking herself out of the spin and landing on one knee before she stopped, as did the music.

Holy shit.

She collapsed on the floor, heavily breathing as she pumped her fists in the air to signal she was indeed not in need of medical assistance, the crowd around her circling in her head as they screamed, the Russian's chanting with pride and hearing a distinctly familiar scream that could only belong to Katya, she propped herself up as the volunteers came on the ice to clean up all the gifts and flowers being thrown to her, she picked up one that had a penguin and smiled, hugging it and waving to the packed stadium who only cheered louder.

Making it onto the ground again, she collapsed into Katya's arms, her coach walking over and wanting her to come quickly to the Kiss & Cry though the older blonde refused, wanting a minute as her fingers ran through her hair and she stood firmly, grounded in silence. Sasha slipped on her skate guards as not a word was exchanged between the two though the gesture said a million other things, she caught a quick glance of Brooke who hadn't cracked under the pressure yet, the Canadian in firm focus as Shea smiled at the Russian who gasped and quickly ran into her arms as well, fingertips on her cheeks, "Shea you're gonna do so, so amazing!"

Interrupting every message of praise Shea had planned in her head, she whispered her words before kissing her cheek before she ran quickly off to the seats, knowing her scores still had to be announced. Shea brushed her hand across the area where her cheek had been kissed, flushing heavily, praying that wouldn't be the subject of media playback but it was certainly worth the questions.

"Sorry, sorry!" She apologized to her coach ruthlessly as she sat, penguin in hand as she parted her hair back, not being able to even describe the sheer want she had to wash her hair at this very moment in time. Her coach gave a decent review of the skate, saying her axel was a bit awkward and they would work on it but she had at least, in her coach's eye, landed all her jumps with no problems concerning the status and rotation.

"The scores please."

Biting her tongue, the Russian slipped on her team jacket and waited hopelessly, not sure what to expect at the moment in time: the applause made her think positively about the entire skate but that didn't mean in technical score it would be perfect, Sasha hoped for a score to at least significantly tie her to the lead for the time being, her biggest competition was Shea, that was a fact: Brooke was always low on presentation score and Aquaria, she wasn't sure what to expect from the newly inducted senior.

"Sasha Velour has earned in the short program…"

The pause in the announcement made Sasha's entire heart stop, gripping her plush with nothing but chapped lips and frizzy hair, pushing back every insecurity that grew in her body about her score before she felt her entire face bleach a pale white upon hearing the score.

"101.72 points."

Her coach had made an audible gasp, Sasha quickly exhaling and trying not to completely break down in tears, the screaming from fans in the stadium not helping. The announcer spoke through the eruption of cheers and talking, "This is a new world record."

"Sasha Velour a obtenu au programme court un total combiné de 101,72 points, elle a établi un nouveau record du monde!"

Sasha stood up and covered her blue eyes with her bare hands, unable to keep in all her emotion much longer before sniffling as tears fled her eyes, ending up across her arm and skin, groaning as she cried and held herself with as much poise as she could, she had beaten Katya's three year record and the older skater could only laugh and cheer, knowing it was soon to come and was glad it was done by Sasha, who now sat at the top and would most likely sit at the top for the rest of the competition.

Congratulations exchanged from Jinkx who still unable to face defeat from her scores hugged her fellow Russian skater and friend, Sasha sat and gave a wave to the camera, laughing at how pathetically red her eyes must be before she stared on to the ice again, watching as Brooke Lynn was to take the ice next.

Shea physically stood wanting to fall of the edge of the earth, there was no way she'd even touch Sasha.

She could, realistically their programs were similar in components but Shea wasn't as delusional as some of her friends. She knew her limits and what she was good at, artistry was not something she could ever excel to a level even comparable to Sasha Velour, who deservedly sat in that first place chair next to Yuhua and Jinkx. Her stomach churned knowing that Brooke, known for her crazy height in elements and perfect executions was next and she still had her teammates: Aquaria and Adore, Sharon putting all her bets on the younger girl she was now raising. Bob grabbed Shea to the hallway next to the rink, suggesting she warm up and actually focus.

"I want to see how this turns out."

The Canadian stretched her legs out before hearing the announcer began to speak, immediately handing Manila her skates, "Take a deep breath, you got this." Her Coaches advice was solid, she often didn't think for herself as she stepped on the ice but that wouldn't win you the gold, especially after seeing Sasha Velour absolutely destroy Katya Zamolodchikova's old world record.

"I'll do what I can."

Realistically, she could kiss at least the short program medal goodbye, she'd get lucky to even manage the top three and a chance for the Grand Prix. She was the best Canadian skater currently for women's solo, she had been an ice dancer when she was younger but learned quickly how much she hated sharing the limelight and how badly she needed to be alone in her thoughts when skating, not having time to worry about a partner period.

Her name was called and she immediately slid into the ice and skated to the center of the rink, appreciation for the Canadian who of course knew French and would be doing a French song for both her short and long program: out of every country she could've been assigned to besides Canada, this is where she should feel at home yet, something about it seemed oddly tipped off.

"C'mon Brooke!" Screamed Detox from her seat in the arena, Alaska rolling her eyes and giving out a muffled laugh, "She still has the blue tips you gave her." Brooke's hair was naturally blonde but as a tribute to her idol since childhood, she asked Detox to dye her hair: the royal blue clearly visible from a mile away though it was slowly but surely fading away, knowing the Canadian she would most likely wash it out soon after competition if she qualified to further events.

Hearing Detox, her face lit up and she gently waved and blew a kiss to the woman who had become somewhat of a mentor and always had been a skating idol to her ever since she started training in Vancouver permanently, the applause and steady stream of Canadian flag's growing made the blonde at least curl her lips into somewhat of a smile, she stood silent, waiting for the piano notes to cue her to stay.

I have to beat Sasha, I don't care if I break my knee after this, I'm winning in France this year.

The piano introduction to La Bohème begun and the Canadian lifted her skates off the ice, intentionally staring at the reflection below her before lifting her head and beginning her projection map. The short program was always far more important to Brooke than the free skate.

Brooke's Edea skates began to skate around the corner of the ice, starting with her triple toe, triple loop combination: waiting for her takeoff she approached forward on the inside edge of her blade, quickly switching to a backward-facing position as the skater's right back outside edge and left toepick jammed into the ice and she took off. Rotating three times before turning one rotation in the air, landing on the back outside edge of the same foot after another successful three rotations, hearing applause but letting it fade out in her thoughts.

That combination was second nature, of course she nailed it, everyone did toe jumps.

Taking off from the back outside edge of her skating foot, she felt herself jump before she somehow landed on the back outside edge of the same foot to excruciatingly loud applause, she guessed in the back of her mind she had landed that quad loop. Brooke always had the upper hand when it came to training and jumping, she did Ballet all her life and still continued to, many skaters didn't find it necessary anymore with so many elements but Brooke believed in artistry and the traditional way which gave her gateway for very fluid programs.

Her Blonde hair perfectly styled, she gave an arabesque as she passed the judge's scoring panel. She couldn't let herself dig so deep into it, she had to her satisfaction landed all her elements so far and now she jumped freely, slowing her program down as the singing and music came perfectly engulfed in one, preparing herself for another quad, this time the lutz that she had just begun to work on without a harness: she landed it in warm up just an hour ago.

As she dug the toepick into the ice she felt herself slam against the floor once she rotated, Brooke ignored the audible gasps and groans, continuing on immediately once her knee had hit the floor— not wanting to even think about it, she knew that cost her the gold today immediately with no doubts, now she was back to square one.

She kept herself in the program as best she could though the disconnect was painfully obvious even to her, no matter how technically gifted she could be: presentation and interpretation was still a big part of the score, it was half of it in fact.

Taking the last of her elements she twizzled across the ice rink, turning an astounding ten times on her outside edge, grabbing her skate and bending her free arm above her head as she finished the pattern in the center of the ice, kicking out a leg before finishing off the final notes of the chaos with an I-spin, fully extending her leg up, Brooke had the flexibility and abilities skaters dreamed they had expect Katya, who had been a trained gymnast but thank god, she was going to compete in the Rostelecom Cup.

The two minutes and thirty seconds allotted seemed to fly by but Brooke didn't think about it until she found herself in her final pose, waiting for the music to end and applause to cut in before she moved, smiling softly and giving a small bow as the red costume she was wearing sparkled in the gleaming lights. "Thank you." She mouthed aloud before waving and taking the roses tossed onto the ice, wanting to break down profusely.

Manila met her once she stepped off the ice, immediately holding Brooke's face to her shoulder tightly, her arms around her back patting her. She knew she didn't want to speak of the fall and little errors she couldn't even see or notice, it wasn't her best but still a damn good effort. The Canadian sniffled once and got herself together as she sat with Manila on the Kiss & Cry couch, camera's placed so lovingly in Brooke's face, just what any skater wanted after crying and sweating. Her coach whispered into her shoulder as she finished putting on her Team Canada jacket, disappointed to be representing her home country with that skate.

"The scores please."

Music cued with a silence, Brooke knew already what to expect with the fall and the dismay of emotions shown in presentation quality, she certainly hadn't beaten Sasha.

"Brooke Lynn Hytes has earned in the short program a total combined score of 90.51, this is a new season's best."

"Brooke Lynn Hytes a obtenu dans le programme court un score total combiné de 90,51."

The utter opposite of joy, there was applause and it was definitely a high score, she was sitting in the silver position and second once again to Sasha Velour who seemed utterly unstoppable. It was almost unfair to Brooke how one person could be so talented, beautiful and intelligent: Russian media treated her like their darling dear and while the Canadian would normally call it a stretch or say it was yellow journalism, it was all entirely factual: she was always kind and honest as can be, nothing but passion for the sport and for her country.

"I'm proud of you honey." Manila's voice spoke up as she brushed Brooke's dusted crystal on her costume, "And you definitely look the most beautiful here, no doubt."

Brooke had to at least giggle, she did and that was thanks to Manila's gorgeous sewing skills. It was definitely a wonderful perk as your costume always helped the illusion of the skating, helped to show your artistry and of course, it was obviously wonderful for photographers.

"I tried my best." The words leaving her lips as she sat next to Sasha, staring at the Russian who quickly got up from her seat and cheered in happiness, paying respects to Shea who was next and one of the strongest skaters here certainly.

Shea didn't expect to feel a certain sense of urgency course through her veins as she threw her skate guards to the bench, taking off her Team USA jacket and handing it to Bob who only could pat her back and say a prayer to the skater whom she had all her hopes riding on, she only trained Shea in the senior level, she mostly worked with Junior and Novice skaters.

"C'mon Shea!" Screamed a clearly disgruntled Trinity who made her ears perk up, looking around as she adjusted the details of her short program costume, admiring the crystals and sheer amount of pink, it was perfect. She had managed to find the Floridian with Alaska and Detox, unsurprisingly though it was sweet they all decided to come and support the team. Trinity gave a large thumbs up as Detox had her arm slung around her waist, speaking to Alaska in low whispers on the right.

They managed to mouth a few final words to each other as her fellow friend and skater made note of her dress.

"You look gorgeous and you skate great, you'll win."

"Not while Sasha is here!"

Her face flushed gently turning as she saw Sasha standing and clapping, as if she was bowing to her match: this was the moment though there was of course the long program tomorrow, hopes were still riding on tonight to get the gold.

Trinity rolled her eyes. Gnawing at her jaw in nothing but stress, she tightly squeezed Detox's hand in comfort: "God, I can't do this, I'm just praying somehow she'll manage a medal." Alaska nodded, more here for Aquaria and Sharon but definitely happy to support Adore and Shea whenever she could, they were all still usually sweet and friendly despite being major competition to each other.

"C'mon Shea!" Alaska yelled, holding out her name in a loud scream before Trinity clapped and cackled, falling on her lap and chanting for her best friend, not one usually stand and jump around she felt it necessary as her best friend took to the ice, this was a huge chance to finally win and though her head said it wouldn't be possible to meet Sasha for the gold, her heart ignored that and let herself dream of Shea winning gold.

"You think she can do it? Beat Sasha?" Detox pondered aloud as Trinity grinned widely, interlocking their fingers, "I know she can, the thing is I don't know if she believes in herself enough." Alaska butted in, "If anyone is as cocky and confident as me it is Shea fucking Couleé, I think she just can't hold back which I doubt she'd ever do in the first place."

Shea skated into the ice around the corner of the rink, waving to the onslaught of American flags before stopping in the center, a prayer whispered under her breath before she looked up, confident as ever.

This is your moment and no one can stop you.

—

"Огромное спасибо." = Thank you very much

"Я очень горжусь тобой!" = [I'm] very proud