#tobins palm

[kellymagovern]

This is the Papa Roach that I remember. Before they blew up with "Last Resort," they had a little debut album from 1997, called "Old Friends from Young Years." This song, "Orange Drive Palms," will always be my favorite of theirs. (Video credit here.)

[jumpei-kawamura]

Shoe on a Palm：02029 “Craig Green x adidas” CG Scuba Stan illustration by Jumpei Kawamura

[nametakensff]

Could you possibly write 🧡 for platonic S/tobin? I love the way you always allude to them in your S/teddie fics, and I’d love to see how you write them!

Hey anon, thank you for the prompt (Warm Night In)! Had a lot of fun writing this, and it ended up just over 8k!

((Set this in my S/teddie Mutual fetish AU - this would take part a few months after the S4 v/ecna bs (obviously everyone lives and H/awkins remains unscathed for the most part because I crave happiness) - pre-relationship, mutual pining on either side))

S/teve comes down with an absolute monster of a cold and R/obin is there to look after him

~~~~~~

Content:

Platonic S/tobin, S/teddie pre-relationship (M/M), cold sneezes, loud sneezes, sneezing in tissues, S/teve blowing his nose in E/ddie's bandana, fever, coughing, caretaking, mess, spray, descriptions of explicit fetish fantasies, mentions of potential contagion, R/obin is a very good sport about S/teve being terrible at covering his sneezes

CW: internalised homophobia, S/teve is insecure about his fetish

NSFW - fic is about a platonic M/F relationship but includes separate NSFW M/M content - minors DNI!

“HH-H!! HAHHRISHHHHOOOHhh! Fuck…”

Steve snuffled miserably into the soggy tissue he’d managed to catch his most recent explosion in. It looked about as sturdy as he currently felt – which was to say, not at all. He reached out from under the protective cover of his jacket, functioning as a makeshift blanket as he lay on the breakroom couch, and plucked another 3 tissues from the quickly diminishing box. Taking in a deep breath, he blew his nose with as much force as he could muster, desperate to get some relief from the built-up congestion. All attempts of keeping noise to a minimum had dwindled hours ago, along with whatever remained of his energy. He tried not to think about the customers browsing the shelves of the establishment for movies, how they could probably hear every crackling shift of mucus that he forced out into the tissues, the embarrassingly loud honk that rounded off his efforts.

It felt as though he’d spent more time in the first half of his shift stifling the never-ending barrage of sneezes between his pinching fingers than actually working. It hadn’t done anything for his headache, squeezing his temples as if in a vice – and it certainly hadn’t helped with the blockage in his sinuses. Once Robin had shown up that afternoon, she had all but forced him to go and lie down in the back, pulling him by the arm even as he smothered another miserable sneeze against his palm.

“Steve, please. If not for your own sake, do this for me. I don’t want to be responsible for letting you die on shift from some kind of freak head explosion – especially not in front of the customers. Who do you think’ll be the one scrubbing your brains off the walls?”

“Jesus, Robin. It’s not th’haahht….that ba’hhHDD!!”

Out of pure habit at that point, Steve had pinched his quivering nostrils closed, that final touch of his fingers to the sensitive skin pushing him over the edge.

“HAHH’GXKKT’SCHHH!!”

It was quieter than his unsuppressed sneezes, nobody could fight him on that. But it’d still been loud, the desperate attempt at wrangling it into submission making it angrier, more violent to his ears – and evidently, Robin’s. She’d hissed in sympathy as he let go of his nose, the wrinkle of concern between her furrowed brows growing deeper as his sinuses audibly squeaked with each post-sneeze snuffle.

“You shouldn’t do that.” She’d worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “You’ll seriously hurt yourself – blow out an eardrum or something. Steve – don’t.” She finished firmly, glaring as he had started to lift his hand up to his nose in preparation for an encore.

“But ih-hih-! It’s so loud – I –“

“It’s okay, dingus. There’s, like, one guy here right now. In the adult movie section. At 4:30pm.”

It was certainly a reassuring statement, but it wasn’t really as if Steve would have been able to hold back in the first place. The couch shook with the force of the sneeze that rocked through him – the first he had actually let out unhindered since the tickle had taken hold hours earlier. He’d practically roared with the effort of it, drenching his palms as he caught it between his steepled hands.

“HAHHH’RESSSSSHHHHIEWWWW!!!”

He’d noticed Robin jump, heard her mutter a soft “oh my god” as her soul no doubt left her body. Glancing up apologetically, he had blinked through bleary eyes at her, holding his soiled hands in place. He hoped she didn’t notice the slight shiver that ran down his spine, the goosebumps breaking out over his arms. After holding back for so long, it had felt so good to purge the tickle completely, like spreading a soothing balm over the persistent, niggling itch.

“Sorry.” He had just about resisted the urge to sniffle again, knowing it would sound gnarly.

“That’s ok – hey, look at that, I don’t need that midday coffee anymore. Totally awake!” She smiled like a dork and he couldn’t help grinning behind the protective cover of his hands.

“I’m gonna walk to the store on my lunch break and get you some things. Are you allergic to any medicines? Does your head hurt? Would you say you’re coming down with a cough – and is it a chesty kind of deal, or is it more tickly? Do you –“

“Robi’d.” Steve had cut her off, both of them visibly wincing as he struggled to pronounce her name. As if he didn’t feel disgusting enough, he could feel his nostrils twitching and flaring, another colossal sneeze working its way up and out of his sinuses just moments later.

“HAHHH’GITTSSCHHH’IEWWW!! Oh M’by god….”

Messy. So, so messy. As he’d snuffled and searched frantically for something to save him, Robin had slid a small pack of tissues across the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Guess I’ll take my break now. Try and hold out with these. Do not move. I’ll be back in 20 minutes, tops!”

With that, she’d spun on her heels and barrelled out of the door, leaving him to sit and stare at the tissues, holding his sticky hands tightly to his face as he tried to formulate the best plan of action. Before he’d even started to reach for them, Robin had stuck her head round the breakroom door one last time.

“Oh, and before I forget – Bless you!”

~~~~~~

‘Do not move’, she’d said. Steve had initially intended to clean himself up and ignore her entirely, getting back to organising the latest releases on the shelves and continuing as before. That had been his intention, but after the laborious and disgusting task of cleaning up his hands and face with tissues so flimsy they stuck to his skin almost instantly, and the blood rush that hit him so hard the moment he stood up he had swooned with it – not moving sounded like a great idea, actually. And so he hadn’t, for hours now.

He tossed the latest bundle of soaked tissues in the general direction of the trash can, using another few to dab gingerly under his damp, sensitive nostrils. Robin had been sure to pick him up some Kleenex Mansize on her trip to the pharmacy, making Steve blush when she’d mentioned they were the next best thing to getting him a tablecloth to use. He knew she’d just been joking but for various…reasons, his regrettably huge – and often, extremely messy – sneezes were a topic he didn’t like to draw attention to. They did a good enough job of doing that themself, turning more than a few heads each time they ripped through his sinuses. She’d noticed his change in demeanour immediately, because of course she had, and her voice had softened as she made some comment or other about ‘you know what they say about big sneezes’. He’d had to laugh at that – she had an amazing ability to disarm and placate him when all he wanted was to defend.

It was hard not to be defensive when it came to the topic of sneezing. He wondered if he’d ever be brave enough to explain why to Robin. He’d disclosed more to her than he had to any other person – even Nancy. And for what it was worth, that seemed to be the case for Robin, too. She may not have ended up his girlfriend, but this was better. She was his best friend, his person. He considered it a blessing that she actually couldn’t like him in that way – he was a fuck up, romantically. It only seemed to push people away when he got emotionally involved – another thing he had confessed to her one night when they were cuddled up in her bedroom, the late hour and the collective exhaustion between the pair of them elevating their meaningless rambling into much deeper, scarier territory.

She’d told him at the time that he wasn’t a fuck up, that he was fucking great and that he just had to believe her. That he had to slow down and stop treating dating like it was some kind of doomsday race, and that he would definitely find the girl for him. He’d been surprised that, although the comment was reassuring in its own way, something felt a little…off. Probably because an image of Eddie flashed across his mind in that moment, and the gravity of it was too much for him to handle. He’d tried his best to ignore it, but it had only flourished in the following weeks to the point he was thinking about the metalhead near constantly. It terrified him, truth be told. And that fear made him feel like a hypocrite above all else. How could he accept Robin with such ease but the thought of himself liking men almost had him breaking out in a cold sweat?

It really didn’t help that Eddie had the most extensive and pervasive allergies of anyone Steve had ever known. He’d figured the fits he’d been privy to at the boat house had been circumstantial. It had been dusty enough that he’d sneezed a couple of times himself, and he’d been there sparingly – for Eddie, it had been days of exposure. Of course he’d had a rough time. But, as time went on, Steve realised it wasn’t just dust. It was dust, and mould, and pollen, and certain perfumes, and feathers – the list that Steve wouldn’t admit to mentally keeping continued to grow as the days became weeks became the last couple of months. He would be engrossed in conversation, completely captivated by whatever Eddie was saying and happily so, when the older man’s expression would crumple and Steve had to pretend to be a normal person as he witnessed the most erotic allergic reactions of his life unfold mere feet away from him.

He felt he did a pretty good job, thank you very much. He even remembered to bless Eddie about half of the time, and enjoyed the bashful smile he got in response when he did. He was pretty sure he didn’t turn totally bright red each time – something he considered a huge achievement. Crossing his legs was a surefire way of concealing any visible…excitement. He was nailing it. Dealing with Eddie’s sneezes was one thing - as much as he had tried to hold back around the older man, he’d slipped up a few times and sneezed his embarrassing, splashy, intrusive sneezes in front of him. Luckily, the metalhead didn’t seem entirely repulsed – if anything, Steve noticed a twinkle in his expressive eyes, noticed a certain shift in his demeanour and body language as he focused in on him. It made him far too happy to be blessed by Eddie, but it simultaneously made him want the ground to open up and swallow him whole. This growing attraction to the older man, his – interest, going into overdrive; all of it was just too much to deal with – so he…didn’t. Basically.

And he didn’t need to be thinking about all this right now – not when his head was pounding and his eyes and nose were leaking like a faucet. And this fucking tickle…

Sitting up now, he reached frantically for another handful of tissues, holding them at the ready in an upraised hand as he panted and gasped, willing the maddening tickle to culminate and grant him some temporary reprieve. He could feel his nostrils flaring, stretching to capacity as the itch burrowed and crawled through his sinuses, leaving them damp and threatening to overflow.

“Come on…” he grumbled aloud after a particularly desperate gasp scissored out of him, causing tears of irritation to bead at the corners of his eyes but leaving him notably bereft of sneezes.

He reached up with a finger of the hand not cradling the tissues expectantly in front of him and nudged the tip of his nose from side to side. More often than not, a little manual stimulation could help a particularly stubborn sneeze along, at least if he was ticklish enough. It seemed to do its job, a few little wiggles igniting the tickle and leaving him bristling with the force of the subsequent inhale.

“HHDTT-!! HUUURRRSHHHHH’OOHhh!! HARRRUSHHHH’IEWWW!! TISSSCHHH’IEWW!! HAGT’TSCHHHHhhhh!!”

The tissues were predictably destroyed in the onslaught, damp and torn against his palm. He sat in place for a moment, leaning heavily to one side on the arm he’d frantically propped up against the couch to steady himself. That fit had been intense, each sneeze seeming to begin at his toes and rip through his entire body, muscles seizing and skin tingling. He felt pretty pathetic, shaking like a leaf and panting in the aftermath, extremely grateful that although everyone in downtown Hawkins could probably hear the excruciatingly fast progression of his illness, they couldn’t see him. He swiped at his dripping nostrils with what was left of the tissues before tossing them, plucking even more to tend to his leaking eyes, his lips dampened with heavy spray. One wary glance at the box revealed that it was almost empty. With a defeated sigh, he allowed himself to fall back against the couch, one arm slung over his closed eyes.

He hated being sick. The lack of control, the way it distracted him from focusing his energy on others, demanding he focus on himself, his weakened body that was no longer cooperating with him. The humiliation of it – the way he was such a gross, drippy mess. He felt like a germ factory, and he wasn’t wrong.

The worst part of it all, even above feeling shitty and gross and useless – was that he was inevitably going to get Robin sick. Her parents were out of town for the week, some old hippy reunion somewhere or other. Robin was fine with the peace and having the house to herself, he knew that – but they’d both decided that since he drove her to and from school and work most days and they hung out most days too, it would make sense that she just stay with him for the week.

It was fun, like they were real roommates – or maybe siblings? Both of them were Only Children so it wasn’t like they had any means of comparison, but the closeness and easiness of their bond was undeniable to themselves and everyone around them. Every day, they’d wake up, eat breakfast together, Steve would drop Robin off and they'd go about their respective school or work, reconvene for their shared evening shifts, eat dinner together, sometimes hang out with each other and sometimes not. They’d planned to veg out tonight, watch some dumb movies and relax. It was great hanging out with everyone, especially now that Eddie had been welcomed into the fold, but he needed his Robin time. Working together most of the week was great, for sure, but it was still work.

That had been the plan, but now he was wondering if he should muster up the rest of his strength at the end of the day to drop her off at her house and drive himself back home alone, sequestering himself away until this plague-like sickness fucked off for good. He knew already she wouldn’t allow it, but he was going to proffer the suggestion anyway.

He glanced at the crooked clock on the wall – just about two hours ‘til closing. Keith and the other coworker Steve had yet to meet would be working tomorrow, and he had the weekend off, for which he could not have imagined he would ever feel so grateful. Maybe he could sneeze and cough and wheeze this cold out of his system in a day if he willed it so. He felt awful that Robin had been working the front alone, especially as business ramped up to a maximum on Friday evenings. Just two more hours.

~~~~~

“…eve. Hey, Steve. Wakey wakey. Steeeve.”

It took Steve a moment to realise who he was, let alone where he was and the fact that Robin was gently shaking him awake. He groaned as his head started to throb almost immediately, as if the headache had been waiting to strike the second he woke up. His eyes opened slowly, irritated and dry, and scanned their way upwards to take in the nervous expression on Robin’s face. She was smiling, sure, but she was terrible at masking her concern. It worried him more than a little that she was even trying to hide the anxiety she would usually wear so plainly.

“…Robin?” He managed to rasp out. They both winced at the ragged sound of it.

“Jeez, Dingus. You sound like you swallowed a pile of broken glass.” Robin was still smiling, but it didn’t reach her eyes. If anything, they looked almost glossy enough that tears were imminent. Steve absolutely couldn’t stand that – the immediate need to reassure her galvanised him, the final push he needed to drag himself upwards and into a seated position. His head throbbed, and he gritted his teeth against the pain. He sensed Robin hovering, even with his eyes closed could visualise her hesitant hand outstretched toward him.

“I’m okay,” He cleared his throat somewhat productively, and tried again. “I’m okay, Robin.” Slightly better.

She flashed him another sad smile.

“You’re really not, Steve. But you don’t need to be.”

He didn’t really have a response to that – he just nodded, kneading at his temple a couple of times, willing the pain to recede. Sitting up had only made the throbbing worse, and on top of that the shifting of mucus in his sinuses had brought that ever-lingering tickle back to the surface. And god, did it tickle…

“I’ve gotten everything sorted out front. It’s a teeny tiny bit early, but I figure we’re alright to head out now. Do you – oh.”

Robin paused, taking in Steve’s tortured expression and the way his chest jumped with increasingly violent inhales. He noticed her noticing, started to blush as he lifted a hand frantically to cover his twisting facial features. He scrambled madly for the tissue box, but he wasn’t going to make it, he was going to sneeze, and-

He felt Robin press a handful of fresh tissues into his reaching palm, but he was too slow. The first sneeze burst out into his waiting palm, drenching it with spray and an unfortunate build-up of mess.

“RRRRISCCHHHHHH’IEWWWW!!”

He had just enough time to raise the tissues in his other hand to his face for the volley that followed, awkwardly cradling his soiled hand in a partial fist to shield the damage from Robin.

“HAHHHDTT’SHIEWWWWW!! HH’RRRUSHHHH’OOHH!! RRRRRSHHHH’UHHH!!”

He shuddered, the force of the powerful sneezing sapping him of almost all of his remaining energy. He gingerly wiped at his nose and tossed the sodden wad towards the trash can, composed enough now to reach for more clean tissues on his own and tend to his hands.

He glanced up and noticed Robin standing awkwardly with her arms wrapped around her lanky frame, half-watching and half-floundering, not sure where to look and chewing her bottom lip hard enough that it looked painful.

“Ugh, sorry you had to see that, Robs. I really am okay, I promise. Definitely sick. But okay.” He tossed the second wad of tissues in the trash and stood up tentatively, wobbling a little but managing not to fall on his ass. Robin had reached out then, steadied him with a soft hand to the back of his tricep. She gasped, eyes darting up to his face.

“Steve, you’re boiling hot! Like, volcanic explosion, magma-level hot!”

He sighed, knowing there was no way his verbal reassurances would get through to her at this point. He could understand how she was feeling – everyone called him a mother hen, and he knew it was true. Worrying about other people was an immutable and extremely prominent part of his personality. He’d be fussing over her just as much if he were in her shoes – would offer to carry her to the car if she was this shaky on her feet, even knowing he’d probably get an ‘Ew, gross’ and stalwart refusal to let him do so.

“’S just a mild fever. I run hot anyway, you know that.” He rounded off this blasé statement with an obnoxiously noisy sniffle.

She wrinkled her nose at him.

“Can you drive like this?” She asked, voice heavy with concern as she helped him gather up his things.

“Absolutely. Driven under much worse conditions, remember?” He was referring to driving uphill in the dark, borderline concussed, and the both of them knew it.

“That was different – desperate times, fighting an evil sludge monster. The only evil sludge monster here right now is you, Harrington.”

He snuffled again, the sound of it thick and wet, causing her to wince. Her poorly veiled disgust wasn’t making him feel much better, but he also couldn’t hold it against her. He sounded gross.

“It was different – like I said, much worse conditions. I have a cold, Robin. I’m not on my death bed or anything.” He shouldered his backpack, clearing his throat and managing to hold back what he was sure would be an obnoxiously prolonged coughing fit. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

She shrugged and followed him as he strode – or attempted to stride – out into the store. She was hovering, making sure he wouldn’t fall – it was sweet but still irritating. By the time they reached the car, she was close enough that when he spun round suddenly she nearly fell backwards in shock. He reached out to grab and steady her by the forearm, feeling guilty immediately that he’d touched her with a germy hand.

“Listen, Robin – I really don’t want you to catch this. Will you let me drive you home? I can bring you your stuff back in a couple of days.”

“Steve,” she started, her tone soft but firm. “I’m not leaving you alone right now. I don’t care if I get sick – you need someone to help you.”

“I don’t – “

“Don’t bother trying to talk me out of it. You’d just hide yourself away and get sicker and sicker, feeling sorry for yourself and ignoring anybody who reached out to you. You sound awful, Steve, I’m serious. I’m staying with you. Tough shit.”

He blinked at her. He’d expected her to refuse, but not the additional psychoanalytical beat down.

“Um. Wow, okay, sure. It’s your funeral if you catch it.” He shrugged, opening the car door.

“Thought you weren’t on your death bed.” She quipped back, settling into the passenger seat.

“Yeah, well.”

~~~~~~

After all the easy-going confidence with which he’d reassured Robin he was totally fine to drive, within minutes he realised that whilst he technically could, it would not be fun. If anything, he’d felt better with the concussion. He had a permanent bundle of tissues in his right hand, even as he clutched the wheel, ready to stifle sneeze after sneeze as Robin fretted beside him and held the wheel steady enough that they wouldn’t go veering dangerously off-road. They were a week into May,  the weather not even remotely cold outside, but the fever had left him chilled and shivering enough that he’d turned the heating up anyway, apologising to Robin. It wasn’t helping, however, and all the shift in temperature seemed to do was tickle his sensitive nose even more.

It was as Steve pulled to a stop at a red light that the tickle blossomed so suddenly and so intensely that he couldn’t even think to let go of the wheel and ready himself to sneeze into his tissues. His chest jumped with a wrenching gasp, nostrils flaring wide and jaw snapping open in an instant. It tickled so, so much; even as it tipped his head back and squeezed his eyes closed, he couldn’t deny that the sensation was immensely pleasurable, moreso knowing that the resultant sneeze was going to be an absolute monster. He craved that release after all those hastily suppressed sneezes, pinching his reddened nostrils shut against the force of them.

Focusing all of his energy on the sneeze and losing himself entirely, he hitched once, twice, and then –

“HAHHHDDT’TIISSSCCHHHHH’IEWWWW!!!”

It tore through him, sending him tumbling forward in his chair. As he’d expected, it felt fucking incredible – he leaned into it, savoured that tingling relief that spread through his limbs as his lungs pushed out every last bit of air through his pursed lips.

“Oh, god, Steve!”

Robin’s yelp pulled him back to the present - the embarrassing, unfortunate present in which he had just sprayed the sneeze to end all sneezes all over the steering wheel, dashboard, his own arms and hands, and practically everything else within a 4 foot radius as the massive cloud of aerosol swirled in the air around him. He felt his entire face burning – he meant to apologise, he really did, but the tickle returned with a vengeance and it was just too strong.

“TTTISSSSHHHHH’IIEWWWW!! HH’RISSSSSHH’OOohh!!”

He sneezed twice more in much the same fashion, helpless to control it. He rocked with them, eyes streaming in irritation, feeling his muscles strain with the effort and the way it almost lifted him from his seat.

“Steve!! Oh my god, that went everywhere!” He heard Robin complain, saw how out of the corner of his eye she rolled down her window frantically.

“Fuck, I’m –“ He started before a loud honking behind them cut him off. The light had turned green and the car behind them was impatiently telling them to haul ass – how embarrassing. He stepped on the gas, blushing to his ears and hoping that the other driver hadn’t been witness to that repulsive display.

He sniffled, turning a corner and, thankfully, onto a road with no other drivers. He took the chance to peer down sheepishly at the damage he’d caused. His steering wheel was almost dripping; the dashboard glittering with visible droplets of his spray; he could even see a shimmer of dampness on the back of his hands and forearms.

“Robin,” he started, scrambling with one hand for some clean tissues and scrubbing at every surface he could reach. “I am so, so sorry. That was disgusting. Did I – did I get you?”

He turned to her, plucking a handful of tissues from the box and thrusting them at her. He realised with some dismay as she accepted them that said box was now completely empty.

“I don’t know what happened – I just couldn’t control them. God.” He scrunched his eyes shut before remembering he was in the middle of driving.

“Ugh, Dingus. It’s okay. I mean, it’s pretty gross but I’ve had, like, gooey monster tentacles all over me. I can handle your mucus.”

“Fuck.” It didn’t help – he was still mortified. Robin was such a good sport – he imagined most people would have punched him square in the jaw for that performance.

“Steve, hey. You’re really sick, it’s okay.” She patted him on the arm conciliatorily.

“God. I guess I am. That shit felt like it bounced my brain off my skull.” Normally he wouldn’t talk about his sneezes, especially not how they made him feel, but he was truly shaken.

“Think you can hold it together ‘til we get to your place?” She asked, resting her hand on his arm now. The gentle touch felt reassuring.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll b-be-! Hh’HUH!”

“Gonna sneeze again?”

Regrettably so, he really was. Panicking, he started to gasp into another buildup.

“I dohh-h’ont-!! I don’t h’hahh!! Hahhve any-! Any Tih’hh-! TTTTISHHHHIEWWWW!!” He exploded, this time jerking to his left to avoid spraying Robin and instead baptising the window beside him. The car lurched with him – Robin squeaked and grabbed for the steering wheel, pulling it towards herself to steady them back onto the road.

“Sorry, sorry, fuck!” Steve snuffled heavily. Mess was now dripping in twin streams over his upper lip, making him feel more disgusting than ever.

“No tissues?” Robin said, letting go of the wheel and wriggling in her seat, looking all around her for a spare. She came up empty, as Steve knew she would.

“Hold on,” She started, leaning back and angling herself between their seats as she reached into the back. “Might be something back here.”

Steve started to sniffle again but held himself back, anxious it would only trigger another spraying sneeze – one that would no doubt splatter the front window with its productiveness.

“I really don’t think – “

“Bingo!” Robin announced, audibly proud of herself. When Steve turned his head to look at the item she proffered towards him, his blush returned in earnest. Eddie’s bandana-slash-handkerchief. He must have left it there the last time he’d ridden with Steve. Come to think of it, when he’d driven Dustin, Lucas and Eddie to a campaign at the Wheeler house, the metalhead had been pretty…sensitive. He’d reassured them that it was just allergies, nothing to worry about. And it really hadn’t been all that much, but even a sniffle from Eddie was enough to send all the blood in Steve’s body rushing straight to fill his cock.

Not only had Eddie sneezed, a series of sweet little stifles that had Steve’s heart beating at 100mph, he’d sniffled and rubbed at his pinkened nostrils with the very bandana Robin was now pressing into the palm of a hand she had pried free from his grip on the steering wheel. He must have forgotten about it and left it there, sitting on the floor of Steve’s car, completely unaware of how intensely erotic said item was to the former jock. Had he known it was there, would he have had the courage to return it to Eddie himself? It seemed to burn in his palm. Eddie’s adorable, desperate sneezes had been sprayed and muffled into this fabric. It was too much – on top of the fever, this deviant spiral of thought left him feeling as though his brain was seconds away from leaking out his ears.

“…Steve?” Robin asked. He jumped, eyes flickering upwards from their fixed stare on the bandana to her confused expression, then swivelling straight back to the road before he really did make them crash.

“Yeah. Uhh. It’s Eddie’s.” He said, as if that meant anything at all to Robin. He heard her laugh.

“Uh, yeah, Steve, I figured. Unless black and skulls are your thing now.” She was teasing him, and not just about his fashion choices. He wasn’t sure how, but he sensed that she was, and it went deeper than his stupidly obvious statement.

“So…are you gonna use it?” She asked a moment later, and Steve remembered the entire reason she’d given it to him in the first place. He’d been focusing so hard on keeping the blood in his head and not in his cock that he was almost functioning on autopilot. He was suddenly very aware that the mess running down his face was moments away from ending up in his mouth.

“Yeah, fuck, sorry.” Desperate to avoid her scrutinous gaze, he hurriedly brought the fabric to his face and blew into it, hard. Arousal blossomed anew, thinking about Eddie doing the same – about every sneeze the fabric had been graced with now touching his face. It was driving him crazy. He wished he was alone in this moment – if he was, he’d pull off the road, haphazardly park, then jerk himself hard and fast until he was coming into the bandana, that sexy little piece of fabric that almost functioned like an indirect kiss.

Miraculously, he was only a little hard – enough that Robin wouldn’t notice, especially since dicks were a big enough source of amused repulsion for her that she was unlikely to be looking. He imagined the illness was helping to keep him soft; he really did feel shitty, increasingly shittier with every passing minute. He rounded off with one final, honking blow before sighing deeply – a weary, exhausted exhalation of defeat. Robin rubbed his arm reassuringly.

“Almost home.”

~~~~~~

In the twenty minutes that had passed since they’d walked through Steve’s front door, he had: sneezed at least 10 times; almost brained himself on the corner of his dresser as he attempted to wriggle out of his (admittedly pretty tight) jeans; coughed hard and long enough to leave his throat burning; and almost fallen down the stairs dressed in the comfortable loungewear Robin had insisted he put on.

In short, he wasn’t doing so hot. He hoped that this fast progression from awful to even worse would end up in his favour, aligning with the hope from earlier that he could burn through this sickness over the next couple of days, as if sprinting to the finish line. He really didn’t think he could handle feeling this terrible for much longer than that. It was as if every cell in his body was committing mutiny against him.

He lowered himself onto the living room couch on shaky legs and wrapped his arms around himself. He had no idea how he could be so hot but feel so cold. Like, okay, he understood the concept of a fever, but it still didn’t make the paradoxical sensation any easier to bear. He shivered miserably.

Robin bustled into the room a moment later, carrying a soft sherpa blanket in a scrambled heap, as if she’d yanked it from its neatly folded position in the main bedroom linen closet in a rush. Steve was certain this was absolutely the case.

“Heyy, buddy,” she started, still a little on edge but evidently happy to be done with that tumultuous car journey. “You should get under this blanket. You know what – lemme just…”

Initially thrusting the bundle of fabric at Steve, she seemed to change her mind and took it upon herself to wrap the blanket round him – even tucking it closer when it threatened to slip down his shoulders. Steve felt himself blushing a little and hoped that it wouldn’t be all too obvious on top of his fever-flushed complexion. He and Robin had cuddled together on occasion, sure – they’d held hands, too, discovering the contact felt reassuring and natural – but this level of intimacy and caretaking was something he’d never experienced – from anyone, really, but especially not from her. Her usual style was more sarcastic one-liners, name-calling and gentle shoves. To be fussed over by anyone was hard for him to accept, so it felt more than a little daunting at the hands of his best friend - purely because it felt so alien. One tentative glance at Robin confirmed that she must have been feeling pretty similarly awkward herself.

“Okay. I ordered us pizza – I know soup would probably be better, yeah, I realised that after I hung up the phone, shit – but anyway, that’s dinner. I’m gonna get you some water and Tylenol – maybe tea? Do you want tea?”

He couldn’t help but smile at how endearingly unnatural she was finding this. He knew if he was in her shoes she’d be wrapped up, propped up, fed and medicated 10 minutes ago. He’d still be brimming with anxious energy but that would be the natural result of the helplessness he’d feel that he couldn’t take away her discomfort on the spot. That she was trying, really, honestly trying, made his heart swell.

“Um, no tea, Robs. I don’t even know if we have any. Could you get me a cold compress for my head, maybe?”

Her eyes widened for a moment before they rolled back into her head dramatically, and she slapped a hand to her forehead.

“Uh, yes, of course I can do that – can’t believe I haven’t already. Sorry, Steve, just a minute – “ She was already halfway out the door by the time she finished.

“Robin, you don’t need to run – I’m okay!” He called out after her, regretting it almost immediately as his throat seized and he was thrown forward with a violent fit of coughing. He attempted to muffle it into one blanketed hand, shielding his mouth with the fabric. As if he didn’t feel disgusting enough already, he felt a tickle blossoming deep in his sinuses, so quickly that almost the moment he finished hacking he was gasping deeply in preparation for the oncoming explosion.

“Hh’Ohh goddDD’TTSSSHHHIEWWW!! HXXT’SHIEWWWW!! HAH’RRRRSHHHH’UU!! Oh…”

He shuddered and gingerly pulled his nose back from the now sodden fabric, clinging to the palm of his hand under the weight of the mess. Cursing, he scrambled to pull his other hand free of the blanket, snatching a handful of tissues from the box on the coffee table that he now regrettably wished he’d had half the mind to reach for sooner. Eddie’s bandana might have been a relief at first, but it was now so thoroughly sneezed and snorted into that it lay useless and dejected in Steve’s laundry hamper.

“Bless you, Dingus!” Robin called out from somewhere in the house.

He didn’t bother calling back, not wanting to trigger a repeat performance of that entirely disgusting display. At least the sneezes had felt halfway relieving – though very productive, the results of which he frantically scrubbed from the soggy patch of blanket. After he’d done all he could, he sighed and attempted to snuggle back into the couch cushions. ‘Attempt’ being the operative word, here – the Harrington household couches were much like everything else in the joint: carefully selected to signal a certain degree of cold and detached classiness, more like a showroom than a home. The Buckley household was much more inviting. Hell, even the couch at the Munson trailer was effortlessly comfortable, even with the creaky springs that prodded you as you moved.

He wondered what Eddie was doing now – planning for a campaign? Playing guitar? Some party, somewhere? He hadn’t spoken to him for a couple of days, come to think of it. He realised suddenly that he really wanted to talk to him. More than that, he just wanted to listen. Even with this persistent headache, he wanted to sit back just like this, eyes closed in surrender, and let Eddie ramble away about whatever he pleased. It didn’t really matter what was said as long as it was him saying it. These thoughts, though initially soothing and pleasant, very quickly became a source of gnawing emotional pain that Steve refused to address a moment longer. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, feeling embarrassed and pathetic.

“Hey, I got that compress – you wanna – oh, you’re already leaning back, good.” Robin was at his side again, gently sweeping back his sweaty bangs and resting the cool, damp towel on his forehead. He felt the relief of it instantly, humming softly and focusing in on the sensation until the troubling thoughts of Eddie started to fade.

“That feel good?” Robin asked softly, sitting down next to him.

“Mm. Yeah. Th’nks.” He muttered, reaching a hand out of his cocoon and squeezing her wrist in appreciation.

“You wanna stay like that for a while ‘til the pizza gets here?”

“Mm’hmm.”

“Cool. Can I put something on? Anything you want. I’ll keep the volume low.”

“I don’t mind, if you don’t mind me not really paying attention.”

Robin laughed.

“As if you pay attention to anything I suggest, anyway.”

“Hey!” He smiled despite himself. “You can’t say I don’t try.”

“Oh, I can, and I will.”

She laughed again as he weakly punched her arm.

“Just stay with me, please?” He asked, a little shocked by the naked sincerity of the request as it tumbled out of him.

“Of course, Steve. Where else would I go?”

~~~~~~

After they’d finished their pizza – Steve far less than he would have liked, the normally delicious cheese seeming extra congealed and greasy – Robin had put on some artsy film that Steve tried his best to follow but was sure he’d have had a hard time with on a regular day, let alone one where he was starting to feel like jello in the form of a human. They gradually cuddled closer together, interrupted only by Steve twisting himself away from Robin each and every time he felt a sneeze coming on. It had reached the point where she’d told him to cut it out and sit still.

“You’re gonna give yourself whiplash on top of your cold. Seriously, stop.”

“But I’ll – end up sneezing on you.”

She’d sighed in defeat.

“Then do that. I’m catching this anyway.”

His cheeks burned a little at that.

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t that be like, super gross?”

“As long as you use the blanket or tissues, it won’t be all bad.”

And Steve had used both the blanket and the tissues – for a little while, anyway. He soon had his head in her lap, propped up by a cushion she’d added for his comfort. He wasn’t facing her, at least, so every germ-filled blast was aimed squarely at the table in front of them. If she felt the spray settling on her thighs or knees, she said nothing. To his utter delight, she’d started to rhythmically card a hand through his hair, making him feel for all the world like a spoiled little lapdog. Her endearing clumsiness was nowhere to be found as she expertly dragged her nails across his scalp. He’d have been asleep long ago if it wasn’t for this…t-tickle-!

“HH!! ‘GGTSCHEWWWW!! HARRRUSHHHH!! Hh, HH-!”

The third and final sneeze seemed to elude him, teasing him fiercely enough that his bleary eyes were beading with tears. He was more than grateful that Robin couldn’t watch his face as it crumpled – the way his nostrils twitched, mouth dropping open as his tongue pressed against his bottom teeth in a silent prayer, begging for the tickle to crest.

At last he was granted some reprieve, and three choppy inhales later he was barrelling forward, sneezing violently over Robin’s knees.

“hHAAHHH’GCK’TCHIEWWWWwww!!!”

He felt her other hand reach out and steady him by the shoulder as his body threatened to roll off the couch with the sheer force of it.

“Jesus, Dingus, Bless you!!”

“Ugg. Tha’gk you…” He snuffled miserably. The sneeze had felt amazing but he still felt bad about repeatedly spraying his best friend with an endless torrent of germs.

A bundle of tissues was suddenly hovering before his eyes as Robin held them out over him. He took them gratefully, muttering a small ‘thanks’ before blowing as hard as he possibly could. It was gnarly – loud, thick and rounded off with a honk not unfamiliar to the trumpet warm-ups Robin had subjected him to as she practiced in the guest room last night.

“God, Steve. Talk about man flu.” She patted his shoulder good-naturedly.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He meant it, too.

“No, you’re good. Don’t even worry about it. Just try not to die on me, okay? You’re heavy.”

“Promise.”

The glorious head massage resumed, and finally, blessedly, Steve felt himself slipping into a heavy sleep.

~~~~~

Robin pulled Steve’s bedroom door shut with a gentle click – not that her efforts at silence would matter, given the heart-breakingly congested snores Steve was already emitting from under his duvet. She headed to the bathroom and started her nighttime routine. Looking at herself in the stupidly ornate mirror of Steve’s guestroom ensuite, she noticed she looked just as tired as she felt – maybe moreso. She knew it was too early to be catching Steve’s cold  – had to be, right? The incubation period was just too short. Realistically, she just looked worn down from the strain of an entire evening of worrying about Steve – who had, no doubt in her mind, possibly the worst cold on the face of the planet.

She finished washing her face, almost forgetting to rinse it properly as her mind wandered. Was he really that sick, or was he just one of those men for whom a tiny little bug brought them to their knees in one fell swoop? It was probably the latter – though he really did look, and sound, miserably unwell. The temperature emanating from his body as he’d rested in her lap had been scorching – she’d been sweltering in the combined warmth of the pleasant May evening and Steve’s furnace-like condition. Steve hadn’t noticed, at least; if he had, he’d been kind enough to ignore the massive pit stains that dampened her t-shirt.

She’d let him sleep for a while – 45 minutes, just until her movie ended and her legs had fallen asleep – then she’d woken him up with a gentle hand to the forehead. 10 minutes later, she’d successfully helped a groggy, snotty Steve up to his bedroom. That they’d nearly tripped heading upstairs as Steve buckled forward with several wrenching sneezes was just a minor inconvenience. Once he’d gotten into bed and she’d tucked the blanket up to his chin, she’d returned with the damp washcloth – using ice water this time, draping it over his burning forehead. He was shockingly pliant, incredibly obedient – the total lack of hyper-independence and stubbornness a sure sign of how poorly he was feeling.

After brushing her teeth she padded back downstairs, locating the living room landline. She had a feeling Steve would only feel worse tomorrow, and she’d underestimated how many meds and tissues he would need. She could probably bike out to the Drugstore herself, but something about Steve’s condition made her want to be in the house with him at all times. Call it trauma, separation anxiety, whatever – it was tough seeing him hurt and weak, and in their relatively short friendship it felt like he’d had decades worth of bad luck. A lifetime of it, probably. And besides, what if his dumb ass sneezed himself down the stairs and broke his neck when she was gone? No. It was too risky.

She dialed the familiar number and waited. The nearby clock indicated it was about 1:45 AM. The middle of the night for some, but not for who she had in mind.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Eddie?”

“Hey, Birdie! What’s got you calling little old me at this frightful hour?”

She smiled despite herself. His charm was undeniable - as cheesy as it often was, it was still disarming and soothing. She was glad to have had the fortune of getting to know him under more…relaxed circumstances following their initial meeting, where she’d been convinced she’d found the only other person more prone to floundering, nervous breakdowns than herself.

“Figured you’d be awake for at least another 3 hours. Can you talk for a minute?”

“Sure, shoot. I was just fucking with my guitar anyway.”

“Kinky.”

“Watch it, Buckley.”

She grinned, knowing he’d be doing just the same on the other end of the line.

“I actually need to ask you for a favour, if that���s okay?”

“Oh?” He sounded pointedly curious, like this was the last thing he’d expected her to say. “Are you okay? Need a ride, or something?”

“No, no, I’m fine. I’m at Steve’s – remember I’ve been staying here this week?”

“Oh, yeah. Speaking of Stevie boy, how is he? Haven’t heard from him in, like, three days?”

She smirked. The two of them thought they were so fucking subtle with this shit, and as much as she wanted to let them figure it out on their own, she couldn’t help but poke the proverbial bear every now and then.

“Three days?? My god, that must be like three months in Eddie time.”

“Fuck off!” He was laughing, at least.

“That’s just the thing though, actually. It’s Steve, he’s – “

“What’s wrong? Is he hurt??”

She was so glad he couldn’t see her face right now. He was painfully, painfully transparent and it was the funniest, sweetest thing.

“He’s fine, you geek – not in any immediate danger. He’s just sick. Got the worst case of man flu probably, like, ever.”

Eddie was silent long enough that Robin wondered if their call had been disconnected.

“Eddie? You there?”

“Oh – yeah, sorry, just spacing out a little, ha ha!”

The forced laugh was…strange. But she chose to ignore it – he was probably stoned, at any rate.

“So, since he’s sick, I was wondering if tomorrow you could possibly pick up some meds and stuff for him? I really don’t want to leave him alone like this. He sneezed so hard before he nearly threw both of us down the stairs. If I leave him unattended who knows how else he might sneeze himself to an early demise?”

She ended her ramble with a small laugh, hoping to amuse Eddie and bring some levity to the situation. Instead, she was greeted with that same awkward silence, though it expired a little faster than last time.

“Oh man, that sounds – yeah, that would totally suck. Poor guy.”

It wasn’t the raucous laughter she’d been expecting at all. Eddie sounded – could it really be? Embarrassed?

“Are you okay? You sound weird.” She asked.

“I’m-! I’m fine, Birdie. Just. Pretty high.”

She’d figured as much, but somehow, she didn’t quite buy it. Whatever. Eddie was great, but she still didn’t fully understand him and his often confoundingly strange mannerisms just yet.

“Anyway. You think you can do that for me? I’d majorly appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah – I can totally do that. What time should I – drop stuff off?”

“Honestly, before lunch? The rate at which Steve is going through tissues is worthy of scientific observation.”

Eddie offered a reedy laugh at that – she’d expected that attempt at humour to dive like before, been ready for another awkward little pause. She would have almost preferred that to this obviously forced attempt at normal laughter. It wasn’t as if Eddie didn’t have a sense of humour, or know how to laugh like a human being, so? Man, he must be really high.

“So…I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be there. I…probably won’t come inside. I mean, don’t want to disturb poor old Harrington, y’know?”

She blinked.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind?”

“Really, Robin, if I want to graduate in a month, I can’t get sick. I won’t face celebrating my 21st year still stuck in that fucking dump.”

It made sense, what he was saying. But again, she just didn’t buy that that was the sole reason for this extremely out of character avoidance of Steve.

“Sure. Well, I’ll see you, then.”

“See you tomorrow, Birdie. Sleep tight.”

She hung up on him, taking a second to stand there and letting the absurdity of his behaviour wash over her before she made her way back upstairs. She was far too tired to even attempt to analyse the inner machinations of Eddie fucking Munson right now – tired enough that even Steve’s woeful snoring couldn’t stop her from passing out the second her head hit the pillow.

[necroromantics]

🖤 — The Eclipse; TalBin

like a lover, or partner in crime. or something of mine.

AN: Its my 4yr anniversary with my absolutely wonderful girlfriend ( @clockeyedtoy ), dedicating this one to her :3 She's the most beautiful, smart, and talented girl I have ever met and she's such a genuine loving soul I'm forever lucky to have her in my life. My best friend 4eva and my partner in crime (and errands) I love you to the moon and back my timebomb

- tobin first met tali junior year of high school. he was in the office for talking back to a teacher when she stormed in and sat angrily in the chair beside him.

- he noticed the way she eyed the clock, as if time was against her. and how she laid back as if she didn't care.

- when she caught him staring, she furrowed her brow at him and stared back. the two were both stubborn to a fault, neither of them looked away.

- to both of their dismay, that year they discovered they shared an english class. last period, seated next to each other. when tobin sat down in his chair, he noticed the girl staring daggers into him.

- she rested her chin in the palm of her hand, and gave him a terrible fake smile, the type she’d put on during picture day. it looked almost scary, like something you’d see before she cracked open your rib cage and devoured your beating, bloody heart. fangless, but she looked like she should’ve had fangs. it would’ve completed her dead girl look, he thought.

- "do you got a staring problem?"

- "you look like a dead dog id find on the side of the road."

- they got along like politicians. it had gotten especially worse when tobin had bugged tali enough to make her agree to tutor him in english for free cigarettes and joints.

- she knew he was stupid, dumber than a dog, but when he came over for their first session, sitting at her dinner table in her tiny mobile home, she was almost surprised at how the boy could barely read grade level literature.

- but tobin stayed true to his word, and he paid his half in full. they'd sit out on her front porch step late at night after arguing over tali's hostile teaching methods, and tobins inability to read the word "eradication", and share a cigarette together.

- the two insisted they hated each other. they couldn't stand each other's stubbornness and arrogance. but tobin would approach tali in the hallways before class, and crack a bad joke, and she'd laugh and roll her eyes.

- and tali wouldnt listen to all the things people said about that boy. to her luck, he didnt listen to anything they said about her either.

- tobin was always warm, the girl thought that he closely resembled the sun. she hated it. tali found sunny days annoying. too hot, humid, made it hard to breathe when the sun was out. it hurt to look up at the sky, and it hurt her skin when the light touched her.

- tali, on the otherhand, was always cold. tobin thought that she closely resembled the moon. he always thought it was just some floating rock in the sky, nothing special, or worth consideration. but some nights when he's out for a cigarette alone, he pulls a second one out of his pack by habit, ready to hand it to the girl, only to realize he's left with nothing but the moon shining down on him.

- when they started holding each others hands, they found ways to balance their temperatures. tali would cool tobin down, and tobin would warm tali up. she would calm his energy, he would get her out of her shell.

- he followed that girl around like a stray dog. he annoyed the hell out of her, she hated him, she insisted she hated him. she loved him more than anything. it was them against the world.

- it wasn't any surprise that tobin was the first person tali marks called when she accidentally killed her own brother one drunken night, after another physical altercation with him.

- and it wasn't any surprise that tobin followed suit and blew his fathers brains out with a shotgun, because he had gotten his ass beat earlier that day for talking back again.

- and it wasn't any surprise when tali stole her fathers busted up red pickup truck and the two ran down south to alabama to escape what they had done. they did it together, and they held each others hands the entire way down.

- like lovers, and partners in crime.

[victoria-daydreams]

The Hare and The Tower

Chapter Eleven: Bundles of Joy

AN: The way I wrote this chapter, I hope its not OOC for Otto, but given the nature of the chapter I can't imagine anyone not reacting like this. Saddle up y'all, we're getting angsty. Also, important announcement, after this chapter I will be taking a brief hiatus. Don't panic, I just want take some time and work on my own original story and also start getting the second act of this fic written/revise previous chapters.

Trigger Warnings: age gap, complications from labor

Word Count: 2.9k

Taglist: @dogmatic255 @sidechrisporn @amethystwonders11 @ladysindar @sweetwanderlust05 @newandykes @helloimlateforeverything @loveofvernonslife @stitchattacks @dariequeen @kishie8 @girlonfireice @snowymarvel1205 @greenlightower @harrypotteranna23-blog

If you want to be added to the taglist just leave a comment.

Summary: The joys of new motherhood can all change within a blink of the eye.

Chapter Twelve: If I Die Young

116 AC, Westeros

Two days had passed since the joyous birth of the twins, but Jesmyn still remained weak from her labors. It was during this time when the coughing started. At first, there was nothing particularly alarming about it, a few coughs here and there. However, this sentiment swiftly evolved the instance her coughing fits became more and more frequent, making her body tremble with the force of them. Sometimes it left her gasping for breath between each uncontrollable cough. Jesmyn knew something awry, but like her labors, she believed this affliction would soon pass too.

Propped up by pillows and wrapped in fresh linen, Jesmyn a soft smile graced her lips at the sight around her bedchamber. Otto, along with her family had came to see her and children. She sat forward looking at the son she had borne. Tobin was small, but strong as he moved his tiny limbs in his gown. She kissed the babe’s soft head and breathed in his calming newborn scent as she held him.

"Tobin, my handsome boy," Jesmyn said, looking at the dark haired child who was watching all with his quick eyes.

“Might I please hold my nephew?" Celesse asked, holding her arms out.

"Of course sister, but I must ask of you to not pass on your troublesome tendencies," Jesmyn quipped, making Celesse laugh as she took the boy.

"I will try Lady Hightower, but some things are quite contagious," she tickled the boy under the chin and smiled as the baby cooed.

Jesmyn grinned, her eyes drifting away from her family who were gushing over her children and towards the doorway. Otto and the maester were standing just outside of her door and spoke quietly amongst themselves. Otto’s eyes flitted over to Jesmyn’s causing her face to light up with a brighter smile. He mirrored her expression. Although the corners of his lips went up, the smile never reached his eyes. It looked somewhat forced, almost sad.

A sharp pain in her chest broke her musings. Harsh coughs erupted from Jesmyn, a violent coughing fit seizing her body. Otto was by her side in an instant.

"I-I'm fine," she croaked out, noticing how quickly silence swept across her bedchamber. The expressions of her family ranging from grim to alarmed. "I'm fine," she repeated breathlessly, looking directly at her husband, who watched her with concern.

A strong breeze swept through from the window of her room, causing a chill to run down her spine.

"Shut the window!" Otto ordered, his tone a bit more forceful than necessary while looking over his shoulder.

"Yes, Lord Hightower," a handmaiden responded quickly.

Leaning back onto her pillows, Jesmyn closed her eyes for a moment. With every day that passed it seemed like her coughing spells were draining her strength. Worse, everything ached; she didn't think it possible, but even the hair on her head. On top of that, she was always so cold, a window wouldn't have to be open for her skin to resemble gooseflesh. A large and warm palm gently pressed itself against her stomach. Jesmyn’s eyes fluttered back open and smiled weakly at Otto as he nodded to her.

"You must continue to rest, my dear," Otto said. "You are very tired,"

Jesmyn mirrored his actions, nodding slowly in agreement. "Yes, so very tired," she said, barely stifling a yawn.

As everyone filed out of the room, Lady Clarick moved over to her bedside and placed her hand on top of Jesmyn's.

"Rest, my sweet girl," she said, giving her hand a squeeze.

Once her mother left, Otto lingered in the doorway momentarily before finally withdrawing from her chambers. Shutting the door behind him, he sent one last worried stare over his shoulder just as the door quietly clicked shut.

~~~x~~~

She was half asleep when Jesmyn felt a tickling sensation softly run across her knuckles. A sigh escaped her, nestling her head deeper into the pillows and ignoring the feeling. Slowly, a weight sank onto the mattress next to her, causing her eyes to flutter open. Even through bleary vision she knew who the unmistakable figure was.

"Husband," Jesmyn greeted groggily, wiping the sleep from her eyes. Once she blinked her eyes clear, she noticed Otto was dressed for bed himself. "Gods," she exhaled, pushing herself up in bed. "Have I slumbered the whole day away?" she questioned.

"'Slumbering the day away' are the maester's orders," Otto reminded, with a small laugh. "You must regain your strength," he added.

"I know, but I cannot help from feeling guilty," Jesmyn replied, shaking her head. "I’ve been confined to this bed when I should be tending to Vanesha and Tobin," she complained, folding her arms across her chest.

Otto took a hold of Jesmyn's hand, pulling it away from her body with ease. A smile tugged on her lips at the act.

"Well, overexerting yourself will not help them nor yourself," he lectured. "Fret not, our children are under the watchful eyes of the wet nurses, making sure their every need is met," Otto finished, raising her hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to her fingers.

Jesmyn hummed, "Your words offer me comfort, Husband," she said, shifting slightly and lowering herself back onto the pillows. "Will you join me?" she asked, using her free hand to lightly pat her abdomen.

A hesitant look flashed across Otto's face, "I could hurt-"

"You won't," Jesmyn cut in. "Come, let us lay together like we once did," she beckoned, with a smile.

Wordlessly, he swung his legs onto to the mattress and his body fully stretched out on the bed. With care, Otto slowly sunk his head onto her stomach.

He nuzzled his face into her stomach, "Gods, have I missed this," he remarked, releasing a heavy sigh.

"How was your day?" Jesmyn asked, carding her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Politics as usual," Otto answered, with a slight groan. "King Viserys sends his best wishes" he mentioned.

"How very thoughtful of him, you must tell I said thank you when you see him again,"

"Of course," Otto said, lifting his head to look at her.

He pushed himself up, his stare full of warmth and affection never leaving her. A thin smile formed on her lips awaiting her husband's next move.

"What is it? Why do you stare me in such way?" she asked gently, almost whispering.

Otto's answer came in the form of him gently nuzzling his face against her cheek. Next, were his lips brushing across her face. His warm breath fanning against her skin as he caressed her nose with his own. Letting her eyes close, she let herself savor moment of tenderness.

"How long has it been," he began quietly. "Since we had a moment such as this?" he murmured. "Where it’s just been the two of us?" he wondered.

"Too long,"

Otto kissed her on her left cheek, it was a quick peck barely lasting a second. Another one followed. Then a third. And a fourth. He kissed her closed eyelids, the tip of her nose, the contour of her jaw. Her hand unconsciously reached up and gripped his night shirt. Jesmyn let out a short, soft pleased sigh as his lips ghosted the corner of her mouth. Before finally, his lips softly met hers.

Otto was deliberately slow, kissing her unhurriedly, savoring the taste of her lips. His languid movements drew the air out of her lungs, and when they parted to breathe, she unconsciously quivered for more.

Jesmyn's eyes reopened, "How long have you waited to do that?" she asked breathlessly.

"Too long," he said, echoing her words from earlier, something which caused Jesmyn to grin. He caressed her cheek. "I can’t help but notice you brushed your hair," he noted. "I’m surprised you didn’t tire yourself out, it occurs so easily as of late,"

She shook her head, "I didn’t do it, Reina did," Jesmyn corrected. "Right before supper," she added. "She said my hair resembled a bird's nest, she feared one of those pretty, exotic birds from the Summer Islands would make a home in it," Jesmyn recalled, grinning brightly.

"Crisis averted," he quipped.

Jesmyn went to laugh but her body tensed instead, her frame shivering beneath her blankets. She didn't think it possible, but even wearing a robe and being wrapped in two blankets wasn't nearly enough.

"Are you cold?" Otto questioned, shifting himself to lay on his side.

"Unbelievably so," she answered, chuckling a little.

"Let me tend to the fire," he offered, moving to get up.

Jesmyn's hand shot out, "No, just lie with me for a moment," she said softly. "It won't be long before I'm asleep again. I can feel it creeping on me," she added.

Otto nodded slowly, "Whatever you desire, love," he agreed. "Though, I have to wonder how you are so cold? You are neck deep in covers," he joked, placing his palm against her forehead and his lighthearted demeanor was wiped from his face. "Jesmyn, you’re warm, much too warm" he remarked, his expression growing serious.

"Am I not neck deep in covers, Otto?" she retorted playfully, with a small yawn.

"Yet, you shiver from coldness,"

"The human body can be such a fickle thing,"

Jesmyn's eyelids became heavier and heavier with each second that passed.

"I should wake the maester and—"

"You worry too much," she teased, her eyes now fully shut.

"And you worry too little,"

Without having to reopen her eyes, Jesmyn's hand rested itself against Otto’s cheek.

"I am well. Do not worry over me, my love," she reassured. “I’ll be better in the morning, I promise," she went on. "Just think, in a day or so, I shall be back in your loving embrace in our bed," she finished, smiling blissfully at the thought.

~~~x~~~

Third POV

The moment Jesmyn had fallen into a peaceful sleep, Otto immediately disregarded her behest of not calling the maester. It was one of her flaws, Jesmyn detested being fussed over, but in this instance Otto would see to her being watched every moment of the day. He knew what this was. With the very core of his very being, he knew and it terrified him. In front of his eyes, his precious wife seemed to be shrinking into herself.

In the dim light of candles and the fireplace offered them, Otto’s face was heavy with weariness, his eyes red with lack of sleep.

"It's childbed fever, my lord," the maester informed quietly.

"I know," Otto uttered, his voice just barely above a whisper. His grip tightened around the bedpost as if it alone kept him upright. "Leave us," he ordered.

"Lord Hightower—"

"Leave, us,"

The maester bowed to him and left the room. Otto swallowed deeply, feeling his agony beginning to bubble to the surface as he walked slowly to Jesmyn’s side. Dropping down on the bed, he took her cool hand in his. A small whimper escaped her and the sound almost nearly undid him. Otto lifted her hand up and brought it to his lips. Tears leaked from his eyes, but he could not stop them. He pressed his mouth firmly against her hand and remained in the same position for a few moments.

"Don't go. Please…don't go…" Otto whispered. "Oh Gods, it is not her time yet," he begged. "I beseech you to leave her here. Don't take her away from me. My son and daughter need their mother, and I need my wife,"

Otto kissed her hand again before place his hand on her forehead. A grimace formed on his face because of it. Jesmyn’s forehead had only grown hotter, her dark hair frizzled and damp from the fever sweat. Dropping his gaze to her chest, he counted each breath she took. Her breathing was far more labored than he have ever wished to hear it.

For the next two hours he kept a constant vigil at her side, not allowing anyone to remove him.

~~~x~~~

Darkness shrouded Jesmyn’s chambers, the windows kept firmly shut and blocking the few rays of sun which managed to filter through. Jesmyn laid motionless on her bed, from a distance, any sign of life within her was absent; not even the expected rise and fall of her chest. However, only by reaching out and holding a finger below her nose could one feel evidence of her continuing existence, in the soft, hitched puffs of her breath. Three days had came and went, but Jesmyn remained in her feverish state. Her once glowing face was now a lackluster shade, a cold sweat coating her forehead.

"Lady Hightower burns with a fever which refuses to break. It saps what little strength has. If this continues…"

The maester's words echoed in Otto's head as he lovingly dabbed a cold cloth against her face. Jesmyn's hair clung to her skin, it's brilliant sheen gone. In this last hour before the dusk, Otto continued to watch over her, wishing there was some way to ease her pain.

"Any signs she’s improving?" Alicent asked, entering into the room.

"It does not appear so," came his silent reply.

“She’s strong, Father. Jesmyn will persevere,” Alicent assured, resting her hand on her father’s shoulder.

Otto placed the cloth onto the bedside table and took Jesmyn’s cool hand in his. He kissed the knuckles and held the limp appendage close to his mouth.

“Perhaps, we should look in on my brother and sister,” Alicent suggested, her tone soft. “The gods are known to bless us when we least expect it,” she reminded, looking at her ailing friend.

“You’re right, dear daughter,” he agreed, a heavy sigh leaving him. Otto pressed his lips against Jesmyn’s knuckles once more. “My beautiful wife, soon we will show our son and daughter the magnificence of Oldtown,” he promised, his voice not above a murmur.

Standing up from the mattress, he reluctantly let Jesmyn’s hand slip from his and moved away from her bed. With every step Otto took, his mind began to be plagued with dark thoughts. What if this was the last time he saw her, alive. Stopping at the door, Otto looked over at Jesmyn’s form.

"Please Gods, in your mercy, let my wife live," he whispered.

~~~x~~~

The next day, it was Rhaenyra who sat with Jesmyn in her darkened bedchamber. One hand gripped the book in her lap she was reading aloud to Jesmyn, while the other gripped her friend’s cool hand.

"Congratulations on the birth of your children," Rhaenyra said, with a small smile.

"Thank you, Otto and I being blessed with twins, can you hardly believe it Rhaenyra?"

No matter how many years have passed, Rhaenyra still found it hard to swallow the idea of Jesmyn being married to him, Lord Hightower. Even more so, now that she had birthed two babies from him, further solidifying her ties as a member of House Hightower. At the moment though, Rhaenyra could only think about was how trivial her feud was with Jesmyn as she laid near lifeless in bed.

"Please wake up Jesmyn," Rhaenyra begged. "I wish to see my dear friend again. To have you behind me as we go dragon riding, watch you do that silly jig whenever you find the perfect spot for your next painting," she remarked, her fingers tightening around Jesmyn's. "I just got you back, I can’t lose you this quickly again. Not like this, not in the same manner as my mother,"

A heavy silence engulfed the room and Rhaenyra slowly released her hand around Jesmyn's, sniffling as she did.

"I-I should take my leave," she said, trying to get her breath under control. "We'll pick back up where we left, it's one of your favorite stories," she informed, swallowing thickly.

She closed the book with a quiet snap and rose from the chair, turning her back to the bed. That's when she heard it. A small whimper from behind her. Instantly, Rhaenyra spun around her eyes wide, and full of tears.

"Jesmyn?"

Her eyes cracked open slightly and Rhaenyra immediately took her hand.

"Rhae..Rhaenyra?" Jesmyn's voice was husky with illness, but it was there.

A smile beamed from her face, "Yes, yes it's me!" she said, through tears. "Someone, get the maester!" Rhaenyra demanded, a feeling of cautious relief spreading through her.

~~~x~~~

"The fever has broken,"

Otto's features lit up as a smile of sheer relief broke out on his face. He clasped a firm hand on the older man's and smiled for the first time in many days. His wife was finally on the mend. He walked further into the room where the midwife was helping Jemsyn sip tea.

"Jesmyn!" he rushed to her side, thankful to see his wife awake.

Pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, he immediately noticed she was cooler to the touch, still warmer than he preferred, but undeniably cooler than before. There was a time, when Otto would have simply pulled her into his arms and embraced her. But now, he feared such an act would only cause her more pain, so he contented himself with holding her hand. A tired smile appeared on her face, it was a pale reflection of usual her bright, infectious smile, but nonetheless Otto was overjoyed to see it.

"Otto," Jesmyn said softly, and he smiled at her before nuzzling her face.

"Sweet wife, you gave us quite a scare," Otto informed, his tone almost sounding scolding, but the undertone was sweet and gentle. "How are you, my love?"

"Exhausted," Jesmyn answered, chuckling a little. "But, alive,"

"Yes, you most certainly are, Gods be praised," he whispered.

Chapter Thirteen: Homecoming

[onlymurdersintheafterparty]

OMITB S4:E1 "Once Upon a Time in the West" Recap

The show is finally back! We no longer have to deal with Tobin, Loretta is back, and we've got a star studded cast of guest stars. I can't wait to see what's in store for this season. I'm bummed we only get one episode to kick off the season instead of two but I'm hopeful that means there's going to be a lot of twists, drama, and etc to get through in due time. Time to dive into the first episode.

SPOILERS AHEAD

Our favorite trio is recording their final episode of their newest season on Ben Glenroy when the power briefly goes out. To celebrate the end of yet another season they decide to go to Charles' place for a nightcap and Charles remembers Sazz never came back. On the way to the apartment Oliver mentions a cold case and I can't help but wonder if this is foreshadowing for next season 👀 Anyways they go into Charles' apartment and find the wine but there's no body!

Mabel being the clever woman she is spots blood spatter on the stove but I don't think she realizes yet what it is. Or does she and assumes it was a cooking accident? As the camera zooms out we realize that the trio has yet to notice the gunshot hole in the kitchen window. The fact that the body is missing is such an interesting concept because how do you solve a murder with no body or proof just the window and the stove if that?

And they don't even know it's a murder because whoever killed Sazz and haphazardly cleaned up the scene texted Charles the next day impersonating her and stating that she had to go be a double for Bakula in LA. So I think it's safe to assume the killer is one of the new characters in LA. Speaking of LA, a mysterious Bev Melon who has kept contacting the trio has invited them to come visit because Paramount wants to make a movie based off of their podcast. How convenient that "Sazz" is in LA and now the trio is as well. I'll be confused though if that whistling keeps happening to Charles even across the country.

When they get to LA and meet Bev, she's disrespectful as hell when describing their personalities. Oliver is the one she wants to strangle or hug, Charles is the un-fun uncle with a turtle face, and Mabel is a millennial with no job, no house, and basically a failure. Charles leaning across the table to give his folded note was hilarious, especially when Oliver tried to help him up only for the number to say 4 🤣 While it rolls off Charles and Oliver's backs, Mabel is offended and rightfully so. It's only one episode so far but Selena is doing a great job at showing this side of Mabel. You can really see her shrink into herself and that she's less confident than she was in the previous seasons.

Because Mabel doesn't yet want to sign away her life rights, there's a party that evening which will give her a chance to reconsider. But before then, you know the cast has to explore LA. Driven by Charles' old chauffeur in his limo, we see the trio standing in the sunroof while driving down a street lined with palm trees, In-N-Out Burger food and drinks in hand. Side note: I miss In In-N-Out Burger so bad. Their animal style fries are my favorite! But I digress.

Charles mentions that Sazz's apartment is located in one of the places on the tour so they make a detour to see if she's home. There is a stack of unopened mail and packages outside her door which is odd considering the text message said that she was in LA. How can she be in the city but her house deserted? Thankfully Charles picks up on this but tries his best not to worry and be fun to prove he's not the unfunny uncle.

The party is as awkward as you'd expect but with some fun moments. Loretta shows up and she and Oliver talk about their future and if Oliver will move to LA to be with her. It's a complex decision that I don't expect to be answered anytime soon. Charles is still worried about Sazz and Mabel just looks like she doesn't even want to be there.

We discover the actors playing the trio are Eugene Levy, Eva Longoria, and Zach Galifianakis. None of the trio vibe with their counterparts. Eva tries too hard to be young and hip with Mabel, Zach is rude and dismissive to Oliver, and Eugene bores Charles with his impressions. Plus again, the Sazz disappearance is concerning. Seeing someone in a hat and trench coat, Charles follows them and the person is revealed to be Bakula. When asked about the body double work, Bakula reveals that Sazz never showed. Now the warning signs are fully going off in Charles' head. But wait! Things get even more weird because Charles gets a call from Lester that they couldn't get the window changed out that day. The same window that no one has noticed has a whole bullet hole through it. So that's where the whistling came from.

Howard got a new dog named Gravy because he can no longer adopt cats from the shelter and this is an interesting development because Gravy used to be a working dog. We don't know what job but I assume some sort of police work because when Gravy entered the middle of the kitchen where Sazz's body was she would not stop howling. So either a cadaver dog or maybe one used to sniff out certain substances? The killer could have messed with something in Charles' apartment that is causing that ringing that he's experiencing. We'll find out soon enough by episode 9 or 10. Ok it turns out that we won't have to wait because it's not Gravy it's Gravey because she is in fact a cadaver dog! I was right!

When the trio returns to New York, Howard brings over Gravey who searches the apartment and follows the trail up to the incinerator that was labeled out of order. When they go into the incinerator room and check what was recently incinerated all they find in the ashes is the replacement joints that Sazz received in Bulgaria. And the fake Sazz finally drops the act and texts back "Not your fucking friend" meaning we're dealing with a cold killer and one with a grudge against Charles for whatever reason.

I think this is honestly the saddest death in the series because this is someone that they all knew and was a good friend to Charles. He knew something was wrong just not what, and now his fears have been confirmed in the worst way. Not only did they kill her but they incinerated her too which is just so cruel to me that they'd dispose of her like that. It also makes me wonder what she had on her body that they didn't want to be discovered because a note can be thrown away but another thing such as a birthmark or tattoo can not. All I can say is that Charles is a very good friend for not only worrying about Sazz but going out of his way to find out where she went and I'm sorry for his loss. He'll be devastated when he realizes he was the target.

They really came out swinging with this first episode and I really hope they keep the momentum going because if so, it's shaping up to be the best season yet.

[mydarllinglover]

Alone || Home Invasion

Previous

When they had made it back, passed the burnt and collapsed buildings, a large truck was sat outside the gates, that was where the horn was coming from.

In Alexandria, it was an even worse sight, bodies were layed across the streets, blood caked the roads and pavements, and surviving people cried and wept.

Heath rushed Scott to the infirmary as Natalia and Michonne took in what had happened to their home.

Tobin and some of his old crew helped gather the people, laying them in a pile to be buried.

"Natty!" A voice cried out.

Evie was running towards her, she looked terrified and obviously was crying.

Natalia's eyes welled up as she bent down, accepting the hug as the little girl rushed into her arms, sobbing into the woman's shoulder.

Natalia held her up, petting her blonde hair as they both cried.

She felt a sense of relief that the girl was okay, she was alive, but she dreaded for what she had to tell her.

Michonne let them be, walking towards Maggie and Rosita who the girl had been with, they knew she was important to Natalia, and they understood she was part of their family now, as well.

"What happened, sweet girl?" Natalia asked her.

"Bad people, they came in and they... they...they killed them." She sobbed as she retold what had happened. "Daddy wasn't here, and you weren't here, I was so scared, but Carl took me inside, him and Enid said I had to help them protect the baby, I did, I tried my hardest." She threw her head back on Natalia's shoulder, as she rubbed her back.

"I know, I know. I'm so sorry." Natalia gently lifted her head, her palm cupped the girls small face, wiping away her tears. "But I need to tell you something, okay?"

"Where's Daddy?" She looked past the woman, not taking in what she said as she searched for her father, but he was nowhere in sight.

"Evie, listen, I'm so sorry, I'm so, sorry." She held the girls waist as she reached into her pocket, bringing out the chain.

Evie's eyes widened at the sight, she hadn't seen her dad without it since her mom had passed.

"He's gone...?" Her voice cracked. "He's with Mommy, isn't he?" She began sobbing again.

"I'm so sorry, Evie." Natalia confirmed, hugging the girl tighter. "He wanted you to know he loved you so, so, so, so much, and you're beautiful and kind, and sweet and talented, okay, and that he was so proud of you, incredibly proud of you."

"He's gone, he's gone, he's gone." She cried, wiping at her eyes, as her face puffed up, turning red. "He's dead!"

The people around them stared at the sight, feeling for the little girl.

"He loved you so much, I'm so sorry, he wanted me to take care of you, and I will, I promise."

"Open the gate!" Ricks voice boomed from outside the walls. "Open the gate! Open the gate, now!"

Natalia held on to Evie, tightly as Michonne and Maggie ripped the gate open, Rick was running towards them, the herd that he was supposed to be steering away, was following his trail.

As he ran in, the gate was quickly closed, walkers reached him, grabbing at air as they set their sights on the people inside.

Evie screamed as she watched, Natalia tried to shield her from it.

Tobin and his crew placed support beams along the walls, making sure that it would hold, especially with the herd outside.

Alexandrians watched as they accepted their lives were over.

"You can hear it." Rick said, pacing towards the fence. "Some of you saw it. They got back here, half of them. Still enough to surround us 20 deep. Look, I know you're scared. You haven't seen anything like this. You haven't been through anything like this. But we're safe for now." He looked around at the scared people.

Natalia listened to Rick, Evie was stood in front of her, her face blotchy from all the crying, she sniffled as she thought about her parents, scared about the wall, too, Natalia was holding onto her shoulders tightly, she didn't tell the woman she was hurting her.

"The panel the truck hit seems intact. We reinforced it just in case. Either way, the wall's gonna hold together. Can you?" He asked the people. "The others, they're gonna be back."

"They're gonna be back." Rosita repeated.

Natalia bent back down, letting the girl hide In the part between her neck and shoulder, as she began to sob, they weren't all coming back.

"Daryl, Abraham, Sasha, they have vehicles. They're gonna lead 'em away, just like the others. And Glenn, and Nicholas are gonna walk back through the gate after. They know what they're doing. And we know what to do." Rick said. "We keep noise to a minimum. Pull our blinds at night. Even better, keep the lights out. We'll try to make this place as quiet as a graveyard, see if they move on."

"This place is a graveyard." Francine spoke up.

Natalia glared at her, as she rubbed the small girls back.

"The quarry broke open and those walkers were heading this way." Aaron walked forward. "All of them. The plan that Rick put into place stopped that from happening. He got half of them away. I was out there, recruiting with Daryl and Natalia." He gestured to the woman. "I wanted to try to get into a cannery and scavenge, and they wanted to keep looking for people." Natalia looked down, feeling eyes on her. "We did what I wanted... and we wound up in a trap set by those people. And I lost my pack. They must've followed our tracks. Those people who attacked us... they found their way back here because of me."

Deanna walked away, shaking her head.

"There'll be more to talk about." Rick told the people.

"Deanna?" Tobin asked the woman. "Deanna."

She ignored him as she continued to walk.

People soon enough went back to their homes, or whatever they were doing before Rick showed up.

"Would you like to write your dads name on the wall?" Natalia asked the girl, pulling hair away from her face.

They had lost too many people, there was no bodies to burry, one of the ladies had begun painting the names on a wall panel.

She nodded weakly, stifling a yawn, all the emotions and crying had drained the young girl.

Natalia picked her up, carrying her towards the memorial.

"Hey, is it okay if Evie writes her dads name?" Natalia asked the woman.

"Yes, of course, here." She handed the brush to her.

Natalia accepted it, nudging Evie to sit up, she'd guide her hand to make the big letters.

After they wrote his name, and more tears streamed down the girls cheeks, Natalia looked up at the wall, seeing all the names.

Glenn's was also there, she didn't believe he was gone, or maybe she just didn't want to.

Seeing as she was stuck in Alexandria, and couldn't go and find him, like she said she would, Natalia would have to put all her focus into making sure Evie was okay.

"I think its time for bed." She murmured. "Yeah?"

Evie nodded, her face in a constant pout as she wiped at her tired eyes, again.

"Can I stay with you?" She asked, her voice was quiet.

"Of course, we'll have a sleepover, with Sully."

"Okay." She couldn't even manage a smile at something that would normally have her over the moon.

Natalia walked in the direction of her house, Rick was stood by, outside, watching the people, he had just been helping move bodies.

"Rick, do you need anything, or jobs need doing, Evie needs to be put to bed, but I don't wanna leave her right now." She told the man, as Evie was falling asleep in her arms, her fathers necklace was intwined in her little fingers.

"No, you go ahead." He told her, cupping the woman's head. "I'm sorry, truly, about what happened, we're all gonna be here for her, she's family now."

"I know." Natalia nodded. "It's not your fault, if it weren't for you we would of all been dead a long time ago, I would've probably died in that house." She scoffed. "Thank you." She smiled at the man, leaning in slightly as she pecked his cheek. "Anyone has anything different to say, you send them my way."

"Got it." He grimaced, patting her shoulder.

Natalia left, walking up the porch steps and heading inside her shared home.

Sully was waiting for her at the door, stepping back as she entered.

He was cautious of the little girl, following as he sniffed the pair as she headed up the stairs, towards her bedroom. 

Only when they were tucked under the covers, Evie was out like a light, snuggled up against the girl, hugging the rabbit that Sully had dropped beside her, as he layed on the bottom of the bed, did Natalia let her mind wander to this morning, and what had happened at the quarry, between her and Daryl.

She didn't know what she was feeling, something had changed a while ago, but she refused to give it attention.

She was up for the whole night, dwelling on her feelings for the man, seeming to notice him in a different light as she thought about their memories together, and their friendship.

She knew he was protective of her, sometimes she thought it was overkill, but that was just Daryl, he was like that with everyone, right?

But what about Harry? She couldn't let him go, he ruined her life, but she still loved him, the father of her children, the children she had lost because of him. She felt as though she were cheating, as she thought about the archer, but Harry had been dead for nearly 17 months, maybe it was time to move on, but what if she couldn't?

Daryl had a tendency to put everyone before himself, if someone had to die, he'd choose himself in a heartbeat, she'd just be setting herself up, once again. Natalia couldn't go through that again, she barely survived the first time, almost losing herself beyond no return, until she met Rick and his people, they saved her, brought her back to who she was, only as a better version, a stronger version.

Her head hurt by the morning, his name felt fake to her, she wasn't entirely sure if she had imagined him this whole time, but she felt a whole lot of confusion, and something else... the most she understood was that she missed him, and imagined every scenario he could be going through as time ticked by whilst he was out there.

The next day, Rick wanted to hold a talk with Morgan, her, Carol and Michonne.

Evie sat on the couch in their living room, still, staring ahead and waiting for Natalia to get back.

"What's going on?" Morgan asked, looking around the table, smiling gently.

"When I was coming back..." Rick cleared his throat, before continuing. "I tried to cut off the herd with the RV. Lead the walkers away. But five of those people with the W's in their foreheads, they stopped me. They tried to kill me, shot up the RV. Now Carol says she saw you. That you wouldn't kill those people."

"Did you let any of them go?" Carol asked.

"Yes, I did." Morgan answered.

Natalia looked up from the table at the man, her fist clenching.

"I didn't want to kill five people I didn't have to kill."

"They burned people alive." Carol gritted through her teeth, she was seething at the man. "That little girl in there, on the couch, they killed her only living parent, those people you didn't have to kill did that.."

"Yeah." He nodded at Carols point. He hesitated before asking his own question. "Why didn't you kill me Rick, back in King County? Pulled a knife on you. I stabbed you. So why didn't you kill me? Was it 'cause I saved you after the hospital?"

"'Cause I knew you who you were." Rick told him.

"Back there, I would have killed you as soon as I took a look at you. And I tried. But you, you let me live, and then I was there to help, Aaron, Natalia and Daryl." He pointed at her. She wished, right now, that he hadn't. "See, If I wasn't there... if they died, if you died" He looked at her now, she met his gaze, staring at him with a blank expression, but anger was swimming in her own eyes. "Maybe those wolves wouldn't have been able to come back here. I don't know what's right anymore. 'Cause I did want to kill those men. I seen what they did, what they would've keep doing. I knew I could end it. But I also know people can change."

"Not them." Natalia sniffed.

"They can, because everyone sitting here, has. All life is precious. And that idea, that idea changed me.  it brought me back, and it keeps me living."

"I just don't think it can be that easy." Michonne shook her head.

"Its not easy." He told her.

"I wasn't saying..."

"I know." Morgan cut her off. "And I've thought about letting that idea go. But I don't want to."

"You may have to. Things aren't as simple as four words. I don't think they ever were."

"Do you think I don't belong here?" He asked Rick.

"Making it now, do you really think you can do that without getting blood on your hands?" Rick responded.

"I don't know."

"You have a lot of nerve to preach your little spiritual journey after what happened yesterday, after the amount of names that were wrote on that wall, all because of those people who you deem as precious." Natalia told him. "All life is precious, but those people weren't living. When we were out there, me, Aaron and Daryl, before we reached the cannery, we found a body in the woods, except it wasn't just a dead body, it was everything but his torso and head, they had taken it with them, then we found a naked girl, tied to a tree, her body had been ripped apart, eaten, whilst she was mostly likely still alive, not being able to even fight against it, that's what your precious people did." She hit the table, standing up so abruptly, almost knocking her chair back, before leaving out the back door, standing on the porch.

Rick and Michonne had followed her out a moment after.

"What are we going to do about the herd, we have no idea if they're even going to come back." Natalia asked, hoping to distract them so that they would forget about her temper tantrum just now.

Rick sighed, copying Michonne as she stood beside Natalia leaning on the banister.

"They're coming back." Michonne told her, no room in her tone for argument.

"If we can somehow get outside the walls" Rick started. "Get back to our cars at the quarry. We could use them to draw them away."

"We'll set up more watch points." Michonne said. "Coordinate the shooting of guns and flares so we could pull them out in even directions."

"We need to get all our people on it." Rick agreed. "Carl, Tara, Rosita, Carol."

"What about everyone else?" Michonne asked.

"A lot still blame Rick, Aarons speech only worked on some, but they like him more than they like us." Natalia sniffed, staring ahead.

"Nat's right, lets just keep this to our own for now."

"Really?"

"Look, if we had the time to bring the people along, sure. But we haven't had a chance to catch our breath."

"Really?" Michonne stared at him. "We're in here, together. We're catching our breath right now. Anything else is just excuses."

The three were silent, before footsteps could be heard behind them.

"Deanna?" Rick asked the older woman.

"Rick." She smiled as she approached them.

"What's that?" He asked, nodding at the large rolled up paper in her hand. 

"Plans for the expansion."

Natalia furrowed her brows, expansion? They couldn't even leave the walls.

"We got a few other things on our plate right now." He told her, Natalia jutted her lip, he spoke her exact thoughts.

"I know." She said in an obvious tone, Michonne held her hand out, as Deanna placed it in her palm. "These are for what Alexandria can be after this. Because one way or another, there's gonna be an after this."

Carol was making lunch, she had practically forced Evie to help her, in the nicest way possible, Natalia had decided to go to Milo's and Evie's house, picking up a few things for the girl, to help her for the meantime, and follow what Milo had told her about learning about the young girl from the documents her mother had made him keep safe, Natalia had shared with Carol that she didn't want to bring Evie for the moment, thinking it best if she wasn't around it so soon, this was before confiding in her that she had no idea how to raise a kid, Carol knew she was good with babies and small toddlers, but she never had a kid to care for, especially a six year old, a difficult age range to parent, it was a lot to throw on someone with no experience, especially someone under 30. She was willing to support and help out the woman in any way she could.

Michonne had helped Natalia at the house.

"Mich." Natalia started, as the pair packed up some things in Evie's room, including a teddy and a small throw blanket that looked like it had been around as long as the little girl had, that layed on the princess quilted bedspread.

"Yeah?" She responded

"Have you ever thought about dating, now?"

"Why?" Michonne looked at her suspiciously. "Have you."

Natalia shrugged.

"Nat?"

"Sort of, but every time I find myself thinking about, I get this guilty feeling, like I'm emotionally cheating or something."

"On who?"

They had talked before about their boyfriends, neither revealed about the children they had lost, so far, the only people who knew, were a person each, the two other people Natalia had shared her secret with, were dead, she was beginning to think it was a curse.

"Harry?" Michonne guessed.

Natalia didn't answer, flicking through the pages of The Lion, The witch and the wardrobe, By C.S. Lewis, there was a bookmark in between the pages, only a quarter of the book remained to be read, Milo must've read it to her for bed time. She found the page with the bookmark, it was one of those photobooth strips, of Evie and a woman she guessed was her mom, in the first picture, they smiled nicely at the camera, the next, they were pulling faces at the camera, the third, her mom was kissing her cheek, and the last one, Evie was kissing her mom's cheek.

Evie looked about four or five in the photo's, It must've been just before the outbreak.

"Nat, it's not cheating to think about moving on." Michonne interrupted her thumbing at the strip.

Natalia placed it back in, closing the book and placing it in the bag.

"Then why do I feel bad about it?"

"It's a tough situation. But you can't go your whole life staying loyal to a man who's not here, what he did, it was horrible, and I'm sorry he did that to you, the way he did, without giving you a goodbye or just talking to you, ending it after an argument, is the lowest blow." It meant a lot to hear that from her friend, if anyone knew what it was like to feel betrayed by their partner, it was Michonne. "Is there any reason in particular you're asking? Or person."

"No..." Natalia avoided her gaze like the plague, or the virus.

"Natalia, is this about Da-"

"Do you like Rick?" Natalia asked her, before she got to finish the name.

"What?" Michonne laughed.

"If you tell me, I'll tell you." Natalia didn't care if she sounded like a middle schooler.

Michonne thought about it for a second.

"No." She decided to her ultimatum.

"Good, I was just wondering because I was thinking about Harry a bit" Lie. "Because of Milo and his wife, was just thinking about it, and he confessed to me y'know..."

"Do you still love him?"

"Of course I do, yeah, I think so." Natalia furrowed her brows as she thought about her answer.

"But are you still in love with him."

Natalia pondered this for a moment, thinking hard, was she? She didn't really take notice when she had stopped, she hadn't mulled it over before, it never occurred to her if she was in love with him since or if she could even fall out of love with him... she sort of forgot what it felt like to be in love in the first place.

Gunshots came from outside, breaking her out of her train of thought.

The two women dropped the belongings, grabbing their weapons and heading outside.

Rick and Tobin were stood on one of the watch posts, trying to pull a rope up from outside the wall, both struggling, then they turned their heads to see Tara was hanging onto the wall, shooting at walkers.

Michonne and Natalia ran for the post Tara was hanging from, as Eugene ran down the road, sounding like he was hyperventilating.

Tara was still shooting when they reached her, but she had ran out of bullets.

Getting on top of the watch post, Natalia was able to see Spencer hanging onto the rope, struggling to climb up it as walkers grabbed at him from below, he was also missing a shoe.

"Grab on!" Michonne told Tara, as her and Natalia helped the woman up and over the wall.

Morgan had joined Rick and Tobin, finally helping him up and over, onto the watch point where they were stood.

"Tara!" Rick shouted. "You almost died once for these people."

"What?" She leaned forward, confused why he was mad at her.

"What the hell were you doing?!"

Tara responded in flipping him off.

He then turned on Spencer, interrogating him.

"You alright?" Natalia asked Tara.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She looked away from Rick, her frown disappearing as she met the eyes of Natalia, offering a kind smile.

When they had got back down to the ground, Michonne and Natalia went back to the house, Natalia had found the paperwork.

The pair sat on the porch steps as Natalia read through everything about Evie, learning about her, just like her dad asked, so she could get a better understanding and raise her.

Michonne had a hold of Deanna's plans still, opening it up and taking a look, beside her friend.

"Evelyn Ruth Baker. Born fourteenth of April, 2005." Natalia read out loud to Michonne. "Blood type; A+"

"We have a birthdate, that's a month a half from now, give or take." Michonne told her.

"I can't do this." Natalia sighed, looking down as she dropped the birth certificate back in the small box. "Why me, why would he ask me, she's been here since the start, there's so many people he could've asked, I don't know what I'm doing, I can't take care of her."

"Hey." Michonne stopped her spiral. "Stop, right now. He trusted you, yeah, you didn't know each other that long, but you didn't need to, that kid loves you, and you're the best person for her, so you're gonna have to accept that, but doubting yourself and freaking out isn't going to help her or yourself. You've saved so many lives, mine, Carl's, Ricks, Daryl's, without even thinking about it, if she's safe in the hands of anyone, it's you."

A large groaning sound came from above, the two women looked away from each other, at the tall white building, half of it burnt down.

They watched as if it was a slow-mo, as it fell forward, towards them.

Michonne and Natalia jumped up from the steps, away from the house as the building hit the ground, knocking out the wall it was against.

A thick cloud of dust fell over Alexandria, and that's when the familiar violent snarls and groans of what the wall was keeping out, trailed in.

The pair brought out their weapons, ready for attack.

"Carl!" Natalia called to the boy, who was with another his age, she assumed was the son of the woman Rick was friends with, Pete's wife, she didn't really talk to many of the Alexandrians unless there was reason to. 

Michonne and her ran towards them.

"Come on, let's go! I see Rick." Michonne spotted him, as he ran with Deanna.

Gabriel soon joined them as well.

"Rick!" Michonne called as the growing group caught up to the man and injured woman.

"Good, you're safe. Come on." Rick looked back, seeing his family, they fought off walkers as they ran, Natalia shot down any getting too close, even though she was against guns on walkers, wanting to safe her bullets for the real problem, but she didn't have a choice.

"There." Deanna pointed as Michonne slashed a walker down, Natalia shot at a walker that got too close to Carl, for comfort, before twisting and stabbing her knife into the one who lunged at her from behind.

A line of walkers blocked them off from the houses, Deanna continued to cry out.

Shots from behind them sounded, taking down walkers, creating a path, Pete's wife was stood with a gun, in front of her house.

"Come on, I have Judith and Evie!" She screamed. Why the hell did this random woman have her kid? Natalia thought to herself as they ran up the porch.

Michonne was the last in, shutting the door and locking it.

"Put her on the couch." Rick said, getting a better hold on Deanna, carrying her as she cried in pain.

"Evie?" Natalia called. "Where's Evie?!" She turned to the woman.

"Upstairs first one on the left!" The blonde woman answered Rick, seeming to not hear Natalia in the chaos. "Come on."

They all ran upstairs.

"Where?" Rick asked her.

"This one on the right."

"Which room?"

"Go in there!" She pointed at a door down the hallway.

Michonne and Natalia helped Rick carry Deanna to the room, laying her on the bed.

They helped her get comfortable as Pete's wife talked to her younger son.

Evie ran out the room she was in with Judith.

"Natty!" She cried.

"Oh, god!" Natalia stood up, jogging towards the girl.

Judith was hysterically crying in Carls arms.

"Are you okay, are you hurt?" She asked Evie, who stared at Deanna as Michonne helped her.

"What's happening, is she going to die?" She looked back up at Natalia, wide eyed as they pooled.

The door they were stood in front of, closed, the blond boy hiding away.

"No, no,  it's okay, she's going to be fine, okay, it's alright" Natalia told her, hurriedly. "Let's go with Carl okay, and we'll play with the baby, it's gonna be all okay, you're safe." She followed the way Carl had gone.

"Carl, can you watch her, I need to check on Deanna. Help Michonne if she needs it."

Carl and the other boy were in the room with Judith, they were boarding up the windows.

"Yeah, sure." He looked over his shoulder at her.

"Hey, Evie, you're gonna play with Carl and..." Natalia looked up at the boy.

"Ron." He muttered.

"Yeah, you're gonna play with Carl, Ron and Judith okay, they're turning the room into a fort, I'm going to be just down the hall, okay, me and Michonne are going to be helping Deanna, make her better, I need you to stay in here and help the boys, can you do that?"

She nodded sadly, before hugging Natalia.

"You're brave okay, you are so brave, and you're going to be safe, I pinkie promise." She pulled away, cupping the girls face, putting out her pinkie, which the little girl entwined her own with, as they kissed  their fists. "Stay here." She kissed the girls head. "Thanks, Carl" Then she went back to the room Michonne and Deanna were in, Rick was with Ron's mom.

Michonne was sat beside Deanna's side when she entered.

"All patched up?" Natalia asked, entering the room, trying to catch her breath from all the rushing around.

Michonne looked at her, discreetly shaking her head before looking down.

"Shit." Natalia muttered, eying the patch of blood on her blue shirt, before looking at the older woman.

"Shit, indeed." Deanna grimaced. "Take a seat." She nodded to beside where she was laying, Natalia did as told.

A moment of awkward silence passed between the three women.

"The plans you gave Rick." Michonne started. "I, we've been looking them over." She included Natalia only because she had been right beside her, even if she was looking at her own thing.

Though Natalia still looked at her, confused, she hadn't seen the plans, she hoped Deanna wasn't going to ask what she was most excited about.

But when Deanna looked over at her, she smiled and nodded.

"I get it." Michonne continued. "They could work."

"Even now?" Deanna asked.

"Even now."

"We're gonna get through this" Natalia told her. "Everyone here has worked too hard for this place to let it go now, we'll get it back."

Deanna smiled at her, patting her hand.

"The Latin in the margins, what was that?" Michonne asked.

Deanna chuckled.

"It was something Reg used to say when things went really, really, really badly. I'm lucky." she told them. "Working with my family towards a better future is... it's all I've ever wanted. That's what I got. I got to do what I wanted... right up to the end. What do you want?"

"Cheese." Natalia mumbled, the second thing she wanted.

Deanna laughed at her answer.

"I want this place to work." Michonne told Deanna, a response Natalia wished she had picked when Michonne side eyed her.

"Yes, but what does that mean for you?" Deanna asked the woman. "What do you want for you?"

Natalia looked at her friend, wondering what she would say.

"I don't know." Michonne said.

"You better. Natalia does." She nodded at the brunette.

Next

Tags : @fallenkitten

[uswnt5]

https://www.tumblr.com/uswnt5/760473711522594816/tobscody-hug

Who is this man I’m blue Tobin is talking to

that's their friend James. The one who does the triathlons. He was at Tobs bday last year when the four of them went to palm springs, according to their photos.

[whatsabriard]

A bonus drabble, for @marymcmagic-hair because i make the rules and i can break 'em.

i. Jonathan took her to hot spot after hot spot, each time ensuring they were seated at the best table. Each time ensuring the champagne they were served was the very best on offer. 

On any other man, it would have seemed like showboating, bragging, a ham-handed seduction. But on this man - on Jonathan Hart - it was a very effective seduction. 

Even the way he held her to dance, with gentle confidence and just a little too close. He told her she was lovely and he listened to her.

When his chuckle rumbled into her heart… well, that changed everything. 

Shit.

ii. At first, he looked at Louise Tobin as an intriguing way to pass the time. She was gorgeous and he had ideas about how she looked beneath that buttoned up suit. Her curves were soft against his palms, but she had spine and a sharp wit and she made him laugh with her wicked sharp tongue.

He wanted to taste that tongue, to drink the words right from her lips. He wanted to hold her and peel away the silk until she was bare and writhing for him. He wanted to talk to her all night long.

He wanted her.

[guenole-rainbird]

O. Henry Reading list

I've read 100 Hundred O. Henry stories over the past week. The aim was to get a good understanding of the themes and tropes present in his writing and also to find stories to adapt beyond the most popular ones (And also to show-off with a pretty number).

Reading list (In order of reading):

20 Years

Hearts & Minds

The Cops & the Anthem

The Ransom of the Red Chief

The Caliph, Cupid & the clock

Mammon & the Archer

A retrieved Reformation

The furnished Room

The Count & the Wedding Guest

Hearts & Crosses

The Romance of a Busy Broker

American Stories

A municipality Report

A Man About Town

A Cosmopolite in a Cafe

The Last Leaf

A Service of Love

Tobin's Palm

Springtime a la Cart

By Courier

The Coming Out of Maggie

The Cactus

Girl

One Dollar's Worth

Witches Loaves

Between Rounds

The Skylight Room

An Adjustment of Nature

Memoirs of a Yellow Dog

The Love Philtre

The Green Door

From the Cabby's Seat

An Unfinished Story

Sisters of the Golden Circle

Lost on a Dress Parade

The Brief Debut of Tildy

The Poet & the Peasant

Babes in the Jungle

A Ramble in Aphasia

Proof of the Pudding

Conscience in Art

Transcient in Arcadia

The Robe of Peace

The Duel

Innocents of Broadway

The Princess & the Puma

The Badge of the Policeman O'Roon

The Girl & the Graft

Psyche & the Psyscraper

A lickpenny Lover

The Third Ingredient

The Purple Dress

The Roads We Take

Make the World Kin

Brick Dust Row

A Strange Story

The Trimmed Lamp

A Call Loan

The Pendulum

Two Thanksgiving Day Gentlemen

The Guilty Party

The Detective Detector

A Little Talk About Mobs

Suite Home & their Romance

A Sacrifice Hit

A Newspaper Story

Two Recalls

Tommy's Burglar

An Odd Character

A Houston Romance

The Legend of San Jacinto

The Pink Flask

A New Microbe

Whiskey did it

Nothing New Under the Sun

The Barber Talks

Did you See the Circus

A Story for Men

How he got in the Swin

When the Train Comes in

The Girl & the Habbit

What You Want

While the Auto Waits

The Prisoner of Zambla

The Clairon Call

Aristocracy vs. Hash

Lord Oakhurst's Curse

The Rathskeller & the Rose

The Marry Month of May

The Social Triangle

A Midsummer Night's Dream

The Duplicity of Hargraves

According to their lights

Fickle Fortune: How Gladys Hustled

The Voice of the City

Newspaper Poets

The Snow

How Willie Saved Father

In Mezzotint

The Mirage on the Frio

[saviolum-sanguineus]

glory, glory, glory (of transience and unknowable memory)

Esme always wanted to belong with the stars. Perhaps, with all her brightness, she should have known it would come to burning. tw: death

Wind stirs the flowers again, along with their shadows; slivers of silver light and the darkness neighboring them whirl over the marble and draw Luna’s and Joel’s eyes.

Even if the glamour hadn’t withered away the moment its caster passed into death, the Malrics still wouldn’t have held an open viewing. Pheles had long since forced its fill of drinking in their daughter; she would have laughed at the idea that death would preserve her dignity, but Tobin and Yvette hold a private ceremony anyways.

They dress Esme in crimson, fine cloth woven furiously and dyed by her mother’s hands, and lay soft lavender and lilies by her head and feet, nestled around the cold stiffness of her body so the soil and stone will welcome her home. The blooms do not cover the scars—skin split by flame and flagellation, healed over waxy and gnarled—and Tobin cannot bring himself to look Val in the eye to ask for his help.

So they sit and speak to Esme one last time, before warm, trembling hands lay over a pair of cold ones and tuck a trio of mementos where they’re folded: a worry chain of tiny, interlocking wooden hearts, polished buttery smooth and varnished with a glossy dark cherry stain; a pair of ribbons spun from silk that gleams softly opalescent, embroidered with tiny, fine-stitched scenes of a dancer whirling in the stars, and coiled into the shape of two roses; a child-sized woodworking chisel, worn with age and marked near the lip of its handle with a tiny, crudely carved pair of cats sitting with their tails entwined.

Three pairs of hands lower the lid of the casket. A clock ticks over the sound of sobs. A charcoal portrait of Esme smiles brightly from its stand between carefully arranged flowers; in front of it is a plate of apple slices cut to look like rabbit ears, crisp flesh yellowing.

They lower the casket with all the care they’d saved up for her during her life and great absence from theirs. When the earth is smoothed over before a marble stone, three warm hands press their palms in turn to the triquetra carved below Esme’s name; the scent of mingled magic lingers in the air as the Malrics depart—solemn sorrow so unspeakable it silences even their steps.

Taran has either the consideration or carelessness not to visit until three days have passed. He drops a single poppy over the grave and looks silently at the headstone and its inscription for a long moment. A faint, vaguely sad smile and a shake of his head before the murmur: “Eight more, kitten. Maybe you’ll find me again in the next.”

He smokes wordlessly while Cassius kneels to perform something tearful that’s part prayer and part farewell, choking on the words he gulps to make way for sobbing. Taran steps forward only to place a hand on his son’s shoulder and urge him up to his feet when the message turns to apologies.

“We all made our choices,” Taran whispers as he hugs Cassius close, scooping him up. His face is unreadable, voice steady as he ferries his son away. “Even her. Even then.”

He slows but does not stop when he passes Zia on the path, one arm slung around Morael’s shoulder. She raises an eyebrow but says nothing. When the Marquesses Seraphine leave the cemetery, it’s without the elegant but impersonal bouquet they’d entered with—red ranunculus and sparkling white lilies—and having completed another task on their list of duties.

Luna visits at night, when the moon high above is the only witness. She stares at the headstone too, mouth pressing into a tight frown before she sighs.

“Hi. Um, I miss you,” she says, eyes dropping to the pile of flowers atop the grave. Briefly, she wonders if Esme would have wanted her to bring flowers too. In the moonlight, their petals seem colourless.

Luna hesitates. “I miss you,” she says again. The petals flutter in a breeze that curves so like the touch of a hand that Luna nearly expects the moonlight bending over the marble to slide aside in response. Quiet settles again like snow.

“I thought about talking to Ell,” Luna says suddenly. “I don’t know if you’d remember her. I think you met. And you knew so many people here. Ell has studied necromancy. She could bring you back. I’d convince her. But I don’t know if you’d want that. I never knew what you wanted. But I always wanted to do what you wanted. Even if I never was.”

She pauses. Esme’s grave does not respond.

“I’m going to miss you for a long time,” Luna says quietly. “I keep thinking about the night you spent at my place, back then. And if there was anything I could have to done to make this end differently.”

“Luna?”

Her instinctive shielding spell flickers and fades—somewhat reluctantly—as Joel emerges from the shadows along the path. He’s dressed darkly, signs of the papacy condensed to a Farfallan cross hanging from his neck, minimal enough to assure his being mistaken for a devout civilian from a distance.

Luna grimaces before nodding at Joel. “Pope Babyboy.”

He blinks—something twitches over his expression, fleeting as a cloud over the moon, before Joel motions towards the grave, still not quite able to look directly at it.

“I wanted to come pay my respects. If you’d prefer privacy, I can wait.” There’s a faint pause after the words.

Wind stirs the flowers again, along with their shadows; slivers of silver light and the darkness neighboring them whirl over the marble and draw Luna’s and Joel’s eyes.

Rain washes pollen from the marble, water gathering in the etched lettering above Esme’s name. Beloved. May she dance among the stars.

Far, far away, in the ashes of what used to be an Aixoisi lavender field, rainwater mixes with the silt and ash and soaks the grave of flowers that knew too early the grace of burning. Earthworms churn in the dirt and break through the surface, glistening raw and pink in the moonlight.

The first petal from the flowers left at Esme’s grave flutters gracefully to the earth, felled not by malice but by time.

[softnoirr]

Okay here’s another section for director’s commentary for you 🥰

“I haven’t seen you dance since—” Christen swallows, it was a stupid sentence to start, a worse one not to finish. “Since we were kids.”

Tobin huffs a laugh but she doesn’t turn back around. Her head is dropped so far between her shoulders that Christen would have to crane her neck to catch her expression in the mirror.

“You’re still better than me,” Christen adds, aiming for a joke and rocking forward on her toes. Three steps now. There’s sweat at the base of Tobin’s back. It’s turned the blue of her leotard almost black, like a speckled sky.

“I was never better than you,” Tobin looks up then, meeting Christen’s eye in the mirror. She smiles, a dimple tugging up one side of her face. Christen’s eyes linger on it. She wants to commit every line of it to memory, the proof that she’d said the right thing for once. That she could make Tobin smile; one against a thousand.

“Your Grand Prix titles beg to differ,” Christen says, raising an eyebrow. She thinks Tobin has five, all up. Christen has two silver medals and filed withdrawal paperwork.

Tobin scoffs, “You know they’re totally rigged, right? Kelley won a Grand Prix medal and she can barely hold an arabesque.”

“You tell me my arabesque is terrible every time you see me dance,” Christen says.

Two and a half steps with the way she’s shuffled forward. Tobin’s eyes are bright in the mirror, even through the layer of sweat on her skin, the flicker of pain each time she moves her leg.

Tobin shakes her head, dropping her eyes in the mirror, but she’s smiling like Christen has told her a half-amusing joke. It's the same smile Christen used to catch glimpses of from across the room in these same mirrors. She doesn’t know what to do with it. How to be easy and flippant the way the people Tobin was directing it towards then were.

She wants to sink her teeth into Tobin’s chin just to know how the imprint of it tastes.

“It is terrible. For you . There's like, different standards,” Tobin says, adjusting her hands over the barre. The sweat of her palm against the polished wood makes a sharp sound and Christen winces, rocking forward another step. Tobin looks back up to meet her eye in the mirror, “You’re on a different level, Pressi.”

i am currently travelling and a bit all over the place so this probably isn't the best analysis i've ever done of something but!! enjoy!!

“I haven’t seen you dance since—” Christen swallows, it was a stupid sentence to start, a worse one not to finish. “Since we were kids.” [This isn’t technically true because she’s seen the video of Tobin’s injury last season, but that doesn’t count in Christen’s memory and Tobin doesn’t know about it.]

Tobin huffs a laugh but she doesn’t turn back around. Her head is dropped so far between her shoulders that Christen would have to crane her neck to catch her expression in the mirror. [And that expression would be full of pain!]

“You’re still better than me,” Christen adds, aiming for a joke and rocking forward on her toes. Three steps now. There’s sweat at the base of Tobin’s back. It’s turned the blue of her leotard almost black, like a speckled sky. [Romeo and Juliet parallel inserted by sheer force of will here. But also — for how little Tobin is dancing and the time of year, she should not be sweating as much as she is; she’s in a lot of pain and exerting herself further than she should]

“I was never better than you,” Tobin looks up then, meeting Christen’s eye in the mirror. She smiles, a dimple tugging up one side of her face. Christen’s eyes linger on it. She wants to commit every line of it to memory, the proof that she’d said the right thing for once. That she could make Tobin smile; one against a thousand.

“Your Grand Prix titles beg to differ,” Christen says, raising an eyebrow. She thinks Tobin has five, all up. Christen has two silver medals and filed withdrawal paperwork. [It always comes back to the past for Christen. Tobin probably hasn’t thought about a GP in years, but Christen laments it. The fact Tobin doesn’t think about it would just irritate Christen more though]

Tobin scoffs, “You know they’re totally rigged, right? Kelley won a Grand Prix medal and she can barely hold an arabesque.” [Kelley catching strays here, sorry. Tobin’s just trying to make Christen laugh and Kelley is the obvious target because she is at NYCB so doesn’t have “loyalty”] 

“You tell me my arabesque is terrible every time you see me dance,” Christen says. [Wild exaggeration but Christen’s never seen an insult she couldn’t ruminate on]

Two and a half steps with the way she’s shuffled forward. Tobin’s eyes are bright in the mirror, even through the layer of sweat on her skin, the flicker of pain each time she moves her leg. [Tobin’s eyes are bright because she’s talking to Christen, but she’s wincing through pain because of an injury that Christen is inextricably linked to. For Christen, the focus is always going to be on that pain. For Tobin, the phrasing of even through isn’t accidental]

Tobin shakes her head, dropping her eyes in the mirror, but she’s smiling like Christen has told her a half-amusing joke [hate this turn of phrase don’t know why I did it lmao]. It's the same smile Christen used to catch glimpses of from across the room in these same mirrors [You are being haunted!! Your ghost is in everything!!]. She doesn’t know what to do with it. How to be easy and flippant the way the people Tobin was directing it towards then were. [Unreliable narrator check]

She wants to sink her teeth into Tobin’s chin just to know how the imprint of it tastes. [To be loved is to be consumed. Also, Christen really wants to fuck Tobin about how good she is at ballet, which is major subtext in this whole scene] 

“It is terrible. For you. There's like, different standards,” Tobin says, adjusting her hands over the barre. The sweat of her palm against the polished wood makes a sharp sound [Tobin’s hands are sweating! She’s nervous too! These confessions cost her something even when Christen doesn’t notice it!] and Christen winces, rocking forward another step [Christen can’t help but get closer and closer]. Tobin looks back up to meet her eye in the mirror, “You’re on a different level, Pressi.”[So many questions from this line and this scene generally — does Tobin actually believe this? Has she always felt this way? Why has she been so critical of Christen in the past if this is how she does feel?]

[filmstudentingwithzak]

Inspiration- 'Tobin's Palm' Adaptation

Ella, our director, out up a board of inspiration shots for our adaptation of 'Tobin's Palm', and here are some of my favourites that we've each found.

I'm looking to focus on:

-Low-key, soft, mainly practical lighting to show that Toby's world isn't clear.

-Murky shots using a warped lens, lens filters with vaseline or saran wrap. This will lean into the surreal aspects of the film and help make the scenes inside the tent look more labyrnthine.

-Wide shots to make Toby look small and overwhelmed. Extreme Close-Ups on his face, hands (blood under fingernails), and damaged objects in his environment (dying plant) as metaphors for his state of mind. The disparity in shot size should show his tenuous grasp on his changing world.

-Static shots when he feels anxious and observed, as the palm reader can see the things he tries to hide from the world. Handheld when he feels panicked and we’re supposed to be freaking out with him.

[filmadaptationing]

Inspiration

Ella, our director, out up a board of inspiration shots for our adaptation of 'Tobin's Palm', and here are some of my favourites that we've each found.

I'm looking to focus on:

-Low-key, soft, mainly practical lighting to show that Toby's world isn't clear.

-Murky shots using a warped lens, lens filters with vaseline or saran wrap. This will lean into the surreal aspects of the film and help make the scenes inside the tent look more labyrnthine.

-Wide shots to make Toby look small and overwhelmed. Extreme Close-Ups on his face, hands (blood under fingernails), and damaged objects in his environment (dying plant) as metaphors for his state of mind. The disparity in shot size should show his tenuous grasp on his changing world.

-Static shots when he feels anxious and observed, as the palm reader can see the things he tries to hide from the world. Handheld when he feels panicked and we’re supposed to be freaking out with him.

[ellasfilm]

Lighting for Tobin's Palm adaptation

I recently purchased a SMALLRIG light, which will be really useful when shooting our film. Here's me and Fred (writer) experimenting with it! We want the lighting to be intense like such, when Toby is having his psychedelic visions.

[film-frederick-murray]

Adaptation - Pre-Production

Date: 20/2/24

Our film will be an adaptation of 'Tobin's Palm'. It will be a loose adaptation and I am currently working on the 3rd draft of the script. It will be a psychological horror / drama with themes of denial, addiction and grief. I am very much enjoying the creative process of writing, creating a more focussed and cohesive story with every draft is heavily rewarding.