#they keep asking us for pass for print sign offs BUT WHERE IS THE OTHER TEAM'S ACCOUNTABILITY?????
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boysbeloving · 1 year ago
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Thanks, Mile.... I'll try
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carefreecoffee · 3 months ago
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❉ ╧╧╧╧ Birthday Revelations: Shigaraki x reader ╧╧╧╧ ❉
Word count: 1.9k, Gender-neutral
The LOV warehouse was quiet except for the sound of Shigaraki clicking away at something on one of the laptops on the bar. Sitting there in the dim light, he glanced up to see you entering through the large rickety door. "Where the hell have you been?" He asked in a gruff tone, raising an eyebrow at the bag in your hands.
“Out” You respond, walking to sit next to him at the bar.
Shigaraki watched you closely as you approached, eyeing the bag before turning his attention back to the computer. "And what's in the bag?" He asked, his curiosity piqued.
You set the bag on the table, moving it towards him. “It's for you”
Shigaraki looked at you with surprise before looking down at the bag. He was clearly taken aback by the gesture. "For me…?" He repeated, his voice betraying a hint of disbelief.
You nod with a small grin, “It's your birthday right?”
Shigaraki stiffened, caught off guard by your question. "How the hell do you know that?" He asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
You placed your hands in your lap, feeling a bit interrogated. “Kurogiri told me in a passing conversation”
Shigaraki let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair. He was silent for a moment before looking at the bag again. "That damn void…Hmph. So you got me a gift?" He said, a tinge of skepticism in his voice. You hummed, pushing it closer to him.
Shigaraki's eyes flicked from the bag to you, studying your face. He was clearly unsure how to react to the gesture. "You didn't have to get me anything, you know." He muttered, trying to sound indifferent.
“I know I know… but I wanted to do something nice for you so, happy birthday!” You gave him your best smile, not wanting to make him uncomfortable per the gesture.
Shigaraki rolled his eyes, the faintest tint to his pale paper-like skin. " Fine, whatever, I'll take it then." He said, reaching out for the bag. As he pulled it towards him, he glanced at you again. "You better not be playing some kind of prank on me…"
Shigaraki carefully opened the bag, his eyes widening a bit as he pulled out a boxed video game. "This is…?" He said, turning the box over in his hands to look at the cover.
“Yep! it's that new game you've been rambling about. It came out the other day, right?”
Shigaraki's eyes lit up, his face completely expressing his surprise. He looked from the game to you, then back to the game again. "You… got this for me?" He said slowly, as if he couldn't believe it.
You shrug, “Well yeah, it was either that or a new black hoodie. But i think you've got enough of those haha”
Shigaraki let out a small chuckle-like noise, a rare sound coming from him. "I do own a lot of hoodies…" He said, setting the game down on the table in front of him.
You clear your throat from the silence that surrounds you, pointing to the bag. “Yeah and um, there's a card in there for you”
Shigaraki raised an eyebrow, reaching back into the bag to pull out the card. He looked at it for a moment before looking at you again, clearly puzzled. "A card?"
“Yeah, like a birthday card, you know?” Shigaraki snorted, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "I know what a birthday card is, smartass. I'm just not used to getting one." Shigaraki opened the card, his eyes scanning over the words printed inside. As he read, a mixture of surprise and embarrassment crept onto his face.
'Happy birthday Shigaraki! Hope you have a wonderful day and enjoy it to the fullest.
Enjoy the game, and please keep it down when you're playing. Signed, Y/N'
Shigaraki stared at the card for a moment, his mind racing. Nobody has ever done something like this for him before. All he had ever gotten for his birthday were cold glances, harsh words, or just nothing at all.
"You…" He said, struggling to find the right words. "You actually… wrote this?"
“Well yeah, wrote it, bought it, everything” You looked at him curiously, trying to gauge his reaction.
Shigaraki's eyes flicked from the card to you and back again. He was visibly struggling to process the situation, his mind still clouded with disbelief. He let out a long sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. "Why…?" He mumbled, more to himself than to you.
“Why?”
He looked back up at you, his eyes locking with yours. "Why did you do this? Why would you go through all this trouble for… me?" This took you back slightly. Did you need a reason? “I did it because i wanted to”
Shigaraki was speechless. He had never experienced such a simple yet genuine act of kindness before. It was foreign and strange to him, yet it made his chest tighten with a mixture of confusion and gratitude. For a moment, he just stared at you, his mind racing with thoughts.
"I… I don't know what to say," he admitted quietly.
“Oh i um, i'm sorry if it's too much or something” Your face heated up a bit from embarrassment, not sure on how to take his pretty serious reaction.
Shigaraki shook his head, his tone firm and sincere. "No, it's not that…" He said, his voice quiet. "It's just… nobody's ever given me a gift or a card. I've never been… celebrated before."
You let out an 'o' shape with my mouth. Your heart practically squeezes at the confession. “There's always room for change, right? Speaking of change, how do you afford these games!?”
Shigaraki dryly chuckled, the atmosphere lightening just a bit. He was thankful for the change in topic, as it gave him a moment to recompose himself. "How do I afford them?" He repeated his question with a smirk. "You seriously think I pay for them?"
“Oooohh, yeah I totally forgot about that.” He quirks a brow. “You actually paid for these?” You avert his gaze. That game certainly was pricey.. “Uh, at least you have something to look forward to later..?”
Shigaraki leaned back in the chair. The tension and awkwardness from earlier had mostly faded, replaced by a more relaxed expression. "Yeah. I guess I do." He glanced down at the card and the game on the table, the small gesture of kindness still bewildering him.
“So,” You scooch forward a bit in your seat. “How old are you now Shigi?”
Shigaraki raised an eyebrow at your question,"You don't even know my age? You're giving me a damn birthday gift and you don't know how old I am?"
You roll your eyes, leaning on the cold surface of the bar. “Well I mean it's not like I drilled Kurogiri about your age or something.”
Shigaraki shook his head slightly. "Fair enough." He leaned back in the chair, eyeing you for a moment before answering your question. "I'm 20."
You smiled softly, enjoying the ease of the conversation knowing him. “Then happy 20th birthday Shigi”
A small blush rose to Shigaraki's cheeks, his eyes widening slightly at your greeting. He wasn't used to such genuine well-wishes. He averted his gaze, trying to regain his composure. Clearing his throat, he spoke softly. "Thanks… Y/N."
You nod curtly before hopping off the stool, “Enjoy the game, kay?”
Shigaraki watched as you hopped off the stool, a hint of disappointment in his eyes. A part of him wanted you to stay a bit longer. He reached for the game on the table, holding it carefully between his fingertips.
"I… I will." He muttered. Your footsteps echoed but until you could make it out, Shigaraki suddenly spoke up again. "Hey… Y/N?"
“Yeah?”
He paused for a moment, his voice quiet and unsure. "Why… Why did you do this? All of it… the card, the gift." He held up the game box as he spoke, still trying to wrap his head around the unexpected act of kindness.
You watch as his hunched form moves the objects rather solemnly. You furrow your brows.” I care about you Shigi. Everyone deserves to be celebrated, especially on their birthday.” And you meant it. Nobody deserves to be left out of something so important as that.
Shigaraki's jaw went slack as he listened. The simple sincerity in your voice made his heart flutter in a way he wasn't used to. Nobody has ever told him they 'cared about him' before. He was quiet for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. "I…" He said eventually, his voice barely above a whisper.
You walked forward, albeit rather hesitantly. Shigaraki's eyes flicked to your movements, noticing your sudden fidgeting. His expression softened slightly as he watched you, his mind still trying to process the situation. He put the game back down on the table, his eyes never leaving you. "Hey, come back here for a second…" He said, patting the stool next to him.
Getting an offer to be in his presence was rare. The ‘get away from me’ attitude is fizzling with each mere second. Shigaraki watched as you took a seat on the stool next to him. The closeness of your presence sent a shiver down his spine, his heart hammering in his chest.
He fidgeted with the game box for a moment, unsure of how to express the mixture of emotions swirling around in his head. After a few seconds, he finally spoke up. "You… do you really care about me? Like… actually?"
You nod, “Not to be too sappy and all but I've known you for a while and I know what you go through everyday whether you notice it or not. A birthday gift is just a small token of that gesture.” Shigaraki's lips tugged into a small, earnest smile. The realization that someone actually cared about him, even a little, felt alien to him. Nobody has ever treated him with such kindness before.
He was afraid, fearful that it would end horribly as all things did for him. He glanced at the card and the game on the table, his heart still fluttering in his chest. He looked back up at you, his eyes meeting yours. "You… you're the only person who's ever treated me like this. Like I actually matter."
You feel your chest tighten at his words. You had known somewhat of what he had gone through in his life but never thought it would affect him this much. “You do, you do matter to me, Shigi. So please just accept the gift.”
Shigaraki's breath hitched slightly as he heard the sincere tone in your voice. Those simple words, like 'you matter to me' and 'please accept the gift', meant so much to him. He couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions rushing through him. No one has ever been so genuine with him, so kind, so caring.
He took a deep breath before speaking again, his voice more stable than before. "Fine… I'll accept it. But only because it's from you."
You nod, feeling accomplished. “Good! Do you wanna go play it? You can show me how it works”
Shigaraki's eyes lit up at your suggestion. The idea of spending more time with you, sharing something he loved, made his heart skip a beat. "Yeah, uh… sure." He said, a hint of excitement in his voice. He hopped off the stool, grabbed the game, and gestured for you to follow him.
The rest of the night was just that. Hearing him explain the game, how it works. He was in his element for sure. To make him feel cared for and seen, was all you could ask for.
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stalkedbytrains · 1 year ago
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A Child of Ravens
A Raven that Makes No Noise
The journey to the lands of the King Above the Mountain was going to be a long one, and it went by the ruined town where she first met the raven child.
The ground was still black with the curse laid down upon the town, mingling with the char and burn of the last townsperson’s attempt to use fire to counteract magical rot.
She walked along the now empty road. With the town dead there was no trade this way. Those going from the horse lords to the King Above the Mountain didn’t use these roads. So Melvana walked alone.
She slept in the empty fields beside the road and foraged what little food she could.
Occasionally she’d spy a black bird overheard, and sometimes a raven would descend to check on the beggar girl. Whenever a raven visited her she’d offer some berries she’d manage to collect.
She was always nice to ravens.
The birds became less frequent as she got closer to civilization. Melvana didn’t blame the birds, most people would throw sticks or rocks at them.
As she got closer to the mountain she was able to catch or sneak rides with farmers or other passers by.
Once there were more people it was easier to beg. She was able to get better or more consistent food.
However it seemed that the King Above the Mountain had made begging illegal and imposed harsh punishments on anyone unlucky enough to be caught. Or so a kindly old man who had given the dirty orphan child a ride through the foothills told her.
It was in the great mountain cities that Melvana had to learn to steal. And she found herself very adept at it. But even more so at climbing buildings and entering places she wasn’t supposed to be.
Few people locked their third or even fourth floor windows as securely as they did with the ground floor.
More than a few times Melvana had to climb buildings to outrun or lose pursuing guards who were ordered to cut off the hands of all beggars.
She survived the winter atop the mountain by hiding in the empty, narrow room inside the steeple of a cathedral bell tower. And by stealing enough coin or clothing to keep warm.
By all accounts it was a bad winter. Bitter cold with very little snow. Climbing the stone buildings had proved difficult if not outright impossible in the weather that lasted much longer on the mountain than it did on the ground.
Then there were the ravens. Usually they all retreated to the safety of the Ravenswood during the cold months. But this year there were at least a dozen birds lingering around the town. Perhaps they were trapped by the weather and couldn’t fly all the way back. Or perhaps they were waiting for something.
Either way Melvana offered them all sanctuary in her little room atop the bell tower. It was cramped but warm. She begged and stole what she could and bought what she couldn’t. Food and water for herself and the ravens. Extra blankets and clothes to line the walls of her room to keep the cold out.
She had even lucked into finding a book about sign language, a complicated language that used her hands and arms to convey meaning since her voice couldn’t.
Spring came and so did another year. The ravens departed, whatever they were waiting in did not come to pass. Melvana said her goodbyes with her hands and asked the ravens (who had read over her shoulder) to bring the book to Avro so they could talk with their hands too.
For a moment she was afraid the book would be too big for the birds to carry, but one raven landed on top of the book, spread its wings over it, and then it was gone.
Soon after the birds took flight, leaving behind another set of feathers for the girl.
Now she had seven feathers.
The summer proved to be much better. She was able to secure a job with a printing press and worked there several days a week. The pay was very bad, even by begging standards, but Melvana was given a single hot meal everyday and the use of a bath to remove the various ink stains from her skin.
But more than the guaranteed meal and regular baths, she was able to borrow lots of different kinds of books. She was never a fast reader, but now she was devouring every book she could get her hands on. The press she worked at was not so large that there was a large variety but there was enough different things for her to learn some interesting history and live vicariously through words on a page. Often the books she stole were misprints, or things with awkward typeface or crumbling bindings, but she loved them all the same.
And so it became her new habit that when she’d break into homes to steal clothing or coin, she’d always take some time to look through their bookshelves to see if they had any interesting looking books or volumes that she was missing in her favorite series about the princesses that rescued themselves or each other.
Throughout the summer and fall, Melvana entertained ravens in her little hideaway. She made sure they were always welcome and made sure to have food and water for whenever she had guests.
They were always a little distant, mostly because she couldn’t understand the language of birds despite her best efforts. But she asked about Avro and the individual birds she had gotten very good at recognizing. Once a bird would leave it would almost always gift her another feather.
By the time winter rolled in across the mountain top, Melvana had more feathers than she knew what to do with. And there seemed to be a consensus among the ravens that she be allowed to learn their magics.
It was a long process, since magic itself was difficult and learning through gesture was even more challenging. However, by the end of the winter she had become good enough at manipulating shadows along the wall (making them solid was something that was a bit too hard for her to do consistently), and if there was an emergency, Melvana had learned how to use up two or three feathers to cushion a fall from a great height.
The only trouble was that the more magic she did, shadow puppets on the wall notwithstanding, the darker her fingers got. Like the tips of them had been stained with ink. Not that she minded, her hands were always stained with ink, and the magic she could do was worth this small cost.
When it came to spring and once again the ravens went back to the Ravenswood she found herself in possession of a large number of ravens’ feathers. She now had 15. And whatever the ravens had been waiting for still hadn’t come to pass. She did make sure to give the ravens the gift she’d stolen for Avro: a wooden bird mask. It was pure white and very detailed, and was easily the most expensive thing she’d dared to steal. But she thought her raven child friend would appreciate it.
Another year started and for the first time she realized how much taller she was getting. By her count she was almost twelve, almost a teenager, almost an adult, almost a woman.
One day, near midsummer, she overheard her boss talking with another man. Her boss was short and thin and had a terrible mustache that didn’t suit his square face. The other gentleman was tall and well built. They were whispering about something important and secret, since the taller man didn’t want to speak around other people, meaning Melvana.
She didn’t mind, the only things adults talked about were who was fighting who, what important figure died among a conspiracy of ravens, is the King Under the Mountain actually threatening the King Above the Mountain, was there really such a thing as the Regency Killer, boring things.
“Sel, don’t worry about the girl. She’s dumb. Probably doesn’t even know what you’re saying. She agreed to work for bread and a bath, she actually makes me money to have her come in,” her boss said.
She really hated it when people called her dumb. By no means was she stupid and she could talk but it hurt to do so and she didn’t like her voice. So she wasn’t mute. This is why she didn’t feel bad stealing from her boss. And Melvana made a note to find something valuable tonight before she left to steal.
The taller man didn’t say anything, he scrutinized Melvana for a moment before saying, “I need six more books.”
“Which edition?”
“Second.”
“Standard layout?”
“No, with the errata.”
“It’ll cost you.”
“And I need it before tomorrow.”
“It’ll cost you extra.”
“Double the usual fee now, double upon completion.”
Her boss grinned widely, “I’ll have it done.”
For the rest of the unnecessarily long day, Melvana was tasked with taking one of the presses apart, resetting the entire thing to print a textbook “The Domains of the Mountain Kings” in an edition that had been out of print for several years. If she remembered correctly, she’d just printed a whole slew of fifth editions for this particular text a few months ago.
Her hands were sore and covered in ink before she was done, well after sunset. But the pages were printed and being given to one of the poorer binders. Claud was a nice enough kid, but he had a habit of breaking spines and misapplying glue so that covers peeled and broke. Melvana was never sure why he was still employed since he was so bad at his job, but she had finished her task. 10 textbooks had been printed, which felt like an absurdly small amount to reset an entire press for.
She collected her food and took a quick bath in the small secondary bathroom off the owner’s house next door. She wanted to be clean as to not leave any evidence when she came back after closing to swipe some books.
After several hours of waiting on a nearby rooftop, the press finally closed and her terrible boss locked up and walked back to his house. She waited until the lights inside the house went out and then she waited a little more.
Part of her thought she should have gone back to the bell tower to get more raven feathers, she only had three of them on her, but it wasn’t anything dangerous and she’d done this dozens of times before.
But tonight she was tempted to sneak into the boss’ house and take from him personally. He would have the good books, and nothing they printed lately had been any good.
Once she was sure that her boss was asleep, Melvana descended from the rooftop and crossed the street. Tonight, she decided, she would steal from her boss.
Her boss was well off, not as rich as some in this city but more than most in this district, so his house was four stories, but rather thin. She’d have to climb up to the third or fourth story.
The climb, as it always was these days, was easy for her. She made it up to the third floor, but through the glass she saw this was her boss’ sleeping quarters. One more floor up then.
Here the window wasn’t even locked, in fact it was still open. The late summer breeze was cool, and she didn’t blame her boss for this even as she laughed to herself about how easy this was.
Inside the house was dark, quiet, cool. Melvana’s favorite kind of house. She stayed absolutely still as she listened to the house, to the way it settled and breathed. She learned how to move in a sleeping house, to move on the exhales, be patient and take her time.
The fourth floor was not much of anything, storage space for out of season and excess things. One day she’d love to have excess anything. The only thing Melvana had in abundance was ravens’ feathers.
She moved to the stairs going down and waited and listened. Here she moved more carefully. This floor was where people slept, and it would be where she would be most vulnerable to the sudden awakening of any people. Luckily there was a door blocking the sleeping room and the stairs. She quietly descended to the second floor. This was a study of some sort. There was a fancy desk, book shelves all over the walls. She’d come back to this floor.
The first floor was the immediate prize, the kitchen. Here she helped herself liberally to her boss’ food. She ate fancy bread and cheese, the rich kind of cheese that smelled funny by spread excellently on the fresh bread. And she had an even rarer treat: some dried meats. Meat was something she could so rarely afford, so she filled her pockets with as much as she could for later.
Once she ate her fill, which was quite a lot, she moved back to the study and the walls of books. Unfortunately her boss’ books were things she realized were called Literature, with the capital and all the pretension that came with it. He didn’t have any of the fantasy stories she loved so much. Most of the books were largely about middle aged men and their affairs, or sad people being sad. She had enough sadness and stress in her life without her reading adding to it. Although in a small alcove, nestled away was a small collection of books labeled “erotic” which Melvana knew meant sex so she ignored those too.
Overall she was extremely disappointed in the books here. She did take the three volumes of The Quicksilver Knight. Mostly because the cover was fancy with silver leaf and fine black leather. If it wasn’t an interesting book she could probably sell it.
Maybe he had better books where he slept.
It wasn’t a thought she liked to have. To rob a man in the room where he slept was risky. Doubly so since her boss didn’t have any liquor or those drugs in the small bottles that make one sleep through death itself. People who drink or take those drugs sleep soundly and completely.
But still, one set of books that she didn’t even know if she’d like. And no coin.
Her want for better books won out, and she crept back upstairs. Melvana was nothing if not careful. She waited outside the bedroom door for ten minutes, just listening. She deposited her loot, the meat and the books, outside the door. If she dropped it or the bag knocked something off a shelf or even if her boss smelled the meat she would be caught. Best to leave it here and abandon it if necessary.
She waited until she heard the man asleep inside exhale and opened the door. A pause, wait for the next exhale and moved swiftly inside. The door was well made, expensive, so it didn’t squeak. Squeaky doors made it hard to steal things. If Melvana ever got a house all of her doors would squeak.
It was dark in the man’s sleeping room, the air dark and close.
She stood silently, waiting for her eyes to start picking out details. There were no books here, and for that she was severely disappointed.
There was barely anything of interest.
She looked around the room, not moving away from the door. Then she spied it: a lock-box. A dark wood box about the size of her head. There was a big shiny lock on it. There was something good in there, she knew it. But the lock would be a problem. It rested on a small desk next to the bed, by a stack of the books that she had printed earlier that day.
Curious she crept over to the books and grabbed one. Sure enough despite being brand new they looked like they were already worn and used because of Claud.
Melvana took one book and the lockbox. At the very least the book would annoy her boss if not provide any interesting reading. If she could get the box open, hopefully she’d have plenty of coin to spend on new clothes and shoes. She was starting to grow out of all of them. And if this stupid bleeding thing kept up she wouldn’t have anything not covered in blood.
Moving only on the exhale, Melvana crept back to the door and out. She grabbed her bag of goods, stashed the book, and silently made her way back upstairs.
Once she got near the open window she decided to try the box, but it was locked securely. On a lark she reached into her hair and pulled out one of the raven feathers she hid there. She pressed it into the lock and it popped open as if she had put in the key.
Delighted, even at the cost of one of her feathers, she opened the box only to find an elegant copy of the book she just stole. This one was nicely leather bound, the binding was done correctly, it was a perfect book. But why lock this one up?
Now Melvana just felt annoyed. She thrust the book into her too light loot bag and climbed back out the window.
For anyone else carrying a bag full of five books and a pound of dried meat while scaling down a four story building would be difficult, for Melvana it was no trouble.
She made it to the street with little effort, took her time to make sure no one was around or watching her before she stepped out and made her way to her home.
Someone melted out of the shadows, a tall man dressed head to toe in dark leather. He looked like a shadow. How she didn’t see him, Melvana didn’t know, but this was the type of man that she would turn and run from.
She didn’t run, but she did turn on her heel and started walking away as quickly as possible.
The man looked at her, then at her bag, and as she turned away he reached out for her.
He just barely managed to grab the bag and pull Melvana to a halt.
“Have you been thieving?” He asked in a gruff voice.
Instead of stopping she turned around and ran towards the man that grabbed her bag. She ran right passed him once again going in the opposite direction. The sudden change in tactic caught him off guard and she slipped through his fingers.
Every other time she had been pursued it was by guards or angry victims. This was something else, this man was something else.
She did what she always did and climbed the nearest building. This one was a short three story house. Melvana clamored up, not worried about being quiet only concerned with speed. She was fast, but this man wasn’t slow. She managed to crest the roof with him barely an arms length away.
Not waiting she ran across the roof and jumped to the next building, a tall five story shop and house combination. Her strong fingers bit into the stone as she hit the wall and once again she was climbing. The bag with all her loot hanging away awkwardly at her thighs.
Still the man followed her. He was almost as good at climbing as she was.
He chased her across rooftops and unlike every other adult she’d ever run from, he didn’t tired out after a few blocks, nor was he deferred by the climbing.
He matched her step by step.
Until she came to a roof on the edge of a major road. Somehow she’d gotten turned around, forgot where she was running. The next roof, the next building was easily 40 feet away. She couldn’t make it, and with the man behind her she couldn’t make it to any other roof.
They stood on the roof together, breathing heavy.
“Oh you’re good kid, a real natural. Didn’t even see you in the house,” the man said between deep breaths. “And you can climb like a damn monkey. But I need the book you stole.”
Melvana shook her head. I don’t have a book.
“Yes you do. It’s the most valuable thing in that place, of course you have it. Give it to me and you’ll leave this rooftop alive.”
She reached up into her hair and pulled out the last two raven feathers she had, held on in each hand. This wasn’t something she had ever practice or done. But she’d seen Avro do it a number of times during her time in the Ravenswood.
She turned and ran, right off the edge of the roof. She made it maybe ten feet when she flapped her arms, holding on tight to the feathers. Wings, she needed wings. Or enough air to make it to the next building.
For a second, in the glorious dark of the moon, she swore she had wings. Beautiful, dark raven wings that beat once in time with her arms.
She slammed into the side of the building, the wind knocked from her chest, but her fingers held tight. After she filled her lungs with breath, she climbed up onto the roof. The man was still across the street. He was watching her, and she couldn’t tell what his expression was. So she didn’t waste any time and jumped to the next roof and ran away as fast as she could.
Melvana ran to the far end of the city and then slowly made her way back towards the bell tower she slept in.
This climb was difficult. The adrenaline had left her blood and her limbs were tired. But she made it.
There was only one raven tonight, who cawed in a tone that she recognized as concerned.
With her hands she greeted the bird.
Hello William.
Another caw, more concern.
Out stealing. A man caught me, chased me.
Caw, alarm.
He couldn’t follow me, I used feathers.
Silence this time.
He wasn’t a guard or a city man. He was something different. Another thief maybe. It might not be safe here. You should leave soon. Tell the others coming back here might be dangerous.
Another caw, concern again.
I need to sleep first. Then I’ll go in the morning.
The raven ruffled its feathers and jumped to her shoulder where it poked her gently on the side of the head. Which she knew to mean, “use your head more.”
I will.
The bird took off into the night air and Melvana collapsed into sleep.
The dawn bell woke her roughly, pulled from a deep sleep that had left her disoriented and dry mouthed when she was ripped from sleep. She couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of rest. But still it was dawn and she was getting a late start. By the time she packed up everything to leave the only home she ever knew it might be obvious that a girl was climbing out of the bell tower.
The most important thing to get was her collection of raven feathers. She gathered the few that were left, 9 not counting the two she got from Avro. Then she grabbed her favorite books, which were unfortunately heavy. Then she put on all of the clothing she owned. These were too important, too expensive to ever leave.
It was going to be uncomfortably warm in all these layers but she had no other choice: she had to leave town.
“Fuck you’re hard to find,” said a voice from the other side of the small room.
Melvana didn’t even look, she grabbed her bag of books and jumped. The raven feathers in her hand crumbled to ash as she cushioned her seventy foot fall to the ground. The second her feet gently touched the stone paths outside the cathedral she was running as fast as she could.
But something stopped her. The world went dark, she couldn’t see anything and she smelled something sickly sweet. Like overripe fruit bordering on rot.
Then she knew nothing.
my kofi with all my stories
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nny11writes · 8 months ago
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My Beloved Cat - Ginger
This is about my cat who is dying, just a warning for those who can't see that right now.
How do you choose an urn for a pet that hasn’t passed yet?
She won’t care, she’s a cat, there’s no color or shape or material or sentiment for her to say, “I like the idea of resting here.”
She will be ash and finely ground bones. I don’t believe in an afterlife and I’m sure that will be the end of her, of us.
But will her ash and bone, changeable to many shapes, filling the spaces the way she once did cracks in my heart, will they find the space comfortable and comforting? Will they feel closed in and claustrophobic? I know they won’t actually feel. I know. They will be inert in their plastic wrap inside her urn.
But will she find peace and solace?
I won’t.
But like all parents, I want better for my children.
I think I’ll choose ceramic. Earthen and warm between my hands. No risk of damage when I cry. I can cradle her close that way. The blue one with the paw prints will do. (It costs extra. I don’t know how to feel about that.)
It asks for an engraving, 25 characters in 3 lines to sum up the whole of my love. If someone finds it in the future, will they know how important she was to me? What the fuck am I supposed to write?
My Beloved Cat
Ginger
Three steps down, four to go.
What keepsakes would I like? There’s two included in the price, and three of them are free. The ash pendants cost extra.
I know I want the ink paw print. I’ve gotten the sand one before, but it looked unnatural . I had hoped to rest my finger in the dip of her toes and feel closer to her. Instead I felt disappointment. No. No sand. Ink looks softer and I can trace where her fur will smudge and pretend to pet her that way.
I’ve done the fur clipping key chain before too. It looked fake and disconnected and I think I lost it in my hatred of the plastic keeping me from touching her again. But I don’t wear jewelry, so maybe I should get it anyways. But my dad gave me $300 to cover the base service and freebies. The money I saved for this can go to silly extras.
I’ll get the tree of life pendant. The thin metal can warm on my chest or in my pocket or stay cool on the mantel. I can take her with me when I need her support again.
(Did you know I didn’t kill myself so I could keep loving her longer?)
(Will this pendant help me the next time it happens?)
(She meowed at me this morning as she demanded pats in my lap. Cancer doesn’t care that she’s dying at 10 years old. Why can’t you live with me forever baby girl? It’s not fair to miss you while you’re still here, withering or not.)
I added the stupid key chain too.
It said that would be 15 dollars more now. I took it off and the ink print is no longer free.
There is $41.56 in taxes for the services and mementos. I’ve doubled the base cost already and I can't afford much more beyond this.
Step 6:
I hereby certify that I am the owner or authorized agent for the owner of the animal described and I hereby authorize the above specified method of disposition. In authorizing the cremation of animals, I hereby agree to indemnify and hold The Company and their agents, managers, and employees harmless for any claims, lawsuits, or other actions, including damages, costs, expenses, an attorney’s fees, brought against them by a third party claiming that the cremation of an animal was unauthorized.
Please sign below using your touch screen or mouse.
(My name looks like a child wrote it. I feel like one. I just want my kitty.)
Step 7: Legal Disclaimers Dispute Resolution by Binding Arbitration Abandonment Waiver of Jury Trial (this one is in all capital letters, like they’re yelling at me) Severability Attorney’s Fees Initial Here
(I don't believe in god, but god, please, help me.)
They didn’t list an 8th step, but the 8th step is payment.
I double check my bank account and confirm I’ll get paid this Friday so the extra costs aren’t hitting when they shouldn’t.
$586.56 to lose my baby.
They will call me later and I can download steps 6 and 7 for my records.
How do you choose an urn for a pet that hasn’t passed yet?
By crying silently at work, watching the clock tick down to my next meeting, and imagining a future where I can hold her urn ashes close to me in the morning. I can sip my coffee and still watch the birds with her that way.
I hope she likes it. She’ll never see it, her final resting place.
But I hope she likes it.
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jabbage · 9 months ago
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realm-sweet-realm · 2 years ago
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Accretion, chapter 3
Accretion is a story that follows the rise and fall of Galactic Boss Cyrus and the fate of Team Galactic and the lives of those affected by it after its reformation under Saturn. It will be about 8 chapters in length. I hope you all enjoy this.
Saturn walked through the dorm halls, clutching his abra, Betty, like a ragdoll as the Pokémon levitated his luggage behind him. Maybe choosing to stay in men’s dorms hadn’t been a good idea. Not that he was exactly comfortable living with a stranger of any gender given how shy he was, but since he hadn’t transitioned at all or even used a non-feminine his name on any of the paperwork, this was starting to feel like a mistake. He got to the room with his number- 108- took a deep breath, and slowly opened the door.
Saturn’s roommate, a young man with sharp eyes and frosty blue hair, was already there, bags unpacked and nose in a book. If the stranger had noticed that someone had come in, he didn’t show it.
Saturn signed for Betty put his bags down in front of his bed. They dropped loudly, prompting Saturn to cringe as the stranger peered up at him.
“Hey. My name is Venus,” Saturn managed.
The other man put down his book and looked him over, dull-eyed and surely thinking that ‘Venus’ was a strange name for someone in the men’s dorms.  “I don’t want to call you that,” the man said.
“…What?”
“That name makes you uncomfortable. Give me one that won’t make you uncomfortable.” The man waited a moment as Saturn attempted to gather himself and respond. “Or, I could call you nothing at all. It seems that neither of us are enthused about sharing space. Perhaps we’d prefer to ignore eachother entirely.” The man’s tone wasn’t annoyed- he sounded like he was just stating dry facts.
“No, it’s not that, I just- well, I don’t quite have a name picked out. I mean, I’m not out to my parents, so…”
“You don’t need to tell them the truth. Tell them you don’t want to be named ‘Venus’ because Venus is a lousy planet. The less you care about others, the more ability you will have to live as you see fit.”
“Um. Okay.” Saturn turned away, opened up his suitcase, and set to unpacking. Once the initial agitation wore off, Saturn wondered where on earth this man got so much nerve and where he could find some of it. He might as well try to find out. It wasn’t like they were off to a great start as roommates, so what did he have to lose?
“Some of my friends call me Saturn,” Saturn explained, “It started as a placeholder, but I’m getting used to it. What’s your name?”
“Cyrus.”
“Cool. I’m going to take a look at the bar across the street from campus. Do you want to join me?”
“Sure,” Cyrus answered, with some hesitation.
Saturn would give Canalave one thing- their university knew how to throw a welcome week. Unfortunately, since it was nearly five, most of the booths for campus clubs and other features were currently being packed up for the day. It might have been interesting to check them out together since he didn’t have anyone else to go with.
“So, what are you here for?” Saturn asked as they passed through the various stands.
“My scholarships are in engineering, so that will be the majority of my classes,” Cyrus explained, not sounding especially excited. “You?”
“Well, uh. I don’t know. I mean, my goal up until a month ago was basically just to distract myself until I die. But my family scrapped together the cash to send me here, so I’m vaguely obligated to do something. Pretty sure they’re mostly just hoping this’ll keep me out of prison, though.”
“Prison?”
Saturn held up the floral-printed purse he’d snatched from a booth while its owner’s back was turned. He took 3000 poké from it, then snapped his fingers. On cue, Betty teleported it back.
“I... see,” Cyrus said, looking at Saturn with more alertness than before.
“Yeah. Betty here has been my partner in crime for, well, a long time,” Saturn explained, rubbing the Pokémon between the ears as it floated beside him. “So, you don’t seem that interested in engineering. What do want to do with your life?”
Cyrus looked forward as they walked, his face serious. “It’s not that I’m uninterested in engineering. It’s that millions upon millions of people are born, suffer, and die and the world remains incomplete no matter how many of them attempt to change it for the better. Something has to radically change and it won’t be through technology alone. My goal is to figure out how to change it.”
“Oh. Wow. You sound like a real visionary.”
“I suppose so. But you’re the one who’s actually taken risks. You must have some interesting stories about your criminal exploits.”
Saturn laughed. “That makes it sound like I robbed a bank. But yeah, I have stories.”
It was a short walk to the bar. Unsurprisingly, given the number of students that had arrived that day, the bar was packed despite it barely being evening. The music blared and several dozen people attempted to yell over it and each other. Why humans willingly put themselves in locations like this, let alone managed to do something as nuanced as socialize in them, was beyond Cyrus. But he could manage this. He needed to learn more about people to decide how to change the world, and Saturn was a good start, given his willingness to spend time with him.
They were seated. Saturn asked questions Cyrus could barely make out. Cyrus gave short answers. It was better not to attempt anything more complicated than that while most of his cognitive resources were focused on filtering out the noise.
“Want to have them move us to the patio so it’s quieter?” Saturn asked after a few minutes of conversation, his tone leaving no question that he’d noticed Cyrus’ discomfort.
“If you’d prefer it,” Cyrus replied, taking care to sound indifferent, as though that would save face.
Wonderful. Now Saturn would think he was strange and inadequate and want nothing to do with him. He’d lost the respect of a compliant human being because a bar was loud.
And yet, Saturn hadn’t rushed to leave that night. In fact, after they got going, they’d talked for hours. And strangely enough, the next day Saturn invited him out to look at the booths for various clubs. And Cyrus agreed to it.
Saturn dragged him to the first meetings of various clubs so he’d have a sturdy wall of confidence to cling to if things got awkward. They played video games together. They stayed up late exchanging jokes and stories on nights they couldn’t sleep. They discussed each other’s classes to the point where Saturn majored in engineering because he’d found Cyrus’ rambles on the subject so interesting. And Saturn was good at it. Saturn transitioned. He gained confidence. He gained other friends. And yet for some reason he chose to spend time with Cyrus. Every time Cyrus was sure he’d acted a bit too strange, been a bit too much or too weak, or that Saturn would leave him for better options, Saturn didn’t lose interest in him. It was baffling but pleasant.
---
“Thanks for agreeing to look over this, especially on such short notice,” Saturn said, logging into the library computer. It was a bit past 1 am and finals were still a few weeks away, so they were the only ones there.
“It’s fine,” Cyrus answered. “This is about what I’d be doing at this hour anyhow.” It was true. While Saturn being up at this hour was rare and usually meant he was upset, Cyrus frequently spent the early morning hours researching whatever his current interest was.
“Right.” Saturn opened up his presentation on the Celestica people. “Alright. Here it is. I made sure to follow the syllabus, but it’s on a pretty complicated subject, so I thought I’d make sure. It’s on the evidence for and against whether the Celestica people actually met with Arceus and received blessings from him.”
“That is a complicated subject,” Cyrus said, looking over the first few slides. “They did seem like God’s chosen for a while- long-lived and able to thrive in a land others struggled in. People use the fact that they were wiped out as counter-evidence, but personally, I think that Arceus left them because it didn’t want to be near the Diamond and Pearl clans. People tend to forget that, while He may have created the universe, He is ultimately just a Pokémon with His own desires.”
Cyrus continued looking through the slides. It was flawless, not that he expected any less of Saturn. At some point in the past few years, Saturn had stopped stealing and started taking his schoolwork seriously, and the effort showed.
“It looks as though you’ve gone above and beyond on this. There is nothing to worry about.”
“Okay. Sorry, I just... kind of wanted this presentation to impress someone.”
That got more of Cyrus’ attention than he would have liked. “There’s no need to worry about that. It’s a first-year class. Most people in it won’t know a fantastic presentation from a mediocre one. Who is it?”
“Oh, believe me, he’d be able to tell. And it’s just... someone. A crush from some of my classes. He’s way smarter than me, and I guess I wanted to show him that I could get really knowledgeable about something too, or teach him something, or... y’know, it sounds stupid now that I say it out loud. Let’s go back to our room.”
And so they did. Neither of them wanted to go to bed yet, so they ended up sitting on Saturn’s bed and talking, Betty curled up against Cyrus’ chest.
“Want to hear a story?” Cyrus asked.
“Sure,” Saturn said, stroking Betty as she purred.
“When I was seventeen, my family tried to pair me off with a girl from another prestigious family,” Cyrus started. There was no need to give context. Saturn knew that Cyrus’ mom had chased after the acceptance of his wealthy relatives and eventually gotten it. He hadn’t spoken of the abuse of course, just the context needed for stories. “I was a few months away from escaping to the other side of Sinnoh and cutting all ties with them, so she wasn’t in my plans. They had her over for dinner so we could meet. I did the bare minimum expected of me. But then they left us alone in the living room. She had ideas of what we should do together, so to increase her chances of a shotgun wedding. If the fact they’d left us wine was any indication, my family had similar ideas.”
Saturn smirked. He had a good idea of where this was going. “So... how did you protect your virginity?”
“I ‘accidentally’ drenched her dress in red wine and told her she’d best go home and put it in the wash before the stains set in. But that isn’t the end of it. She made a show of removing all her clothing, handed it to me, and told me that she’d be ready for me when I came back. When I came back from putting her dress in the wash, I brought her a towel to cover up with. I still remember the look on her face. There were several, actually. One right after the other.” In imitation of her, Cyrus contorted his face into shock and then anger and then defeat.
"Oh my God. What did she say after that? Must have been a real interesting evening for you.”
“Very little. And it wasn’t. I had my pokétch to keep me entertained, but it grew repetitive after the first hour and I couldn’t focus while she was making repeated attempts at conversation.”
“That poor girl. Well, I guess it’s what she gets for not taking no for an answer.”
Cyrus smiled. “Yes, well, I don’t blame her. Humans are in a constant struggle to fill these voids inside of us. It’s natural that we hurt each other- or attempt to, in this case- in the process. You know, Arceus could change that with a figurative snap of His fingers. I wonder why He doesn’t.”
“Free will, probably?
“If we lived in a world where everyone was constantly intoxicated, would it be a violation of free will to make us sober? Or would it increase our free will, allow us to make clear-headed decisions?”
“That’s a good point. Actually, I think I get what you’re saying.” Saturn opened his arms and let Betty float into his gentle embrace. “I used to be able to talk to Betty telepathically. Just Betty, no one else yet. Everyone thought I was going to be a psychic gym leader. But the more pressure people put on me, the more static there was, until I couldn’t hear her anymore. My psychic abilities were gone and they never came back. I had a mediocre Pokémon journey, I started having feelings about my body, I started stealing because why not at that point, and yeah… I just kept getting further from the person I’m supposed to be. It would be nice if someone could just take away all the static, you know?” Saturn was shaking a little. Betty clung to his chest to keep him calm.
“You understand,” Cyrus stated. He’d tried to explain his philosophy to others- people he considered intelligent, or simply whoever would listen. They’d called his ideas things like “ridiculous,” or “depressing” and one had even suggested he get his head checked. None had ever truly considered them before. Cyrus got up and started pacing. “Excellent. I have a lot to explain to you. You see, the human spirit is-”
Saturn’s sad eyes met Cyrus’, and it suddenly occurred to Cyrus that this was not the time.  He sat back down next to him. “Ahem. I think that clearing up the… ‘static’ would change less about you than you think. Further, if we could complete the spirits of others, they would be able to see that as well.” Cyrus paused, looking at Saturn’s face to gauge if he’d said enough. “I like the person you’ve become.”
“Thanks,” Saturn replied. “Want to play some video games?”
Cyrus moved to speak, but Saturn cut him off “Don’t lecture me on staying up. You’re staying up. I know you don’t sleep until you crash.”
“That is correct,” Cyrus admitted.
Saturn started up a fighting game and they began playing together. As per usual, Saturn came in quickly with a volley of attacks that Cyrus was nearly helpless to.
“Could I tell you about my philosophy now?” Cyrus asked.
“Yeah. It sounds interesting,” Saturn replied, only half-focused as he performed a combo move worthy of tournaments.
Cyrus sat forward, intensely focused on wording this the best he could. “The human spirit is incomplete. People live in pursuit of love, acceptance, and a general sense of wellbeing. We hurt each other for it, and that makes our victims hungrier for it, and for power and revenge. There are many factors to this, but for now that’s the best way I can summarize it. The only way to break the cycle is to learn to live without love and happiness, and to learn not to be hurt by the cruelty of others.”
“So... basically learn to be satisfied no matter what?”
“Something like that.” If Cyrus told Saturn that he thought complete emotionlessness was ideal, he’d probably react the same way everyone else had. Cyrus grit his teeth at the thought and mashed buttons furiously. Saturn struggled to keep up. “The problem is that no one wants to learn. They prefer their lives of wanting, pain, and tearing each other apart for relief. Increasingly, it seems as though only the Gods could cleanse this world!” Cyrus dealt Saturn a finishing blow. He realized then that he’d lost his cool, said things that were too close to what he’d told others.
Thankfully, Saturn didn’t seem to be reacting too strongly to it as he set up the next round. Perhaps he thought Cyrus had just gotten heated over the game. “Huh. That makes sense. A lot of bad comes from being greedy and hurting people for what we don’t have. You know, that reminds me. There’s a legend that we learned about in class that a member of the Galaxy Team took control of Dialga and Palkia once.” 
The round began. More attacks. Cyrus allowed his character to be pummeled. This myth sounded interesting.
“I don’t believe it,” Saturn continued, “I think if it had happened, we would have known, you know? Something would have changed. If you did that, you could literally change anything.”
“...That legend... do you think there would be information on it in the library?”
“Well, yeah, presumably.”
Cyrus put down the controller and got up. “I have some research to do,” he explained as he left.
The next day, Cyrus found himself wandering into the lecture hall for Saturn’s Sinnoh myths and history class. There were enough people in the lecture hall that he wasn’t noticed. He couldn’t have told you why he’d come. The presentations were amateurish. Cyrus could be learning far more had he gone to the library.
It wasn’t as though he cared that Saturn had a romantic interest. Saturn had proven to be a loyal friend, and even if he wasn’t, Cyrus had lived without friends before and could do it again. Sure, Saturn made his life more pleasant, and sure, Cyrus felt and acted more human around him than he would have liked, but it wasn’t as though he needed him. And if anything, it was good that Saturn had someone to fulfill a role he couldn’t. Cyrus was above lust. Men, women, they could be pleasant to look at, but it was no different to him than paintings or flowers or Pokémon or any other source of beauty. He’d never experienced the kind of disgusting emotions that would lead a man to betray his family or worse. Not that anyone he’d seen presenting seemed particularly suitable for Saturn, either.
Finally, it was Saturn’s turn to present. Saturn spotted Cyrus in the audience. He smiled at him, and Cyrus’ stomach flipped.
Oh, no… this… this won’t do.
Not with what he had planned. Not with what he must do.
Finals came and passed. Cyrus and Saturn spent a lovely winter break together. Cyrus was remarkably close-mouthed about what classes he would take next semester, but otherwise everything seemed normal. And then, three days into the next semester, Saturn came to their room and all of Cyrus’ things were gone. He couldn’t get ahold of Cyrus by phone, either. He didn’t hear from Cyrus again until mid-May, after Saturn’s final semester was completed.
It was the middle of the day when Saturn received the phone call from that familiar number. He picked up the phone.
“Cyrus?”
“Saturn. Are your classes finished?” Cyrus asked, his tone business-like.
“Um… yeah? It’s great to hear from you.”
“Good. Would you like a job at my energy company?”
“Your what? How did you…?”
“That can be answered in time. I’m willing to pay you as though you have ten years of experience. We’re located in Eterna. If you’d like, you could stay with me until you find other arrangements.”
Saturn stayed silent for a while. This was all very strange. It was also a deal that no fresh-from-school professional would refuse, assuming there wasn’t a catch. And he did want to see Cyrus again.
“I’ll take it,” Saturn said. Hopefully he’d feel better about this once he reached Eterna.
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savagecowboy · 1 year ago
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@ulfhrafnx said: not trusting severen to deliver the package without damage , out of jealousy and spite , she leaves a small box filled with books somewhere homer can find it. along with a note attached signed only with a wolf paw print.
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He waited until all the rest had gone out on their separate excursions, leaving him alone in their bungalow hideaway. Before, he might have questioned how she would have known where they were, or more specifically how she had figured out his secret cubby hole behind the radiator; but having now been in the presence of the inhuman woman he had more respect for her abilities to discover these things.
Without seeing the card he knew it was from her, had smelled the distinctive scent of her immediately— they all had— whereas the others had dismissed it as her passing by during the day— perhaps visiting her beau who was even more irked that he hadn’t caught her— Homer had deduced immediately that she had found him out. Casually, he reached behind the cool metal ridges and extricated her gift, a plain, nondescript box.
Inside lay three compact volumes, all old, leather bound hardbacks, one novel, and two non-fiction texts. He grinned, a small, halfhearted joy on his otherwise morose visage, and went to the ratty couch to better appreciate them.
Along with the traces of Lira’s handling of them, he could scent the age and care they had received; knew they were at a time housed amongst companion titles, that their origin was European, like himself. A homesickness he rarely ever felt tickled at the back of his mind, and Homer buried it by opening to the first page; A Treatise of Human Nature.
Immediately he was drawn into the philosophical positing of Hume, so much so it took an interruption by Mae— some significant time later—to encourage him to go out and make his nightly meal. Only with her promise to keep the books away from Severen’s prying did he leave, and to her credit, she did so even when the so named asked to see them while Homer was still away.
“She came out here just to drop off presents to lil’ Boner?”
“Apparently so” Mae responded flatly, “and don’t call him that”. Severen snorted and shook his head, face damp from having used the neighbor’s hose to clean away the mess of his feasting, hair still dripping wet.
“Right”, he said with barely constrained anger; not too casually checking the wall clock, clearly assessing if he could make it across town before sunrise. It was unlikely, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.
“Oh no” Jesse said having caught the tail end of the discussion as he and Diamondback walked in. “You ain’t fryin’ cause you got your knickers in a twist. If she wanted to see you she knows where you sleep, an’ clearly she ain’t interested”. That got him a dangerous glare from Severen who only bit his tongue out of respect for who Jesse was to him. Mae felt uncomfortable watching the silent challenge.
Severen turned away and went into one of the two back rooms, the only sound that of his spurs, and soon after the grating screech of him taking his file to his teeth. Cautiously, Mae set the volumes onto the low table, presuming their safety for now, and looked up to Jesse to see him watching her.
“You did good, don’t mind him, just a cub bear playin’ with his peter”. Mae wasn’t sure she understood the expression— Diamondback also raising a confused brow— but let it go. After giving Jesse’s arm a squeeze, The Pale One sat down to clean and sharpen her butterfly knife; her own prized possession. Homer came in, almost perfectly timed, receiving polite nods and smiles.
“Cutting it a little close on the time aren’t you?” Diamondback asks him sweetly, it is a gentle chide, he only acknowledges it with a glance, more interested to see the books safely situated on the table in front of Mae.
He gives his fledgling a genuine smile, and sits beside her, taking the top book from the pile. Mae notices that the cover revealed below it is Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, and she picks it up herself. She doesn’t expect to get caught up in it, the text was always presented to her as required school reading, not something for fun; but the small hours before the break of day are filled only with the soft turning of timeworn pages, and weapons ground to deadly points.
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loverockawaitsyou · 1 year ago
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Vulnerable post... Dealing with a narcissistic ex unwilling to let go...
I am going through a really ugly breakup. I thought things would be OK but it turns out that the guy I was with was a big-time narcissist. I decided to leave him because our relationship wasn't going anywhere and he is an alcoholic, among other red flags. He was a wreck in the final days before I left. He cried on numerous occasions, especially at the airport.
Before I moved to Seattle, we were getting along just fine, and since I flew, he offered to help me ship off the big belongings I didn't take. Stupidly, I left my music memorabilia in his care, which included thousands of dollars worth of merchandise (mainly Pearl Jam items) including vinyls, books, posters, and expensive art prints purchased directly from photographers.
To put a long story short, my ex felt I "abandoned" him and started to retaliate, especially when I started to inquire about a website he was supposed to make for my writing business- which hadn't been finished after weeks of asking him to do so (and that I was paying for). He then ghosted me for over a week, refusing to answer about the website or my belongings. And during that week, he went to an expensive rave festival with a pass I paid for (as a birthday gift). I also learned he started to sleep with a coworker of mine less than a month after I left.
After realizing how devastated I was, and in an attempt to save face, he finally sent the bulk of my belongings and sent me some food. He also tried to sweet talk me, saying, "I can prove there's still good in me." However, he "forgot" one more item. I am still not sure whether it was on accident or on purpose.
The final item is my signed Painted Shield poster, which is in a protective metal tube. For my first vacation literally in years, I went to Seattle for the first time. While there, I went to Painted Shield's first-ever group of live shows. It was a special occasion, especially since you all know I'm a fan of Stone Gossard and some of his side projects, and I was near the front and got to see the whole band up close. The poster is signed by all of Painted Shield. I paid $100-$150 for it, but it's not just a money thing, obviously. It is a memento from an experience that is dear to me.
Unfortunately, my ex knows everything there is to know about me, especially my love of all things Pearl Jam-related. I affectionately referred to my collection as my "Rock Babies."
During our conversations, I told my ex I don't really want anything to do with him anymore, and that I wanted my things so that "all of this could be over." Constantly, he would say, "Don't talk like that!" And he keeps saying, I'll talk to you tomorrow... later... whenever... It's as if he is using the poster as a means to have an excuse to continue to get my attention- even if it is negative. He sent my other things on 8/22 and "found" the poster on 8/23. He said he would send it out on Monday 8/28. He hasn't sent it yet and is vague on when he will. I left my old place on 7/12.
So... my ex knows that he is intentionally withholding one of my "babies" from me. I am not well-off financially by any means, and saved a bit to go to Seattle and see Painted Shield.
These past few weeks have been difficult, and I'm towards the end of my rope. I'm at the point where I may sadly just let my poster go if it means not having to deal with my ex and his mind games anymore. Perhaps I can get one of my ex-coworkers to confiscate it, but I'm... tired. I'm just tired. I want to move on.
He is using it as leverage, control. He knows the significance of it.
I'm in Seattle now, so maybe I'll get a chance to get something else eventually that can replace it.
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raelhbishop · 2 years ago
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The False Vimalakirti
Chapter I
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CITY CENTER MUSICOM, 05:52 local time
Musicom is quiet in the wee hours of the morning, and its City Center isn't any different. Containing most of the city's amenities - a stadium, a convention center, customs, the town hall, a bowling alley, just to name a few - it's about the only place folks visit in this backwater town.  
As the sun rises, a man eagerly struts into the City Center, scanning a press pass and taking in the sites. He's an amateur journalist, satchel in one hand and outdated camera in the other. 
He prowls the wide, grey corridors with a mischievous smile on his face - and a strange ring on his finger.
Taking a seat on a bench, he looks around, eying the few people that walk past. He spots an athlete walking slowly into a bathroom.
The journalist opens his satchel and thumbs through prints. He finds one with the athletes' profile on it, and smiles. 
He follows the athlete inside. He waits for the athlete to wash up, then approaches him. 
“Are you K-Sage?”
The athlete nods. “Indeed, I am.”
“Well, it’s an honor running into you here! Say, I’m with the press for a local news crew-"
“Sorry, can’t take any interviews right now.” He motions his hand to the journalist. “Contract policy. Got a busy day ahead of me.”
“Oh, alright then...” As K-Sage heads to the door, the journalist asks, “...but do you think you sign a photo for me? My sister’s a big fan, and she would just love an autograph.”
K-Sage thinks on it for a second. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” He smiles. “But keep it a secret, OK? I’m not allowed to give these out for free.”
Pen in hand, K-Sage signs the photo. While doing so, the journalist presses a concealed button on his ring. Spikes appear, breaking the skin and sending a pulse of electricity through his hand.
The journalist pulls out his camera and hits it. As the camera flashes, the journalist kicks K-Sage in the groin, knocking the athlete to the ground. Reflexively, he throws a blow with unnatural strength, hitting the camera and shattering it to pieces. The journalist manages to duck in time, before jabbing the spiked ring onto the side of K-Sage's forehead. 
A surge of electricity passes through both of them. K-Sage and the journalist are frozen for a few seconds. Time itself seems to freeze for them.
Then, the journalist passes out in the bathroom. He lies on the floor, completely unconscious. 
K-Sage rips the ring off his hand and pockets it. He takes the journalist and props him up in a stall, satchel in hand. The deed being done, K-Sage walks out of the stall, striding with the journalist’s mischievous smile on his face. 
He begins plotting where to go next: take K’s ebike, drive into Port, get a hotel room on the way... use a hotel attendant and travel further into the city... wreak havoc at the casino, escape through a janitor... wreak havoc at the beach, escape through an unsuspecting touris-
“K! Where have you been?" 
Lost in though, he bumps into his coach - a short, but intimidating man who emanates "no nonsense." 
"The warm-up starts in an hour, we need you at your station!” 
K-Sage is taken off-guard and stutters, before remembering who he’s in. “Oh, right, sorry. I just, uh, went for a walk this morning, to clear my head, y’know?” 
The coach shakes his head. “You’re going to be doing plenty of that today! You’ve got the all-linker triathalon to attend, for crying out loud!”
K-Sage puts his hand behind his neck. “Y’know, coach, I’m just not feeling all that great right now. Do you think we could, uh, call it off?”
“Call it off?” The coach is baffled. “What’s the matter with you, K? You were fine passing through customs an hour ago!” 
The photo slips out of K-Sage’s attire and hits the floor. The coach picks it up, inspects it, and gives K-Sage a steely look.
“It’s... uh... for a girl I’m dating. A gift.”
“Since when did you stop being gay?”
“Since, uh, since five minutes ago. I’m bi now. Yeah! Bi! I mean, why just try one flavor of ice cream, y’know?”
The coach's face contorts into that of pure bewilderment. 
He looks at the time and groans.
He puts a hand on the athlete's shoulder and walks him to the locker room. “Look, I don’t know what’s gotten into you this morning, but we’ve got a lot riding on this game. I’ll give you some time alone after the game, but you’ve gotta go out there and do it. This is your only chance out of Podunk, kid.”
With a firm push, K-Sage enters the locker room. “Now go out there and kick some dust!” 
K-Sage gulps. 
========
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BUBBLING BROOK, 14:47 local time
In the midday sun, a delirious prospector stumbles towards a small town. She is dying of dehydration, clothes drenched in sweat, and mumbling incoherently.
A few yards away, a girl paces frustratedly on the outskirts of town. Her mind is a maelstrom of anger, disappointment, wasted time, and broken promises, further fueled by the unbearable desert sun. 
Watching from the distance, a man of metal stands underneath a water tower. The shadows conceal his otherwise blinding shine.
The prospector and the girl cross paths. The prospector calls out to the girl but can barely speak. The girl, caught in her thoughts, ignores her. She yells out again, but gets no response. Desperate, she walks right up and tries to stop her. The girl loses it, and cold-cocks the prospector in her tracks.
She's taken aback by the force of her own throw. The figure in-front of her is unassuming; heavyset, blue shirt, grey pants. She has no idea who this person is.
She has no idea who this person is. She looks at her fist, then at the prospector, then back at her fist. It feels cathartic. It feels good. Without thinking, she leans over and prepares to take another shot, when her arm is seized in the air. 
A hand grasps her arm, made of cold metal. She turns to look at the body it came from – an equally metallic figure, slender and humanoid, with a visor for eyes emitting a soft red light. It’s the figure of a robot ranger, one of hundreds of machines created to “keep the peace” in this lawless land. To her, it’s nothing more than a soulless bureaucrat, a force to make life harder than it needs to be.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” the ranger says matter-of-factly, “my name is Ranger Atticus, and I would like to know why-“
“Ex-CUSE me, did you just call me a ‘ma’am’?” The girl is seething.
“Affirmative, my apologies. I didn’t mean to cause offense-“
“Who gave you the right to call me a ‘ma’am’? Do I look like a ‘ma’am’ to you?” She retracts her hand from the ranger’s clutches.
“It’s merely common courtesy where I’m from.“
“How old do you think I am? Huh? Do you know who I am?”
“No, I am afraid not.“
“Listen you bag of bolts, you have NO idea what kind of day I’ve been through-“
“Ma’am, if you would please-”
“HERE YOU GO WITH THIS ‘MA’AM’ STUFF AGAIN!” She screams and flails her hands in the air.
“I need you to calm down, miss.”
“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT KIND OF-”
“Miss, I need you to calm down."
“-DAY I’VE BEEN GOING THROUGH? OF COURSE NOT, YOU-“
“Miss, if you won’t co-operate, I’m afraid I’ll have to-“
“WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND, YOU PENICL-PUSHING, HIERARCHY ENFORCING TITANIUM LOAD OF BULL-“
He smashes her hands together and puts them into a handcuff.
“…detain you.”
She refuses this condition, screaming obscenities. “You can’t do this to me! I’ve done nothing wrong!”
“You punched a civilian in broad daylight, unprovoked.”
She hesitates. “You can’t prove that!”
His visor changes to display a recording of his sights. The prospector can be seen sluggishly approaching her, running up, and getting clobbered. Even the moment a devilish grin crosses the girl’s face can be seen, as Atticus gets closer. The girl couldn’t believe she was that same woman in the recording… but then again…
“Well, I mean, she was probably just some drunk wandering around. Look at her! Clumsy, a real klutz! Drenched in sweat! Nobody just walks up to someone unprovoked, unless you’re a con-artist or a drunk or robber or some other slime!”
During her defense attempt, the ranger walks over to the downed woman and checks her vitals. He pulls out a flaskfull of water from an anterior compartment and pours it onto their face, then down her throat. He recognizes the face from before, but scans for ID just to be sure. 
“Why are you even saving that bozo, anyways? If anything, you should be applauding me! Hah! Yeah." With some effort, the girl crosses her handcuffed arms, smiling smugly. "Scum like them shouldn’t be attacking our townspeople.”
As she talks, the ranger notices her hands move rather fluidly. Too fluidly, in fact, for most humans. 
He brushes his hands (a preprogrammed anti-static measure) and heads back to the girl. “Even if that were the case, that’s assault, and we don’t tolerate that here in Zone AR-1. But that wasn’t 'some drunk'.” 
He displays the prospector’s ID card on his visor, and the girl turns pallid. 
“That was Mackenzie Schuster, a head prospector in this area. If I know her, she’s likely on a water-hunting excursion.” 
She knows the implications of such an assault. Even on high-tech worlds, that’s a crime with a hefty bail she can’t afford. She tries defending herself, lying her way out, only to end up where she was beforehand: defeated. 
“What’s your name, miss?”
“Mitra”, she says deflated, “Mitra Aldegreen.”
He scans for ID, and finds it matches the name. Though he conceals it, reading her profile gives him a surprise. He motions for Mitra to follow him over to Mackenzie, and takes them indoors. Mackenzie slowly comes to her senses, and Atticus explains the happenings. 
“Prospector, may I ask how you ended up that close to death to begin with?”
Mackenzie tries to regain her thoughts. “Well... I was out in the wastes with my bike and some light divining equipment. Then in the distance I see someone, hooded, on a flashy bike, driving toward me going probably... a hundred, hundred-and-fifty kilos an hour." 
She stops to regain composure. "They pulled over and shot my own bike out, then robbed me blind. They shot my PDA too. The first thing they headed for was my canteen, which they chugged vigorously and pocketed. So there I was, stranded, unable to call for help and unable to guide myself. I remembered seeing the town on the map a bit west from here, so I decided to head over and try and get help.”
Atticus listens intently. Mitra stares blankly, though bits and pieces of Mackenzie’s story trickle into her head.
“Tell me, Mac”, Atticus asks, “could you tell if they were a linker?”
Mackenzie thinks on it for a minute. “I can’t say for certain... Come to think of it, they did try stabbing me with a ring at first.”
Atticus’ visor lights up, signaling interest.
“You don’t think it’s them, do you?”
He rubs his hands together. “It just might be. You two stay here, where it’s nice and cool.” He hands Mackenzie a spare PDA. “You said this was due west of here?”
She nods. Atticus gives a two-fingered salute and heads off into the wastes. He finds Mackenzie’s muddled footsteps. Fusing his mechanical legs into a cycle, he rides off into the distance, gliding across its contours and calculating its twists and turns.
========
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mango-forest · 10 months ago
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The first time Bruce saw the ghost, he was so terrified that he ran straight to Alfred, who was in the kitchen; he was so terrified, in fact, that even years later he never noticed how odd it was that he didn’t pass a single servant on the way—he didn’t even remember that detail. His parents were away at work, and so he tried to tug Alfred out by his clothes, running purely on fear, saying, “Alfred! There’s someone in the—the attic! They were—I saw them! We have to go!”
The attic was maybe the one place the servants never went to on a daily or weekly basis, and instead only went every few months. Alfred stopped him, knelt down with his hands finding their way onto Bruce’s shoulders, and asked in the most serious voice Bruce had ever heard from him, “Master Bruce, are you saying there is a stranger in the manor’s attic?”
“Yes! I’m not lying, I swear!”
Alfred nodded to himself. “Alright. Master Bruce,” he said, beckoning a maid over, “go with Alice; she will take you to your parents.”
“Wait, what about you?” Bruce cried as Alfred told the situation to the young lady. She immediately started trying to gently hurry him along towards the entrance hall as Alfred grabbed one of the other servants and started talking in an undertone. Bruce couldn’t understand why the older man was ignoring him. Couldn’t he see that everyone had to leave? It wasn’t safe!
The servant Alfred was talking to nodded and started swiftly making his way to another servant, taking out from under his suit jacket what looked like a—
“Is that a gun?” Bruce gasped as Alice finally just picked him up, moving urgently down the halls. He struggled in her arms, but as they exited the house and started towards one of the cars, Bruce was starting to lose energy. He was mainly just tired and confused now.
“Are we going to see my mom and dad now?” he asked Alice as she started the car.
“Yes, Master Bruce,” she politely replied, backing out of the driveway.
Bruce fidgeted with the seat buckle. “Alice, why did that servant have a gun?”
Alice hummed, keeping her eyes on the road and its surroundings. “Well, Master Bruce, certain staff in your family’s manor are… equipped with certain things to ensure both you and your parents’ safety. Some of us have legal permits to carry guns, and so—with your mother and father’s permission—we have them while we work for your family.”
Bruce stayed quiet, unsure how to feel about being unaware of this for his whole life.
The silence lasted until they had gotten to the Wayne Enterprise building, with his dad already being at the steps with his mom. The car barely stopped before they were hurriedly stepping into the car, next to Bruce.
“Are you okay, Bruce?” his mom asked first, checking him over. The car started moving again.
“Yeah, I’m alright Mom,” Bruce said. “But we need to go back and get Alfred!”
“We're not going back to the manor. We’re going to the police station,” his dad said. “Alfred will meet us there.”
Soon enough, they were in one of the offices in the police station. Bruce sat in one of the only chairs while his parents stood, joined by a cop with pepper hair and a shiny badge on.
“Now, we couldn’t find anyone up there, or when we did a sweep of the house. However,” the cop held up a hand when he saw Bruce open his mouth to protest, “there were signs of things being moved recently due to dust prints, along with a makeshift bed in one of the corners.”
“What do we do?” his father asked.
“Well, here’s the tricky part: while things were moved pretty recently, there were no food wrappers, or crumbs, or matches. Not even a flashlight or a lantern, all being common things seen where squatters are. There’s a chance that they manage to clean up before Mr. Pennyworth got there with his gun, but it’s highly unlikely. Our best guess is that the squatter left recently, maybe like last week, to find a new place. You said there was gonna be a party soon? Probably scared ‘em off with all the extra traffic.”
Bruce frowned. But he did see someone! Of course, he didn’t stay for long, and the only reason he was up there was because he thought there might’ve been more detective books in storage and maybe he was already a bit scared of how dark it was but—
“But I did see someone, Dad,” he told them later in the car; Alice had gone somewhere and he hadn’t seen her since. No one told him where she went, either. “I promise. They were taller than me, and had glowing eyes, and sharp teeth, and claws—“
His dad’s grip on the steering wheel jerked and his mom let out a grunt as their car dangerously swerved on the road before his dad pulled over. “Glowing eyes and claws?” he asked, twisted in his seat in order to stare at Bruce, who was starting to feel very small all of the sudden.
“I—yeah,” he muttered, a bit frightened at the intensity in his father’s expression.
His father’s jaw clenched before he seemed to realize he was almost glaring at his eight-year-old son. He turned back around and started the car again. “Bruce, don’t—don’t talk about this again, okay? Just trust us, we’ll handle it from here.”
“Mom?” Bruce asked, uncertainly. His mom was uncharacteristically quiet, staring at the car’s dash with a furrowed brow and a tense mouth. “Is the gala still happening?”
His mom sighed. “I don’t know, baby. I just don’t know.”
The rest of the car ride home was spent in silence.
Eight-year-old Bruce: Who is the boy in the attic?
Thomas: We don't talk about him
Ten-year-old Bruce: Who is the boy in the attic
Alfred: I've never seen anyone up there, Master Bruce. But if I did, I would recommend acting as though you never saw him
Twenty-four-year-old Bruce: Don't go to the attic
Nine-year-old Dick: Why not?
Bruce: The Waynes just don't go up there or acknowledge what may or may not be there. You just never let those things know you can see them
Danny, haunting Wayne Manor for over a decade: SQUATTER RIGHTS
Dick: What was-
Bruce: Shhhhh, go to sleep. You heard nothing. You saw nothing. You say nothing.
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globalworship · 2 months ago
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'Homeless Christ' art, poem, meditation
My friend and favorite woodcut artist, Kreg Yingst, created this moving portrait titled "Homeless Christ."
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Block print 5" x 5"
Follow Kreg’s art at https://www.facebook.com/psalmblockprints and https://www.facebook.com/kreg.yingstart
and buy his art at https://www.etsy.com/shop/psalmprayers
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About this piece, Kreg wrote:
Homeless Christ
“Whatever you’ve done to the least of these, you’ve done to me.” ~ Jesus Christ
“Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.” ~ St. Paul
“Homeless Christ” is such a nuisance. He always disturbs the inner safe space of my vehicle, flashing his sign that asks for money at street corners. “Get a job” used to echo in the mind, a phrase that’s become the capitalist mantra of millions. After all, we work for a living.
Homeless Christ has fallen on hard times. He has been laid off from work, is injured, struggles with mental health, has drug addictions, or has a criminal record and so can’t get a job. We honestly don’t know—although we presume to know. She doesn’t have access to a shower or clean clothes unless a ride is provided to the other side of town where the only homeless shelter exists. Will you hire this unkempt person? Even if they could get a job, can they keep it?
Here’s an idea: let’s make a law so they can’t beg, can’t live anywhere, and can’t exist—we’ll call it the “anti-homeless law.”
“Give to the one who begs from you, and do not refuse the one who would borrow from you,” Jesus says. “Yes, Lord, but I need to be discerning,” I shoot back: “They’ll only use it on drugs. They’ll only waste it!” That’s the cop-out line of choice. “Listen Jesus, one day you’ll be proud of me when you see how many times I didn’t give them anything. Right?” I counter.
“And how about you?” Jesus questions, confronting the myriad of choices of how I often spend my money unwisely. Sure Jesus, but it’s “my money” because I earned it. “And how did you get to this position to earn it,” Jesus asks. “Why were you born with certain abilities and skills and connections to achieve what you’ve achieved? And why have doors opened for you if not for the grace of God?”
Oh Homeless Christ, continually impinging on my lack of virtue. Perhaps I can learn to be as generous and merciful as God has been toward me. But it will take the mind of Homeless Christ to get me there!
Published online at https://www.facebook.com/psalmblockprints/photos/homeless-christwhatever-youve-done-to-the-least-of-these-youve-done-to-me-jesus-/934282918703134/?_rdr
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Poem inspirerd by “Psalm 138” by Jim Cotter
Homeless and restless, I sleep on the streets, huddled in the doorway of the jeweller’s store. Why are they afraid of me who can do them no harm? Why do they all pass hurriedly by?
A woman stops, eyes steady and clear: her hand clasps mine, enclosing a coin. She speaks a few words, spends a few seconds, risking the laughter of those who pass by.
A man draws close with hesitant step, embarrassed and awkward when faced with the strange. Yet he stays long enough to give me some broth, a waste in the thoughts of those who pass by.
The crypt of a church lies dusty, unused, till a few catch a vision of a haven of care. There are some who give food with a listening ear, a hope unknown to those who pass by.
A few with pure hearts among those who are wealthy keep stirring the conscience of people with power, pressing for the changes that justice requires, sword in the path of those who pass by.
Do they give me a glimpse of an unusual God? Is there glory in the costly giving of self? Am I the one God especially loves? Is God far from those who pass by?
The skilled and the powerful think they are favoured, they call on their God to buttress their pride. They miss the gentleness of a touch that is loving, fearful hands push away and of course they pass by.
-- from the book Towards the City: A version of Psalms 101-150 – by Jim Cotter
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xwonderfuldeath · 9 months ago
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.o| It's a small world : XI |o.
Warnings : Violence, injury, graphic depictions, sex
Please, consider supporting me on Ko-Fi ! ♥
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« -Miss Ivanovich. Can we talk? 
- Mr. Director? »  
Her features drawn, her hair a little messy and dark circles under her eyes, she looked at the man in front of her, curious enough to know why the hospital director had come to see her in person during a break. A slight smile passes her polite lips as she stares at him, trying to understand him. To be perfectly honest, Elyzabeth hated the hospital director, a man of a certain age, at least fifty, with gray hair and eyes that were far too darting for her. 
« - I'd like us to talk in my office. 
- Okay. »  
With some restraint, Elyzabeth follows him to the far too large office, a place full of glass, with a view of the entire staff moving like ants in an anthill. With delicacy, the nurse moved to the first seat to make herself comfortable, before waiting rather patiently for whatever the man had to say. 
« - Miss Ivanovich, I understand you have a child? 
- Well, yes. A five-year-old girl. 
- I can understand that your rather complicated schedule... can put you in a difficult position from a parenting point of view. 
- I'm not complaining. I have a nanny and her father looks after her. I'm not sure I understand what you're getting at. Do you want to fire me? 
- What? Of course not. Come on, where are you going with this? »   
His shark-like smile makes her shudder, as he bends down to pick up what appears to be a leaflet, a brochure for a new private clinic about to open somewhere in the upper reaches of Seoul. Taking it somewhat timidly, Elyzabeth read the fine print indicating a charming establishment, open on fixed hours and welcoming all. A little bewildered, Elyzabeth passes from the brochure to the manager, not knowing what to say or do. 
« - Mr. Director, may I understand? 
- An opportunity. Three times more than your salary of now, daycare for your daughter, no hours exceeding those indicated and help with better housing. 
- I... I'm not sure, I mean... Wow. And uh... how does this work? I accept and poof? Or do I have to... Anything else? 
- All you have to do is sign this document. That's all. Think carefully, Miss Ivanovich. Opportunities like this don't come along every day. »   
Politely, the young woman takes the documents handed to her, before heading for the exit, rather bewildered. Resuming her guard duty with her head half in the clouds, she walks home quite lost, staring at the black lines in front of her and trying to understand why all the hospital staff had chosen her for such a tempting opportunity, without asking for anything in return. 
« - Did you hear about the new clinic? It's going up right next door to you. 
- Really? »   
Taehyung watches as Jungkook shifts in his chair, looking nervous, passing the pen between his fingers from one hand to the other, while his feet keep hitting the floor. A slight smile crossed Taehyung's lips; he didn't know why Mr Jeon was so tense, but it amused him. Putting his hands against his chest, trying to see if his boyfriend was paying attention to him, the doctor finally got up, walking around the office to join him, calmly pushing him back against his chair, curious. 
« - Is Mr Jeon listening to me? 
- Excuse me, Mr Kim. I admit I'm having trouble. 
- Oh, you can't concentrate? 
- Not really. »   
A smile passes, and he leans in, kissing her warmly, as his fingers pass against her torso, delicately opening the shirt, kissing the nape of her neck, he slowly kneels in front of the younger man, surprised when he grabs her hair, forcing her to look him straight in the eye, the information having just visibly struck him. 
« - Wait, a new clinic? In my neighborhood? 
- Yes, in my neighborhood. The hospital director asked me to take care of it. 
- And you said yes? 
- Fixed hours, weekends off. You're the first to say I work too much. What's wrong with that? 
- Who else is hired? 
- Elyzabeth and two other nurses. »   
Curiosity crossed Taehyung's face as Jungkook put his shirt back on and started pacing. Surprised by this reaction, he looked at him as if at a sick animal, trying to describe what was going through Jungkook's mind at that moment, waiting for him to speak or at least explain his reaction. 
« - Why did you say yes without telling me? 
- I beg your pardon? I didn't know I had to have your agreement, for anything that was an opportunity, even more so when it affected my quality of life. 
- You didn't tell me your schedule was a problem! 
- Seriously, what's your problem here? 
- My problem is that you just accepted a job opportunity that you shouldn't have. 
- Seriously? »  
Vexed, Taehyung finally gets to his feet, the tone having risen without them realizing it, and Taehyung puts a hand against his face, turning on his heels to head for the exit door, feeling Jungkook's iron grip against his arm as he turns him around without hesitation. Taehyung stared at him, trying to understand what his companion's problem might be, before feeling an aura he'd never felt when talking to Jungkook. Fear wormed its way into his body, as if Jungkook were about to pull out a gun and threaten him with it. Taehyung felt very small, and his lover must have understood this, stepping back knowing this, visibly huffing and puffing to let the anger pass. 
« - Taehyung... Listen to me carefully. If you go to work there, I won't be able to do anything for you. 
- What the hell are you talking about? 
- That I can't... I can't keep you safe if you work there. 
- Jungkook, I never asked you for anything. And the papers are already signed anyway. »  
A beat passed through the room as Taehyung pinched his lower lip, trying to understand what was happening. Four months of seemingly perfect romance, only for the cold shower to come over something as stupid as a much better job. Jungkook seems to be staring out of the window, while Taehyung isn't quite sure what's going on. But he knows he doesn't want to stay in a room where a man, even if he had been his lover, had scared him so much. Opening the door to leave, he's almost disappointed that Jungkook doesn't hold him back, heading back to his car in the rain, his heart heavy. Clearly, he and Jungkook were no longer together, and that hurt a lot more than he'd thought. 
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stalkedbyplanes · 11 months ago
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A Child of Ravens, Part Three
A Raven That Makes No Noise
The journey to the lands of the King Above the Mountain was going to be a long one, and it went by the ruined town where she first met the raven child.
The ground was still black with the curse laid down upon the town, mingling with the char and burn of the last townsperson’s attempt to use fire to counteract magical rot.
She walked along the now empty road. With the town dead there was no trade this way. Those going from the horse lords to the King Above the Mountain didn’t use these roads. So Melvana walked alone.
She slept in the empty fields beside the road and foraged what little food she could.
Occasionally she’d spy a black bird overheard, and sometimes a raven would descend to check on the beggar girl. Whenever a raven visited her she’d offer some berries she’d manage to collect.
She was always nice to ravens.
The birds became less frequent as she got closer to civilization. Melvana didn’t blame the birds, most people would throw sticks or rocks at them.
As she got closer to the mountain she was able to catch or sneak rides with farmers or other passers by.
Once there were more people it was easier to beg. She was able to get better or more consistent food.
However it seemed that the King Above the Mountain had made begging illegal and imposed harsh punishments on anyone unlucky enough to be caught. Or so a kindly old man who had given the dirty orphan child a ride through the foothills told her.
It was in the great mountain cities that Melvana had to learn to steal. And she found herself very adept at it. But even more so at climbing buildings and entering places she wasn’t supposed to be.
Few people locked their third or even fourth floor windows as securely as they did with the ground floor.
More than a few times Melvana had to climb buildings to outrun or lose pursuing guards who were ordered to cut off the hands of all beggars.
She survived the winter atop the mountain by hiding in the empty, narrow room inside the steeple of a cathedral bell tower. And by stealing enough coin or clothing to keep warm.
By all accounts it was a bad winter. Bitter cold with very little snow. Climbing the stone buildings had proved difficult if not outright impossible in the weather that lasted much longer on the mountain than it did on the ground.
Then there were the ravens. Usually they all retreated to the safety of the Ravenswood during the cold months. But this year there were at least a dozen birds lingering around the town. Perhaps they were trapped by the weather and couldn’t fly all the way back. Or perhaps they were waiting for something.
Either way Melvana offered them all sanctuary in her little room atop the bell tower. It was cramped but warm. She begged and stole what she could and bought what she couldn’t. Food and water for herself and the ravens. Extra blankets and clothes to line the walls of her room to keep the cold out.
She had even lucked into finding a book about sign language, a complicated language that used her hands and arms to convey meaning since her voice couldn’t.
Spring came and so did another year. The ravens departed, whatever they were waiting in did not come to pass. Melvana said her goodbyes with her hands and asked the ravens (who had read over her shoulder) to bring the book to Avro so they could talk with their hands too.
For a moment she was afraid the book would be too big for the birds to carry, but one raven landed on top of the book, spread its wings over it, and then it was gone.
Soon after the birds took flight, leaving behind another set of feathers for the girl.
Now she had seven feathers.
The summer proved to be much better. She was able to secure a job with a printing press and worked there several days a week. The pay was very bad, even by begging standards, but Melvana was given a single hot meal everyday and the use of a bath to remove the various ink stains from her skin.
But more than the guaranteed meal and regular baths, she was able to borrow lots of different kinds of books. She was never a fast reader, but now she was devouring every book she could get her hands on. The press she worked at was not so large that there was a large variety but there was enough different things for her to learn some interesting history and live vicariously through words on a page. Often the books she stole were misprints, or things with awkward typeface or crumbling bindings, but she loved them all the same.
And so it became her new habit that when she’d break into homes to steal clothing or coin, she’d always take some time to look through their bookshelves to see if they had any interesting looking books or volumes that she was missing in her favorite series about the princesses that rescued themselves or each other.
Throughout the summer and fall, Melvana entertained ravens in her little hideaway. She made sure they were always welcome and made sure to have food and water for whenever she had guests.
They were always a little distant, mostly because she couldn’t understand the language of birds despite her best efforts. But she asked about Avro and the individual birds she had gotten very good at recognizing. Once a bird would leave it would almost always gift her another feather.
By the time winter rolled in across the mountain top, Melvana had more feathers than she knew what to do with. And there seemed to be a consensus among the ravens that she be allowed to learn their magics.
It was a long process, since magic itself was difficult and learning through gesture was even more challenging. However, by the end of the winter she had become good enough at manipulating shadows along the wall (making them solid was something that was a bit too hard for her to do consistently), and if there was an emergency, Melvana had learned how to use up two or three feathers to cushion a fall from a great height.
The only trouble was that the more magic she did, shadow puppets on the wall notwithstanding, the darker her fingers got. Like the tips of them had been stained with ink. Not that she minded, her hands were always stained with ink, and the magic she could do was worth this small cost.
When it came to spring and once again the ravens went back to the Ravenswood she found herself in possession of a large number of ravens’ feathers. She now had 15. And whatever the ravens had been waiting for still hadn’t come to pass. She did make sure to give the ravens the gift she’d stolen for Avro: a wooden bird mask. It was pure white and very detailed, and was easily the most expensive thing she’d dared to steal. But she thought her raven child friend would appreciate it.
Another year started and for the first time she realized how much taller she was getting. By her count she was almost twelve, almost a teenager, almost an adult, almost a woman.
One day, near midsummer, she overheard her boss talking with another man. Her boss was short and thin and had a terrible mustache that didn’t suit his square face. The other gentleman was tall and well built. They were whispering about something important and secret, since the taller man didn’t want to speak around other people, meaning Melvana.
She didn’t mind, the only things adults talked about were who was fighting who, what important figure died among a conspiracy of ravens, is the King Under the Mountain actually threatening the King Above the Mountain, was there really such a thing as the Regency Killer, boring things.
“Sel, don’t worry about the girl. She’s dumb. Probably doesn’t even know what you’re saying. She agreed to work for bread and a bath, she actually makes me money to have her come in,” her boss said.
She really hated it when people called her dumb. By no means was she stupid and she could talk but it hurt to do so and she didn’t like her voice. So she wasn’t mute. This is why she didn’t feel bad stealing from her boss. And Melvana made a note to find something valuable tonight before she left to steal.
The taller man didn’t say anything, he scrutinized Melvana for a moment before saying, “I need six more books.”
“Which edition?”
“Second.”
“Standard layout?”
“No, with the errata.”
“It’ll cost you.”
“And I need it before tomorrow.”
“It’ll cost you extra.”
“Double the usual fee now, double upon completion.”
Her boss grinned widely, “I’ll have it done.”
For the rest of the unnecessarily long day, Melvana was tasked with taking one of the presses apart, resetting the entire thing to print a textbook “The Domains of the Mountain Kings” in an edition that had been out of print for several years. If she remembered correctly, she’d just printed a whole slew of fifth editions for this particular text a few months ago.
Her hands were sore and covered in ink before she was done, well after sunset. But the pages were printed and being given to one of the poorer binders. Claud was a nice enough kid, but he had a habit of breaking spines and misapplying glue so that covers peeled and broke. Melvana was never sure why he was still employed since he was so bad at his job, but she had finished her task. 10 textbooks had been printed, which felt like an absurdly small amount to reset an entire press for.
She collected her food and took a quick bath in the small secondary bathroom off the owner’s house next door. She wanted to be clean as to not leave any evidence when she came back after closing to swipe some books.
After several hours of waiting on a nearby rooftop, the press finally closed and her terrible boss locked up and walked back to his house. She waited until the lights inside the house went out and then she waited a little more.
Part of her thought she should have gone back to the bell tower to get more raven feathers, she only had three of them on her, but it wasn’t anything dangerous and she’d done this dozens of times before.
But tonight she was tempted to sneak into the boss’ house and take from him personally. He would have the good books, and nothing they printed lately had been any good.
Once she was sure that her boss was asleep, Melvana descended from the rooftop and crossed the street. Tonight, she decided, she would steal from her boss.
Her boss was well off, not as rich as some in this city but more than most in this district, so his house was four stories, but rather thin. She’d have to climb up to the third or fourth story.
The climb, as it always was these days, was easy for her. She made it up to the third floor, but through the glass she saw this was her boss’ sleeping quarters. One more floor up then.
Here the window wasn’t even locked, in fact it was still open. The late summer breeze was cool, and she didn’t blame her boss for this even as she laughed to herself about how easy this was.
Inside the house was dark, quiet, cool. Melvana’s favorite kind of house. She stayed absolutely still as she listened to the house, to the way it settled and breathed. She learned how to move in a sleeping house, to move on the exhales, be patient and take her time.
The fourth floor was not much of anything, storage space for out of season and excess things. One day she’d love to have excess anything. The only thing Melvana had in abundance was ravens’ feathers.
She moved to the stairs going down and waited and listened. Here she moved more carefully. This floor was where people slept, and it would be where she would be most vulnerable to the sudden awakening of any people. Luckily there was a door blocking the sleeping room and the stairs. She quietly descended to the second floor. This was a study of some sort. There was a fancy desk, book shelves all over the walls. She’d come back to this floor.
The first floor was the immediate prize, the kitchen. Here she helped herself liberally to her boss’ food. She ate fancy bread and cheese, the rich kind of cheese that smelled funny by spread excellently on the fresh bread. And she had an even rarer treat: some dried meats. Meat was something she could so rarely afford, so she filled her pockets with as much as she could for later.
Once she ate her fill, which was quite a lot, she moved back to the study and the walls of books. Unfortunately her boss’ books were things she realized were called Literature, with the capital and all the pretension that came with it. He didn’t have any of the fantasy stories she loved so much. Most of the books were largely about middle aged men and their affairs, or sad people being sad. She had enough sadness and stress in her life without her reading adding to it. Although in a small alcove, nestled away was a small collection of books labeled “erotic” which Melvana knew meant sex so she ignored those too.
Overall she was extremely disappointed in the books here. She did take the three volumes of The Quicksilver Knight. Mostly because the cover was fancy with silver leaf and fine black leather. If it wasn’t an interesting book she could probably sell it.
Maybe he had better books where he slept.
It wasn’t a thought she liked to have. To rob a man in the room where he slept was risky. Doubly so since her boss didn’t have any liquor or those drugs in the small bottles that make one sleep through death itself. People who drink or take those drugs sleep soundly and completely.
But still, one set of books that she didn’t even know if she’d like. And no coin.
Her want for better books won out, and she crept back upstairs. Melvana was nothing if not careful. She waited outside the bedroom door for ten minutes, just listening. She deposited her loot, the meat and the books, outside the door. If she dropped it or the bag knocked something off a shelf or even if her boss smelled the meat she would be caught. Best to leave it here and abandon it if necessary.
She waited until she heard the man asleep inside exhale and opened the door. A pause, wait for the next exhale and moved swiftly inside. The door was well made, expensive, so it didn’t squeak. Squeaky doors made it hard to steal things. If Melvana ever got a house all of her doors would squeak.
It was dark in the man’s sleeping room, the air dark and close.
She stood silently, waiting for her eyes to start picking out details. There were no books here, and for that she was severely disappointed.
There was barely anything of interest.
She looked around the room, not moving away from the door. Then she spied it: a lock-box. A dark wood box about the size of her head. There was a big shiny lock on it. There was something good in there, she knew it. But the lock would be a problem. It rested on a small desk next to the bed, by a stack of the books that she had printed earlier that day.
Curious she crept over to the books and grabbed one. Sure enough despite being brand new they looked like they were already worn and used because of Claud.
Melvana took one book and the lockbox. At the very least the book would annoy her boss if not provide any interesting reading. If she could get the box open, hopefully she’d have plenty of coin to spend on new clothes and shoes. She was starting to grow out of all of them. And if this stupid bleeding thing kept up she wouldn’t have anything not covered in blood.
Moving only on the exhale, Melvana crept back to the door and out. She grabbed her bag of goods, stashed the book, and silently made her way back upstairs.
Once she got near the open window she decided to try the box, but it was locked securely. On a lark she reached into her hair and pulled out one of the raven feathers she hid there. She pressed it into the lock and it popped open as if she had put in the key.
Delighted, even at the cost of one of her feathers, she opened the box only to find an elegant copy of the book she just stole. This one was nicely leather bound, the binding was done correctly, it was a perfect book. But why lock this one up?
Now Melvana just felt annoyed. She thrust the book into her too light loot bag and climbed back out the window.
For anyone else carrying a bag full of five books and a pound of dried meat while scaling down a four story building would be difficult, for Melvana it was no trouble.
She made it to the street with little effort, took her time to make sure no one was around or watching her before she stepped out and made her way to her home.
Someone melted out of the shadows, a tall man dressed head to toe in dark leather. He looked like a shadow. How she didn’t see him, Melvana didn’t know, but this was the type of man that she would turn and run from.
She didn’t run, but she did turn on her heel and started walking away as quickly as possible.
The man looked at her, then at her bag, and as she turned away he reached out for her.
He just barely managed to grab the bag and pull Melvana to a halt.
“Have you been thieving?” He asked in a gruff voice.
Instead of stopping she turned around and ran towards the man that grabbed her bag. She ran right passed him once again going in the opposite direction. The sudden change in tactic caught him off guard and she slipped through his fingers.
Every other time she had been pursued it was by guards or angry victims. This was something else, this man was something else.
She did what she always did and climbed the nearest building. This one was a short three story house. Melvana clamored up, not worried about being quiet only concerned with speed. She was fast, but this man wasn’t slow. She managed to crest the roof with him barely an arms length away.
Not waiting she ran across the roof and jumped to the next building, a tall five story shop and house combination. Her strong fingers bit into the stone as she hit the wall and once again she was climbing. The bag with all her loot hanging away awkwardly at her thighs.
Still the man followed her. He was almost as good at climbing as she was.
He chased her across rooftops and unlike every other adult she’d ever run from, he didn’t tired out after a few blocks, nor was he deferred by the climbing.
He matched her step by step.
Until she came to a roof on the edge of a major road. Somehow she’d gotten turned around, forgot where she was running. The next roof, the next building was easily 40 feet away. She couldn’t make it, and with the man behind her she couldn’t make it to any other roof.
They stood on the roof together, breathing heavy.
“Oh you’re good kid, a real natural. Didn’t even see you in the house,” the man said between deep breaths. “And you can climb like a damn monkey. But I need the book you stole.”
Melvana shook her head. I don’t have a book.
“Yes you do. It’s the most valuable thing in that place, of course you have it. Give it to me and you’ll leave this rooftop alive.”
She reached up into her hair and pulled out the last two raven feathers she had, held on in each hand. This wasn’t something she had ever practice or done. But she’d seen Avro do it a number of times during her time in the Ravenswood.
She turned and ran, right off the edge of the roof. She made it maybe ten feet when she flapped her arms, holding on tight to the feathers. Wings, she needed wings. Or enough air to make it to the next building.
For a second, in the glorious dark of the moon, she swore she had wings. Beautiful, dark raven wings that beat once in time with her arms.
She slammed into the side of the building, the wind knocked from her chest, but her fingers held tight. After she filled her lungs with breath, she climbed up onto the roof. The man was still across the street. He was watching her, and she couldn’t tell what his expression was. So she didn’t waste any time and jumped to the next roof and ran away as fast as she could.
Melvana ran to the far end of the city and then slowly made her way back towards the bell tower she slept in.
This climb was difficult. The adrenaline had left her blood and her limbs were tired. But she made it.
There was only one raven tonight, who cawed in a tone that she recognized as concerned.
With her hands she greeted the bird.
Hello William.
Another caw, more concern.
Out stealing. A man caught me, chased me.
Caw, alarm.
He couldn’t follow me, I used feathers.
Silence this time.
He wasn’t a guard or a city man. He was something different. Another thief maybe. It might not be safe here. You should leave soon. Tell the others coming back here might be dangerous.
Another caw, concern again.
I need to sleep first. Then I’ll go in the morning.
The raven ruffled its feathers and jumped to her shoulder where it poked her gently on the side of the head. Which she knew to mean, “use your head more.”
I will.
The bird took off into the night air and Melvana collapsed into sleep.
The dawn bell woke her roughly, pulled from a deep sleep that had left her disoriented and dry mouthed when she was ripped from sleep. She couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of rest. But still it was dawn and she was getting a late start. By the time she packed up everything to leave the only home she ever knew it might be obvious that a girl was climbing out of the bell tower.
The most important thing to get was her collection of raven feathers. She gathered the few that were left, 9 not counting the two she got from Avro. Then she grabbed her favorite books, which were unfortunately heavy. Then she put on all of the clothing she owned. These were too important, too expensive to ever leave.
It was going to be uncomfortably warm in all these layers but she had no other choice: she had to leave town.
“Fuck you’re hard to find,” said a voice from the other side of the small room.
Melvana didn’t even look, she grabbed her bag of books and jumped. The raven feathers in her hand crumbled to ash as she cushioned her seventy foot fall to the ground. The second her feet gently touched the stone paths outside the cathedral she was running as fast as she could.
But something stopped her. The world went dark, she couldn’t see anything and she smelled something sickly sweet. Like overripe fruit bordering on rot.
Then she knew nothing.
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worksinprogress1 · 2 years ago
Text
Saturn walked through the dorm halls, clutching his abra, Betty, like a ragdoll as the Pokémon levitated his luggage behind him. Maybe choosing to stay in men’s dorms hadn’t been a good idea. Not that he was exactly comfortable living with a stranger of any gender given how shy he was, but since he hadn’t transitioned at all or even used a non-feminine his name on any of the paperwork, this was starting to feel like a mistake. He got to the room with his number- 108- took a deep breath, and slowly opened the door.
Saturn’s roommate, a young man with sharp eyes and frosty blue hair, was already there, bags unpacked and nose in a book. If the stranger had noticed that someone had come in, he didn’t show it.
Saturn signed for Betty put his bags down in front of his bed. They dropped loudly, prompting Saturn to cringe as the stranger peered up at him.
“Hey. My name is Venus,” Saturn managed.
The other man put down his book and looked him over, dull-eyed and surely thinking that ‘Venus’ was a strange name for someone in the men’s dorms.  “I don’t want to call you that,” the man said.
“…What?”
“That name makes you uncomfortable. Give me one that won’t make you uncomfortable.” The man waited a moment as Saturn attempted to gather himself and respond. “Or, I could call you nothing at all. It seems that neither of us are enthused about sharing space. Perhaps we’d prefer to ignore eachother entirely.” The man’s tone wasn’t annoyed- he sounded like he was just stating dry facts.
“No, it’s not that, I just- well, I don’t quite have a name picked out. I mean, I’m not out to my parents, so…”
“You don’t need to tell them the truth. Tell them you don’t want to be named ‘Venus’ because Venus is a lousy planet. The less you care about others, the more ability you will have to live as you see fit.”
“Um. Okay.” Saturn turned away, opened up his suitcase, and set to unpacking. Once the initial agitation wore off, Saturn wondered where on earth this man got so much nerve and where he could find some of it. He might as well try to find out. It wasn’t like they were off to a great start as roommates, so what did he have to lose?
“Some of my friends call me Saturn,” Saturn explained, “It started as a placeholder, but I’m getting used to it. What’s your name?”
“Cyrus.”
“Cool. I’m going to take a look at the bar across the street from campus. Do you want to join me?”
“Sure,” Cyrus answered, with some hesitation.
Saturn would give Canalave one thing- their university knew how to throw a welcome week. Unfortunately, since it was nearly five, most of the booths for campus clubs and other features were currently being packed up for the day. It might have been interesting to check them out together since he didn’t have anyone else to go with.
“So, what are you here for?” Saturn asked as they passed through the various stands.
“My scholarships are in engineering, so that will be the majority of my classes,” Cyrus explained, not sounding especially excited. “You?”
“Well, uh. I don’t know. I mean, my goal up until a month ago was basically just to distract myself until I die. But my family scrapped together the cash to send me here, so I’m vaguely obligated to do something. Pretty sure they’re mostly just hoping this’ll keep me out of prison, though.”
“Prison?”
Saturn held up the floral-printed purse he’d snatched from a booth while its owner’s back was turned. He took 3000 poké from it, then snapped his fingers. On cue, Betty teleported it back.
“I... see,” Cyrus said, looking at Saturn with more alertness than before.
“Yeah. Betty here has been my partner in crime for, well, a long time,” Saturn explained, rubbing the Pokémon between the ears as it floated beside him. “So, you don’t seem that interested in engineering. What do want to do with your life?”
Cyrus looked forward as they walked, his face serious. “It’s not that I’m uninterested in engineering. It’s that millions upon millions of people are born, suffer, and die and the world remains incomplete no matter how many of them attempt to change it for the better. Something has to radically change and it won’t be through technology alone. My goal is to figure out how to change it.”
“Oh. Wow. You sound like a real visionary.”
“I suppose so. But you’re the one who’s actually taken risks. You must have some interesting stories about your criminal exploits.”
Saturn laughed. “That makes it sound like I robbed a bank. But yeah, I have stories.”
It was a short walk to the bar. Unsurprisingly, given the number of students that had arrived that day, the bar was packed despite it barely being evening. The music blared and several dozen people attempted to yell over it and each other. Why humans willingly put themselves in locations like this, let alone managed to do something as nuanced as socialize in them, was beyond Cyrus. But he could manage this. He needed to learn more about people to decide how to change the world, and Saturn was a good start, given his willingness to spend time with him.
They were seated. Saturn asked questions Cyrus could barely make out. Cyrus gave short answers. It was better not to attempt anything more complicated than that while most of his cognitive resources were focused on filtering out the noise.
“Want to have them move us to the patio so it’s quieter?” Saturn asked after a few minutes of conversation, his tone leaving no question that he’d noticed Cyrus’ discomfort.
“If you’d prefer it,” Cyrus replied, taking care to sound indifferent, as though that would save face.
Wonderful. Now Saturn would think he was strange and inadequate and want nothing to do with him. He’d lost the respect of a compliant human being because a bar was loud.
And yet, Saturn hadn’t rushed to leave that night. In fact, after they got going, they’d talked for hours. And strangely enough, the next day Saturn invited him out to look at the booths for various clubs. And Cyrus agreed to it.
Saturn dragged him to the first meetings of various clubs so he’d have someone to go with. They played video games together, and Cyrus lost every time. They stayed up late exchanging jokes and stories on nights they couldn’t sleep. They discussed each other’s classes to the point where Saturn majored in engineering because he’d found Cyrus’ rambles on the subject so interesting. And Saturn was good at it. Saturn transitioned. He gained confidence. He gained other friends. And yet for some reason he chose to spend time with Cyrus. Every time Cyrus was sure he’d acted a bit too strange, been a bit too much or too weak, or that Saturn would leave him for better options, Saturn didn’t lose interest in him. It was baffling, but pleasant.
---
“Thanks for agreeing to look over this, especially on such short notice,” Saturn said, logging into the library computer. It was a bit past 1 am and finals were still a few weeks away, so they were the only ones there.
“It’s fine,” Cyrus answered. “This is about what I’d be doing at this hour anyhow.” It was true. While Saturn being up at this hour was rare and usually meant he was upset, Cyrus frequently spent the early morning hours on whatever his current interest was. And although Saturn was the one taking a class in Sinnoh myth and history, hearing about it had sparked a fiery research interest in Cyrus.
“Right.” Saturn opened up his presentation on the Celestica people. “Alright. Here it is. I made sure to follow the syllabus, but it’s on a pretty complicated subject, so I thought I’d make sure. It’s on the evidence for and against whether the Celestica people actually met with Arceus and received blessings from him.”
“That is a complicated subject,” Cyrus said, looking over the first few slides. “They did seem like God’s chosen for a while- long-lived and able to thrive in a land others struggled in. People use the fact that they were wiped out as counter-evidence, but personally, I think that Arceus left them because it didn’t want to be near the Diamond and Pearl clans. People tend to forget that, while He may have created the universe, He’s ultimately just a Pokémon with His own desires.”
Cyrus continued looking through the slides. It was flawless, not that he expected any less of Saturn. At some point in the past few years, Saturn had stopped stealing and started taking his schoolwork seriously, and the effort showed.
“It looks as though you’ve gone above and beyond on this. There is nothing to worry about.”
“Okay. Sorry, I just... kind of wanted this presentation to impress someone.”
That got more of Cyrus’ attention than he would have liked. “There’s no need to worry about that. It’s a first-year class. Most people in it won’t know a fantastic presentation from a mediocre one. Who is it?”
“Oh, believe me, he’d be able to tell. And it’s just... someone. A crush from some of my classes. Sinnoh myths is basically all he talks about these days, and I guess I wanted to show that I was paying attention, or could keep up, or... y’know, it sounds stupid now that I say it out loud. Let’s go back to our room.”
And so they did. Neither of them wanted to go to bed yet, so they ended up sitting on Saturn’s bed and talking, Betty curled up against Cyrus’ chest.
“Want to hear a story?” Cyrus asked.
“Sure,” Saturn said, stroking Betty as she purred.
“When I was seventeen, my family tried to pair me off with a girl from another prestigious family,” Cyrus started. There was no need to give context. Saturn knew that Cyrus’ mom had chased after the acceptance of his wealthy relatives and eventually gotten it. He hadn’t spoken of the abuse of course, just the context needed for stories. “I was a few months away from escaping to the other side of Sinnoh and cutting all ties with them, so she wasn’t in my plans. They had her over for dinner so we could meet. I did the bare minimum expected of me. But then then they left us alone in a room together. She had ideas of what we should do together, so to increase her chances of us a shotgun wedding. If the fact they’d left us wine was any indication, my family had similar ideas. I ‘accidentally’ drenched her dress in red wine and told her she’d better go home and put it in the wash before the stains set in. She made a show of removing all her clothing, handed it to me, and told me that she’d be ready for me when I came back. When I came back, I brought her a towel to cover up with. I still remember the look on her face. There were several, actually. One right after the other.” In imitation of her, Cyrus contorted his face into shock and then anger and then defeat.
Saturn laughed. “Oh Arceus, that poor girl had a tough audience, huh? Well, shame on her.”
Cyrus smiled. “Yes, well, I don’t blame her. Humans are in a constant struggle to fill these voids inside of us. It’s natural that we hurt each other- or attempt to, in this case- in the process. You know, Dialga and Palkia could change that with a figurative snap of their fingers. I wonder why they don’t.”
“Free will, probably?
“If we lived in a world where everyone was constantly intoxicated, would it be a violation of free will to make us sober? Or would it increase our free will, allow us to make clear-headed decisions?”
“That’s a good point. Actually, I think I get what you’re saying.” Saturn opened his arms and let Betty float into his gentle embrace. “I used to be able to talk to Betty telepathically. Everyone thought I was going to be a psychic gym leader. But the more pressure people put on me, the more static there was, until I couldn’t hear her anymore. I had a mediocre Pokémon journey, I started having feelings about my body, I started stealing because why not at that point, and yeah… I just kept getting further from the person I’m supposed to be. It would be nice if someone could just take away all the static, you know?” Saturn was shaking a little. Betty clung to his chest to keep him calm.
“You understand,” Cyrus stated. He’d tried to explain his philosophy to others- people he considered intelligent, or simply whoever would listen. They’d called his ideas things like “ridiculous,” or “depressing” and one had even suggested he get his head checked. None had ever truly considered them before. Cyrus got up and started pacing. “Excellent. I have a lot to explain to you. You see, the human spirit is-”
Saturn’s sad eyes met Cyrus’, and it suddenly occurred to Cyrus that this was not the time.  He sat back down next to him. “Ahem. I think that clearing up the… ‘static’ would change less about you than you think. Further, if we could complete the spirits of others, they would be able to see that as well.” Cyrus paused, looking at Saturn’s face to gauge if he’d said enough. “I like the person you’ve become.”
“Thanks,” Saturn replied. “Want to play some video games?”
Cyrus moved to speak, but Saturn cut him off “Don’t lecture me on staying up. You’re staying up. I know you don’t sleep until you crash.”
The next day, Cyrus found himself wandering in to the lecture hall for Saturn’s Sinnoh myths and history class. There were enough people in the lecture hall that he wasn’t noticed. He couldn’t have told you why he’d come. The presentations were amateurish. Cyrus could be learning far more had he gone to the library. 
It wasn’t as though he cared that Saturn had a romantic interest. Saturn had proven to be a loyal friend, and even if he wasn’t, Cyrus had lived without friends before and could do it again. Sure, Saturn made his life more pleasant, and sure, Cyrus felt and acted more human around him than he would have liked, but it wasn’t as though he needed him. And if anything, it was good that Saturn had someone to fulfill a role he couldn’t. Cyrus was above lust. Men, women, they could be pleasant to look at, but it was no different to him than paintings or flowers or Pokémon or any other source of beauty. He’d never experienced the kind of disgusting emotions that would lead a man to betray his family or worse. Not that anyone he’d seen presenting seemed particularly suitable for Saturn, either.
Finally, it was Saturn’s turn to present. Saturn spotted Cyrus in the audience. He smiled at him, and Cyrus’ stomach flipped.
Oh, no… this… this won’t do.
Finals came and passed. Cyrus and Saturn spent a lovely winter break together. Cyrus was remarkably close-mouthed about what classes he would take next semester, but otherwise, everything seemed normal. And then, three days into the next semester, Saturn came to their room one and all of Cyrus’ things were gone. He couldn’t get ahold of Cyrus by phone, either. He didn’t hear from Cyrus again until mid-May, after Saturn’s final semester was completed.
It was the middle of the day when Saturn received the phone call from that familiar number. He picked up the phone.
“Cyrus?”
“Saturn. Are your classes finished?” Cyrus asked, his tone business-like.
“Um… yeah? It’s great to hear from you.”
“Good. Would you like a job at my energy company?”
“Your what? How did you…?”
“That can be answered in time. I’m willing to pay you as though you have ten years of experience. We’re located in Eterna. If you’d like, you could stay with me until you find other arrangements.”
Saturn stayed silent for a while. This was all very strange. It was also a deal that no fresh-from-school professional would refuse, assuming there wasn’t a catch. And he did want to see Cyrus again.
“I’ll take it,” Saturn said. Hopefully he’d feel better about this once he reached Eterna.
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yelenasdiary · 2 years ago
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Hello, I saw that you have your requests open (and I love your writings) so...
You can do a ff where reader and Natasha are getting divorced. Reader is starting to date someone else, while Natasha still can't get over her… but of course, with a happy ending. please?
💕
Another Chance
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Summary: When another door closes, another opens, right?  
Angst | Fluff | 2.3K | 
Translation: dorogoy (sweetheart), YA lyublyu vas (I love you)
AC: Wrote this while my friend was passed out asleep snoring so freaking loud! 
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"Nat please! it's almost been 12 months! I need you to just sign the damn divorce papers" you spoke sternly with your arms crossed while looking at the red head who stood defeated in front of you. "I've been busy, I'm sorry" she mumbled as she searched the top drawer of her office for a pen. Any excuse to prolong the awaited divorce with a stack of mixed pens sitting in the pen holder in front of her. "You keep saying that Nat" you replied with a roll of your eyes. 
It wasn't easy 11 months ago when you placed the papers on Natasha's side of the bed before you left to stay with your best friend. After countless nights of arguments and drunken words being thrown between the two of you, it was time to admit that your marriage had fallen apart. After every heated fight you would lock yourself away in the bathroom with tears streaming down your face as you wondered how on earth the two of you had gone to this point. Screaming at each other over things that simply didn't matter after 5 minutes. You never asked for Natasha to give up most of her workload, she did it purely because she loved you, but you saw in her eyes how much she missed being on missions with her other family. 
Most nights you'd come home from work to the shared home dark and painfully quiet with the bedroom light on and the door closed. Not even getting a simple hello was even to start an argument between the two of you. As the tension went on, the more Natasha closed herself off and then you found yourself coming home to an empty house, only to be woken up in the early hours of the morning when Natasha would stumble into the bedroom smelling of booze and cigarette.
"Here!" You grabbed a pen from the holder and placed it on top of the white stack of paper with printed words, "just sign them, please".
"Can't we work this out?" Natasha looked up at you with eyes of hurt, "this isn't like us" she added. "Natasha please, I don't want to go through this again…we tried. We did the therapy, and it didn't do anything…I need to move on, I want to move on" you admitted as you took a slight step back away from her desk. Natasha sighed as she threw herself onto the chair as she took another quick look over the agreement, her eyes locked onto the only signature on them. "You'll have to get another one drafted up" she spoke, breaking the silence. You frowned and shook your head, "No more stalling Natasha, please I just need you to sign them so I can finally go on a –"you paused quickly before finishing your sentence. Natasha slowly looked up at you, placing the blue pen gently back on the paper. 
"So, you can what?" She asked, searching your eyes for the answer she could only wish wasn't true. "It doesn't matter" you mumbled with sorry in your tone. "Are you seeing somebody?" Natasha asked with a slight tilt of her head. Your eyes dropped for a moment knowing you couldn't hide the fresh relationship with your new partner any longer. "Yeah" you nodded as your eyes reconnected with Natasha's, only then did you finally see something shift inside her. "Oh" she grabbed the pen, "well, I'm uh, I'm happy for you" she added before placing the bed back into the pen holder. "Thanks" you smiled ever so softly. 
"I can't sign these; I don't agree to them anymore. We need to get them redone" she spoke with a stern voice as she placed the papers back into the yellow envelope. "What are you talking about? We both agreed to split everything 50/50" you frowned. "That was before I decided to go back to work full time – "
"Wait, when did that happen?" You asked, cutting her off. 
"A few weeks ago, I needed it" she replied as she stood from her desk and reached out to hand you the envelope. "I don't need the house, or the joint bank account, I don't want anything. You can have it all" she added. 
"Natasha! That'll take weeks to redo! I don't care what you do with your half, sell the house for all I care but please… just sign the papers" you said, refusing to take the divorce papers from her hand. "I'm sorry, I'll contact my lawyer first thing in the morning and ask them to do it as soon as they can" 
You could see there was no fighting Natasha on this one when her eyes flickered to your feet and her hand still reached out for you. With a sigh you snatched the envelope and shoved it back into your handbag, "I really thought you'd finally see how much this hurts! We're not the same anymore Natasha, we don't love each other. We fought all the time…then you started drinking and let's face it, you avoided me…all I asked was for you to sign them today and you can't even do that!" you said as you looked at the woman you once called your wife. Natasha stood in silence as she watched you leave her office and out the front door of the once shared home. "I do love you, I'm sorry" she spoke to herself as tears filled her eyes. 
The following week, Maria found Natasha avoiding anything on the topic of you. When asked how things went she just smiled softly and said 'fine'. Wanda wanted to invite you to the boy's birthday party as she'd grown close to you since you met Natasha only 6 years ago. You accepted the invitation with excitement as it had been a long time over due since you last saw Wanda and the twins and the rest of the team for that matter but when Natasha found out you'd be bringing your new partner along, she pulled out. It broke her in ways she never thought she could be hurt. The thought of you with somebody else made her heart ache, she still loved you with every inch of herself but now she hated that she allowed herself to let you down the way she did. 
On the twins birthday 2 weeks later, shortly after they blew their candles out, Natasha texted you saying she had the new divorce papers ready for you. Your smile dropped as you read her text, knowing she wasn't here to celebrate the twins birthday because of you brought a different feeling of pain to your heart. "Can you tell Wanda I'll be back shortly?" You turned to your girlfriend with a forced smile. "Of course darling, is everything okay?" She asked, you nodded, "it's fine, I just need to go pick up something" you smiled before placing a soft kiss on her forehead. She knew it had to be about the divorce, she could see in your eyes whenever something had to do with Natasha that they would change slightly in color or you struggled to keep eye contact and became less affectionate but she was patient and understood the divorce was still fresh, even now, 12 months later. 
"They're signed" Natasha's jaw clenched as you picked up the yellow envelope from her desk. "Thank you" you replied softly but Natasha only muttered to herself as she walked towards the front door to hold it open for you. "Y…you should've come today…the twins looked great in their dress up" you smiled softly trying to strike a conversation. "Yeah well, I wasn't exactly wanting to see my wi- to see you with whoever your new partner is. I'm happy for you, I am…but I think it's best we keep our distance" she replied, her eyes staring coldly into yours. 
"Come on, Nat…we're adults…we can be in the same room together without it being awkward…right?" You frowned slightly as you stood in front of her. She shook her head before her eyes dropped to her feet, "No, we cant" she replied quickly, wanting nothing more than to be left alone go cry out her sorrows. "Nat, it's been 12 months – "
"I still love you" she blurted out before you could finish your sentence, "and seeing you with somebody else –" she paused as her eyes flickered to hide her building tears.
 "Natasha" you stepped forward, wanting to hold her once last time even if you knew it would make things worse for the red head, you couldn't deny that you still cared for her. "I will always love you" her glassy wet eyes looked at you, "I hoped that maybe if I didn't sign the papers then we'd have some extra time to work things out and find each other again" 
"Nat, don't do this to yourself…what we had was beautiful and I'll always have a special place in my heart for you but…we just couldn't do it" your heart dropped at your own words, hating the fact that something so beautiful was now turning into something so strange.
"I was stupid, I'll take responsibility for that. I didn't stop to think about your feelings when I should have and now it's cost me –"
"Nat, please" tears filled your eyes. "It cost me the love of my life" she continued, ignoring your plea, "I love you, Y/n" she added while searching your eyes for any sign of hope that you still felt that love for her. "I can't stop, all I think about is you, all I hear is you, I can't bare to be in this house without you…I don't want to find something new and have to settle because all I want, all I ever want is you" tears breaking free from the green eyes you missed so much. Even though you've heard her say similar things before, this time not only could you see the difference in her body language, but you now felt her feelings and it only caused you to break down with her. 
"Don't cry darling" you heard her say softly as she did her best to wipe her flowing tears, "I'm going away for a few months with Yelena, that should give you enough time to sort out what you want to do with the house" 
"W-what? How long?" You asked but she refused to answer. "Nat, how long" you asked once again, Natasha looked at you, "until I get over you" she said almost a little too bluntly. Your eyes dropped at her reply as you took a step back, "I'm sorry, Y/n but I can't be around you and ignore that I love you so much" Natasha added. "Just promise me one thing" you said, your eyes slowly looking back up into hers. 
"Anything, dorogoy"
Your heart skipped a beat at the pet name, something you didn't think you'd hear her call you ever again. "Please…stay safe and stay in contact with Clint" 
"I promise" she smiled ever so softly. 
--7 Months later—
It was Wanda who let it slip that Natasha and Yelena were coming back to town and even though you knew she probably didn't want to see you; you couldn't help yourself but visit the compound and wait for her by her room. 
After she left, your mind wouldn't rest. Always thinking about the words, she spoke that day you picked up the divorce papers, thinking about how she looked and how you felt knowing she was gone without any way for you to make contact. Clint texted you a few times whenever you asked how things were just to make sure she and Yelena were okay, but his replies were dry and blunt and you knew that was Natasha talking, not Clint. 
"Y/n?" You heard Natasha's voice only a few steps from her room, "what are you doing here?" She asked with slight shock. "D-did you mean it?" You asked once she came to a stop before you, "everything you said…did you mean it?" You repeated. A moment of silence between you both started to build, looking both of each other in the eyes, searching for an answer. "Yes" Natasha finally spoke, nodding. A soft, gently smile tugged at your lips as you pulled the yellow envelope from your handbag. 
"What's this?" She asked even though she already knew what you were handing her, "I already signed them…" she added. "Just take a look, please" you replied as she slowly grabbed the envelope. You watched in silence as Natasha pulled the documents out, looking back and forth between you and the papers in front of her. 
"You didn't sign them?" 
"I thought I could….but after what happened when I last saw you, I couldn't stop seeing the pain in your eyes Nat…I'm so sorry I let us fall apart –"
"It wasn't you, it was me" She cut you off. 
"Does it matter who it was in the end? I gave up too easily, I let you slip just as much as you let me slip…Nat, I love you and being with somebody else just isn't the same. It isn't want I want…it's you, you're the one I want…if you'll still have me" tears built in your eyes but even breaking the eye contact you had with her. She smiled softly and dropped her bags before taking the few steps to close the gap between you both, "YA lyublyu vas" she whispered as she gently cupped your face, "will you have me?" She asked. 
Nodding with a tugging smile, "of course" you replied. 
Natasha didn't waste another second before her lips were gently and softly pressed against yours as she pulled you closer into her arms as you wrapped yours around the nape of her neck. "Let's go home" you smiled against her lips. "You didn't sell?" Natasha asked as she pulled away a little, still keeping you in her arms.
 "I couldn't, it's our home"
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enchantedblackrose · 2 years ago
Text
Perfect
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Jay Halstead/ Fem Reader
Summary: Jay's going to be a daddy
Tw: pregnancy, no graphic details of pregnancy or childbirth
Author's note: gif credit @xofeno Song Lady by Brett Young. Lyrics are in italics/not mine.
Perfect
You stand in your bathroom, waiting for the time to pass. You need a distraction. Slowly, you wash your hands again. After drying them quickly on the closest hand towel, you start to untie your hair from its messy bun. You didn't mean to, but you glance and see it. A wave of nausea hits for an entirely different reason now, a twinge of excitement creeps into your stomach. Your heartbeat quickens and you think you may cry.
"Jay," you call out, leaving the bathroom. Your own voice sounds foreign to you. Jay peers out from the kitchen. After a long day turned into a longer night at work for you both, he was fixing a frozen pizza for you two to split.
"Babe?" He asks after a moment of you not saying anything. He looks at you questioningly as you stand wordlessly in front of him, wearing only an oversized t-shirt.
You've dreamt of this day for a while and now that it's here, this is so far from how you ever imagined telling him, but you can't keep it to yourself; you'll surely burst if you try.
"I'm pregnant." You watch Jay anxiously as the realization of your words hit. A large, but cautious smile fills his face. There's hope reflecting in his light eyes.
"Are you sure?"
You nod. Suddenly you feel his arms wrapping you in a tight embrace. He kisses the top of your head. Then your cheek, followed by your other cheek. He pecks your lips. His excitement seems to grow with every kiss.
"A baby, y/n," Jay stops to look at you. "We're having a baby." Gingerly he places a hand on your tummy, though there's no physical signs of life growing inside of you just yet. "My baby's in there."
"Our baby," you gently correct as you smile up at the soon to be father.
I remember when I first heard your heartbeat It had only been eight weeks Standing there, starin' at that screen Was the first time you ever scared me
"I'm here! I'm here! What'd I miss?" A very manic Jay bursts into your exam room where you're having your first ultrasound.
Your tech looks at you bemused. "This must be the father?"
You nod. "That’s my husband." You refrain from laughing, because as crazy as Jay appears right now, the worry he missed something is both evident and adorable. You reassure him that nothing has happened yet.
He relaxes and takes a seat near your table and the screen. 
Warm gel is applied to your exposed abdomen and within a few seconds the fast thump thump thump fills the otherwise quiet room. You and Jay lock eyes. 
"That’s your baby's heartbeat," the tech reassures you both. 
"It sounds like galloping horses," you murmur, already in love with the sound.
"It's so fast," comments Jay, clearly concerned. "Is that normal?"
"Yep. It's exactly what you want to hear and is measuring great." Jay lets out an audible breath relieved. Your tech continues with the ultrasound, captures images and measurements, confirms you're growing only one baby, gives you an estimated due date, before finally concluding. A few images have been printed off for you two to take home. The tech leaves the room for you to dress. When you're done, you can't help but notice Jay still staring at the ultrasound pictures. A smile is on his face.
I hope you look just like your momma And love her like I do
"I just really want a milkshake if you don't mind," you say, a hand resting on your growing belly. "And maybe a steak please? With a baked sweet potato for the side." You grin sheepishly. 
Jay only chuckles as he continues to rub your bare feet. "Are we going out, or…?"
You groan. "I'm just so tired.'
He laughs again. "Not a problem, babe. I'll go bring it home." He lifts your feet from his lap to stand.
"You're sure?" You ask, standing up too after putting forth a bit more effort than you're used to.
"I don't mind. You just keep taking care of yourself and my…our baby." He gives you a quick kiss on the lips.
"Wait," you say, catching him by the wrist. "Boy or girl?" You cradle your stomach, as if putting it on display, then offer a profile view. It became routine for you to ask him this every few weeks.
Jay doesn't hesitate, "I still say girl. I'm calling it right now and not charging my mind. You?"
"I think girl too." Jay turns to leave but you stop him again. "If it is, will you be okay? I mean if the baby is a girl and you get a daughter first, not a son?"
"Y/n," Jay says softly. "All I want is a healthy baby and a healthy you." You smile and let Jay leave to fetch your food.
The next night, you and Jay are cuddled in bed. The TV plays in the background. Your head rests on his chest. 
"My life is going to be pink with princesses and bows forever now, isn't it?'
You giggle. Your ultrasound today confirmed what you both already knew to be true: baby Halstead is a girl. "And glitter," you add. Jay pretends to groan, then resumes suggesting names for your child. 
"Rose," he offers.
You consider it, "Maybe. Shawna?"
"Nah."
"Willa? You know after Will?"
Jay thinks for a moment. "That’s nice, y/n. Maybe. You know…She could be a ginger like him." You laugh, having forgotten genetics and that possibility. Jay grows serious as he pulls you in closer to him. "I hope she looks like you…y/e/c eyes, y/h/c hair and that infectious smile of yours.'
"Okay, my hair, but your eyes," you say, closing your own. Jay laughs as he turns off the TV, knowing neither one of you can control what the baby will look like. 
"One thing for certain, she is so loved already." He kisses your tummy before kissing you.
You can always run to daddy You'll always be my baby
"It's time," you say. Jay takes your hand in his to squeeze it before they wheel you off to labor and delivery.
Your eyes are heavy as you grow tired. Jay seems to notice.
"Do you want me to take her for a bit?" You nod and he carefully lifts your newborn baby from your chest and cradles her gently in his arms.
"She's tiny," you muse, a content smile on your lips as you watch the love of your life holding your baby girl.
"She's perfect," Jay whispers. His lips barely brush your forehead with a soft kiss as you drift to sleep. "You both are."
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