#what else have i read this year... pretty mug just those and mostly within the last 2 weeks btw

[discoidal]

i just finished penance by eliza clark and i have thoughts that can only be communicated out loud in person through speech with an accompanying slideshow of pics of me in maxi skirts from 5th to 10th grade

[thetomorrowshow]

unless you take your army back ch. 3

First  -  Previous  -  Read on AO3!

When I tell you I have never been more mad at one of my characters

cw: blood, violence, injuries

~

As the week cycled past, Jack fell into a kind of routine. He hated to leave Crutchie alone for any amount of time, but he had things to do. He made the decision to accept the cartoonist job, so that he could get away with selling less papers and still afford rent and food for both him and Crutchie.

Same as every other morning, Jack climbed down from the roof and got the boys up and getting ready with as little noise as possible--he didn’t want to wake Crutchie prematurely, especially if the kid had been having nightmares like he suspected. A quick trip to the convent and back, leaving Specs to get the troupe to the Delanceys’, which he handled easily. This morning, Jack took the coffee and apple that the nuns had given him and set them on the chair beside Crutchie, who was just beginning to stir. Jack felt immense relief--he couldn’t stay, he really couldn’t, but waking alone had sent Crutchie spiraling into a panic attack more than once in the past few days.

“Hey Crutch, breakfast,” Jack announced, cringing inwardly as he saw Crutchie flinch. The boy sat up, rubbing his eyes with his good hand--most of the bandages on that hand had been removed, excepting two fingers that were wrapped together to make them heal straight. Crutchie had had to let Katherine do that, even though he’d been changing his own bandages for the past three days. Katherine wasn’t too happy with this arrangement, but Jack knew that Crutchie was uncomfortable with letting someone--especially a girl--patch him up. When the two had approached him for a tie-breaker to this argument, he had easily sided with Crutchie. The look of gratitude and relief on Crutchie’s face had been worth Katherine’s disapproval.

Crutchie took the apple and frowned, then put it back down in favor of the coffee. Jack raised a brow at that as he hopped from one foot to the other, trying to stall his departure. “Somethin’ wrong with it?” he asked. Crutchie shrugged.

His silence wasn’t strange, really. For Crutchie it was far from the norm--sure, he usually hid pain from everyone, but he liked to talk. It was part of who he was. Crutchie had barely spoken a sentence strung together in the past week. Kids who came from the Refuge were always quiet, though. Jack himself had never really talked about his time there, just bottled it up until it exploded onto the paper. He’d gotten better, it had just taken some time. Same for any of the others who had been in there. Crutchie would be better in no time.

“D’ya need anything else?”

Crutchie took another sip of coffee. He glanced around, eyes wide and sad. For a moment, Jack saw not his fifteen year old brother, but a child. Eight years old, like he was when they found him. Shivering from the cold, face all bruised up, hiding in a back alley as snow swirled around and attempted to bury him.

Then Jack blinked, and Crutchie looked--well, not fifteen (he’d always passed for younger, useful on the streets), but like himself. Sort of. He was bruised up, of course--his entire face was a mottled green and purple as it began to heal--and hadn’t really done much smiling lately. It was still Crutchie, though. As tired as he looked now, Jack knew it wouldn’t be long before he was raring to go, grinning that bright grin of his, his eyes sparkling as he ribbed good-naturedly with the other boys.

“Open the window?” Crutchie whispered, and Jack nearly ran to do so. There were a few windows in the room, but Crutchie hadn’t specified which one, so he threw open each of them. As he was getting the one next to Crutchie, the boy looked up at him. “Don’t ya have work?” he asked, a bit louder.

“Ye-es?”

Crutchie rolled his eyes, and Jack mentally celebrated. Every time Crutchie rolled his eyes or quirked a brow, Jack gained more hope that his recovery was going well. “Get outta here, Jack.”

Jack lingered a few moments longer, but only long enough for Crutchie to glare at him. “All right, all right, I’m headin’ out,” he said, hands in the air. “I’ll be back in a few hours. That apple better be ate by the time I’m back.”

With the windows open, he could hear the first calls of the street vendors. He really did need to leg it. Jack adjusted his hat and made off, the door swinging shut behind him.

Crutchie winced, then watched it for a few moments. Apparently assured that Jack was not going to return, he traded the cup for the apple and chucked the fruit out the window beside him.

-

Too much time that Crutchie didn’t have had passed. A whole week of being laid up in someone else’s bed, letting them pay his rent and bring him food. He had to get back out there, and soon.

Crutchie wasn’t stupid. He knew how he looked--he’d know even if Albert didn’t insist on telling him every day “Get healed, Crutchie, ‘cuz nobody’s hankerin’ ta buy papes from that ugly mug”. He also knew that he had been perhaps hours away from death when Katherine rescued him, and that took time to get over.

But Crutchie wasn’t a normal kid. He didn’t have a pa with a job, or a mother who was supposed to take care of him, or money just lying around. He had a job, and he took care of himself, and his money went toward survival. Recovery just wasn’t an option for a kid who had to work every day of the year.

He supposed that, in some respect, that was what the union had been formed for. Davey’s dad had been laid off because he got hurt on the job, and unions were supposed to stop that from happening. The newsies weren’t officially hired, though, were they? Were they going to have to be listed as part of the company now? Would there be contracts to sign for everyone? But newsies came and went, it had to be more cumbersome to keep track of everyone involved. The whole affair made his head hurt.

Union benefits or not, Crutchie didn’t have the money to spend many more days in bed, and he wasn’t about to let Jack waste his savings on him when he was capable of making money. Jack was going to be tough to get through to on this issue, but Crutchie was pretty sure he had Racetrack on his side. Race was popular enough that others would back him, and he would stand up to Jack. As long as Crutchie could prove that he could go back to selling, Jack would be forced to let him.

So. Now he had to work on actually being capable.

Crutchie hadn’t walked anywhere himself in the past days--there was always an abundance of newsies to help him to the washroom, practically carrying him there and definitely carrying him back to bed. It was honestly getting to be pretty annoying--maybe he could start by making it to the washroom by himself.

Standing up would’ve been easier had he eaten that apple, but Crutchie was fairly certain that he had a tooth or two loose and wasn’t in a big hurry to have them drop out. That was the only reason, he told himself. He was fine, just needed to see if those teeth would settle back into place. He didn’t have a problem with food.

His crutch had been propped up against the wall beside the bed for days, cleaned as best as possible but still with a small crack near the end of it. The cushioning had been mostly replaced, the old cloth having come apart completely. Crutchie wasn’t sure who had fixed and cleaned it, and he didn’t much feel like asking. It was selfish, but he didn’t want another person to be indebted to.

Crutchie slid the crutch over to himself and used it to pull himself up, which he soon discovered was exactly what it sounded like: a bad decision. His knees buckled instantly and he couldn’t catch himself before he was lying on the floor, hip and side smarting from the impact.

He took a moment to breathe, clenching and unclenching his fists despite the ache in his fingers. He could do this. He had to do this. Crutchie steeled himself, then used his crutch one-handedly to bring himself to his knees, pushing himself from there up onto a wobbly foot.

His leg was sore from disuse (and probably from that dislocation and various other beatings), but it wasn’t nearly as bad as his chest and back. In fact, now that he was standing even his head felt worse. There was a pounding behind his eyes that made him want to vomit, but he didn’t back down. He couldn’t.

Crutchie propped the crutch under his left arm, biting his lip to stop a noise from escaping as it rubbed against a cut (and so many bruises) on his ribcage. He could do this. If the Refuge hadn’t been shut down, he would still be there, right? He would still be working right now, digging holes or polishing stairs or something equally as gruelling. If he would be doing it in that situation, he should be able to do it here.

Moving the crutch forward made the pain worse, and his side began to sting--it might have split open that cut. Still, Crutchie let it swing forward, then put as much of his weight as he dared on it and hopped.

Sure, it hurt--the padded underarm rest of the crutch dug into the cut and now Crutchie was certain it was bleeding--but he hadn’t fallen. He’d taken a full step with his crutch, all by himself.

Crutchie couldn’t find it within himself to be proud.

Slower than the first, Crutchie took another step, then another. By this point his chest was screaming for proper air, head pounding with each shuffle forward. It was time to turn back, before his brain decided that he wasn’t getting enough oxygen to stand upright. It really did hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. Everything hurt, so very very much.

Three more hops and he was back by the bed. He wanted to just collapse into it, fall face-first onto the blankets, but he knew that would be more pain than it was worth.

Never mind, he was just too tired. Crutchie faceplanted into the bed, screaming through gritted teeth as it jostled his various injuries. He lay there for a few moments, knowing he needed to turn over in order to feel less pressure on his lungs and breathe properly, but not yet wanting to lie on his twinging back.

He’d made six steps, he added up as he situated himself. Six measly steps. It had been about a week since he left the Refuge. A whole week of rest and he could still barely stand, let alone walk. He had to get back out there, pay his way, provide for himself. He hadn’t asked who was paying for his rent and food, but he had a strong notion it was coming from someone whose name sounded a lot like Kack Jelly. 

Jack wasn’t selling near as many papes as he used to, not with the amount of time he was spending back here. According to Katherine, he was getting a job with Pulitzer as an artist of some kind? Crutchie wasn’t quite sure what exactly it was--he’d been pretty feverish at the time--but it probably didn’t pay much, and Jack hadn’t even started the job yet.

Whatever Jack couldn’t come up with, the others would be pooling to make up for. Elmer was probably budgeting it, Crutchie thought absently as he fiddled with the bracelet on his wrist. Elmer was one of the younger kids, but surprisingly good with numbers and calculations and things like that. Elmer working out the money, Race encouraging the others to contribute, Specs and Mush talking Jack into letting them help--Crutchie could see the whole ordeal playing out in his mind’s eye. Jack wouldn’t have been happy, but he also probably was getting low on spare change. They’d all lost a decent bit just by not selling for the few days (or day singular, in Crutchie’s case) that the strike had lasted. If he could get back to work soon, he could stop taking their hard-earned money.

Tomorrow morning, he decided. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t walk today, he would have to tomorrow. He would get up early and make it out of the room before Jack even came down through the window to check on him. That would prove it to everyone that he could at least sell five papers. He was even willing to let Jack go pick them up for him, as long as he could sell.

Before any of that happened, though, Crutchie needed to check up on his bandages. Katherine would kill him if he had bled through them while trying to walk alone. Maybe not yet, though. Maybe he could just close his eyes for a second.

-

Something was . . . off.

Jack hadn’t made it in time to see the headline since before the strike, and in the past week, he’d ran up to Wiesel’s only for Specs to hand him his papers. The nervous looks the boys had shot him each morning should have been enough to tip him off that something wasn't right.

He’d ignored them though, assumed they had to do with his tardiness or the headlines. Now that he knew better, now that he knew something was up, Jack was torn between wishing he’d been on time every other morning and wishing that he’d been late this morning. Despite stopping back at the lodging house to bring Crutchie breakfast, though, he had somehow made it back before Wiesel even started selling.

Today the looks he was getting were downright panicked as the newsies lined up, watching him carefully. The air felt tense, even heavier than normal. Jack got in line with the rest of them, not pushing his way to the front like he normally did. Something was off.

“Jojo,” he said slowly, turning to the kid behind him, “what’s goin’ on?”

“Whaddya mean, Jack?” Jojo replied, false cheer coloring his voice. Jack narrowed his eyes at him. Jojo didn’t waver. Good for him.

Jack looked back to the front, trying to not fidget. He was supposed to be meeting with Pulitzer today, right about the time that he usually checked on Crutchie. Maybe if he bought fewer papes, he could skip over to the lodging house before hiking to Pulitzer’s office? He was supposed to be bringing some examples of his art, so he’d have to stop by the lodging house anyway. He also was supposed to meet with Spot Conlon even later, who was currently handling union business over at The Journal. The eventual hope was that Jack, Davey, and Spot would become a team, three appendages of the same purpose, who could all visit any one of the newspapers and discuss rights and the like. Right now, though, he wasn’t entirely sure what Spot had been telling The Journal. Their meeting this evening would hopefully remedy that.

“Hey, Jack! You’re here early!”

Jack looked up from his thoughts to see Davey grinning as he joined the line, followed by a waving Les. Jack nodded back to them.

“Thought I’d see how badly Race is swindlin’ Snyder,” he said, and a couple of the boys gave forced chuckles. Okay. That was odd.

“Papes for the newsies! Come on, I ain’t got all day!”

Jack began to step forward in line, only for Mush to come out of nowhere and grab him by the arm.

“Hey, whatever happens, I gotcha back,” Mush said. Jack frowned. What was he talking about? “Jus’-- jus’ don’ fight if you can help it.”

Fight?

Jack was beginning to feel like he wasn’t going to like this at all.

As always, his intuition was correct. It wasn’t hard to laugh off Weasel’s snide comments about where he had been and their union, but then Morris Delancey opened his stupid mouth as he was handing Jack his papers.

“Where’s the crip, huh? We was hoping we killed him when Snyder let us at him. You been out mournin’ him?”

All background chatter faltered. At first Jack thought it was just his senses tuning in to Morris and Morris alone, but he realized vaguely that everyone was watching this interaction. The smile slipped from his face as for once, he was speechless. His teeth grounded together as the image of Crutchie screaming, crying for help while the Delanceys beat him into the ground was forced into his head.

Morris noticed, as did Oscar, who stepped forward with a grin. “What?” Oscar asked. “Tough Jack Kelly, gonna cry because the mean Delanceys bashed a poor cripple’s head in?”

Those were fighting words. Oscar knew it, and Jack knew it, and Oscar knew Jack knew it, and Jack knew Oscar knew Jack knew it. Jack couldn’t find it in him to care that he was being goaded--he was seething. Crutchie had come back to the lodging house unconscious and nearly dead, almost unrecognizable and the Delancey brothers had been a part of that. They might have been the ones who made it so painful for Crutchie to breathe, or the ones who hit his head so hard he couldn’t see straight, or the ones who broke his arm, or the ones who left the handprint-shaped bruise on his throat that still hadn’t faded completely--

They were laughing now, saying more vile things that reached Jack’s ears muffled, as if he was underwater. Someone else said something, gripping his arm, but Jack wrenched away from them. He grabbed Morris’s collar, drawing him close.

“You two wanna take that back?” he growled. Morris bared his teeth in a dumb grin.

“Maybe we oughtta go find him, in whatever corner the rat’s crept to ta lick his wounds. Bet he’d squeal just at the sight o’ us. Bet he’d try ta drag himself away. Bet he--”

Jack socked him square in the jaw. There was noise, lots of it, but all he could focus on was pummeling Morris until his now-shocked face was covered in blood. Hands pulled at him, but Jack dove over the counter, papers flying, to land on top of Morris, slamming fist after fist into him. Oscar kicked him hard in the side and Jack took that opportunity to latch onto his leg, pulling him down too. Before he could do any real damage, though, two strong sets of arms were prying him away and pulling him through the mess of newspapers.

“Jackie, Jack, please, let’s just go--”

Jack shoved Davey off of him, trying to shake the others off his back.

“You scared, Morris?” he shouted, voice cracking, struggling with the increasing amount of arms holding him back. “Only brave ‘nough to pick on thems as can’t fight back, huh? Huh!?”

Oscar was helping Morris up, the latter holding a hand to his own nose as it spurted blood. Everyone was yelling, screaming, shoving one another, and Jack found himself being dragged away, even though he was still trying to throw punches and kick out. “Let me go!” he gasped, face burning as red as his sight. “Let me at ‘im--he can’t--he said--!”

Mush and Tommy Boy ignored him, not letting him go until they had gotten him into an alley, surrounded by what seemed like every Manhattan newsie. There they loosened their hold, and Jack jerked away, dragging a hand under his nose as he glared at them all. Some of them had the decency to look ashamed, but most looked completely unrepentant, a few glaring right back.

“Lemme guess, you all’s known about this?” Jack said loudly, glancing from Specs to Race, from Buttons to Elmer. Les looked away.

“Don’t feel bad, Jack,” Jojo pleaded. Jack didn’t even look at him. “Albert tried ta do the same the other day.”

“I ain’t feelin’ bad,” Jack practically bellowed. He kicked the wall of the alley angrily. Still no one looked away. What was wrong with them? Why were they staring at him, some with pity, some with defiance? Why couldn’t they just go about their business and leave him to his?

“Look, Jack--”

“No! No, Racer!” Jack fell to his knees, tearing at his hair. He choked on a lump in his throat and realized there were hot tears rolling down his face. “It ain’t--he--” he took a shuddering breath, his voice cracking-- “why do they gotta hate him so much?”

No one answered. Jack stayed like that for a while, his knees digging into the dirt of the alley, frequently sniffing and rubbing at his face. How could someone be so terrible, that all they lived for was hurting kids who already had it hard enough? They had literally threatened to kill Crutchie, had faked remorse at not finishing him off the first time--

Jack was going to be sick. His stomach flip-flopped, reminding him of how he hadn’t eaten since midday yesterday. How could the others just stand there, while the Delanceys made vile threats toward one of their own, toward Crutchie? They had even known already--why hadn’t they told Jack?

Jack’s stomach twisted again, but before he could toss anything up, there was someone kneeling before him.

Davey wrapped his arms around Jack, pulling him into an awkward, stilted hug. Jack collapsed into the contact, shaking uncontrollably. He just wished everyone else would go. He just wanted everyone to stop staring at him. Davey ran gentle fingers through his hair, hushing him with little “Sh, sh,” noises.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Davey murmured. “Crutchie’s gonna be okay, Jackie. We’re gonna get through this.”

Jack almost choked out a laugh. David’s naivety couldn’t be helped--Crutchie had spent time in the Refuge, days where he was without help or support, growing weaker and weaker with every beating. It had been a good three years since Jack had been in there, and he wasn’t recovered. He wasn’t ever going to recover. How could David say with such certainty that Crutchie would be okay?

“I hope you’re right, Dave,” Jack said instead, voice thick with emotion. He curled his fingers into the stiff fabric of Davey’s vest, swallowing back another round of tears. “I hope you’re right.”

[writingfromkitchenator]

The Demon, The Hunter, and The Halfblood

Masterlist

Crowley x Original Female Character

Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

Series Warnings: A/B/O series, some Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alpha x Omega, obligatory smut warning here (as usual, no under 18′s please, specifics will be within chapter warnings as needed), violence, blood, fluff, angst, major character death, possession, swearing

Chapter 7

Words: 3,238

The four men watched Casey sitting at the table, surrounded by paper and pencils, her tongue out between her teeth as she draws on the paper.

It hadn’t taken her long to wake up properly, or to forget her nightmare, but Crowley was always good at that, he seemed to always be able to settle her down quickly, and she was usually happy to go do something in no time at all.

Bobby lets out a slow breath.  “So, I hate to ask this, but how exactly did she happen?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow.  “The same way those sorts of things normally happen,” Bobby frowns and goes to say something before Crowley cuts him off.  “And hardly appropriate for her to be listening to.  She has only known the best of our relationship, and if we can help it, we want to keep it that way, at least until she can understand properly one day.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” Bobby cleared his throat, glancing at Sam and Dean.  “Although, I’m a little worried that John did the same with those three.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  Dean asked, frowning.

“Madelyn is aware,” Crowley said, ignoring Dean.  “And we have discussed it, but we both agreed it was for the best.  Casey is also incredibly smart and aware of things, so we know she will ask if she ever wants an answer to something.”

“How have you even kept her hidden away so well?”  Sam asked.  “Given everything that’s happened, how has no one gotten wind of her?”

“Daddy?”  Crowley’s answer is cut off as Casey looked at him from the table.

“Yes pumpkin?”  Crowley ignored the discomfort from the others.

“Can I have a hot chocolate?”

“Can you?”

“May I have a hot chocolate please?”  She asked again, smiling at him.

Crowley nodded.  “Of course you can pumpkin.”  He snaps his fingers and a large mug appears on the table next to her, three marshmallows on top.

“Thank you Daddy.”

“You’re welcome,” He watched as she grabs a spoon and instantly eats one of the marshmallows before looking back at the other three. “To answer your question, between Madelyn and I, we have learnt enough to be able to do so.  It’s far from perfect, or easy, and there have been a few incidents, but ones we’ve made short work of.”

The uncomfortableness doesn’t ease.  “Does she know?”

Crowley nodded, but slowly.  “To some extent.”  When the silence continued, he looked between them.  “Is this something you really want to explain to a four year old?”

They all silently agreed that that option wasn’t currently on the table.

“Okay,” Dean rubbed his eyes.  “So, after…that happened, are you saying that you just let her go?”

Crowley smirked, giving a chuckle.  “Of course, I had some…pretty good leverage on her after that, more than enough for her to keep her mouth shut, about both Castiel and I and what we were planning.”

“How did she know?”  Sam asked, frowning.  “You actually told her your plan?”

“At the time she wasn’t going anywhere,” Crowley shrugged. “So I never saw the harm in it, and besides, she kept her word.  You three remained clueless until it was far too late.”

“It certainly explains why we still didn’t see her,” Dean said, irritated.  “At least not until after Cas had taken on all those souls.”

“Yes, having someone else declare themselves as God, does tend to have that effect on someone,” Crowley said.  “Of course that was after we’d discovered a new problem of our own.”

“Why do I have a feeling I know what that was?”  Dean said under his breath.

Crowley went to say something in response, but the hair on the back of his neck rose, drawing his attention just as Casey looked up from the table.

“Mummy?”  She asked, the front door of the house shutting a moment later.

“Grab her.”  Crowley said quickly, getting to his feet as Casey jumped off the chair.  “She doesn’t need to see this.”

Sam quickly scooped Casey into her arms, but they all followed after Crowley outside.  Madelyn’s back was to them, leaning down on her knees, breathing hard, and Crowley hurried to her side.

Madelyn held out a hand as he went to touch her. “Wait.  Give me a moment.”

There was pain in her voice and Casey squirmed in Sam’s arms. “It’s okay, you just have to give her a moment.”

She pouted, but stopped squirming, watching her parents.

Madelyn’s expression was screwed up in pain, her head swimming, but she was still very aware of the others standing there watching. The images burned in her mind, much as they had as she was sleeping, a panic momentarily having overtaken her as she fought herself awake and then desperately needing air.

Forcing air into her lungs, the vision slowly eased, and she could bring herself back to the new problem before her.

She straightened herself out, wiping some of the blood that was dripping from her nose.  “Well, here’s to hoping that that didn’t happen.  Certainly not how I wanted to be woken up.”

Crowley was there, a gentle hand on her arm as she gave him a pained smile.  “I’ll be alright, I’ve had far worse.”

They stared at her when she turned, wiping more blood from her nose, even as Crowley hands her a handkerchief, a tense moment of silence falling.

“You’re getting visions?”  Dean asked, anger in his voice, his gaze boring into Madelyn.

Madelyn tried to shrug it off.  “It happens occasionally, nothing to worry about.”

“Bullshit,” Dean spat.  “Or don’t you think I spent enough time around Sammy to know what that means? Do you have any idea-”

“I do, actually,” She said.  “And to put it for you simply Dean, mostly because I know you will keep arguing if I don’t, I will die if I don’t.”

“Don’t give me that,” Dean growled.  “All of this was bad enough, but now this too.  How far does this go?”

Madelyn raised an eyebrow.  “Dean, have you actually ever known a human to survive giving birth to a half blood?  From any sort of supernatural being?  This just…happened.”

A low growl left Dean, but it wasn’t his gaze that she was avoiding, it was Sam’s.

Sam could read the guilt hidden beneath it all.  “Maddie…”

She glanced at him and wet her lips a little, the guilt becoming even more evident.  “I’m fine Sammy.”

He was having none of it though, his pain echoing hers. “Don’t give me that.  Why didn’t you ever tell me?  Out of all us, don’t you think I would’ve understood?”

Bobby and Dean looked between them, Crowley sighing softly next to her.

“You don’t owe them an explanation love.” He said quietly, just to her.

Madelyn sighed heavily, indecision weighing on her.

“Wait,” Dean said slowly, his frown deepening.  “How long have you been getting visions Maddie?”

“I need to sit,” She said quietly, Crowley’s grip tightening a little on her arm.  “Just…let me sit and…I can explain.”

“Mummy, your head is hurting.”  Casey said, staring at her.

“I’ll be alright Casey,” Madelyn gave her a soft smile.  “Don’t you worry about me.  Let’s head back inside and you go back to your drawing, okay?”

She squirmed in Sam’s grip again though, Sam being forced to put her down, so she can go over to Madelyn, who picked her up.

“Casey…” Crowley sighed, and thinks for a moment.  “I’ll be back shortly love.”

Madelyn nodded, Crowley vanishing, carrying Casey back into the house, the others following, their expressions grim.

Sitting back on the lounge, Madelyn sighs, brushing Casey’s hair with her fingers.  “You’ve been so good through all this.  Whatever am I going to do with you growing up so quick?”

Casey pouts a little.  “I don’t like you in pain.”

“It happens sometimes, no matter how much we don’t want it to.”  Madelyn kissed Casey’s forehead.  “When we’re back at home, we’ll try and sort something out again, okay?  For now, we have to help Uncle Dean.”

This surprised Dean, who earned Casey’s gaze for a moment, slowly nodding.  “Will…that stop him hurting too?”

Madelyn smiled softly.  “Hopefully baby.”

Casey seemed to think this over heavily, holding Madelyn’s gaze, before she sighed, something very reminiscent of Crowley, and nods again, her arms wrapping around Madelyn’s neck.  “Okay.”

“Good girl,” Madelyn then smiled as Crowley reappeared, a bag in hand.  “Now, why don’t you go see what Daddy’s brought you?”

The distraction worked, Casey smiling and climbing from her lap, hurrying over to Crowley, who winked at Madelyn, and crouched down to give her the new toys from the bag.

“Now,” Madelyn said slowly.  “I…get that this is difficult to swallow, all of this, but at this point, what’s done is done.  Be angry at me or whatever, I suppose you have every right to be, but just…let us finish explaining first.”

“Maddie-”

“I’ll get to it Sam,” Madelyn met his gaze.  “I promise.  I’ve only ever told one person about it, and even then that was against my better judgement at the time, it was just a shame that the bastard picked up on it, otherwise I very much would’ve taken it to the grave.”

Briefly, she met Crowley’s gaze, who just rolled his eyes.

“If it’s what I think it is,” Bobby said.  “You’re in deep shit Mads.”

Madelyn chuckled, shaking her head, as Casey gathered her new toys and quickly disappeared into the next room.  Crowley sat next to Madelyn, a hand resting reassuringly on her leg.

“Shall we just start where I left it?”  He asked, although quickly chuckling at Sam and Dean’s looks.  “Don’t worry, I’ll skip the juicy bits.”

“Considering I know you won’t be discreet,” Madelyn said.  “I think that would be best.”

Crowley just smirks at her, and nods.  “As you wish darling.”

‘You fucking claimed me???’

Crowley stared at the message on his phone, his mind reeling for a moment before he registered what it was really saying.  ‘I'm sure you're mistaken.’

‘There's no mistaking this Crowley.’  The picture came through soon after the text and Crowley stared at it for a long moment and there was little doubt that that was a claim mark on her neck, still angry and raw after two weeks.

Something tugged in the back of his mind and before he thought too much if it, his hand reached up to his own neck and finds the very faint outline of teeth.  It had been bothering him for days, or, now that he thought about it, since they'd been together, but he never considered something like this.  He didn’t even recall doing it, and judging by her anger directed at him, neither did she.

‘Well, that complicates things a little.  Looks like you weren’t much better.’

‘A fucking little??? Are you fucking kidding me??? Do you even understand the implications of this?’

‘What you think is bad for you is ten times worse for me, I assure you.  I also don't approve of your tone.’

‘Fuck my tone and fuck you. This is bullshit.  I do not belong to you.  It was bad enough practically being forced to sleep with you.’

Crowley smirked to himself.  ‘We'll see who's saying that when their next heat hits.’

‘Fuck you.  I'll have my fucking angel blade ready.  I will not be some sort of pawn.’

‘Oh? Getting into the kinky stuff already?’

He got no response to that and couldn't help but chuckle, despite knowing that the two of them would have to discuss this properly, no matter how much they didn't want to.

This was not part of the plan.

Nor, was it very good timing, he thought to himself, glancing around at the shitty trailer he’d had to take refuge in.

“Winchester’s.”  He said to himself, taking a drink.  “It always seems to be the Winchester’s.”

Madelyn herself was having a mental crisis, pacing her motel room, her hand constantly finding the mark on her neck, much to her own disgust. She had no idea how something like this could’ve happened, with a demon of all things, and now she had no idea what to do about it.

She didn’t understand how neither of them hadn’t realised.

Crowley had been right, they could completely avoid this, but only until her next heat, where there would only be one person she’d be able to think of now.  It was infuriating to think that she was now stuck like this, and even more infuriating to know that it was her own stubbornness that caused it.

Sighing, she sat on the end of the bed, glancing at his last message and deciding to ignore it.

‘Do you have any suggestions?’

There was a long pause to this, which made her frown, her foot tapping on the floor, not wanting to let her mind get away from her, even as the bite gave another painful throb.

Finally, her phone buzzed with his response.  ‘Oh?  I would recommend something much safer for me for starters.’

It took a moment for her to realise what he was saying, a low growl leaving her.  ‘Fuck off Crowley.  Be serious about this.’

Madelyn knew that he’d be laughing at that, but it just made her grit her teeth more.

‘Well, talking about it in person would be much better to start with.’  He replied.  ‘Would you like to meet somewhere in particular, or should I just come to you?’

She wasn’t having that, so they arranged to meet in a small café the next day.  Madelyn wasn’t overly happy about it, but she figured a public place would at least stop some of the comments she knew were coming her way.

Crowley was waiting for her when she turned up, greeting her with a smirk.  “Wonderful to see you again darling.”

Madelyn huffed as she sat.  “Don’t give me that.  There’s nothing wonderful about this.”

He eyed the scarf around her next, hiding his mark.  He didn’t like it, but he kept that to himself. “Don’t be so down.  I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know that Castiel, or God, as he’s currently calling himself, has informed me he won’t do anything about it.”

“Cas is-”

“I’m sorry,” Dean cut in loudly.  “Cas knew about this?”

Crowley smirked. “Feather’s can actually keep a secret when he wants to, and seeing as he knew how the two of you in particular would react to such news, he knew it was wiser to do so.”

Dean muttered something under his breath, pulling out his phone and sending a message.

“Cas is God?” Madelyn asked.  “What the hell happened?”

Crowley shook his head.  “Hardly the point at the moment.  What is, is that your mark on me was the only thing that saved me from being fried by our “new lord”.”

Madelyn frowned.  “What?”

He tugged at his collar a little, enough to reveal the mark on his own neck.  “Didn’t want to stir up your brothers more than they already are.  We both know what would’ve happened.”

“Yeah,” She said bitterly.  “Which is what we’re meant to be talking about here.”

“In due time love,” Crowley said casually, fixing his collar back up.  “Did you want a drink?  Seems a bit odd to just be sitting here talking.”

With great reluctance, she ordered, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment.

“Now, before we get into the nitty gritty of now,” Crowley said, just as she went to talk.  “I do have a question to ask you.”

“Of course you do.”  Madelyn said, frowning.  “Why can’t things just be simple with you?”

But she quickly realised that this was going to be a serious question, something in his gaze telling her that this was something else.  Tension shot down her spine, but she made no further reaction.

“I couldn’t help but notice,” He said, breaking away from her gaze, stirring a sugar into his coffee.  “In the time between yesterday and today, that there was something different about you, and I’m not just talking about that lovely new mark on you that you are hiding.”

Madelyn shifted uncomfortably, playing with the scarf a little. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, I think you do love,” Crowley looked at her and held her gaze. “See, as I was reflecting on our time together, trying exactly to pinpoint when this lovely claiming happened, which was on the third day, if you were curious, I couldn’t help but think that there was something…unusual about the taste of your blood.”

“I wasn’t curious,” Madelyn said indignantly.  “But thanks for that, I guess.  As for my blood, I wouldn’t have a clue.”

But Crowley’s gaze was piercing, seeing straight through the lie, even as he kept his expression passive.  “It’s faint, but it’s there.  There’s demon in you Madelyn.”

“No,” Bobby said loudly. “Don’t you dare do that to us Mads.”

Madelyn looked at Bobby guiltily.  “I’m sorry Bobby, I am.  I never told anyone because I never thought anyone would believe me.  For a long time I’d even convinced myself that it was a bad dream, at least until Sam started to go through some things.”

“So John didn’t even know?” He asked angrily and Madelyn shook her head, causing him to curse.  “How did this happen?”

Crowley gave her leg a gentle squeeze.

Madelyn sighed.  “When Sammy was born, I was fascinated, as most brothers and sisters are, so I would often sneak into his room after we were meant to be in bed.”

A silence followed as the three of them realised what this meant.

Sam swallowed.  “So…you were there?”

She nodded.  “Yeah, I was there.”

That hung heavily in the room for a moment.

Dean's anger broke through first.  “You saw Mum die, and you never thought to fucking tell us?”

“Do you think I even really understood it at the time?”  Madelyn asked, her voice quiet.  “Any of it for that matter?  I've dealt with this on my own for years Dean.  With everything else we've been through, could you have really dealt with that too?”

“You had no right to keep that from us Maddie,” Dean growled. “From Dad least of all!”

She chuckled and shook her head.  “Yes, I'm sure he would've appreciated having his heart broken again, and then to have the extra knowledge on top of what he worked out about Sam? He didn't need that Dean.”

“Is that why Azazel could possess you so easily?” He asked.

“Yes,” Crowley answered for her, a warning tone in his voice.  “And if you don't back down Dean, you and I are going to have an issue.”

“It's alright Crowley,” Madelyn said softly.  “He is allowed to be angry.  I always knew they would be.”

“This is...a lot Maddie,” Sam said as Dean growled, agitatedly getting up.  “The implications of it...”

“I wasn't the same as you Sam,” Madelyn said.  “I was...an experiment.  He found it most amusing.”

Crowley glanced at her, knowing how hard this was, as much as he'd never said anything at the time. As the two of them got to know each other, he saw that weight on her shoulders, and he wished that there was something he could do to ease it.

“Okay Mads,” Bobby said slowly, his voice passive.  “What exactly has this meant for you?”

[thegc4life]

Do you any other Hawks fic ideas you'd like to write? Or is Hawks-sensei all you've got on your mind right now?

Wyv. You know not what you ask. I have to put them in categories, Wyv. Categories.

Kid!Hawks:

-Kid!Hawks growing up with the LOV (both as a permanent thing and various ridiculous drabbles) This involves Unwilling Big Brother Shigaraki, scarily willing Big SisterToga who knows all the coolest knife tricks, Best Uncle Twice who sometimes on his real good days doubles as temporary Dad, the Dad who teaches you how to hot wire cars and laugh people’s money straight out of their wallets Compress, mother-henning can-not-leave-you-alone-for-one-god-damn-minute Spinner, True Mom Kurogiri, Big Sis Mag who seems to be the only actual one that realizes that children need to sleep at some point for the love of god, extremely confused but horrifically soft Dabi who may or may not eventually turn his whole life around because of this feathered idiot that needs someone to make sure he lives a happy life whether it be a permanent shrinking or not. Oh, and Machia. The best Mountain Monster Dog brother (?) a boy could ask for.

-Kid!Hawks with UA (staff edition) also both in temporary and permanent circumstances. Temporary is already in progress. Permanent? Oh boy, permanent world. They raise him within UA so as to keep him from the Commission. Hawks often sits in on their classes with coloring books, picture books, or just to sit there and watch them. He is very smart. He picks up on things, but mostly he just likes being around all the staff. He picks a new person to sleep with every week because some of them have really shitty sleep schedules and even as a kid he knows they would feel bad keeping him up, thus forcing them to go to bed through good-person guilt so he tragets the sleepiest looking people for the week (hint: Aizawa gets picked a lot, and even if he’s not sleep deprived Hawks would pick him because he adores his grumpy cat Dad). Thirteen does crafts with him all the time. She watches every kid show and gets really into it with him. Hawks and Mic make the meals and they sing the entire time. They sing together throughout the day. Hawks will chirp out a line of notes and out of nowhere Hizashi will burst in to sing the lyrics. Midnight reads him bedtime stories cause her voices are the best. She does his nails and lets him do hers. He practices on the UA students to surprise her with new designs (the students fall over their own feet to offer to be his test subject). Snipe does little challenges with him. Things that, while technically helping him get used to controlling his quirk, are more fun than anything else because Hawks enjoys using his feathers in games. Hawks dresses up like a cowboy for an entire month, quoting old western movies and driving everyone but a very proud Snipe up the wall. Hound Dog and Hawks go on walks together ALL THE TIME. They explore the woods around UA and Hound Dog tells Cementoss to change up the geography every once in a while so they have something new to explore. He teaches Hawks how to go camping and Hawks fricken adores him and is always on his shoulders just kicking his feet or napping in Hound Dogs hair. Ectoplasm is Hawks favorite person to play any kind of tag based game because the others are too easy to catch with his feathers. But with Ectoplasm and all his clones? hawks goes nuts. Ectoplasm cried once when Hawks asked Aizawa for peg legs for Halloween and when someone asks him if he wants to be a pirate he says no because he wants to be a super cool hero like Ecto for Halloween. No one will be as cool as him. Hawks fricken loves Vlad. Like, adores him. Whenever Vlad is in the room Hawks will just go hang off his shoulders, or tuck under his arms with a book to read, or just lean against him. He has a little stuffed bull dog that has Vlad’s exact resting bitch face and carries it with him every time he leaves the dorm because he feels safer with it. He goes to Vlad when he’s injured because Vlad just takes care of it, gives him a hug, and doesn’t tell him to be more careful. Just asks if Hawks learned something and moves on. Hawks and Nezu are penpals. They see eachother every single day, but they are penpals. Hawks grows up with the most beautiful calligraphy handwriting because he keeps trying to out-do Nezu’s. He absolutely tattles on every single teacher in these letters, giving Nezu years worth of blackmail. Hawks thinks Nezu is a stuffed animal until he is fourteen because Nezu never fesses up. He just thinks the staff is even cooler for letting a stuffed animal run the place. He only ever cries around Nezu.

-Kid!Hawks UA(Student edition): So many. There’s lines I’ve written where they’re still in school when Hawks is kidified. When they’re already pros. In Canon, in Hawks-sensei, I even a small blurb sentence of Deku running a preschool that Hawks gets put into in an AU with quirks still. I can’t even... there’s too many students, cause I’d do all 1-A and 1-B. My favorite one to randomly wake up in a panick and write about though is the one where it’s Hawks-sensei verse based and Kid!Hawks gets taken in by the Monoma family. Rui and Eiko are older and Monoma is a pro-hero by then. The pure amount of fluff, sass, and Hawks spoiling that will happen. Big Brother Rui and Bigger Sister Eiko.  I think about this one a lot.

-I’m currently (slowly but progressing) writing a gift for @saltwater-sweets where Kid!Hawks is taken in by the Uraraka family. Like, he’s not even shrunk in this one. Uraraka’s newlywed parents were involved in the accident he first saved people in and they found him before the Commission. They realized his homelife situation and opened their home to him and now he is Uraraka’s big brother and that one line I threw out there? About him being a global superpower in household moving? Teaming up with Uraraka for that? Yeah.

-Kid!League of Villains and adult Hawks. Yeah, you heard me. They all get shrunk instead of him. And he can’t just... turn them in. They’re kids. They haven’t done any of the crimes their older counterparts have. And if it’s a permanent thing? They stay kids? Then he has a chance to really, truly save them. To give them the happy lives stolen from them. The Commission doesn’t like that. So Hawks takes them and runs. Dabi can be an adult too, I guess, if that’s the ship or something, but I just really wanna write Kid!LOV and Dad!Hawks.

-Kid!Aizawa. Dad!Hawks. Same concept. Beautiful dream. Need I say more.

-Kid!Hawks, Best Jeanist

-Kid!Hawks Gang Orca

-Kid!Hawks RUMI!!

Vigilante Hawks:

- Raven was born and I dived down that rabbit hole so fast I went back in time. Raven. But from a way earlier age. Those guys mugging Hawks when he was fifteen? The spark. Hawks stayed on the streets, he never went back, and he learned some things. He got some freedom, learned some shit, and realized that hero society was pretty fucked up. Shigaraki starts the LOV up and realizes there’s this whole underground community he was never aware of that Hawks has been building for years. It’s great.

-Hawks was never found by the Commission so he was never ‘Hawks’. His Dad raised him as a criminal but Hawks, with his little heart of gold, took every chance he could to make something good out of the bad deeds. Then he got old enough and he took full control. You ever seen the Levi OVA’s of Attack on Titan? Where he’s walking down the stairs and you realize every single person there is part of a huge ass gang of awesome with Levi at the head? That. THAT.

-Hawks loses his shit in Canon and goes completely AWOL. full Feral. He sees the problems, and he is prepared to do whatever it takes get rid of them. Whatever it takes.

AU Hawks

-Horribly injured, recently retired at the ripe old age of 23, and looking for something to save him from depression. Hawks meets Todoroki Fuyumi who gets him a job at her school. This one makes my brain happy.

-Takami Keigo and Todoroki Natsuo meet in college, graduate together, join the same hospital, and open one as partners as soon as they can. Ship or no ship, they go through their entire lives together. (I just... I really like the Todoroki sibs, okay?)

-Takami Keigo was born a lot earlier. So much, earlier, in fact that he is classmates with this overly optimistic ball of light named Yagi Toshinori and the grumpy ball of flame Todoroki Enji. Big Three anyone? Also, everyone needs a dumb smart birb to keep them sane. Hawks loves his friends, and he’ll kick anyone’s ass that tries to hurt them be it physically, mentally, or emotionally. Also, he meets Nana. 

-I LOVE THE IMAGINARY KAMAKIRI FAMILY DYNAMIC OKAY?! literally anything with Hawks involved in their lives, okay?! I did not expect to spiral so hard when I made up Hideo and his relationship with Kamakiri but my god did I spiral! I just really love them!

-I’m a sucker for the classics. Tattoo/flower. Coffee shop. College. Roommates. Love. 

- (she made me write this) a story surrounding the amazing love story of my sister and Iida Tenya with Aizawa crashes the wedding even though he was invited and Mirio is her maid of honor, with Eri as the ring bearer, and All Might is the flower girl. Twice is the officiator. Uraraka releases a flock of fake pigeons (not real ones cause they don’t deserve that). Oh, and everyone else is there too, I guess. Except for Mineta. Cause he’s in jail.

Right now, at this very moment, I can not for the life of me think of any others but I KNOW there’s at least seven more that I just can’t remember because my brain is work dead. Wyv. @wyvernspirit do you see what you’ve opened here? Close the box! Close it before it’s too late! There is always more! I am never without MORE ideas!

[strawberrysoup]

Yes, Sheriff || Chapter 1

Sheriff Carol Danvers takes her job of protecting the citizens of her small town very seriously — there are just some that she cares about more than others. A lot more, in fact, and she will take care of her sweet baby girl whether she likes it or not. 

relationship: Carol Danvers/Reader rating: Explicit chapters: 1/? length: 5,413 warnings: Dark Carol Danvers, coercion, manipulation, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat  additional warnings: open the read more and CTRL + F, search “content warnings” to skip to detailed trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter. 

This is my entry for searchforanotherway’s Onyx Night Challenge! My plan is for this story to span several chapters, so it certainly won’t be finished by the deadline of January 11th but I wanted to try and write a fic longer than just a oneshot. That being said this chapter can stand alone and doesn’t have to be read in conjunction with other chapters for plot coherency or effect. Oh, also please keep in mind that I’ve never written a reader insert before, so go easy on me if anything seems off! 

Being the sheriff of a very small town and the rather empty surrounding county came with some very particular challenges Carol hadn’t necessarily expected when she signed on. Burgess was mostly concentrated in a small area where the main town was built, about three or four streets worth of businesses. Beyond that were what they jokingly referred to within the department as the Suburbs, mostly cute little farmhouses with plenty of space in between. Of course, the distance between plots hadn’t done them any good when the fire broke out about 6 years ago, before Carol signed on with the department, and had taken out 12 houses. 36 people had died, the fire was so hot and spread so fast through the 100 year old homes the volunteer fire department had barely been able to keep it from jumping the road. 

Y/N’s parents, her only family, had been 2 of the casualties. She would’ve been too, had she not been spending the night at a friends house on the other side of the Suburbs. From what Carol had been able to gather, the young woman had just graduated from getting her Masters degree in library sciences and had intended to only move back home for a little while before moving to the city permanently. The death of her parents had destroyed many of her plans, especially when she had to deal with so much fallout from the insurance companies and lawyers. Luckily her family had owned the land her house sat on, the money from the home insurance had come through and y/n inherited everything. She’d rebuilt the house, smaller but just as old fashioned in design, and taken a job as the town’s librarian, enabling the previous one to retire (the woman had been older, didn’t actually have the education necessary to be a librarian and was happy to step aside so sweet little y/n could have the position). 

Most of the town seemed to have a soft spot for y/n. When Carol first started, the entire population had been leery of her. She’d expected it, luckily, and wasn’t shocked by the reserved nature of the people she served. She was relatively shocked when they started accepting her presence, their topics of conversation ranging from now the town fair is very important around here so you need to handle it correctly—those townies will run amok if you’re not careful to do you think you could drive past the library this evening while y/n walks to her car? I get so worried when she’s out late like that with no one around. It was consistent that the townsfolk would find a way to wriggle y/n into conversation but they didn’t seem to know it was a collective issue; every person who asked her devote some extra attention to the young woman did so covertly, as if to prevent anyone from knowing. It was endearing and cute and Carol honestly didn’t have much to do most of the time so she didn’t mind the little side tasks. 

The small town and county police department was made up of 90% locals who were happy to respond to most calls. They mostly dealt with domestics and property violations, occasionally some sort of larceny or robbery or breaking and entering calls. Wilson and Barnes were trained paramedics and dealt with the medical calls, luckily, although when she rolled into town Carol had forced all of her deputies to get certified in multiple emergency life saving techniques. The nearest ambulance dispatch was an hour away and she was baffled the former Sheriff hadn’t enforced even basic CPR certifications. Rogers, one of her two deputies, handled most of the domestics with Carol as his back up if necessary (it was almost never necessary, even if Rogers didn’t have that disarming Good Ol’ Boy Charm he had biceps as wide as y/n’s thighs and could handle most things on his own). Rhodes, her second deputy, was good for dealing with bored teenagers who liked to play at crime, breaking and entering and minor burglary, along with trespassing. Property violations and agricultural issues were big in a town like Burgess too, but Odinson (another transplant like herself) had grown up in an even tinier town devoted to farming and could handle such problems in his sleep. Pietro, the youngest and greenest in the department, handled what she considered the beat; traffic and parking violations, jaywalking that caused endangerment, vandalism, etc. Most of what came down on Carol’s shoulders were the big issues—the small amount of drug situations they dealt with, any prostitution or assaults. The other officers said they liked her to be open for those sorts of calls, which left her driving around on patrol at least 50% of the time with nothing to do. 

It gave her more time to talk to locals than she expected, more time to subtly watch y/n than she could’ve ever anticipated. The more she watched her, the bigger Carol’s problem became; y/n was lovely and sweet and beautiful and Carol was finding that she had a crush on the young woman. Well, it might’ve started as a crush. Carol found herself very quickly falling down a rabbit hole of obsession and honestly wasn’t all that mad about it—the longer she watched, the more she realized how perfect y/n was, in general and for her. 

Carol had embraced her bisexuality at a young age, had dated men and women over the years but never really found anyone to her liking. She had an incredibly dominant personality, both in general and in the bedroom and finding someone willing to unconditionally follow direction was hard. Moving to a small town had seemed like a sexual death sentence in all honesty, until she came across y/n. She was so small and demure, averted her eyes and blushed constantly under Carol’s strong gaze and said yes Sheriff when prompted with the most precious drawl. Carol could look down her nose at the woman, could imagine the way she’d feel slotted right against her chest with her head tucked perfectly under her chin, knew that y/n was just short enough that she’d have to stand on her tiptoes when Carol put her thigh right between those pretty legs and made her work for her orgasm, those tiptoes slipping for purchase while her pussy ground hard into her thigh.

It had gotten harder and harder to ignore, the all too carnal desires she had for the young woman and she was relieved when she decided there was no reason to ignore them. There was no reason not to take y/n as her own— she’d take good care of her, in every way, and love her so deeply that she’d never dream of anything else, never want anyone else. Carol was meticulous and careful and manipulative, even if she pretended not to be. It wouldn’t be hard to get her right where she wanted her. 

The spark plugs in the glove box of her cruiser were a testament to that. It had been easily to quickly take them after the sun had gone down, Carol knew for a fact there weren’t security cameras anywhere nearby and there was no one around to see (usually the library was rather busy right up until close, but most of the population was at the high school football game a town over). Several of her officers were there too, Carol correctly assuming that it would be a slow night for calls. Peter Parker had offered to take the dispatch shift and run the receptionist desk so that the usual evening dispatcher, Wanda could attend the game too. 

Carol sat straighter in her seat as y/n emerged from the library, taking the time to carefully lock the doors—first the door that led straight to the her help desk and then the double doors that opened into the main library, the entrances separated by a wall between the doors and a small hallway that allowed y/n a little bit of privacy in her “office” unless someone needed extra assistance. The keys went into her purse, exchanged for her car keys with a generous pause that made Carol cringe slightly; she wished y/n would have her keys ready and out when she left the building, the long hesitation while she stood alone in the dark was ample opportunity for a mugging or abduction. She’d impress the importance of being prepared and quick once she had an opportunity that wouldn’t betray the fact she’d been watching her from afar. 

There was another uncomfortably long pause as she unlocked her car and climbed in, leaving the door open for an extended time while she settled and Carol was sure y/n didn’t lock the doors even once it was closed. It would evidently be a rather long conversation regarding safety. Carol smiled when the car didn’t start after several minutes and turned up her radio. Most of the townsfolk would call the non emergency line at the station when they had car troubles and Carol was nearly positive y/n would do the same. It took about five minutes give or take for her radio to crackle to life, Peter’s voice coming through. 

“Sheriff, Rhodey, are either of you near the library? Y/n just called in from the parking lot, she just finished closing up the building and can’t get her car to start." 

"I’m just across the street, actually— Coach Steveson asked me to make sure y/n got home alright since he figured nobody would be around because of the game,” it was true, Carol regularly got requests from different citizens asking her or the other officers to check in on people and y/n was one of the top requests, obviously, because everyone knew she was alone, “tell her to wait in her car, I’ll be over in just a second." 

"Will do, Sheriff!” There was a click and crackle on the radio and Carol smiled; Peter made an excellent receptionist but his dispatch skills could use some work and professionalism, not that she really minded the candor.

She cranked her car on and reached into the glovebox to retrieve the spark plugs she’d grabbed earlier, glancing at herself carefully in the rearview mirror. Her hair was pulled back to show off her undercut, the front in a twist away from her face with some strands having managed to escape over the course of the day. Y/n liked the undercut, evidenced by how flustered the poor thing got the first day she saw it (actually that was the day Carol realized y/n wasn’t straight, the poor thing had been so caught off guard she’d stuttered and blushed and had 100% rubbed her pretty thighs together under her skirt).

She quickly popped across the street, spark plugs tucked discreetly into her pants pocket and pulled up beside y/n’s car. The door opened immediately, much to Carol’s displeasure; she was sure Peter relayed the message that y/n was to stay in her car. The order was likely too ambiguous and Carol would be more careful in the future. 

“I’m so sorry to bother you Sheriff,” y/n started immediately as Carol exited her cruiser, “I hate to call but my car won’t start, I could pop the hood but I have no idea what I’m looking for." 

She looked embarrassed, hands twisting together at her waist and Carol had to carefully arrange her features to prevent her excitement from showing, her demure little baby was so cute, "that’s alright y/n, I always want you to call if you need help. How about you get back in and pop the hood for me, I’ll take a look." 

Y/n did so quickly before joining Carol at the front of the car, much to her amusement, "you go ahead and sit down, sweetheart, I might want you to try cranking the engine, okay? I’ll tell you when." 

The pet name was easy to pass under y/n’s radar, the endearments a regular part of the small town life. Even Carol got called sweetheart and honey on a regular basis, but it didn’t stop y/n from blushing darkly all the way down to her chest. Carol carefully kept her eyes from trailing down the neckline of y/n’s sensible tank top (it was hot as hell outside and paired with a long, flowy skirt Carol was sure anyone would think it professional enough for a small town librarian) despite the fact she desperately wanted to know if the redness spread all the way to her tits. The young woman did as directed, quickly hustling around to sit in the driver’s seat with the door open. 

It was easy to quickly reattach the spark plugs, just so that when the mechanic showed up in the morning they wouldn’t be suspiciously missing. She didn’t bother disconnecting anything else, instead staying ducked under the hood long enough to justify a good look around before standing straight and closing it. 

"There must be something going on below the surface honey, everything up here looks fine,” she stated, walking around to meet y/n as she stood up, “why don’t I give you a ride and I’ll call Tony out in the morning to take a look." 

There was a torn look on y/n’s face at the suggestion and Carol watched the gears turn in her head; leaving her car overnight in the lot wasn’t the problem, no one would tow it or anything, the problem would come in the morning when she needed to get back to the library to open. The blonde had already considered all of the options though and smiled sweetly when y/n hesitated. 

"I’m just about to get off for the night anyway, we could swing by your place and grab some of your clothes and you can stay the night at mine, I can drop you over here on my way in,” she offered, enjoying the flustered way that y/n shifted on her feet, “I guess I could just drive around to come pick you up at your place before I start my shift…" 

The sheer thought of inconveniencing the town Sheriff made y/n look like she might cry and she quickly shook her head, "no, no I can stay over tonight. I’d hate to make you go out of your way—no, thank you so much for the offer, it’s so kind thank you." 

Y/n wouldn’t look up from her feet but Carol didn’t push, couldn’t push quite yet. Instead she encouraged y/n to grab her purse and held the door of the passenger seat open while the smaller woman slipped inside. She’d call Tony in the morning, say she couldn’t find anything wrong with the car but would you please take a look for y/n’s peace of mind. The mechanic would surely be happy to help and would make up some excuse for why the car hadn’t started so y/n wouldn’t get embarrassed over not being able to properly start her car. 

The ride to y/n’s house only took about five minutes and she was quick to collect an overnight bag before running back out to the cruiser. Carol kept a very careful eye on her as she continued on to her own home, a good fifteen minutes further into the suburbs. She could tell y/n was confused, if Carol’s house was further than hers why couldn’t she stay at her own home overnight? It would’ve been on the Sheriff’s way into town, just a quick stop. But y/n was a good girl and never questioned those she considered superiors, instead just sitting in vague discomfort as they got farther and farther from her home. 

Carol lived on what was considered the very edge of town, as a new addition to the population it was hard to get a place closer, but she appreciated the the isolation. Y/n waited until Carol opened her car door to do the same, shuffling nervously along behind her up the steps. The house wasn’t as nice as the one y/n had built but it was quaint and old and smelled like all of the old houses that had survived the fire. 

"Here we go,” Carol unlocked the door and waived y/n inside with a pleasant smile, “I left dinner in a slow cooker this morning, give me just a minute to change and I’ll get it all together." 

"Oh, Sheriff, I couldn't—" 

"Of course you can sweetheart, I’d be insulted if you didn’t,” she joked with a smile, “you can put your stuff where ever, make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back." 

Carol could tell y/n had been expecting her to show her to a bedroom and pressed her lips together; y/n would be sleeping in her bed by the end of the night but the poor thing didn’t know that and wouldn’t know what to do if Carol instructed her to put her things in there. She changed quickly, into a pair of tight joggers and a slightly cropped workout top that showed her abs—she wanted to see what shade of red y/n’s skin would turn at the sight. Plus, she had aspirations of y/n riding the hard planes of her abdomen until she came and a short shirt would make that easier if she could make it happen, no matter how far fetched the hope. 

Y/n’s eyes immediately dropped to the exposed skin when Carol returned and the blonde wanted to coo her face turned so red, it was so cute, her baby was so precious. She carefully pretended not to notice the staring, crossing into the kitchen quickly and checking on the crock pot of spicy pulled pork. 

"I could put this over a salad for you or put it on a roll, which do you prefer?” She turned back just in time to see y/n’s eyes snap up from where they’d been locked on her ass and was unable to hide the that came over her features; teasing her at this point would be a mistake, but it was so hard not to, “come over here and I’ll make you a plate honey." 

Y/n shuffled over, red faced and very obviously embarrassed to have been caught checking out the ass of the local sheriff, "just-just a sandwich, please." 

Carol made sure to pull from the bottom of the pot, where the meat would be the spiciest for y/n’s sandwich before handing her the plate and grabbing a bag of chips to go with it from the pantry. Y/n dutifully went to go sit at the table, waiting patiently while Carol fixed herself both a sandwich and a salad. She didn’t bother to ask if y/n drank, pouring them both a large glass of the strongest red wine she currently had in the house (bought specifically for this occasion) and setting one down in front of y/n. 

"This is my favourite wine,” she stated, looking to subtly manipulate y/n’s coming actions, “it’s a bit expensive but I haven’t had such lovely company over in a minute, might as well share it." 

The wine was already poured, Carol’s favourite, and it was expensive; there was no way y/n would reject it now. The food was spicy, she’d likely drink the entire glass, and with her smaller stature would certainly not be entirely herself afterwards. And poor y/n played right into her hands, following the script Carol had written in her head to a T. She got flirtier as the meal progressed, as her wine disappeared, responding to Carol’s carefully probing words beautifully. The blonde was two seconds from stealing her off her chair to sit her right on her lap when y/n gave a little sigh. 

"I think I drank a little more than I meant to,” the words were punctuated by a little hiccup and Carol cooed in response, immediately standing when y/n pressed to her feet. 

She didn’t give the shorter woman time to move too far, carefully latching an arm around her waist and drawing her in close, her other hand catching y/n’s cheek gently to direct her gaze, “that’s okay, baby, I’ll take care of you." 

Y/n took just a second longer to process than it usually would’ve taken before her cheeks darkened, her lips parting in surprise, "O-oh, I—" 

Carol hushed her gently, her lips finding purchase against y/n’s jaw and running the length of her cheek to her ear, "you’re so shy for me baby girl, it’s so precious. I’ve always wondered if that blush goes all the way to your tits." 

The tank top came off easily, y/n squeaking in shock but not fast enough to prevent her bra from following. Carol’s hands grasped her hips and she walked the smaller woman backwards until she could lift her to sit on the counter, her lips pressed hungrily against y/n’s own. Her skirt lifted easily until the fabric bunched at her waist and Carol pressed herself firmly between y/n’s thighs, happy for the extra bit of height. She wished she’d put on a strap on after changing, she could’ve slipped right into y/n’s pussy so easily at this angle.

"Wait-wait, Carol—Sh-Sheriff!" 

"You’ll feel so good after this,” Carol’s lips trailed down her cheek, to her neck and down to her pretty tits, lapping at her nipple gently, “just let me…" 

Her lips engulfed one of y/n’s nipples and she gave a deep, languid suck while the young woman on the counter writhed. One hand kept purchase on y/n’s back, a careful but firm hold to prevent her from squirming away while the other trailed down to her panty covered pussy. She was wet, a spot beginning to form on the fabric and Carol grinned. Her teeth scraped over y/n’s nipple, drawing a sharp cry from her and quickly slipped her fingers up into her wet cunt while she was distracted. Although it didn’t take long for her baby to notice the intrusion, her legs shifting and her thighs attempting to close even as Carol stood between them.

"You’re so wet, baby girl,” she cooed darkly, watching y/n’s face coloured with humiliation, “you want this so bad, don’t you? You want me to make you cum? Huh? On my fingers or my tongue?" 

"N-no, wait,” her head spun as she reached down, grabbing Carol’s wrist in a weak attempt to keep her fingers from pumping into her cunt, “Carol, I don't—" 

"When we’re fucking you call me Sheriff or Sir, do you understand?” Her thumb gave a rough pass over y/n’s clit and she jumped, a short whine escaping her even as her eyes started to shine with tears, “tell me you understand, y/n." 

"Y-yes sir,” she hiccups slightly but was rewarded with Carol’s lips returning to her nipple, tongue laving over her sensitive bud forcefully enough that y/n tried to wiggle away. 

Carol immediately withdrew her hand from y/n’s pussy and slapped her cunt hard through the fabric of her panties, earning a yelp and the blonde was forced to hold her hip tightly in place with the other hand, “you don’t try to get away from me baby, not ever." 

It was easy to lift y/n over her shoulder, her baby screeching in shock as she was forced to hang upside down. The walk to her bedroom was quick and she tossed y/n onto the bed without hesitation, absently deciding to add more weight to her workouts— she liked manhandling her baby girl and some extra training might help it go smoother, especially if y/n decided to be naughty and needed a bit of extra restraining. 

Y/n was still dizzy from the ride, too shocked to attempt to slip off the bed and simply not coordinated enough to try anything clever. Carol caught the edge of her toy box with her toe and dragged it over to the edge of the bed for easy access, slipping onto the mattress and covering y/n’s small body with hers. She quickly returned her mouth to the perky tits beneath her, lips latching onto the under stimulated nipple and sucking hard. Y/n whined him response, chest rising with each hard tug in attempts to lessen the pressure.

"I’m glad your pussy’s so wet,” Carol murmured after releasing the abused nipple with a pop, hand reaching over the edge of the bed to dig one of her smaller strap ons out of the box, “I don’t know if I have any lube." 

She whipped her top off quickly after finding the one she wanted, followed by her pants. Forgoing underwear had been convenient and she quickly worked to attach the strap on around her waist. The moment y/n realized what was happening, her face scrunched and the tears came back with a vengeance. The no trying to run away rule was obviously immediately forgotten as she scrambled for purchase on the bed, her coordination nonexistent after the strong wine. Carol reached out and easily flipped her onto her stomach, subduing her flailing limbs with ease.

"What did I say about trying to get away from me baby?” Carol yanked the skirt down over her legs, catching the waistband of her panties in the same tug and shucked both articles across the room, “now I’ve gotta punish you before I fuck you, naughty girl." 

"N-No, no! Wha—" 

Carol slapped her hand down on y/n’s ass with enough force to make her shriek, the sound lighting the blonde’s pussy up like nobody’s business. She could feel her wetness dripping, the press of the strap on over her clit delicious. When she finished up the spanking, leaving her pretty ass red and raw and painful, Carol flipped y/n onto her back once more. The yelp she let out made the blonde smile, knowing that even the soft fabric of her sheets would feel like sandpaper at the moment. 

"Awe, don’t cry baby, shhh,” Carol stretched out above her, letting the cock of her strap on drag against y/n’s wet little cunt in the process and wiped the tears away from her cheeks, “shhh, be a good girl now. You’re gonna take my cock so well, won’t you baby girl?" 

"P-please, I don't—" 

"You don’t what, baby girl? You don’t wanna take my piece?” Carol’s hand immediately found her wet pussy, scooping a good amount of arousal onto her fingers before bringing it back up to smear the moisture across y/n’s lips and cheeks, “this greedy little cunt disagrees. It wants my cock bad baby and who am I to deny this pretty pussy anything." 

The head of the strapon nudged between y/n’s pussy lips, drawing a loud whine. Her knees drew up as Carol pressed deeper and deeper and the blonde was quick to spread her thighs wide, the muscles jumping as she pressed those pretty thighs flat to the mattress. When Carol finally bottomed out, y/n was whining and squirming, hands pressed against her taut abs. The movement chafed her raw ass against the sheets and the blonde knew the pain must’ve been a sharp burn.

"Is it a lot baby?” The blonde panted slightly, clit well stimulated by the strap on, “is that a lot for your little cunny? This is one of the small ones baby girl, you better get used to the stretch." 

Carol withdrew and thrust in deeply before y/n could speak, repeating the motion roughly several times before she fell into rhythm pounding away at her pussy. Y/n wailed, her ass dragging brutally over the sheets with each sharp thrust and igniting a truly awful burn. The squelch of her pussy was obscene though and Carol shivered at the sound—she was so wet it was dripping out of her pussy, sliding down her ass crack and soaking into the bedsheets. Her mind might not’ve been entirely on board but her cunt was 100% involved, ready, and excited for the pounding even as her burning ass was rubbed raw by the bedding and the constant, torturous movement. 

"God your pussys ruining my sheets baby,” she slapped at y/n’s clit several times in rapid succession, drawing a loud wail from her lips, “your cunts so excited to be fucked, so fucking wet its gushing. You’re gonna be a good girl and cum for me, aren’t you? Cum on my cock baby girl, cum on it!" 

Y/n wailed in response, her little body pulling tight for several seconds before she came so hard her eyes rolled back and she shook. Carol fucked her through it with force, only stopping when the desperation for her own orgasm set in. She pulled her cock from y/n’s gaping pussy and removed the strap, dropping it over the side of the bed as she moved up her baby girl’s body until her cunt was positioned over that little gasping mouth. 

"Mouth open, baby girl,” she ordered, hands digging into her hair to angle her chin up, “you’re gonna eat my pussy until I cum." 

A small noise escaped y/n, some cute little grunting whine as Carol flattened her cunt over her mouth and thrust her hips forward. The drag was lovely, y/n’s open mouth warm and wet against her sopping pussy lips. 

"Use your tongue,” she ordered with a small gasp, feeling her orgasm getting closer as her hand closed over the back of y/n’s head to keep her mouth pressed firmly against against her cunt, hips rolling swiftly back and forth as she chased her own end.

She moaned loudly when little kitten licks teased her lower lips, concentrating the movement of her hips to press her clit against y/n’s tongue. The drag was wonderful, a loud cry escaped her lips as she started to cum and she doubled her efforts, fucking y/n’s face brutally into the mattress until it abated. She let her weight rest suffocatingly over y/n’s mouth and nose for several seconds, lifting up just before she could start to panic. 

“God that was even better than I could’ve imagined, you’re so good for me baby girl,” Carol slipped down her prone form, kissing her soundly but gently and licking the cum and arousal from her shell shocked face, “fuck, I knew you’d be perfect." 

Y/n looked up at the blonde with big, wet eyes even as Carol continued to whisper praises against her lips. A hand had returned to her sopping pussy, Carol collecting her cum with taunting fingers before swiping the residual from her own messy cunt as well, bringing it up to y/n’s mouth. When her baby girl’s lips didn’t open she grabbed her jaw, squeezing with increasing pressure until her mouth opened and she was able to shovel the mix of their cum into her mouth. 

"Swallow it down baby girl,” Carol cooed, hand sealing over y/n’s nose and mouth tightly until her throat visibly worked several times to swallow the load, “so good, so precious sweet girl." 

The blonde’s eyes glanced to the bedside table and she sighed lightly, ignoring the huge wet spot on the bed beneath y/n and lying to her left on the mattress. She easily pulled the smaller woman on top of her, y/n’s little waist cushioned between her sticky thighs and her head rested perfectly between Carol’s breasts. She could see the bright red, chafed skin from her position and smiled darkly—y/n would feel it for days, everytime she sat would be a reminder. 

"It’s gotten late baby, we should go to sleep. We’ll wake up early and go to breakfast at the diner before I drop you off at work,” her hands worked gently up and down y/n’s back with soft, sleepy touches, brushing the top of her ass with careful fingers. 

“I—”

Carol hushed her before she could get a word in, “go to sleep baby, the alcohol in your system must be making you drowsy by now, especially after that kind of fucking. We’ll talk in the morning." 

content warnings: alcohol consumption, nonconsenual vaginal fingering, strap on insertion and fucking, ass and pussy spanking, cunnilingus and face riding (is that what that’s called? i’m honestly not sure how to tag that), suffocation, and cum eating. hmu if i’ve missed anything. 

[fleckcmscott]

Another Decade

Summary: Arthur discovers Y/N's fortieth is just around the corner. He hopes to get the occasion right.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 5,044

A/N: This request comes from @hhandley80​, who is an absolute sweetheart! Funnily enough, I got the request for this story and Another Year within a couple days of each other. Thank you so much for it! It was great to write.

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open! 

This morning's therapy appointment had boosted Arthur's spirit. Left him refreshed instead of worn. Dr. Ludlow had given him a break from discussing his negative thoughts and various neuroses. Rather, she'd asked him what he wanted to talk about. What was foremost on his mind. And he'd spent close to the entire hour diving into what it was like to live with Y/N.

Having a person who cared about him was fulfilling. Beautiful. Challenging. Struggles inevitably happened but she attempted to help him through them. (A stark difference from when he’d been on his own.) The faith she'd placed in him by inviting him into her home was exciting.

Fears he'd never be worthy of that trust or such a good, intelligent woman did tend to eat at him. Especially when he couldn’t sleep or suspected he was slipping. But he was trying. Doing his best to learn every day, every hour, every minute. To alter his view of himself to include intimate partner alongside mentally ill loner. “I- I thought it would fix me,” he’d said. “It’s hard. But I don’t feel so bad all the time anymore.”

The doctor had complimented his resolve. Said he was dealing with all the changes as well as could be expected. If he followed his treatment plan, she anticipated he'd continue to do so. Appreciating the recognition, Arthur had wondered how to keep her praises close.

And now here he was. Experiencing the ordinariness of sitting in a diner with his girlfriend. Talking about their respective mornings. Sharing a meal. The crinkle fry he grabbed from the blue-plate special in the center of the table was soggy. The corner of his mouth quirked up as he dunked it in ketchup, a possible punchline coming to mind. If he could just figure out the right-

An inviting caress to the back of his hand brought him back to the present. He hadn't meant to tune out Y/N. With an apologetic grin, he pressed back into the booth's plastic cushions and took another drag off his cigarette.

“I was saying I need to head back to work,” she told him. A smile slowly spread across her face, until it nearly blinded him. “And that I can’t believe we’ve been shacked up for almost two months. I know it’s been an adjustment-“

“A good one,” he interrupted gently, interlocking their fingers.

"I’m proud of you.” The pink on her cheeks was faint. “I wouldn’t have taken the leap with anyone else. I can’t seem to get enough of your company, Mr. Fleck.” With that, she signaled for the waitress, retrieved her wallet from her purse, and got out some cash. Rising, she turned to Arthur. “Get the change for me,” she said, heading towards the back.

Her suede billfold was open on the table, her Gotham City ID card in view. He tentatively picked it up to examine the photo. Her hair was uncharacteristically flat, shorter than it was now. The flash had turned her lovely eyes red, and her lips were agape, as though she was in the middle of a sentence. A giggle escaped him. Frumpy. She was frumpy.

Reading her details, his brow quirked at her full name: “Y/N M/N L/N.” There was a nice rhythm to it, one that would also work with “Fleck,” if they got as far as he daydreamed. Then he saw her date of birth and stilled.

Her fortieth was in less than two weeks: 4/6/1942. April sixth. Shit.

He’d learned so many facts about her: the names of her nephews and niece; which college she’d attended; her favorite bands. She’d told him her birthday was in the spring. How the hell had he neglected to ask her the specific date? Awash with embarrassment, a hiccup left him and he covered his mouth.

The waitress returned with a dubious look, a receipt, and coins. As he counted out the tip, he calculated what he had in his own wallet and checking account. He’d scrimped and saved to cover the electric and water bills (though he knew he’d have to pay them in secret to avoid Y/N’s finding a way to repay him). Could he afford a decent gift, too?

Arm in arm, they walked back to Y/N’s workplace. She chatted about that afternoon’s court process, and he puffed away as if he was going to Hoyt’s office for an impromptu scolding. When they reached the steps in front of her building, she tugged at him until he stepped closer. “You’re so stiff.”

Putting on a half-grin, he leaned into her. “Don’t worry about me.” He stole a chaste kiss, one she tried to turn into more before he backed off. “I’ll see you later.”

When he got home, he didn’t bother to change into his thermal shirt and pajama bottoms. Relaxing wasn’t an option. Stretching and pacing the kitchen, he breathed in and out, in and out. He needed to focus instead of letting himself be thrown off. Like a good partner would.

Plans. He had to make plans. And not the vagaries floating around in his head of what boyfriends were supposed to do. Special ones. Personal ones. Ones that demonstrated the depths of his love for her. This was important. The start of a new decade. And her first birthday with him.

Unable to conjure other options, he grabbed the phone from the wall and dialed Y/N’s office. His leg bounced harder with every ring. He hadn’t yet spoken with Patricia, Y/N’s friend and co-worker. But he’d heard she was nice. Any suggestions she could offer were welcome.

Thank goodness she answered before he lost his nerve. “Shaw and Associates. Patricia speaking.”

“Hi,” he pushed out, fiddling with the phone cord. “Um, this is Arthur. Arthur Fleck. Y/N’s boyfriend?”

A smile lingered in her professional lilt. “It’s nice to talk to you, finally. But she isn’t here. I can take a message.”

“No, I know.” If he hesitated too long, he'd reveal his awkwardness. So he went for it. “Do you know what Y/N’s favorite cake is?” That question commenced a conversation that gradually became easier. Each sentence soothed. Consoled the irritation he’d aimed at himself.

Y/N liked hummingbird cake, a mix of pineapple, banana, and cinnamon. It sounded intricate and expensive. There was a bakery that sold it by the slice, according to Patricia. Y/N hadn’t disclosed what gifts she would fancy, but had said she didn’t need any knick-knacks, mugs, or other such trifles. As for activities, she was uncomplicated. She liked going to the movies and restaurants. Conversations and walks. The mundanity of domestic life, especially since becoming involved with him.

That lovely sentiment caused his eyelids to shut, an ember to glow in his heart. But it only confirmed what he already knew. “I want to make her happy,” he breathed. “I’m new at this.”

“We all were once,” she said, brushing his concerns off. “Arthur, she’ll love anything you do. Because you’re the one doing it.”

The kindness she was extending to him felt surreal. Not yet used to it, he tried to believe it wasn't a trick. He thanked her quietly, for her ideas and for listening to him. But as he was about to hang up, she gave him one last piece of advice. “Wear your button-up with the blue flowers. And your yellow vest.”

Blinking, he frowned. “But those are for work.”

Patricia laughed softly. “Yeah, well. She likes them. What was it she said? ‘They accentuate his sexy waist?’”

A burn rushed across his face and he rubbed his forehead. “...Oh.”

Well, that was a request he could handle.

~~~~~

It seemed as though newspaper adverts, television commercials, and even the damned billboards plastered around Gotham had an ax to grind. They all declared the same thing. Women needed to “mold their faces back to youth!” “Guard against aging skin!” Learn they could “look young again!” To be someone other than themselves.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N dropped the magazine she’d been reading in the trash can next to her desk. She’d be crossing into the “Fatal Forties” in a week. While she did use lotion before bed to prevent the formation of wrinkles, and the prospect of gray hair wasn’t one she relished, turning the big 4-0 bothered her less than she’d anticipated. Her looks were minor concerns compared to what she’d gained over the years.

The hardships she’d endured had mostly strengthened her. Allowed her, mercifully, to grow into a person who was comfortable with herself. It was said women were supposed to be set in their ways by now. And in many respects, that was true. She enjoyed her routines. She liked her career. She loved participating in life amidst millions of other people.

But meeting Arthur had changed her path. Started her on an adventure she treasured. A journey into actual partnership, rather than her earlier attempts to please and meet other’s expectations. Attempts she had failed at. Miserably.

He hadn’t cared she was five years his senior. Hadn’t hinted that he’d considered her a “spinster.” Never joked that she was an “old maid.” If she stood in front of the cosmetic counter at the pharmacy while he got his prescriptions, he’d slink up behind her and say, “You’re already pretty.” She’d never expected him to make her feel more desirable now than she’d ever felt in her twenties, stretch marks, moderately saggy breasts, and all.

During the past few days, she’d tried to piece together what he could have planned for her birthday. He hadn’t left any clues, though one night he had hurriedly tucked something under a couch cushion. He’d been a bit out of sorts, though. Biting his nails more than usual. Seeking greater reassurance.

She’d had plenty of good birthdays. There’d been parties and games. Presents. Hugs and well wishes. When she’d taken care of her father it had mostly been forgotten, apart from the cards she’d received from her ex-husband and sister. The passage of time had been marked by worsening dementia. And she had been fine with not caring.

In contrast, Arthur had stated he’d never known what it was like to matter to someone. Not until her. He’d told her he’d given Penny a blouse for her birthday once or twice. That had been years ago, however, before his mother’s reactions to him had gradually reduced to requests to send letters. Before her health had declined when he was a child and he’d had to take over every basic task. Before he’d become too exhausted to try.

Would it be fair to expect him to take much notice?

At the end of a long workday, she’d be satisfied with a quiet evening at home. Cooking dinner together. Drinking wine until she felt warm and fuzzy. Kisses exchanged here and there. Maybe some fooling around before she nodded off on the sofa with her feet in his lap. Such basic joys would be plenty.

~~~~~

The page in Arthur’s journal taken up by Y/N’s special day wasn’t atypical. He’d been writing about her since the grocery store. (“I wonder what her name tastes like. Less bitter than mine, I bet.”) Since they’d shared donuts. (“I shud have given Sara my number.”) Since she’d stared at him, then smiled at him, and he’d felt the whole world change. (“I hope Y/N likes the joke I rote for her. I practised it 100 times! Maybe she’ll let me touch her again. Shit. I’m nervos.”)

With it a mere four days away, there wasn’t much time left for gift hunting. So he pulled on his trusty tan jacket and headed out. He was unsatisfied with what his search had turned up so far. Flowers. Candy. Nylons. It had all been mediocre when she was beyond compare.

On the verge of desperation and distress, he finally managed to stumble upon the right shop. The name above the entrance, Nice Twice, was catchy. And there was a sign: “Personalization available!” Following a quick glance through the streaked shop window, he flicked his cigarette to the ground and opened the wooden door.

As he stepped inside a shopkeeper bell rang. The stench of sandalwood incense and mothballs was thick, causing him to wince. The place was overstuffed, filled with circular clothing racks, shelves of home decor and appliances, and furniture from the sixties. He tread along the faded, orange parquet floor. Squeezed between displays of bell bottoms and coats to reach a large jewelry counter by the cash register.

A man Arthur assumed was the owner popped out from behind a nearby shoe rack. He appeared to be what Penny had disdainfully referred to as a “hippie,” with his beaded headband and light blue jeans. When asked if he’d found anything he liked, Arthur answered, “Not yet.”

His shoulders tilted, drew together as he scanned the contents of the glass cabinet. Being able to get Y/N diamond earrings or a bracelet would have been ideal. He’d heard they were supposed to be symbols of commitment. Show her how important she was to him. But they’d never be affordable, even in a thrift store. There were some lovely brooches but they weren’t her style. She didn’t wear pins, anyway.

About fifteen minutes had passed when, at last, he spotted a suitable piece. The owner gave it to him to inspect. The heart, hanging from a long, silver chain, was a tad smaller than the end of his thumb. Purple, blue, and gold flowers, faded with age, were pressed under the pendant’s rounded, glass front. It was lovely, like her. And picturing her wearing it made his chest tighten.

The necklace was twelve dollars. For two dollars more, the heart’s silver back could be engraved. Arthur could definitely swing that. It took only seconds for him to choose what should be etched into it, having had his imagination sparked by a recent fifties sit-com. It would be ready Monday, the day before her birthday.

While Arthur retrieved his wallet, the owner asked, ”Hey, what’s your sign?”

Forehead furrowed, he tried to decipher the man’s meaning. He was sure he’d heard the question on television and in films. “My sign?” The man clarified and Arthur provided both his and Y/N’s birthdays.

The owner laughed. “Woo wee! That’s a powerful match.” He indicated a collection of astrology scrolls next to the register. “Your lady friend might like one of these.”

Waving dismissively, Arthur shook his head. “I don’t believe in that.” Seemingly determined, the hippie held out a rolled-up scroll. It was about the length of a cigarette, its title printed in a faux-ancient font: “Aries & Scorpio: Love & Romance.” Curiosity piqued, he pressed his lips together. “What does it say?”

“Only good things, man.” This was obviously a well-practiced pitch. And it was working The man retrieved a keyring full of unrolled, laminated scrolls. After flipping through the collection, he handed one to Arthur. He wasn’t the fastest reader, having had difficulties with it since he was a kid. But he scanned the page.

According to “the stars,” palpable chemistry existed between Aries and Scorpio. They were fun, passionate, and explosive in the bedroom. Snorting, he brought the scroll closer. “Your attraction to each other defies logic. Aries has a tough demeanor, but Scorpio brings out the compassion and love hiding underneath. Scorpio has an inner strength Aries finds irresistible.” Hm. What it said about Y/N was true. And she’d told him he was strong (which he didn’t really believe). He smiled, pleased this silly tract paid him such compliments.

He kept going. “As a pair, you are inhalation and exhalation in one. Two sides of the same coin. Aries is the sun to Scorpio’s moon.” Y/N was all those things to him. Even on days he wasn’t sure he wanted to feel better. Even on days it was easier to sink into the familiarity of misery than to strive for the unfamiliarity of feeling good.

It was after reading the final line that he nodded and dug into his pocket for two quarters: “You will be together for decades, even into the next life.”

~~~~~

Though she was standing in an overcrowded subway, squished between a man holding a dog and a woman using her as a vertical bed, Y/N felt giddy. Albeit tired. The day had been brimming with paperwork, phone calls, and running around. But it had started off well, and she was certain its upward trajectory would continue the rest of the night.

When she’d awoken, she’d discovered a pink envelope in Arthur’s place, laying haphazardly on his pillow. She’d boosted herself up on her forearm, ran her fingertips over her handwritten name, and taken out the yellow card.

There was a drawing of a man holding a woman by the waist. Lifting her until her hair touched the cheery, red “Happy Birthday.” The couple appeared thrilled. Taken with each other. And straight out of the forties. It wasn’t quite them, but it did reflect Arthur’s old fashioned romanticism.

No preprinted poem was inside. No famous quotes. Arthur had written a message instead. One which made her ache. “What do you get when you cross chocolat with something that goes thump-thump? A sweetheart. (That’s you.) My life is nicer with you in it. Even Gotham. I’m happy you talked to me. I love you a lot. -Arthur.”

He’d returned to the bedroom. Caught her mid-giggle as she’d wiggled out of her nightgown, hidden between the sheets. He was holding a mug. The same one they’d shared after the first of many lovemaking sessions.

Greedily, she’d ogled his damp hair and slender musculature. Light green eyes soft and serene, he’d sat next to her and pecked her cheek. At the flick of his gaze to her mouth, she’d flung her arms around his shoulders. Stubble burned her skin, her kisses to his dimples urgent.

“Wait,” he’d chuckled, putting the drink on the nightstand. “I made pancakes.” Even as he’d protested, he’d splayed his hand on the small of her back.

“To hell with pancakes,” she’d purred, pulling him under the blankets.

Work had been sentimental, which she’d neither expected nor wanted. Her new job would be starting in a week and a half. The small celebration they’d squeezed in served as both a goodbye and “Over the Hill” party, black balloons and grey streamers included.

Matt had been downcast as he’d shoveled red velvet cake into his mouth. “I’m sorry it turned out this way.”

A lame attempt to lighten the atmosphere had been needed. No one was going to start blubbering on her account. “You could come with me. Follow the conscience I know you have hidden somewhere.” He’d looked askance, turned towards his office. Trying to soften her joke, she’d patted his arm. “Don’t feel too bad. You could still lose the case.”

Settled on the windowsill, she’d gazed out at the streets of the city she’d grown to love. The city she called home, despite having spent only five percent of her existence in it. It was fitting to start this phase of her life here. The only period in which she’d felt whole, both professionally and personally.

A sheen had been in Patricia’s eyes when she’d joined her in the tight space, nudging her with her hip. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you here, accelerating Matt’s hair loss.”

“You’ll have to add it to your list of duties.” Elbowing her gently, Y/N continued. “I’ll only be a couple blocks away. We’ll meet for lunch. And you have my phone number.” Before her own eyes could water, she’d gone to her desk to cut another slice.

Patricia raised her hand. “You’re going to ruin your appetite.”

“Oh? Should I be expecting something?”

Finishing her own piece, Patricia crossed her ankles. “Arthur called for tips while you were in court. He decided I was an expert on you.” Y/N’s brows shooting up prompted a chuckle. “I didn’t give away all your secrets. Just some of your favorite sweets.”

The clench of Y/N’s throat was instant. And shame washed over her for assuming he wouldn’t plan much, if anything at all. He’d been considerate, even during tough times. Like at Christmas, which had been hard for him but turned out well in the end. He’d made it clear that what he coveted most, besides love and validation, was to be treated normally. Normal expectations were a part of that. She’d sought to give him a break when the benefit of the doubt had been what he deserved.

Y/N thought a bit. Surveyed the ornate woodwork in the corners of the room. Then she'd met her friend’s gaze. “Patricia, I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”

“Because he’s getting you cake?”

“I’m not that easy.” Laughing, Y/N sat on the corner of her desk. “Do you remember when I said I was almost forty and was going to grab what I want? Well, I’m forty and he’s what I want.”

Caution and kindness had softened Patricia’s concerns. “I don’t mean to be indelicate. But you’re his first relationship. Is he ready for that?”

Y/N sucked the frosting off her fork. “Our sixth month is soon. I’ll drop a hint. When he’s ready - if he’s ready - he’ll know I am, too.”

She’d been floating since that realization. Since admitting her devotion to Arthur aloud and thereby making it concrete. Since getting a supportive hug from Patricia. And reassurance from Matt, of all people, that she hadn’t entered a mid-life crisis.

That headiness continued as she fumbled with her keys. Upon entering their apartment, music reached her ears. Music with a faster tempo than the classics Arthur usually played. Hanging up her coat and slipping off her shoes, she recognized it as one of her “Best of Soul and Disco” LPs. She braced herself on the wall separating the kitchen from the living room, her cheeks breaking wide open.

Arthur had moved the television and its stand to the side of the coffee table. A blanket, folded into a square, lay in front of the windows. Two plates and two wine glasses were on it. As she approached, she saw sandwiches on a platter. There was pasta salad and potato salad, both covered in plastic wrap, from the deli around the corner. In the center of it all sat an empty vase.

When he came out of the bedroom, magic wand in hand, he stilled. “Oh. Hi. You’re back already?”

A giggle. “I ran.” Biting her bottom lip, she admired his tousled brown curls, feathery, light, and attractive as hell. His face was unobscured by make-up, allowing her to revel in his handsomeness. The top button of his white shirt was undone. And his yellow vest outlined his lean frame in all the right ways. He wore his usual trousers. “Did you have a gig today?”

“No.” He smoothed a palm down his chest and stomach, and she noticed he’d rolled up his sleeves. “Um, I heard you like it.”

She felt herself blush and nodded eagerly. Thank you, Patricia.

With a flick of his wrist, flowers sprouted from the end of the wand. “I wanted to do this outside. On the fire escape. But it’s too cold.” He knelt on the blanket to put the flowers in the vase.

Y/N cocked her head. The juxtaposition of him wearing his “Carnival Casual” outfit, the cutesy charm of the picnic he’d arranged with the music that was playing was ridiculous. The song went on repeatedly about miracles, need, and “sexy things.” She snorted.

As Arthur removed the cellophane from the salads, his shoulders tensed. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” he breathed. “I got too much.”

“No,” she replied, sitting next to him, laying a hand on his thigh. “This is wonderful.” When their eyes met, she found his look at once bashful and flirtatious.

She served the sandwiches and salads while he poured the wine, following her request to fill the glasses to the top. Mostly potato salad ended up on her plate, the mix of mayonnaise, pepper, and egg just right. A majority of the pasta wound up on his - he liked the vinegary flavor. The red wine did not pair with the turkeys on rye he’d prepared, so she saved most of it for dessert.

When Arthur held out an orange roll of paper, she was dabbing her mouth with a cloth napkin. The title made her laugh. She never would have suspected he put stock in the zodiac; she certainly didn’t. Gingerly, she opened the scroll and squinted down at it.

It described her as determined, confident, and extroverted. And called Arthur a curious, emotional introvert. While mostly true, it wasn’t quite accurate. Arthur was only introverted in personal situations, while having the courage to perform as a clown and a stand-up. Those traits could belong to anyone, depending on the situation.

But the next paragraph clued her in as to why he’d bought the horoscope. And given it to her. “You were made for each other. There are times when it’s hard to know how you both managed to ever exist apart. The bond between you is unbreakable. You have much to learn from one another.” A lump formed in her throat when she read the last line, that they’d be together until the next life. She didn’t believe in that, yet longed for it all the same. “Thank you, Arthur.”

The scroll would have been enough. Dinner would have been enough. He would have been enough. But he placed a pink, velvet necklace box on her lap. She blinked at it, hoping he hadn’t spent too much on her. Then she forced that notion from her brain - he was a grown man who could buy what he chose - and cracked it open. Her breath caught.

The heart with pressed flowers was obviously vintage. The size was demure, like her other, few pieces of jewelry. And it was exactly her style: feminine and practical. She was grateful he hadn’t gotten her diamonds or other flashy gems. Her eyes darted to his as she took it out. “This is...” Gently, he turned it over in her palm, and she saw the engraving on the back: A+S.

A+S. Arthur and Y/N. It was a bold move from him. A welcome one.

“I think that’s usually done on trees,” he said. “But there aren’t that many in Gotham.”

Chuckling, she sniffed back her tears and shoved it at him. “Here.” She turned her back towards him. His fingertips dragged along her collarbone as she lifted her hair and he latched the chain. The kiss he placed above the clasp made her shiver. Wanting him to see how the pendant rested right above her cleavage, she unbuttoned the top of her blouse.

“It’s beautiful.” She pulled him in for a kiss. Traced his crow's feet. Let her thumbs wander to the slight puffiness underneath. The wine, along with her earlier confession to Patricia, was making it easier to open up. “You have my whole heart, Arthur,” she sighed into his mouth.

His palm went to her chest as he tilted his head, his other holding the nape of her neck. The tip of his tongue slipped between her lips and warmth enveloped her. She felt his fingers play with the necklace. Heard his ragged inhalation. Knew that pride and pleasure were emboldening him, because she was wearing what he’d gifted.

Eventually, he broke their connection, told her to close her eyes and pecked her nose. She concentrated on his steps to the kitchen. The clatter of him going through the silverware drawer. And then the chill breeze of the glass door being opened.

When she was allowed to peek, she stood and followed him onto the fire escape. A lit cigarette was already between his lips, and he was lighting a candle on a gigantic slice of cake. “You’re supposed to make a wish,” he said, smoke escaping his nostrils.

She snuggled his side, snaked an arm around him as he slung his across her shoulders. After eyeing the flame a moment, she sucked in a deep breath, pursed her lips, and bent closer...

Just in time for a split-second gust of wind to blow out the candle.

Arthur groaned and started to let go of her but she stopped him. “It counts.” She lifted the fork and fed him a bite, grinning at his pleased hum. “You won’t mind me turning grey, will you?”

“No. I won’t be the only one looking old.”

She nuzzled his temple. “You don’t look old. You’re refined.”

“Sure,” he scoffed. They ate silently for a bit, but then he squeezed her tighter. “What did you...” Trepidation lurked behind his question, even after their steamy picnic. “What did you wish for?”

“That we’ll keep loving each other, even through tough times.” She lowered the fork, already full. “That I’ll like my new job.” Letting go of him, she set the plate on the metal stairs, next to his ashtray. “That you’ll be healthy.”

He huffed. “You shouldn’t have wasted any on me.”

“You’re worth all of them.” She kissed his bicep, laid her head on his shoulder. The record playing in the background turned over, switched to a slower song, and she grinned. “Now,” she said, “may I have this dance?”

Delight in his eyes, he bowed. She giggled as he grabbed her around the middle and pulled her flush against his solid frame. He led beautifully, gazing at her as if she was the only woman in the world, guiding her to the beat she was deaf to. He even dared to raise her hand for a modest twirl, and she trusted him enough for it to work.

As they spun slowly, rotating in the lights of their living room and the city, he kissed her hairline. “Happy birthday. I hope you liked it.”

“I loved it.” She captured his thin lips with her own. “Promise you’ll be here for the next twenty.”

“The next forty.” He bumped their noses and lay his cheek on hers. Y/N cuddled deeper into his embrace, feeling more cherished than she had in years.

~~~~~

Hot Chocolate - You Sexy Thing

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[peachyteabuck]

pull you out of here

summary: asgard needs a queen, thor wishes to defy his father, and you seem to be the solution to both

pairing: dark!thor odinson x reader

words: 4,971

trigger warnings: dark possessive thor, stalking, emotional manipulation, heavy dubcon, smut, slight breeding kink, heavy angst, cheating, unhealthy relationships 

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

To say that Thor was mad would be an understatement. To say Frigga cared would be a complete lie.

“He’s trying to get me to marry, Mother,” he nearly screams. Nonetheless, the woman remains calm. “To cede some of my power to some woman!”

Frigga watches her son stomp around her chambers with a watchful eye, never moving from her seat across the room. She’s watched her son – her lovely, wonderful son – perform this long-winded act many times before; when Loki came into their lives, whenever Frigga had to force them to share. Thor, in classic eldest-sibling fashion, thoroughly disliked anyone impeding on what he thought to be his.

His toys, his room, his room, his power. All of it, everything he wished for, was his.

This included his throne, apparently, as is made obvious by his red-faced rambling.

“What, is he going to pluck some maiden from the streets of Asgard? Make her some puppet for during in my rule?” he’s stomping now, nearly spitting.

He stays like that – acting the same way he did when Loki stole a single potato from his plate when he was old enough to walk and talk and feel but young enough to not have a single muscle on his lanky body.

Just like usual, he eventually tires himself out, using his last bit of energy to bark in the general direction of a servant to get him some ale. He sits in the chair across from his mother, elbow resting on his knees.

Thor’s voice is quieter now, much more pensive. “Mother, what am I going to do?”

Frigga waits for the servant to bring the large drink and for Thor to gulp half of it down before responding. “What you father wants is for you to have a bride – it’s important to the people you rule over. What your father wants –“

“Is for me to give my power to some woman,” Thor scoffs into his drink. “I’m aware.”

Frigga rolls her eyes. “No, darling. What your father wants is to make sure the woman is to his tastes.”

Her son scoffs. “What does that mean?”

“It means, if you picked a woman from say,” the woman shrugs. “Midgard, then he wouldn’t be able to say no to her for fear of backlash from the Asgardians,” Thor smiles as she continues talking, now understanding. “They love their humans, you know.”

They laugh together, happy as their devised their plan: Thor would leave the next day for Midgard, spend some time there, woo some woman he knows will not impede too much into his duties as king.

So, when Thor saw you in that faded orange cardigan, the leggings that showed off your thick thighs, and a well-loved t-shirt that looked incredibly soft with your hair piled on top of your head and fuzzy socks on your feet and you yawning so adorably as you waited for your coffee to be finished, he knew he had to have you. Sure, maybe he was being shallow when he thought about being buried between your thick thighs or laying on your large breasts, and maybe he should’ve learned more about your personality before calling you his “dream girl.” But still, he knew you were the one and he needed to get you to fall in love with him ASAP.

There were a few problems with this mission:

First: he didn’t know your name, your job in the tower, or how to find you. He knew you as “the adorable one who likes coffee,” which doesn’t narrow it down, especially because they were in New York and more specifically Stark Tower, where everyone within city limits was running on two gallons of coffee, anxiety, and institutional access to research databases.

Second: after pestering every Avenger he could find, Thor found out that you had a boyfriend. A long-term one, too. About five years is what Steve begrudgingly told Thor after the God broke into his personal gym during his morning run on the treadmill (that day it was hailing, and Captain America will put up with a lot – but he refuses to get hit in the face with golf-ball sizes sphere of ice). A few minutes later, Barton (who admitted very quickly to listening through the vents) told Thor that rumor had it he was going to propose pretty soon – had picked the ring and restaurant out but hadn’t booked the reservation.

Third: very soon after learning that you were taken, Thor also learned that he would likely be spending a lot of time with you since where you worked and his favorite place ended up being the exact same. Tony’s personal lab (where he often worked with Bruce), was pretty much where you lived. Your official job description was akin to “personal librarian,” which meant keeping the lab orderly so Tony could on inventing things (or whatever else it is he does). Once, about a day before Pepper decided to hire someone, Tony spent four hours sorting screws.

Four. Entire. Hours.

You, with your degree in IT and concentration in database creation and management, were perfect for the job. He was even allowing you to use his lab for research – making you a pioneer in a field you didn’t realize existed until LexisNexis contacted you asking to moonlight as a consultant during their company-wide restructuring.

Some (mostly those who interviewed for the job and didn’t get it) called you a glorified assistant, a nanny whose only job was to clean up toys. Still, Tony spoke highly of you during parties and interviews and whenever anyone complimented his lab.

Given your dedication to your work, a few months in Tony offered you an apartment a few floors down. It was newly renovated, and since most Stark employees lived in Stark Industries-subsidized housing not located within HQ, you lived mostly secluded from everyone else.

To you, it was amazing. You never had to see anyone you didn’t intend to and you never had to brave the famously-bad New York winter weather just to go to bed. In all honesty, it was your dream life.

Thor, though, had to disagree. It made it impossible to “bump into you,” he never saw you when you weren’t working (you made it very clear you preferred to either a) work in silence or b) listen to music or an audiobook you picked). Even if he managed to catch a glimpse of you on your lunch break, you always seemed to be more interested in something else – a book, a conversation, whatever. Never, ever, did he seem to be able to catch you off guard.

About a week in, he realized this would be much harder than he originally thought.

Over the course of six months, Thor learned a few things:

First: you really like to read. He ends up asking Natasha (arguably the person you’re closest with) about every book you like in an attempt to have something to talk about.

Second (before he wanted to talk to you about the Poisonwood Bible but after he finally got Natasha to crack): You really don’t like your boyfriend, and your boyfriend doesn’t really seem to like you. When he asks why you two are still dating, Natasha just shrugs sadly.

“That’s a story for her to tell, not me, Odinson,” she said.

Third (the next morning, he sniffed around the kitchen to find anyone who would tell him anything about you): You were incredibly insecure about your body. He learned that from Steve. He learned from Sam that this was why you stayed with your emotionally distant romantic partner; because you thought you couldn’t find anyone better.

This, of course, was a lot of information to handle at once. So Thor did what a bunch of bubbly college students on YouTube called “mind-maps” so he could sort out his thoughts. What started as a fresh, clean, white sheet of graph paper ended up being a masterplan to win you over.

Step 1: Have a solid conversation with you

This happens much faster than expected. The next morning, to be exact. It’s sort of warming up, so you’re wearing a thin pullover and a pair of tight, light grey jeans. The pullover has some Midgardian logo on it, one Thor doesn’t recognize. When you turn around as you wait for the coffee machine, he asks you about it.

“What’s on your…” he gestures to said logo.

You smile bashfully, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “It’s, uh, it’s just some concept art for a book I like. ”

Thor beams. He knows he’s got you. “What book?”

You shrug, grabbing the pot and pouring the steaming liquid into your peach pink travel mug. “It’s called Nothing, it’s by Janne Teller…

From there, you and him talk about what’s possibly the darkest book of all time. You explain to him the plot, the emotion it evokes from you. It truly is your favorite piece of literature; you really could talk about it for hours.

So, you do. Over your morning coffee, then a larger-than-usual breakfast, and then lunch. You make grilled cheese and tomato soup, biting every few sentences.

“God, my favorite line, like of the entire book is like,” you take a bite, chewing as you speak. “So Pierre is talking to these kids, and this one kid is Muslim, and gave up the prayer mat, or rather was made to give up his prayer mat. And Pierre is like ‘what price was your faith?’ And that line has like, continued to haunt me. It’s just,” you swallow. “What price do we pay to prove ourselves to others, you know?”

Thor listens intently as you speak, nodding and smiling as you go on. It’s amazing how much someone lights up when they talk about something they’re passionate about. It’s probably mid-afternoon when you finally realize that you’ve been talking for literal hours.

“Oh my god,” you gush, collecting the dishes and placing them in the sink. “I’m so sorry, I’ve been-”

Thor grabs your wrist, bunching at the sleeve. “No, please do not apologize. I have been meaning to talk to you for a long time.”

You blush, not meeting his eyes. “Why would someone like you want to talk to someone like me…”

That’s sort of when Thor’s suave facade cracks a little. You’re everything he’s ever wanted in a partner. Literally ever. And your inability to see that troubles him deeply.

“My dear, you’re so smart and quick and eloquent,” he tells you, never break eye contact. “Don’t even think I don’t want to be around you.”

You blush, not responding while scuttering off and mumbling something about having to go to a meeting for Stark.

Step 2: Get you to spend what Natasha and Wanda call “quality time” with him.

This one happens a little while later. Tony, in an effort to reward you, gave you some time off. The problem is that you hate taking off work, you always have. It’s impossible for you to feel good when you’re not being productive, and the idea of laying around for three days is unimaginable to you.

“Listen, you need some sun, you’ve been cooped up in here for weeks,” Tony tried to plead with you as he hanged upside down from the ceiling.

“C’mon, I’m not a house plant! What am I going to do anyway?” you cry out from your spot on the floor.

Just then, Natasha happened to walk through the door with a paperwork mishap. If there was a lightbulb above her head, it would’ve burned bright enough to blind them. Without doing anything that even resembles what she originally walked into the lab to do, Natasha bolts out at the speed of lightning.

“THOR!” she screams when she enters his apartment. “THOR, I HAVE SOME VERY GOOD NEWS!”

Promptly, he comes out in just a towel, glowing like some candle in a dark room. “Yes, Natasha?”

She takes a minute to wolf whistle before she beings. “The darling girl you’ve had your eye on has a few days off coming up...you should take her somewhere! Do something!”

Thor’s silent. He sort of didn’t think this would ever happen...now that he has the opportunity he’s a little floored. It’s like when you’ve been doodling hearts with your crush’s name in them and then they actually talk to you. “Oh...oh Gods...what do I do? How should I ask her…”

Natasha’s a little giddy with excitement at the prospect of Thor taking you out. You’ve been so good to them in so many different ways...she wants someone to do something nice to you for once. If that meant setting you up with the super-hot God of Thunder (and Fertility...wink wink), then so be it.

“Oh goodness, you can do anything!” she mentally runs through all of the endless possibilities. “She’ll want something quiet, quaint...coffee shop? No, that’s too boring. Some fair thing? No, that’s too crazy, loud. Maybe you could...oh my God that’s perfect!”

Thor, still in a towel but now dry, looks confused. Appreciative, but confused. “What, Natasha...what is it?”

Her grin stretches from ear to ear, teeth flashing and eyes bright. “You should help her organize the bookshelf in her room, she’s been talking about it for ages and she’s always talks about she’s never had the time or the energy and-”

“You think the best way for me to get to know the future mother of my children is to help her organize her...shelf of books?” Thor is now dressed. Natasha doesn’t question it.

“Uh...hells yeah! Listen, dude. If you really want to get to know her you need to get her in a situation, she’s comfortable with,” Natasha sees she has a text indicating she’s needed for some logistical work for the next mission and turns to leave. Right before the elevator, though, she turns to face Thor again. “But don’t mention the ‘mother of children thing’...it’s weird.”

Thor takes note as he prepares to ask you about the...date? Is it a date? That he’s planning on taking you on. Luckily, he doesn’t have to try too hard, because Wanda and Steve less than five minutes later to help him.

“Oh Thor-egous Odinson!” Wanda sing-songs as she enters into his living room. She practically bouncing off of the walls as she goes to sit down next to Thor on the large, plush couch.

“Hey Thor,” Steve mumbles quietly. He chooses a chair across from both of them, obviously extremely uncomfortable with the situation. He’s one of the few people who knows you really well, though, so the need for qualified individuals overpowers his personal feelings about manipulating you into going on a date with the God (Natasha refused to use that word when Steve brought it up, though. “I’m just encouraging her, Steven, calm down,” she tried to explain to him on the elevator up. “Don’t call me that,” is all Steve replied).

“So,” Wanda chirps. “Nat told us you wanted to help our favorite little book worm organize her bookshelves on her sequence of days off?”

Thor gives a small noise of affirmation, knowing very well that Wanda and Natasha understand you the best. If he had any choice of making his plan work, they would have to be a part of it – whether they knew it or not.

They spent hours talking about you – both of them providing deep analysis of your likes, dislikes, preferences. The things you love, hate.

It ended with lists sprawled on scraps of paper, things they told Thor he had to memorize if had “a sliver of hope” of having you like him.

With pockets stuffed full of these promises, he walked away with a small smirk and much better idea of how execute his plan, as has all led him into the next step:

Step 3: Make you like him much more than your current paramour.

This part appears to be the easiest, given your boyfriend is an aggressively mediocre man-child. You’ve got a picture of you and him on one of the bookshelf cubicles not overcome by thick books, next to a few small figurines of miscellaneous origin.

Thor asks about them as you both work to clear the bookshelf, throwing everything on the floor to be sorted later. Each one makes smile brightly for a few moments before sadness overtakes your eyes. One of them – a small fawn curled into a sleeping position on a small, circular bed of grass – seems to bring a special wave of melancholy to your face.

“Yeah, that was from when we met, a, uh, a study abroad program to a Canadian university. He and I had a mutual friend who made miniatures for fun – still does, actually – and we met through her. He bought me that for our first anniversary.”

Thor does his best to hide his wicked smile, but nevertheless is appreciative of your downcast eyes. “It sounds like he really loves you.”

You don’t disagree, just sigh. “So, can you help me sort these books by color type?”

Thor smiles wide as he can. “Of course.”

As he separates the books into four piles (warms, cools, white, and black), he goes over the state of his plan:

Step 4: Have you break up with your current paramour.

This step seems to be a significantly harder step, given your stubbornness surrounding being with him. It’s not as if Thor can grab you by the shoulders and say “he doesn’t love you! He’ll never love you! Just stop being in a relationship with him!”

He totally can’t do that, right? Right?

(After a few communiques with his mother they both decide, no, he can in fact not do that.)

So he settles for driving a wedge between the two of you that even he can fit in. Somehow, that seems just as good.

Step 5: Have you join him in Asgard.

This, too, feels much harder than sowing dislike between you and your…previous courtesan.

You’re smart, interesting, something Thor has yet to see in many possible wives. The problem is, your intelligence and fascinating nature are tied to your highly demanding job that you are, unfortunately, very attached to. Attempting to keep you for anything longer than your contractually obligated lunch break is tough enough, how could he convince you leave your job? Your home?

The floor-to-ceiling bookshelves – now organized by color – stare down at Thor almost mockingly. He wonders, as he hears the teapot screeching and two mugs being placed onto the counter, if his plan worked. You’re naïve, sure, but too naïve for him to mold? He’s been manipulating people since he was a golden child – him misreading you would be a blow to his ego, his very being.

But he cannot give up. Not when he’s only two steps into his plan.

As such, Thor spends the next few weeks following you around – doing everything he possible could to make your life easier. A mug too high? He would grab it before you could sigh about what shelf it was on. Dirty dishes? He’d fill the dishwasher, do the handwashing, and put all the clean dishes away after drying them. He did laundry and put it all away in its exact place.

Natasha made a comment Thor didn’t understand about 1960’s housewives, to which the god said nothing in return. He’d join you multiple times a week to do whatever you wanted – sometimes you’d watch a movie together, other times he’d help you shop online. Sometimes he’d help you cook food for the week, once he listened to you talk about new academic research you were interested in.

One special week he even held you as you cried about the man who was supposed to be the love of your life. That week, he wiped your tears and held you as you feel asleep, nuzzling into one of the many large hoodies he had acquired on his time on Midgard. That week, he thought he had cracked it – thought he had finally figured out how to get what wants.

Unfortunately for him, the truth was not kind to his endeavors. Not even a full day had passed before you were gushing over the man once more, sparkles in your eyes and hands clutching the latest “cute” thing he had texted you.

It was sickening, really, how easily you allowed yourself to be manipulated by him. Still, it gave Thor an ounce of hope. It this imbecile could get you crawling back to him, surely a god could do it too.

So he kept with the constant visits, with the bringing you lunch and coffee and eating take out on the floor of your bedroom and watching bad movies with you. It was menial, but it was working.

You began to trust him, began to get used to his presence.

For this reason (and maybe a few more you didn’t want to talk about), the knock on your door at dusk on a Wednesday was not exactly unexpected. For this reason, you answered the door in a loose crop top and soft, worn pajama shorts and ankle socks with smiling avocados on them.

You opened the door to him, excited to show him the duvet he had helped you pick out. It looked so much better in person, and you thought he’d like it.

He followed you, of course he did, into your bedroom. You were expecting that.

What you weren’t expecting was him to slam you into one of the few spots on the wall devoid of posters, trinkets, other miscellaneous crap that made the place feel a little more like a home.

You couldn’t see much over his broad shoulders, but somehow the top shelf of the very bookcase he had help you organize all that time ago.

Each title seemed to mock you as he began to speak.

“You’ve been holding out on me, little lamb,” he said with a sneer.

You tried to push at his muscular chest to no avail. “Thor, I don’t know what you’re t-“

He pushes you against the wall once more, ignoring your cries in pain. “Shut the fuck up, you know exactly what I mean.”

He rips the crop top off – revealing your simple black bralette. He moans as his large hands palm at your breasts, and you have to fight one yourself, too. It’s been so long since you’d had sex, let alone gone to first base; your lover (the one you had been with for over five years) hadn’t touched you like that since you’d decided to move into Stark Tower and your less-than-extensive sex toy collection had satisfied you in the very least.

Still, this was wrong. Very, very wrong.

“C’mon,” he growls, moving his hands south. “You know you want to…”

“I-” You try to push him away, only being able to think of how you were going to explain this to a man you thought one day you’d marry. You have to tell him, right? You have to tell him about what Thor tried. That’s the basis of good relationships, communication. “No, I don’t, Thor please-“

That’s when the last bit of him cracks, the soft edges to his voice sharpening and his jaw squaring.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he growls, ripping the shorts off next. “Do you understand all the shit I’ve put up with for you? All while your shithead boyfriend barely sent you a fucking text once a week to see if you were alright.”

“Thor, I-“

“No,” he shouts, making you flinch away from him. “Don’t excuse him! Don’t try and tell me he loves you like I do!”

That makes your eyes widen in fear, makes your hands shake where they’re pined at your side.

Thor softens everywhere except in his grip, keeping you pressed against him. “Oh, darling you don’t have to worry. I’m never gonna hurt you…”

A smile spreads across his face, then, leaning close to your ear. “Unless you want me to.”

He palms your clothed pussy, slipping two fingers inside of your dripping heat. It’s a delicious feeling and you fight back a moan, terrified to give him the satisfaction.

“C’mon darling,” Thor coos. “Let me hear you.”

He removes his fingers, then, smiling when you whine before stuffing his thick cock inside of you. It fits easily, given how wet you are, and for a moment – just a moment – you lose yourself to the pleasure.

“O-Oh,” you moan. “Oh, that feels so good.”

It all breaks down when Thor speaks once more, though. words flowing between him biting at your hot skin.

“That’s right, love,” his hands roam your body with fervor. “Let me make you feel good.”

It’s then that your mouth goes dry and a sense of dread washes over you.

“I-,” you try to find your verbal footing, wanting to find a path away from him. “I shouldn’t be doing this, I-“

You freeze when Thor uses one of his large hands to wrap around your throat, pinning you between him and the wall.

“Are you fucking serious?” he growls. “You’re really thinking about him right now?”

He nearly spits when he mentions your boyfriend, skin hot from fury.

“Think of all the things I’ve done for you!” he hisses into your ear. “How much easier I made your life. What has your boyfriend done for you?”

You don’t respond. In turn, he only fucks into you harder.

“That’s right. I know how little he loves you, and how little you love him,” you scream as he flips you around, using one hand to pins both your arms behind your back with your cheek pressed to the cool wall. “And yet you stay with him, why?”

You say nothing in return, though it’s not like you could. Each word dies in your throat when Thor thrusts into you once again. All that’s able to escape are choked sobs, broken pleas that sound more animal than human. Part of you wonders if Thor can hear you, another part wonders, if he could, would he care? If he truly understands what he’s doing, does it matter whether or not you want to push him away and cut away the skin he’s touched?

You can’t tell which is worse – dangerous naivety in combination with his strength, or determination blended with disregard.

Fiery tears burn as they stream down the already heated skin of your cheeks, but even that isn’t enough to distract from the feeling of Thor’s large hands all over you.

“C’mon little lamb,” he growls, voice sending bolts of electricity through you. “Cum for me.”

He swipes at your clit in smooth, tight circles, golden hot pleasure flooding your veins.

You reach your peak with a deep, chesty moan, nails digging into the skin of his back as you bucked your hips near violently.

“F-fuck,” Thor growls, continuing to thrust into you. “You feel so good around my cock, little lamb. You’ll have to excuse me, you’re going to make me cum much sooner than I would on an average night.”

Your eyes widen in fear, ready to plead for him to pull out.

Thor just lets out a small laugh, nipping at your skin. “Don’t worry, lamb, I won’t fill you with my seed.”

You let out a sigh of relief, but it doesn’t last for long.

“The last thing either of us need is for you to be bearing the mark of my child away from our people.”

You barely have time to react before Thor tucks his face into your neck as he finishes himself off, thick white ropes of cum painting your lower half.

You think it’s over, but of course it isn’t – that would be too fucking easy. He moves two of his rough fingers – still smelling distinctly of your sex – through his masterpiece before shoving them deep into your mouth, smiling. At first you gag, but as your blood begs for oxygen you accept your fate and clean the salty substance with your tongue.

“There you go,” he coos, beaming as he gazes down at you. “Such a good little lamb…I wonder if you can clean my cock like that?”

You can’t tell which you flinch harder at, the nickname or the thought of him sticking his dick past your lips and down your throat.

“Oh, don’t try to act like you don’t like it,” Thor says between light kisses he peppers across your neck. “Don’t you just love the idea of servicing me forever?”

You can feel him getting hard again against your thigh and you whimper, desperate to get away.

“Fuck don’t make that noise, little lamb, makes me want you more,” Thor groans. “Just imagine it – you and me on Asgard. I can rule and you can be my pretty little pet.”

Your eyes widen in fear, brain now fully comprehending what, exactly, Thor wants from you.

“Thor, please,” you beg. “Please, let’s be rational. I mean, Stark needs me! Right? You know how much Tony needs me!”

Thor just laughs, burrowing his nose into the nap of your neck. “Oh, my little lamb. We’ll figure it out – maybe you can train someone else to do your job. Or Tony can finally figure out how to be a man and figure that shit out himself,” he pulls back to kiss at your temple, whispering into your sweaty hair. “To be honest, I really don’t care. He���ll lose you soon enough, and how he handles that is neither of our problems.”

It’s then that you understand, that you really understood what was happening with Thor, what he wants from you.

In that moment, you understood that if your world was crashing down, and Thor would be there to pick up the pieces – whether you wanted to or not.

[galadrieljones]

As You Were (Chapter 8)

Fandom: The Last of Us | Pairing: Joel x OC | Content: Fix-it | Rating: Mature

Masterpost

When Joel and Ellie take a wrong turn on their journey from Pittsburgh to Wyoming, they find themselves lost in what feels like a time warp: a beautiful place with a dark and dangerous secret, filled with painful reminders of the past. But they aren’t alone. When they meet Cici and Noah, a mother and son fighting tirelessly for survival, things change. For those with little hope to spare, family is what you make it.

This is an AU, starting after the events of the Summer chapter in the first game, and extending into the timeline of the second.

*cw: canon-typical violence, blood

Chapter 8: La Crosse (Pt. 2) / The Lapp Farm (Pt. 2)

"Jury's still out. But, man. You can't deny that view."

As Joel and Noah worked their way through the city, nothing much changed, at first. The buildings were empty. Many were boarded up, but not all of them. Little streams and creeks seemed to have broken through the bluffs, coming in off the La Crosse River and now flowed in skinny little ribbons in the empty lots and fields. Looking upon them was paradoxical, for the water was enticing in its visual clarity, but both Joel and Noah knew the truth. There was not much wildlife, and this brought into the world a worrisome quiet beyond the sound of the wind in the trees. The sun came down even still and brought color to the parking lots, all of them overgrown with tall grasses and ponds. The cordyceps in the water did not seem to affect the flora. It was a pretty place, Joel thought, despite its indifference toward human life.

As they crossed the city, Joel could tell they were getting closer to pure, raw nature, as the greenery thickened, and the buildings and houses became increasingly sunken by floods and overtaken by trees and their massive root systems. He knew from the map that the campus was more or less nestled within a great many bluffs, which rose up like grassy table tops, and the Mississippi was less than two miles to the west. Little purple flowers grew everywhere, and they started seeing mushrooms, too, growing on some of the blackened moldy walls of fallen structures, and so Joel and Noah did not get too close.

They just kept following the signs for the Circle of the Holy Signal, and headed straight toward Centennial Hall at the central campus. At times, Joel thought that perhaps he was being watched, through the windows in the residential neighborhoods, but this was hard to put his finger on. Even in the natural wreckage, there were so many houses, small and intact, lined up in rows across many blocks, that he consistently found himself wondering what could be inside. They found a German Shepherd recently dead by what appeared to be a gunshot wound, lying by the side of the road near a middle school. While they had been crouched low, trying to determine exactly how long ago it had been killed, another dog came up with its tail wagging. This one was some sort of lab mix, and it looked lost and starving as it sniffed at their hands excitedly. Joel scrubbed it behind the ears once and then reluctantly bid it to flee. They had nothing for it. This was a sad and desolate place.

After they had walked more than two miles, they started to see actual signs of the campus, which was promising as well as foreboding. School flags that had survived, still flapping off the street lights, and crimson banners for the football team. There were take-out restaurants and bars with their windows bashed in, some of them still advertising discounts for students as well as a UW Credit Union. They walked down Main Street for a while, passing many Lutheran churches, sometimes more than one on a single block. Some of the churches had been co-opted and hung with banners that read Worship Circle, another tell of their mystery cult. Those churches in particular were so overgrown with the mushroom, they looked like beautiful death flowers, and Joel bid them to put on their gas masks just for the time being, as he was worried about spore levels, even in the open air.

At some point, they came upon a school store. It still had mannequins in the window and the doors were locked up with a heavy chain. Joel stopped to look around and Noah leaned against a stop sign to drink some water.

“What’s your take on this place?” he said eventually. "Do you have any like, feelings about it?"

Joel was examining the chain around the door handles. “My take is, this might be a fool’s errand.” He had a small screwdriver and lock pick, given to him by Bill back in Lincoln. “But I have been known to make my fair share of foolish decisions over the years. Anyway, this town seems fairly dead.”

“We can go back,” said Noah. He was holding the water bottle, soaked in sweat from his dark hair to his red Converse. “We saw the church. Maybe there’s nothing else to see. Maybe it’s too dangerous.” He had a kicked look about him, like a puppy. Joel saw him for his age then—old enough to know a lot, but still too young to know much better. He had a lot of confidence and sometimes this could make him seem older, but he was still only seventeen.

“What do you wanna do?” said Joel. He popped the lock on the chain with considerable ingenuity. He was a little proud of himself. "I'm here to help you."

“I wanna keep going,” said Noah. “I wanna know what’s going on.”

“All right then,” said Joel. “Let’s get to Centennial Hall and see what we can find.”

“Okay,” said Noah, like he had been reenergized. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going inside,” said Joel, loosening the chain and letting it drop. It made a loud noise and he then used a piece of rebar to pry open the doors.

“Why?” said Noah.

“Because,” said Joel, letting the rebar clank to the concrete sidewalk. He wiped the sweat from his face and his beard. “There might be something in here I want.”

They went inside. It was surprisingly maintained. It even looked defended, as if somebody had taken up shop in there many years before. There were makeshift blockades in the front of the store and what looked to be a sizable nest in the employee’s lounge. From the looks of the posters on the wall, he guessed it had been college kids.

“It’s just paraphernalia, for the college,” said Noah. He was going through the aisles, looking at the clothes on the racks, the mugs and water bottles. “What would you want in here.”

“A souvenir,” said Joel. He went over to the women’s section. A huge piece of particle board had fallen from the ceiling. He hauled it away.

“For yourself?”

“No,” said Joel.

“For Ellie?”

Joel was scouring a rack of hooded sweatshirts. “She asked me to bring her something, as a trade-in for not letting her come along. Hey, does this look like her size?” He held one of them up, a faded crimson with the words UW - LA CROSSE stamped on front, in a sort of vintage font. He thought it seemed like something she'd wear.

“What size is it?” said Noah.

“Uh, a woman’s extra small.”

“Well, she’s pretty extra small. So, I’d say that’s a good bet.”

Joel gave him a look. “Come here,” he said. “Put this in your backpack.”

“What?” said Noah. “No. You put it in yours.”

“I don’t have room in mine. Your mom packed it with one too many bomb parts and radio frequency enhancement mumbo jumbo, and it’s already digging in my spine.”

“Fine,” said Noah, swiping the sweatshirt. He rolled it up tightly and shoved it in the front pocket. “For Ellie.” Then he zipped it shut and they looked around. He saw something funny, one gray tee-shirt folded neatly in a disorderly stack. He held it up and showed it to Joel. “What about this one, for you?”

It said: UW - La Crosse Dad.

Joel said, “Yeah, that’s real funny.”

“I thought so.”

They were alarmed then, by a loud and inhuman screech, some banging on the walls coming from a locked back room.

“Jesus,” said Joel, picking up his shotgun. Whatever it was, it was angry, but it was trapped. He thought it might have been one of the college kids who'd made a nest here, which saddened him.

“That’s the first one,” said Noah. “In the whole town. What does that mean?”

“It means we’re getting closer to the epicenter of whatever the hell is going on here,” said Joel. “We should keep moving.”

They left the store, left the infected to rot. It was blistering now in the high noon sun as they continued their journey. “What was that thing in the store, do you know?" said Noah, earnest. He had his shotgun in his hands, a heavy pistol stuffed in the back of his jeans. He had killed plenty of Infected in his life, but it was mostly runners.

“Sounded like a clicker,” said Joel. "Based on the looks of things around here, that is most likely what we'll be running into. Whatever happened, it’s been years.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” said Noah. It was a common sentiment for him, but now, something had changed in his demeanor. He seemed desperate.

“What now."

“We lived for so long, on our farm,” said Noah. “It felt safe, growing up there, barely encountering any of this insane bullshit, until just this past year or so. But these people here, in the city, it looks like they went through something horrible, for such a long time. How can that be? How can they all be dead?”

“If I remember properly,” said Joel, “it took the cordyceps some months to take root in the midwest. Once they isolated the big cities, it was a slow trickle to the end, and smaller cities like this, once they got it, there wasn’t much support. They got it bad. Local militias rose up in their various…forms. I ain’t surprised you all managed to survive on your land for as long as you did, given how isolated you are, but I suppose that it was only a matter of time before it got to you, too, one way or another.”

“This is so sad,” said Noah as they looked around at their desolate surroundings. He was shaking his head over and over again like he could not believe it. “My mom was born in La Crosse. Her ancestors came here from Norway in like the 1890s. Look at it now.”

“What about your dad?”

“My dad was born in Madison,” he said. “His grandparents were Spanish immigrants.”

“Was his family farmers, too?”

"Yeah,” said Noah. They were walking along, kicking around in the middle of the road, all cracked up with weeds, listening to the wind. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’re from Texas,” he said. “What about your parents?”

“My parents were also from Texas,” said Joel. “My grandparents, too.”

“Where in Texas?”

“A town called Odessa.”

“Have you ever been married?” said Noah.

Joel was looking up at the sky now. There were some carrion birds up there, circling. A bad omen. “What?” he said.

“I asked if you’ve ever been married.”

“Why would you wanna know that?”

“I’m just curious,” said Noah.

Joel sighed and gave in. “Yes, I have been married.”

“When?”

“A long time ago.”

“What happened?” said Noah.

“It didn’t work out.”

“I see,” said Noah, sensing his unease. “What’s your last name?”

“My last name?” said Joel.

“Yeah,” said Noah, innocent. But then he also noticed the birds. Their conversation dropped off a cliff. “Holy shit,” he said. “You see that?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Those are turkey vultures.” He was chewing on a stick, something he’d picked up off the ground. “They nest all over these bluffs.”

“Yeah, well,” said Joel. “Looks like they found something. Come on.”

Meanwhile, at the Lapp farmhouse, Ellie had wandered over to the bottom of the stairs. They were heavy and a dark wood. Everything about the house seemed really sturdy, but it also seemed really old. Things creaked and there were occasional dips in the flooring. “I think she’s upstairs,” she said. She thought she’d heard movement now from the floor above. But she wouldn’t call out Becky’s name, because it seemed like it might not be her place. She was a stranger here.

“Becky?” said Danielle.

"Hang on,” said Cici from the living room. She had redone her pony tail. It was high on her head now and twisted into a bun. “Looks like somebody’s coming to the backdoor.”

“What?” said Danielle. "Who?"

Concerned, Ellie came back into the kitchen space and placed her hand on the loom. Maybe she hadn’t heard anything after all. She glanced toward the stairs and then back to the door. There was a little window in the door, the shape of a semi-circle, and now a girl rushing up the steps, wearing a white dress and a little white kapp. She tried to get in, but it the door locked. She knocked several times, with urgency.

“Danielle?” said the girl. “Danielle, are you here?”

“Hey, is that Becky?” said Ellie.

“Becky,” said Danielle.

She went to the door, opened it quickly. Becky came inside, her small, pink hands on the slope of her pregnant belly. Her hair was very orange, almost striking. When she looked around and Saw Cici, then Ellie, she became alarmed. “Cici?” she said. “What’s going on?”

“Everything’s okay,” said Danielle. “Where’d you go?”

“I woke up, and you were gone. I went outside. I looked everywhere.”

“I found one of the sick in the barn,” said Danielle. She helped Becky to the kitchen table, where the two of them sat down. Becky seemed out of breath. “I went to find Cici and Noah to help.”

“Oh,” she said, relieved. “Goodness. I was so worried.”

“I’m gonna take care of the runner in the barn,” said Cici.

“Runner?” said Becky.

“She means the sick,” said Danielle.

“Oh,” said Becky. “Right. Cici, how is Noah? It has been a long time since I last saw you.”

“Noah’s doing just fine,” said Cici. “Congratulations, by the way. On your blessing.”

“Oh,” said Becky, re-situating in the chair. “Thank you. We are so grateful.”

“This is Ellie,” said Danielle. She came over from the table and held Ellie’s hand. It was unexpected, but Ellie just went with it. Her hand was warm and clammy. The floor creaked where she stood. “What was your last name again, Ellie?”

“My last name?” said Ellie. She hadn’t spoke it in such a long time. She looked down at her hand, inside Danielle's hand. “It’s Williams, I guess. Ellie Williams.”

“Ellie is new to the farm.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” said Becky, fanning herself with her hand. “But you’re so young. Are you one of the ones from town?”

“No,” said Ellie, growing increasingly unsure of what she should say. “No. I’m here with—well, it’s kind of hard to explain.”

“You needn’t worry,” said Becky, so sweet, but strange. Her hair was like a pyre. Her cheeks, nose, and forehead were violently freckled and her eyes were very blue and misty. Like planets.

“What was that?” said Danielle. She had dropped Ellie’s hand and was now staring up at the ceiling. They all heard it then, the sounds upstairs. It was a loud thud, then some skittering like a giant rodent, and then a door slammed shut. Ellie felt a chill in her bones.

“Holy shit,” she said. She rushed back to the stairs, held onto the railing like a baseball bat, got up on her tip-toes to to see. “I knew I heard something.”

“I got it,” said Cici. “Ellie, stay here.”

“You can’t go by yourself. It’s one of them.”

Cici had drawn her pistol. Danielle was backing away, toward Becky, who sat very straight. They both looked pale, almost shocked, as birds. “It’s inside?” said Danielle. “How’d it get inside? I locked it in the barn. I used the chains.”

“I’m guessing it’s not the same one,” Cici said. “Just stay here, be very quiet. And Ellie, if you insist on coming, you keep behind me. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Lead the way,” said Ellie.

Ellie didn’t have a gun. She’d left it in the truck. Still, she wasn’t scared. She had been through this now, so many times, with Joel. She knew what to do, and each of those fucking things she killed, since Tess, since Henry and Sam—since fucking Riley—she had recently decided: It was going to be vengeance. She wasn’t gonna take it anymore. On their way in from Pittsburg, she and Joel had stopped at a rest stop oasis in Ohio, foraged some food from a huge gas station there on the side of the freeway. She fell asleep, leaning against one of the shelves while Joel gassed up the truck, and she had a nightmare in which she saw Joel just standing in the hotel back in Pittsburg, water up to his knees, a bite mark in his hand. He told her he was going to take his own life and then instructed her calmly upon how to get to Wyoming. Take the I-80, he had said. He said it over and over again. She woke up unnerved. She had been clenching her jaw so that her teeth felt jagged. She never told him about the dream, but it, along with so much else, had changed her.

When she and Cici got upstairs, it was just a simple hallway with three bedrooms. One at the end, and two on each side. Only the door at the end of the hallway was closed. Based on the sounds they were hearing, it was a runner in there, hiding, probably terrified. They went slowly. Ellie could tell that Cici was gonna try to keep things quiet. The walls were painted white and very clean. Ellie gazed upon the quilts which hung there, just like the ones she had seen downstairs. There was something special about them. The colors were plain. Red, white, and blue, and the purity of such reminded her of the American flag. As she stared at the quilt, she got lost as she so often did and failed to realize that, as they were focused on the room at the end of the hall and approaching it in silence, there was another runner, vibrating real quiet in the bedroom to their right.

“Oh my god,” said Ellie.

The thing rushed them. It happened so fast, like a straight line wind, and when it went for Cici, Ellie didn’t think. It was a girl runner and not so big so she whipped it back by the hair and stuck her knife in its throat, five or six times till it died. The blood was everywhere. It was on Ellie’s face, her shirt, her hands. The sound of its death was loud, and as she dropped it to the floor, the other one came through the door, gnashing and alive. Its screams were horrifying. Even as she no longer feared them outright, the Infected were fucking demons. Ellie tripped over the dead one trying to get away, and just as she did, Cici raised her gun and shot the thing in the head, twice, point blank. It went down like a fucking sack of bricks. Ellie was on her ass and out of breath.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she said, shaking her head out like a dog. “Is that all of them?”

“Are you okay?” said Cici. She saw the blood. She hauled Ellie up and started searching her for marks.

“I’m fine,” said Ellie. “Are you?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” said Cici, though she seemed unsettled. “We need to get the hell out of here.”    

“What about Becky and Danielle?”

“They’re coming with us.”

“Cici?” said Danielle from the bottom of the stairs. “Ellie? Are you guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” Cici shouted down the stairs. “Just—just don’t come up here yet. It’s nothing you wanna see.”

Danielle said a prayer. She said, “Praise god that you came.”

Ellie tried wiping some of the blood off her face. It had gotten on her clothes, and she felt momentarily embarrassed. “What the fuck are we gonna do with these things?” she said. “We can’t just leave them here.” She looked at the quilt on the wall. It was a bloodied. Ellie was pissed off about this. She hoped they could just make another.

“Go downstairs,” said Cici. “I’ll wrap them in sheets and drag them outside.”

“I’m covered in fucking blood,” said Ellie. “I don’t want to freak them out.”

"They’ll understand,” said Cici. “We’ve been through this sort of thing before. Though the fuckers have never gotten in the house like this.”

“What do we do with the bodies?” said Ellie. “Burn them?”

“Yes,” said Cici. “There’s plenty of fuel. It won’t be too much work.”

She dragged the bodies out one by one. She then went over to the barn by herself while Ellie, Danielle, and Becky stood outside, by the truck, and waited. Cici lured the thing out and blew it to shreds with a pipe bomb. They doused the bodies with gasoline from a canister in the shed by the garden and set them on fire in the pit at the back of the property. Then, they all drove back to the scrapyard, and though they didn’t go inside, Ellie did see rows and rows of school busses, exactly like Noah had said. Cici got out, used a rubber hose to syphon several gas cans full of fuel for the generator, and then together they all drove back to the farm on the other side of the hill where they would be safe behind the electric fence.

Back in La Crosse, Noah and Joel had found the detritus that had been drawing the turkey vultures from the bluffs. It was a clicker, facedown with parts of its neck ripped out. Could've been dogs, or maybe its own kind.

"Centennial Hall," said Noah, once they got there.

"There it is," said Joel.

The building was straight ahead of them. It was tall, red brick, stately in its prime with massive pillars and a clocktower. Of late, it had been devoured whole by vines robust as ankle tendons. The clocktower was plagued by black scorch marks, too, and the grass surrounding was probably waist-high. There were no more signs, no banners or flags. The building seemed deeply haunted, with the wind whistling through its veins. The clouds were big on the horizon. Joel feared a storm.

He was getting that feeling again, too, like they were being watched. "Noah," he said.

But Noah was already headed to the clicker, the dead one, splayed out in the middle of the road. He threw a rock at one of the vultures, which had been picking at its clothes unscrupulously, and the thing hissed back to the skies. Noah crouched down to get a better look. He hadn't seen an actual clicker since the last time he was here, since his dad.

"Noah," said Joel, surveying the quaint and rural atmosphere. Something was not right.

"It's okay," said Noah.

But it wasn't okay. Joel had seen it first, the thing that was set to change them. The clicker wasn't dead. It flopped over onto its back, surprising Noah and sending him off-balance. He stumbled as it screeched its terrible song, and its face, up close, was like a demon. Joel was there before he had the space to react. He pulled the trigger on his shotgun, close enough so that its head seemed to explode off its shoulders. It went down. Joel grabbed Noah by the collar and looked him over good. He said, "Noah. Noah. You okay?"

Noah thought about losing his guts, keeling over in the street. It had been some kind of event, and he had never been that close before. "I'm fine," he said, exhilarated. "I'm okay."

"Thank Jesus."

They decided to ascend the clocktower after that. It was the highest point they could see, and it seemed a safe place for to find their respite, for now. They climbed a bunch of narrow, spiral stairs and then a ladder, and a lot of it was rotted or rusted, but they made it okay. When they got to the top, it was a small space with a window and a circuit breaker, an old empty bottle of booze but that was all. They looked out over the burnt-out college campus, how it had gone to seed and lost its innocence. They saw the clouds, too, gathering in the north, looking like a definite storm now, moving south with some speed, straight for them and for Viroqua thereafter. Leaning heavily with their backs against the wall, they caught their breath, and then Joel took the two-way radio out of his back-pack. He hooked up the repeater, something Noah's dad had rigged up a long time ago to help them extend the range of the frequency.

"We should radio your mom," he said, "before we head inside the hall. I don't know if it'll work. But on the off chance it does, we should let her and Ellie know we're okay."

Noah was in agreement, even as he spoke little. Joel found the channel and commenced his talking in the radio. Sylvia Plath, he said, loud and clear. Sylvia Plath, do you copy? This is Ryan Adams. We are okay. Sylvia Plath. Do you copy?  Do you copy?

[cravingmarvel]

Apartment - Epilogue

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Fem!Reader Warnings: Swearing, a little angst, sarcasm as always Summary:  You just moved from Germany to New York, working as an editor at a newspaper. So what happens when you find out your favourite actor lives in the apartment across from yours? And how will people react when you share your story on your Blog dedicated to him? What will you make of this situation? A/N: Wow here we are... the last of the last... I can’t believe that after 2 YEARS I managed to finish this series completely... I apologize for the time it took, but I just had no idea how to write it and in retrospect.. I’m glad I waited this long. A HUGE thank you to @buckisthatyou​ for helping me with this!!! I love you!!! 

Anyway... I hope you guys love this as much as I loved writing this and I’ll see you at the end of the chapter :)

MASTERLIST

Apartment – Epilogue

I carried the last of my boxes up the stairs, weighted down a little by the contents of it. This one got lost on its way here and I’ve been desperately trying not to cry over it. It’s been almost three months since Sebastian and I moved in together, but this little fucker had to get lost.

As I pushed the door open with my shoulder the light that flooded into the room filled me with butterflies. Just seeing the living room full of life and personality put the biggest smile on my face. I placed the box next to the bookshelf and started to unpack the books inside. I moved some of the cacti out of the way, they are definitely taking over the place.

I felt a hand on my hip and jumped slightly.

“Hey, how’s it coming along?” I turned to see Sebastian.

“Very nicely, but I do think we need to calm down about the cacti.” I pouted and he kissed my cheek.

“Hm, maybe.” I caught the cheeky smile as he walked away.

The move was easy, finding an apartment wasn’t. We came across a beautiful, two-story apartment in the heart of Manhattan that was pretty close to my new workplace. After my move back to New York, we went straight to looking for a place to share. He said he wanted it to be right in the heart of the city, but close enough to central park so our future kids could enjoy some greenery.

I laughed at him, but the thought still filled me with butterflies.  I was excited to share my life with him, even if that came with a price. Some people just didn’t like seeing him with me on his arm and they made a point in showing it. Just a few weeks after I came back, we made an appearance at some award show, the photos I was tagged in on Instagram were mostly nice, but a lot weren’t so. My dress was too tight, my hair done terribly, and I felt worse because I made those choices. It was me to blame.

Despite the weight I felt from those comments, I knew I could step away from it whenever I pleased. I don’t have to put up with it. No one does.

With the shelve decorated to my liking, the apartment was almost finished, there were a few pictures that I wanted to hang on the walls, but that could wait.

 Two Years Later

 “We’re having spaghetti tonight.” Sebastian called from the kitchen; he knew I’d love it. (The spaghetti, not him calling from the kitchen.)

The chill of the night falling over New York put me in the mood to get comfy. I climbed up the stairs to our shared bedroom, crossing the room to the closet. I decided to change into my pyjamas, a decision I did not regret as I felt the soft fabric on my skin. I investigated the mirror to admire my husky onesie. I look cosy as fuck and I feel cosy as fuck.

The table hasn’t been set when I came down to the dining room and Sebastian noticed my confusion. “We’re having dinner outside if you don’t mind.” He filled to plates with food and gave me a quick kiss as he walked towards the balcony. I followed him out to discover the table beautifully set with flowers and fairy lights.

“Oh wow. This is so fancy.” I said while sitting down opposite Sebastian.

“Thank you, I actually put a lot of effort into this. By the way, cute outfit.” I looked down to the fluffiness that I was wearing and in the reflection of the glass next to me, I could see how weird I looked. “Yeah thanks.”

The husky and the Prince.

We soon devoured our food and just sat and laughed while drinking an alarming amount of wine. New York has never looked so pretty; this might just be because Sebastian is the foreground of the scenery in front of me.

Suddenly, Sebastian stood up from his seat. His face lit up with a smile on his face as he slowly went down on one knee. I was just about to register what was happening, my jaw slightly dropping.

“Y/n.” Sebastian held my hand in his, a red velvet box in the other. “I never knew this day would come so soon. I always thought I’d be fifty years old, still looking for the woman who I’m going to marry. And then you came along. Standing at my door with your ridiculous robe.”

I chucked, tears swelling up in my eyes.

“So, will you, Y/n, do me the honour and marry me?”

I stared at him, the tears now rolling down my face. “Yes.” I breathed out.

He slipped the ring on my finger, a diamond reflecting a million rainbows in the light of the sunset, hovering on the horizon of New York. And it dawned on me.

I just got engaged to Sebastian Stan, and I’m wearing a husky onesie.

 -

 Sebastian decided it would be good for me and his sanity to hire a wedding planner, even though I told him I could handle it on my own. I hate having someone else step on my toes and interfere with my plans but listened to him anyway and hired someone who could help me organize the day and everything around it.

While I still had a whole month to prepare the final details, I was sure we covered everything necessary that involved the venue, decorations, dress and every other detail I could think of.

I shuffled my shoes from my feet and walked over to the kitchen making myself a nice cup of coffee. I got a text from Sebastian telling me that he’ll be home by eleven, filming dragged on until then unfortunately, but it gave me some quiet time to get back to going through my planner trying to catch any mistakes I made.

I’ve never really been one to dream of the perfect wedding, but since starting this project of mine, I felt my need for perfectionism take over.

I grabbed the little folder, my laptop and my phone walking to the couch. I snuggled into a blanket, putting my mug on the coffee table. After a few hours of flipping through pages and finding no mistakes at all, which was usually the case, I grabbed my phone, my thumb hovering over the Tumblr icon. I hesitantly tapped it logging into my account.

A thing I occasionally did was search my own name. I know I shouldn’t, but something vile within me couldn’t stay away from the opinions of others, strangers, online. I scrolled through endless amounts of posts about myself, cringing and cry laughing at some of the posts. The memes were the best part about it, some people were just too funny. I came across some fanfiction about me… yes fanfiction… about me, skimming over the words. They weren’t bad… it was just a little strange reading it myself, but who am I to judge? I wrote fanfiction about the same man I am engaged to once a few moons ago. Ok more like a year ago, but my point still stands. I can’t judge.

But all fun had to come to an end when I stumbled upon posts about me that just weren’t so nice to look at. Some poking fun at my body, the way it looked in a certain outfit I wore while I was out with Sebastian, some straight up telling me how old I looked and some saying that I’m just not the right fit for him. I couldn’t say they hurt, but a little part of me, the very insecure one, believed them. But something I haven’t come across yet popped up right after all that was a post about me being a fan.

I was slightly intrigued, pondering in my head whether I wanted to read it or not. I could shut my phone off right now, I could step away from this and breathe, but something pulled me in, sucked me right in.

I couldn’t say the post was disgusting nor was it far away from the truth the further I read. The person articulating themselves very well. My stomach turned and twisted.

-I’m just asking myself how she fell in love with Sebastian? How can she know for sure that what she feels for him is actually love? If I got together with him, I would ask myself this. Even if it hurts, I would still question my feelings towards him. Is it actually love, or just the fan inside writing its own fanfiction? And let’s take this even further, they’re getting married… what if she realizes that after all, what she was feeling wasn’t love, it was just the fangirl inside, fulfilling her own fanfiction?-

What if… I’m not in love, but rather satisfying the fangirl within me.

 -

 I awoke to the soft morning light peeking through the white thin curtains, a weight on my middle pulling me closer to the body laying next to me. Sebastian laid on his stomach, his arm draped over my back, his hand gripping my waist as he exhaled deeply. He was in a deep slumber, but still keeping me at his side which made it impossible to move away from him.

I worked hard on removing his arm from my body to climb off of the bed, looking back at Sebastian as he shifted in the bed, rolling over to his back. I walked over to the bathroom connected to the bedroom to proceed my morning routine. I took off my baggy shirt and underwear, stepping into the shower to wash off the sweat of the night. Sebastian surely knows how to keep me up to a time where I should be sleeping.

I felt my muscles relax under the warm water, my hands gently massaging my body with fruit scented soap.

I left the shower, wrapping a towel around me, to turn my attention to my skincare routine, washing my face, putting on my serum and moisturizing my face. The door opened to Sebastian walking in, hugging me from behind, kissing my shoulder.

“Good morning, love.” He said, sleep sill in his voice. Sebastian stepped into the shower and I changed back into the comfortable shirt.

I made breakfast for the both of us before I had to get to work, Sebastian had a day off and I envied him for it.

We ate breakfast and I headed to work, but not before Sebastian pulled me into his arms, kissing me passionately. He took my left hand admiring the diamond ring on my finger. “I love you.” He said and I was out the door.

I arrived at work, dropping my bag on the desk, since the summer holidays were on their way, so are the people wanting to get away with their children and spouses alike. I turned my computer on preparing myself for the eight hours of recommending hotels, flights and things to do at their destination.

My boss, Linda, walked up to me an apologetic look on her face. I braced myself for what’s to come.

“Good morning, Y/n.” She sat down in front of my desk, a sandwich on a plate on her lap.

“Morning. What’s on the menu for today? Anything special?”

Linda laughed, dropping her head. “Y/n, I have to ask a favour. I know your wedding and honeymoon are on their way, but there was an incident. By the way, how’s the planning and your husband to be?”

“Good… good, I have everything set, nothing seems to be missing but a couple thousand dollars in Sebastian’s wallet.” Linda found this one funnier, throwing her head back, almost dropping her sandwich on the floor. “What’s the incident?”

“You know how Beck has a habit of finding ways to destroy her leg?”

I nodded, calling back to the many times Beck has had issues in keeping her leg in one piece. Not that she’s breaking it, rather bruising the shit out of it.” “Yeah, I do.”

“Well she done did it again.” We laughed in union. It became an inside joke by now. “I need you to fly to London for three weeks to inspect and review this hotel right in the heart of the city. It’s under a new owner and quite a few things have changed, I could ask Annie, but she’ll need to find someone to watch her kid. Don’t worry, you’ll be back in time for your wedding, which by the way, I can’t wait for. I already have my dress!”

I stared at her for a second. A trip to London was the last thing I thought I’d be doing right now, especially with the wedding just four weeks away. I pondered and the idea jumped around in my head. It would be kind of nice, getting out of the city, get my head in the game. Maybe think about my intentions of marrying Sebastian… try to find out if the fangirl inside is responsibe or not.

“Ok, sure, why not.” I smiled, Linda clapping her hands together, her Sandwich threatening to fall once again.

 -

 I arrived at home, taking my shoes off along with my coat. Linda gave me a folder with all the necessary information about the trip and all the points I needed to check out.

The only person that I now needed to confront was Sebastian.

I walked into the living room, seeing him sprawled across the couch, wrapped in a blanket. “Hey, babe.” I said while approaching him. I sat down and laid his head on my lap. I leaned down, kissing his lips tenderly.

“How was work?” He asked, closing his eyes.

“Good. Y’know, a lot of people preparing for the summer.” I pondered for a moment, trying to find the right words. “Seb? I need to tell you something.”

He sat up immediately, his eyes looking onto mine desperately. He took my hands into his. I knew he was worried.

“I- I accepted a job to go to London for three weeks, to inspect a hotel, I know this is very close to our wedding date, but Linda said I was the only choice next to Annie, and she would have to look for someone to take care of her child.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow. First thing.”

Sebastian exhaled deeply, looking away from me. “Feels like running to me.”

“Sebastian…” I squeezed his hands in mine. “I’m not running, nor and I going to stand you up at the altar, I just… have to figure some stuff out.

“So, you are running? What’s there to figure out?” “Did I propose too soon, should we postpone the wedding?”

It was me this time, exhaling, looking away from him. “I’m not sure if the feelings I have for you are my own or just an imagination from the fan I was- still am!” I looked at Sebastian, pleading for him to understand. “I don’t want to leave on bad terms or move the wedding to another day. I just have to figure out if I’m going to hurt you.”  

His gaze finally met mine and I knew. I knew he didn’t understand the way I hoped he would.

“Y/n, I know that you love me and There’s nothing that changes that whether you were or still are a fan of me, I don’t give a shit. But if this is what you need to steer your mind into the right direction and lay your worries to rest, then do it.” Sebastian leaned in, kissing me softly. “I’ll be waiting for you, no matter what.”

Tears threated to fall down my cheeks, I didn’t know if this would resolve the storm within me, but I knew this was good, for both me and Sebastian.

We went to bed, holding each other tightly, tangled between the sheets, his hands on my body feverishly roaming every inch.

 -

 I packed my suitcase with my necessities, suddenly dreading my departure. I got a text telling me that my ride to the airport was downstairs.

As I stood at the door, Sebastian pulled me into a tight hug, whispering in my ear over and over how much he loves me and misses me already. I looked up to him cupping his cheeks with my hands pulling him down for a passionate kiss.

“I love you, Sebastian.” I couldn’t cry right now, but I’m sure he knew I wanted to.

He kissed the back of my left hand, his gaze lingering on the ring. “Come back and marry me, Y/n. I want to be your husband more than I wanted to be anything else.”

“I will.”

“I love you, Y/n.”

With that, I was out of the door, into the elevator. Mentally preparing myself.

 London, here I come!

-

A/N pt.2: YES!! THERE WILL BE A SEQUEL TO THIS MASTERPIECE!! I have thought about it, consulted with @buckisthatyou​ about it and have come to the conclusion that I need to write it. And because we all want to know what it’s called:

House. It will be called house and no one can stop me.

Anyway, since I already wrote a Thank You post I will keep it short and sweet. 

Thank you all for waiting for me to write this. If i had written it earlier, I probably would've not come up with a sequel. So everything has a purpose... right?

Thank you for reading and I will see you in

House!

[purplesurveys]

1093

survey by pinkchocolate

Hi there! This list is based on some things I've done recently. Let's say, within the last few days. Have you done any of these things in the last few days?

Worn make-up? I never wear makeup. I’ve never felt the need to.

Worn perfume? Sure. I went out last Sunday to bring Cooper to the vet and to take myself out to a coffee shop for a few hours, so I wanted to make sure I smelled decent.

Taken selfies? I think I may have, but I’m sure I deleted them almost immediately.

Shared some photos on social media? Yes, I posted a couple photos of Cooper because he was being super smiley the other day. I also shared a photo of my laptop, which was playing Friends, beside my Friends mug the other night.

Woken up to the sound of your phone vibrating? Technically. But this usually happens when I’m trying to fall asleep in the evening, i.e. someone sending a late-night message, and not in the morning.

Heard the rain outside your window? Yes. It’s literally happening right now haha it just started raining.

Added sugar to a mug of tea/coffee? No. I use 3-in-1 coffee packets, which are already pre-mixed and all I have to do is add hot water. I’m terrible with measurements and starting from scratch and I doubt I’ll ever get the hang of manually combining coffee + sugar + milk + creamer + whatever else goes into coffee haha.

Refilled your drinks bottle? I don’t use a tumbler. I’m at home nearly every day of the week so I always have access to our glasses.

Felt emotionally involved while reading a book? This has happened before for sure, but not in the last few days.

Chuckled/laughed while reading a book? Uhhh I guess. My employer recently lent me this book on PR that they thought would help me gain a richer appreciation of the industry and I guess I did lightly chuckle at a few humorous anecdotes in it.

Spilled a drink? I don’t think so.

Eaten something that was sprinkled with sugar? Nope. I’ve eaten sweets here and there but nothing sprinkled with sugar.

Googled the definition of a word? At least a few times a day.

Read a Wikipedia article? Yes, I love Wikipedia. The last entry I read was a list on notable last words.

Laughed at a video you watched online? So many times. The main reason I watch videos is to be entertained and to laugh, to be honest; so it’s nice that a lot of creators make great, funny content.

Craved a savoury snack of some description? I’ve been craving gourmet donuts for weeks now. Nothing sweet; I’m looking for those with creative, out-of-the-box flavors.

Cursed after dropping an item on the floor? Probably.

Been amused by your pet's behaviour? I am always amused at their behavior. Kimi’s approaching 13 years but he still makes me laugh every single day.

Recognized an actor in a TV show, from another show you'd seen? I’ve only been watching Friends, soooo nothing to compare it to.

Seen an actor on TV that you thought attractive? Courteney Cox, always.

Typed something in a word processor? I had to look this up lol, but I guess I have if Google Docs counts as one? I use it a lot for work.

Been asked a question that you found awkward or difficult to answer? Sure. My grandma called up when I was stuck in a particularly tough period of my shift and she was asking how it’s been. I didn’t want to worry her or overshare, so I paused for a bit and just said “it’s going great!”

Smelled a pleasant food aroma? Yeah, my dad cooks up some great stuff al the time.

Dipped your food in ketchup, mayonnaise or another sauce? Tartar sauce.

Forgotten a hot beverage, then found it had gone cold? I don’t make hot beverages, so.

--

survey by kellyburnsred

What music video do you wish you were in? I don’t watch music videos a lot, mostly because they’re usually not at all related to the song it corresponds to and I never saw the point. Buttt idk, the one I had some of the most fun watching was One Direction’s Best Song Ever because it was hilarious. It’d be cool to fuck around with the characters there.

Who makes you laugh the most? I’d say it’s either Andi or Hans. JM and Kate are good runners-up.

You only can eat three things the rest of your life, what do choose? That would make me sick of those foods so fast...but if it were a legit life-and-death situation, I would go with surf and turf (so that I at least have a bit of variety), rice (because I can’t live without rice), and macarons (for something sweet).

What's one thing you wish you had in your life right now? Macarons. I recently liked a slew of local macaron shops on Facebook and even though I know it’s my fault, I hateeee that my feed is filled with macarons now haha.

If you had to give up your style, what other style would you choose? I’m not really sure. I can think of more styles I’m not willing to adopt, than those that can be my back-up.

What's your favorite ice cream topping? Hot fudge.

What is the bare minimum of sleep you could function on? I guess 3 or 4, but that’s the barest of the bare minimum. I would still be cranky if I was only able to sleep for that few hours.

When you drive, do you generally speed? Yeah, if I can. You’re always stuck in traffic in Manila so if you have the chance to press harder on the gas, you typically wouldn’t want to miss out on it.

Are you an animal lover? Yes, except for pests and insects I don’t like, like cockroaches.

What's the dumbest thing you've done because someone dared you? I once ate a piece of siomai that already fell to the ground; when I ate it I felt a lot of tiny pebbles and other debris so I promptly spat it out in a nearby bin.

What is the most disgusting trait that you have? Idk...typical disgusting habits make me wince myself. The worst thing I can think of is that I tend to keep my nails super long just out of neglect; and I usually only clip them once dirt starts getting trapped under the nails, or once it starts to become hard to type.

What was the last thing you talked to your friends about? Angela had made this really cute, DIY foldable collage for Hans for his birthday yesterday and I just checked in on her earlier to ask if he loved it.

What part of your day do you look forward to the most? The moment my shift ends.

What are your favorite song lyrics? This week, it’s probably “It isn’t the same, but it is enough.” It’s oddly calming no matter how sad the actual context is.

Who are your closest friends? Angela and Andi.

What profession do you admire the most? All are worthy of admiration. I don’t really have a ~favorite~

Do you believe in karma? Not strictly in the spiritual sense; but it can be comforting to think that the people who have hurt me will have their ass handed back to them someday.

What do you think is the funniest show on TV? Ooh, I don’t watch a lot of TV anymore...I have a sitcom in mind but it ended 17 years ago and it’s still pretty polarizing to this day, lol.

Are you an organ donor? No.

Did you have imaginary friends when you were younger? Just one, but I didn’t get the point of it and I got bored very quickly.

Have you ever smoked weed? No but a friend knows a supplier should I ever want to start getting into it.

Who do you look up to for your style? Idk, whatever girls my age are wearing these days.

What's the most expensive thing you've ever bought? With my own money, probably the hotel accommodation I purchased for my dad’s birthday this weekend. I’m super stingy with my money and I can’t imagine spending 4 or 5 figures on something just for myself.

What's your favorite amusement park ride? Not too big on rides.

Who was the craziest teacher you've ever had? Ironically, it was my Christianity/religion teacher from 5th grade. We bumped into each other a few weeks after I graduated high school and his first remark towards me was about my breasts. He did a lot of stupid shit too when I was in 5th grade but I don’t feel like getting into them because he was just one big headache of a man.

Where would you like to travel that you have not been? Thailand, if within Asia; Spain if outside.

If you could be any musician for a day, who would you be and why? No thanks.

Do you have any tattoos? No.

What are your favorite scary movies? Some favorites are Carrie, The Shining, and Scream.

[toomuchofabastard]

Heaven’s Final Betrayal (4/6)

[ << CHAPTER 1 ] [ < CHAPTER 3 ]

Fandom: Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Aftermath of Rape/Non-Con, Dissociation, Consensual Anal Sex

Word count: 5,705 (total 15,475)

Fic Summary: It was obvious that Heaven wouldn’t exactly be thrilled about Aziraphale’s role in preventing Armageddon. But neither the angel nor Crowley could have predicted how far they were willing to go to get revenge, and now Aziraphale needs him by his side more than ever.

READ ON AO3

___

This time, Crowley woke to a face full of angel’s chest, the feeling of the carpet brushing against his knuckles, and irritatingly, in spite of his sobriety, a pounding headache. He cracked an eye open and was greeted with a close-up of Aziraphale’s face, looking pensively down at him.

Crowley smushed his face back into the angel’s waistcoat and mumbled something that might have been ‘good morning’. He felt a plump hand run slowly through the back of his hair. When he craned his head back up, Aziraphale was smiling faintly at him. They were still sprawled on the sofa where they’d lain together, bodies pressed close, long into the night. Crowley must have drifted off at some point. Damn it. He’d meant to stay awake as long as the angel was. He hoped he had been alright on his own.

He sat up, cracked his neck loudly, and yawned a little wider than he should humanly have been able to. Aziraphale also rose unsteadily next to him.

“You sleep at all?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale shook his head. His expression was muted and sombre. He looked tired.

“I was thinking,” the angel replied. “About what you said.” He sighed deeply, a sigh heavy with defeat. “You’re right,” he admitted again. “I can’t keep running away from everything. Burying my head in the sand.”

Crowley rubbed the angel’s thigh fondly.

“It’s going to take some time to come to terms with, that’s all,” said Aziraphale, with fake breeziness. Then he hesitated. “I… I didn’t really believe them capable of such…such…” He didn’t complete the sentence.

“Yeah,” responded Crowley, not really knowing what else to say. That much had been plainly obvious from the way the angel had reacted.

There was an awkward pause. Then Crowley spoke suddenly. “Me neither. For what it’s worth.”

Aziraphale glanced up and laughed lightly, hollowly. “I don’t know whether that makes me feel better or worse,” he said. Then his face settled back into melancholy.

Once again, Crowley didn’t know how to respond. Aziraphale just looked so desperately sad. Over thousands of years, he’d probably seen pretty much every one of the angel’s varied and histrionic repertoire of expressions, but this emptiness and misery broke his demonic heart. Even more so, the thought that there was nothing he could really do to fix it. This wasn’t a situation where he could drop a flippant remark or a line of verse worthy of the bard to light up the angel’s face. He didn’t have the words for this. But he supposed there was one thing he could remind Aziraphale.

“I’m with you,” he said simply.

That brought the angel out of his reverie for a moment. His face softened and he leant into Crowley, the corners of his lips lifting into another genuine smile. Still a shadow of his normal ones, but Crowley felt cheered nonetheless. He hugged him back.

“How ‘bout some breakfast?” he asked after a while.

Aziraphale seemed to contemplate that for a minute, but then he shook his head again. “I’m afraid I’ve… rather lost my appetite.” His face dropped again, his eyebrows pinching with remorse.

Crowley nodded. He supposed that was inevitable, though it still hurt and worried him. It was better than Aziraphale trying to force himself to act like normal, anyway. Fortunately, eating was just a pleasure, rather than a necessity, for them. He was sure they’d get back to it eventually.

He leant closer to Aziraphale again, cupped a hand under his jaw and kissed him softly on his pudgy cheek. “I love you,” he murmured. The angel blinked and smiled up at him again. He laced his hand on top of Crowley’s, eyes closing as he melted into the touch.

“I love you too,” he replied.

◥|⧗|◤

They didn’t do very much for the rest of the day, nor the days following. Aziraphale didn’t express any further interest in leaving the cosy sanctuary of the bookshop, which suited Crowley just fine. The rest of the world could wait. He’d flipped the sign on the door to ‘closed’ the second they’d returned, and as far as he was concerned, it could stay that way indefinitely.

Mostly, Aziraphale pottered about the shop like normal, shuffling books between the shelves in patterns apparently meaningful though inscrutable to Crowley, and sat in his comfy chair and cardigan, thumbing through some old volume, in a blanket of dust. He ignored the phone when it rang. At night, he dimmed the lights so that Crowley could rest, but he stayed awake through until the first beams of sunrise filtered between the window panes and the hubbub on the streets outside started up again.

Crowley watched him closely, and lay around, and dozed, and watched him some more. Occasionally, he tried to kill time by fucking around on his phone (ineffective, it transpired), but he always kept one beady amber eye on the angel.

There was something ghost-like in the way he moved sometimes. Drifting. Untethered. He didn’t hum to himself as he shuffled between the labyrinth of shelves, like he usually did. Crowley missed the humming. His limp seemed to have vanished, at least. Crowley hoped he was healed now. He found himself wondering if Aziraphale would even tell him if he wasn’t.

The angel hadn’t spoken another word about what had happened since that second morning, but Crowley could tell it was still nagging at his mind. He caught him sometimes, staring into the middle distance, deep in thought and with a grave expression on his face. As the days pressed on, blurring into one another, Aziraphale’s mood varied, but didn’t noticeably improve. Sometimes he seemed happy, and Crowley could make him laugh, and it was almost like he had the old Aziraphale back again, like it had never happened. Other times, Aziraphale might have seemed happy to anyone who didn’t know his moods so intimately, but Crowley wasn’t fooled. The fake smiles and cheerfulness returned, despite the angel’s promise.

“Angel, you’re doing it again,” he would say.

“I know, Crowley,” came the tired reply. “Please, just let me have this.”

And sometimes Aziraphale sat and just cried quietly, one hand pressed to his forehead, face marred with grief. Crowley didn’t say anything then, just sat with him in silence and stroked his back until the tears and stifled sniffles stopped. There was nothing left to say, anyway.

It was those times especially when Crowley felt the anger rising within him again. It kept bubbling up at inopportune moments, seemingly unprompted, like molten lava coursing through his arteries, scorching away every other emotion. Damping it back down was a herculean task, and unending, but the last thing he wanted to do was accidentally take it out on Aziraphale. And seeing as the deserving targets of his rage were out of reach - literally - there was nothing to be done with it. He could still feel it though, festering away inside him. Once Aziraphale was better enough that Crowley felt comfortable leaving him alone for a while, he was going to go someplace on his own and scream and howl and claw something - he didn’t know what - to shreds with his bare hands and set whatever was left on fire and watch it burn to ash. It still wouldn’t be enough. But it would help.

Until then, he would be as soft and gentle and patient as he, being a demon, could possibly manage. For his angel. He wouldn’t let him see.

◥|⧗|◤

Hence, he was sprawled out on the sofa one evening, trying not to physically combust, while Aziraphale lingered in the back room, making his first tentative mug of cocoa since it had happened.

It seemed to be taking him longer than Crowley would have thought. When the angel eventually emerged back into the main room and trailed over to where Crowley was sitting, Crowley shifted to face him. The smell of the cocoa wafted into his nostrils and lingered on his tongue, tasting sweet and warm, just like Aziraphale. But as he looked closer, Crowley noticed something.

There were ripples dancing on the surface of the liquid.

“You’re shaking,” Crowley frowned.

“Mm?” responded Aziraphale, blankly. “Oh. Yes.”

He eased himself into the armchair next to Crowley and rested the mug in his lap, glancing vacantly down at it. “Can’t seem to stop,” he muttered. Crowley’s frown deepened.

He leaned forward and tried to catch Aziraphale’s gaze. “Hey.” Aziraphale looked up.

Something was very wrong here. The angel was looking in Crowley’s direction, but as Crowley looked closer, he could see that Aziraphale’s eyes were not actually focusing on his face, but nearer, almost on some invisible plane between them. His gaze was empty. Just like before, Crowley remembered, and dread settled heavy in his stomach.

“Aziraphale? What’s wrong?” he asked, ardently searching those blank eyes for an answer.

The tiniest hint of a crease formed in Aziraphale’s eyebrows. His mouth opened to speak, but for a few seconds no words came out. His eyes drifted away from Crowley’s face and slid aimlessly around the room.

“I… don’t know,” he said eventually, his voice steady but distant. “I feel… strange.” He didn’t say anything further.

Crowley swallowed and tried to stifle the feeling of panic that was starting to rise in his chest. He scanned over Aziraphale’s body, as if searching for a hidden injury, or some clue as to what could have happened, why he was suddenly like this. The wax and wane of the angel’s breast as he breathed seemed a little heavier than normal, but not that significantly. He was still shaking slightly. The cocoa, now rapidly turning tepid, was cradled limply in his lap, like he’d forgotten it was there.

“Angel?” Crowley asked again. Aziraphale turned towards him, and the subtle lines of concern on his face deepened, but his eyes remained blank. His mouth kept moving like he wanted to speak, but couldn’t.

“Angel, please.” Crowley couldn’t keep the falter from his voice.

He clambered out of his seat and closer to Aziraphale. Aziraphale’s hands didn’t resist as Crowley quickly removed the mug to another table, and then grasped them tightly, squeezing in an attempt to get a response from the angel. “I don’t know what to do,” he implored. Still nothing. Shit. Shitshitshit.

In a final desperate attempt to elicit a reaction, Crowley threw himself forward into Aziraphale’s lap, burying his face in his stomach and clinging to him. “Come back,” Crowley whispered. “Come back to me.” He knew he was only talking to himself at this point. The buzzing of panic inside his head made it nearly impossible to think straight. Aziraphale would snap out of this eventually. Right? He had before. He had to. Crowley tried to breathe evenly. He had to.

A few, hideously-long minutes of silence and dread passed, until Crowley suddenly felt Aziraphale’s breathing quicken underneath him. There was a gulp, followed by a quiet, fearful voice. “…Crowley?”

“Oh, thank hell,” Crowley gasped. He looked up at Aziraphale, a dizzying wave of relief washing through him. The angel still looked petrified, but the emptiness in his eyes was gone.

“You scared me, angel,” said Crowley.

Aziraphale said nothing. He was breathing heavily, and his face was now pale and veiled with fear, confusion, and a hint of guilt.

“You were gone. What happened?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale swallowed again and his forehead creased further with distress. “I-it-it was like… nothing felt… real,” he stammered. “Not even y-you. I-I knew you were,” he added emphatically, “but… it was like I was… disconnected. Everything felt distant. H-hazy. Like I was floating.”

Aziraphale hesitated a moment, and then spoke again. “This, um, this keeps happening.”

“What?” Crowley’s eyebrows shot up.

“N-not as bad as that,” Aziraphale continued, licking nervously at his lips, “but since… you know… sometimes I’ve been feeling s-sort of… detached, and, uh, lightheaded. I don’t know why.”

He turned away from Crowley again, and Crowley saw his chin beginning to tremble. “…Am I losing my mind?” the angel whispered.

“Oh, angel. Why didn’t you tell me?” Crowley sighed.

Aziraphale just shook his head, his face crumpling. Crowley took his hand.

“It’s okay,” Crowley said. He thought for a moment. “D’you know why it was worse this time? Like, what set it off?”

The angel nodded, and bit nervously at his lip. “Th-there’s a book, in the back room,” he began to explain. “Um. Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management.”

He stopped.

“…yeah?” asked Crowley after a few seconds of silence, dipping his head.

Aziraphale seemed frozen again for a moment. Then he suddenly blinked back to reality and smiled reflexively, fleetingly, in Crowley’s direction. Crowley’s face darkened and he ran his thumb over the back of Aziraphale’s knuckles as the angel continued.

“Before Armageddon, after the birthday party, they - …Gabriel and S-Sandalphon - they, uh, showed up here to- to check up on me. Well…,” - his voice became hushed and he looked down - “…threaten me, really.” He swallowed loudly again, and Crowley felt a tremble run through his hand. His heart clenched in sympathy.

“Gabriel pretended that he wanted to buy it - the, the book -” Aziraphale continued, and he chuckled weakly, “-and declared it to be pornographic.” He rolled his eyes, making Crowley smirk despite himself. “S-So that we could talk in private, you see,” the angel explained. “They cornered me in the back room… They were standing on either side of me, so I-I-I couldn’t see them both at once, and they were asking all these questions, and Sandalphon was blocking the exit and-” His voice got faster and more breathless as he spoke, until he was almost panting through the words.

“Easy. Easy, angel,” Crowley cut in. “Breathe.”

Aziraphale nodded and his eyes closed. Crowley stroked his back as he wheezed and tried to get his breathing under control. Eventually he seemed to calm, and opened his eyes again.

“So when I saw the book in there, it-it reminded me… ” Aziraphale trailed off again.

He didn’t really need to explain any more. Crowley could intuit the cause and effect easily enough.

He pulled him into another fierce hug.

He’d never known. They’d come here, to Aziraphale’s home, just rocked up unannounced to intimidate him. Backed him into a corner and put the screws on him. Crowley could picture exactly how the ‘conversation’ would have gone. Satan below. Was there no sanctity they wouldn’t violate? Maybe he should have seen it coming after all. No wonder Aziraphale had reacted so badly to the reminder. The undercurrent of the whole situation was sickeningly similar to what had happened in Heaven.

Crowley held him close until they both calmed down. Aziraphale was the one to break the embrace this time, sighing mournfully as he did so. His eyes, half-lidded, dropped back to the floor. Crowley took hold of his hands again.

“I’ll get rid of the book,” Crowley said. That was the least he could do to help.

Aziraphale’s head jerked up. “Don’t destroy it!” he entreated.

Crowley smiled softly. Oh, how he loved this angel. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied. He cupped Aziraphale’s face in his hands and kissed him gently on the forehead. “I’ll take it to a charity shop or something.”

◥|⧗|◤

For now, Crowley hid the book with the theatre programmes, underneath The Sound of Music. No chance of Aziraphale happening upon it there. He might take the opportunity to get rid of that dratted thing too, while he was at it. It was only another reminder of those wankers in Heaven.

The days continued to slip listlessly by, like water gliding off a duck’s back. Now that he knew what to look for, Crowley began to notice when sometimes Aziraphale slipped into that troubling, vacant state. That’s what the whole drifting-around-like-a-ghost thing had been about. How could he have missed that?

The clue was always in the angel’s eyes. Glazed-over, duller than normal. The confirmation was in his response to questions. If he didn’t look over at Crowley, if there was a delay before his response, if the answers he gave were vague and scripted, emptily cheery. He seemed able to carry out his normal routine on the surface - even hold a simple conversation - but challenging that revealed the lack of consciousness underneath.

What worried Crowley the most was the effect this detachment from reality was having on the angel’s memory. Once he snapped out of it, Aziraphale couldn’t always recall what he’d been doing while he’d been in that state. This lead to painful conversations as Crowley had to remind him:

“You read that one yesterday, angel.”

“…Oh?”

“Yeah. You were sitting there for about two hours, I think.”

“I… I don’t remember.” He always looked so distressed and guilty once Crowley pointed it out. “I must have been… ‘away’… I suppose.”

Crowley thought maybe as time passed that the episodes were getting less frequent, but he soon came to realise that some were just so subtle and their routine so established that he had missed them. He hated himself for it.

Aziraphale’s voice, uncertain and fragile, drifted across the bookshop one late afternoon towards him. “Crowley? What… what have we been doing all afternoon?”

“We’ve just been here, angel,” Crowley replied as his heart sank. “You… you’ve been doing things with your books… you were on the computer for a bit…” Aziraphale just nodded hesitantly. Crowley could tell he didn’t recall doing any of that. Guilt and sorrow spiked through him. He should have noticed. Though even if he had, he realised, he couldn’t normally get Aziraphale to snap out of it. He would just stay with him until it stopped. He wished there was more he could do.

Otherwise though, Aziraphale seemed to be getting slowly better. He returned to regular mugs of tea and cocoa, even nibbled on a few biscuits. Cried less, smiled more. Proper smiles, not the previous pale imitations. Damn, Crowley had missed those smiles.

One night, they made their first foray into the outside world for well over a week - at least, as far as Crowley’s flat. Crowley wanted to check up on his plants, which he was sure were mounting some sort of insurrection by now, and it would do the angel good to get out, rather than languishing around the bookshop all day. They ended up staying, and cracking open a bottle or three of something red and alcoholic, collapsing onto the pristine sofa beside each other. It was good to relax a little. Crowley felt the alcohol slowly unwinding him, his body loosening like a string that had been left taut for too long.

Aziraphale got decidedly tipsy, but fortunately drew the line before booze-induced breakdown this time. He was actually… giggly. Crowley could scarcely believe it. He was even further taken aback when the angel suddenly leant close and pressed a quick, sparkling kiss against his unexpectant lips. A bolt of hot lightning seemed to shoot through him. He blinked at Aziraphale in surprise. The angel drew slightly back but kept his face intoxicatingly close to Crowley’s. He gazed up at Crowley, expression hopeful.

Crowley paused, finding himself lost in every detail of the angel’s face. Those blue eyes, locked onto his, so deep sometimes Crowley felt like he was falling into them, drowning in them. The little folds at the corners of the angel’s eyes and every other sketch-like line on his face, from thousands of years of laughter. The way the wine brought a rosy and cherub-like glow to his cheeks, and left a stain, red, on his lips, like rouge. Those lips. Soft, parted, eager. Crowley felt them pulling him inexorably forward, his own mouth parting to match the shape of the angel’s. He held his breath and closed his eyes as they met in the middle, interlocking perfectly together. Fuck, those lips were soft.

Aziraphale returned the kiss, slowly and tenderly, almost reverently. Crowley could taste the Cabernet Sauvignon in his mouth, matching the feeling of it still purring in his own throat. It was like he was drinking him in. The room faded from his awareness as they melted into each other. Crowley raised his hands to caress Aziraphale’s sides, drawing him closer. Aziraphale hummed contentedly and Crowley felt his mouth tighten with a smile as he leaned in and his kisses became firmer. His hand came down to rest on Crowley’s thigh. They felt so consummately fit together, like a set of matching fingerprints, like the quill and paper; made for each other.

As they continued to embrace, Crowley’s hands slowly trailed down Aziraphale’s body to press against his hips. Aziraphale recoiled suddenly and broke the kiss with a small gasp.

“Um, Cr-Crowley,” he stuttered, “I don’t know that I’m ready to-”

Oh, Crowley realised. He thought I meant-

“Hey, no, ’s ok. Didn’t mean anything by it,” Crowley slurred quickly. He reached for Aziraphale’s face and stroked the hair away from his temple with a soft smile. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Aziraphale broke into a matching smile. There were those little creases at the corners of his eyes again. The angel’s gaze floated down to Crowley’s lips, and he leant back in, his mouth seeking Crowley’s once more. Crowley happily met him as Aziraphale reached his arms behind Crowley’s head and crossed his wrists, locking the two of them together. Crowley placed his hands gently back on Aziraphale’s hips and rubbed around them and his lower back in the same rhythm as their mouths moving together. A great feeling of relief and euphoria flooded Crowley’s body as they kissed. This was how things were meant to be. The two of them as one, safe in the home they’d made, finding pleasure and joy in each other. It felt like finally being able to breathe out.

The stereo, neglected in the corner, quietly clicked into life, and began streaming out the mellow strains of whatever soul record Crowley had last left in there. Did he do that? Or were even more sentient machines in his life starting to develop their own opinions about the soundtrack to his and Aziraphale’s love life? Honestly… Crowley was too lost in their own world to give a damn.

They never went further than kisses that night, but around a fortnight later, they were back visiting Crowley’s flat again. Aziraphale had continued to improve in the intervening weeks, and they were back to something close to their normal routine. He’d opened the bookshop to customers again, albeit with much more restricted hours, and Crowley was more content now to leave him to do his own thing. The angel was eating properly again too, though maybe with less delight than normal. The zoning-out was still happening. Crowley hadn’t yet worked out what to do about that.

They found themselves sat on the sofa again, Aziraphale perched in Crowley’s lap, lips on his, and everything was quiet and peaceful. Aziraphale suddenly parted from him and sat back. Crowley raised a quizzical eyebrow at him.

“I think I’m ready to try,” Aziraphale said, fiddling with Crowley’s necktie.

“Try what?”

Aziraphale made a you-know gesture with his eyes and motioned with his head towards the bedroom.

“Oh,” Crowley said. He had wondered when - or indeed if - Aziraphale was going to want to go to bed with him again, but he’d been waiting for the angel to make the first move. He wasn’t actually expecting it so soon.

“You sure?” he asked. Aziraphale nodded.

Crowley couldn’t help but feel tense as they made their way into the bedroom. He didn’t want this going wrong. The weight of what had happened in Heaven seemed to be sitting on his shoulders like some wicked clawed creature, a constant pressing reminder of everything that had changed. But if Aziraphale said he was ready, well, Crowley could only take his word for it.

Aziraphale settled on the edge of the mattress and reclined back, pulling Crowley down by his scarf to lean over him. Hints of the angel’s cologne flickered in Crowley’s senses as their mouths found each other again. Aziraphale was kissing him more forcefully now. Crowley could feel the angel’s determination as his tongue hungrily searched his mouth. His uneasiness slowly began to fade away as he lost himself in the feeling and the smell of him.

Without breaking the kiss, Aziraphale lifted one arm and clicked his fingers. A thrill raced through Crowley as both of their clothes melted away. Aziraphale shuffled backwards, and then lay back on the bed and spread his legs, gazing up at Crowley through his eyelashes. The sight sent hot blood down to pool in Crowley’s already-aching cock. He slunk forward to join Aziraphale on the bed. The angel hooked his legs around Crowley’s waist and pulled him in. A huff of pleasure escaped from Crowley’s lips as their naked bodies came into contact.

It felt like it had been far too long since he’d seen Aziraphale like this. There was a craving aching through Crowley’s whole body: to touch Aziraphale, to explore his whole body with his hands, to massage and knead all the bare flesh on display to him at last. But having only one hand free, he contented himself with running it slowly up and down the angel’s thigh, loving the feel of the strength of muscle underneath all that ample softness. Aziraphale sighed gently. The angel reached a hand down to where they were pressed together and wrapped his hand around both of their cocks, rubbing slowly up and down. He was just as hard as Crowley. Crowley started to buck his hips into Aziraphale’s touch, relishing the waves of arousal the friction brought and the light moans that soon emanated from the angel with every movement. Clearly, the enjoyment was mutual.

Once he was almost-painfully hard, Crowley sat back up and, with a miracle, applied lube along his erection, shivering slightly at the cold. Aziraphale blinked deliberately as he likewise used a miracle to prepare himself. Grasping his cock, Crowley shuffled until he was in position kneeling between Aziraphale’s raised legs, and then he hesitated. He looked up at Aziraphale. The angel was watching his progress intently, his chest rising and falling heavily and mouth parted. He noticed Crowley pause and lifted his gaze, his eyes meeting Crowley’s. He looked nearly as nervous as Crowley felt, but still just as determined. He nodded earnestly at Crowley. Ok, Crowley thought. Here goes.

Aziraphale sighed quietly as Crowley entered him. Crowley let out a low groan and bit his tongue, eyes screwing up with pleasure, and pressed further in, until the tightness of the angel’s body completely enveloped his throbbing cock. Oh, how he had missed this. He’d almost forgotten how utterly divine it felt to be inside him like this. Aziraphale’s hands gripped the sheets at his sides and he moaned again, but it was a sound of pure ecstasy, not a cry of pain this time.

Reassured, Crowley began to fuck him, softly and cautiously at first, but with increasing passion as the exhilaration overtook him. Aziraphale lay back and let himself shift with Crowley’s movements, continuing to moan. After a while, Crowley moved to press down close against him, so that his hair kept flopping down into both of their eyes as he thrust, and their laboured breaths were mingling with each other. Aziraphale’s hands came up to dance lightly across Crowley’s back. Sharp, sweet arousal rocketed up and down Crowley’s spine to his shaft, and he buried his face in Aziraphale’s neck with a strangled groan of “angel…” Fuck, it felt so good. He was losing himself in the sensation, feeling the first hints of his orgasm building, when there was a sudden voice in his ear.

“Crowley… w-wait…”

Crowley froze immediately, and whipped his head up. Aziraphale’s face had gone slack and his eyes were blown wide and blank, staring straight past Crowley. His hands were still rested on Crowley’s shoulders, but the rest of his body had gone completely limp.

“Oh shit,” Crowley gasped. He pulled out as quickly and gently as he could and clambered off of Aziraphale, falling down next to him. “Angel?” he asked, aghast, as he clasped Aziraphale’s face and pulled him to face him. Aziraphale continued to stare, unhearing.

“Bless it,” Crowley hissed under his breath. The angel’s eyes were like two voids of emptiness, completely transparent. This was a bad one. A bad one. The worst he’d seen yet. Makes sense, he thought. But he needed to snap him out of it.

“Hey. Aziraphale,” he urged, massaging the angel’s cheeks. “Look at me. Focus on me.” Nothing. Crowley swore again.

On instinct, he grabbed the angel’s limp hand and pressed it to his chest, holding it there with his own. “Feel that, feel my heartbeat,” he said. Said heartbeat was fluttering and pounding so hard under his ribs that Crowley could practically detect its echoes through Aziraphale’s skin. “Focus on me,” he repeated. “Come back.”

He sat and waited for a response, holding the same position and concentrating intently on Aziraphale’s face, everything else forgotten. He hated being left alone like this, just waiting, with no idea what to do. Minutes trudged slowly by.

Eventually, the angel began to blink and Crowley saw the light return to his eyes, which shifted around as he took in his surroundings again. Crowley watched as he registered where he was and what had happened, and then the angel suddenly let out a little whimpered “oh” and collapsed into a mess of tears.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok,” Crowley said, and took him into his arms, holding him close.

“It’s not,” Aziraphale gasped. “This isn’t what I wanted to happen,” he sobbed into Crowley’s bare chest. “Y-You didn’t even get to…” He stopped, and his eyes flickered meaningfully down to Crowley’s groin.

For a second, Crowley didn’t know what he meant. Then it dawned. “Oh, fuck that, angel!” he exclaimed. “It doesn’t matter!” As if getting off was the main thing on his mind right now.

Aziraphale broke down into sobs again.

“Oh, angel, please don’t cry. It doesn’t matter, it’s ok,” Crowley said, and rubbed at Aziraphale’s face, trying vainly to stem the flow of tears down his cheeks.

This had been a mistake. He wasn’t ready after all. And of course, now he was beating himself up about it. Crowley couldn’t stand the idea of Aziraphale thinking he’d somehow let him down.

“They had to ruin everything, didn’t they?” Aziraphale said, his voice more bitter than Crowley had ever heard it. Crowley didn’t want to tell him that was probably the point, angel.

“I can’t even make love to you anymore,” Aziraphale continued miserably. “What if I never manage to?”

“Then we won’t anymore. It’s alright.”

Aziraphale sniffed. “That’s not fair to you,” he said.

“Look,” Crowley said. He lifted Aziraphale’s face to his and stared him intensely in the eyes. “I survived six thousand years not having sex with you, angel. I can do another six thousand, and six thousand more, however long. Eternity, happily, if that’s what you need.”

Aziraphale gazed at him, misery and love intermingled on his face, but didn’t reply. Instead he just reached for Crowley and curled up around him, still weeping fitfully into him. Crowley cradled him, heart aching, until Aziraphale eventually finished crying and drifted into a deep, exhausted sleep.

Crowley was still cuddling him when they awoke to the light of the morning. Aziraphale blinked sleepily and shifted closer to Crowley, resting his head on Crowley’s ribs. He looked worn out.

“Are we going to talk about last night?” Crowley asked him.

“Why?” Aziraphale said, and he perked up suddenly. “Do you want to try again?” he asked, face eager.

“No!” Crowley snarled with exasperation. “For Satan’s sake, angel. I want to make sure you’re ok.”

Aziraphale’s face fell. “I’m fine, Crowley,” he responded tersely.

“You cried yourself to sleep, angel, you are not fine,” Crowley snapped back, a note of anger slipping into his tone. Aziraphale just closed his eyes and sighed wearily.

Crowley took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. God, why did getting him to admit his feelings have to be like pulling teeth? he thought, though the hypocrisy of the statement wasn’t lost on him.

“Why are you so focused on this as the be-all and end-all of our happiness?” he asked gently.

Aziraphale looked at him and sighed again. “Because… I like having sex with you, my dear. I want to have sex with you. I enjoy this aspect of our relationship,” he said. “And if… if I can’t do that anymore, it’s-it’s like they’ve won. I don’t want this to be another thing they’ve stolen from me. They’ve already taken so much.” His voice wobbled slightly. “I just want to feel whole again,” he finished.

Crowley sighed too. “Ok,” he murmured. “I understand.”

He twisted a finger distractedly through Aziraphale’s shining curls. He could understand that. The struggle to keep something of yourself when everyone around you seemed bent on trying to break you apart. He wanted Aziraphale to be happy again as well.

“Just remember, as far as I’m concerned, you’re already whole,” he reminded the angel. “And… try not to pressure yourself too much, ok?”

Aziraphale smiled weakly and nodded. Crowley hugged him tight.

“You know I’d do anything for you, angel,” he said, trying to make it sound as deeply sincere as he meant it.

“I know,” Aziraphale replied, his voice warm with affection, and squeezed him gently back.

They snuggled together for a few more quiet minutes, and then Aziraphale spoke up, coyly. “Does ‘anything’ include… fresh croissants from the bakery on the corner?”

A smile cracked wide across Crowley’s face. He propped himself up on his elbow and gazed down lovingly at the angel. “Are fresh croissants vital to your continued health and wellbeing, angel?” he asked humorously.

“Well, they are rather,” Aziraphale replied with affected indignation. He blinked up through his eyelashes, pouting slightly.

Crowley smiled again, then bent over and kissed him right on the tip of his upturned nose. He never could resist that face.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, untangling himself from the sheets. Aziraphale beamed.

[hbostolemysoul]

Band of Brothers fluff alphabet: Joe Toye

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Walking into camp Toccoa had been terrifying for you, not that you would let it show. Having gone through basic training you knew better than to show your ‘girly’ emotions around the guys. That being said having every single set of eyes on you as you walked through camp was nerve-wracking. Most of the men stared at you, some whistled, but most of them left you alone.

You didn’t really have a problem with any of the men until you were out at a local bar one night enjoying your weekend pass. Cobb had seemed like an okay guy, a bit cynical and bitter at times but your interactions had been limited. He approached you, spilling some of the beer in his mug as he invaded your space. Clearly, he had overindulged, and his comments towards you went from inappropriate to near threatening as you denied his advances. Turning to leave you were yanked backward, your lower back slamming into the table behind you. At this point some of the men around you had taken notice, some looking like they wanted to step in, but also not wanting to add to the building tension. You felt your face flush, you broke Cobbs hold on his arm and he stumbled a bit.

As you turned to leave you hear Cobb sputter “Hey bitch”,

You turned on your heel and instead of throwing a punch at Cobb you were surprised to see Toye, Joe Toye if your memory serves you correct, with Cobbs collar in his fist muttering a quiet threat to Cobb to ‘leave the lady the fuck alone’. Behind Toye you could see Guarnere, Randleman, and even Lipton looking ready to back him up should the need arise.

Cobb backed down and stumbled back to his seat on the other end of the bar. Toye turned towards you, hand extended as he introduced himself. The boys ended up inviting you to their table while sitting you leaned closer to Toye,

“I appreciate the sentiment and all, but I could have handled that myself” Joe gave a gruff laugh,

“You flatter yourself too much sweetheart, I stepped in for his protection, not yours”, that got a laugh out of you. You and Joe got on pretty well after that.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

Joe had dropped out of high school in his junior year to work in the mines to help support his family. He had been raised to put family first and should he ever get married or have kids their wellbeing would be his first priority.

After losing his leg and spending about 9 months in hospital he is at a loss as to what he can do for work. Before the war, he had worked in the mines and mills but without his right leg, those were no longer options. He wrote to you and in his own ‘tough guy’ kind of way expressed that he felt lost. He did eventually find work as a drill bit grinder at one of the mines in Reading, Pennsylvania.

When the war was over, and you had been shipped back home you decided to visit Toye. You two had always had an easy friendship, so coming to visit felt pretty natural for both of you. A one week visit extended to several, to you eventually moving into his guest bedroom, to said guest bedroom being made into an impromptu nursery.

Your pregnancy hadn’t been planned, but you and Joe took it in stride. Your friendship had always been an easy one, and when you two sat down to talk about things it became apparent that you both had been harboring ‘deeper’ feelings for each other.

You were a champ through the delivery because that child was by no means small. A hearty little thing that was a perfect mix of you and Joe, just having them in your arms made up for the 21 hours of labour you just went through, not that you would tell Joe that. Him doting on you had been kind of nice, and you were going to milk it for as long as possible.  

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

You will usually fall asleep close together, and wake up your back to Joe’s chest, his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

Joe is a pretty simple guy, beer and pizza. You also happen to like those things so you two often just order in and hang out. When his leg isn’t acting up you two sometimes go down to one of the local bars. If it’s a particularly good night Joe will even dance to a slow song or two with you.

E = Everything (You are my __ (e.g. my life, my world…))

“You are the toughest little thing I have ever met, y’know that?”

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

You and Joe had talked about ‘feelings’ and what not when you first found out you were pregnant. While you both knew you loved the other the words hadn’t been said yet. Truthfully, they hadn’t felt right until Joe saw you with a hand on your lower back, gently scolding the child within you for “kicking my damn bladder again”. Joe wasn’t a super touchy-feely guy, but for whatever reason, he just blurted the words out. It was kind of funny as you looked up at him, he blinked owlishly at you as if shocked by his own admission. You just grinned and waddled over, raising on your tip toes you place a gentle kiss to his mouth, “Love you too. Do you think we can get pizza for tonight? I really want olives”.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

Don’t get me wrong Joe can be very gentle, but that doesn’t mean you always want him to be gentle.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

Again Joe is not super touchy-feely, but when the mood strikes him he has no problem taking your hand in his larger one.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

He had seen you around Toccoa, and he had heard enough about you from the men to feel familiar enough with you. Prior to the ‘Cobb’ incident, you two hadn’t really crossed paths. What he remembers clear as day was how you were definitely going to lay Cobb out on his ass if he didn’t step in. Not that the guy didn’t deserve it. After talking with you that night he realized that you were quite funny and would totally take a guy down should the mood strike you. What can he say, he liked you.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

Joe can get jealous, it happens more now that you two are officially together than it did before. Sure while overseas he would get annoyed with the way men would look at you, flirt with you, touch you, breath in your general vicinity, but hey you were just friends so he kept his feelings in check. But now that you are together he gets to pull out that ‘back the fuck off’ look that he does so well.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

You honestly don’t remember. You two had been bickering about whether pineapple had a place on pizza and somehow your mouths ended up together.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

Joe did. You had been standing in the kitchen muttering to your acrobat of an unborn child when Joe just blurted it out. It had been sweet, and so uniquely Joe that it was kind of hilarious. (Also you did get that pizza you asked for)

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

The first day you came to visit after the war had been pretty great. You two didn’t realize how much you had missed each other until you were in the same room. You two had stayed up late that night, drinking beers and just catching up. Joe also ‘forced’ the photos of Guarnere’s various kids upon you. What the hell else was he going to do with all those photos anyway?

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Pizza is kind of your thing. You two aren’t particularly materialistic, so it’s the simple things that keep you two happy.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

Red. You are fiery, funny, and a total badass (beast in bed).  

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

Sweetheart (not in a sappy way, but like totally Joe if that makes sense?!)

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

He has an old watch that his dad gave to him. The watch face is cracked and the battery died long ago, but it came from family so it means something.  

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Joe’s leg acts up when it rains, “something about the pressure systems or some shit” as he likes to say. So you two usually stay in, sometimes playing cards.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

Joe (tough guy) doesn’t get sad, his head just gets cloudy sometimes. Pizza and beer usually fix it, until baby Toye comes along. Joe likes to have ‘conversations’ with your babbling baby, it literally keeps them entertained for hours.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Day to day life stuff mostly, “Have you seen the remote?”, “Why is our child covered in peanut butter?”, “Have you seen my watch?”. You know. Normal things.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

Joe will never admit it, but he loves napping with the baby. He will never admit to needing the naps though, always some excuse “The kid was already asleep. Seemed like a crime to get up and disturb ‘em”.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

Again Joe isn’t very materialistic, or showy. He is just happy to have the things he does, (You, baby Toye, a reasonable distance between the Guarnere clan and your home)  

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

The topic of marriage comes up occasionally, but you and Joe never really felt the urgency some other couples have. It wasn’t until baby Toye had tuned into ‘full on tiny human Toye’ that the conversation comes up seriously. Mostly because you kid straight up asked “Why don’t you just ask mom to marry you already?”.

You guys had a small ceremony, your families and friends came to the reception afterward. Guarnere full on cackled when he found out how you two ‘got�� engaged, he then promptly high fived your child.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

Guest Room- Echos

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

You two had tossed the idea around, it wasn’t until your child literally scolded you that you two got your act together.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

Joe had a clear dog or nothing rule. Until your child came home with this mangy cat that they were clearly in love with…It took Joe about two days to come around, but he most definitely did not fall asleep with the cat on his chest. No, that never happened.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #228

“blood on her skin, dripping with sin, do it again, living dead girl.”

How many sugars do you like in your tea? Man, I find A LOT of tea or coffee questions in surveys. Anyone who reads these knows by now I hate tea. Ever heard of a band called The Dresden Dolls? I fucking love "The Gardner," but it's the only song I know. What was the last movie you saw that made you laugh out loud? Idk, I watch movies so rarely. Who’s your favorite superhero? Deadpool, if you count him (technically an anti-hero, I kno). Otherwise, I don't really know. Possibly Spider-Man. What does your regular attire consist of? Pajama pants and tank tops lmaoooo. Popsicles or Ice cream? Ice cream. Are you good at solving math problems in your head? It's almost impossible for me to. Even simple addition. What kind of M&Ms do you like best? Normal chocolate ones. What is the last thing you tried on in a store? Uhhhh I think formal shirts when I was actually working on getting a job... Are you comfortable enough around your friends to change in front of them? No. Does your best friend wear makeup? No. Have you ever dated someone in secret? No. How do you get splinters out? Tweezers. Do you ever send people good morning texts? Sara sometimes. Is there someone who makes you blush when you just say hi to them? No. Do you kiss your pets? Of course. Why did you go to church the last time you went? My then-friend was having a serious "reborn" and devout Christian phase. Who’s the richest person you know? I don't know. How old is the oldest person you know? I also don't know. 90-something. Who's the last person who asked your name? My math professor needed a refresher when handing out test results. Have you ever been so drunk you couldn’t even talk right? No. Do you know anyone with a million middle names? I know someone with three or four. Do online dating sites ever work? For some people. When you were a teenager, did your parents set rules about dating? No. Have you ever lived with a person who you tried to avoid at all costs? No. Have you ever committed a crime that directly harmed another person? No. Did you grow up in an urban, suburban, or rural area? I guess suburban/rural mix? Which disease do you personally think is the most horrible? Alzheimer's. What is your worst childhood memory? I mean it depends on what stage of childhood, but I'm going to assume you mean like, pre-pre-teen years. In that case, just my parents fighting. Do you remember where you first drove to after getting your license? N/A What did you get into trouble for the most when you were a kid? Fighting with my little sister, probably. What is your biological sex? Female. What is the oldest gaming console you own? A GameBoy Advance. Of all the houses you’ve lived in, which has been your favorite? If you excuse the bad memories, my previous one. Do you get sunburnt easily? Oh yeah. What’s the color of your front door? White. Your favorite ice cream flavor: It alternates between just plain chocolate and vanilla. How many people have you been really in love with? Twice. Your favorite song at the moment: "Necessary Evil" by Motionless In White feat. Jonathan Davis. What’s most important for you? My well-being. Do you snore? No. What are you looking forward to right now? Mark's next big project comes out October 30th and I can't physically wait, but after that, all I care about is December getting here so I can go up to Sara's. What’s the earliest you’ve ever had to wake up for work? N/A Do you use reusable shopping bags to reduce waste? No, but I wish... I don't do the shopping in my house, so it's not really my decision. How many times have you moved? Three times *really*, but you could kinda say four when Jason, me, and our two friends/another couple moved into an apartment together; my name was in no way involved as being an official resident, but it eventually came to a point where I was there every day and night for quite a while. Do you know anyone who has changed their first name? Yes. Do you know anyone who has been on life support, and survived? No. Do your parents have a strong relationship together? HA HA fuck no. They've been divorced since I was like 16. Have you ever read any of Charles Darwin’s works? No. Do you think there are more dimensions than what we’re able to perceive? I lean towards no, but it's possible, sure. Does anyone in your family have schizophrenia? Yes. Do any of your neighbors have loud children? No. Who would you say is your hero? Mark, my mom, Sara. You can only shop at one store for the rest of your life where would it be? If you're talking about in order to buy everything, from food to clothes, I'd have to say Walmart. Do you text type or do you type out all your words? Mostly the latter, but I'll use "lol," "otw," stuff like that sometimes. Have you ever given money to a homeless person? No. I'mma be real honest, I don't think I ever would. I just DO NOT trust people. It's fact that the money is usually used for alcohol and drugs, and I've seen news of more than enough posing assholes. Who are you living with? My mom and pets. What are your opinions on colored contacts? Cool as fuck, wish I could wear them. Are you comfortable with your body? Fuck no. What is one thing in your life that is no longer there, that you miss? A social life. What do you believe is the best thing about being a kid? No responsibilities. Life is just simpler. Last time you had a s'more? Shortly after Sara left when she visited. We had leftover stuff so Mom and I made a few. Do you like peppermint candy? Yeah. Do you like spearmint or peppermint gum better? Peppermint, I think. Do you prefer fruity flavors over minty ones? Yes. Do you have a little Pink brand dog from Victoria’s Secret? No. What is the last thing you blew? Idr, I'm sure some kind of food. What’s the last gift you received? Sara got me a mug with a super relevant Markiplier quote sobs- What did your parents do today? I don't live with my dad so idk, but I know my mom's at work. What is the symbol for your type of computer? It's just the brand name. Do the clothes you’re wearing have any type of symbol on them now? Skulls. Do you like peas? NO. Where is your favorite place to be massaged? I wouldn't know, but probably my shoulders? Do you like composition books, or spiral notebooks? Spiral notebooks. The person you like, what color eyes do they have? Brown. So what is your favorite physical feature about that person? She has a freckle on her hip that is so fucking cute. What kind of four wheeler do you have? I don't have and never have had one. Do you live where there are a lot of cows? Sure, I guess. What is your favorite animal with spots? Probably snow leopards. Give me your opinion on sports. I don't have a problem with them (save for like, boxing and ones that can seriously harm people), but I'm not into them. Why do you play the sports you do? N/A Do you actually care about your school work and what grades you make? Yes I care. Do you have a typical family, or a weird one? Honestly a pretty broken one. Do you have a favorite letter? Probably "z," particularly in cursive. From the room you're in can you hear a door shut when someone arrives there? Sometimes. What states have you been to in the past year? Just NC and Illinois. Well, I obviously flew over other states, but I've only stayed in those two. Have you ever sleepwalked? I have not. Do you want children? Why/why not? "Hell no. I don’t like kids and I don’t want the rest of my life to be centred around one." <<< That's a great description for myself as well. I know I would be a fucking awful mother, too. Not as in I'd be mean to my child, absolutely not, it's just I barely manage to take care of myself a lot of the time. I'm not emotionally fit for that job and the stress it entails, at all. And yeah, being willing to make someone else my world is something I'm never doing again. I want my attention to stay on myself, my spouse, and pets. Do you have any credit card debt? Hi, I'm 23 and don't own and never have owned a credit card. Who do you go to for relationship advice? Honestly, I don't. I look within myself for those answers, really. I think I'm pretty intelligent and aware of how to maintain a healthy relationship. There's been times I've talked to my mother about things, but yeah, she's not the greatest to talk about all that with. What was your favorite way to spend a summer day as a kid? Swimming. Have you ever been scammed? Not successfully. I think. Did you ever take a personal finance class in school? None were offered at my high school. I don't know if they are now at my college, though, but I don't think so. They need to be, and mandatory. I don't have the slightest goddamn clue how to handle money. How’s your mental health? Are you feeling well? I'm going through a rough patch right now. School is stressing me. Not having a job and struggling with money to the extreme is about to make my hair fall out. Do you struggle with acne? Not anymore. Did you have a Xanga page back in the pre-Myspace days? I've never had a Xanga. Around what year did you start using the internet, anyways? I was like, 9-10? Maybe even earlier with Webkinz and Neopets, idr. I know I started RP in 2005, and that's when I was very actively online. Do you have any uncommon interests or hobbies? A few. Forum RP is definitely the "weirdest," hence why I hide it publicly. Then there's photographing roadkill. The LOOKS Mom tells me I get when I'm on the ground next to a dead animal, lol. I've had questions, stares, and cars turn around aplenty to make sure I'm okay. I'm really self-conscious about doing it, but I really love doing it for the purpose of forcing eyes onto just how brutal roadkill can be because of us, and the validating comments I've gotten about it online pushes me to keep going with it. Well, that and of course just sincerely enjoying it. That being said, I like gore - in moderation, and some kinds are just off-limits without me getting grossed out. "Vulture culture" (the use of naturally deceased animals in some form of artwork) is also something I am very very interested in. Wet specimens of anything are cool as all fuck. There's a load of unconventional things I enjoy. What temperature do you keep your thermostat set at in the winter? Uhhhh idk, 70-something. Have you ever fostered an animal? No, but I am 110% fostering opossums once I get my own place and am authorized and properly equipped to do so. What is something you thought you’d never like, but you enjoy now? Hm. OH, ketchup. I hated that shit as a kid. Did your parents ever not let you watch any television shows as a child? Yeah, but none in exact come to mind. Basically like, MTV and stuff like that was a big no. How old were you when you had your first kiss? Who was this kiss with? I just turned 16. It was with Jason, my first "real" boyfriend. Have you ever betrayed one of your parents in any way at all? Doing what? I don't think so. What are your favorite stores to go to when you visit the mall? Hot Topic and Spencer's is like all I care about that we have available near here. Has anyone ever told you they don't like the way you run your life? Ohhhhhhhhhh, I wasn't the only one who experienced that with her. At all. Does it bother you when you comment someone’s pictures and they don't even comment you saying ‘thank you’ or comment one of your pictures? I find it rude if they in no way acknowledge a compliment, yes, but you don't have to say thanks. Just like, like/hearting the comment (I'm using Facebook as my platform here) says enough to me that you're appreciative. Now for the second half of the question, that's stupid. I don't care if someone doesn't comment on a picture. Or anything. When was the last time you had a shot? Are you behind on those right now? I had a few numbing shots into my gums when I had a cavity filled early this month/late last month since my tongue ring finally caused one. I'm not behind on any required ones. Have you ever had a really rare disease, virus, or illness? Really rare, I don't think so? When was the last time you just, genuinely went somewhere with friends? Been a looooooong time, idk. Probably not since I was still friends with Colleen. Would you consider yourself a hygiene freak, or do you not care much? Neither of those fit me. Though I'm more likely to neglect myself out of the two. It depends on how I'm doing. That hasn't entirely healed since recovery. Are you old enough to live by yourself or are you just mature enough? I'm definitely old enough, just not independent or healthy enough, or financially capable. What is one thing you stopped doing just because everyone else stopped? I've never moved with fads. Have you ever been considered the freak of your class at any time in life? "Freak" seems a bit strong of a word, but "the weird kid," probably. Have you ever been to a Sea World before? Which one in which state? As a kid, yes, in Florida. I wouldn't now as an adult; I do not even remotely support their captivity of whales. I don't know all the facts behind their business so can't speak for all the animals, and I am not against all animal captivity so long it is providing and with good purpose (conservation, education, etc.), but nothing will make me pay to support the incredibly incompetent housing and mistreatment of whales. Do you believe in any kind of magic? Is it the stereotypical kind? *shrugs* I mean I dunno, define "magic," I guess. I personally believe some form of greater intelligence created the universe, and I suppose that's "magic." The person I copied this from brought up a great point, too: Science itself can seem pretty magical, so where do you even draw the line? Ex., the evolution of caterpillar to butterfly. That shit's fuckin' wild. A living thing melts to mush and is reformed in an entirely and completely new body. With wings, dude. There are truly a lot of natural things that occur in our world that make that line we've created blurry. Are you currently working on any kind of project at this moment in time? An argumentative essay on climate change in College Writing, if you call that a "project." I haven't started writing truly in-depth yet and may switch my focus to arranged marriages (seems random, yeah, but they're from a set list of options relevant to the book we read), only because I get fucking heated talking about climate change, and our professor made a point of not "preaching," and I also have to be capable of writing a paragraph of concession, that being an acknowledgment of the opposing point and considering its views, but. I don't think I could give climate change deniers' mindset even a sliver of genuine thought. As absolutely awful and appalling as they are, at least I can see a reason (a terrible one, but you get me) like hastening procreation in arranged marriages. Okay wow rambling ANYWAY yeah, in the starting stages of writing an essay. Which do you do more: read books, spent time online, or watch television? I'm like... always online, so yeah. What do you do the most when you’re online? Listen to/watch YouTube. Which foot is bigger, your left or your right? I don't know, I've never noticed. Do you think you’re too old to go trick-or-treating? Personally I believe anyone should be able to, but by society's standards, I am. Do you have a bobblehead? No. Have you ever had a themed b-day party? As a kid, yeah. Were you afraid of heights as a child? Nope. Do you think it’s stupid when you’re dying to have someone pray that you don’t feel afraid? (I would want them to pray that I live, personally) No? I don't believe that there's power in prayer period, but it's kind, realistic, and encouraging to hope they stay unafraid. Death is natural and happens to every single living thing, so truly, we shouldn't fear death all too much. What’s the strangest thing you’ve wrapped a present in? Uh nothing? Do you enjoy and appreciate life? Or is this something you need to learn? I appreciate it very much, but I do need to learn to enjoy it more. Have you ever made a pom-pom out of yarn? No. Have you ever had a lead role in a play? N- oh wait, in Sunday school as a young child, I was Mary in one. I don't remember HOW large the role was, but I would assume it was relatively big. Do you know how to use iMovie? I've never really tried it. I could probably figure it out pretty quickly, though. Would you raise your kids differently than your parents raised you? In some ways. For one, I would fucking not spank them. What was the best part about college? I most enjoy the flexibility of my schedule. It's not a 7-hour or whatever day every weekday. If you were homeschooled, did you come up with a school mascot? If so, what? N/A How many times a day do you check your cell to see if you have a text? Whenever it vibrates. Ever wonder if the person you hate will become the person you marry? *Hated but lmao that might just happen. If you could live in three places, a year each, where would they be? Germany, California, and maybe Canada. Your choice of transportation for anything: camel, jet pack or carriage? Carriage, probably. Think of a movie and now give me that movie title: The last person said Titanic so now I'm thinking romances, so The Notebook. Quote a line from that movie: "Tell me I'm a bird." "If you're a bird, I'm a bird." I wanted that as a tattoo with my spouse one day once upon a time. Aw! A line from your wedding vows is now: I want to recite the Corpse Bride vows with my partner. I don't feel like looking them up rn. Name a song: "God's Gonna Cut You Down" by Marilyn Manson, 'cuz that's what I'm listening to. What’s a line from that song? "Sure as God made black and white, what's done in the dark will be brought to the light." Name your two favorite characters from a TV show or movie: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. Lust and Envy, probably. When was the last time you fell asleep in a car? I dunno. How often do you think about death? Not too often? Do you believe what comes around goes around? Not always, but cause and effect makes it so sometimes. What about everything happens for a reason? NOPE. Can you sing? Not well. What kinds of little advertisements are on this page right now? None rn. Has something really heavy ever fallen on you? I don't believe so. Do you have any freckles on your feet? No. If you wear makeup, what colors do you usually wear? Black, when I do. I barely ever wear makeup, though. If you have more than one pet, do they ever get jealous of each other? BENTLEY DOES, particularly with guests (once he trusts them, anyway). If Teddy is getting attention, odds are he's gonna come on over and stick his nose in it. Do you have any brightly colored pants? No. Is there a room in your house that you don’t like going in? The laundry room. It's either hot or cold as fuck, depending on the season. Can you solve a Rubik’s Cube? No. I'm not good at planning future steps. Do you remember the last question you were asked? What did you answer? Well, besides the last survey question, I really don't. Besides salt and butter, do you put anything on your popcorn? No.

[cartoonessays]

Huey Freeman: What Could Have Been

I discovered The Boondocks in the newspapers around the early to mid ’00s.  It absolutely blew my mind that something like it could exist on the comics page.  As a little black kid who discovered and kept up with newspaper comic strips since the mid ’90s, I think the only black people I ever saw on the funny pages was Delta James in Luann and the once-in-a-blue-moon appearance of Franklin in Peanuts (my local newspapers didn’t run Jump Start).  So when I came across The Boondocks, it was the first time I had ever read a comic strip that not only featured a black character, but starred multiple black characters.  On top of that, but it blew my mind even further that this comic strip with black characters openly talked about being black and navigating white America in a way that was upfront and in-your-face.

In particular, I grew to love Huey Freeman.  I loved that the protagonist of this comic strip was a militant, pro-black voice of reason within this silly and chaotic world he existed in.  I loved that Huey also served as a scathing critic to George W. Bush’s war games and gross jingoism.

So imagine my delight when I first saw this!

Fast forward another 10+ years with The Boondocks having been over for years.  As much as I loved the TV series, I never thought it lived up to the comic strip.  The biggest reason I feel this way is because of how the show handled Huey.  I didn’t like how the show removed Huey as the main focus after the first season and how he had gotten reduced to mostly a peripheral role by the third and fourth seasons.  I suppose it fits the cynical outlook of the show to push their voice of reason into the background of a whole lot of nonsense.  But I still think that’s a lazy direction to go in if that really was the intent.

I understand that Huey’s primary role in the comic strip was to riff on current events and how that’s not a role he can serve in an animated series (especially with how many years it took to produce one season of the show).  I’ve wondered myself over and over on how the show could have fit Huey in.  But I’ve finally come up with an idea of where the show could have gone with him.

I suppose one reason why Huey’s role in the show was reduced is that he had no other character he can intellectually bounce off of.  He had Michael Caesar in the comic strip but he was never introduced to the TV series.  But I think Jazmine DuBois could have served as a great substitute for Caesar.

Jazmine may not have been as knowledgeable as Huey or Caesar about socio-politics, but she is a temperamentally passive enough character to just sit around and listen to all of Huey’s socio-political outrage (whereas other characters like Riley or Granddad would immediately balk at him).  I also imagine that Huey wouldn’t mind having Jazmine around to intellectually brow-beat since nobody else in his life is even willing to give him the time of day.

The relationship between Huey and Jazmine could have been used to explore opposing philosophical views.  To make a reference to The Matrix, Huey and Jazmine have a “red pill vs. blue pill” dynamic between the two of them.  Jazmine’s the blue pill: she blissfully lives her life uncritical of how the world is shaped around her.  Huey’s the red pill: he’s all too aware of the all the systemic injustice in the world and has dedicated his life to fighting against it.  The two of them constantly paired together could have produced a hilarious and insightful dynamic.

On one end, Huey could have been that one character in Jazmine’s life more than willing to pop that bubble she interacts with the world in.  The comic strip above and several others show Huey challenging Jazmine on her ambivalent view towards her blackness and her Euro-centric standards of beauty.  Huey also could have served as a dissident alternative to the more dominant views about politics and society she uncritically accepts from her parents, teachers, or whatever distinguished figure she catches on TV.  On the other end, Jazmine could have also challenged Huey’s view of the world too.  Although Huey is extremely knowledgeable and dedicated to activism, he lets it consume his life to a degree that is unhealthy.  Several years ago I read a profile done of the late Gil Scott-Heron where at some point he sat down in his living room and put on a tape of Rocky & Bullwinkle.  He explained that since he dedicated his music and his life to activism and political consciousness, that a little decompression from all of that once in a while is healthy for his psyche.  What does Huey do for fun?  Does he meditate?  Relax and listen to Public Enemy or Elton John or something?  Does he read any escapist comics or literature?  As a matter of fact, the only time I can recollect Huey ever smiling is one small scene where he was happy to see Riley killing it at his basketball game (pretty surprising considering how emotionally detached the two brothers are to each other).  On top of that, Huey’s perpetual mean mug does not endear him to others.  Without Caesar around, the only friend Huey had on the show was Cairo back in Chicago, and even that ended with the both of them falling out.  These are all things that Jazmine could have challenged Huey on.  Why would anybody want to live their life angry and miserable about the world all the time, especially at such a young age?  Does Huey think anything less than his 24/7 curmudgeonly attitude is complicity towards the structures of oppression he rails against?  Does Huey even have a realistic grasp of what he has the capability of accomplishing in this regard as a 10 year-old kid who can’t drive or even be left home alone without falling apart?  Something like this had unlimited potential to mine great jokes, provide insightful commentary, and beautiful character development.

The most frustrating thing about this is that the first season seemed to be going in this direction already.  They bounced off of each other well in episodes like “A Huey Freeman Christmas”, “The Real”, “Wingmen”, “The Block Was Hot”, and “The Passion of the Ruckus”.  But unfortunately, Huey’s role in the show got reduced after that first season and Jazmine’s role was severely reduced in the show after the first season and the comic strip after the ’90s (series creator Aaron McGruder later said that Jazmine was so shaken up by 9/11 that she spent all those years afterward hiding under her bed).  Building on this would have been a better focus in those later seasons instead of wasting it on pointless episodes like “Smoking With Cigarettes”, “The Fried Chicken Flu”, or “The New Black”.

Oh well.  It’s fun to dream.

Further viewing:

The YouTube channel TheStoryteller has done quite a few excellent analytical videos about The Boondocks.

[diceforanaltmode]

Team Fire: Session 3, Egg?!; Part 1: Reunions? Breakfast?

Team Fire has continued their adventuring and at last we can bring you more of their shenanigans! Thanks to Hawke for providing recordings for this session and for the rest of the party for taking so much of their time to help with the transcription of all ~3.5hours of it - now you have an even more detailed account of all the hijinks! The full summary came to 30pages/10k+words, so we’ve split it into four parts to make it a bit easier to read on tumblr - click through to Session 3 part 2 at the end to keep reading!

TEAM FIRE

Rodimus by Frosty (tiefling sorcerer) Drift by Space (earth genasi rogue) Ratchet by Hawke (firbolg cleric) Magnus | Minimus by Tuna (half-orc paladin | human/tethyrian wizard) Megatron by Briar (goliath paladin) Rewind by Robin (high elf wizard) (out for this week, but back soon) First Session | Second Session

We begin our adventure with the party asleep after their long day defeating Zeta. In the middle of the night, Rodimus wakes up in the room he shares with Drift, with the sudden sense that someone has gone, like that feeling when people say they know that a relative has died, but also a sense of relief, like it was a shitty relative. To help himself get back to sleep, Rodimus casts sleep on himself.

Ratchet passes out in bed asleep, just conks right out. He dreams of his memories of what happened to the hospital. What Megatron did. But still, Ratchet rises early and rolls out of bed. He’s getting ready for the day when there’s a knock at the door. 

“Yes?”

Roller’s voice comes through the door. “Ratch, it’s me, can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure.” Ratchet opens the door. 

“Ah, hey, you doing alright? You sleep okay?”

“Ah, yeah, yeah, Slept pretty well.”

“That’s good. Hey, uh, I got a message from Orion, asked if we could meet to catch up since we didn’t really get to yesterday.”

“Oh, did we now.” Ratchet says sarcastically. “Yeah, the little screaming match yesterday,” Ratchet coughs. “Anyways - yeah, did he want to meet with both of us, or?”

“Yeah. To, y’know, avoid any shouting matches again, there’s a cafe a couple streets down, if you wanted to walk over, they open pretty early, and the coffee’s better than what Swerve serves - but don’t tell him I said that.”

“I’ll always take a good coffee.”

“Alright,”

“I’ll be ready in ten,”

“Okay, I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Ratchet and Roller walk over in companionable silence. Ratchet’s still reflecting on the last day, after having spent the evening mostly drunk, and Roller doesn’t force any small talk. 

As they walk into the shop, they see baskets of bread and bagels and rolls, rows of pastries in glass cases, and in a large, round case, a whole cake, decorated with frosting shaped like yellow flowers. There are a few others in the cafe eating breakfast or picking up a loaf of bread for the day, Rung and Nightbeat are finishing up their breakfast. 

Orion is in a back corner, halfway through a mug of coffee and an apple turnover, and, talking to an Aarakocra woman, dressed in similar armor to Orion, who looks upset and angry. As Ratchet and Roller get closer, she stands up to leave, and they overhear Orion say, “Alright, I’ll ask him.” Orion looks up and acknowledges Roller and Ratchet. 

Ratchet grabs a coffee and then joins Orion. There’s a bit of awkwardness because the last time they saw each other, Orion was screaming at the scourge of Kaon and they had just killed Zeta. Roller follows, getting a coffee and a bearclaw. Ratchet and Orion both sit with their backs to the wall, while Roller has his back to the room.

“Thank you for coming,” Orion says, “It’s good to see you again in better circumstances.”

Ratchet stares into his mug of coffee for a little bit, before taking a deep slurp. “So, Orion, how’s the mind control been?”

“Well, better now that you all got rid of Zeta. Things aren’t quite yet coming back, but I’ve been talking with the AVL folks and they’ve been filling me in on what’s happened, they’ve been filling in all the guards. That’s also - the woman who just left, she’s also in the guard, she had the mind control, and, well, we both had the same thing, but she had it worse because - well, we can’t remember, but her kid is gone, and from what we can piece together, she thinks Zeta ordered her to bring her kid to him and leave the kid.”

Ratchet makes a horrified face at the notion.

“I take it from your reaction that you didn’t see any sign of the kid when you made your way through the castle.”

“To be honest I was a bit preoccupied on our way out making sure you got out, so no. We might be able to go back, search the premises if it helps, if - I’m not sure.”

“Yeah, I - assumed if you’d seen someone you would have made sure they got out, but I promised Ekalu I’d ask, since you were in the castle.”

“Yeah, I - I could ask the others when I get back to the tavern…” Ratchet says, trailing off to mutter, “her fucking kid...”

“I appreciate that.” Orion says, to Ratchet’s offer.

“Her fucking kid.” Ratchet mutters again, shaking his head.

Orion looks very downcast. “Fortunately from what we can tell it seems her kid was only gone a few days at the most, maybe a week. So at least not the entire time Zeta has been here.”

“So - you want to stage a search and rescue?”

“I wouldn’t know where to start. There’s the map the AVL showed you, I wouldn’t know where else a kid would be,” he considers, “unless there’s some part of the castle that Zeta built recently, something the AVL wouldn’t know about.”

“Yeah, I have an idea.” Ratchet says, “and you can rule out the high-security dungeons, we combed through those.”

“I heard. I -” Orion pauses, frowning, “ - what happened in there? I - You don’t - you don’t have to give me all the details.”

“Ah, not much, freed a lot of men, stumbled across a repentant warlord. Ya know, everyday things.”

“So you really buy it?”

“Coming back to this city was a mistake. I - I’m,” Ratchet considers. “He didn’t try to murder us. I don’t buy it. I don’t buy it. But - well, for now, he hasn’t tried any shady things, so - that’ll have to be enough for the moment. Drift - one of my companions on that job, Drift, seemed - rather opposed to taking Megatron down or securing him, or, or even just letting him say in the cell - you know, he was in a variable voltage harness, we didn’t have to let him go.” Ratchet sighs. “This whole thing’s been weird from start to finish.”

Orion sighs. “Well, for what it’s worth, seeing as you’re part of the reason I’m not under Zeta’s mind control anymore, I wouldn’t say coming here was a mistake,” he says. “How’ve you been? It’s been, what, fifteen, twenty years?”

“About. On the road, odd jobs. Trying my best. Trying, sometimes failing. Hmm,” he pauses, considers, “patching up people, the old wandering cleric life. I’ve - I’ve come here for First Aid originally, didn’t think I’d, you know, do the whole fighting a Vampyric overlord thing. I’ve been - y’know, I’ve been undercover.”

Orion nods. “Oh, First Aid’s here, that’s good,” he says, then adds. “They were debriefing all of the guards, they said they’re going to start up city council elections again, get things running back the way they were supposed to be.”

“Oh, well that’s good.” Ratchet considers his coffee. He’s not much of a morning conversationalist, not that he’s much of a conversationalist at any other time. Then, “I’m really glad you’re okay. I’m really fucking glad you’re okay.”

Orion smiles. “I’m glad you’re okay too.” He sighs. “After everything happened in Iacon - just - it’s been hard not to worry, these past few years. And, knowing what you were up against in there - I’m real glad you made it out of there okay.”

“Yeah, I got out, and I -” Ratchet huffs, “I might be so foolish to say I might have some opportunity here, which is - better than nothing. Better than nothing at all.”

“Well, that’ll be good to hear. I don’t know if I’m going to stay in the city.”

“Wait,” Roller interjects, “why - why wouldn’t you stay here?”

Ratchet leans in, skeptical. “Any plans, Pax?”

“Y’know, I - in Iacon, I tried to see what I could do working within the system, and in Kaon I tried to see what I could do outside the system. Then I tried looking for a reformer in Zeta and that obviously didn’t work out -”

Ratchet scoffs.

“- yes, I know, if you had been around you would probably have had more sense and talked me out of it, but - I don’t know what happens next. And I don’t know if there’s a place for me in rebuilding this city. I don’t know how many people recognize me only as someone who worked for Zeta.”

“That’s… if it’s any consolation, if the mind control thing gets out, we might be able to stir up some ruckus, get some new souls on the crew,” he says. “The mind control - it wasn’t you. It wasn’t your fault. I get not wanting to risk things. I get - having been forced to spend time as Zeta Prime’s mook, I get that.”

“Yeah.”

“So - what’s your plan? What’re you doing? Where’re you going?”

“I don’t know yet. I think I’ll have to see.”

“All right, well, hit me up when you’re going out into the world. I’ll prepare a big well-wishing speech, and maybe some flowers; hell, I could arrange a cake.”

Orion laughs. “If that’s true, you’ve changed more in the last twenty years than I could’ve imagined.”

Ratchet grins. “Hey, you never know how the times change, you never know where things go.” Ratchet looks at Orion’s plate. “Suppose you want to get proper breakfast food; you don’t look like you’ve eaten much.”

Orion takes a couple more bites of his apple turnover, “Eh, I’ll be fine, I’ll - well, I suppose I’ll get something else.”

“Alright!” 

Ratchet finishes the rest of his breakfast in the cafe as well - exactly three and a half peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, fancy ones. The cafe staff are a little confused by the order, but they make it in good time, the bread is delicious, the peanut butter is good, and the jam is made in house, and it’s just prime.

As Ratchet sits back down to eat, Roller asks. “So - what about you, Ratch? What are you planning to do? I know you talked to First Aid about maybe setting something up here.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking of - looking around, looking for people who can help, Y’know, we’ll need a place, people to help, to spread the word. It’ll be good to have a place again, where people - where anyone can go to get themselves patched up. For now, I’m staying, helping Aid, so I suppose I’ll keep to the headquarters.”

“Yeah, that’ll be where most of the political decisions are getting made. I, uh, I don’t think Prowl’s slept all night. I saw him on the way out.”

“Oh boy.”

“So if you want to know where things are being decided about how to rebuild, how to get things back running again - I know back before Zeta, there was - I don’t know if it was quite what you were talking about, but there were some clinics, a couple of them, in this town. Might be getting those back up to what they used to be.”

“So I’ve got a point to start. That’s honestly more than I would have hoped for.”

“Glad to have you here, Ratch.”

Ratchet lets out a long sigh. “Same.”

Roller chuckles.

---

After waking up, Magnus goes downstairs to check in with Dominus, and Rewind steps out so they can talk. Magnus walks in and immediately Dominus tries to leap out of bed to hug her but falls instead. She catches him before he can hurt himself.

“Thank you, sister, I -” Dominus sighs, “I keep thinking that I should be feeling better but it’s - it’s still taking its toll.”

“You have - you need as much time as you can possibly get! Don’t worry about it.”

“Ah thank you, I’m terribly sorry.” Dominus lies back down, propping himself upright just enough to give Magnus a hug.

“I heard from Rewind that you and your friends were able to kill Zeta and free the city”

“Ah - I - yes.”

“That’s unbelievable, sister. And I -” Dominus looks at his sister, very sincere, “thank you for keeping yourself and my husband safe.”

“Of course! Of course.”

“How are you doing now? Are you alright?”

“I - I do not know. I’m here now, I saved you. It’s been a long road to here. It’s been three years and - and I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

Dominus reaches out and pats Magnus’ forearm before sighing. “I think everything will be alright. I think it will take some time but everything will be - will be alright now. Found a place that I think can be a safe home in a way that -” Dominus pauses. ”In a way that Iacon couldn't.”

“That’s good. That’s very good.“

“Maybe not,” Dominus says quietly before continuing. “Of course that’s - that’s because of you, because you freed the city, so thank you and thank you for coming to find me.”

Magnus is trying to hold back tears.

“I - thank you Dominus. I -” she trails off. Dominus hugs Magnus again, not wanting to let go. 

After all the heavy talk Magnus tries to make small talk with Dominus.“So - uh, the hammer?!”

“It’s - it’s quite alright, I know you sister; you don’t need to try and make small talk. It’s quite alright.”

Magnus sighs. “True. Thank you. No - but seriously- why did you make the hammer?”

“Oh, I - Rewind said he gave it to you. Do you like it? Do you like it?!” Dominus asks excitedly.

“It’s absolutely fantastic!”

“I’m so glad! I thought you’d appreciate it. I certainly hope it was useful to you. I’m glad I was able to finish it before you came, although I would’ve liked to give it to you under better circumstances.”

“Heh - yeah it’s - hm,” Magnus considers. “I don’t know how else to describe it; it’s just- useful. Very nice. And you put so much detail on it, so it’s nice to see your work again.”

“From you sister, that’s the highest compliment.”

“Thank you.” 

Seeing that Dominus can’t take much more conversation and needs to continue resting, Magnus says, “you need to rest more and knowing me I will pass out if I do not eat something in the next five minutes so - please do rest.”

“I will. Rewind brought me something to eat earlier but please make sure you get yourself something, many things.”

Magnus laughs a bit at the wording. “I intend!”

Dominus gives Magnus one last hug before leaning back on the pillows and closing his eyes. Magnus places a hand on Dominus’ forearm, kisses his head, and says, “Please sleep well brother, I love you.”

“I love you too, sister.” --- Continue to part 2!

[writer-at-heart96]

From Disaster too...

"So another no?" Steffy asked her as Addy as she liked to be called asked her as she let out a snort. "Another no," Addy told her best friend as they were having lunch in the cafeteria of the hospital they both worked.

"And what did this one miss?" Steffy asked her with a hint of amusement as Addy pushed her food around on her plate. "A brain," she told her with a snort and shake of her head. "All he could talk about was his favourite football club, I don't even care about that. Literally, Steffy, I doubt that there is any guy out there that'll ever meet all my requirements. I know that, but I want to have someone who does more than just talking about football or how drunken he's gotten on his last two cafe brawls. Am I really being that unrealistic in what I want for a guy?" she asked her best friend with a shake of her head and shrug of her shoulders.

"Maybe, I don't know Addy, maybe it just isn't your time yet," she told her as she nodded her head at her best friend. They'd been friends ever since they'd been put in the same class at the age of 13, that as 12 years ago and the two of them had pretty much been inseparable since then. But unlike her she wasn't a nurse, she was a medical secretary and worked for one of the doctors in the hospital. "Hey, Liam." Addy greeted her friend as he walked up to their table. He was a friend of their, been of her since they'd started nursing school five years ago. Two of her other friends Amber and Helen worked in the hospital as well, but only she worked in the emergency room. When she felt her pager buzz, she looked down at it and looked back up at her friend. "I'll talk to you about tonight, we're flying out," she said to them with a small smile as Steffy reassured her that she'd take care of her plate as she rushed to the helicopter bay.

She loved being an emergency nurse, there was always something different to it. And ever since she started working at the hospital about a year ago, she'd been a part of the MUG-helicopter team. It was the emergency services of the air and she loved being a part of that team. To hear that call that they were needed.

"Where were you off to?" Jacob, the emergency doctor on call asked her as she hopped into the helicopter and put her helmet on. "I was having lunch. That's something people need you now," she told him as he shook his head in amusement. Jacob had been one to ask her out several times since she started working here. But she had one rule, never date a co-worker. And she stuck by it, she was a pessimist at heart on one thing and that was love. It never lasted and when that love had between co-workers well that would be messy and she loved her job, this rush to mush to ruin it by falling for her co-worker.

"What do we have?" Addy asked as she looked between their pilot and Jacob. "Car pile up on E17, pregnant woman severely injured." The pilot informed them as she nodded her head and started to look out the window as they flew to the place where at this moment a person was waiting on them. A person in dire need of help and feeling of hopelessness. She loved doing her work because of that because she was there when the people were at the moment in their life that could change everything. One moment in time where their entire lives could be influenced by. Some people were never the same once they were called and the helicopter flew out. Others were just to far gone and died on the way to the hospital.

It's where she as a person felt most needed and wanted and of use. Sure they're needed to be nurses everywhere. On the revalidation ward, the geriatric ward, the surgery ward. But that's not the nurse she was. Revalidation, well she'd been at that spot twice during her internships and that was the most boring ward there could possibly be. No that was actually elderly homes, but Revalidation was right up there with it. The rest was just too boring and routine for her.

That rush that she was about to get from the moment they touched down, that was something she loved and lived for. "There," she called out seeing the pile up on the motorway as their pilot tried to find a landing spot. The police had seemingly cleared a part of the motorway and they were pretty close to the car. The moment they stepped out of the helicopter, the rooters still going above them, not that they cared, the police met them and escorted them to the car. "32 year old female stuck in the car, the fireman have just started to cut their way through, but her left leg is caught between the dash and her seat. She's slipping in and out of consciousness and panics when she is awake." they were informed as Addy wondered how that woman was still alive in that car it was basically all crushed together.

"Want me to get inside, keep her calm till we can get her out?" she asked Jacob, the upside to being a woman and working with tall big man was that she was mostly asked to crawl in tiny spaces. Now they didn't need to ask her anymore, she did the asking, knowing the question would come up anyway.

"Yes, start a line as well," Jacob informed her as she started to crawl through the car, not caring about the broken glass. Jacob was the one to hand her things. The funny thing about being a part of this team, roles were mostly reversed. Doctor often played nurse as she crawled in tiny spaces like wrecks of car.

"My baby, my baby," she called, looking at Addy. "I know, we're going to get you out of here alright." she tried to reassure her as best as she could whilst putting in a line and pushing the medication in that Jacob handed her. She attached the monitor, before covering them both with a blanket to shield them from the fireman cutting the car open. She tried to reassure her through the entire thing and trying to stop the bleeding.

"Alright get the backboard." she heard someone call out once the noise of the cutters was gone and the blanket had been removed from on top of them. She was quickly stabilised by Jacob and her and then they were back on the helicopter, on their way to the hospital.

****

"You can't give up Addy," Steffy told her as they sat on the couch together. The three of them shared an apartment, Addy, Steffy and her boyfriend Site. He was on call at the fire station, so for tonight, it was just the two of them and no one else. "Why are you desperate to get me to date?" she asked her best friend as they shared a bottle of wine. Tomorrow was her day off and she looked forward to having a day all to herself really. It was sometimes hard the job she did, the scars it left, the telling of we did everything we could to save him or her. Today was just another scar, the baby had died in the woman's stomach. How they'd survive that she wasn't sure off? But it stayed with her still though.

"Because you deserve to be happy," Steffy told her as Addy shook her head. "It'll come in time Steffy, I just want to enjoy whatever time I have by myself," she told her as her phone buzzed beside them.

"What the?" she asked, reaching for the remote. "what are you doing?" Steffy asked as she stopped the movie and looked for any news. And there it was. "Earthquake and Tsunami in South East Asia." the tittle read as she looked down at her phone again.

"Being called in?" Steffy asked her as Addy nodded her head. "Leaving in 12 hours." she explained as she got up with a sigh. "for how long?" Steffy asked as she started to head for her bedroom. To go and pack a bag. "Three weeks to start with," she explained to her best friend. Ever since graduating school she'd applied to become a B-Fast Emergency responder. To go where the aid was even direr than it was here. And that's where she was headed now. A team of doctors, firemen, nurses, soldiers with the same goal. Saving as many lives as possible wherever they were headed at the moment. The only thing the message had read was 'be at Brussels airport in 12 hours, leaving for South-East Asia.'

It wasn't exactly a whole lot to go on, but it was enough for her as she prepared a bag for going there.

****

Two weeks later

To say that the last two weeks had been hell would be an understatement. She thought that she'd seen things back at home, but she hadn't. In comparison to what she'd seen here well, it had basically been a walk in the park. The first week it hadn't mattered whether you were a nurse or doctor. She had been put on the on-scene team. Two doctors and two nurses, whilst the rest of the team stayed at the field hospital.

Anyone was allowed to treat people in any way they saw fit. You had to use everything that you'd ever been taught. She'd categorized people in those four damn colours. The colours she was used to working with, Red meant urgent care, orange was in need of care but it could wait till the red ones were taking care off. Green was safe enough for them to be able to wait and even help out when needed. And then the colour she hated, black. You tagged people with it when they were dead or were soon to be dead. She tagged children with it even, knowing that there was no way they could be helped. By the time they would have reached the field hospital, the combined field hospital between the Belgians and Americans.

It would have been too late and it would have been a waste of time and resources. It wasn't something to be done out here, she knew the rules, it didn't make it any better though and she didn't like it. To make calls like that on children. They were playing gods, deciding who lived and who died. To have seen the dead piling up everywhere. It wasn't like she hadn't seen a dead body before. But never this many at once and the stench of death and infection hung in the air. It was a permanent scent around here and she wasn't sure if she'd ever smell anything else.

By now the worst cases had been taken care off, only small aftershocks had been felt and things were looking up. She'd decided to extend her stay two more weeks, most of the crew were leaving within a week. But she wanted to help out here, more than what she'd already been doing. Sure she was exhausted. She was used to eight to ten-hour shifts at best. here the day was made up of 18 hours to 20 hours days.

Yesterday a team from an organisation Reach out Worldwide had arrived to help out with the build-up. She figured that they weren't nearly there yet to start rebuilding, but they'd lifted the spirits of everyone. They helped out where they would normally work and it lifted some of the workloads. And they'd brought along new provisions as well so it was nice as well.

Brushing her hair back she looked down at the patient in front of her, redressing the wound. Looking across the tent filled with people in beds, being helped or talked to by a few of the Reach out Worldwide. "That should do it," she explained to the man as she rose up from her spot and started to head outside. She was halfway there when she felt the ground starting to shake underneath her feet.

"Earthquake." She called out as she saw a small child running inside near the stack of crates with provisions. She thought it would have been another small aftershock. But the ground started to shake more and more so much that the crates even shook and she ran up to the child. She caught her just in time when a crate toppled over beside them, the child on her chest as her back collided with the ground. "It's alright, shhh, it's alright." she tried to reassure her as she cried into her chest. She couldn't imagine to have gone through this once, this was the worst shake since she'd been here. When the ground finally stopped shaking around them, five minutes had gone by. All the crates had fallen over, people had literally been shook out of their beds.

"It's alright little girl." she calmed the young girl in her arms down. she knew that there would be newly injured people to be taking care off soon. "You okay?" the hot guy as she nicknamed him in her head since her arrived asked her. "Yea, this one is only a bit overwhelmed," she told him as he crouched down beside them. "Understandable," he explained to them both as he rested his hand on the child's back. "You're bleeding." he pointed out as he motioned to her head, lifting her head up, she felt the wetness. "It must have been from the crate," she explained to him as he helped her up. "I'm fine, they'll be people in more dire need of help than I am. Get ready to get your hand's dirty pretty boy," she told him with a pointed look and smirk on her face.

He was a handsome guy, tall, dark hair but not yet brown anyway. Blue eyes and muscled. She'd be crazy to not find him handsome and hot, but handsome and hot didn't do much here. The muscles, well they could be of use to do the heavy lifting, but all the rest well.

"Oh I'm ready," he smirked back at her as she let out a snort. "Guess we'll have to see that," she told him as someone came to get the child from her arms. "Addy get ready to head out, a few buildings collapsed, the damage that's been done is heavy. They say it was a 7.3." Mark told her as he stuck his head through the tent and she nodded her head. "And get a band-aid on that, Scott you might tagging along, they'll be some lifting needed," Mark asked Scott who stood beside her as he nodded his head. "Be ready in ten," Mark told them as they started to gather their stuff, the first thing she did was put a band-aid on her forehead where there was a cut.

But when she arrived at the truck and Jan saw the band-aid, he ordered her to take it off so he could take care of it on the ride. It was quickly taken care of with some glue and that would have to do for now. Once they got out of the building they'd been sent to, the water was standing at their knees, it seemed a second tsunami had hit the country.

"Alright you know the drill, load the red tags on the trucks along with the orange ones. Take care of the injuries you can here and send them off." the order came as they all started to thread through the water. She didn't try to think of what might be in it at all as she made her way to one side of the pile. A group of people were there lifting up junk as she asked them what was going on. "My daughter, she's under there," she told her in broken English as Addy looked around for someone to help her in picking up the rubble. "Hey, Pretty boy." She called out from where he stood not too far away, talking and reassuring a family. "I need your help," she told him as he walked over to her, their walking slowed down by the water around them.

"Their daughter is trapped here," she explained to him as they immediately got to work with the father. In the meantime, she took care of the scrapes on the boy's arm and then she joined in cleaning the rubble. "I have an arm." Pretty boy said as she moved to his place. "She's still alive," she said when she felt for a pulse. "Get this rubble away from her," she called out as she opened her back on top of a pile of rubble beside her, getting ready to treat anything that might appear from the moment the rock was lifted.

"Alright, slowly lift up the rock alright," she instructed as she finished inserting the IV catheter into her arm. "There we go," she said as she immediately unwrapped her stethoscope and listened to her chest and heard that she wasn't breathing on the right side.

"Jan, Pneumothorax on the right side," she called out to him, everyone was busy. It wasn't like she hadn't done it before here at least. But still, when there was a doctor nearby, she preferred to have them do it. She knew that rules didn't really matter here if you were able to do it and trained in some way or form, you did it. "You do it, you know how," he called out to her as she sighed heavily. "What can I do?" Pretty boy asked her, looking at her as if he'd do anything she asked of him. Okay turn her onto her left side, keep her steady." she told him as he nodded his head and moved to help her out. Preparing what she needed she inserted the needle in between her ribs and heard the rush of air coming out of it. "Okay, that should do it for now," she said to Pretty boy as she looked up at him. "Let's get her to the trucks then," he told her as he lifted her up carefully with some help of Addy.

Somehow when they'd dropped the child off and Pretty boy decided to stick with her as they searched for survivors. The first patient they came across was a man with a dislocated knee. "Alright hold on his upper thigh like this, don't move an inch even when I set the knee," she explained to pretty boy as he nodded his head as she took a hold of his chin. "And you might want to try and not hear the next part," she explained to him as he nodded his head at her as she gave a pull and tug on the leg as they heard the knee pop into place, the scream however from the man reached above it as she bandaged it up. "Get up that hill, they're making a base camp there," she told her patient as she wiped her brow and moved a strand of hair away from her forehead.

"You still okay?" she asked pretty boy as he nodded his head, both were drenched in sweat and grime. The water had dropped some but not enough to clear the ground, they were still in the water up to their mid calves. So far she was impressed by pretty boy, he'd held his stomach in some pretty gore situations as they moved from patient to patient. The stench was revolting, but she had to bite through it. "Here," she told him after pulling off her gloves.

"It won't mask the smell completely but it helps," she explained as she dabbed a bit of Vicks under her nose, she'd learned to use the tricks she'd been told but hadn't believed would help. "Thanks," he whispered as he pulled on a pair of new gloves from Addy's bag.

"Alright, up to the next," she told him as they walked over to a whimpering man. Looking down at him, she already knew what they'd have to do. Pulling off the tags, but only the black one she put it on his chest. "But he's still alive." pretty boy told her as she gave him a sad smile. "I know, but look, the glass penetrated his bowels, this would be tricky at the hospital, let alone here. it's more human to let him die now than to let him suffer. I'll give him a painkiller." she explained to him as she squeezed his arm in understanding. "Okay," he whispered with a bit of a broken voice.

"It's okay Gan," she told him, kneeling beside him as she held onto his hand. "I'm going to give you a pain killer alright," she explained to him a soothing and calming voice as Scott could only look on, he'd seen her work with an energy that he wasn't even sure where she got it. Now he understood why they called her the determined one as they worked together. She was a beast for sure, she didn't pull any punches, after only asking a doctor once and being told she could do anything. she hadn't bothered with asking anymore, he'd seen her clamping bleedings, setting bones and much more as if she was a doctor.

And yet, every new person she treated with such kindness and comforting tone that it made her in even more awe than he already was. She was the only woman on the 12 crew team that had been brought here. But she just like any man, moving piles of rubble like all the men around her and doing what any men did.

"My wife, she's here somewhere." he gasped, blooding spitting out of his mouth. "We'll look for her alright," she told him, her upper body leaning a bit over him as she looked into his eyes. "It hurts so much." he cried, holding onto her hand as she cupped his face with her other. "I know, I'm going to make it go away alright," she told him in a comforting and soothing tone. "I'm scared," he admitted as she pushed the dormicum and morphine into his veins. It would take a couple of minutes, but it would be like falling asleep. "I'm afraid of dying, what's on the other side," he admitted as he gasped for air as she went to sit behind him, his head resting in her lap to put him in a comfortable position. It would take the strain away from his stomach.

"What do you imagine is there?" he asked her, looking up at the woman that was giving him some comfort in his last moment. "I'm not sure, I think it's whatever you want to be, a favourite place, a peaceful hill where you can look into the distance from. A quiet night where you can hear the cricket chirping, a small breeze in the air, a cold glass of wine," she told him as he let out a bloody chuckle. "I like that one, I love the night. I know nothing with any certainty," he said, gasping with each word and she knew the end was close. "But the sight of the stars makes me dream." she finished for him with a soft and tearful smile as he let out a chuckle. "Only on the day I die, I find a woman who knows Van Gogh's words." he chuckled as she let out a tearful one. "Well, in that case, let's think of that starry night as what comes after," she told him with a soft tone as he nodded his head and she saw the look in his eyes change and then he was gone as she closed his eyes.

Bending her head she tried to get some strength as she felt a hand on her back. Lifting her head through tearful eyes she saw pretty boy. "You okay?" he asked her as he head tears swimming in his own eyes, to see a man dying like that, with a piece of glass in his gut and the smell of death and god knows what else. But to see Addy paint a smile on his face as he died, to have given him such a death. "Yea, we should move on, there are other people needing our help," she told him with a broken voice as she wiped her tear away as she rose up from the ground.

For the entire time, well beyond nightfall, they took care of the people as best as they could. Stitching them up, setting bones, stabilizing them or giving them a peaceful death. It was gruesome and terrible. Addy had a feeling that when she came home, she would have lost a part of her soul here. She was happy to go back to base camp. They'd done what they could, it was never enough, not nearly enough. But it was all they could have done.

Sat on the hill where their base camp was located, she'd just taken a shower, her hair was loose and running down her back. "Mind if I join you?" Pretty boy asked her as he motioned to the spot beside her. "Sure pretty boy," she smirked, trying to still see some humour in everything. They weren't sure what else they'd do otherwise.

"It's Scott you know," he told her with a chuckle as he sat down beside her and held out a bottle of beer out to her. "I think pretty boy suits you better." she teased him as he let out a chuckle whilst shaking his head. "Well at least you think I'm pretty, that's something," he told her as he nudged her shoulder and she couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "Maybe." she teased him as she took a sip from the bottle of beer.

"You were amazing today, you put some of the men to shame in that collapse," he explained to her as she shrugged her shoulders. "I did what I had to do," she told him with a heavy sigh as she rested her arms on her knees. "Still you were great," he told her as she gave him a small smile.

"You weren't too bad yourself, there's something more to you than just looking pretty." she teased him as he let out a chuckle. "was that an attempt at a compliment?" he asked her with a teasing tone as she let out a chuckle. "Sure," she told him as he gave her a small smile.

"How long have you been here?" he asked her as she turned her head to look ahead of them. "Two weeks, we arrived 24 hours after the initial tsunami and earthquake," she told him with a heavy sigh. "So you were in the thick of it all?" he asked her as she nodded her head with a heavy sigh. "Yea," she admitted, dropping her head to her knees, it was so hard to be here. She pretended to be strong and she was, but the strongest things could break if you put enough strain on them. She couldn't talk to her friends or family about it, service was tricky at best and they wouldn't understand anyway.

"I'm pretty sure I'll have enough of all of it once I get home," she told him with an empty chuckle and shake of her head. "Nursing?" he asked her as she nodded her head. "Nursing wasn't my first choice." she explained to him as she turned her head to look at him, her cheek resting on her knee. "don't get me wrong, I've loved every moment of what I've done so far as a nurse. But still, it was rather plan C than plan A." she told him with a small shake of her head.

"What's plan A?" he asked her as she gave him a small smile. "Oh I had several plan A's," she told him with a hint of amusement as he let out a chuckle. "Such as?" he asked her as she gave him a soft smile. "Well when I was a child I wanted to become a vet," she told him as he let out a chuckle. "I can see that, doesn't every little girl want to be?" he asked her as she tilted her head a little.

"I suppose so, but I grew up on a farm, surrounded by animals, during my teens I volunteered with our vet throughout the year. It was great but I realised it wasn't for me, not something I wanted to do till my dying day," she explained to him as he nodded his head.

"Another plan A was when I must have been ten or eleven." she started, why the hell was she even telling him all of this? Maybe it was a nice change of everything going on around her. Or maybe they'd bonded throughout the day as they saved lives together and she felt pretty comfortable around him.

"I wanted to be an astronaut," she told him as he threw his head back in laughter and she couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "Well that are two very different things," he explained to her as she nodded her head at him. "What made you want to become an astronaut?" he asked her as she tilted her head upwards to look at the sky. There weren't any lights around, except for the camp behind them. But the stars were so clearly visible and she loved it. At least there was a good thing about this mess.

"It was school actually, we had a space project throughout the year, we were all given a planet to report on I'll say. We had Mars," she told him, turning to look at him. "But once I learned about Mars, I thought it was so amazing, we saw a Mission to Mars and I became entranced by it all, the possibilities. So I ended up asking anyone for books on space, I started watching documentaries on it, anything my eleven-year-old mind could grasp at least," she told him with a chuckle. "I fell in love with it, the beauty of it, the possibilities. I wanted to be on that mission on Mars. That experience changed me a lot." she explained to him as he nodded his head with a soft smile on his face.

He could see the difference in her, he'd seen her devotion to the work today, but the passion in it lacked. Right now, her talking about space, that was passion in her voice. "How so?" he wondered, intrigued by thing young and yet different woman all at once. "It opened my mind I suppose, once I realised that there was so much out there, so much I didn't know, I wanted to learn everything. first, it was space, then it was about the earth and how everything around us was formed and how it works. Then it would anything to do with science basically and the finally history and art." she explained to him and he could see that she was passionate about it, could hear it in her voice and see it in her eyes.

"And what was another plan A?" he asked her with a chuckle. "Then I just got stuck at first, I wasn't sure what I wanted, I'm pretty sure I still haven't. When I was around 18 we had our senior year trip to Greece, I wasn't interested in history at all, it was the one grade that I was horrible at. But our guide." she paused with a look that said all he needed to know.

"She was so passionate, she was so passionate about it, every site we visited. I fell in love with history and realised that it didn't have be too boring, it could as interesting as we made it. So when I finished high school I decided to go and study Geography. It had everything I loved: Geology, art, history even a bit of space. But I dropped out after a year. my grades were fine, I just hit rock bottom. I started working for a year, I found writing as a way to cope with everything, so basically, I did that for a year whilst working. But I didn't see myself being stuck at a store for the rest of my life. So at first, I looked to become a Pilot, I thought it would be amazing to fly anywhere, to see the world. But it was so expensive that I didn't get to do that. So when I got the chance through a program in Belgium to go back to school, I took it. The human body fascinated me enough to know that nursing might be of some interest to me." she explained with a shrug of her shoulders as she finished her stories, realising what he was doing as he took her mind of everything that had happened in the last two weeks. Oh, he was subtle alright, no one had ever managed to outsmart her like that, but he had. It made him even more of a mystery to her.

"That are a lot of A plans." he chuckled as she nodded her head at him. "What about you, what do you do at the organisation?" she asked him, wanting to change the subject away from her a bit as he took two more beers out of a basket he had with him.

"I'm an ambassador for it, a friend of mine actually started it up. He died a few years ago and now I do this to honour his memory," he explained to her as she nodded her head at him. "Must have been hard," she told him as he nodded his head, he was surprised for once, they didn't ask him who his friend was or who he was since he was an ambassador.

"It was, he was like my big brother. Don't get me wrong, I come from a big family with seven siblings. But he was different you know, he got me into all these things, Jiu-jitsu and diving and surfing and cars. I don't think I would be the man I am today without him." He told her as she put a reassuring hand on his arm when she heard the strain in his voice. "He must have been an amazing man," she told him with a tilted head as he nodded his head.

"You would have liked him," he told her with a chuckle as she tilted her head to the side in question. "He was just like you in a lot of ways, had all these interests. You probably would have called him pretty boy as well," he told her as she let out a chuckle. "But he was so much more than that, he had so many interests, Marine biology was one of his biggest interests, he lived for the ocean and his cars," Scott told her with a far off look on his face as she nodded her head.

"what would you tell him if you could see him one last time?" she asked him as he turned his head to look at her. "That I miss him, that I'm grateful for all that he's done for me, that he's a big part of the person that I am today, that I'm grateful for all he's taught me," Scott told her as she nodded her head at him.

"I'm convinced that he knew that when he passed. Some days I still can't believe he's gone you know, it's been five years in November, but still..." he told her shaking his head. "Hey," she said, covering his hand with hers. "He's not really gone, he still lives on in you, in his family, in your memories. A bright soul gone still lives on. He's still with you when you surf, it's something he taught you, for that part, he is still with you." she tried to give him words of comfort as he turned to look at her.

"He would have loved you as well." he chuckled, shaking his head a little. "for me calling you pretty boy." she teased him as he let out a chuckle nodding his head. "He'd never let me live it down," he told her as it was her turn to let out a chuckle. "Just my kind of people," she told him as he let out a chuckle.

"And what was your initial plan?" she asked him, wanting to get to know this person better. She couldn't explain it, she'd say it was bonding over today. But she'd been bonding with all these people over trauma, but none made her feel like this. Maybe the others hadn't sought her out after a hard day, that was probably it.

"I got my initial plan," he told her as she nodded her head even more intrigued. "Ambassador?" she teased him as he shook his head. "Promise me you won't tell anyone?" he asked her as she nodded her head.

"I'm an actor, my dad was an actor as well. I grew up around the industry you know and it's what I wanted to be," he explained to her as she nodded her head at him with a smile on her face. "Anything I'd know?" she asked him, he was happy that she wasn't freaking out so far. "probably Fast and Furious 8, maybe for you longest ride," he told her as she let out a chuckle. "Really, I must have been asleep when I watched Fast 8.," she told him, trying to think back and then it clicked in her head. "Not the longest ride?" he asked her as she shook her head. "don't know it," she admitted as he tilted his head. "I'm not really for romantic movies, they're all so cliche, give me the fast movies any day," she told him with a chuckle as he let out a laugh and shook his head. "You're an extraordinary woman," he told her as she shrugged her shoulders. "I'm just me," she told him with a shrug of her shoulders.

"And you're writing anything I'd know? "he asked her as she shook her head. "If you like fanfiction maybe," she told him as his eyes widened a bit. "Really, how did you get involved with that?" he asked her as she tilted her head. "I loved reading it, how one story could all of a sudden be turned into another. And I figured how hard can it be?" she told him with a chuckle.

"I started with a Lord of the Rings fanfiction than I did a Harry Potter fanfiction, Chronicles of Narnia. I'm a Dutch-speaking woman so writing in English was a challenge at first, but the more you practice, the better you become. That's when I started writing original ones. But I haven't got the courage to finish them, I always stick with fanfiction." she told him as he nodded his head. "Would you let me read it?" he asked her as she tilted her head to the side. "If you promise me not to mock me," she told him as he nodded his head. "I promise as she pulled her phone out. "We'll have to Bluetooth, there is no service out here," she explained to him as she went to her Onedrive. "Original or Fanfic?" she asked him as he motioned to one called Prophecy of days to come.

"That sounds promising," he told her as she sends it over to him. "I'm curious now," he told her as she let out a chuckle. "It's the first time I let someone read my work that I actually know," she admitted to him with a snort. "Well this pretty boy is honoured," he told her as she let out a chuckle.

"Sorry for that, I figured since everyone was so, especially the Americans were so all around you that I didn't really see why you were here," she explained as she nodded her head. "I guess I know why now," she told him as he nodded his head at her. "I don't mind, it was nice to be treated as a person for once," he told her as she nodded her head. "Am I not anymore?" she wondered with a raised eyebrow as he shook his head. "No, you're still you," he told her as she nodded her head.

"We better get to bed if we're to get any sleep. I need to be up in a few hours again. I bet your bed is all soft and mushy." she told him as they got up together. "I'm sleeping in the same tent as you guys," he told her as she nodded her head. "I hope you don't snore to bad." she teased him as he let out a snort, nudging her side. "I do sleepwalk though," he admitted as she shook her head. "Guess they'll be looking after two people then," she told him as he raised his eyebrow in question.

"I do too, now less than when I was a child. I once woke up on our farm in one of the paddocks with no idea of how I'd gotten there," she told him as he let out a chuckle. "Alright that's pretty dangerous," he told her with a chuckle as she nodded her head as they arrived at their tent. Most in the tent were asleep and those on shift well there were in other places.

"Goodnight pretty boy," she told him as he seemed to be sleeping in a bed that was put against the head of her bed. "Goodnight Addy." she heard him say as they felt themselves being pulled in dreamland.