#which made sense for the secondary 'go the fuck to bed' blocking!

[thedarklyblue]

managed to accidentally brick my entire phone (temporarily) last night in an attempt to stop myself from reading past my bedtime which is a problem that would be much more easily solved by better self-control.... and yet

[cordytriestowrite]

Knocking On Your Door

Bucky Barnes x Reader

One Shot College AU

Summary: Bucky can't sleep and you can't find your door.

The strip of light under the door was too bright and the heavy footfalls just outside sent shadows across Bucky's eyelids so that every time he felt compelled to open them. He knew it was late but didn't dare touch his phone and have his retinas burned by the intense, artificial light. Ten feet to his right his best friend let out a loud, choking snore reminding Bucky he was the only one having a problem adjusting to dorm life. 

A shiver ran down Bucky's body as his left shoulder escaped from the warm cocoon of his comforter and he had to expose his right hand to the cold to tuck everything back in. A sleeping Steve missed Bucky's lukewarm glare in the dark. The man could sleep soundly on a bed of ice but Bucky? Well, Bucky hated the cold. The thermostat for the whole floor was just down the hall behind a plastic cage. He spared a moment to fantasize about ripping it off with his bare hand before hurling it out the window and watching it shatter on the sidewalk below. And while the fantasy was nice the reality was Bucky should probably just put on a sweater, but he hated wearing shirts to bed so he stubbornly suffered in silence. 

Two students passed through the hall in a heated conversation at full volume. Did anyone take morning classes on this floor? Bucky wondered bitterly as he burrowed his head underneath his pillow and let out a tiny, totally manly whimper of exhaustion. He knew college would be tough, was told as much by everyone he knew, but no one thought to mention how impossible it would be to get some fucking sleep.

The tips of his ears and nose warmed with his head planted under his pillow and while his neck ached slightly and his inhales became filled more with exhaled breath than fresh air he found his eyes suddenly heavy with sleep. 

The rattling of the door knob had Bucky bolting upright. The sound was insistent, offending Bucky's ears every few seconds while he blinked sleep from his eyes. The sudden cold air on his chest helped rouse him enough to pull the covers back and put his feet on the equally cold ground. He took a moment to grit his teeth against the chill. 

What sounded like an open palm smacked once against the wood spurring Bucky to leap the short distance across the room. His hand gripped the still wriggling knob and wretched the door open.

"Jesus, do you know what time it is?"

The greeting growled out of him, he couldn't help it. He knew he was wild-eyed, hair messy, and torso bare to display the stump where his arm should be and that alone would have made even his closest friends take an instinctual step away.

But you only blinked owlishly at him.

"You're not Carol?" You managed to slur out the cohesive thought as you stared at the man in front of you who was definitely not your roommate. 

"Uh," Bucky's forehead crinkled with his own confusion. 

"No?"

It was obvious you were drunk. If Bucky didn't have eyes he'd still be able to smell the reek of booze pouring off your skin. 

"Why are you in my room?" 

"I'm not. I'm in my room."

"Who are you?"

"Bucky, who are you?"

Your gaze hardened and your hands braced against your hips. You knew where you lived god dammit and this...this...Bucky would not put you out on your ass.

"Get out of my room you creep!"

Bucky's movements were quicker than yours, his arm coming up to block your two handed push. What neither of you anticipated was the lack of balance on your end that had you crumpling into each other like a car crash. It took your brain a minute to breach the surface of understanding and reorient your sense of space to its current status: horizontal with a bloom of pain in your knee and your face pressed to bare skin. Your tongue swiped along your bottom lip and the action was answered with a pulsing sting and the taste of copper.

"Ouchies." You moaned with a pathetic warble.

A groan of agreement rumbled beneath you. Bucky, with the wind still knocked out of him, glanced up at the bed half expecting a disheveled blond head to lean over the edge. If Steve woke up at all from the commotion he already deemed it not as important as sleeping.

You didn't seem interested in moving off of Bucky and occasionally he could feel your tongue leave a wet trail against his chest which was kind of weirding him out. The last thing he wanted was to be accused of taking advantage of a drunk girl by another loud late-night hall walker. With his arm on your opposite shoulder he tugged gently until you fell onto the rug beside him. 

"Where's Carol?" You asked again, feeling your eyes sting with big, fat, extra salty tears.

"I want french fries." You added as an afterthought. 

Bucky let out a surprised chuckle, muffling it behind his palm as he let it slide down his face and pull at his lower lip.

"Me too."

Your stomach contracted with a mix of hunger and nausea. Turning on your side you tried to settle into a comfortable position on the hard floor. Bucky turned on his side toward you, his eyes flitting over your face with concern.

"Don't fall asleep."

Your lower lip jutted out, the pull of skin ripping the split open further. Your tongue ran along the wound again. 

"I'm not!"

Your eyes closed of their own accord though your mind was still very much active. You wondered yet again where Carol was. But finding her was only  secondary to your new mission.

"I want french fries."

You heard a sigh and cracking one eye open your vision swam for a moment before taking in the man next to you. His hair was long, pooling onto the floor under his head. His eyes were rimmed with dark circles and weary with the need for sleep. His chest was bare, pale and toned and scarred where his limb suddenly ended.

"Did I do that?" You wondered out loud, your fingers inching toward the pink, tight skin. 

"No." he answered, his voice soft with vulnerability. 

Bucky felt as if he had hit the floor all over again. He felt dizzy and breathless and unable to do anything but watch what was happening. Fingers connected with flesh and the sharp intake of air hurt his lungs. It didn't feel like much, the nerves dull and your touch light, but Bucky's body was awake with awareness. 

"I've never…" 

Your thought floated away halfway through speaking it, but Bucky nodded as if he understood. Eventually your fingers stopped stroking and Bucky rolled over to his back. There was a second of stillness before he sat up and stared down at you.

"Tell you what: let's go find your friend Carol and get you some french fries."

You ignored the pain of your lip in favor of offering Bucky a wide smile.

"Fuck yes let's go!"

Bucky sent a quick glance to the lump in Steve's bed which remained unmoving despite your exclamation. Rising first he offered his hand to you, bending his knees and keeping his balance low and centered as you stumbled your way up to standing. 

-

"Wake up sleeping beauty."

You groaned, pulling your blanket above your head. Your head was pounding, blood pulsing painfully behind your eyes. Your mouth was dry, breath foul, and bladder full. In essence you were hungover. 

"Carol, I'm dying." You moaned, your voice breaking with overuse. 

"I know sweetie. Now sit up and take these."

Carol pulled the blanket back and waited patiently for you to sit up before dropping the pills into your awaiting palm. You dropped them into your mouth and tried not to gag as you washed them down. 

"So you had an interesting night, huh?"

You had settled back down, the effort it took to stay upright too much to handle right now. You draped your forearm over your eyes and let out a sigh of relief.

"I don't know, did I?"

Carol didn't answer but you could still feel her weight on the edge of your bed. You snuck a peak from under your arm.

"Carol Danvers what do you know?"

She shrugged, but the burgeoning smirk on her lips suggested she wasn't entirely ignorant. You sat up again, your body hunched over with nausea, but you persevered. 

"Tell me what you know, woman!"

Carol's lips quirked upward, her stare steady in silent resistance. You were about to flop back down and leave last night a mystery but Carol must've seen your interest waning. 

"Imagine my surprise when there is a knock on the door at four in the morning and it's you holding a basket of fries in one hand and waving goodbye to some tall, dark, and handsome with the other."

"Who was it?"

Carol shrugged, finally getting up and crossing back over to her side of the room and tugging on her brown leather jacket.

"I'm meeting Maria for breakfast. Want me to bring you something back or do you think you can brave the journey."

As much as you wanted to spend the day in bed with your roommate bringing you food you knew the best way to recover from your monster hangover was to walk your tired ass downstairs and across campus to the cafeteria, load up a plate with greasy food, and shovel it all into your face until you felt human again.

You pulled back your covers to find yourself still in the outfit you wore last night, a wrinkled shirt and skirt combo that did not look as cute as it did last night. Pulling on sweatpants and a hoodie you followed Carol at a much slower pace. 

Maria was leaning against the outside wall of the cafeteria until she spotted Carol. You watched her jog to meet her girlfriend sooner by a few seconds with a flutter in your own chest at just how fucking cute they were. 

"Not that I don't like seeing you two be adorable but I need hash browns."

Maria took one look at your current state and nodded seriously, pulling Carol along under her arm.

"Well shit who am I to deny you breakfast?"

The cafeteria was surprisingly busy for a Saturday morning, but the lines of food were already being switched out for lunch items and you realized it was later than you thought. 

You were plopping your third scoop of eggs onto your plate when you felt a presence next to you. Looking up beyond the edge of your hood a spark of recognition barely ignited in your memory, but something about him seemed familiar. His plate sat mostly empty on the runner and you assumed he was waiting for his turn with the eggs. 

"Sorry." You muttered, dropping the spoon and moving along the line.

"For which part?" 

Bucky had barely registered that the hunched and bundled body next to him was you until you spoke. He had dropped you off at the door a floor below his only six hours ago then took the stairs back to his room and promptly passed out. Steve tried to rouse him for a morning run with Sam but unlike Steve, Bucky hadn't caught a wink of sleep until the sun was rising. Steve's return and Sam's insistent prodding at Bucky's body beneath his blanket had spurred him awake and in a foul mood. He escaped the room with his foul mood intact wondering if Natasha would let him crash in her bed while she worked. She didn't answer when he knocked on her door and in a futile attempt to catch up on sleep he ventured to the cafeteria. She wasn't there but now that Bucky was his stomach begged for substance. With an energy drink shoved into his pocket he pushed his plate down the line waiting for something to catch his eye. 

Turns out that thing was you. 

Turns out Bucky was not quite out of his funk.

He followed you, pushing his plate past what remained of the eggs. 

"Do you want to apologize for showing up at my door in the middle of the night? Or for accusing me of breaking into my own dorm? Maybe for pushing me?"

Your eyes widened with each word until the dryness stung and forced you to blink back the moisture. There was a smudged image in your mind of the same man before you, hair loose and eyes tired, not too different from how he looked right now. 

"All of it?" You offered up with a half shrug. 

Bucky didn't know what he expected, wasn't sure he expected anything. Maybe he just wanted to be angry and for you to feel guilty. 

But he remembered your fingers grazing the scars on his chest and arm, how you leaned into him as he walked you to your door, your nonsensical stories barely uttered through drunken giggles, and how much many times you muttered 'cute' when gazing at him with a dopey smile on your face. 

Silence stretched between you, Bucky's gaze far away with the night he luckily could remember. You moved down the bar, suddenly not as hungry as you were a few minutes ago. 

You reached the student cashier, who barely looked up as you reached into your pocket to fish out your id card.

"I got it."

Bucky leaned over to place his card into the cashier's awaiting hand. Who swiped it without hesitation before passing it back in Bucky's general direction. 

"Thanks."

You picked up your plate, waiting for Bucky to do the same.

"I really am sorry for whatever I did last night."

Bucky placed his plate down at an empty table then set his energy drink down before pulling out his chair. You could see Carol and Maria sitting a few tables away, but the couple was wrapped up in a conversation and hadn't noticed you.

"I assume I have you to thank for getting me home last night?"

Bucky nodded, a smile forming on his tired face.

"And your precious basket of fries. I'm surprised you're still hungry, I bought you three baskets."

A flush of heat rippled down your body, self-consciously you licked your bottom lip and felt a tenderness you didn't have before you started drinking last night. 

"Holy shit, I ate that many fries?"

"Nah, you wanted to bring one back to Carol."

You glanced at the woman in question. Catching her eye and watching her very obviously mouth 'that's him!'

Yeah, no shit Carol. Thanks. 

"So after I wake you up in the middle of the night, insult you, push you, and drag you out of your dorm you not only buy me fries but you buy my friend fries and my breakfast this morning."

Bucky shrugged, shoving a forkful of food into his mouth and staring intently at his plate. 

"Are you single?"

Bucky choked a little before he managed to swallow the large amount of food he had unwittingly dumped into his gob to keep from making an ass of himself. Turns out he could do that anyway. Coughing to clear his airway he let out a strangled answer.

"I am."

"So would it be weird if after all of that I asked you out?"

Bucky couldn't keep from smiling this time and to be safe he set down his fork and pushed away his plate. He had a date. He had the weirdest night of his college experience and now he had a date. Bad mood banished he felt an influx of endorphins urging him to run or jump or dance or do something equally stupid in public. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'd like that. But I'd like to take a nap first." He confessed with a chuckle.

"Oh my god, me too." You said wistfully, already imagining crawling back into bed, maybe with…

"First date idea: want to nap together?"

Bucky's heart swelled in his chest to the point he thought it might send him floating away. 

"Fuck yes! Can we go now?"

You nodded, letting out a surprised squeal when Bucky gasped your hand and pulled you up and out of the mess hall. You caught up with him so he was less tugging you along and more so holding your hand. 

"Maybe while we walk you can help me fill in the gaps of last night. So your name is Bucky and why were you in my room?"

Bucky groaned, albeit with no frustration. You were so fucking cute if you let him he was going to kiss you before you both passed out cuddled up in the small, thin dorm beds, ignoring the sounds of passersby and daylight streaming though the window.

And fuck anyone who knocks on the door.

Permanent tag list

@dark-angel-be-thirsty-af @geekdorknerdfangirlblogger @eccentric-impulses @instantnoodlese @bambamwolf87 @dyanlzbb @sebstanhun @thoughtfullhuman @sbluehi @fanfictionrecommendations-com @spacezombiie @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen @titty-teetee @alt-er-love-er-alt @bornfortherainydays @venitia89 @always-irrelevant @darkphoenixrisingwrites @drakesfiance @katzenwahnsinn @mywinterwolf @kcd15 @somewereinthegalaxi @justalilsad5 @becs-bunker @reading--mermaid @reviewfanfics @marvelousmarauderstrash @iamverity @evolving2deppression @youpenguinadonis @darlingtholland @700teacups @lovemesomepietro

[yandere-daydreams]

A Yandere!Toshinori/OC piece for the very lovely @evaesis​, featuring her character, Kit, and a *nasty* case of Stockholm Syndrome, even if it presents itself rather sweetly. It’s just nice to write some consensual smut for once, honestly.

Word Count: 3.0k

TW: NSFW, A/B/O Dynamics, Knotting, Delusional Mindsets, Mentions of Kidnapping and Implied Stolkholm Syndrome. 

Kit liked to think it was her natural sense of curiosity.

She didn’t like Toshinori, that much should’ve been common sense. She couldn’t bring herself to hate him, not after spending so much time as his coworker, his confidant, his friend, but she refused to let herself enjoy his company, too. He’d kidnapped her, for fuck’s sake, taken her away from the life she loved, slapped quick-canceling cuffs around her wrists just strong enough to block the more problematic parts of her quirk, and locked her inside of a fortress masquerading as an idyllic, woodsy mansion, too far from the nearest neighbor to be anything but a prison, albeit a comfortable one. When pressed, his only explanation had been his fading power, the last of which was long-gone, by now. She’d pushed him for something more substantial, something logical, but the only thing Kit had to show for it was an unreasonable sense of guilt and a slew of consolation gifts, the latter only working to fuel the former.

She had to resent Toshinori. She needed to resent Toshinori.

What kind of person was she, if she couldn’t even hate her kidnapper?

That was why curiosity had to be the only reason behind her current position - laying on her stomach on the floor of Toshinor’s living room, a computer opened and poised less than an arm’s length away, her eyes never wandering from the screen. It was a modified laptop, made so she could search and browse whatever she wanted, but couldn’t put anything of her own out into it. The kind captured criminals would be given for good behavior. Still, it worked well enough for her intents, the small monitor displaying the shakey, blurry image of All Might in his prime, his brightly colored costume ripped to shreds and something she couldn’t quite make out embedded in his side. A knife, she guessed, or a piece of broken glass. Anything was possible, in the chaos of a real fight.

It was an older video, one taken only a few years after his debut, but Kit couldn’t seem to drag her attention away, not while Toshinori wasn’t home and she had so little to do. She’d seen it before, she must’ve. Everyone had. Everyone knew Toshinori was an idol, a Hero, one who took down all the big, dangerous bad guys less dedicated Pros couldn’t seem to topple. Distantly, she remembered what it’d been like to fight with him, beside Toshinori rather than against him. She’d always been one of the more nervous Heroes, seemingly the only one who could never beat that sense of terror, constant peril, dread. She did her best to be brave, but she wasn’t brave - she wasn’t supposed to be brave. She didn’t have to be. She just had to be heroic.

He was different, though.

Anyone who’d ever been in the same room as him could feel it. He was brave, and valiant and strong, strong enough to pick up the slack whenever she couldn’t dodge a piece of falling debris or reach a civilian in time. She appreciated him, she wasn’t afraid to admit that to herself. He was a good man, beneath all the paranoia and insecurity. He was a Hero.

A protector.

The title stirred something inside her, below her rational disposition and within her omega instincts, giving a voice to a part of her she’d always done her best to suppress. The desire to be protected and the engrained, hereditary guilt that came with rejecting that protection when it’s offered, especially by an alpha, an apex, at that. It wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to, but she couldn’t seem to fight it off, this time, not as the video feed in front of her refocused, All Might and his nameless foe coming into view. Her tails bristled, winding around each other and flicking aimlessly, and her ears flattening against her scalp, but she relaxed as the enemy was quickly subdued, their powers no challenge for Toshinori’s abilities. She wasn’t sure why she’d been worried, no threat was a challenge to him, not in his prime.

He’d retired, though, hadn’t he? She knew he had, she’d watched the fight live. That’d been the first time Kit hugged him, too relieved to do anything but wrap her arms around him and cry silently, if only because he’d come so close to failing, to not being there for her. How long had she’d been nice to him after that? A week, two? How quickly had she’d gone back to being awful, to trying to escape and fighting and hurting him, even if all Toshinori ever did was frown and kiss the top of her head and bandage the wound she’d manage to give herself while attempt to scale the seamless steel wall that surrounded the property. It was a miracle he hadn’t given up on her already, honestly. Leave her behind and chosen an omega who was grateful to have him, an omega who didn’t fight and run and snarl at every opportunity. Crime levels were rising outside, too, villains instilled with a new confidence now that All Might was no longer the one sent to deal with them.

Kit’d never fought in a world without All Might, before. Most Heroes hadn’t.

She didn’t want to fight with a world without All Might.

She pushed herself up, abruptly, gritting her teeth and slamming her laptop shut with so much force, she worried she’d cracked the screen. It took her more pacing than she’d like to admit before she could settle herself, calm her nerves and regain her composure. There was nothing to worry about - she knew what she had to do. If Toshinori would still have her, at least.

He was away, now, tending to one of UA’s scandals and smoothing over the concerns his absence had caused. He’d be back in three days. Four, if she was lucky.

Kit picked up her computer with a sigh, already forming a list in her mind. She had some shopping to do, if she really wanted to earn his forgiveness.

~

She hadn’t expected it to feel this warm.

Kit was an omega, she knew that, she wasn’t naive. This wasn’t her first heat, and she doubted it would be her last, but she’d spent so long under so much stress, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually been affected by her cycle. There were vague memories of teenage hormones, talks of suppressants with doctors who were trying very hard not to blush, but she’d forgotten how hard it was to combat on her own, how sticky the air seemed to turn, how impossible it became to think.

Toshinori on his way - she knew he was. He was already home, the last press conference he was expected to attend having ended earlier that day, but despite his oncoming arrival, she couldn’t seem to sit still, to wait. Her thighs kept clenching, her legs beginning to ache where they were tucked underneath her, mussing up the bed she’d worked so hard to arrange. She’d tried keeping her hands at her sides, but they seemed to want to be anywhere else, fiddling with her hair or tugging at the fingers or crossing over her stomach, where a deep, embedded emptiness had formed, growing more unignorable with each passing second. Her skin was hot to the touch, but she wanted something even warmer to cling to, to rub against and leave her scent on. Her neck throbbed, making her aware of its blankness, how ashamed she should feel for not finding a reason to mar it. She wanted to be held, she wanted to be bitten, she wanted to be bre--

Something pulled her from her thoughts, a smell, a scent. Masculine and husky, so thick she could practically taste it in the air, the scent of an alpha who’d caught an omega in heat. The sound of the bedroom door swinging open was almost secondary, Toshinori’s entrance preceded by something much more enrapturing. Her mind went black, instinct threatening to take over, but she shook it off, focusing instead on Toshinori, or rather, the open-mouthed expression of shock slowly spreading across his features.

She knew what he saw. She hadn’t tried to be subtle, wanting her intentions to come across as blatantly as possible. A smirk pulled at the corners of her lips as she imagined how she must’ve looked, kneeling in front of him, head bowed and dressed head-to-toe in lace, the fabric sheer and thin, nearly translucent everywhere it wasn’t necessary. She’d tried to pick the most tasteful style she could, a respectful baby-doll in a shade of white bright enough to rival the tails winding around each other behind her back. Most importantly, the set was completed by a dainty, decorative collar around her neck, just big enough to draw attention to her mating mark, or lack thereof, rather.

Kit couldn’t help but laugh, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and pushing herself up. Toshinori didn’t move, didn’t speak, stuttering something unintelligible as Kit approached. He was a head taller than her, but Kit wasn’t fazed, wrapping his tie around his first and jerking him down to her height, only letting go to nuzzle against the crook of his neck, her arms soon finding their way to his shoulders. She purred, softly, the sound foreign, even to her. She’d never really tried. She’d never had a mate to purr to.

But, she had a mate, now. And like hell she was going to start resisting her instincts when she’d already come so far.

Toshinori was the first one to break the silence, coming out of his stupor and taking her by the biceps. She would’ve been surprised, if she wasn’t already so far lost in that warm, inviting haze. “This is… This is new,” He stammered, for lack of a better introduction. “Love, did something happen? This isn’t like you.”

“It isn’t,” She agreed, melting into Toshinori. “That’s the problem, right? I was so mean, and so selfish, I couldn’t think about anyone but myself. I thought you were being irrational, but I…” She trailed off, the words still awkward and stiff on her tongue. Luckily, confessions came easily when her lips were pressed against his skin. “I was wrong. I’m sorry about all those awful things I said.” She sighed, silently, moving in closer, seeking more of the warmth under his skin, only glancing towards his expression once she was settled. He made no attempt to hide his skepticism, a slight frown pulling at the corners of his lips. He didn’t quite believe her, not yet. She tried to sound more convincing, although her voice still found a way to tremble. “I’d like to make it up to you, if you’d let me.”

Toshinori opened his mouth, but he didn’t get the chance to speak. Before he could get a word out, something in Kit’s chest pounded, the reverberation running down her spine and shooting straight into her unprepared, unfilled core. She doubled over before she could stop herself, digging her nails into the jacket of his suit and letting out something between a cry and a moan, whatever discomfort she felt multiplying. Again, he moved to express his concern, but she stopped him. “Toshi-” One hand rose to the faux-collar, all-but tearing at the thin fabric. She didn’t want anything in her way, in his way. “Alpha.”

She’d barely finished when what was left of Toshinori’s resolve snapped, dissolved, disappeared. She yelped as an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her off her feet and throwing her onto the bed behind them, leaving her to squirm and writhe, each movement leaving her aware of the fresh slick staining her thighs, the white silk of her panties quickly turning translucent. Meanwhile, Toshinori pulled wildly at his suit, disregarding buttons and knots in favor of ripping at whatever wouldn’t come undone quickly enough. Kit tried to move back, to find something to steady herself with, but Toshinori was faster, standing in front of her one moment and on top of her the next, a hand around her neck, ready to squeeze at the slightest hint of resistance.

“What a daring omega, dressing up like a whore and tempting your alpha,” He muttered, his voice low, rough, almost verging on aggressive. Kit’s lips parted, but all she managed to release was a strangled whine as Toshinori’s free hand ghosted over her chest, brushing against her side before finding its target, cupping her cunt and dragging another pained sound from her throat. A finger traced the length of her covered slit teasingly, what was left of her self-control fading as the urge to be filled by something, anything replaced it. She didn’t want to think, grinding against the pitiful sensation and seeking out any friction she could get, her pride be damned. Toshinori only chuckled, pressing a thumb against her clit and reveling at how quickly her breath hitched in her throat. “How long have you been planning this? That outfit must’ve taken quite a bit of time to find… unless someone’s had this little number in mind since I brought her home.”

“N-No!” The denial was weak, only spurring Toshinori on, her panties soon around her knees, allowing Kit to kick them away. The babydoll didn’t last much longer, soon ripped down the middle and shoved away as his focus shifted, falling towards her chest. In the blink of an eye, a hickey was being sucked into the top of her breast, then its twin to match. His mouth closed around her nipple, suckling and licking until the peak was sensitive and pebbled, but Kit was impatient, her sex swollen and soaked and screaming for attention. Swiftly, she entangled her fingers in his hair, tugging just hard enough to get his attention. “It hurts,” She mumbled, voice barely loud enough for him to hear. As if on cue, something inside of her began to ache, the sensation nearly bringing tears to her eyes. “I want it, Toshi’, I want you. I can’t wait any longer.”

He paused, for a moment, going still. “Darling, I haven’t even--”

“Please.” She was whining, now, pleading with him, even if her eyes were shut as tightly as they could’ve been. “I need to be mated, alpha.

That was all it took. She heard a belt unbuckling, the rustle of fabric, and just like that, she got what she wanted, what she’d beg for. A thick cockhead dragged across her entrance, but that was all the warning she got before he was pushing inside her, Kit’s cunt providing as little resistance as it possibly could. He groaned as he sunk, proceeding slowly and letting her adjust, but his self-restraint could only last so long. By the time he was hilted, Toshinori was growling into her neck, searching for something he couldn’t quite reach. Something he wasn’t going to stop looking for until he found.

Kit hardly had time to whimper before he was pulling out, a hand latching onto the base of her tails and wrenching her over, barely giving her time to bend her knees before she was being dropped, forced to support herself as Toshinori slotted himself against her back. He’d lost his delicacy, his caring touch, opting instead to give in to his own instincts, driving his cock into the deepest parts of her and abusing any spot that made her keep and cry and bury her face in the bedsheets. Her yearning was overwhelmed, forced into submission by pleasure, fulfillment. Just when she thought it couldn’t get any better, something sharp and ruthless embedded itself in her neck, her scent gland, no doubt leaving a string of bruises and puncture marks in its wake.

A mating mark.

Her mating mark.

Instantly, every sensation became white-hot electricity, frying her nerves and exploiting them, turning each touch, each thurst into something euphoric. Her body wrapped around his with a religious devotion, her back arching and moans forcing themselves through her lips unabashedly. Toshinori was no better, any sounds he might’ve made muffled by how snuggly his face was pressed into her shoulder, but the way his uneven pace stuttered and sped up was unignorable, a tell-tale sign to his own reaction. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this,” He panted, more for himself than for her. “My beautiful omega, my perfect omega. My omega.”

“Alpha…” She mewled, her end approaching too quickly, too suddenly. Without warning, she was clenching around him, the world turning white and her mind going blank as she bucked against his hips, craving anything she could get that would prolong her state of elation. She didn’t have to worry, though. Toshinori steadied himself on the small of her back, taking in a ragged breath before shuddering, forcing something much bigger through her tight entrance. It took her a moment to comprehend what the swell testing the walls of her cunt was, but the realization wasn’t an unpleasant one, not when she figured out what exactly was filling her to the brim.

His knot.

All Might’s knot.

He called out incoherently as he came, his seed claiming her inside and out, painting her walls and seeping out around his cock, dripping over her thighs. Between attempting to catch her breath and Toshinori’s gentle, comforting ministrations, everything else seemed to fade into the background, Kit simply laying bad and letting big, careful hands position her amongst an array of pillows and blankets. She just sought his warm, her arms wrapping around his torso and refusing to let go. She felt him comb through her hair, but he was smiling when she glanced up blearily, the extent of her exhaustion suddenly dawning on her. “My mate,” He whispered, bending down to peck at her lips between words. “My wonderful, beautiful mate. Sleep, sweetheart. Don’t keep yourself awake.”

She didn’t argue, only nodding and burrowing into his chest, listening to his heartbeat as she began to fade out of consciousness.

She’d never felt more protected.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt. 46

Keith hadn’t expected to be moving in to his apartment on the following Wednesday. He also didn’t expect said apartment to be three blocks away from work. The hunter had a feeling Shiro was behind that. His brother cautious over any potential dangers Platt had to offer.

He’d seen Miriam on Monday, not that he’d admit it but he’d waited in the car for Lance to message, never leaving the parking lot. Miriam seemed in good spirits as she talked about Lance and how happy she was that he’d found someone like him. Lance was a lot like his Mami. They both had this way of talking that drew you in. She also had a razor sharp sense of humour, and the way their faces scrunched up as they laughed was obviously a family trait. A family trait that left him feeling both grateful and anxious as his own thoughts kept coming back to his mother. He hadn’t said goodbye to her. He’d up and moved country, leaving her behind and it felt weird. Almost as weird as it was to be working for Coran now.

Coran seemed to like him too much. He’d asked all about how Lance was getting on. Keith felt kind of like he was betraying his boyfriend by explaining everything that had happened, which the fae seemed to pick up on as he smoothly changed the topic to how Lance was getting on with Matt. Lance seemed to be getting on better with Matt now. Matt was a tech geek like his little sister, he’d set himself up in the living room with his laptop, he and Pidge dissolving into techno-babble that only Hunk could keep up with. Now he was in Platt, all Keith wanted to do was go back to Garrison. Their apartment was already furnished, owned by Voltron, and had three bedrooms. The windows showed views of the city streets, where far too many noises drifted up to reach them on the fifth floor. Shiro said he wanted to find them apartment, yet somehow they’d ended up going with the flow. Coran meant well, but it kind of felt like they were being kept under his thumb. Keith wouldn’t have been surprised to find hidden cameras in all the light fittings like some dumb movie.

Their stuff had been delayed in delivery, so wouldn’t be there for anything from two more weeks up to a month, making things feel even more sparse and unhomely. Like he was a stranger in someone else’s life. Pidge already blown up the chat that morning complaining that he hadn’t said anything about his sudden moving and he owed her big time for leaving. Sure, he’d left, but Pidge was where he wanted to be. She wasn’t lost. She hadn’t left Lance’s house since Matt’s return. Neither of them would be there tonight when Pidge’s parents came to dinner at Lance’s. Lance was stressed over it that morning when they’d cuddled in bed. This “move” couldn’t have been on a worse day, nor did it make much sense to Keith. Sure, Coran wanted to do skill assessments on both on them first thing the following morning, but he could have dragged his arse out of bed at ungodly o’clock if it meant not seeing Lance trying to be happy for him.

That wasn’t to say Lance wasn’t happy that he’d be working through things with Shiro. He was and he’d told him that so many times Keith had to kiss him to shut up. It was more... more... like Lance had given him a taste of what it felt like to be in a real home where hunting was secondary to living. Throwing himself down on the red pleather sofa, Keith pulled out his new phone. Blue and Lance were his Home Screen, his Lock Screen a random photo of the desert he’d found on the internet. Sure, he was being sappy and stupid, but he could really use a cuddle from Blue right about now. With his leg slung over the sofa, he hated the piece of furniture. The only thing going for it was the fact it was red

“Well, this is it. Coran said we can find our own place once things settle down. We need to go shopping for the essentials. You’ll probably want more clothes”

Lance had packed him a backpack filled with the few things he’d bought him in their time together, plus a few shirts and pairs of jeans that he’d been borrowing

“Keith, did you hear me?”

Keith kept tapping on his phone, opening his chat with Lance up. Lance had messaged him, because his boyfriend was far too damn nice. His message along the lines of guessing Keith was frowning right about now, but he needed to remember that it wasn’t forever and Garrison really wasn’t that far away. Keith couldn’t help smiling slightly. Even apart, his boyfriend still cared

“Yeah. You want to go shopping”

“Unless you’re intending on sitting there sulking”

Keith frowned, his tone huffy

“I’m not sulking”

“Right. You do know Garrison is down the road”

“I’ve been told”

“Look, Lance will be fine with Curtis. Matt and Rieva have started settling in, and he’s got Pidge”

“I didn’t say he didn’t”

Keith’s thumb paused over his phone. He wanted to tell Lance how much the apartment sucked... yet... if he did that than Lance would worry. The apartment didn’t really suck. It was clean, styled around the primary colours, plus green and black. Not his colour theme, but not hideous and not Lance’s house

“Am I allowed to send him photos?”

Photos would say what he couldn’t

“Not of the outside, or from the windows. It’s for our safety and his. You’ve got your private phone, but if you lose it, it’s safer it doesn’t trace back to this place”

Keith nearly rolled his eyes, feeling like he was channeling a little Pidge as nearly corrected Shiro over “GPS” being a thing. Pointing that out would mean Shiro would probably say no to him sending photos

“I’m going send him photos first. He’ll be worried”

Shiro sighed at him. They’d picked up the keys from Coran, so it’d been like 2 hours since he last saw Lance. Talk about being pathetic

“Keith, you only saw him this morning”

“So? It’s not my fault it feels weird being here without our things. We were supposed to take this move thing slow”

“Coran wanted us...”

“I know. Let me message Lance, then we’ll go shopping”

“Okay, kiddo. You want to pick a room?”

He kind of had to. Keith knew Shiro knew he was in a flunk over moving. When they’d come back after meeting with Coran, the first thing Lance had done was wrap his arms around him and welcome him home. Was it stupid he wanted that for here to. He wanted Shiro to wrap his arms around him and welcome him back? They’d kind of moved on from doing that and Keith had forgotten how nice it felt.

Out of the three bedroom, Keith picked the one with the least amount of light. His sleep schedule had been pretty messed up before Lance came into his life. Insomnia had come with the job, long nights of tossing and turning unable to switch off after work. Lance soothed that. He didn’t question Keith’s nightmares. He didn’t make a scene or a fuss. And Keith was grateful for that. Coran had tried to make the bedrooms more homely. The beds were all queen sized, each with a flowery duvet cover and small crappy trinkety things on the bedside table. His new room was okay in it’s own way, if you liked something that looked like it’d been put together by someone who was at least several decades out of style. Taking photos, he hesitated before sending them through to Lance. He didn’t want Lance to feel he was rubbing this new distance between them in his face, so followed up with “I wish you were here”. He hoped that didn’t sound too lame. He already knew he was being stupid and lame over the move. He’d lived for his job for so long, that he really should be used to it.

“Why am I not surprised you chose the room with the least amount of light?”

Keith tried to act like he hadn’t been so absorbed in waiting for his messages to be read by Lance that he hadn’t jumped at Shiro’s voice behind him

“Because mornings can go fuck themselves?”

“Keith, I know it’s hard, but this is a fresh start for both of us. I think it’s what we both needed. Adam wouldn’t want us to be stuck on his memory. He loved you, kiddo. He’d want you to be happy”

Playing the Adam card was a dirty trick, because Keith knew Shiro was right. His brother probably had a lot of bad memories in Rome, and hell knew he wouldn’t miss James and the rest of the werewolves

“I know. Do we really have to go shopping?”

“Unless you want to start our night with figuring out how to eat the sofa, then yes. We really have to go shopping”

“Fiiiiine. I’m getting a new cover for the bed”

“I don’t think Coran will mind”

“I don’t care if he does. Lance said he’d judge me on me, but he talks so much about Lance that it’s kind of weird”

“Well they have known each other longer than we’ve been alive. He’d got to be better than Iverson”

“Iverson can suck my dick”

“I didn’t know you felt that way. Better not tell Lance”

Keith rolled his eyes. Out of all his instructors Iverson had been the worse. Always going on about how he could do better. Always going on about how he should be more like Shiro and Adam. He’d punched him hard enough to detach the man’s retina in his left eye. He felt like shit for it. He’d very nearly been thrown out of it, but Shiro had stepped in. Needless to say he hated him even more after the incident

“Lance and I are taking things slow”

“That still doesn’t mean you don’t want Iverson to...”

“Say that again and I’ll punch you in the dick”

Shiro gave a laugh

“Okay. Okay. Point made. It’s not every day that you mind out your brother is into older men”

“I’m not. It’s just Lance. And stop making me talk about him. I don’t like missing him”

“You don’t want to miss him?”

“I don’t like feeling like I’m on the other side of the planet... I feel like... like something’s going to happen”

“I know it’s hard, but he’s not alone”

“That’s the problem. What if he turns into a bat?”

“Then they’ll cover it”

“What if he goes into heat and something happens?”

“Keith, he was perfectly okay on Sunday, and we’ll be back in Garrison for the weekend. If anything happens he has your number”

“I’m overreacting, aren’t I?”

Keith stared down at his phone, Lance hadn’t replied yet. He didn’t like that Lance hadn’t replied. He was probably busy with the others, but what if he was busy he forgot about him? Coming up behind him, Keith was lifted off his feet by Shiro, his brother dumping him down on his new bed, before collapsing next to him

“I forgot how big you’ve gotten”

“You’re just getting old”

Shiro snorted at him. Keith huffing as he slapped his brother’s stomach

“Geez. Thanks for that. Look, it’s a new relationship, I get it”

“I just feel like...”

“Lance isn’t about to forget you. He isn’t about to skip town. He’s probably busy making lunch for the others”

“I know. I feel stupid for missing him”

“Nah. Not stupid, only human. Now, can we please go shopping? I’m starving”

“Lance fed you this morning”

“So? All this morning has me hungry”

“What moving? It was three bags and your suitcase. You could have at least packed clothes for me”

“Let’s not dwell on my mistakes. This is going to be good for us. I can feel it”

“Yeah... maybe”

That was all the enthusiasm Keith could muster. He really was pathetic. He’d survived all those years without Lance, a few more days wouldn’t change anything.

*

Saturday took its sweet time rolling around. For an underground complex, VOLTRON wasn’t as bad as it seemed. There gym complex was kind of awesome. It had everything Keith could ever want from a gym, including a pool which he was excited to try out. Thursday had been all about testing physical strengths, once they’d been through full medicals... his heart passing with flying colours. Friday gave him flash backs to high school he could have done without as Coran tested their base knowledge with written exams. Allura had offered to show them the sights around the city, but Keith wanted to do that with Lance.

It wasn’t that he disliked Allura, she was just someone he didn’t know. Friday he’d tried out the gym, sensors stuck to him so Coran could analyse the data. The man pointing out the few jumps in his heart rate which he delighted in pointing out coincided with messages from Lance. Lance sending him stupid gym work out memes, despite Keith telling him Coran was monitoring his physical condition. He’d turned into one of “those” people in the last three days, those kind of people who waited for every message and leapt to check their phones at the first chance. He’d never been that before. He’d never worried over what to say, or cared what kind of face he was making. Shiro called it his “Lance face”. Keith called him stupid. He missed his boyfriend and when Saturday came, he couldn’t have been happier.

Having barely slept, thanks to over thinking seeing Lance again, his two coffees didn’t agree with him during the car ride. Shiro had to pull over twice because he’d gone pale, his stomach rolling the whole drive. Apparently the car came with the job, it wasn’t anything remarkable, a plain sedan designed to be like the other thousand plain white sedans in Platt. The only difference being it was teched up, and carried a small arsenal in the trunk in case of emergency situations. Shiro thought he was hilarious as he’d bought a solar dancing thing for the dash which was a vampire whose head and arms moved. Keith could only groan at him, supposing it was better than a dancing hula girl. If he’d said as much out loud, Shiro would have made it his mission to find one, so the hunter wisely kept his mouth shut.

Pulling into Lance’s drive, Keith nearly threw up as his nerves bloomed on top of everything. It felt like every time his social worker had pulled up at next foster home. He’d be there for a time, proven too much effort, then move onto the next family. By the time reached Lance’s house, Lance was out the front waiting. Blue trying to escape from his hold. They’d finally made it and the drive couldn’t have felt any longer if Shiro had actually tried

“I didn’t think my driving was that bad”

“I think I used the wrong milk”

Shiro had his own milk. Living with Lance, Lance automatically swapped to lactose free and he hadn’t given it any other though. Not all milk turned his insides into a pit of boiling lava, but apparently Shiro’d found another brand that did. Maybe it was easier to hide his butterflies under the guise of bad milk when it meant ignoring memories of the past

“I’ll swap it out when we get home. Need help getting inside?”

Keiths stomach gurgled, Keith hoping things weren’t about to get any worse than this in front of Lance. Lance could probably hear them... he didn’t want his boyfriend knowing. He was grown man. He shouldn’t be this nervous. This was Lance. He had no need to be nervous in front of Lance, plus, what would he say about Keith showing up sick?

“It’s an upset stomach, not a broken leg”

“Okay. Let me know if it gets any worse. I can pick up something from the chemist if you need?”

“Don’t blow this out of proportion”

“I forgot how moody bad milk makes you”

Shiro was lucky he was his brother. He wasn't being moody... Shiro should be grateful he hadn't brought up Curtis, like a moody anger loaf might. They might need to check on Matt, Rieva and Lance, but Keith would bet money that Shiro and Curtis were a hell of a lot closer than his brother wanted to admit. But no. He wouldn’t say that. Because he wasn’t moody.

[fuck-lov3-do-drugs]

There's some stuff I wanted to get off my chest but idk I didn't want anyone I know to know

My mum cheated on my dad, it triggered his bipolar disorder. He went psycho, threatened to smash my mums car up, put nails in her car tyres, wanted us out the house, threatened her, threatened my step dad the guy she cheated with, chased him down with his friends with crowbars threatening to smash his head in.

My dad left eventually no goodbye no nothing for q year. Then he wanted to see us again because he was stable. His new gf had kids, he put them above us always. He was loving tho.

He didn't come get us one Christmas, we waited hours on hours and he still didn't show.

We cut ties off with him at 9ish yrs old. He lives in Ireland now, I speak to him sometimes.

Then growing up my step dad was abusive

I didn't wash a knife up properly and he threw it at me. I splashed him in the middle of summer with cold water, he chucked a jug of boiling hot water over me.

It was little things like that that scared me at first.

Then one day I came out the shower and he called me downstairs still in a towel. With a man I trusted, looked up at as my own father and he raped me. Kept asking if it felt good I was a child I didn't know know to fucking say. I didn't know what to fucking do. He Told me don't tell your mum she wouldn't understand it.

I kept that secret for years. It never happened again.

Idk if he did it to my sister aswell or not. I made a habit to not leave her alone in the house with him for years after.

Then comes secondary school. I got bullied by a girl I thought was my closest friend, she humiliated me from the way I looked to the way I dressed to the way I acted. She made me hate everything about me. She started dating the guy I liked so I stole him from her when they broke up. And did the same with another lad months later. She hated me.

Then came a guy I was close mates with he teamed up with her and together they made me scared to go to school. They petrified me.

Another guy she managed to make hate me was a guy who hated me because I told him to turn round in class once. He messaged me a nasty message that fucks me up still to this day. He made me think I was fucked up. That I was all wrong in the world. He told me to kms and I wanted to for months after that.

There was multiple occasions where I was shoved to the floor where I had my head whacked off a locker hinge. Where I had chewing gum shoved on me, where they blocked my path to lessons to make me feel scared. I had them bully me for hairy arms, for dandruff, for my accent. They had me wanting to die at 14 years old.

Then in college I realised I was bi and a Muslim girl hated how open I was she tried to accuse me of being a rapist an abuser because I said my ex mad eme wanna burn her shit on her front door step and because I said a girl was pretty once. She made me feel so low. I was diagnosed with bpd by an ex gp turned college counsellor, I refuse to go get it officially on record.

At this point I was dating a girl who used to abuse me, beat me to crap, left me high and half dead in a ditch, slept with someone and sent me a pic of them in bed.

Then another girl, who cheated with her ex bf but used me getting off on the phone to get herself wet for him, said she didn't want it but agreed to meet him, agreed to go to his bedroom, agreed to kiss him. She broke up with me a lot, I went to London to see her behind my mums back, I lost my virginity to her. Then she ended things with me while I was with my grandma on Feb 14th because she had been speaking to someone else.

At the same time one of my oldest friends I'd known since 5yrs old had a gf who hated me, hid my lanyard in the hamster cage, poured juice over my head, but a wet umbrella in my pocket with my phone and loads of wires for my phone, hit me on the head with a metal tube for the umbrella. My first never stopped it.

Then I met the girl I thought I was going to be with forever, and I cheated on her with another girl because I was scared of commitment. I fucked her head about. I was scared of everyone around her, so I hooked up with a girl I knew. We ended things very negatively.

Then I lost my best friend, my ex bf. He had a psychotic breakdown and was arrested for vandalism. His dad never wanted to press charges just to get him help but they kept him in a cell and refused to let him see his son. They took his jacket off him because he tried to strangle himself. They left him alone and he killed himself with his trousers. I was the last person to find out.

Then I started seeing my friend I'd known for 10 years, she was a head fuck, one minute she loved me the next she didn't like girls, she hooked up with people behind my back. Refused to ever see me, left me outside her house for 3 hours in -4° weather. We were on and off for months. She told me I was fucked up, that I had no right to grieve my best friend, that I'd never heal seeing his family, that I needed therapy because she didn't know who I was anymore.

Then I met a girl I liked, she was cool, started dating hooking up whatever. We ended things and my head couldn't cope with that, my release was gone. So I turned to drugs, mdma, coke, ket, anything I could get my hands on and I made a friend I thought I'd have forever but she started dating my best friend at the time. Both of them together was so fucking toxic. He cheated, manipulated and fucked her over and still to this day even after they've broke up she thinks he's the best thing in the world.

I got clean for 7 months, got a good job, got a good car after two car crashes. And then my step dad was diagnosed with cancer and had weeks to live. I sat by his bed and watched him die for 4 days, 4 days where I had to watch sympathy be given to him where I had to have someone I cared about kick off at me because I was with my step dad as he died and not with her.

Then I swiped right on a girl I thought was beautiful. And we started talking and within a month I was falling for her massively, we gave it a shot lasted bout 3 months lmao. We fucked, which was my first sober time ever. I proposed, I love her. She is the love of my life, she showed me everything before was infatuation not love. I never felt that way about someone before. And then I started using again on the one day she needed me the most. But that makes sense right? Because addicts hate the attention not being on them. Because why wouldn't I use when someone needs me most. Anyway we broke up 😬 then I tried to od, became a heavy drug user again and now we're friends or something idk. I just can't lose her again. I really can't. She is my reason to be sober and without her idk if I'm strong enough.

Anyway lmao sorry for that idek if anyone will read this but yeah

My fucked up life aha

[merinnan]

Nevermore - Part 1

Humanity always thought alien life would come from the stars…but it came from beneath the sea.

A fissure between two tectonic plates in the Pacific Ocean. A portal between dimensions, one that would come to be known simply as The Breach.

Jiang Cheng was 14 when the first kaiju came through the Breach and made landfall in San Francisco. By the time tanks, jets, and missiles took it down, six days and thirty five miles later, three cities were destroyed and tens of thousands of lives lost.

In the safety of their home in Lotus Pier, half a world away, Jiang Cheng and his family could only watch the footage in horror, and join the world in the collective sigh of relief when the skyscraper-high monster was finally killed.

Then, five months later, another kaiju came from the Breach and laid waste to Hong Kong. Eight months later, a third destroyed Sydney.

This was the point when the world came together to find a better way to fight these creatures than just nuking their own cities. The best and brightest from around the world worked ceaselessly, culminating in the Jaeger Project – a way for two humans to merge their brains into a single supercomputer, more powerful than any silicon chips, in order to control the giant battle robots created specifically to fight and defeat the kaiju before they could make landfall.

Once ready for use, the Jaeger program was born.

Just before their sixteenth birthdays Jiang Cheng’s adopted brother, Wei Wuxian, came charging into his room, waving a printout of the article announcing both the program, and that recruitment was now open. As soon as he was able to make sense of his brother’s excited words, Jiang Cheng met Wei Wuxian’s eyes, and in that instant they both knew.

As soon as they were old enough, they would join the program together.

~~~

Whatever dreams he might have been having were cut through by the sound of a shrill ringing. Jiang Cheng groaned, pulling his pillow over his head in an effort to block the noise it. It paused momentarily, then began again.

He tried throwing his pillow at the phone, but in his sleepy state the pillow fell short, and he finally gave in and answered the call.

“Rise and shine, Wanyin!” came the far-too-cheerful voice on the other end. Jiang Cheng groaned again.

“Fuck off, Choi. What do you want?”

“What, it isn’t enough to say good morning to my favourite grouch?”

“Not at 4 fucking am. This better be good, or I’m going to break your fucking legs next time I’m in Alaska.”

On the other end of the line, Tendo Choi just laughed. “It just hasn’t been the same here since you left to help Lan Qiren set up the secondary training facility at Shanghai. We no longer have to live in fear of broken legs. Not from you, anyway.”

Jiang Cheng desperately wished he hadn’t thrown his pillow after all. At least then he could put it back over his head in an effort to go back to sleep while Tendo babbled. The man was almost as bad as…

…as…

He closed his eyes, punching the headboard of the bed. As someone he didn’t want to think about at 4am. Or ever, if it came to that.

“Point. Get to it before I hang up and turn the fucking phone off.”

“Fine, fine. Latest bunch of recruits for your lot have just left. They should get to you mid afternoon.”

“This couldn’t have wa…” His complaints were cut off by Tendo, long used to dealing with him, simply not stopping to let him speak.

“Bit of a mix this time. The usual greenies that Kodiak Island doesn’t have room for, plus a bunch who’ve passed the first cut, and then also the ones who are almost ready to go that Marshal Lan wanted. Something about a ranger who needs a new co-pilot?”

“…huh?” Ranger? Co-pilot? Had Lan Qiren mentioned that at all? His eyes fell on the pile of briefing notes that MianMian had shoved at him yesterday as he was returning from the training grounds. Speaking of…

Climbing out of bed, Jiang Cheng retrieved his pillow before burrowing back under his blanket, and cutting off Tendo’s follow up explanation which he was ignoring.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Call MianMian and wake her up. I’m going back to sleep.”

With that, he hung up and put his pillow over his head, determined to ignore anything else.

~~~

“Jiang Cheng! Jiang Cheng!” The familiar, exuberant shouting is capped off with the expected body slam from a red and black blur, Jiang Cheng having just enough time to brace himself for it before reaching around to put the culprit – his brother – into a headlock.

“Aaah! Jiang Cheng, let me gooooo! A-Jie, make him stop!” Wei Wuxian whines, flailing piteously and trying to give their sister Jiang Yanli his best puppy-dog eyes, as if he wasn’t Jiang Cheng’s match at pretty much everything, including wrestling.

“A-Xian, you started it,” Jiang Yanli chides gently, dropping back to walk next to her brothers. “A-Cheng, let him go now.”

“Yes, A-Jie,” the pair chorus, Jiang Cheng finally releasing his brother – although not before firmly rubbing knuckles against the top of his head, eliciting more mock-whining. Straightening up, Wei Wuxian pouts at him, before slipping back to his usual cheerful grin and waving papers at him before shoving them into his hands.

“Look, look!”

Jiang Cheng looks down, trying to make sense of what’s just been shoved into his hands. He registers the logo first – the logo of the Pan Pacific Defence Corps. Then his name.

“Is this….?!” He shakes the letter out, skimming it quickly.

“Yes!” Wei Wuxian grins at him, then at their sister. “We got into the Jaeger program! We’re gonna pilot a jaeger together!”

“If we pass…”

“Ah, don’t be like that, Jiang Cheng. Of course we’re gonna pass! You and me, we’re gonna be the best team of them all!”

~~~

Whatever dreams he might have been having were cut through by the sound of an alarm buzzing. Opening one bleary eye, Jiang Cheng glared at the numbers blinking at him. 6:30. With a groan, a not-so-muffled curse, and a silent vow that he was definitely breaking Tendo’s legs the next time he saw him, he wiped the wetness out of his eyes and crawled out of bed to get ready for another day.

AO3

Nevermore Masterlist

[safestplace]

pacing in my kitchen, pacing in my bedroom, pacing in the front lawn, but i’m moving to the porch soon.

i don’t like having feelings.

observant, right?  very on the nose.  very descriptive.  not vague at all.  just straight to the point.  i don’t like having feelings.

i don’t get them a lot, which is good, because whenever i get them, they settle up inside me, and then they attack like angry hornets masquerading as butterflies.  and i hate it.

it’s only happened once before, i guess, and that was with my old boyfriend, nate, and that entire relationship was complete and utter chaos, a bomb that blew up in my face before i’d even realized i’d hit the detonator.  it was over nearly as soon as it started, but the feelings had lingered, and lingered, and lingered, until i was stalking him on social media every day on secondary accounts i’d made since i’d blocked him on all of my primaries.

i shouldn’t get crushes on people, because it doesn’t work in my favor.  i either feel everything or nothing.  and for nate, i thought it was everything.

but right now, from where i’m sitting in a lukewarm pool of water, staring up at the mosaic glass tiles surrounding me, phone gripped in my hand so tight that my knuckles are turning the same color as my bathtub, i’m beginning to wonder if that had been nothing.

because this feels like everything.

this feels like poison entering my body.  this feels like every bad thought i’ve ever had all boiling to a head at once.  this is reality and it’s staring right at me on my fucking phone screen.

preston raimi is in a relationship with cait o’mara.  72 likes.  19 comments.

what did i do?  what did i do?  how did i do this?  why do i care?

how fucking dare she?

everything is spiraling back at me.  preston’s and my argument from last night, how smug cait had sounded (even though it was probably just in my head, because she’s a good person, and she’s not smug, and there’s nothing wrong with her but there’s everything wrong with me) when she told me the big news.

i’d begged him to kiss me, i’d begged him to take me home and fuck me and choose me and he’d said he couldn’t.  “cait…” is what he had murmured with his mouth against mine, and he’d pushed me off, and he’d shaken his head.

“fuck cait,” i’d spat back.  “and fuck you, are you serious?”

it just got uglier from there.  i don’t think any amount of alcohol will erase it.

i’m bleary-eyed when i see preston’s mom congratulating them, dropping my phone to the side of the tub and letting myself sink underwater.

it’s my bathtub and i’ll drown if i want to.

except i don’t drown.  i have to come up for air, and i have to think about the fact that preston has a girlfriend now.  an actual girlfriend.  and it’s cait.  perfect fucking cait with her hair and her accent and her pretentious taste in music and movies and her trilingual bullshit.  cait, who’s had a crush on him for years, as she told me, but never acted on it because of me.

because of me.

because she thought he was mine until she realized that he wasn’t.

but he is.

of course he is.

he’s mine.  preston raimi belongs to me whether he wants to or not.

doesn’t he?

am i crazy?

i’m crazy, aren’t i?

i’m like a main character from a fucking lifetime movie.  that’s why i’m the one who gets dumped.

i slink myself out of the tub, pitifully so, and burrow myself into a bathrobe i stole from a hotel a few years back.  it isn’t even that soft, i think i just liked the idea of taking something that wasn’t mine.

(sensing a pattern, right?)

i wrap my hair up in a towel and put on some music to drown out my thoughts.  i move from the bathroom to my bed, sitting on the edge, not looking at my phone.

i will look anywhere but my phone.

the door opens, just a crack, and kat pops her head in.  “just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead.”

“not dead.”  yet.

“good.”

she hovers, headphones slung around her neck like a cashmere scarf before she lets herself in the rest of the way.  “cait’s not that hot, you know.”

my heart lurches all the way down to the pit of  my stomach.  i mean, she’s right.  but that’s not the point.  i don’t bother giving her a response to it, some big speech about how preston isn’t the type to care about something like that, even if he isn’t and i know he isn’t and he never has been.  it’s not something i’ve ever had to worry about, haven’t even had to think about, because i’ve always just been concerned with how he thinks and feels and cares about me.

and now i don’t even know the answer to that.

i want to say that i miss him.  i want to say that everything was my fault.  that i did this.  that i’m my own wrecking ball.  but instead, i just pull my knees up to my chest, and i rest my chin there, and i close my eyes, and i wish to be anywhere but here on any day but today.

“are you sure i’m not squishing you?” he was laughing above me, peering down and grinning that stupid shit-eating smile he always gave me.  i was combing my fingers through his hair, partly out of habit, and partly to pull his face that much closer to me.  i kissed him square on the mouth, grinning against his lips.

“you might be, but don’t you dare move.”

preston felt perfectly comfortable from where he was laying situated on top of me, his body much longer, limbs hanging off my narrow twin-sized bed.  i didn’t last in the dorm rooms very long, and there was even a period of time where the two of us debated if we should just move in together, but we realized that would likely result in a murder-suicide or us missing literally all of our classes due to — eh hem — extra curricular activities, so for the time being, we were both sucking it up and sticking it out in the dorms.

“how’s your roommate?” he spoke into my neck, and i tugged him back up so i could kiss him one more time, hooking my leg around his waist.

“scottish.  british.  irish.  one of ‘em.”  i didn’t care right then.  i cared about the fact that he tasted like the red hots he’d stolen from my bag earlier and how the cinnamon lingered on my tongue each time he kissed me a little deeper.

“hot.”

“want me to invite her over?”

“you should invite the dude across the hall while you’re at it.  the one that thinks he’s the next dave grohl.”

“god with the fucking goatee?  how did you know what i’m into?”

our conversation trails off, words replaced with kisses and sighs, hands working to remove pieces of clothing until we’re sliding under the covers.

but before anything can happen, his phone is going off once, twice, three times.  it’s his sister, i can tell by the ringtone, and i bat my hand around on my nightstand for his phone before shoving it into the palm of his hand.  priscilla wouldn’t call him if it wasn’t important, and i do know that even if i don’t know much else.

“kinda super busy,” he’s grumbling, but then he’s sitting up, hovering his body above me in a plank, and i’m tracing invisible lines on his skin with my fingertips.  “what do you mean?  again?”  his face is wavering, but not the way it used to when he’d get this sort of call — the “mom and dad are fighting again” call.  it used to crumple into a sort of panic, but now he just looked tired, exhausted.  because he was used to it.  he didn’t blame himself anymore, the way he once did.

“did they say it was for real this time?”  a beat.  “he got an apartment?”

i sink lower into the mattress, half-expecting him to get up off the bed, but he just follows me down, laying on top of me like a weighted blanket — sinking onto me.

they hung up after that, and for a while, we didn’t say anything.  “family fucking sucks,” he finally mutters into the hollow of my shoulder.

i agreed with him, but i didn’t say as much.  instead, i just pulled him enough that i could look at him, and i put my hands onto his cheeks.  i rested my forehead to his.  “you know i’ll always be your family, right?” i whispered.  i kissed the tip of his nose, and i kissed the space between his brows.

“i know.”  his cheeks were flushed red.  his pulse thrummed from where his wrist was pressed against my ribcage.  softly, he echoed it just one more time.  “i know.”

i wonder if cait knows about the spot behind his ear that makes his voice shake.  i wonder if she knows how much he hates birds, to the point that you can’t even joke with him about it.

i wonder if she knows that when his parents signed the divorce papers, he slept in my bed for three weeks straight and we didn’t fuck once.

i wonder if she knows that i’m his family.  and that i’ll always be his family.

i wonder if she knows that he’s mine, too.

[cami-chats]

Art Class

Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV)

Relationship: Arya Stark/Sandor Clegane

Warnings: None

On AO3 or below

Art class was, in a nutshell, dumb as shit. Sandor hated it. Why had he let Berric sign him up for this? Right, because he was traumatized. Or depressed. Or whatever other shit that he'd said while convincing Sandor to agree to this. Berric had said it was a good idea. Sandor hadn't agreed, but he'd let it happen. The dumbarse had been all 'It brought me out of a dark time in my life' and Sandor had figured that he'd stop talking as much if he didn't fight him on it.

He hated it. He also showed up for every class, twice a week. He could admit-- to himself only, he wasn't going to say a word about it to Berric-- that he liked the company. Everyone there was like him. They all had their injuries. There was a guy that'd had his tongue cut out. It made his own burn mark and half-useless eye feel like a cakewalk in comparison. One person was missing six fingers, total. A couple different people were amputees. The woman that sat next to him was blind, and she swung between overly chipper to morose. Sandor never knew what mood she'd be in when he got there.

That being said, she was his favorite part of art class. She was a pissy little thing, and most days, they parted ways with her patting him on the shoulder and telling him that she thought his art was getting better. She did engravings so she could feel it; he only ever did charcoal.

"You here, Sandor?" Arya said, taking her seat.

"Yep."

"Oh good. I keep worrying that one day you're going to be too grumpy to drag your arse up the stairs."

He snorted, and her smile widened. She was in a good mood today, then.

"Why do you take this class? I've always wondered. You don't seem to like it very much."

"Berric signed me up for it," he said with a grunt.

"Dondarrion?"

"Yeah."

Arya snorted. "I can't believe you're taking advice from that dick."

"I don't, normally."

"Why did you this time?"

He shrugged with one shoulder, despite knowing that she couldn't see it. "Didn't have anything else to do that day."

"And you like your smudgy drawings so much that you decided to keep coming back," Arya said with a nod.

Sandor grunted in agreement. Then, "How would you know they're smudgy?"

"My overly supportive sister tells me that's how all charcoal drawings look."

"Is this the same sister that used to move your cane when you were sleeping?"

"I only have the one sister. And that was a long time ago. She's not half as bitchy anymore. You'd like her," she added. "Everyone does."

"Hmph."

Arya's grin widened. Not much, but she was on his good side, so he could see it. "You want to get coffee after this? I'll buy."

"Sure," he said, because he didn't have anything else to do, and she'd already said that she was buying.

*

One coffee after class turned into coffee after every class. Sandor was getting sick of coffee, and he said so.

"Fine," Arya said. "We'll get smoothies today. Or- what, juice? There's a juice bar five blocks west of where we usually get coffee." 'We' she said, like Sandor did anything other than follow her around.

"What the fuck is a juice bar?"

"Like a normal bar, only with juice," she said. She was in a bad mood today, so it came across as more cutting than it usually would have.

"Whatever you want is fine," he replied.

"Smoothies it is." She reached out with her cane and started walking, and Sandor fell into step next to her like he always did. Well, mostly next to her. Slightly behind so that he didn't bump into her. And also he used to be a bodyguard, so he had become accustomed to walking behind people. 

They got smoothies a couple times. They went to the juice bar once. Sandor didn't like the looks people gave him, and Arya was in a bad enough mood that day that she said some shit. It was pretty tame, but she didn't think the employees would want her back.

*

"And for your girlfriend?" the waiter asked, and Sandor looked at him blankly. This was the problem with going to a sit-down restaurant instead of ordering online. He hadn't had to order food to a person's face in ten years and he’d liked it that way.

1. Girlfriend? When the fuck did Arya become his girlfriend? 2. Couldn't he have asked her? She was blind, not mute. That being said, he did know what she wanted, if only because he'd had to read her everything off the menu, since they hadn't had one in braille for her. He told the waiter, they nodded, said they'd be back soon with the appetizers, then left.

"Aww, I'm your girlfriend," Arya teased.

"He said it, not me."

"You didn't correct him."

"Should I have?"

"Probably not," she said. "Does this mean I can tell Robb to stop trying to set me up?"

"Why was he trying to set you up?"

"Cause he's an arse. If I tell him I'm dating someone, he'll let off."

"I'm not meeting any of your family," Sandor said, because he could see the way this conversation was going. She wanted her brother to leave her alone, and if he didn't believe that Sandor was dating her, he'd want to meet him. And Sandor wasn't doing that shit.

Arya snorted. "I don't want you to meet them either. They barely like me; they're not going to like you."

"Comforting," Sandor said flatly, but what did he care? People never liked him, and he never liked them. He barely liked Arya half the time.

*

Okay, so he lied. He liked Arya all the time. Most of the time he was happy to spend time with her, but like hell was he going to say that to her face. It's not how they talked to each other, and it's not how Sandor talked to literally anyone.

And they were dating now. Officially. It wasn't just a random waiter that mistook them for a couple and then they joked about it afterwards. They were dating. He knew, because they actually saw each other on days that they didn't have art class. And also she'd been to his flat. To say nothing of the sex, but he figured that was kind of secondary, considering how neither of them liked to leave the house more than they had to.

"Why do you do this anyways?" he asked as they walked down the stairs from the studio.

"Do what?" she asked flatly. She wasn't in a good mood today. He wasn't either, to be honest.

"Class," he replied with a vague gesture back to the room that she couldn't see.

She didn't answer for a while. When they got outside, she stopped a few steps away from the door. "My family makes me go. They all think that I need to get out of the house more than I do on my own. My mother thinks I should do something ladylike. Art qualifies."

"Mm."

"She hates that I don't show her the finished products."

"Why don't you?" he asked.

"Why don't you show your sodding family your coal smears? They're not good. Neither of us are good at this. If I show her that I'm bollocks at it, she'll make me do something else." She fiddled with her cane for a moment. She didn't adjust anything, just turned it in a circle in her hands like she was nervous.

"Tell her you like this." Sandor thought it was pretty obvious. Besides, Arya wasn't the sort of person that let people push her the direction they wanted, so he didn't see how that would work.

"You say that like my mother is a person that you can have a conversation with. My brother Bran told her that he doesn't need help getting in and out of bed, and she still hired a buggering nurse for him. He was so tired of it that he moved back home. It was just easier."

"That why you still live there?"

"Uh yeah. I could live on my own and be fine. But I don't, because this is easier than having her blow up my phone."

Her comments about not wanting Sandor to meet her family made more sense. Not that he'd been bothered by it very much to begin with. Families were shit. "You could live with me. That way you wouldn't be alone, but you wouldn't have to stay with your mother, either."

She didn't answer right away. That was fine. It gave Sandor plenty of time to wonder why the fuck he'd said that.

He didn't take it back. He could've, but he hadn't changed his mind about it. He knew where he stood with her, which was more than he could say about everyone else in his life.

"You'd have to change shit about your flat, if I said yes. It's a lot of trouble."

"What kind of changes?"

"Nothing loose laying on the floor. It's easy to trip, especially if I'm not expecting it to be there. Nothing hard thrown on the couch. I have a braille label maker, and you'd have to let me put it on all the food."

"That's fine." He left shite laying around because he was too lazy to pick it up, not because he was incapable of keeping it clean. Besides, he had to clear everything when she came over anyways. It would be a little weird to have labels on his food, but if she already had the label maker for it, then it didn't matter. No skin off his back to use it.

"You wouldn't be able to move any of my shite. Even if it annoys you, you'd have to talk to me first. I can't find something, I get pissed, and then we get in a huge fight. And that applies to everything. Shoes, my wallet, keys, books."

"I wouldn't touch them," he grumbled. He already didn't move her shite, though it would be different if she was living with him and not just staying over every once in a while.

"I'll think about it. I mean, as much as I'd like to say yes right away, this sounds like something Sansa would do. Fall in love and then move in after a stupidly short amount of time."

"You're saying no because it sounds like something your sister would do?"

"No, dipshit, I'm saying I need to think about it because going straight for the romantic gesture is something a dumbarse would do."

Sandor snorted. They were back on familiar ground. He was pretty sure she'd never mentioned her sister without saying she was an idiot or a romantic-- often both in the same breath, like they'd just done.

He had no idea what he was thinking with this. He really and honestly didn't. Anyone he could even jokingly call a friend would either laugh in his face when they found out, or they'd ask if he was feeling alright. And then they wouldn't believe him and take him to the hospital because all of his so-called friends were arseholes. If any of them had met Arya, they'd understand why it suddenly seemed like he was off his rocker. Of course, none of them had, and with good reason. He didn't want to spend time with his friends most days, why would he subject her to that?

He could admit that it was weird. That she lived with her family, but he hadn't met any of them. And sure, it was strange that neither of them had met the other's friends, but to be honest, they were both anti-social. It was a miracle they'd spent so much time together outside of his flat. It was more time in a month that he'd spent out than the last year combined.

The rest of their time together passed like usual. Until he was dropping her off-- for one of her brothers to come get her; he didn't get why he couldn't just drop her off at her house, but she insisted on it-- then she said, "I should have an answer for you next time we see each other."

"Fine."

"See you around," she said, accompanied by a finger gun, like she did every time she said something about 'seeing' a person.

"Yeah."

*

People sometimes stared at Sandor, but it wasn't like this. Not with such focus. Normally, it was guiltily. They tried to hide how their eyes kept coming back to him. At first, it was because he was tall, and then they saw his face, and people were curious by nature. No one had the balls to ask him to his face, but that was probably a good thing. If someone asked him how his face got burned up, he'd likely offer to show them first hand. Or he'd just punch them because that was easier.

Point is, this person was full on staring at him, arms crossed over his chest and a tight look on his face.

"Do you need something?" Sandor asked flatly.

"You're Sandor, right? Clegane?"

"What's it to you?"

"You're dating my sister."

"Hm. You don't look anything like her," he stated. Arya had said that she looked like her father and everyone else took more after their mother, but this was a bit more of a difference than he'd been expecting. Then he frowned. "You look familiar." And not the family sort of familiar.

"I just wanted to introduce myself since Arya refuses," he said, completely ignoring Sandor saying that he looked familiar.

And he did look familiar. Not the kind of familiar that meant he'd met him while working. More like he reminded him of a celebrity, but Sandor couldn't put his finger on who it was. It's not like he knew that many celebrities; he didn't pay attention to that shit.

"I'm Robb; I'm sure she's mentioned me. I'm her oldest brother, and I've known her for her entire life, as compared to you, who've known her for, what, six months?"

Hard to imagine why she'd want to keep her space from them, Sandor thought to himself wryly. Her brother was still looking at him like he expected an answer. He was tempted to tell him to bugger off. He didn't do that, though. As much as Arya whinged about her family, he knew that she cared about them. If Sandor pissed them off, they'd have issues. "Okay?" He wasn't used to playing nice, so sue him. If Arya got pissed at him for this, he'd at least have the defense that her brother wasn't being nice either.

"Well, you're just as crabby as she is, so I can see why you get along," her brother-- Robb, apparently-- said.

"Okay?" Sandor repeated.

Slowly, the hostile posture faded, leaving him more curious than protective. "You know, I don't think you want to hurt her."

"Congratulations on stating the obvious," he grumbled. He'd said two things, and he was already tired of talking. "We done?"

"Well, I'm guessing you'd just leave if I said no, so, yeah, we're done. I'm sure we'll see each other again."

Gods, Sandor hoped not. It probably was going to happen, though, so he should get used to the idea. "Fine," he said, because saying goodbye wasn't really something he did, but he wanted to discourage Arya's brother from thinking that he wasn't done with this conversation.

*

"How the hell did your brother even find me?" he asked. He was laid out on his bed, pressing his phone to his ear, talking to Arya-- who, as she'd informed him, should be packing but was also laying down on her bed; she said that she had to soak up her last days of not sharing a bed with anyone.

"He's a stalker freak," she said, which didn't actually explain anything.

He paused, waiting for her to elaborate, which she did after a couple seconds.

"He's rich, and he's got a contact down at the police station. He knew your name, and apparently there's only two other Sandor's in this city. I don't know if he was able to figure out it was you based on other information he had, or if his plan was to visit all three."

Sandor snorted.

"Yeah. See why I want to get out of here? I know he means well, but gods, ever heard of boundaries?"

"I'd say he hasn't."

"Yeah. You know what's funny?"

"Hm?"

"Sansa's the only one being decent about this. Well, Jon hasn't heard yet, or I'm sure he'd be supportive too, but everyone else is losing their sodding minds. It's funny because I never would've guessed that she'd end up being one of my favourite siblings after how we were as kids."

"Yeah," he agreed, because he couldn't imagine it. Granted, he only had the one sibling, and Gregor was nothing like any of hers.

"I'll actually introduce you to Jon when he comes 'round again."

"What's he off doing?"

"Getting a doctorate in- oh sodding hell, I think Free Folk history? Or maybe it's just Free Folk studies. I dunno. Something like that."

"Why?"

"I dunno. He's always agreed that they should get their land back. I think he's wanting to use his degree to help. Or something. I dunno, it's been a while since we talked. He said he needs to focus more on his studies. I don't know why that means he can't spare an hour a week to talk to me, but whatever."

"Maybe he thinks you're grumpy," Sandor said.

"Rude."

"You are."

"I know," she said. "You're grumpy and rude too, it's why we get on."

Sandor grunted in agreement. If he was with someone more cheerful than him, it wouldn't be a relationship that would last. He would know; he'd had plenty of failed one month long relationships to point to as evidence.

"What've you been up to?"

"Same old rubbish as every other day." He didn't elaborate.

"Charming. You listen to me prattle on for half an hour, and then you have nothing to say in return."

"My life isn't interesting. And I have nothing to complain about."

"I'm sure you'll think of something right before I say goodbye."

"That's how it usually goes," Sandor agreed. It's not as if he tried to do that, but when he couldn't think of anything in the moment, that meant he couldn't share it. And it was usually when Arya had run out of things to say that he thought of it, and it was also when she ran out of things to say that they ended the call. Right as she started to say goodbye was the time that he remembered something to share, pretty much every single time.

"Depending on how much I feel like packing, you might have to save it for tomorrow, after art class."

"Sure." It's not like he cared very much about sharing stories, but Arya insisted. Personally, he thought she just wanted to be distracted by someone other than her own family members.

*

"Jon!" Arya cried happily, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly. "Sodding hell, I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," he said, hugging her back. "I hear a lot happened while I was away?"

"Yep, which you'd know if you ever answered your buggering phone."

"I told you I wasn't talking to anyone at home this term, so I could foc-"

"Better focus on your studies, yeah yeah," she grumbled. "Sandor! Come meet my only good brother."

"I'm her cousin, actually," Jon said. He held out a hand to Sandor with a smile when he walked over. He was better than her brother Robb, if only because he didn't look at Sandor like he was in the way. It was weird that her and her cousin looked more alike than her and her own brother. Or any of her other siblings, for that matter, which he knew because-- despite both his and Arya's wishes-- he'd met them all. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too," Sandor said, which was as diplomatic as he was going to get.

Jon looked back at Arya. "You want to get dinner? Sandor is invited, of course, and we can eat out or stay in-- doesn't matter to me."

"Let's stay in," Arya said. "there's room for three at the table." They'd never had to test it before, since neither Arya nor Sandor entertained guests, but there was space for it.

"Sounds good," Jon replied.

He didn't dislike Jon on sight. It was better than he could say for... pretty much everyone he'd ever met. It boded well for his and Arya's relationship. 

[artificialqueens]

TO THE HILLS; (multiship) → MERROW; chapter one

Adore’s confused, Jinkx’s a mess, Trixie and Katya are blatantly shagging, Alaska’s probably telepathic, Courtney has denounced love, Bianca knows everything, Ivy’s  very pretty and Manila just wants to cry. Throw in magic, curses, circumstances of the most supernatural type and the potential for impending world doom and college just got a lot harder.

“How did your test go?” Alaska asks, leaning forwards to pick up her mug.

Jinkx places her own mug down, shuffling on the sofa. “I bombed it. Not in a good way.”

“Well biochemistry’s a hard subject,” Alaska points out, lifting her tea. “No one’s perfect all the time. Well, except for me.” Alaska’s humour has always been something that Jinkx had loved about the girl. Nodding and pulling her legs up underneath her, Jinkx studied the one who had won the title of a best friend. She and Alaska didn’t used to get on. Back when Jinkx had started college in Carlotta, Alaska had started too. And Alaska had then been best friends with Detox and Roxxxy and all four of them had been in the same performance class and Jinkx had hated it. Rolaskatox were loud and brash and acted like they were invincible and everyone seemed to like them, much to Jinkx’s own chagrin. In the first year of college, Jinkx had been friends with Ivy and that was it. And Rolaskatox had known everyone, and everyone knew the three girls and nobody seemed to care that they were assholes and laughed at Jinkx and regularly treated her, and others, like shit.

Leaving secondary, Jinkx had been determined to remove herself from the weird kid pigeonhole and make her mark on the world, and be admired for it. Be accepted for it. For a while, Rolaskatox had destroyed all chances of acceptance and Jinkx had struggled with it. Never one to simply forgive people, she’d held a grudge.

She didn’t really know why Rolaskatox broke apart but it did and it was months after that when Alaska finally came to Jinkx and apologised. And it was four years after that that Jinkx and Alaska were sat drinking tea together in Alaska’s dorm, past grievances put behind them as they were happy to be close friends to each other.

“You’ve got more exams further down the line right; you can make up the marks?”

“I can,” Jinkx agrees, “theoretically. I just don’t know why I decided to study fucking biochemistry.”

“So you can save the planet,” Alaska replies automatically, grinning at Jinkx. “And then sing about it in the West End.”

“I’m not going to save the world with biochemistry,” Jinkx laughs, “I’m not that good at it. And how the fuck can a biochemist be on West End?”

“Oh shut up,” Alaska shoves Jinkx. “Yee little of faith. You have a fucking good voice and you can fucking act and dance and do all that musical stuff. And you’re also incredibly clever and smart and hardworking and of course you can save the world, and of course you’ll be on West End.”

Jinkx shoves Alaska back and doesn’t respond. It’s nice; it’s so nice to have found such a friend in the blonde girl. And it may be that half the things she said about Jinkx were pure shit – no way was she good enough for West End and sure as hell she wasn’t good at dancing – but it was nice to have somebody who seemed to believe in you. Alaska and Jinkx’s relationship had always been something different and once they became friends – close friends – it showed evermore. Alaska changed her demeanour depending on the circumstance and sometimes Jinkx wished that people who didn’t know Alaska so well could see this soft, gentle version of her that had grown so much over the last few years. Call Jinkx soppy and you’d be right but fuck if she wasn’t proud of her friend.

The two of them remained in silence, drinking their tea. Jinkx is good at talking, she fucking loves to talk and so does Alaska and rarely there’s a dull point between the two of them. But the silence was comforting and so much had been happening the last few weeks and Jinkx just wanted to sit down and dissemble it all and understand it and Alaska, bless her, had noticed that something was on Jinkx’s mind without a word said between them.

Jinkx wishes she could maybe tell Alaska some things about the crazy world she’s a part of, the bit of her that Alaska doesn’t get to see. But Jinkx had learnt to keep her secret close to her chest, to not trust it to anyone who didn’t experience the same world as her. It was alright as a joke – Trixie called Jinkx a ‘swamp witch’ all the time but no one needed to know how close Trixie’s nickname for her was to the truth.

Not that anyone would actually believe her – not that Alaska would believe her. Jinkx would just go back to being the strange, odd freak that Alaska had disdainfully ignored.

Biochemistry was something Jinkx could do and only part of that was because of revision and science textbooks and school. Witchery wasn’t like it was in the movies. Jinkx knew very few people who actually used wands or could transfigure things by saying one word. Most of it was a complex combination of ritual. Spells couldn’t just be said by a witch, they had to be made.  

Jinkx was pretty good at making spells.

Biochemistry, not so much.

Something must have shown on her face because Alaska suddenly leant forwards, giving Jinkx another shove. “You did fine. Stop stressing okay.” Jinkx gives a sheepish smile and Alaska clicks her tongue, in perfect imitation of one Alyssa Edwards. It makes Jinkx laugh and it makes Alaska click once more, before sucking in her cheeks and posing.

“So girl,” She was still imitating Alyssa. “What do you want to do today?”

Jinkx shrugs.

“I’d say we should go out for tea or something but we’re already doing that. I mean, we could go out again but that kind of defeats the point.”

“The weather looks quite nice,” Jinkx offers, “We could go to the park or something? Unless you have work?”

Alaska rolls her eyes. “Oh yes of course after asking what you want to do I’m going to leave you to go and do stupid college work. I have, like, one draft due next week, that’s it.”

“Okay then,” Jinkx straightens, pushing herself up from the sofa. “Have you finished your tea? We’ll tidy up and can head out after?”

“Sounds gooood,” Alaska lengthens the vows, over-enunciating them. “Aw Jinkx, we do such cute things together.”

Jinkx laughs slightly, taking the mug Alaska hands her as well as her own and heading over to the sink. Behind her she can hear Alaska and the slight thud followed by a curse tells Jinkx she dropped something – that something probably her phone.

Alaska’s dorm was not so much a dorm as instead a tiny apartment. It was built around the stairwell which made it into two small parts, a thin rectangle joining them. In the one part was her sofa and desk, and in the other was where she had a sink, several appliances including a mini-fridge and two different toasters and her bed. Her organisation skills were something Jinkx had learnt not to question – although who wanted the microwave and the bed in the same room?

Theoretically, Alaska didn’t need to leave her dorm to get food or anything – which was just as well. Despite having four different dorm blocks, there was only one food court – at the bottom of the West block. This was a good ten minutes from Alaska’s block, the East one. Jinkx didn’t know who decided to call the blocks after compass points, instead of the allocated alphabet letters (A, E, G and J) but whoever did had either accidentally or purposefully labelled them incorrectly. South block was the south most one. The West and North blocks both faced east, the two a stone’s throw away from each other whilst the East block was North-West and the furthest away from the rest of the campus.

The tiny window in Alaska’s bedroom-and-kitchen designated area had a view of the steep woodlands that grew right across Carlotta, stopping scare miles from the college. Washing the mugs out, Jinkx watched. The trees around Carlotta had always fascinated her. Mayhap it was nothing, or maybe it was something that only affected Jinkx’s witchery and not other people, but there was something different about the trees. Not anything scary. Just different.

Ivy would probably know and Jinkx could probably ask her but Jinkx was always rather intimidated to ask the fae-girl something. Ivy’s relationship with the natural world was stronger than most part-fairy’s and there were rumours, so many rumours, about Ivy’s birth right. The girl didn’t like to discuss them, and that was something Jinkx could respect and if asking about the forest would somehow cross the boundaries Ivy had constructed – well Jinkx didn’t want to cross the boundaries.

Ivy had been Jinkx’s first friend in Carlotta and the years she’d been there had only made their bond stronger. There’d been a few months after they’d first met where Jinkx had been convinced she’d had a crush on Ivy. But Jinkx had then been approached by Raven and Manila – the latter who was a soothsayer and who’d seen Jinkx’s arrival to Carlotta. And Jinkx had been surprised, and wary, but joining the coven had been one of the best things she’d done. And also in the coven, there had been Ivy and suddenly everything about her had made sense. Jinkx had been part of their coven a few months when she finally admitted her crush to Ivy. But Ivy had apologised and told Jinkx that it was probably her charm – that sometimes she didn’t check it. And Jinkx had smiled and told Ivy not to worry and that she understood perfectly.

And Jinkx hadn’t told Ivy that she, as a witch, was guarded against most charms and the fae’s certainly came under that.

Over the time that had past Jinkx had dated a little bit, and Ivy dated more, but neither of them spoke about Jinkx’s crush. And perhaps it was for the best.

Everyone knew about Raven and Jujubee – supernatural relationships, especially between those of different species, tended not to end so well.

Manila hated the word species, constantly telling everyone how they were human as well as being something else. But if not species what word could you use?

Sighing slightly, Jinkx rinsed the final mug (hot pink, a picture of Willam Belli on it) and put it onto the draining board. Her sigh must have reminded Alaska of her presence because the tall girl came around the corner almost simultaneously, purposefully flicking her wispy hair into Jinkx’s face.

“For our trip to the park,” she began, “I was wondering if Adore could come?”

Jinkx didn’t know Adore all that well. They lived opposite each other, sure, and had multiple mutual friends but she didn’t really know Adore. Adore was far cooler than Jinkx and probably didn’t want to know her. But Jinkx did know that Trixie had dreamt Adore’s picture on the wall, that she’d messaged their group chat one am two nights ago with to tell them that ‘Adore Delano’s not human. Her painting’s on the wall.’

Jinkx didn’t know how the wall worked, not like Manila did and that was probably why Trixie rang Manila to tell her specifically. Things that were important however, appeared on the wall. It was an accepted fact – the underneath of the motorway bridge holding the same power as a web or mirror or whatever else was used to see the future.

Why Adore’s picture on the wall meant she wasn’t human, Jinkx didn’t know. But she did know that Carlotta held an absurdly large amount of those with supernatural blood, and that people didn’t just turn up in Carlotta.

“Sure Adore can come,” Jinkx smiles and Alaska does so in response, picking up her phone to undoubtedly tell Adore so.

If Jinkx could learn more about Adore, that was good. And if Jinkx could help her transition into this new world – well, that was better. Discovering her own witchery had been so fucking hard, even with her Nana’s help.  

Despite it being about an hour ago that Jinkx and Alaska had decided to go for a walk around the park, the weather had already taken a turn for the worse. Currently Jinkx was walking in between Adore and Alaska – both of them taller than her, and both of them wearing boots. Jinkx was wearing wellies which were turquoise and really cute but unfortunately, doing nothing to add to her height.

“Jinkxy,” Alaska croons, “Jinkxy are you listening?”

“Yes.” Jinkx replies automatically before hesitating. “Well not really but-”

She’s cut off by Alaska’s sigh, the blonde shaking her head. Adore laughs, deep and loud and Jinkx grins a little. Adore had been shooting her tiny looks as they made their way around the park, and whatever she’d discovered last night she must have questions. Or maybe she just hated Jinkx’s wellies.

“Let’s face it Lasky, you’re fucking boring.” Adore shoots Alaska a smirk and Alaska gives another terrible mock gasp.

“I don’t know why I even call you my friends!”

Both Adore and Jinkx laugh and Jinkx is left wondering why the three of them haven’t hung out like this before. But the answer is rather clear – Adore didn’t want to know Jinkx. And now she knows Jinkx is similar to her, she does. Jinkx can’t really fault her but looking at Adore and her ratty boots and layered skirt and bright blue hair it kind of hurts.

Jinkx’s in a blue and white polka dot skirt with a red shirt and a blue beanie that Ivy made her and she certainly doesn’t fit Adore’s aesthetic. And that wasn’t even mentioning the wellies.

The three of them carry on, walking through the very beginning of the woods and the trees around Jinkx seem to grow in front of her. This is something new and looking at Adore it’s obvious she’s seeing something too – and that it’s new for her as well. Magic had a funny way of revealing itself – once it knew you knew of it you begun to notice it more and more, things that you had once ignored or not seen suddenly appearing.

Basically it was a whole new world. A fucking daunting one. And Jinkx didn’t know what Adore was exactly – certainly not a witch, and Adore would have known herself if she was a vampire or anything akin – but there was something about her that the tree’s revelled in.

Adore shoots her a look – her eyes are wide and lips are parted and she belongs there. Alaska carries on, unseeing of everything happening around her and it hurts Jinkx just a little more. But then Adore’s there and she’s grinning so brightly.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Jinkx says softly and Adore’s eyes grow even larger. The leaves seem to be dancing around them, suddenly way too green for early September. The sun’s blocked because of the trees but somehow, underneath them, the light seems even brighter than it did in the park.

“So fucking gorgeous. It’s weird – Ivy said you could see things too but I wasn’t sure, like I only started seeing yesterday-”

“I get you,” Jinkx agrees. “Once you learn of magic – nothing is as you thought it was.”

“I keep thinking I’m asleep or something,” Adore mutters, “or like. I was out with Ganja last night and she had really, really good stuff.”

Jinkx laughs softly, she knows the feeling. “I’ve been watching these trees a lot though – there’s always been something different about them. But I’ve never seen them as they are now.”

“You haven’t?” Adore turns round, looking at the leaves in wonder. “So - is this…me?”

“I’m presuming so,” Jinkx says, watching Alaska in front of them. “I don’t actually know what you are, obviously I wasn’t at the wall with you last night or-”

Adore’s face falls slightly. “I don’t know either. There was a painting – such a fucking beautiful painting of me, all with long green hair and sunflowers and butterflies and shit but like. It didn’t say what I was.”

“And none of the other girls did?”

“Where they meant to? I guess I wasn’t good enough to know,” Adore shrugs, eyes flickering to the ground in front of her.

“Oh no honey!” Jinkx exclaims, “I didn’t mean it like that sorry. Normally people are good at recognising their own – for instance, I would know if you were a witch or Katya would know if you had karzelek blood or something.”

“So I’m something that doesn’t have a name?”

“Oh of course not. It just means that the people you were with last night didn’t know quite what you are. There’s millions of different species of supernatural all over the world though, no one can know them all. And discovering this about you makes you no different than you were before. You’re still you.”

“Now I can just see more?” Adore huffs “that’s incredibly useful.”

“It took me three years to understand my witchery. I’m not saying that it will be the same for you – some people always know what they are, especially those with curses such as a vampire or a werewolf. There are others who have supernatural heritage – fae-blood or Naiad or Selkie. And there are those who’s grow – like witches. We’re born with magic but it’s not like you see in Harry Potter. Witches have to hone their magic, to grow it. For witches, when you discover your heritage it’s called your Rising. Seeing magic awakes it inside of you. There are many other people that have similar such experiences – of all different species or races or whatever you want to call them.”

“I – sorry if I sounded like a brat,” Adore said finally, shuffling her feet. “There’s so much I don’t know, I don’t know half of what’s happening and-”

“It’s okay. When I discovered magic – or actually, it was my nana who introduced me – I was very lost. But that’s why Manila has this coven – it’s easier to be in a group. Coven’s a witch’s words actually; some call it a pack or a pride or whatever.”

“But you’re all different things,” Adore frowned softly, eyebrows creasing. “I’m different too.” “But we’re stronger together,” Jinkx shrugs, smiling at the younger girl. “Look – we better catch up with Alaska. But I’m always around to talk to – we can later if you like, properly?”

“Yes!” Adore smiled at Jinkx in response. “That was a bit loud. But that sounds so good – thank you. The others offered but I don’t know anyone that well – well I mean of course I know Courtney but she didn’t seem that happy I was there, I don’t know if I hurt her but-”

“You didn’t hurt her,” Jinkx is quick to reassure. “I don’t know Courtney that well sorry, but I do know she loves you a heck of a lot. I think she’s more worried about how this world can hurt you, than it being a case of you hurting her.”

“But she just seemed so angry I was there – everyone else was so welcoming and nice and-”

“Secrets can be a lot to carry around. She probably told herself she could never tell you. And now there’s this part of her that she can show you – but she’s spent so long hiding it, she doesn’t know how to show you.”

Adore’s forehead furrowed. “Why couldn’t she have told me before?”

“You weren’t aware of magic at all,” Jinkx says softly, “and those who are not magic have to stay away. Mixing the boundaries of the two has never held good consequences for either. In telling you about magic, before you’re ready, it allows allsorts to enter and play about with your head. Or sometimes more than your head. Not everyone in this world is good – neither in the human nor the magic.”

“So I can’t tell Alaska?” Adore’s face fell as she looked forwards at the tall girl in front of her. Alaska was in the process of taking photos, she’d emerged from the trees and the sunlight shot straight through her white-blonde hair, making it into a halo.

“No. No you can’t.” And then something cold and dark unfurled within Jinkx, pulling itself around her heart and squeezing. “She wouldn’t believe you anyways.”

The last sentence was cruel and Jinkx always tried so hard to not be cruel and the look Adore gave made her feel guilty but there was this part of here that revelled in it, that longed for more of it. Jealousy was a nasty trait that Jinkx always did her best to ignore but sometimes it got the better of her. And sometimes it became more.

And Adore, pretty Adore Delano who was best friends with Alaska and who could make the trees dance only a day after her gained the sight, Adore who everyone loved and who only wanted to get to know Jinkx so she could help herself, Adore made Jinkx jealous.

Witchery was always about a balance. There were so many stories of wicked whites versus white witches but what the stories didn’t tell was that often the two versions were the same witch. If you didn’t hone your magic, if you didn’t tend to it, it could make your magic leave you. And alternatively, those who tried to become the master of their magic, those who pushed it too much and tried to gain too much – the human inside of them would leave.

Witchery was always about a balance and angry emotions – things like jealousy or anger or pride could disturb that balance. Not tending your magic could leave you; but trying to control your magic could make the human in you leave. And it was those stories that scared Jinkx the most.

“That came out harsher than I meant,” Jinks sighs, looking across at Adore. “That was a shitty of me I’m sorry.”

Adore looked up her eyes meeting Jinkx’s own. Adore’s eyes were as green as the forest they were leaving, greener maybe. Had they always been so bright, Jinkx didn’t know. But maybe Jinkx would have to talk to Ivy about the forest – Adore deserved to know herself.

“You can’t tell Alaska either, can you?” Adore asks but it’s not really a question, she knows the answer and so does Jinkx and the two of them look at each other and Adore never vocalises it but Jinkx thinks that perhaps Adore understands.

“I’m terrified of leaving her behind,” and those are words Jinkx hasn’t ever said to anyone, not ever. She doesn’t know what makes her say them now – apart from she does. Adore. “Most of my friends are supernatural, they would understand. But Alaska doesn’t and I can’t tell her.”

“Leave her behind where?” Adore tilts her head, looking at Jinkx before glancing forwards at Alaska, still in front of them. She’s sat herself down in the grass, her phone in her hand frowning to herself. There are only a few metres between her and Adore and Jinkx but the fact that Jinkx and Adore are still under the trees and Alaska isn’t makes it feel like another world. And in many ways, it is.

“Here,” Jinkx twists her lip, biting it. “I have other duties to complete, I’ve got other things to do that are expected of me and I can’t stay as Jinkx Monsoon forever.”

“Do witches have a world?” Adore asks, shaking her head a little. “Fuck I sound weird. I sound like Ganja or something.”

Jinkx smiles but shakes her head. “Not in a literal sense – it’s not like the Fae or merrows and selkies and such. It’s more – you know Harry Potter? And how the Wizarding world exists around the muggle’s one? Oh my god I cannot believe I just compared witches to Harry Potter.”

“Do you call people muggles?” Adore grins

“No, no, no!” Jinkx shakes her head vehemently. “The only realistic thing about Harry Potter is the wizarding world being around the non-wizarding one. But we don’t call it the wizarding world – it’s the seen and the unseen.”

Adore laughs again, loudly, and Alaska turns around to look at them.

“Look,” Jinks says quickly, as Alaska stands and walks over. “We can talk later? You’ve got me on facebook right?”

“I do. Yeah,” Adore paused. “Thank you,”

Jinkx can only grin because Alaska’s there then, telling them how they’re taking ages and that she’s got bored of trying to make them bond and get to know each other and that one person can only spend so much time on Snapchat before it gets boring, and besides she’s using all her data.

Jinkx falls closer to Alaska, watches Adore and Alaska laugh and thinks maybe if she’s friends with Alaska she won’t get jealous. And her magic will stay balanced and she’ll be able to stay in Carlotta with the few people she cares most about.

Jinkx’s been home for a few hours before she remembers she promises to talk to Adore later. The two had spent the rest of their walk with Alaska, before Adore had had a class and all three had headed back. Now, Jinkx was in the dorm she shared with Fame, sat on her bed with several notebooks on her lap and a pile of revision notes just before her knee.

Fame wasn’t in and she’d left Jinkx a sticky note on their whiteboard, informing the redhead that she wouldn’t be coming back at all that night. She’d ended it with several x’s and the post-it note was light pink with little hearts on it and everything about Fame was so carefully chosen it was absurd.

Jinkx got on well enough with Fame; she spent too long answering every ‘hello’ but the girl was helpful and sweet and was tidier than a hotel. Their room was white and Jinkx’s side was covered in star charts and musical posters and blu tack stains that were never going to leave. Fame’s part was tidier, even her white paint looking cleaner than Jinkx’s white paint did. She’d pinned a pinky purple scarf over the ceiling and had gentle strings of fairy lights and all her posters were Italian Vogue or something and it looked like something you’d see on Instagram.

How some people were so organised was a mystery.

Jinkx couldn’t even remember where she put her phone which was a bit of an issue as she’d told Adore that they could talk.

Finally pulling the mobile up from down the side of her bed, it told Jinkx she had thirty-something notifications which was probably Jinkx’s own fault for not using it for the last few days.

She had three emails from change.org and honestly, the witch was certain she’d unsubscribed from their emails months ago. There was a comment on Trixie’s Instagram post from last week, she had ‘streaks’ snapchats from Violet, Alaska, Dela and Milk as well as a photo of Pearl’s nostrils. Sent by Pearl.

She had a message from Dela, asking if she was going to audition for the Hunchback of Notre Dame production that the performance classes were going to put on, and then she had one from Katya who’d wished her well in her biochemistry test, and then one from Fame who’d sent her a screenshot from some website about monsoon warnings.

Finally, saving the best till last, she opened the messages from Ivy;

Did you hear what Trixie said? We haven’t had anyone knew in SO long I am excited!! I don’t really know Adore, what’s she like? X

Okay so Manila wants me to bring Adore tonight – something to do with the nature motives on her painting? Idk, I haven’t seen it yet. Have you?

Jinkxy have you lost your phone or are you really deep in revision?

Okay so I’m off to talk to Adore and try to persuade her to come under the bridge with us lmao wish me luck xox

JINKX! You’re probably asleep right now so I hope you have a good one <3 but we need to talk asap.

Jinkxy? x                                                                  

Jinkx?!?

I hope your test goes well!! Talk to me after?? <3

Did your test go well? I’m sure you did amazingly!!

Jinkxy I hate to be a pain but we really need to talk

It’s about Adore

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Ivy had been trying to get in touch with her for hours.

I’m so sorry darling I lost my phone behind my bed!!

Are you okay?

Ivy replied almost instantly

Jinkxy!! I thought you’d probably lost it x

Yeah I’m fine but can we talk?

Maybe preferably in person I don’t know how to explain.

It’s not about me, like I said. Adore.

Is Adore okay?

Are you free now – we could meet?

Ivy took a little longer to reply, the three dots indicating she was typing before they went away again.

Adore’s fine! Actually I haven’t spoken to her since yesterday but yeah no it’s nothing worrying x

I’m in physics rn, sorry, it’s on for another hour. And I’d say let’s meet afterwards but you’ve got biochem right? X

I can skip?

Nooo! Don’t skip. We’ll talk tonight. I said it’s nothing worrying I just have some ideas I want to run by you. About Adore’s heritage, you know. They’re just theories; I want to talk them through before we tell her or anything

I don’t want to get her hopes up,

That would be terrible. X

It would be, goshsh

Yeah okay if you’re sure you can wait

If anything changes – my phone is now in my pocket.

Have fun with physics x

Jinkx put her phone down on her bed. Stretching, pulled her hair up in a bun before remembering the initial reason she’d been hunting for her phone. Picking it up, she went to message Adore. A message from Ivy displayed itself across the screen of her phone – you have fun with biochem babe xo.

Ivy always gave people pet names; she always signed her texts with kisses. But it still made Jinkx wish that maybe she had meant it in a different way. But a relationship with the fairy-girl was as impossible as anything.

Sighing, Jink messaged Adore – hi! Is there anything you want to talk about – concerning our conversation from earlier, you know? – Before flinging her phone back to her bed. She stayed in that position, face buried into the duvet for who knew how long before she heard the door open.

“Hi Jinkx,” Fame greets and Jinkx muffles a greeting into the orange cover. “Max and I are just here for a bit – that’s okay right?”

Pushing herself up, Jinkx looks at her roommate. Max – or who she was presuming was Max – was grey haired and tall and stood directly behind Fame.

“Yeah that’s fine – I’ve got biochemistry in a minute anyways, I was thinking of going early to sign up for the Notre Dame production.”

“Oh you totally should!” Fame agrees, pulling Max in the room with her and shutting the door behind them. “I’m working on costumes and set design! And Max is really good at singing – we keep trying to get her to audition.”

Max shakes her head but Jinkx smiles at her. “You should audition. The worst they can tell you is no,”

Max smiles hesitantly back at Jinkx but doesn’t say anything, and Jinkx and Fame then exchange goodbyes as they redhead throws her books in her bag and leaves the room.

Jinkx has signed up for the auditions – to the delight of her professor, Michelle – and is sat in Biochemistry with Dela, waiting for their lecturer when she remembers the message she sent to Adore.

Unlocking her phone, she does have a message from the blue haired girl, to say its contents were unexpected was putting things mildly.

Um. Do you know anything about people vomiting up flowers?

That was 5k words that were probably all horrendously out of character for Jinkx, so, I apologise. Things will (maybe) begin picking up pace soon, with all the character becoming more involved and whatnot. If you have any critics, any suggestions for what you want to happen or anything else akin, please do send a message!! I would love to hear whatever you say. Thank you for reading (and that’s for all the love for the prologue), Merrow xo

[imonlymildlyinsane]

"You're bein' stubborn, I told you to fuckin' leave me here. Ain't no sense in both of us windin' up dead." Came the strained voice by your ear, though the conviction in it was not lost; defeated and resolute in your safety only.

It was annoying, really. There was a bullet lodged in your lower leg from enemy fire, some shrapnel had managed to knick you in the side from a couple of explosions and you were certain that there was a hunger headache looming your skull; thank the Sun for adrenaline blocking serious pain. All of that, and you were trying to save his sorry ass, but he couldn't even have the good grace to save his self-depreciation for later.

Honestly, Jesse needed to work on his manners; southerners know it's rude to refuse a service, especially one important as this.

While the both of you were clear of the danger zone, the frigid winter of Switzerland was nothing to take lightly. While they still had daylight on their side, the loss of blood on both their parts—coupled with being in the wilderness—left them very vulnerable to a plethora of situations. The last signal of location you received from Hana had been thirty minutes ago, which still gave the both of you a good chance of making it out with almost everything still in tact.

Jesse, of course, had been more focused on you getting out alive, rather than surviving.

Unfortunately, coming across Widowmaker in the crosshairs of an attack was probably one of the worst things that could have happened. They were on her playing field—being so unaffected by cold—but that was also why you had been brought on this mission. Picking off Talon operatives between the two of you was fairly easy, but dodging the perfect assassin was a whole other ballgame.

What started as a diversion shot to a gas tank to clear a way for the both of you had ended badly. The explosion had been a lot bigger than McCree predicted, with the cowboy being knocked clean out about fifty feet away from flying debris. It was a calculated shot, sure, but even those can go off the rails, and he sure as hell was going to chew himself out about it at a later date. You had immediately began dragging him away from the main scene, but when Widowmaker had shown up, you had to make a hasty decision of your own. The flames wouldn't last long in the cold atmosphere, but it still wouldn't make her falter from landing a clean shot.

Fight or Flight; a cliché classic.

You really hated to run, but with being broke off from the rest of your team, a partner unconscious and Talon forces closing in with a head assassin leading them, you had no choice. Picking the man up on one shoulder, you grit your teeth against the pain and immediately burst into a sprint; the omnium core settled in your chest pushing an overflow of adrenaline through your body. While your injuries wouldn't heal any faster, it would carry your body as far as your emotional response would carry it.

This meant you had to keep to a constant state of distress for your core to keep pushing past your limits. Mental and Physical exhaustion, and you were perpetually tired as it was.

The heavy scent of mingling blood was beginning to effect your senses, but underneath the metallic scent, you could smell an encroaching danger; tickling at the back of your neck. You risked a look over your shoulder and was met with scratching heat of a bullet scratching across your cheek, clean through one of your braids. Like clockwork, your body was flooding with adrenaline once more, and you were running with energy renewed.

The communicator at your side, thankfully, buzzed to life with the broken tone of your best friend. "W— ov— the ne—t hill!! —eep goi—!!"

Elation could not come close to how you felt, but death still loomed over your shoulder as you began up the high hill; legs shaking with the added weight and strain from injuries. However, the core in your thoracic cavity was humming with resolution as your pushed on, hands clutched tightly around Jesse's limp body, having passed out from the blood loss once more. It didn't matter, as you could still feel the slowed thump of his heart against your back, even through your body suit, and it only gave you more hope that this would not be the end. It wouldn't be—push, keep moving, do not stop. Stopping meant death. You would die on your own fucking terms, even if it meant flipping a big middle finger in the Reaper's face, and you sure as hell weren't about to lose this idiot of a man either.

The footfalls of oncoming enemies was growing closer, but you never had a chance to turn and defend yourself. Before you could reach over the hill, the sound of machine fire filled the air, D.Va's mech heavily battered, but still functioning. You grinned woflishly and ducked past her to get to the transport, Lucio at her side holding them off until you boarded safely.

Through the air, you heard Tracer's voice instructing them to get in, the strain in her own voice seeming secondary to her typical melodic tone. Once inside, the hatch closing as the rest of the team boarded, your legs immediately gave out and sent you onto the ground; pain vibrating through your bones. The world seemed a blur as the wight of Jesse was removed—probably by one of the healer's to tend to him—while your best friend carefully lifted you up. The buzz of your omnic core began to reside and decrease the chemical flowing through you, leaving every wound, tear of muscle and fracture throbbing anew with pain.

It was well worth it.

—————

It was decided that the debriefing be done without your presence, as the state of your injuries were far more worse than initially thought. The doctor had been in and out while assessing you, and you could have sworn that you felt the calming energy of Zenyatta more than once, but sleep was all you could manage during this time. Whether it had been hours or days was unbeknownst to you, but there was this lingering pain in your left leg that you couldn't place. You would try to flex it when slight wakefulness came, but would soon slip back under.

Whatever it was could be addressed later.

In the midst of being unconscious, you were fairly sure that you were in a coma; medicated, if the strange taste of chemicals lingered in your mouth. Certain voices you could zone in on, while some were deemed unimportant. Your physical state was something you would rather confront when you were fully awake, but it was fun to eavesdrop here and there. However, when the steps of heavy boots came, follows by a shutting of the door, you were sure you knew who it was.

A sigh filled the air, followed by a soft curse.

"Darlin', I...I told you to leave my ass there. This wouldn't have happened if you would've just listened to me...Can't complain though. That stubborn attitude is one reason I love you so much."

There was flutter in your stomach; panic and joy mingling together.

Steps came forward before stopping short of your bed, a big, warm hand gently cupping your cheek. "You took a risk savin' my hide, goodness knows I'm grateful, but you...shit, you deserve better than this. Better than me, definitely...I'm cheatin' you right now by sayin' all this while you're outta commission. Should hear this face to face...It's not so bad, though the damn prosthetics do come with one con. It's like you can still feel the pain, even if the damn thing ain't there anymore."

You tried to flex your left leg. There was tension at your knee cap, but anything below was oddly missing. So, that's what it was. Huh.

"If you can hear me...I'm so sorry for this. Guess it'll just be another sin to pay for. Heh, I guess I just keep rackin' 'em up." The warm, syrupy tone was still there, but tainted with sadness. His fingers were calloused and comforting against your cheek, enough so that you found yourself mentally leaning into it; like you had done so many times before. However, the gasp that came from Jesse made you think that it may have actually happened, as the coolness of his other hand contrasted the flesh one as he cupped your other cheek.

"Sweetheart, d-did you actually hear all that? I mean, sure, I'd be embarrassed, but I promise I'll be just as happy."

You chuckled, though it was a throaty sound in actuality.

He laughed wholeheartedly and leaned down to press a kiss to your cool forehead; sighing deeply in his chest. Through the sterile scent of the room, he could still smell the coconut and tea tree oil that lingered on your skin, and he never thought that such a smell could bring him that much comfort. In the midst of it all, you managed to will a hand through the medicated haze; clutching onto the serape of his, though it was weak. Nonetheless, he was elated and took hold of your hand, kissing the top of it.

"You're somethin' else, you know that? I doubt anythin' really could stop you...God, I love you."

In response, the omnic core thrummed lightly and released a flurry of endorphins through your body; euphoria washing down in warm, gentle waves. You managed a gentle squeeze around his hand, lips lifted slightly in a smile. It wasn't much, but he took it for what it was.

[canaryatlaw]

(I wrote this on my phone so it made me so paragraphs that I split up randomly)

Well, today went not exactly as planned. I woke up at 8:45 and got ready for court like every day, two very simple cases that only took a few minutes once we got there, but apparently there was like, 112 people trying to get into the courtroom so it was a little bit crazy. They normally go down for lunch at like 12-12:15 pm for lunch and I was sitting there at like 12:40 not hearing from anybody so I go to chat with the coordinator and she was like yeah they’re still up and then just dumped me into the courtroom with like half a dozen other attorneys and some parties, the first case I was on was confusing AF because I had to be there to ask if we could withdraw from the case (because it’s going to divorce court, they’ll generally combine them with OP petitions so they’re all in front of the same judge; but that also means we can’t represent them) and there was like, another like 3 attorneys on the case so sitting things out was a lot haha but we managed and I got our leave to withdraw, then my second case took like 30 seconds because it was all very standard so that’s good.

Once I was done I like had some lunch and chilled for a while and then went out to grab a few things, and this is where my downfall began. The plan was get quarters from the bank and then grocery store to get toilet paper and paper towels. But the bank that’s right there doesn’t have any unless you’re a member and even then they’re limited to $10 so things are definitely strained. So I walked up the road to the other bank, and then had to stand in line for quarters that was like out the back door of the bank in the sun....so that wasn’t great but I managed and finally got $10 worth of quarters as that was their limit as well. From there I was gonna go walk back to the grocery store, but while walking my terrible shaky legs started acting up so I was like pausing and trying to rest every so often and I was like fuck this is bad I should just go home, so I walk down towards my apartment and I was like okay I’m good to go I got this and I made it *almost* all the way across the street before then faceplanting onto the road (luckily I got my hands up there fast enough so I didn’t hit my actual face). Like 3 people stopped to help me get up and like my legs were still shaking and the guy who’s in the car we’re in front of us like fucking beeping at us like what the actual fuck is wrong with you dude, so I managed to get up and off the road. The one guy who helped left at that point, but the two girls who helped, both like mid-20’s ish helped me the rest of the way there and like totally saved my ass and I managed to fall two more times until one of them just grabbed their car and drove us literally around the block to where my apartment is that I couldn’t fucking walk without falling and like got me all the way back to my building’s door and then gave me their numbers in case I needed anything else and like !!! This 100% why I go out of my way to help people with anything all the time, because I’m paying it forward from the amazing people who have helped me when I needed it so badly. I was seriously like ready to cry by the time I got home. I managed to scoot up the stairs and info my apartment, at that point my legs were a bit more stabilized so I could at least like walk around my apartment.

First thing I did of course was find my doctor’s phone number and called, they said she was in with a patient but could call me back so I said sure, a little while later I got a call that was one of the medical assistants and wanted to know a little bit about what I was calling about to give the dr a message, so I described things briefly and she was like yeah let me put you on hold for a minute and when she came back she was like yeah the doctor says you should go to the ER like, immediately because it could mean a lot of different things that could be bad. I basically expected this to happen at this point, though I really didn’t want to. So I grabbed a few things like my laptop and pill box and put them in a bag because who tf knows what’s going on here. I manage to make it down the stairs and to the curb, then called an Uber from there so I wasn’t like rushing down the stairs and accidentally die. Uber wasn’t working right and matched me to someone in like Joliet, Illinois who would be there in 72 minutes?? So I was trying to cancel it of course but when I hit give me another Uber it would just be like nope can’t do it so I was like okay fuck this I’ll get a Lyft, and then while I’m doing that the driver from the Uber calls me and is like “can you cancel it I can’t do it from here??” so I went back and just cancelled the ride, idk if they charged me anything for it I’ll check at some point and if they did I’ll send a complaint or whatever telling them what happened, I think something similar happened to me before and they fixed it later so it should work, and I mean it’s only a couple of bucks anyway so not really a big deal. Lyft driver got me to the ER, same entrance as last time, and I made it inside and to the chair where they like took your vitals and stuff, so they do that and I give them my ID and insurance card, and a few minutes later they moved me to a room where I chilled for a bit and then saw like nurses and doctors and such and they were like well it’s probably the thing from last time except that no longer makes any sense, because we determined last time that what I had wasn’t this one side effect from the meds and this is something different that isn’t a side effect of that med?? lol, so they gave me some meds and I tried to walk around for a bit and my legs started shaking a little, they were considering sending me home with a walker but I’m like I don’t have a car to carry things and live on the second floor.....and then at that point I started telling the nurse about the potential secondary symptoms I’ve been experiencing, which is like my vision getting blurry very quickly which has just got massively bad over just a few days, and my ears were ringing and I was having little like dizzy spells with black spots in my vision, and then there’s this weird thing that’s been going on for like a month I think where I can type words and such just fine, like I know how to spell them but if I like hit the wrong key or something and then have to go back and fix it like, all my knowledge of spelling the word is just like gone from my mind, the letters are just like not working right and I have to like type it as best as I can (which is always wrong) and hope it triggers the suggested hey you spelled this wrong did you mean this word thing?

It’s like, really weird and I don’t know what tf is happening with it but I didn’t really think anything about it until like today when I was kinda putting this all together. I like, hadn’t told them at first and kinda hoped they’d like ask or figure it out because I didn’t want to sound like a hypochondriac having like a conspiracy about oh it might be this crazy thing?? But yeah, I told them and the nurse was like yeah I’ll go talk to the doctor and then came back and said they was going to admit me, monitor overnight and I guess do some tests in the morning, I know at least a neurologist is coming which is good because at this point it only makes sense to me that it’d be somewhat of a brain thing because legit nothing else makes sense. But I guess we’ll see. I waited in the ER room for a bit while they worked out getting a room and everything and then moved me up here. It’s a single room, has a pull curtain from the front door so I guess there’s some sense of privacy as I’m sure the door is always going to be open for obvious purposes I guess. There’s a bathroom across from the bed that had a toilet and a shower. They have me on like fall precautions now, which does make sense but is also annoying because they want me to like, call them to help me get like the three feet between the bed and the bathroom which is like liability 101 so I get it but like, it really only happens to me after I’ve gone like some distance, never right away and not for those short distances, and my body is shitty and uncooperative and is going to give me a hell of a time trying to pee with the pressure of knowing they’re outside the door waiting for me because it likes to be super obnoxious like that. And I like tried to go by myself at first but then body was like no and then there nurse was in the room and I’m like okay I clearly need to actually call them here and not just sneak around, and they have me attached to an IV now anyway so I couldn’t get there without assistance now.

So I’ve just been trying to like, wait as long as possible so I’ll have to pee more and it’ll be easier, and this was a way too involved conversation about peeing so I think I’ll stop that here. But yeah, I got up here and turned the tv on to the food network, I’d normally try to read like fanfic or something but my eyes are being shitty right now and I don’t think that would work well, so I’m just doing that and started typing this because I knew it would take a while to write out. They brought me a cheese sandwich for dinner, which was enough at least that I could make myself eat it, it really wasn’t enjoyable but I clearly need to eat something and don’t really have any other options. The cheese is fine ofc I just really hate sandwich bread and really hate whole wheat bread even more, so a slice of cheese between two slices of whole wheat sandwich bread (and with a piece of lettuce shoved in there) is not going to be something I’m really gonna like. If this were like another situation where I didn’t need to eat it I’d have just pulled the cheese out and eaten that lol. So I finished eating that and then continued to type this out until I am now here. It’s almost 1 am so I clearly need to go to bed, I did take my meds from my pill box which I don’t think technically I’m supposed to do while at the hospital but like I’m just going to take my damn meds or I won’t be able to go to sleep and I really don’t trust whatever tf it is that they might come up with. And I took them right after finishing the sandwich but I’m definitely getting tired and I don’t really have anything else to do or write about now, so I guess I’ll end this here and then attempt to go to the bathroom and go to bed, so yeah. Goodnight my loves. Happy weekend/please stay safe and healthy please.

[anothergirlrecovering]

Lynn 104

Honestly this kind of just felt like another wasted session. We basically just talked about like directions for treatment and she has reminded me so many times now that maybe EMD our isn’t the best thing for me and if we can’t make progress with it then it’s OK to try something different which would mean seeing a different therapist and I think that’s why she always tried so lightly around saying it but I know what she’s indicating. She asked about my initial target memory and I said that it just feels like I want still but that the feeling of I only matter if I’m sick Still really bothers me and I explained how even with saying that I Titian there’s like that anxiety there of feeling like I’m supposed to be sick which makes it harder to get better and I’m not saying that that means I am trying to get worse or anything but it creates an added layer of anxiety because it feels like I shouldn’t be getting better. She asked how the dietitian when I said I saw her this morning and I had cried. She asked what happened and I explained how she had weighed me and we set goals for the week that we’re a little bit more explicit them last time and she gave me a worksheet about my values to do and she wants me to set healthy boundaries with my parents because they fit into my anxiety about food and I explained how I think initially it did start off by unintentionally missing breakfast and lunch with that eventually like this last week when I tried to add things and I realized I had a lot more anxiety doing it. She told me about some Brene brown Interview she had watched which was about self-care and how important it is to take care of yourself and I had apologize for our last session and for being argumentative and defensive and it wasn’t my intention to come across as rude and she said it was OK and I asked her if she was still mad at me and she was confused and I was like because of last session and she was like no And I was like well then was there something else that you were mad about because you looked confused and she was like no I was confused because I wasn’t mad. She asked me about what I did with those feelings after session and I explained how all the next day I really examined how my affecting my clients and explained how like I really don’t think that I’m doing them harm and that I was really angry at myself for not communicating well with Lynn because I think it was taken in a different kind of way then I had meant it and I explained how I don’t feel overwhelmed by my clients but I felt overwhelmed by my caseload in the fact that I was full and couldn’t take on more clients but had a lot of people asking to be seen. She said she understood. She asked about where I felt stuck and I was like honestly just kind of depends on the day I don’t know really sure and then Lynn one on this tangent about perfectionism and how that’s the block that we keep hitting and how she thinks self deprecation is sort of a secondary game for me at this point because it reinforces my attempts to be perfect and how We have to address that and then she asked me if Sony had ever brought that up and I was like no I mean she was pretty rigid about sticking to the protocol and didn’t really talk about anything outside of the phobia other than that one session that she lectured me about moving and then asked me to bring in a sheet of paper where I had written down everything about moving because I had said I was considering moving after I was licensed. At one point when Lynn started lecturing me again about taking care of myself and how important that is in our field I started smiling and she was like what are you smiling about and I was like it’s just funny to me because you and Peggy have such opposite approach is and she was like what do you mean and I was like she’s just so nice and compassionate and I was like and it’s not that you’re not nice but you’re just a lot more harsh and she was like well is this a good fit for you and I was like obviously I like you and she was like well but it’s a good therapeutic conversation to have because is this a good fit for what you are needing and I was like I mean I think it honestly just depends on the issue because there are sometimes when that is really helpful like the fact that you were the first therapist to ever even tell me that my mom was never going to change And that I basically need to work on getting over that but want to comes to food related stuff I think that idea better from a more compassionate approach because when it comes to more of like fear tactics I think I just get anxious and defensive and then I’m not really hearing what you’re saying even though you aren’t wrong but I’m not really even listening anymore because I’m just defensive and frustrated and don’t want to ever talk about it with you again basically and she was like well it’s my job to bring it up again and I was like yeah but it just makes me not want to really discuss what’s going on and not that I would lie to you but I think I would just not really say anything about it. She had me fill out a release of information for the dietitian and she asked about If the perfectionism was gone how would that affect how I eat what I be able to eat anything whenever I wanted and I was like honestly I’m not really sure because it’s not so much like this self deprecating thing for me to not eat as much as it is that at this point in life I just get so much anxiety about right and wrong which is been heavily influenced by my parents and ultimately I would rather eat nothing then eat something that’s “bad “God for bid I have GMO’s and then I’m worried that I’m going to get Glyphostate related issues and pass on autism to my child and so it’s a lot of anxiety about right and wrong and rigidity which she seem to think was still a form of perfectionism which is fine. I realize I was rambling one point because she was asking about where I feel stuck and envisioning my life without self deprecation and what not and I was just going on anon about 1 million different tangents and I was like I’m sorry I know that I’m rambling at this point I don’t even know if I’m making sense and she was like yeah you are. She asked about what it would take for me to really believe that I matter and I was like honestly I’m not sure but like it really feels like and maybe this is super irrational but if my mom were to call and just tell me that I mattered if feels like it would fix everything because it’s like I look back at all of those memories and it’s like how do you just leave your kid to have panic attacks by themselves and how do you let your kid knowingly go to bed starving and under weight and how do you let your kid beg the other kids at the lunch table for their leftovers because they’re being starved at home like if your kid matters to you then why wouldn’t you at least say sorry for those things are acknowledge that it wasn’t right and that they do you matter or something and when was like I agree and she brought up how if I was my childhood therapist that we would’ve called DCS and they would’ve had to make changes whether it be bringing me in for therapy your family therapy we’re having to let me eat normal foods and she said she calls but I went through abuse because they were starving me and I just didn’t really say anything and she pointed out how different my life would be if I actually liked myself and how I need to have fun and I told you that I bought tap shoes which my husband isn’t thrilled about and I said I’m just really bad at having fun and she was like well you’re learning. She also asked about my blogging again and I was like what the heck so I literally took out tumblr and was like look I will show you so I showed her the dashboard and then I showed her my own page and was like you can re-blog things that stick with you or you can write your own stuff and she basically had been thinking that I was writing after my sessions all the negative things that I felt about myself and I was like Lynn this literally isn’t a blogger I just write about how fucked up i am and how much I hate myself. I was like I just write about how our sessions go and insights that I have and I might mention some of the struggles i’m having because it’s helpful to look back and see the progress that I have made in the areas that used to be hard but aren’t anymore and it’s just nice to be able to look back and see the progress that is me because otherwise it’s so easy to forget and I was like it’s not like I’m literally looking back on them all the time because after it’s done on the car ride home I don’t look back at it and it’s not just a bitch fest about myself being a terrible person and she brought up that we are from a generation difference and how she just doesn’t know how these things work and she sees a lot of danger journaling is a lot of times people just go on and on about their negative thoughts about them self and I was like it’s honestly not like that but during the week I might notice something upsetting or something might come up and I usually blog a few sentences about it and then before our session I scroll through and see what I had written to see if there was anything important that I needed to talk about or process for when you ask how my week was and I was like Lynn your name isn’t even mentioned in the blog and neither is mine and neither is our location and she was like no I’m not worried about that it’s just new to me because I didn’t know how all this works and I was like that’s fine and she was like OK but I feel a lot better knowing that you aren’t just blogging all of these terrible things about yourself all the time and I was like you know it’s not that at all. It’s honestly hard to recall these sessions when they’re like this because everything is scattered and all over the place and there isn’t a specific thing that we are addressing but it is what it is the session was fine. Nothing particularly great or bad. Also when she was having me fill out the release of information it was funny because she wrote down requested by client and I laughed and was like requested by client I see and she was like I mean I can change it and I was like it’s fine I just think it’s funny because I didn’t request it but I was like honestly I’m still laughing about that hippa vio from last week and she was like what are you talking about and I was like remember when you double booked your clients and then you told the girl in the waiting room where I had driven from and she laughed and was like whatever it worked and then we actually did have some conversation around Violations and how her friend apparently works for auditing and prosecution with all of that and I case they were working on was where a therapist apparently maliciously told the hospital about her client having an abortion because she was mad at her and it’s usually more of those things along the lines of malicious intent which I think makes sense and I was like I mean honestly there are some that are going to be impossible to prevent and she was like yeah and I was like I mean anytime that I’m with somebody in public and I see a client I’m essentially giving away how they know me because with my husband he knows everybody that I know so it’s like if I’m not explaining why I know them then he obviously knows that they are clients. I also asked her at the end about being audited and she said that she had been audited by insurance and that they don’t ask for your like written part about the sessions and that since it’s just like the standard note or whatever it’s pretty easy and it’s pretty subjective so there is an a lot of things they can say you owe money for. I said that made sense and she said how she thinks the actual written part in the note can only be accessed if a judge is subpoenaing it which I’m pretty certain it’s accurate. Also we talked a little bit about how I feel like I don’t matter and how that influences everything that I do because I don’t matter then I don’t matter enough to take care of which includes is why I worked myself to death and wine not always nursing myself and caring about doing things that I want to be doing because I simply just don’t really matter and I told her about how Peggy had asked about my goals last time and how she pointed out that my motivation for covering not a single one of them had anything to do with me and I was like I can recover from my husband or my job or my dog but the thought of doing anything for me just feels a relevant because it feels like I don’t matter.

[wellplacedrocket]

Second Half GIFvalanche: So That Happened

I honestly don’t remember much of the halftime show. I think that’s when I got up to go to the bathroom, refill my water, and pace nervously, awaiting my fate. I know Justin Timberlake played, and there was a Prince element involved as a nod to Minneapolis. If only the Vikings would have been in the game, I’m sure this would have been the Culmination of Being for many of their fans. Sorry, Minneapolis, I had no time for your (our) cultural moment in the national spotlight that night.

The Patriots started the following drive and it sure looked like during halftime they clicked everything into place and solved the Eagles’ defense. And the solution was to Gronk them to death. Hell, the first attempt was a rare miss on a pop route but it was horrifyingly open.

No matter, the next one was a leisurely 15 yard out to him in a very comfortable hole in the Eagles’ zones.

Then another pop for 20 yards, same route as the one they’d missed two plays ago, except the defender was in much better position - but fell over. Then another portent - Brady gets pretty decent protection, but with no one open quickly, he wisely chucks it out of bounds, making all the Eagles fans wish he’d hung onto for literally a quarter-second longer.

Just for funsies, the Patriots then sent Gronkowski wide left from where he easily, almost casually pick up the 3rd and 6, and a couple plays later had him basically box out Ronald Darby (who slipped) for a 5 yard TD.

Slipping and losing your footing is a tough break, so I’m not gonna yell at him. But Jesus H. Christ. But most of the drive just looked so, so easy, like why hadn’t they just been forcing it at Gronk the whole time? Looking at the scoreboard now, all the Eagles’ unlikely heroics in the first half and they were still only up three. My sphincter clenched.

The next sequence is emblematic of Nelson Agholor’s career. I always defend receivers against the slings and arrows of fans who spit angrily at drops, because man...this shit is just way harder than it looks. But he’s still gotta make this catch. And so Agholor, much maligned as a bust last year…

...manages one of the greatest career turnarounds I’ve ever seen a skill position player make, improving his catching ability, but as an added bonus and unexpected twist, he somehow also turned into an outstanding yards-after-catch threat.

Way to go, Agholor.

It’s easy, particularly in football, to get nauseating with fawning cliches about how much of a team game it is, and how credit is due everywhere, but every position group really did have their moment here. The Eagles kept their drive going with blocking that was merely serviceable, but just outstanding rush talent from Blount…

...and Ajayi.

Then I gotta highlight great TE action, because this is a textbook block-to-pop by Ertz, starting from the right wing.

Having expected the Eagles to deflate and lay down softly as soon as the Patriots reasserted themselves in the game, this drive was blowing my mind in all the best ways.

Now I want to contrast a couple plays’ worth of QB action. This first one shows Foles doing something that has always made me squirm and scream in my brain. He’ll look super indecisive with where he wants to go and double clutch on throws. Football is so fast, that if you double clutch even for a half second, your window is probably shut. He hadn’t done this all game and it’s not a good look here…

...although good on him for just chucking it away. Now look at this one, where he’s back to Nick Foles: Unstoppable Football Howitzer.

This wound up being the first of two reviews that made me want to snap my own neck. Much has been made about the review system in sports - particularly football - with many calling for it to be abolished for how it kills the action, and sends everyone down a labyrinth of byzantine rule-parsing. I say technology has made it impossible for sports viewers to tolerate human error that goes against their interests. In earlier days of sports on TV, there weren’t a bajillion camera angles with high-def picture in ultra slow motion that could instantly analyze the action. That genie is out of the bottle now - you think anyone would just let it go when an obviously blown call, revealed by the most advanced video technology in the world, goes against them? Sports would devolve into nothing but judgement about officials’ human imperfections and conspiracy theories, even moreso than it is now.

Still, the emotional limbo that a video review puts you in is excruciating. Do I lose my shit?! Do I lose my shit in a bad way?! Is third RB Corey Clement a god damn hero? Is he an unforgivable putz/traitor?!?!

It was a hell of a run, throw, and catch, another case of the entire roster showing up for their moment. And I was surprised they let it stand. I don’t know that I have ever heard the argument that a ball carrier can be considered to have “control” of the ball if it’s moving around in his grasp, even though it makes intuitive sense. Ball movement is just the visual fulcrum point on which judgement of control sits, for lack of a better one. But the refs, in a rare instance of this, went with the intuitive judgement rather than the driest rule interpretation. And if this had been the Patriots scoring a TD like this, I’m sure I would still be hulked out, speaking in tongues of rage, and fighting gladiator matches on planet Sakaar.

Eagles fans immediately burned effigies of Chris Collinsworth and Al Michaels for being so confident this play would be overturned - I’m a little more forgiving. I would later read about their awful PRO-PATRIOTS BIAS as they continued to harp on how it was called...I was too stressed out to notice much of what they were saying at the time, but I suppose it was a little more airtime than commentators usually give to matters of dubious officiating.

The Eagles defense now had a 10 point lead to protect again, and while their D line depth seemed to be paying dividends by limiting the Patriots to short runs, their pass defense once again struggled. A defensive holding call coughed up a first down (it looked like it was reeeeeaaaaaaally upsold by Gronkowski), and then Brady again just barely beats the rush to get it to Hogan, working against pillow soft coverage once again. You could make a plush bathrobe out of this coverage.

Hogan might have pushed off, at least Darby thinks so. But he might not have even needed to.

Check out this tackle by Malcolm Jenkins, it’s hard to see where the hell he even comes from here. Somewhere, Brian Dawkins sheds a proud tear.

I dunno, I probably shouldn’t be getting super pissed about the soft coverage, because even when they press it, it’s burned.

Tom Brady has a very comfortable pocket there. That one is on the rush as much as the secondary. Jesus, what a collapse of one of the strengths of the team, but you also have to tip your hat to the Patriots O-line, they were a wall.

It would have been nice if the Eagles Defense didn’t just lay down softly in this game, you know? But here’s where I was hating myself for ever thinking that maybe the Eagles could pull this shit off. I should be more detachedly cynical than that by now. For all the eye-popping limit-breaks that the offense had made happen, there the Patriots were, and their highlights just looked easier.

There was no telling when the universe would catch wise to Nick Foles and the Eagles offense’s historic success and move to correct the error, but those guys looked like they gave zero fucks:

Holy shit.

HOLY SHIT.

What is going on?!

Then it was the fourth quarter, where hopes go to get snuffed out.

The drive would ultimately stall in the red zone thanks to a nice open field play made by the Patriots’ defense, but I wanted to call attention to the play design here. The Eagles had already hit on an Agholor end-around, and they used that motion again…

...but had him stop and go back the other way. It’s interesting, but I would have preferred if they were going to use the end-around as a decoy to decoy all the way - fake to Agholor and have the RB pop out to Foles’s right. As it happened, the Patriots’ OLB didn’t even rush the pass, and Lane Johnson didn’t have anyone to block. His defender just went with Agholor and was on him right away.

Nice job by Jake Elliott to boot the FG through, but I couldn’t help but notice in a game wherein a touchdown almost always gets 7 points, the Eagles were now only up 6.

And the defense wasn’t inspiring much confidence.

I mean, that’s right into the teeth of what the Eagles defense is supposed to be great at. Mighty Fletcher Cox gets into the backfield, but on the wrong side of the play. Vinny Curry might have been doing a stunt here, but he gets turned aside, and then the Patriots’ O-line does a good job of getting second level.

I actually didn’t mind the blitz here. Usually blitzing against Tom Brady is suicide, but it’s not like anything else was working, and the D-line just wasn’t getting it done. The results were pretty predictable, but Defensive Coordinator Jim Schwartz had to have been tearing his hair out like “FUCK IT! SEND ‘EM ALL!”

When two guys in pass coverage end up in the same space, someone has screwed the pooch. I mean, this looks just beautifully textbook, like it’s during practice for the Patriots. I know exactly how this game ends, and this drive still fills me with dread.

I can’t actually blame the defense too much on that play. Darby’s position wasn’t bad, it was just a difficult throw and a very difficult catch in a perfect spot. But everything leading up to that play made me regret the part of my brain that allowed me to believe the Eagles could win the Super Bowl. I felt so stupid to having opened that emotional door. Grass grows, birds fly, sun shines, the Scout hurts people, and brother, the Eagles lose in the postseason. Like a force of nature. Of course the Eagles defense would shit the bed this game. It was so obvious. Of course the offense would spend all game lighting it up, and would now come crashing back down to earthbound reality. Of course this would be a record setting game in NFL history for total yards of offense that the Eagles would lose in the 4th quarter.

I flashed forward to the L I’d be chewing on for the rest of my life over this. The immediate sympathy from some friends and coworkers over how close the Eagles were, and the schadenfreude from others. How it would sting when I had to next see people. How years down the line, the pain would be reduced down to a duller ache as I recalled the time the Eagles almost...almost...

It would be internalized and just part of my existence. I would wonder at times what ripple effects it ultimately had on my psyche.

Tom Brady makes fourth quarter comebacks in the Super Bowl like people make eggs for breakfast. The Eagles don’t. Haves and have nots, a tale as old as life.

Ah, yes. This was what I expected. Foles and the offense had been on fire, and now it would cost them as they tried to force increasingly ludicrous miracles.

Hm, a 3rd and 6 converted, down 1 with under 9 minutes to go in the Super Bowl. That’s actually...pretty...clutch?

Another 3rd down…

...and that is a great job on defense. It was actually a pretty good play call, the Patriots blitzed the middle and Foles barely gets it away to the outside. The Patriots blitzed right into a screen, which often burn blitzes, but S Devin McCourty gets around Vaitai, who was after him, and flows out to chase down the play.

It would make for a better story if I said I was surprised they didn’t punt here. But I’d watched the Eagles all season, and going for it on 4th and 1 from their own 45, down 1 with 5:45 left fit their personality. It just seemed like everything was setting up for them to fall on their faces and the Patriots to get the ball back, and burn a few minutes of the clock on their way to another game-sealing “Tom Terrific” touchdown.

The fact that they clutched it out, in the biggest moment of the franchise’s history, demonstrated there was something different going on here. I was in uncharted waters. Looking at that play, it’s a pretty classic pick (a quasi-legal technique executed to perfection by Celek) that is overlooked only because it’s so close to the line of scrimmage. Hell of a backfield dodge under pressure by Foles and a great throw made off his back foot - a posture he has long taken heat for throwing out of too much.

Wha…

How...

What is this?! What is going on here?! You got Foles making Aaron Rodgers throws out here, and Eagles receivers catching them. For all the marbles. EVERY MARBLE. The Eagles do not rise to the occasion! THE EAGLES SHIT THEIR BEDS.

You can argue this was the play of the game, because it got them into reasonable FG range. Vaitai gets beat, but pushes the edge rusher just enough to give Foles the time to get it away. And Foles isn’t taking Ertz in the flat, who is wide open. No, Nick Foles is now Big Dick Nick: Gunslinger and he fires it in a tight window to the slant.

Foles and Agholor have the hot read going on the corner blitz. This is probably just a bad idea by Patriots’ D-coordinator, Matt Patricia. Agholor, a first round pick in 2015, had, after two underwhelming seasons marred by drops, a breakout season and had shown himself to be excellent running with the ball. You don’t want to be putting him in a situation to get the ball quickly with lots of space by drawing away his defender. But maybe the Patriots felt like they had to get weird.

They did a trap block with the LT Vaitai here, and it’s nice to see that in this game, given the context, and despite his previous struggles, they weren’t treating him like a liability with the playcalling. They were featuring him with this call. It’s also very nice to get able to get a few yards and the cloud of dust.

Oh, man. This play.

First of all, I want to snark at McCourty, the S who’s on Ertz 1-on-1 at the top of the screen, but I can’t. It’s a very tough spot he’s put in. This is TE territory, and TEs very much like getting matched up against smaller DBs in tight quarters. McCourty then slips on the break just like Darby had, which made the throw and catch pretty easy.

Then in the biggest moment for this team, which has been around since dirt, from a city that breathes football and in which it has been played since it was a thing, that hadn’t ever won the primary professional football association’s championship - on this play where they take the lead, Al Michaels, of “do you believe in miracles?” fame, says “Zach Ertz for the touchdown! And again, all you can think back to now is the Jesse James play with Pittsburgh. Does he complete the process?”

I’d like to think he’d want to take a mulligan on that one, given the context for Eagles fans. We know the review is coming, god damnit. Just let us have this moment, give us a memory, Michaels. But no.

I don’t know how long the review took, so I’m going to conservatively guess it was 8 months.

This was truly awful, and I get the “down with replay!” crowd here. You lose your shit in those few moments of sports fan glee, before the blood drains from your face because the thing you just saw happen might not have happened. They launch a forensic investigation over whether a knee brushed a blade of grass. Then you wait in trepidation, and if it goes your way, you feel awash in relief more than you feel the ragejoy you were just robbed of. If it doesn’t go your way, you want to crawl under your couch. All if this amplified 10,000x by the Super Bowl.

The fact that this is the first place Michaels goes is, I suppose, not really his fault and mostly just an example of where we’re at with football now. Everyone has to suspend their emotional reaction for however long it takes to reach a conclusion, and when that conclusion is reached, the losers feel shittier and the winners feel about 25% less ecstatic with the loss of immediacy.

Lots of Eagles fans and people rooting against the Patriots had out their torches and pitchforks for what they perceived as favoritism by Michaels and Collinsworth toward the reigning champs that had been going on all night. I didn’t really see what the complaints were about, but I was baffled that these two found this TD controversial. Michaels hit on it right away, the crux of the matter was whether Ertz was ruled a runner with possession of the ball before he broke the plane with it. And look at it. Yeah, he was a runner. He literally runs with possession of the ball. How much is he possessing the ball? Enough to shove it out over the goal line as he makes a desperate dive. The Clement TD was more up in the air than this one, by far.

When the refs finally confirmed the TD after their forensic analysis, this should have been the biggest moment of my sports fan life, but instead...nah. It was more exhaling and unclenching my butt for the first time in 5 minutes than it was “FUCK YEAAAAAAHHHH.” Suggesting we put scrap video review is stupid, but I understand I was emotionally robbed by it.

Going back to that clip for a moment, my favorite reaction is Jeffrey’s (#17). He looks like he wants to jump on Ertz but then doesn’t and instead does this kind of childlike hop with his arms up. It’s a heartwarming moment of pure human joy.

Anyway, if you’re up 5, there’s little reason not to go for 2, but of course it didn’t work out. Good defense.

Now here’s Tom Brady with the ball, a timeout, and 2:21 remaining. Like, it’s supposed to be unlikely they score, right? That’s what makes the legends for those who pull it off. Here was THE BIGGEST LEGEND in the history of the sport. The Eagles Defense was hot garbage that night. “2:21, the two-minute warning, and a time out, he’s got all day,” Michaels remarked with confidence. It just felt so inevitable.

Yes, here was the beginning of the end for all of us Eagles fans. Soft coverage, a quick out to Gronkowski for 7 yards. Soft coverage isn’t actually a bad idea here, but still, if it means you’re going to give up at least 7 yards each play, then the Patriots have plenty of time. The pass rush is actually getting into the backfield alright here, but Brady is able to make the decision quickly to a wide open receiver, so they’re not super close to him.

!

!!

Again, I wish I had a better story of my reaction to this play, but I was as frozen as I would have been if something horrible had happened, if the Eagles defense had all just fallen over and allowed Brady himself to slow-jog the 70 yards for the TD. But truth is stranger than fiction, and the Eagles pass rush had finally - FINALLY, after a game of being at best a step too slow as everyone danced to Brady’s tune - got to the target.

Although they had plenty of time, the Patriots still had to move the ball, and probably felt they had to crisscross the entire field with route patterns, and so couldn’t afford to trade receivers for extra blockers. Once again, the Eagles coverage is soft, they’re sinking back into zones starting at 10 yards. However, the soft coverage came through here - Brady is looking for a deeper throw and climbs the pocket, burning time not finding any targets. He goes to checkdown, but as he turns to dump it, Brandon Graham is in his face, hacking at his throwing arm. The D-line, the rock of this team, which had spent the game unexpectedly and embarrassingly vanishing, had burst back into the story.

Tom Brady doesn’t get strip sacked and force fed a fat L, like a lowly Brandon Weedon or Trevor Semian. Brady dishes out the Ls to other hapless chumps. But there he was, ass on grass. As an Australian football radio guy would shoutcast, “Tom Brady...bereft on the turf!”

By the way, Michaels goes “Derek Barnett comes away with it! Brandon Graham was one of the guys who got in there!”

I mean...holy shit, Michaels. That’s some real godawful play by play there. Boom goes the dynamite.

I suppose I should have been leaping for joy, but with the Eagles in the driver’s seat and 2:09 remaining, I was silent, “leaned-in” as though my focus on the ensuing events would ward off the many ways the Eagles could still manage to find to fuck it all up. First sack of the game, for the Patriots’ only turnover, and it bounced straight to Barnett. That was catching a break.

My friends, if you believe in the healing, soul-nourishing power of schadenfreude, please feast your eyes.

Even Big Balls Doug wasn’t about to go styling in this situation. The Eagles came out and went with the prescribed heavy package runs, bringing on Seumalo and 2 TEs to try to zone block through all the guys the Patriots would certainly be crowding the line of scrimmage with. Kelce gets blown the hell up here but scrambles and sticks with it. Blount does a nice job extending the play for as long as he could.

The exact same playcall next play was Pederson showing confidence in his kicker for what would be - and I know I’ve beaten this phrase to death - the biggest kick of his life. Jake Elliott, the rookie replacement after starter Caleb Sturgis was injured. Elliott, who got signed off the Bengals practice squad, who had an alarmingly high miss rate for close range kicks, but was somehow money from deep, who had a record-setting walk off 61-yard FG for a win against the Giants at the Linc...go win the game, kid.

Kickers are strange animals. They spend most of their time at practice and during games off to the side, just repeating their one craft over and over again. They get together with teammates to practice special teams execution and how to deal with given scenarios, maybe some trick plays. But by the nature of their job, they don’t get to be all that social with their teammates very much. Then they come in the moments that everyone remembers, sometimes to perform the game winning act after their team has spent the last several hours scrambling with sprained joints and peeing blood to set that kicker up for his shot. All the superstar QBs, WRs, LBs take a backseat, hold their breath, and stand to the side watching the skinniest guy on the team do his thing. Nothing else matters in that moment - not the touchdowns, sacks, clock management. All the egos fade away. Everyone has invested 100% of their emotional selves into this one dude.

If he comes through, he’s the hero. Multimillion dollar superstars storm the field with big goofy, unselfconscious smiles to dogpile him…

...and carry him into legend on their shoulders.

I’m always touched by this scene. Sports does this in a way we don’t get to see much in other walks of life. Everyone loses their god damn minds in hilarious joy and swarms this guy, and each other. It’s a human moment. All the other shitty contexts in life, all the conflict and racism and Steve Bannons vanish because it’s time to scream bliss gibberish at the kicker as they jump on his shoulderpads, for he is their guy.

And if he blows it, you have the Minnesota Vikings.

It’s an exercise in clutch. So on comes Elliott for a midrange FG to put the Eagles up 8 with just over a minute to go in the Super Bowl. No big deal.

It should be noted that rather than the ecstasy of a walk-off W here, Elliott’s teammates give him the usual workmanlike acknowledgements. It was still a one score game.

Failed trick plays always make the attempting team look like goober losers, but I don’t blame the Patriots for getting weird here. They sacrifice the maybe 10 - 15 yards that they’d have likely gotten with a standard return to shoot for the moon with this thing. It went nowhere, mercifully, but it was a solid idea. “That is a really interesting call,” observes Collinsworth. Was it? Seems pretty reasonable and justifiable.

Yesss, yesss, this is where the soft coverage becomes a smothering pillow. At least it should. That is a very tough throw and catch they attempt, but it was possible, god damnit. The zones were swiss cheese.

The pass rush was making its presence known. They were starting to give Brady tickles, which was a better late than never sort of thing. In fact, it was a “if you’re going to do it at all, late is the time to do it” sort of thing.

I mean...come the fuck on. The pass rush certainly was breathing down Brady’s neck here, and I get the secondary is playing waaaaayyy deep, but it’s 4th and 10. Still better safe than sorry by LB Nigel Bradham there, who was in the middle on those sink zones. He just wanted to make sure he was well behind Amendola.

Now let’s take a moment here for football probabilities. In all likelihood, I should have been already celebrating, right? Like there’s no way, right? The Patriots had 26 seconds to get another 78 yards plus a 2 point conversion just to tie it. Even for Tom Brady that’s a steep ask, right? Right?

No, it wasn’t. No, it fucking wasn’t. There was zero chance I was going to cease sweating and unclench my sphincter for even a nanosecond.

See? SEE?! The Eagles were giving the Patriots this kind of quick out for 10 yards, but the Patriots were happy to take it. They hit one of those every 6 - 7 seconds of gameclock, then they only need one (one!) bomb miracle and the Eagles will have LOST, THE SKY WILL OPEN, THE SEVEN TRUMPETS WILL SOUND, AND A MOUNTAIN OF FIRE WILL FALL, AND LAND IN THE OCEAN. THE ANIMALS WILL CRY AND FLEE, AND THERE WILL BE MUCH WAILING AND GNASHING OF TEETH AMONGST HUMANKIND. GREAT C’THULU WILL ADJOIN WITH BEELZEBUB, THEY WILL OPEN ONE OF THEIR 17 SCREECHING MAWS AND SING THE SONG THAT ENDS THIS EARTH.

I’m glad no one was around to make even a single god damn sound as I was watching this. If anyone were to have piped up with “Man, this is getting surprisingly suspenseful, given how 2 minutes ago it looked as if the Eagles were clearly going to win,” I’d have uppercut them to the sun.

Darby makes the right move hugging the sideline after Gronkowski makes the catch, trying to tangle him up inbounds, but the Patriots look like they’ve set up sort of a pick play just for the this purpose. Listen to Collinsworth rooting so hard for Gronkowski to get out of bounds. “There he is!” he exhales in relief as the real life centaur stumbles across the line. OH, THERE HE IS, COLLINSWORTH? THAT SURE IS A LOAD OFF, RIGHT?! HEAVEN FORFEND HE GETS TACKLED IN BOUNDS AND SOMEONE OTHER THAN TAWM FACKIN’ BRADY WINS THE SUPER BOWL.

Good defensive positioning here, but why couldn’t he just reel it in? Can’t we please have an anticlimactic crunch-time INT to put the game away, followed by what would be my favorite victory formation? I love victory formation, partially because I had very few opportunities to run it. All the routine trappings of football execution that you’re having to perform - huddle, line up, get your alignments right, listen for snap count, execute your prescribed action - are 1000% more fun in victory formation because 1. It’s an easy thing to do 2. There’s no pressure 3. Everyone is smiling and someone is probably making a joke and 4. There’s always that tiiiiiny chance someone on the other team is salty and is gonna pull some dickish shit. One of the dark sides of sports for me is that being pissed off is often thrilling. And in victory formation, you hold all the cards. “Scoreboard,” is the unbeatable comeback to any insult. Imagine how fun it would be in the Super Bowl!

But no. No, now we gotta have actual excitement. I didn’t want excitement. I wanted anything but excitement. I wanted a hilarious blowout like the NFCCG. I wanted the game to be over after the first quarter, and the rest of the game to be a joyous victory lap. I wanted to start happy drinking beer, rather than slowly sipping room temperature water. This game had already had miracles. Jeffrey, Blount, Clement, Ertz, the Patriots O-line, Gronkowski’s 2-TD performance, Tom Brady again, the Philly Special, Brandon Graham, Derek Barnett, the world holding Nick Foles’s beer and watching what he did next. 1,152 total yards of offense, the most in any NFL game ever.

You think there was any chance anyone thought a 51 yard heave into the endzone was impossible? Or some crazy never-before-seen hook-and-ladder or whatever Emperor Palpatine on the Patriots sideline cooked up to make use of the best QB, the best TE, and whatever role-player-come-unstoppable-superstar the Patriots have elevated this week?

I didn’t blink as the ball was snapped. Dug my fingers into the couch arm as Brady spun out of the arms of Graham, who was suddenly in pass rush hypermode. Brady found a moment, a platform, and reminded everyone of his weird agelessness as he cannoned the ball downfield. I remember being aware of the crowd roar and wondered how anyone had any juice left to make sound as the ball flew. It sailed upward into the middle air of the stadium, tracked by hundreds of cameras and millions of eyeballs, and then down to a tight bunch of desperately grappling men. It bounced once off the players, and those watching who had the diaphragm strength left to gasp did so. Then it fell to the turf and into history.