#all of this on foot apart from the initial drive to hospital

[ithinkheknowss]

What a fucking day...

#we had to drive my dad to the hospital cause he has a horrible stomach bug #then i went to my own appointment and finally i have a diagnosis for the pain I've been feeling #then walked like crazy around town to get my prescribed meds go to GP and get sick leave for both me and my dad #waited for over an hour there #then finally bought a pretzel for breakfast at 11 #went to my dad's work to drop off his sick leave note #went back home #all of this on foot apart from the initial drive to hospital #dad is home now too and slightly better #and i have to go out again in ~2 hours to catch my train and go home cause i got work tomorrow #annie talks

[shesholy]

𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖓𝖊     .     initial     .

full     name:    jolene     eve     bowie     . nicknames,     aliases:  

jo     .

jojo     .

jb     .    

age:     thirty     . date     of     birth:     september     second     . place     of     birth:     tulsa     ,     oklahoma     . nationality:    american     . ethnicity:    white     (          scottish     ,     english          )     . languages     spoken:     english     ,     italian     (          not     fluent     though          )     .

zodiac     sign:    virgo     . hogwarts     house:    ravenclaw     . myers     -    briggs:    istj     -     t     .

occupation:   actress     (          formerly          )     ,     singer     ,     publicist     (          formerly          )     ,     businesswoman     ,     social     media     influencer     . education:     homeschooled     (         g.     2010        )     ,     univeristy     of     california     ,     los     angeles     (          g.     2014          )      career     claims:     ashley     tisdale     (          acting     &     singing          )     ,     avril     lavinge     (          singing          )     .

(          you     can     find     her     discography     here     .          )

height:    five     foot     eight     . weight:    128     lbs     . tattoos,     piercings:    same     as     faceclaim     .

father:     fulton     bowie     (          fifty     -     eight          )     ,     an     american     pastor     .     relationship     :     nonexistent     now     ,     the     biggest     antagonist     in     her     life      .     to     say     she     hates     him     would     be     an     understand     of     grand     proportions    .   mother:     lydia     bowie     nee     taylor     (          fifty     -     six          )     ,     an     american     stay     at     home     wife     and     event     planner     .    relationship     :    a     toxic     dynamic     ,     most     of     her     life     was     spent     trying     to     make     her     mother     proud     ,     now     she     just     harbors     resentment     toward     her     . sibling:     samuel     bowie     ,     (          thirty     -     two          )     ,     an     american     professor     at     the     university     of     oklahoma       .     relationship     :     once     her     best     friend     now     he’s     the     biggest     let     down     of     her     entire     life     ;     she     still     misses     him     every     damn      day     .      pets:     motley     (          white     siberian     husky     ,     five     years     old         )

gender:    cis     female     . pronouns:     she     /     her     . orientation:    bisexual     . status:   single     . past     relationships:

maverick     ledger     .     (          d.     2012     -     2016          )

𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖔     .     background     .

chara     inspo   :     red     reznikov     (     orange     is     the     new     black     )     ,     betty     cooper     (     riverdale    )     ,     varys   (     game     of     thrones     )     .

jolene  was  born  in  september  of  1992  ,  the  only  daughter  of  fulton  and  lydia  bowie  .  from  the  outside  looking  in  the  bowie  household  was  perfect  ,  the  perfect  picture  of  an  american  family  :  spiritual  couple  who  did  everything  the  right  way  and  there  two  well  behaved  and  happy  children  .  that  wasn’t  the  case  though  .  behind  the  walls  of  the  victorian  home  ,  when  the  masks  fell  off  ,  was  a  family  falling  apart  at  the  hands  of  a  father  boiling  with  a  brutal  anger  and  a  mother  with  harbored  animosity  at  the  world  .  a  dynamic  duo  of  physical  and  emotional  abuse  .  a  young  jolene  was  doomed  from  the  start  ,  in  her  younger  years  ,  a  meek  little  girl  crippled  by  her  home  life  .  her  only  escape  being  her  brother  who  tried  his  best  to  protect  her  but  at  just  two  years  older  his  attempts  could  only  do  so  much  .  

in  an  attempt  to  bring  her  out  of  her  shell  ,  her  mother  signed  her  up  for  a  talent  search  .  jolene  cried  the  entire  drive  to  auditions  :  petrified  of  being  turned  down  ,  not  being  liked  and  worse  of  all  proving  all  the  harsh  words  her  mother  had  always  thrown  her  way  right  .  when  the  talent  managers  loved  her  though  ,  the  look  of  pride  on  her  mother’s  face  was  something  she’d  cling  onto  for  dear  life  in  the  years  to  come  .  adolescence  spent  between  oklahoma  and  los  angles  once  realization  hit  that  she  was  now  apart  of  the  disney  machine  .  los  angeles  became  a  safe  haven  for  her  (  for  some  time  atleast  )  ,  something  she  was  sure  most  people  would  never  quite  understand  .  finding  herself  and  her  voice  ,  things  were  seemingly  on  the  up  and  up  for  her  .  

everything  came  crashing  down  when  she  was  photographed  kissing  a  co  -  star  --  another  girl  .  her  parents  not  the  most  accepting  pair  in  the  world  didn’t  take  well  to  this  and  the  abuse  that  had  seemingly  started  to  lessen  over  the  years  worsened  to  a  point  she  landed  in  the  hospital  .  blessing  and  a  curse  ,  now  that  she  looks  back  at  the  time  .  she’d  finally  told  someone  about  her  home  life  ,  a  nurse  at  the  hospital  ,  and  soon  enough  the  process  to  become  emancipated  started  for  her  .  once  the  news  was  broken  to  her  parents  ,  they  seemingly  let  her  go  with  ease  ,  claiming  she  was  already  dead  to  them  .  entirely  disowned  by  her  parents  ,  her  brother  was  her  only  family  left  but  after  a  few  months  even  he  sided  with  their  parents  and  cut  all  ties  jolene  .  

entirely  alone  and  on  her  own  in  hollywood  was  a  recipe  for  disaster  and  like  many  disney  kids  fate  she  spiraled  .  perfect  reputation  slipping  out  her  grasp  with  every  day  that  passed  .  drugs  ,  sex  ,  and  alcohol  ruled  her  life  and  soon  enough  disney  was  sick  of  trying  to  cover  it  all  up  .  giving  her  an  ultimatum  :  go  into  rehab  and  clean  up  her  act  or  cut  ties  with  disney  .  naturally  she  opted  for  rehab  and  after  six  months  she  was  seemingly  back  and  better  than  ever  ,  truth  was  ,  she  was  still  struggling  and  the  lime  light  only  worsened  things  for  her  .  

at  eighteen  she  packed  up  her  career  and  without  a  single  trace  fell  off  the  face  off  the  earth  .  no  longer  wanting  to  be  famous  ,  realization  that  acting  was  simply  just  a  means  for  her  to  try  and  make  her  mom  proud  --  something  she  no  longer  cared  to  do  .  she  enrolled  in  university  ,  majoring  in  business  with  a  minor  in  communications  ,  no  idea  what  she  was  going  to  do  with  her  degree  but  excited  to  start  down  a  new  path  all  of  her  own  .  college  was  fun  for  her  another  chance  to  find  herself  (  she  has  an  obsession  with  recreating  herself  )  .  she  was  feisty  and  strong  willed  ,  traces  of  that  meek  little  girl  she  once  was  scrubbed  clean  .  

when  the  time  came  to  graduate  she  realized  a  purpose  behind  everything  she’d  gone  through  with  fame  :  she  knew  the  ins  and  outs  of  it  all  and  could  easily  help  other’s  navigate  their  own  trials  and  tribulations  when  it  came  to  their  fame  .  becoming  a  publicists  was  fulfilling  for  her  ,  her  clients  becoming  a  form  of  her  very  own  found  family  (  she’d  do  anything  for  them  to  this  day  ,  even  ruin  her  own  reputation  if  she  had  to  )  .  she  was  one  of  the  good  ones  ,  despite  her  lack  of  a  filter  ,  and  she  cared  for  each  and  every  one  her  clients  and  their  careers  .  over  time  a  new  opportunity  arose  and  had  it  been  anyone  else  asking  for  her  help  she  would  have  likely  turned  them  down  but  when  carter  called  for  her  to  take  care  of  the  business  side  of  les  deux  she  simply  couldn’t  say  no  .  taking  off  her  publicist  cap  and  putting  on  one  more  suited  for  a  businesswoman  .  she  misses  the  pr  world  at  times  but  still  very  much  so  has  an  open  door  policy  with  anyone  looking  for  a  bit  of  advice  .  

when  she  not  busy  with  the  business  she  making  youtube  videos  and  makes  regular  podcast  runs  ,  something  she  fell  in  love  with  doing  back  in  college  and  hasn’t  let  go  of  since  .  she’s  finally  found  under  all  the  trash  that  was  piled  up  on  her  as  child  and  is  unwilling  to  ever  lose  herself  again  .  recently  becoming  more  vocal  about  her  childhood  ,  netflix  has  contacted  her  to  do  a  docuseries  on  her  life  .  although  filming  is  still  going  on  the  title  was  leaked  “  jolene  bowie  :  a  dance  with  the  devil  “  .  since  the  announcement  of  the  documentary  her  family  has  already  made  public  statements  trying  to  discredit  her  but  the  new  version  of  jolene  won’t  allow  them  to  silence  her  ever  again  .                                                                                                                                              

𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊     .     facts     .

has  an  affinity  for  anything  vintage  .  lives  by  vinyls  ,  polaroids  ,  old  magazines  ,  and  cars  older  than  her  father  .  she’s  a  big  collector  and  has  a  vast  collection  of  all  the  above  .  yes  ,  she  the  type  to  peruse  through  a  music  store  for  hours  and  drive  by  the  ocean  in  her  1962  oldsmobile  starfire  convertible  (  her  favorite  out  her  her  entire  car  collection  )  .  

still  does  music  here  and  there  but  it’s  more  for  herself  not  for  anyone  else  and  if  people  like  it  she  takes  that  as  a  plus  . 

very adventurous  ,  she’s  the  type  to  just  up  and  leave  for  a  week  without  a  word  .  you’ll  only  know  she’s  gone  when  she  posts  in  some  beautiful  country  on  instagram  . 

has  a  tough  relationship  with  love  ,  she  doesn’t  say  the  word  willy  nilly  and  is  incredibly  guarded  with  who  she  lets  in  .  if  she  loves  someone  ,  she’ll  always  love  them  . 

vulger  mouth  ,  with  no  filter  .  she  doesn’t  beat  around  the  bush  ,  ever  ,  and  can  be  a  bit  insensitive  at  times  with  how  she  says  things  .  she  never  says  anything  out  of  malice  but  her  tone  can  and  has  rubbed  many  the  wrong  way  over  the  years  . 

a  mother  bear  to  her  core  (  even  though  she  doesn’t  actually  have  children  )  .  she  doesn’t  care  if  you’re  ten  years  younger  ,  the  same  age  ,  or  ten  years  older  ,  she  is  a  protector  and  will  die  on  that  hill  .                                          

𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗     .     wanted     connections     .

hehe  .

#hillzhqsintro #ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ㅤ੭ ʲᵒˡᵉⁿᵉ 𝐛𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐞 : ❪ ⠀ ⠀ muse: ⠀ ⠀ ❫ #ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ㅤ੭ ʲᵒˡᵉⁿᵉ 𝐛𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐞 : ❪ ⠀ ⠀ about: ⠀ ⠀ ❫ #tw: rehab mention #tw: child abuse mention #tw: homophobia mention #tw: her life

[emaardigihomesproject]

Emaar Digi Homes A laid out land center in Gurgaon

Emaar Digi Homes An established real estate hub in Gurgaon

Golf Course Road is one of the most sought-after real estate investment destinations in Emaar Digi Homes. Starting from Bristol Chowk, the road goes up to Sector 62in proximity to the Southern Peripheral Road (SPR). In terms of connectivity, it is at par with the developed locations and ensures easy access to the crucial business districts of the National Capital Region (NCR).

Dotted with the plushest high rises in the city, including Magnolias, Camellias, Aralias, Exotica, and Park View; Golf Course Road has emerged as a predominant residential option in Gurgaon. The locality encapsulates several  including the famous business districts .

top nature of lay out land in Emaar Digi Homes Gurgaon

In terms of connectivity, the stretch seamlessly connects to the Gurgaon-Sohna Road and the National Highway (NH) 8. Additionally, the widening of the Road and the extension of rapid metro up to Sectors 62 has further eased the commute. Besides good connectivity, the locality also has a well-developed social infrastructure, comprising excellent schools and hospitals. Precisely, convenience and comfort are the two critical factors that have fuelled the demand for apartments along the Golf Course Road.

Of all the properties available for sale in Golf Course Road, over 95 percent are ready-to-move, and 3 BHK and 2 BHK configurations Emaar Digi Homes Gurgaon of the prominent builders that have launched their projects along the stretch.

Proximity to commercial hubs

Golf Course Road is one of the few markets in the city that has emerged as the focal point for corporate setups. The region is well-connected to some of the known commercial establishments in Gurgaon. The famous Cyber City is merely 15 minutes drive via the newly-built underpasses. It is owing to this, a large number of working professionals prefer to reside in the area. Not only capital but the demand for rental housing is also equally good along the Golf Course Road.

Overall Outlook

Golf Course Road has come a long way from being an empty stretch to one of the most Emaar Digi Homes Sector 62 in Gurgaon. The locality witnessed healthy capital appreciation from 2007 to 2016 due to its rising popularity among expatriates and High Net Worth Individuals (HNIs); however, it lost its appeal in the later years due to heavy traffic jams at various junctions. Now, the corridor is again shaping up for impressive transformation with enhanced connectivity options. rapid metro commencement are some of the significant infrastructure initiatives taken in this direction. The Gurgaon Metropolitan Development Authority (GMDA), has also decided to redesign certain vital intersections, including Bristol Chowk as a part of the road safety initiative. The project once through would boost the connectivity quotient of the locality.

While Golf Course Road is indeed a popular destination residential price in Digi Homes appreciation due to the infrastructure push has already been factored in. Therefore, any significant increase in the quoted ‘asks’ seems unlikely in the near-term. Nevertheless, the area is likely to remain popular for commercial leasing, especially among those willing to set foot in Delhi NCR.

#Emaar Digi Homes #Emaar Digi Homes Gurgaon #Emaar Digi Homes Sector 62 #Digi Homes

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Silent Treatment (Ethan x MC)

Summary: Naomi decides that if Ethan isn’t going to treat her like a valued member of the team, she’ll teach him a little lesson.

Based on chapter 1, some spoilers for chapter 2, and my own speculation, so read at your own risk.

I highkey hate this but I’m posting it anyway

~v~

Naomi is quiet. No, she is unusually quiet. Ethan has seen her get silent when it’s time to buckle down and focus on a task, or if something is weighing heavily on her, but at this point he knows her well enough to know it’s neither of those. She’s withdrawn, and he doesn’t understand why.

Her presence is hard to miss, the young resident has enough charm and charisma in her pinky finger to dazzle an entire room. And she’s never this quiet. Naomi demands to be heard at all times. With unapologetic vivacity. With her hands. Eyes sparkling when she gets an idea, or fiery when she needs to dig her toes into something and fight. Nothing about Naomi Valentine is ever subdued, so why the hell is she so silent?

She didn’t speak much during the last few team meetings. He and Harper have led all of the conversations, bouncing ideas back and forth, building off of each other’s ideas. Occasionally, Naomi would offer input, merely to agree or disagree with a theory, before going back into her shell.

It’s even bleeding into their personal life. For the better part of the past 3 months, she’s stayed with him, the two of them holed up in his apartment in the Back Bay, but now she’s opting to stay at her own place. It’s been going on a few days now, this random despondence, and Ethan isn’t a fan of it. He’d take it a step further and say it's driving him crazy. This isn’t the woman he’s known for the past two years, even at her lowest was she never this reclusive.

As he walks down the halls of Edenbrook, he spots Naomi, her personality back to what it once was. She’s with Ines at a vending machine, and Naomi wastes no time animatedly talking to the now attending about a fun date she went on with her girlfriend.

Heart hammering wildly in his chest, Ethan swallows thickly as he listens to her talk. He’s missed the sound of her voice, the affectionate way her strong accent curls around her ‘r’s’ and dramatically elongates her ‘o’s’. It becomes clear that she’s willing to talk, just not to him. Ethan doesn’t like that idea at all, but it’s the only one that makes sense. And if that’s the case, he needs to get to the bottom of things and remedy the situation.

“Naomi, can we talk please?” He asks once Ines is no longer in their presence.

He doesn’t miss the way she bristles upon hearing his voice. But Naomi nods anyway. “Sure, what’s wrong?”

“Can we talk in the office?”

The walk back to the seventh floor is marked with awkward silence as Naomi refuses to initiate conversation with him. The more time ticks on, the more anxiety settles in Ethan’s chest. What’s going on with her that she refuses to divulge?

The office is unoccupied when they arrive, as Harper has already gone home for the evening. Naomi stands by the door, opting not to settle into a seat or even move further into the room. Everything about her body language reads that she’s poised and ready to strike at any given moment. He frowns. She’s never been this defensive against him, at least when they’re not in the middle of an argument. “What’s going on?”

“Are you okay?”

The question catches Naomi off guard. She blinks slowly before shrugging in nonchalance. “I’m fine, Ethan.”

“You’re fine? Really?”

“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t be fine?”

“Not really, but you haven’t been acting like yourself recently.”

Because you’ve been quieter than a church mouse for the past few days. You don’t talk during meetings, you’re silent when we interact with the patients, it’s like you’ve completely tuned out.”

With the way he’s been acting, Naomi is almost shocked that he even realized what she’s been doing. Wow, so maybe the great Ethan Ramsey hasn’t lost his attention to detail.

“Oh, so you’ve actually noticed?”

“I’m a diagnostician, I notice everything,” Ethan deadpans. He can feel the sarcasm wafting off of her. “What, was this an intentional act for my attention?”

“Intentional, yes. But for your attention? Not necessarily,” Naomi answers.

His eyes narrow at her, his gaze near piercing. She’s playing some sort of childish game with him, first with not speaking and now with the vague half answers. “Okay, so walk me through your thought process. Why has the cat stolen your tongue?”

“I decided that if my input wasn’t going to be valued during team discussions, I might as well not speak at all.”

Ethan gapes at her, confused. Where did that come from? “Naomi, what on earth are you talking about? When have I ever not valued your input?”

“I’m talking about the fact that for the past two cases, I’ve stood on the sidelines while you’ve either cut me off mid-sentence to talk over me, or ignore my presence altogether. I might as well blend into the wall.”

“That’s not–”

Naomi doesn’t give him the chance to refute.  “Please spare me the attempt at arguing. Last week, Harper’s first day on the team, you literally had to circle back to me because you cut me off while I was speaking. And now, we’re working on a case, and you and Harper aren’t even taking this patient seriously! I’ve had to redirect the conversation and tell you guys to focus, because you two were too busy acting like bosom buddies, sharing anecdotes about hangovers, and stupid flamenco lessons, and dates you went on in the past, which is not only inappropriate and disrespectful to the patient’s time, it’s disrespectful to me.”

“So either you are completely oblivious, which I find hard to believe for someone as astute as you are, or you have no respect for me, not just as your colleague, but as the woman you claim to be in a relationship with,” Naomi continues. The floodgates have been opened and now that she’s started, she can’t stop herself. “And maybe it’s the latter, because I set that standard. I’ve let you go days, weeks, months without speaking to me with zero consequence, I’ve let you shut me out and slam doors in my face, make snide comments last year when we were treating Leland, I’ve let you have carte blanche over the pace of this relationship. I’ve always just been here and allowed your shitty social graces and piss poor communication skills to rule, and time and time again, you’ve gone unscathed, but now I’m just really tired of it.”

For the first time in a long, Ethan doesn’t have a clue what to say, and as always, Naomi is the woman who puts him in this position.

“Naomi, you can’t possibly think that I think so little of you.”

He can tell by the way her eyes darken that he put his entire foot in his mouth just now. The warning bells go off in his brain, and he scrambles to think of how he can correct this latest blunder.

Naomi bites down on her lip, and she’s actually shocked her mouth isn’t instantly flooded with the metallic taste of blood. She’s getting Punk’d obviously. The office is bugged, and Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out and announce his presence soon. That has to be it. Ethan has to be pranking her, because there’s no way a 38 year old man could ever be so dense, right? Surely his response to her grievances isn’t to dismiss her claims.

“You know what? You’re being obtuse, and we clearly aren’t getting anywhere, so I’m going to cut this conversation off now.”

She refuses to look like the psycho in this scenario and breathe any more life into this argument, and she’s not about to plead her case any further like she’s the one in the wrong.

Ethan’s eyes soften, and he takes a step forward, arms outstretched to touch, soothe whatever hurts he’s heaped upon her, but Naomi sidesteps, moving out of his reach.

If he wasn’t nervous at the start of this conversation, he is now. If the physical act of Naomi blatantly refusing to touch him wasn’t clear enough, the metaphorical chasm between the two of the just widened by a few yards as well. A chill races up and down the length of his spine.

“Naomi, I’m sorry,” Ethan says gently. “I…” His words taper off and he pauses, struggling for what he wants to say next. This has never been his strong point, being vulnerable.

And Naomi doesn’t offer him a lifeline. She’s not going to give him an out or assuage him of anything he’s currently feeling like she usually does. She’s laid out all of her cards, and things are in Ethan’s court at this point. Like always. 

“I’m going home,” she announces. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

~v~

The sun is barely out when Naomi shows up for work in the morning. Most of the hospital is still, the last of the night shift heading out as she’s on her way in. She heads towards the residents’ lounge, wanting to put her things away before checking in on her patients and having a team meeting.

As soon as she opens her locker, she spots a gorgeous bouquet of red roses wrapped in newspaper invading the space. There’s no note attached to the bouquet, and she spared a quick glance around the room to see if anyone else is there. The lounge is empty, save for another resident in the corner, sleeping.

Naomi takes the bouquet out of her locker, careful not to smash the petals and holds it up to her nose, inhaling deeply. 

Deciding to not put more thought into where they came from, Naomi simply cradles the bouquet in the crook of one of her arms, stuffs her bag into her locker, and continues on with her morning routine.

She’s passing by the nurses’ station on the 7th floor when someone catches her attention. “Oh Dr. Valentine! You have a special delivery.”

Her steps slow down as she approaches the front desk where Sarah, one of her favorite RNs is stationed. Sarah steps aside, revealing an even larger bouquet of roses, these ones white.

“Where did these come from?” Naomi asks.

“They were delivered about half an hour ago,” Sarah replies with a wink. “No note, though. I won’t let Dr. Ramsey know that you have a secret admirer.”

And that’s when it clicks into place. Memories of her fight with Ethan come flooding back, and it becomes clear that he’s the one gifting her these flowers. Before she even realizes she’s doing it, her eyes roll. If he thinks a couple of bouquets of roses are a good enough apology, he can think again.

Naomi plucks a white rose right from the center of the bouquet and hands it to Sarah. “For you.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“I insist,” Naomi says. “Happy Friday, Sarah.”

“Thank you, Dr. Valentine!”

Seeing the smile on the senior nurse’s face is almost enough to cleanse Naomi of the annoyance she feels towards Ethan in this moment. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Naomi manages to scoop up this new batch of flowers – they’re in a vase, to which she adds her red ones – and finishes her trek to the office.

She isn’t expecting it to be covered in bunches of bright yellow sunflowers.

Their communal desk is covered in them, along with Ethan’s personal desk and the couch. “What on earth was he thinking?”

“I was thinking that sunflowers are your favorite flower,” Ethan answers, and Naomi jumps, startled at his voice. She whips around and sees him standing in the doorway. “And so I got up well before the sun was shining, went to the Boston Flower Exchange and bought every single one I could get my hands on.”

“And the roses?”

“White is supposed to be symbolic of new beginnings and forgiveness,” Ethan explains. “And you simply can’t go wrong with red.”

“If you think buying me flowers is going to cut it, you must not know me well,” Naomi says. Him buying her things doesn’t impress her, no matter how much she jokes about his money.

“No, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.” Ethan takes a cautious step into the room, shutting the door behind him. A sleepless night without her beside him forced Ethan to do a lot of thinking about how he wanted this conversation to go. A peace offering is always a good start. “And it got you to talk to me.”

Naomi scoffs and sets her flowers down. “Barely.”

“I’m sorry,” Ethan says. “I’m an idiot, and an asshole.”

“It’s good that we can agree on something.”

Okay, it’s clear that she is not going to give him any leeway. “You were absolutely right to call me out on my behavior towards you.”

“Why did you do it?” Naomi asks.

“I wasn’t thinking,” Ethan says simply. “I got so caught up in having Harper on the team, and it’s easy to slip back into old habits without even realizing.”

“It wasn’t a simple one time thing. It was more than once that you and Harper completely forgot I was even there. And I like Harper, I don’t think I could respect her more than I already do, and I have a very healthy sense of self esteem, but even the toughest person on earth wouldn’t like being in my shoes, on the outside looking in while you and your ex reminisce on old dates and inside stories. Ethan, you couldn’t handle a modicum of the shit I have willingly put up with in order to be with you.”

His stomach knots up at the thought of an ex-boyfriend of Naomi’s coming into his personal space, sharing personal jokes with her, ignoring him, and monopolizing her time. If the thought of it had him this twisted, he can’t believe he’s been putting her through that reality.

“You were right to call me out on my bad communication skills. I am terrible at relationships. I’m not using it as an excuse, it’s just the truth. But I’ve gotten complacent, which is unacceptable.” Ethan takes another step towards Naomi, and when she doesn’t instantly recoil, he takes it as a sign to get even closer. “The last thing I ever want to do is stifle your voice, or make you feel invisible. Naomi, you are...invaluable. To this hospital, to this team, to me, and I am so sorry that there was ever a time where I made you feel like you weren’t. You are the most important person in my life, and what we have is something I’ve never had with anyone else.”

“Okay, so start acting like it,” Naomi challenges. “I’m your equal and I demand every bit of respect you have to offer. Anything less than that cannot be tolerated anymore, personally or professionally.”

Ethan nods emphatically at her words. “Of course.”

“I mean it.”

“You have my word, Naomi. I’ll never let it happen again.” He closes the gap between them and cups her face in his hand. “Just please...never give me the silent treatment again. Yell from the rooftops, argue with me, I don’t care, but I can’t take not hearing your voice.”

“You needed to be taught a lesson,” Naomi says simply.

“I learned my lesson, and I hated it,” Ethan confesses, his lips dangerously close to hers. Naomi doesn’t budge, not even an inch. She’s terribly stubborn, even at the end of a fight. “It was torture.”

“Good.” Deciding to put him out of his misery, Naomi tilts her head up and captures Ethan in a kiss. He doesn’t waste a single second returning it. His free hand wraps around the small of her back, pulling her in closer. How did he go this long without touching her?

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing, but he finally breaks apart from her long enough to bury his face in her neck, allowing her scent and soft skin to soothe any of his fraught nerves. She smells like home.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” Ethan asks.

“The jury is still out on that one.”

“You’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?”

“Are you up for the challenge?”

Ethan untangles himself from their embrace and takes a step back, so he’s able to look Naomi in the eyes. He takes her hand and presses a soft kiss into her palm. “For you? I’ll do just about anything.”

~v~

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#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan x mc

[djjarins]

hurts like heaven (divorced! frankie x lawyer! reader)

divorced! frankie x lawyer! reader, silver linings playbook! au

rating: teen (I guess), no explicit content except for drug use

warnings: depictions and descriptions of drug use (if this makes you uncomfortable you may want to skip this one), mentions of divorce and custody battles, mention of time spent in an inpatient behavioral health setting

word count: 3.9k (WHOOPS i got excited)

a/n: I am so excited for my first frankie oneshot!! thank you so much to @hailmary-yramliah​ for this request, I hope you like it!! here is my masterlist, and if you have any requests you can send me an ask! also credit to @hunterschafer​ for the beautiful frankie gif!!

"Mr. Morales, after a thorough review of the details of this case, including but not limited to testimonies of your close friends and NA sponsor, revision of your record, and speaking with the judge who oversaw the suspension of your pilot's license, I have come to the conclusion that you are currently unfit to have full custody of your daughter. I am hereby granting full custody of Eleanor Luciana Morales to her biological mother."

The minute Francisco Morales hears the words of the family court judge before him ruling in favor of his now ex-wife, he nearly passes out.

The former Delta Force soldier vaguely heard the protests of Pope, who is the only person sitting within the rows of seats on the side of the courtroom where he currently resides. He doesn't register his lawyer uttering a half-assed apology or even the cheers from his ex-wife and her family on the other side of the room.

All he hears is white noise as the judge bangs the gavel to settle the room, explaining that Ava now will have primary and sole custody and that Frankie will only be allowed supervised visits with a social worker, and that Ava can take her daughter home today.

Their daughter.

Frankie knows he isn't perfect - fuck, he is far from it but this just seems like a sick joke.

As soon as his license was officially stripped from him, he knew his marriage was over. The tension had started almost a year earlier when Ava suspected Frankie of using, to which he vehemently denied.

Of course, it was true, but how was he supposed to explain and admit to the love of his life that he needed the cocaine flowing through his body in order to feel anything anymore.

Things began to crumble soon after the initial suspicion by Ava. 

The best way Frankie thought to deal with this problem was to put some space between himself and his wife. He didn't want her to see him when he was strung out and begging for one last hit - God forbid his daughter see him like that.

In a way, Frankie was grateful that Ellie was still an infant, and that she would have no memory of the fights he had with her mother over his addiction.

He began staying out late at bars and other places downtown where he knew he could meet his dealer and get more of his fix, trying to keep it as far away from his home as possible. 

After a few drinks and a successful meeting with his dealer, he would make his way home where he eventually came down, the immediate rush of guilt and sorrow filling his heart as he would return home and see the bedroom door was locked, indicating he had to crash on the couch.

It was when he stepped through the threshold of his small cottage that he felt the shame bubble up from deep inside him, knowing that he couldn't just snuggle up next to his wife and pretend things were fine, or even cradle his daughter in his arms and rock her to sleep, as on these nights Ava made sure to keep Ellie in the bedroom with her. 

Those were the nights that haunted him the most.

Breaking Ava's heart was something long in the past - and he knew she wouldn't be able to just forgive him for what he put her through. She was always the one to give people the benefit of the doubt - something he used to tease her about but now feels scorned by. She was the one who stood by him when he admitted he had a problem - giving him support and resources for healing all while lending a helping hand. 

She knew he wouldn't try to harm their relationship on purpose.

But when his use began to impede more on their relationship, Ava put her foot down. She was getting tired of the cycle of hurt that came with each band of withdrawal and promises of this being the "last" time, only to see her husband relapse again and again. She tried her hardest to continue supporting him, her high school sweetheart, but she had reached her limit. She started spending more time with her parents, leaving Ellie in their care for most days so she didn't have to see her father stumble through the door after a night out. 

Two weeks later she served him with the divorce papers.

Frankie knows that he fucked up, be he never meant to harm Ava or Ellie along the way, especially his baby daughter, whose brown eyes were almost carbon copies of his own. He can't even stomach the idea of Eleanor growing up without her father in her life - she is his whole world, and since the day she was born he promised her that he would always be there for her.

But now, his heart aches knowing he is going home to a semi-furnished one-bedroom apartment, no wife or daughter waiting up for him like when he returned from missions or deployment.

Francisco Morales was not one to take the easy way out.

He clutches his patient belongings bag tighly in his right hand as he walks out of the lobby of the inpatient rehabilitation center, scanning the outside pickup area for a familiar truck. After looking around for a moment a truck horn beep startles him, turning to see a familiar mop of black hair peeking out of his truck.

Chuckling to himself, Frankie jogs over to the passenger side and hops in, feeling Pope immediately wrap him tightly in a hug. "I missed you Cat," he murmurs into the pilot's shoulder, giving him a comforting pat on the back before releasing the brown-haired man from his arms.

"I missed you too Santi," Frankie sighs, placing his bag down on the floor at his feet, "I don't know how much longer I could stay there without seeing a familiar face."

Santi lets out a low laugh as he starts up the truck and pulls out of the patient drop-off area before turning onto the main road. The two sit in silence for a few moments as Frankie stretches out his limbs, turning his head to look out the window as they drive down through the city.

The black haired man knows better than to pry and quiz the pilot about his 2 month stay at the local inpatient rehabilitation center. After the fallout of the trial, things got rough really fast. Santi knew deep down there was a chance of relapse, even with Frankie left the courtroom promising that this would never happen again - but it was all too much.

At 3:11 am Santi got a call from Frankie.

By 6:30 the pair were at the very same doors that Frankie had just emerged, with Santi comfortingly rubbing his hand up and down the brunette's back and they waited to check him in and head over to intake.

But Santi doesn't pry.

He just drums a tune on the steering wheel as he continues driving down the main stretch of road in the city. He watches out of the corner of his eye as they get to a red light as Frankie fixes his hair, running his fingers through the brown fringe across his forehead and he lets out a chuckle.

"What's so funny Pope? I don't wanna look like I'm fresh out of the hospital." He huffs, looking over his hair again before closing the mirror.

To say Frankie was nervous was an understatement. He had been out of the hospital for less than ten minutes and he was already on his way to meet a new lawyer. His new lawyer.

The previous week Frankie received a call from Santi during his afternoon rec time. At first he couldn't make out what the other man was saying, he remembers huffing out something the lines of "are you fucking drunk?" but made sure to keep quiet as he knew some people in the rec area didn't take too kindly to brash language.

He then remembers the hearty chuckle on the other end. "No I'm not fucking drunk 'fish, I'm excited! I just ran into one of my old college buddies-"

"Do you mean fuck buddies?" Frankie teases, letting out a quiet laugh as he hears a scoff on the other end of the line.

"No you idiot! I didn't sleep with every girl I knew back then, I know it's hard to believe," Frankie lets out a loud laugh, "I ran into an old friend of mine who went to law school, and let's just say she owes me a favor and she agreed to take on your case! Fish? Frankie?"

The pilot drops the phone as soon as the words are processed.

He has another chance. Another chance to see Ava and his baby girl. A chance to get them both back into his life for good this time, now that he has detoxed and spent his time working on his coping strategies.

They could be back in his arms once again.

"Mr. Morales? Mr. Garcia? She's ready for you."

"It's go time." Santi nods, standing up out of his seat and motioning for the pilot to follow him.

The pair make their way down the white and bright hallways of the law offices, walking past several cubicles full of lawyers and other workers chatting away before coming to an office with a glass door at the end of the hallway.

Frankie nervously plays with his fingers as Santi knocks on the door, hearing a soft "come in" from the otherside.

He follows the black haired man into the office and freezes in his tracks when he sees you get up from your desk and rush to pull Santi into a hug. He tries to keep his eyes from widening like a cartoon character but he can't help it - Santi didn't mention how gorgeous you are.

He listens to you both talk for a few moments before you reach your hand out and introduce yourself, a light smile playing at your lips. Frankie nods and takes your smaller hand in his before watching you go back to your desk. You open your laptop and pull out the file your assistant gathered on the details of the previous case.

"Mr. Mora-"

"You can call me Frankie," the pilot interjects, his cheeks turning red as you nod and take a mental note of that. "Frankie, do you want to start off at the start of your story for me? I always find it more beneficial to ask from the client's perspective about the details of the case, it makes a stronger case," you say, picking up a pen and looking at the brunette sitting across from you.

Frankie lets out a small cough and takes a soft breath in before laying his cards out on the table.

Santi stays quiet in the seat next to him, nodding along at the details of the story and offering a comforting hand on the back as one of his closest friends speaks about some of the darkest points in his life with you as if you have known him as long as you have known him.

It takes about 45 minutes of Frankie's explanations and your questioning to get all of the information you need for the initial meeting, making notes of the progress the pilot has made within the inpatient treatment center as well as Santi's testimony. You put your files away in the folder on your desk and stand up, making your way over to the two soldiers and giving them each a handshake, telling them both that you feel extremely confident in this case, and that you can't wait to help Frankie get his family back.

You can't miss the way he breaks out into a grin, probably one of the first genuine ones in a while, and you see Santi nod his head approvingly at you before giving you a quick "thanks" as the two begin to stand up and walk towards your door. 

Before they leave you quickly call out to Frankie, who turns around quickly and his chocolate brown eyes lock with yours.

"What's your daughter's name?" You ask softly, watching as his posture relaxes at the mention of his pride and joy. He reaches into one of his back pockets of his jeans and pulls out a small photo from his wallet and hands it to you.

You look over the tiny photo - it must have been from the day she was born. Her big brown eyes are the same as her father's, a small smile on her face.

"Her name is Eleanor, Eleanor Luciana," he smiles, a small tear welling up in the corner of his right eye.

A smile plays at your lips as you see the absolute adoration in his eyes as he talks about her.

You know you have to win this case.

You spend the next 3 months prepping for the case.

You know this process is not an easy one, especially for Frankie. At first, he came to your office twice a week in the afternoon right after his NA meetings, most times with Santi in tow. It was awkward at first for sure - I mean it isn't fun working with a lawyer about the bad choices he had made or the fact of the matter that he feels like a piece of him has died since he has been away from his family.

Santi helped ease the tension.

When it got hard for Frankie to talk about some of the details of his drug use, or the fights he had with Ava, Santi was there to help ease the conversation and help Frankie get through it. It helped that the two knew each other like the back of their hands, with Santi being able to crack a joke at a moment's notice and bring the pilot back down to the ground.

It was when Santi brought up old memories of your time back in college that you heard real laughter from the brunette.

They weren't your proudest memories, but the way that Frankie laughed at you and Santi's old college stories brought a smile to your face and gave you a feeling of butterflies in your stomach that you didn't want to go away. You knew deep down you shouldn't feel those butterflies, especially when dealing with a client, but something about the pilot made your heart flutter.

But the minute you would feel the butterflies, like after Frankie gave you a compliment about your outfit, you would feel the guilt wash over you in waves. Frankie was a father, a former husband who was working with you in order to win back his ex. How could you feel this way about a man who was fighting through hell to get his family back.

You were just his lawyer.

Seeing him open up each time he came into your office was something that struck you deep down, knowing that being this vulnerable is something that he doesn't take lightly. 

The two of you continue meeting twice a week after NA, with Frankie telling you about his feelings from his meeting and talking about his goals for this upcoming trial.

You continue preparing him with questions you know will be brought up by the family court judge, focusing on his plans for the future after his discharge from the inpatient center, focusing on the changes in behavior he has made of the past few months. His answers become more confident the harder you work, and you feel your heart start to swell as he talks about how excited he is to see his baby girl again.

But you also feel pain in your heart at the thought of the man before you leaving your life after this week.

It's the Friday night before the trial, a night you typically take off early on, but tonight is different.

Frankie was sitting here in your office earlier this week when he casually mentioned that he was getting his 6 month sober chip on Friday. Upon hearing this news you gasp and stand up from your desk, your feet carrying you over towards him before you could even register what you are doing - suddenly you realize that you have pulled him into your arms.

Frankie is shocked at first, a small "oof" escaping his lips as you held onto him, but he is grateful you cannot see the blush rising on his cheeks.

You quickly pull yourself back and subconsciously smoothing out your light green work pants before taking a step back. "I'm so proud of you 'Cat, that's so amazing!" You smile, brushing a piece of hair back behind your ear.

The pilot nods, a small smile playing at his lips.

"How about you come here on friday. You, me and Santi can have some pizza and a beer to celebrate," you suggest, watching as Frankie furrows his brow before letting out a chuckle.

"You don't ask all of your clients to have a pizza party in your office after hours do you?" He laughs, taking his hat off and fixing his brown locks before sliding it back on his head.

"I can't say that I do, but this is what Santi and I would do back in the day to celebrate, so why not celebrate this achievement before we get in the courtroom." 

You chuckle, remembering the days spent in the shitty apartment Santi had off campus. "Alright I'm in." Frankie smiles, "I'll bring the beers."

That night the three of you sit on the floor of your office like kids and chuckle at old stories, both from college and from the boy's times spent overseas. You watch as Frankie laughs at something Santi says and you feel the pain in your heart return, knowing that in a few short days your client would be back to his old life, and you would be stuck here back in the real world at your job. You know it's wrong, but these past months have been different than any other case you have taken on.

You know Frankie is going to be able to go back to his family after all of this - he is stronger than when this whole ordeal started and he has the support to prevent another relapse. 

Hell, you are proud of him outside of work, knowing this process wasn't easy - but the idea of this man walking out of your life brings you sadness. Knowing he won't be in your office twice a week for hours, cracking jokes and talking about nothing in particular towards the end. 

Sometimes you wonder what things would be like if you met under other circumstances. Maybe you two would have a shot - walking hand in hand at the local farmer's market, singing karaoke at the bar with Santi, Benny and Will, or even going on a flight with him.

You even opened up to him, telling him things even Santi doesn't know. But you need to remember why you are here - to win this for your client.

"Mr. Morales, after going over the details of this case, I see the dedication you have made towards your rehabilitation and future. I have talked with the treatment team at Maple Grove rehabilitation as well as your NA sponsor, and based on all of the information I have gathered is that you are fit to have custody of your daughter. You will now have shared custody of Eleanor Luciana Morales."

Before you can properly process the words of the judge, you feel two strong arms wrap around your torso and lift you in the air. You feel a blush come over your cheeks as you hear Frankie saying "thank you" over and over again as he sets you back down on the ground.

You both simultaneously pull back and hide your blushes as you thank the judge for his discretion and you faintly hear the bang of the gavel in the background as the court is dismissed.

You don't miss the way Ava storms out of the courtroom with her family and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Santi walks over to the two of you and pulls you both into a hug, rubbing a hand comfortingly up and down your back and thanking you for everything you did.

You nod as Santi pulls back and turns to his brother in arms, chatting about something you can't quite hear as you begin to pack up your white briefcase, pausing when you see a photo of Ellie on the table.

Since the beginning of the trial Frankie felt the nerves wash over him as this suddenly felt so real. You had suggested that he bring in a picture of Eleanor to place on the table so that whenever he became nervous, he could look down and see who he was doing this all for. Seeing the photo now brings tears to the corners of your eyes and you close up your briefcase - turning around to see that Santi has left the courtroom, just leaving you and Frankie.

"I just wanted to say thank you, for everything," he says softly, nervously scratching at the hair at the nape of his neck.

You nod curtly, trying to ignore the sore feeling in your throat - a telltale sign that you were about to cry.

Frankie tilts his head in confusion and walks closer, reaching out and grabbing your smaller hands in his. "I mean it - you have helped me through this whole process, and you are the reason I get to see Eleanor again, and for that I cannot thank you enough."

His words cut through you like knives - you knew this was coming. Your job is over, and it's time for him to move on.

"All in a day's work," you chuckle quietly, having to look down at your shoes to avoid letting the tears fall.

You suddenly feel softy fingers tilt your head up. Blinking through your lashes you see the pilot looking at you with only adoration in his eyes. You lock onto his chocolate orbs and nod slightly as he moves closer, softly crashing your lips against his.

You feel his strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling him flush against his chest in a soft yet comforting way. You find yourself getting lost in the moment, one of your hands tangling in his hair as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

A moment later you both pull away, leaning your forehead against his as he lets out a small chuckle.

"I've been wanting to do that forever," he smiles, locking eyes with you once again, "I had to wait until I wasn't your client anymore, I didn't want to make it awkward or unethical."

You smile at his confession, brushing a piece of his brunette locks out of his eyes.

"Well now that you are no longer my client, would you like to go grab a beer?" You ask, looking at the way his eyes light up at your question.

"I would love that."

He watches as you grab your briefcase and wraps an arm around your waist as the two of you head for the courtroom doors.

He feels his heart swell in his chest knowing he not only has Eleanor back in his life, but now he has you too.

taglist: @hailmary-yramliah​ @babyprim​ @shadowolf993​ @jasterslegacy​ @collectorofexperiences​

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish Morales x reader #triple frontier #pedro pascal characters #my writing

[duelistkingdom]

you’d come back to me

chapter three: anew

[first chapter] [previous chapter] [master list] [next chapter] [read on ao3]

Summary: Seto Kaiba has been presumed dead for four years after the events of Dark Side of Dimensions. His return causes both unresolved feelings of grief to be brought to the surface and the past to be dragged right back up. In hopes of helping Seto move on and reintegrate back into society at large, Mokuba asks Yugi to work on Spherium II with Seto. Never one to leave a friend hanging, Yugi agrees. Over the course of the project, Seto and Yugi both come to terms with their mutual grief and grow towards a better understanding of each other.

Rating: T

Ships: Yugi Mutou/Seto Kaiba, Mokuba Kaiba/Rebecca Hopkins, Katusya Jonouchi/Mai Kujaku

Warnings: aged up characters, grief, references to suicide

consider supporting me on kofi

“I sold the mansion.”

That was the only explanation Mokuba gave when they drove the wrong way home from the hospital when Seto was eventually released. He supposed as far as explanations go, it was a good one. “Then where do you live?”

“In a one bedroom apartment in downtown Domino,” Mokuba said, texting someone. Whoever it was was labeled as ‘loml’. Who was Loml? The person’s grasp on Japanese was shaky and substituted English words in quotes, leading Kaiba to believe Loml was probably foreign. Mokuba had texted that he had picked up Seto. Before Seto could read further, Mokuba pulled the phone out of his line of sight. “Stop reading my text messages or I’ll drop you off at a hotel.”

“Maybe I’d prefer a hotel,” Seto grumbled. He was annoyed that it had taken so long to discharge him. He wasn’t sure why they felt the need to keep him for observation for almost a month. “I don’t see why I have to sleep on your couch.”

“The doctor thinks that you would heal better under supervision from family, since your concussion didn’t heal as well as it should have,” Mokuba countered, exchanging a glance with Isono briefly. Seto still thought the doctor had been off base for insisting that his concussion was still persistent. As far as Seto was concerned, he’d already healed. He felt great. He was certain Mokuba was keeping something from him, but he didn’t know what. “Plus… I’m worried about you. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“And as for why I can’t drive?”

“Your license expired while you were gone,” Isono interjected, another shared glance with Mokuba that frustrated Seto. “You will need to get a new one, Mr. Kaiba.”

“Things like that tend to happen when you’re gone for four years, bro,” Mokuba said, the word “bro” sounding a little strained. Seto hadn’t wanted to notice before that Mokuba seemed a little stiffer than he used to. He noticed now. It was impossible to not notice the way Mokuba was trying so hard to pretend like four years hadn’t disappeared. Every time the missing years were mentioned, Mokuba tried to change the subject. Mokuba forced a grin. “Means you got a lot of catching up to do!”

He didn’t know how to respond to that so he didn’t.

The apartment complex Isono drove them to was clean and modern. It was also a lot more vertical than he would have thought when Mokuba had mentioned living in a one bedroom apartment. He wasn’t certain what he’d expected, but the building looked more like a skyscraper than a place of residence. “I’ll take care of making sure Mr. Kaiba’s things get here,” Isono said to Mokuba. “For now, you should make sure he gets settled.”

Mokuba nodded. “Thank you, Isono,” he said as Isono parked the car in front of a set of elevators. “Come on, bro. The elevators will take us right outside my door.”

“Is that safe?”

Mokuba laughed as he pulled out what looked to be a key card. “You can only get to the floor if you have a key,” he said. “I’ll have Isono get you a key later.”

The elevator doors slid open and Seto was taken aback by how industrial it looked. He followed Mokuba’s lead, though. It was strange to think of Mokuba living in a place like this by himself. Why did he sell the mansion? Was it just too tied to bad memories? Had he always wanted to sell the mansion? A bunch of questions that Seto had no answer for and had no intention of voicing aloud. Mokuba swiped a card that had “home” written on it in someone else’s handwriting and pressed a button for the fifteenth floor. That was high up. It was also… Seto pushed the thought aside.

The entranceway to Mokuba’s front door was grandiose, too. A couple of plants surrounded them on slick marble tiles and a picture of the Golden Gate bridge existed to his left on linen white walls. To his right, a bunch of pictures of various horses were all over the wall with gold placards underneath that he didn’t bother to read. He noted the source of light - a glass chandelier with gold trim. A couple of photos of Mokuba with Yugi and his friends, a couple pictures of a blonde girl that looked a lot like Rebecca Hopkins with her arm thrown around Mokuba… though… When did Mokuba start to like horses so much? Has he always liked horses? He didn’t have long to process the photos when his brother opened the door to the foyer. Natural light from the windows drifted right into the foyer, illuminating that the place was spotless.

It opened right into the living room, which had a massive L shaped couch in front of a large TV. The TV had a lot of game consoles hooked up to it, Seto noted. Another thing he noted was that it seemed like the place was designed to entertain guests. The foyer opening into the living room was just the start of it. The only thing that separated the living room from the kitchen to the left was a bar that had fresh cut flowers and bar stools lining it. Wine glasses hung above the bar and seemed to have a lot of light sources. There was a spiral staircase by the kitchen that led right up into a lofty area above them. “The room’s upstairs,” Mokuba said quietly as he hung his key on a rack. “There’s a guest bathroom over there,” Mokuba remarked as he pointed to a hallway to the left. “But it doesn’t have a shower, so you’ll have to use the shower in my bedroom. Don’t use the bathtub.”

A strange request but Kaiba felt no need to pry. “So you don’t often have people stay the night?”

“Wouldn’t say that,” Mokuba said. “C’mon, I’ll show you where the shower is.”

Once again, he was following Mokuba. There was a series of framed photographs on the wall on the way to the bedroom. One appeared to be a picture of Professor Hopkins and Sugoruko Mutou but… maybe a few years younger? Why would Mokuba have this? A photo of Mokuba with Rebecca Hopkins from the KC Grand Prix was prominently framed in the center of the hallway. In fact, it seemed like all the photos were designed to draw the eye to this one photo. Perhaps his friendship with Rebecca was much closer than Seto had originally thought. Then again… he hadn’t really been paying attention.

Mokuba opened the bedroom door and once again, natural light streamed everywhere. An ornate desk sat in front of the windows with a stack of engineering books and sticky notes that seemed much taller than he would think possible. A bookcase was next to it with thick, heavy textbooks that had pieces of paper sticking out of each of them. One of the shelves had multicolor binders in no particular order that Seto could see. In the middle of the room was a large, ornate, king sized bed with two oak nightstands on either side. One was just as messy as the desk, with a leather bound journal resting on top of the mess with a cup of pens near it. He was surprised the lamp on that nightstand hadn’t been knocked off by the mess. The other was neat with a single lamp on it. Seto frowned as he noted the size of the bed. “Why would you need a bed this size?”

“I mean,” Mokuba said, looking a little awkward before turning away to lead Seto towards another door, “it’s not just me sleeping there.”

Seto frowned, following Mokuba through the new door into the bathroom. Once again, it seemed a little bit much. Two sinks. One sink free of clutter, the other with a toothbrush, a hairbrush, and an eyelash curler left out. “Who else would sleep here?”

“My girlfriend,” Mokuba said as he gestured towards the shower. “Here’s the shower. Towels are in there,” he remarked as he pointed towards a plain white cupboard. “There’s also extra toilet paper. Don’t use her towels. You’ll know they’re hers because they’re all monogrammed with her initials.”

“Right. Those photos of that Hopkins girl.” Seto frowned. “It must be serious if she’s living with you.”

“It is rather serious.” Mokuba seemed on the verge of saying something else but shrugged it off. “Rebecca’s rather finicky with her things. Don’t use them. Anyway, I'm going to leave you to take your shower cause I should get back to work. Isono will be around to check on you and Rebecca should be home when she’s done with her classes. Be nice to her.”

 “I see you decided to come back.”

Seto glared at Dr. Reiki. It wasn’t that Seto had decided to come back. “My brother seems to think that before I can be cleared for work, I need to attend these sessions,” Seto said, crossing his arms and glancing out the window. This time, he did not care about whatever game Reiki was playing. He wanted to make it as clear as possible that he did not want to be here. “Thus, here I am.”

“So the only reason you are here is to be cleared for work?”

Once again, the doctor had taken to making this seem like a game. It was impossible for Seto to tell how Dr. Reiki felt about his statement. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond. “Tch,” Seto said as he looked away from the therapist. “I suppose so.”

“I see. If that’s the case, then tell me about your relationship with Mokuba,” Dr. Reiki said, leaning back in his chair. Seto hated that Reiki always seemed so at ease within these four walls while Seto struggled to find his footing. “I know I’ve spoken with Mokuba already but…. I am curious as to how you’d describe it.”

Seto arched his brow at the doctor. “Fine,” he said, carefully choosing his words. “When our parents died, we were shuffled around from relative to relative. None of them wanted extra mouths to feed. They were more than happy to spend our inheritance, however. They kept that but dumped us at the orphanage. I knew it was my responsibility to look after Mokuba because  no one else would. I… made mistakes in raising him. I know that now. I regret how harsh I was. I… only meant to protect him.”

He cut himself as he registered Reiki taking notes. Reiki looked up when Seto stopped talking. “Don’t worry about the notes, Seto,” he said. Kaiba squashed down the desire to demand that Reiki be more formal. “This is part of the standard procedure to clear any patient to return to work. Please, continue.”

“Right,” Seto said, glancing up at the degree that Reiki held again. It was from Harvard. He supposed it made sense that Reiki went to a western school for this line of work. This did, in fact, relax Seto a little bit. At least his therapist was the best. “It was just Mokuba and I after my adoptive father died. Only Mokuba really knew the truth of what happened while everyone else…”

“Everyone else…,” Reiki prompted when Seto trailed off. Seto glared at him and glanced around. “This is a safe space, Seto. Nothing you say will leave these four walls.”

“Everyone else believes I killed my adoptive father,” Seto admitted, leaning back, leaving out the fact that there were days when he wished he had. He doubted that would help in his quest to be cleared to go back to work. “Mokuba knows that isn’t true. Still, he knew it was true that I could be, can be… Ruthless. Some people considered me to be cold and calculative, so the rumor persisted. Still persists, truthfully.”

Seto trailed off again, wondering if he was saying the right things. It was difficult to strike a line here. He still had no idea what Reiki was after to  clear him for work. The therapist offered no hints.

“It makes sense that you were ruthless. Public record states that you became president of Kaiba Corp when you were only 15,” Reiki remarked. “You must have had to be cutthroat. I would imagine there were plenty of people seeking to take advantage of your youth and naivety - something you more than likely couldn’t afford. Tell me, how did you feel about those rumors?”

For a moment, Seto was dangerously close to answering. Before he admitted to anything, Seto caught himself. “What does this have to do with me getting cleared for work?”

Reiki’s mouth twitched into a smile. “In order to be certain you’re ready to return, I need to get a feel for what your work history is. How you see the company and how it affects you,” he said and Seto resented that he sounded like he was trying to coax a deer to him. “After all, the concern is that work might do more harm than good right now.”

Seto considered this for a moment. Finally, he gave a soft “tch” before crossing his arms. “I didn’t appreciate them,” Seto admitted. “It seemed like everyone was more concerned about the potential soap opera than the fact that I’d been orphaned again. My adoptive father was not a good man and do not misunderstand me, I am not saddened by his death. However… no one seemed to care that I was fifteen and without a father again. That left me, to be a CEO and president of a multi billion dollar corporation, and a father to my younger brother.”

“You considered yourself to be the parent?”

“I had to,” Seto sniffed. “There was simply no one else who would. So I had to step up to the plate to make sure Mokuba was taken care of.”

Reiki frowned as he glanced over his notes. “I will admit that makes sense as a motivation,” Reiki said slowly. “What I’m having trouble understanding is why did you abandon him for four years if you felt that it was your duty to be a father Mokuba? Could it be that perhaps you were following the only model for a father you had?”

Seto bristled. “I did not intend to leave him for four years,” Seto hissed. “That was the result of an error in programming. I was supposed to return mere moments after I left.”

The therapist nodded again and jotted something else down. Again, Seto longed to know what the therapist was writing. He badly wanted to correct anything Reiki may have misunderstood. “Well. I think we have made some decent progress today,” Reiki said. “How about we meet again in two weeks?”

As much as Seto wanted to argue, he wound up agreeing instead.

 Yugi had been staring at the code for the AI for the past few hours now. He’d clipped his hair up earlier in a desperate attempt to keep his bangs out of his face. They still liked to land in front of his face. He’d figured it was safe to work on this project now because Mokuba was out picking up Seto. From what, Mokuba never said. He wasn’t expecting Mokuba to come back to work.

It’s why he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard, “So you know about the AI project Seto was working on before he left.”

For a moment, he wanted to ask how Mokuba knew about it. It was a stupid question. Obviously Mokuba knew more about what Seto had been doing before he left than Yugi ever did. Yugi sighed and nodded. “I stumbled across it a few weeks ago,” Yugi admitted, leaning back in his chair. The code was more complex than he was used to. “Why did Kaiba make it so you have to duel it to leave that room?”

Mokuba sighed, resting against the wall. Yugi thought it was greatly unfair that Mokuba shot up to six foot while Yugi was still stuck at five foot eight. He remembered when Mokuba was only barely shorter than him by an inch. Then again… he also remembered when Seto was willing to die for Mokuba. Willing to traumatize him to save Mokuba. It seemed to Yugi that a lot had changed in Seto. “He was obsessed,” Mokuba said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to shut it down… it was the last thing Seto made before…”

When he trailed off, Yugi couldn’t fault him. Mokuba had managed to deal with the fact that Seto had vanished off the face of the Earth for the past four years. The cracks in Mokuba’s facade were easy to see through but Yugi didn’t want to press. As much as Yugi wanted to help, he knew that it would be better to let Mokuba come to terms with his feelings before unpacking them. “It’s okay,” Yugi said. “I imagine it wasn’t supposed to be easy to find.”

“You know, all the people that had been working on it thought it was supposed to be of you,” Mokuba said suddenly, a light smile as if this was deeply hilarious. “One of them asked me why he didn’t just go down the street and ask you for a duel. Another asked if you were actually that ripped.”

Yugi laughed, shaking his head. “I mean, if they want to believe I look that good,” Yugi said, trying to keep the conversation light. “I was just… noting the differences between how the AI acted and how Atem… actually acted.”

“Seto insisted it was perfect,” Mokuba said, folding his arms over his chest and closing himself off. Turns out, there was little difference between the Kaiba brothers when they were distancing themselves from him. “It was based on his memories of how the Pharaoh acted.”

“Atem,” Yugi corrected, a knee jerk reaction. “That explains why it’s not… it doesn’t act like Atem,” Yugi said with a sigh. “Kaiba never saw Atem outside of a Duel. I did. He… he was conflicted. Complex. He carried a lot of guilt with him. He…” Yugi trailed off as he noted the look on Mokuba’s face. While there was little chance he’d shown his hand, Mokuba still looked sympathetic. Yugi’s face burned as he realized that no matter how much he moved on, the fact remained that he still loved Atem and it must have shown in how he spoke about Atem. Yugi was certain that some part of him would always love Atem. It was unimportant to this conversation, however. “It was just a lot to see something look so much like Atem and almost act like him but… not quite him.”

“You could fix it,” Mokuba noted, a cautious note in his voice. The statement hung in the air before Mokuba added on, “However.... It would be smarter to just leave it, right?”

Yugi nodded thoughtfully. He could, indeed, work with Mokuba and learn the coding behind the AI. He could certainly adjust the AI so it acted more like Atem. All these things were absolutely possible. However… “If Kaiba duels this AI again,” Yugi said slowly, an idea forming in his head, “I could change its deck. I mean, it’d be more like Atem in that sense. Atem and I always built our deck together. So the real way to start fixing how the AI acts is… for me to build it a new deck. Right?”

A grin split across Mokuba’s face. “Yugi, are you suggesting that we fuck with it?”

Yugi turned to look at the AI’s code before nodding. “I am absolutely suggesting that we fuck with it.”

 Seto was trying to figure out what he should do since Reiki had refused to clear him to work again. He browsed a few Dueling sites to kill time. He knew that things had to have changed since he left. He knew that the meta for Duel Monsters most likely was different and if he wanted to keep up, he’d have to look into the new strategies.

This was, of course, just a distraction. He didn’t want to check his email. His old burner account had to be worthless by now so he set up new burner account. He was annoyed to discover the user “saggithedarkclown” was taken and the person who owned it wouldn’t give it up without payment.

After a minor argument with himself, he bought the username while mentally cursing them for taking the username in the first place. He supposed the real joke was on him for actually paying for it, though. From there, he was able to poke around at the current meta and see what had changed.

As much as the format of the game had changed, it would seem that Yugi was still the undefeated champion. Still the King of Games. There were a couple photos of Yugi at previous exhibition matches with similar determined expressions and the same leather pants he remembered Yugi wearing at Battle City. Or well… the other Yugi, anyway. Additionally, it seemed like people now paid money to view Yugi’s various decks. Seto didn’t know how he felt about that.

He noted the new support cards for his deck and was disgusted to see that Pegasus had reprint the Blue Eyes White Dragon cards during his absence. It felt almost mocking. As if the minute he turned his back, Pegasus took advantage. He knew it was a ridiculous reaction. They were, after all, the intellectual property of Industrial Illusions and Pegasus was free to reprint whatever he saw fit. It still did not make Seto feel any better about it.

There were also new methods of summoning. He’d found a couple videos of Jonouchi, Yugi, and Mai all using the new summoning methods. He’d have to figure out how they worked. Synchro vaguely reminded him of ritual summoning so that might be the easiest to pick up. As for XYZ and Link, however, Seto couldn’t exactly figure them out. As far as he could tell, special summoning was now a major component of the game.

The deeper he  dove, the more he learned about tournaments in the previous four years. It seemed that somehow Jonouchi managed to become a competitive giant. Another thing Seto didn’t know how he felt about. Jonouchi, when Seto had left, was merely a mild irritant who was not as good as he or Yugi. He’d missed seeing a former annoyance climb his way through the ranks. It was a strange thing to realize.

He also noted that Yugi’s last real tournament entry was two years ago. His victory was a surprise to no one. Seto noted that Yugi seemed a little distracted when he won. He wondered what Yugi was thinking at that moment.

Seto was fixating. He wanted to know why Yugi had stopped entering tournaments. Did he think himself too good to Duel? If Seto entered a tournament, would Yugi enter? Did Yugi feel he had nothing left to prove? That would make sense, after all.

A ping pulled him out from his distraction. A message from someone using the handle “kc_blimp” was left on one of his posts about wanting to get back in the game after a three year break . He was surprised to see that the user had left a long and in depth explanation about the new summoning mechanics. He’d have to test them out himself. He was also surprised to see the user noted that Duels tend to be faster with ten turns being “long duels” by modern standards and to expect stall techniques to not work as well as they did four years ago. How much had the game changed in his absence?

Unfortunately for him, there was only one way to have some of his questions answered. He sent the user a private message,

He got a phone call from Pegasus, which he ignored.

 For the past few months, Seto had not once seen Rebecca. He knew she came home occasionally because every single time Rebecca had been in the apartment, there would be a messy table left behind. Rebecca had no concept of how to keep a room clean and it was slowly driving Seto crazy.

The door unlocked and Seto expected to see Mokuba enter. He was not expecting to see a blonde woman that was wearing a denim skirt, a bright blue shirt, and a blue headband walk in. She seemed to be carrying dozens of paper bags and had a heavy looking backpack slung on one shoulder. “Oh, hi, Seto,” she said, kicking the door closed with one of her sharp looking heels. “Are you going to just stand around or are you going to help me with the groceries?”

At first, Seto was appalled by the gall of this woman to just walk into the apartment and address him by first name. It took a moment for him to realize that yes, this was indeed Rebecca Hopkins. She… expected him to help? “Why didn’t you get Isono to take care of that?”

Rebecca sighed as she dumped the bags on the dining table and tossed her backpack right at him. It hit him in the stomach and he nearly doubled over. How did she carry this? The bag felt like it weighed as much as she must. “Unlike you, I do not expect others to take care of me,” she said as she began unloading one of the bags. He was surprised to see so many processed snacks. There was no way Mokuba ate that crap, right? “Seriously, are you going to help or what?”

“Why did you buy so many chips,” he said, alarmed as he set the backpack down then headed over to examine the groceries. At least one bag had vegetables and another had fruits in it, thankfully. The next bag was full of sweets, however… “You don’t need this much sweets.”

“How the fuck do you think I’m going to get through this bitch of a thesis paper,” Rebecca retorted, looking at him as if he’d asked her if Luster Dragon was a normal monster. “Not all of us get handed a company at fifteen, you know. Some of us actually have to work for what we get.”

He was surprised at how blunt she was. This was the girl that Mokuba was dating? She seemed a little rude. No, that was putting it too nicely. Rebecca Hopkins was an absolute nightmare. Had she always been like this? He answered his own question when he remembered that of course she was nasty - she was American. He was surprised at how well she spoke Japanese, however. “Since when did you know how to swear in Japanese,” Seto asked. The last time he’d seen her, her go to choice of swear words was ‘goddamn’ in English peppered into badly spoken Japanese. “Why are you here in Japan?”

“I’m getting my PhD in Engineering from the University of Tokyo,” Rebecca said, rolling her eyes as she put the chips in one of the cupboards.

Seto had never opened any of the cupboards in the kitchen. He was surprised to see they were organized. He was even more surprised that Rebecca was following the system the kitchen had.

“I have to know how to speak Japanese in order to attend,” she went on, “considering all my professors speak it. And Mokie taught me.”

Mokie? Did she refer to his brother with a cutesy nickname? Seto was appalled by her. “Sorry, did you say your PhD?” Seto asked as realization set in “Aren’t you nineteen?”

“I started college when I was thirteen.. And I’m actually twenty, so show some respect,” she said, her bright blue eyes glancing up at him sharply and rather dismissively. “Seriously, if you aren’t going to help put things away, why are you here? The meat goes in the fridge, the sweets go in that cupboard, the dips go over there, the wine goes in the wine cooler. Hurry up!”

Since she clearly wasn’t going to let this go, Seto took the bag full of fish, chicken, pork, and what appeared to be a well-marbled steak. Did she cook? She didn’t seem like the kind of person who cooked. He opened the fridge for the first time and noted it was neat. Considering how Rebecca’s desk and nightstand looked, Seto could only deduce either someone was hired to cook or Mokuba cooked. He didn’t know if Mokuba could cook. How could he not know if his brother cooked or not? He made a mental note to avoid mentioning this to his doctor during his next check up, lest they subject him to more tests again. “You do all the grocery shopping?”

“Sometimes Mokie does it since he does all the cooking,” Rebecca said as she started putting away the wine. “But since he’s busy with work, I thought I’d make life easier for him and pick up the groceries. Plus… his birthday’s coming up! I wanted to do something nice for him.”

Mokuba’s birthday was coming up? Had he been back in this world for that long already? He hadn’t bothered keeping track of the days. If Mokuba’s birthday was coming up soon enough for her to be thinking about it… it would have to be June, right? He didn’t want to ask. “So what are you doing for his birthday?”

“Don’t worry about me, worry about you,” Rebecca said, her hands planted on the table as she glared at him. “What did you get him to make up for what you did?”

Seto was taken entirely aback. He wasn’t expecting to meet Rebecca today, much less be confronted about what he’d done. He was nervous now. Were Rebecca’s eyes always this icy? He didn’t know it was possible for one person to look this cold. “Er,” Seto said, stumbling over himself. He looked away from her harsh gaze. “I didn’t get him anything.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “You can pick up the cake, then,” she said, as if it wasn’t up for discussion. He certainly wasn’t about to interject that he didn’t know how to pick up a cake from a bakery. He always had Isono deal with that sort of thing. “I’ve been planning Mokie’s birthday for the past three months and you are not about to ruin it by showing up empty handed. I’ll email you the information about the bakery and where to go.” With that, she’d finished unpacking the rest of the groceries. Seto had barely helped at all but that didn’t seem to matter. She picked up her backpack, tossing it over her shoulder, and moved toward the stairs. “I’m going to go do my homework. Don’t bother me.”

He wouldn’t dream of it.

 For the most part, Mokuba really was okay. He swore it up and down to anyone who asked. But there was a strange feeling in his heart when he looked at his brother. It was like he was being ripped apart to see him looking exactly as he did four years ago when he told him “you’re in charge, Mokuba” before leaving him. He wiped away the tears.

He was okay. He would make himself be okay, he thought idly as he glanced at the mirror in the private bathroom attached to his office. Kaiba Corporation CEOs did not cry, he reminded himself. They did not let things like this tear them down. He held himself high, adjusting his tie. 

He knew what Yugi would say.

That it was okay to cry. That it was okay to be upset. Well, Yugi was wrong. Mokuba couldn’t let anyone see that this rattled him. He’d seen how Kaiba Corporation CEO’s were supposed to act and he would follow it to the letter even as it ripped him apart. He left the bathroom, striding with purpose. Showing weakness would be the same thing as death.

Rebecca knew something was wrong. She always seemed to know when Mokuba wasn’t okay. Thankfully, her classes kept her busy and he never had to face how he really felt for too long. If she was around more often, she might have demanded that he actually go see a therapist again. He’d been doing so good that he hadn’t needed it. Though, to be fair, he’d already insisted prior that Kaibas don’t go to therapy. He almost grinned thinking about how she’d reacted to that.

Despite this, when Yugi had discovered the AI, it changed a lot of things. For one, he now spent extra time trying to pick apart the code with Yugi in Yugi’s office. It was far more complex than anything he’d ever seen and he was amazed Yugi could even keep up.

Yugi had already proven himself an intuitive coder, though. He supposed it would make sense that Yugi would be smart enough to figure out the strange lines of code. “I think this right here is supposed to be based on one of the Battle City duels,” Yugi said with a frown as he examined a complex string of code that seemed to be its own thing. “Kaiba doesn’t like to organize his codes, does he?”

“I think it is organized,” Mokuba said, sitting down in one of the chairs in Yugi’s office. He ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to work through lines. The flags for the reactions seemed to change on their own, as if the code itself was alive. Or maybe Mokuba was finally going crazy. He and Yugi had already spent so long trying to figure out how to adjust just one facet of the AI’s personality that Yugi had noted was off. “It’s just in a way we haven’t figured out yet.”

“So the solution is to think like Kaiba,” Yugi said with a defeated sigh. Mokuba didn’t get why that seemed to be a problem for Yugi. There was once a time when Yugi could easily dissect his brother and accurately deduce what he was thinking. Unless… unless maybe he was mixing up Yugi and Atem again. “If I were Kaiba and I wanted to build a complex AI that could think for itself while dueling… I might…” Yugi’s brow furrowed. “Hm… what if the reason that’s off is because…”

Yugi did something and strangely, the code jumped down several lines in response. Mokuba sat up straighter as he examined the new spot they were in. “He attached that reaction to that,” Mokuba remarked, a little stunned. “Why would he do that?”

“Same old Kaiba,” Yugi remarked. “I think he may have put a lot of important flags behind the Dueling operation. He really did only intend to use this as a Dueling simulator, huh?”

“Before he left, he was planning on creating a virtual world in which Duelists could enter and challenge virtual Duelists. The project was basically complete but never went past the beta stage,” Mokuba remarked, fiddling with the code just a little bit more. He didn’t know if  what they were doing was wise but he knew that if they could make improvements… maybe they could follow up on a project Seto left behind. “A way for everyone to enjoy the game and get better at it. Do you think that it might be a problem if we…”

“Probably,” Yugi said with a shrug. “But if we’re going to give it new decks to play against Kaiba, we need to make sure that the AI can play them optimally.”

“And you don’t think this code could do it?”

He felt offended on behalf of his brother. Yugi had to know that Seto had poured everything into this program. It was supposed to perfectly replicate Seto’s memories of Atem. He was annoyed when Yugi shook his head. “This code’s missing what made Atem such a good Duelist,” Yugi said, a light grin across his face. “A bit of me.”

“This code is designed to perfectly replicate Atem as Seto remembers him and Duel with his exact strategies,” Mokuba said, well aware it wasn’t the best defense of the code. After all… he had to admit that no one knew Atem like Yugi did. “Are you saying Seto doesn’t remember how Atem duels?”

“No,” Yugi said, an odd look crossing his face. “Kaiba dismissed me as a potential rival, remember,” Yugi said, and Mokuba vaguely remembered that. “He probably didn’t think that I contributed much to those Duels, I guess. But we can fix that.”

Mokuba figured that if anyone could fix the AI, it would absolutely be Yugi.

#fic: you'd come back to me #sorry i fell asleep instead of posting the next chapter on time #but hello it is here #rivalshipping #rivalshipping fanfic #myfanfic

[ikingsley]

Ina x MC: Sabbatical (Part 3)

Ina x MC: Sabbatical (Part 3)

Read the first two parts here: Sabbatical (Part 1) & Sabbatical (Part 2).

Summary: Ina attempts to reclaim her woman.

Warnings: I’m gonna call it angsty fluff. But more fluff this time.

Tag: @samanthadalton @domakir @kulaykape @hellyeah90sbaby @dopeyouth @kwaj05 @thedaft1 @swimmingshoebakerydreamer

Author’s Notes: Third part/finale of the Sabbatical series that was requested by @kwaj05.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Ina finally got back to her apartment, she plopped herself on the bed, sighed profoundly, and barely held herself together. She decided to call Lilian; it had been a while since they talked. She had told her about their separation, but didn’t want to get into too many details. At the time, it was still too raw and Ina could barely make out entire sentences without breaking down again.

“Hey, Auntie Ina!” Charlotte’s voice rang out.

Oh damn kids. Always so damn cheery and naive. Ina had to quickly put on a facade that was more appropriate to talk to her niece.

“Hi Charlotte! What have you been up to?” Ina asked.

“I’m reading that book you gave me for Christmas! About antropogy,” Charlotte said proudly.

“Are you enjoying erm...‘antropogy’?” Ina questioned.

“Yeah! It’s so cool!” Charlotte said.

Ina was happy that she could instill her values and academic pursuits into her little niece. She thought beat that Lilian! Your own daughter’s going to be an anthropologist. And a good one. Lilian always talked smack about how Ina was a fake doctor.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying anthropology. I’ll let you get back to the book. Can I talk to Mommy?” Ina diverted.

“Yea! Wait- Auntie Ina! Are you coming over soon? With pretty Auntie Luna?” Charlotte asked.

“Errr...sure, yes honey,” Ina said and sighed. Charlotte had asked a very valid question. 

She heard a couple shuffles on the other end, and Lilian’s voice finally was heard from the other end.

“Hey, Ina.”

And just like that, Ina’s barriers crumpled down. She was almost at the verge of tears again.

“Lil, I came all the way to New York and she didn’t want to see me,” Ina trembled.

“Wait, you’re here now? What do you mean?” Lilian asked concerned.

“I flew back when I heard that Luna had gotten into an accident. I stayed with her all night. I held her hand. I told her how much I loved her. And when she woke up in the morning, she demanded that I leave,” Ina sobbed.

“I’m sorry, Ina. I know it’s been rough without her these past weeks. But what do you want to do about it? Do you want to do something about it or are you going to keep whining about it?“

Lilian’s abrasiveness did not come as a surprise to Ina. Lilian could be a nurturing mother or tough-love mother, and nothing in between. It was this tough love that Ina received most often. And it worked well for the sisters. Ina usually was able to see that she was complaining without taking action, and Lilian had taught her that self-pity wouldn’t get her very far. After all, Lilian was familiar to hard times. She knew from personal experience that moping around would not help her achieve success.

“I...I don’t know. She said she didn’t want to see me. And I respect her too much to disobey it. But god, I am so in love with her. Every moment without her feels like a waste of my time. And Lil, I want to be with her. For forever. I’m just...lost. I don’t know what to do. It hurts so much to think that she was out there looking for me when the accident happened,” Ina admitted.

“Well, give her time first. She’s probably feeling lost too. She probably still loves you,” Lilian said.

Probably.

~

A few days had passed uneventfully. Initially, Belvoire was upset that Ina had left her post, but what were they going to do? Fire the most beloved professor at the school? Not make money off the anthropology department? Ina told the administrative board that she preferred teaching to doing research, which was a complete lie, but it would have to do. It was that or losing Luna. 

At the sound of each vibration from her phone, Ina perked up in anticipation. Maybe it was Luna. And time after time, she was bombarded by notifications from everyone but Luna.

But eventually, she got what she wanted.

Saturday 1/23 @1:42pm

Luna: Hey. We should probably talk. Can you come by later this evening?

Ina was on cloud nine. Finally! she thought. But then her stomach summersaulted within her. It had been so long since the pair had truly talked. And like a giddy teenager on her first date, Ina felt anxious about seeing Luna. She was too nervous to drive and had contacted Lilian to take her there. 

When Lilian came to Ina’s apartment to pick her up, Ina was ready. She had a whole speech planned out in her head. Ina sat in the passenger’s seat and not even having settled in completely, her young niece made a comment. 

“Woah! You look nice!” Charlotte said as her mother smirked. 

And Charlotte wasn’t wrong. Ina looked good. Albeit simple, Ina wore a red pantsuit. Her makeup was done immaculately, topped off with red lipstick that matched her jacket. 

After some small talk, they had finally gotten to the hospital. The same receptionist smiled at Ina, letting her in easily this time.

~

Ina knocked nervously on the door, Lilian and Charlotte hidden behind her. At first, Lilian didn’t want to impose, but Charlotte insisted on seeing Auntie Luna. And Ina figured that it could potentially help her case.

“Come in,” Luna said.

And god, did Ina miss the sound of her voice. It was warm and comforting, just like a home should be. 

“You have a couple extra visitors today,” Ina said as Charlotte ran towards Luna.

“Auntie Luna!!!!” Charlotte exclaimed as she almost crashed into Luna’s open arms.

“Hey Lilian and Charlotte! How are you? Do you want to sit up here on the bed with me?” Luna asked. She hadn’t even looked nor addressed Ina, and for a split second, Ina was jealous of her own niece.

Luna picked up Charlotte so that they could be sitting on the bed together.

“I brought Scrabble!”

“You don’t need to play if you don’t wan-” Ina interjected and Luna glared at Ina. Ina’s face reddened in embarrassment.

“Let’s play, Charlotte!” Luna said. Cutely nerdy. Just like Ina, Luna thought to herself.

Luna, Charlotte and Lilian played Scrabble while Ina sat off to the side. Ina ran through her thoughts. Luna had texted her to come, but the glare was disheartening. But she was determined. She had to win her woman back. Ina ran out of the room, an idea formulating in her head. Lilian and Luna looked at her strangely, but they continued to entertain Charlotte. 

Meanwhile, Ina darted across the street. She wanted her woman back and would do anything to achieve her goal. Ina practically made her way around New York. She stopped at various places, just to get set up her extravagant redemption date. 

Although Ina went as quickly as possible, an hour had passed by. Charlotte had knocked out on the foot of the bed. Lilian and Luna proceeded to talk, finally unconstrained by Charlotte’s youthful presence.

“What Ina did...well, she should’ve told you about the sabbatical,” Lilian reflected. Luna only scoffed.

“I know how much her career means to her, but well...I hope she would’ve told me. We could’ve worked it out,” Luna said.

“And now, do you think you can work it out?” Lilian asked.

“I...” Luna began, but luckily she was saved by the bell. Ina walked in briskly, her hands full of things that she had just bought. 

“I better go...Charlotte’s going to be confused if she doesn’t wake up her bed,” Lilian said.

And this was enough reason for both women to oust Lilian and her young daughter. Ina carried Charlotte out to Lilian’s car, kissing her forehead as she strapped on her seatbelt. 

“Go get your woman,” Lilian smiled.

“I will,” Ina said. Finally, a small smile appeared on her face, the first smile after weeks of incessant crying and frowns. Ina had the opportunity to get Luna back, and she wouldn’t take it for granted. Not anymore. 

Ina returned to Luna’s room. Now it was real; there were no distractions left. 

“Hey,” Ina said as she closed the door.

“Hey,” Luna returned. “Sit down, please.”

Ina began speaking, but she was swiftly cut off by Luna.

“Let me go first, please,” Luna interrupted. “You know goddamn well you should’ve told me about the sabbatical.”

“I- yes. I know. My failure to communicate with you, well, it’s cost me everything,” Ina said melancholically.

“Ina, look, at first I was upset by the accident. I wanted to catch you at the airport like all those stupid, corny romcoms we would watch together. Even though it didn’t turn out like that,” Luna said gesturing at her physical appearance. “I don’t blame you for the accident. I shouldn’t have been driving in that state. And I don’t want you blaming yourself for it.”

Guilt crept onto Ina’s features. Luna knew that Ina was still blaming herself.

“I...I understand,” Ina said slowly. “I’m so sorry, Luna.”

“Again Ina, don’t blame yourself. Please.”

And just like that, Ina burst out into tears. All the pain, all the emotion, all the guilt she was holding let out suddenly.

“Hey...shh...come here,” Luna said, offering her arms to embrace Ina.

Ina crawled onto the bed. It had been a long time since they had shared one. Luna wiped away Ina’s tears as she held her in her other arm.

“It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay. Now we’re here. Together,“ Luna consoled.

The two shared a couple more moments in each other’s arms. Ina felt safe while being embraced by Luna. After she gained some form of coherence, she clasped Luna’s hands and stared straight into the younger woman’s eyes.

“I’m sorry. I was selfish when thinking about the sabbatical. And I should’ve told you when I was applying. I think I was just scared of losing you. Maybe I did that either way. Anyway, my time without you made me realized that well, you’re everything. You’re everything I’ve ever needed and everything I’ll ever need. God, I’m so madly in love with you, it’s actually terrifying. But anything with you is less terrifying. I want everything with you, Lu. I want to hold you until we fall asleep. I want to wake up next to you the following morning. I want to be nerdy with you. I want to plan lavish dates with you. I want to travel the world with you. I want you in every part of my life. And I don’t want to spend a minute without you. I’ll work towards making it up to you. I’ll tell you how much I love you every second of the day. Tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything to have you back in my arms. I’ll do anything to make sure that you’re mine again. And if you’ll have me, I’ll spend every moment showing you that I love you with everything in me, Luna. Wherever you are, that’s my home.”

The two women were both crying like babies by now. Funnily enough, the nurse had peered into the room and backed out just as quickly as he saw this unfolding. Nope! I’m not paid enough for that, he thought.

Luna, through her tears could only produce one short sentence. “You know, you talk a lot, Ina,” she jested.

Smiling, Ina felt a sense of relief rush through her. She had done it. 

“I’m glad this turned out well because...I bought a ton of stuff. Otherwise, it would’ve been awkward,” Ina said hopping off the bed. Then she presented Luna with a bouquet of red roses. Luna was happy to have received them, but her eyes jumped at when she saw something else.

“Baby, I didn’t tell you how damn fine you look toda- Oh my god! Non-hospital food!” Luna said as Ina took out the takeout boxes.

Ina climbed back into the bed, pulling Luna’s blanket over the two of them. The two ate together happily, catching up on their time apart. Ina put her arm around Luna and turned to face her. She rested her forehead against her lover’s and whispered “I love you.” Luna smiled happily, her lips meeting Ina’s.

Ina rested her head on Luna’s shoulder. The witty and clever woman she was so blindly in love with was back. And she was hers. Forever.

#ina x mc #ina kingsley #professor kingsley #choices #queen b #luna garcia

[spurgie-cousin]

WHW In Memoriam: Unarmed, Murdered Black Americans from History

(Content Warning: Violence, murder, abuse, racism)

So this is definitely not the same kind of ‘weird’ history I usually post about (and it’s not Wednesday quite yet), but in light of the George Floyd verdict I thought it was important to take a moment to remember some of the unarmed, murdered black Americans throughout our history, most of whom have never received justice. Whether their lives were taken by the police or violent, racist vigilantes, their memories should always be a reminder that though we’ve come a long way, we still have a long, long way to go. 

This is in no way a comprehensive list, in fact I start at Emmett Till because the *known* lynchings pre-1955 are too numerous to include in one, two, ten posts. I know I will not have room to include even everyone post 1955 (god there are so many) but please know that all of them, from the unknown to the infamous, from our country’s beginning to today, matter the same.

“History, despite it’s wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again.” - Maya Angelou

 1. Emmett Louis Till

Born: July 25, 1941, Chicago, IL Died: August 28, 1955, Money, MS

Emmett Till was a 14 year-old child from Chicago visiting relatives over his summer break in August of 1955. Unfamiliar with the strictly racist social codes in the American south, he spoke to a white woman at a grocery store, and was accused of flirting with her. A few nights later her husband and his brother abducted Till, brutally beat and mutilated him, and then shot him before letting his body sink into a river. When he was found, his body was barely recognizable even to his mother. 

In an act of grief and defiance, his mother held a highly-publicized, open casket funeral to show the brutality of what had happened to her child to the world. 

It’s believed that before her death, Carolyn Bryant, the woman from the grocery store, recanted key details from her original story, including that Till whistled or flirted with her. 

2. James Earl Chaney

Born: May 30, 1943, Meridian, Mississippi Died: June 21, 1964, Philadelphia, Mississippi

James Chaney was a 21 year old field/social worker working for Congress of Racial Equality (CORE). He was murdered along with two colleagues, Andrew Goodman and Michael Schwerner, by the Ku Klux Klan while they were in Mississippi investigating the burning of a church. The 3 were pulled over by a patrol car being followed by 2 cars full of Klan members, who shot Goodman and Schwerner, beat Chaney, and then shot him 3 times. 

3. Michael Donald

Born: July 24, 1961, Mobile, Alabama Died: March 21, 1981, Mobile, Alabama

Michael Donald was a 20 year-old who on March 21st, 1981 was walking down the street after purchasing cigarettes for his sister. He was chosen at random by a car full of Ku Klux Klan members, angry that a recent Klan members court case had been declared a mistrial. He was beat, hung, and his throat was slit, and was left hanging dead from a tree in a secluded, wooded area. 

Three Klansmen were convicted of Donald's murder. Henry Hays was sentenced to death and executed in the electric chair in 1997. James Knowles and Benjamin Cox were sentenced to life in prison. A civil suit against the United Klans of America caused their bankruptcy.

4. Yusef Kirriem Hawkins

Born: March 19, 1973, Brooklyn, NY Died:  August 23, 1989, Brooklyn, NY

Yusef Hawkins was a 16-year-old black teenager who was shot to death on August 23, 1989, in Bensonhurst, a predominantly Italian-American working-class neighborhood in the New York City borough of Brooklyn. Hawkins, his younger brother, and two friends were attacked by a crowd of 10 to 30 white youths, with at least seven of them wielding baseball bats. One, armed with a handgun, shot Hawkins twice in the chest, killing him. Hawkins and his brother were in the neighborhood to inquire about a used car. 

5. Nicholas Heyward Jr.

Born: August 26th, 1981 Died: September 27th, 1994

13-year-old Nicholas Heyward Jr. was playing cops and robbers inside the stairwell of a Brooklyn apartment building when officer Brian George mistook the boy’s toy gun for a real gun and shot him in the stomach, killing him. 

6. Amadou Diallo

Born: September 2, 1975, Liberia Died: February 4, 1999, NYC, New York

In the early morning of February 4, Diallo was standing near his building after returning from a meal. At about 12:40 a.m., officers Edward McMellon, Sean Carroll, Kenneth Boss and Richard Murphy were looking for an alleged serial rapist in the Soundview section of the Bronx. While driving down Wheeler Avenue, the police officer stopped his unidentified car and interrogated Diallo, who was in front of his apartment. When they ordered Diallo to show his hands, he supposedly ran into the apartment and reached into his pocket to show his wallet. Soon afterwards the four officers fired 41 shots with semi-automatic pistols, fatally hitting Diallo 19 times. Eye witness Sherrie Elliott stated that the police continued to shoot even though Diallo is already down and that McMellon is still shooting even though he is lying on the ground.

7. Kendra Sarie James

Born:  December 24, 1981 Died: May 5, 2003, Portland, Oregon

21-year-old Kendra Sarie James was shot and killed by Portland Officer Scott McCollister when she attempted to flee a traffic stop for a minor violation. Portland police initially said it appeared the car had run over the officer's foot but he did not receive medical attention at the scene or at Northeast Precinct. Police repeatedly refused to identify the alleged traffic violation that caused them to stop James and two companions in the car. Police had taken the driver out of the car and was checking his identity when they saw James slide into the Chevrolet’s driver’s seat. Both officers, while standing on the driver’s side of the car, struggled with James to stop her from driving away. One of them fired a taser gun at her to subdue her. McCollister fired a single round from his 9 mm service pistol at James, killing her.

8. Deaunta T. Farrow

Born: September 7, 1994, West Memphis, Arkansas Died: June 22, 2007, West Memphis, Arkansas

On the night of his death, Deaunta Farrow was walking with his 14-year-old cousin from Farrow’s home to the nearby Steeplechase Apartments where Nash lived.  Along the way the two made a stop at a gas station where they purchased soda pop and chips from the station’s convenience store, and continued down the street. Farrow and Nash turned up the street leading to Nash’s apartment.  At that point two undercover West Memphis police officers, Jimmy Evans and Sammis, who were on a stakeout in a narcotics investigation, appeared from a nearby dumpster.  According to some eyewitnesses, the two police officers confronted the young men and soon afterwards Sammis, noticed something bulging in the 12-year-old’s coat pocket.  As Farrow removed the item, Sammis shot and killed him.

9. Rekia Boyd

Born: November 5, 1989, Chicago, IL Died: March 21, 2012

On the night of her death, Rekia Boyd was hanging out with friends at Douglas Park on Chicago’s West Side at a party listening to music while having a few drinks. Around 1:00 am, Boyd and some of her friends walked to a nearby liquor store. Around the same time, officer Dante Servin was just finishing his shift on his second job. He was off duty, heading to a fast food restaurant for a hamburger, but Servin drove to Douglas Park after a citizen called police about a noise complaint. Servin saw Boyd and her friends and later claimed they were arguing in an alley. Whether Servin calmly approached Boyd and her friends or was rude and aggressive is still debated. One of Boyd’s friends, Antonio Cross, claimed that Servin attempted to buy drugs from the group. When Cross told Servin to “get his crackhead ass out of here,” Servin pulled a gun, stuck it out of the window of his car and fired into the group, hitting Boyd in the head. She was instantly killed.

10. Eric Garner 

Born: September 15, 1970, NYC, New York Died: July 17, 2014, NYC, New York

On July 17th, 2014, NYPD officers approached Eric Garner on suspicion of selling single cigarettes from packs without tax stamps. After Garner told the police that he was tired of being harassed and that he was not selling cigarettes, the officers attempted to arrest Garner. When Pantaleo placed his hands on Garner, Garner pulled his arms away. Pantaleo then placed his arm around Garner's neck and wrestled him to the ground. With multiple officers pinning him down, Garner repeated the words "I can't breathe" 11 times while lying face down on the sidewalk. After Garner lost consciousness, he remained lying on the sidewalk for seven minutes while the officers waited for an ambulance to arrive. Garner was pronounced dead at an area hospital approximately one hour later.

11. Breonna Taylor

Born: June 5, 1993, Grand Rapids, Michigan Died: March 13, 2020, Louisville, Kentucky

A narcotics investigation regarding suspected drug dealer Jamarcus Glover, led detectives to Breonna Taylor’s residence in the South End. Glover was a previous acquaintance of Taylor and she was under suspicion for using her home to his receive mail, hide his drugs, and stash money earned from his drug sales. Taylor, who was 26, at the time, lived in a Springfield Drive apartment with her 27-year-old boyfriend Kenneth Walker. Taylor and Walker were asleep in bed, on the night of March 13, 2020, when they were awakened by a loud banging at the front door. Taylor called out, asking who was there, but heard no response. Walker, a licensed and registered gun owner, armed himself and headed towards the front door, when it suddenly came off its hinges.

Under a “no-knock” search warrant, Louisville Metro Police Department Sgt. Jonathan Mattingly, Detective Brett Hankinson, and Officer Myles Cosgrove, all in plainclothes, stormed into the apartment. Taylor’s boyfriend Walker, thinking this was a home invasion robbery, fired one shot in self-defense. Sgt. Mattingly was hit in the leg, and in response, the other officers opened fire, releasing more than twenty rounds into the apartment. Taylor was shot eight times and collapsed in the hallway of her apartment. She was pronounced dead at the scene.

12. Daunte Demetrius Wright

Died: April 11, 2021 (20 years old)

On April 11 of this year, Daunte Demetrius Wright was fatally shot by police officer Kimberly Ann Potter during a traffic stop and attempted arrest for an outstanding arrest warrant in Brooklyn Center, Minnesota. After a brief struggle with officers, Wright was shot at close range by Potter, who had confused her gun with her taser. Officers pulled Wright out of his car and administered CPR, but were unsuccessful, and he was pronounced dead at the scene.

#murder tw #lynching tw #violence tw #violence #murder #weird history wednesday #whw #racism #racism tw #abuse tw #george floyd #blm #black lives matter #history #not fundie related

[sunyokun]

It Was Yamaguchi (Tsukkiyama)

word count: 3.2k+

content warnings: major character death, angst, hurt/no comfort.

Yamaguchi was trembling.

He had woken up twenty minutes ago to be greeted by nothing but the left side of his bed which was already cold, made, and empty.

That was a little weird considering it was Tsukki’s day off and he liked to spend the majority of the morning curled around Tadashi but it was nothing too drastic.

What really made him anxious, though, was the little post-it note left on the refrigerator. Well, not the note, but rather what it said.

‘Let’s talk later. Be home.

-Kei’

The words “let’s talk” are enough to make anyone nervous, but Yamaguchi already being the overthinker he is made it ten times worse.

His morning cup of tea didn’t taste as sweet as it normally did as he let his thoughts get to him.

Kei has been rather distant lately, hasn’t he?

When’s the last time we had a real, in-depth conversation?

What does he want to talk about?

He’s going to finally leave me, isn’t he?

Trying to think of something that he’s done to provoke Tsukki is a trap in itself because Yamaguchi is constantly thinking that he’s doing something wrong.

So all he could do is wallow in the sinking feeling of dread while awaiting said conversation his boyfriend wanted to have.

He wanted to drop the topic in his mind.

Wanted to focus on anything else.

So he carried on doing what he would normally do every day.

But the freckled man couldn’t help but think about all the wrong he’s done recently while trying to figure out what was the last straw for Tsukki?

Cleaning the dishes he thought about when he accidentally used bleach instead of normal detergent while doing laundry last week.

He’d ruined Kei’s favorite sweater in that load of laundry, hadn’t he?

Yamaguchi recalled the look of annoyance that flickered across his boyfriend’s face when he had broken the news to him, holding out the once dark green sweater that now had large and ugly splotches of bleach stains on them.

His lips curled downward in a scowl and the lines on his forehead that were partially covered by his short fringe creased.

But after one look at Yamaguchi’s nervous and apologetic face, he’d brushed it off, placing a kiss on his forehead saying he’d just buy another one.

Did he really forgive him or did he just say that to spare Yamaguchi and his sensitive feelings?

It’s Yamaguchi we’re talking about. Of course he’d think the latter.

Taking out the garbage, he thought of when he tripped over his shoe laces when Tsukki had brought him to that event his boss was hosting at the museum he worked at a while back.

The people who had been invited were all pretty wealthy business owners who were considering partnering with the rather well known museum.

The volume in the building would be considered silent to someone as loud and rambunctious like their senpais from high school, Nishinoya and Tanaka; but if you were someone who was experienced in this field, you would be able to make out the dozens of mumbled conversations that were spread throughout the building.

That made Yamaguchi’s fall all the more obvious, the sound of him hitting the floor not so quiet.

He had started cursing himself the very second he had tried to take a step forward and realized his other foot was atop that one’s shoelace.

He knew he was going to trip and fall flat on his face in front of all these people and what made him feel worse was the words that rang in his head that Kei had spoken to him before leaving.

“You’re sure you don’t want to wear shoes without laces? What if you fall?”

He had known. Yamaguchi assumed it was because he had always found a way to embarrass him in public so Tsukki must have started picking up on his stupidly clumsy habits. But oh boy, had he done it this time. He was going to be so livid with him.

Kei was looking to his left at a statue when he heard the smack of a body hit the floor next to him and quickly swiveled his head to find his green haired lover no longer (almost) eye level with him.

He had glanced around to see if anyone had noticed and of course, with their luck, everyone in the room had turned to see what the commotion was all about. Including Kei’s boss.

He didn’t sigh, didn’t roll his eyes, didn’t even walk away which he would’ve done if it were anyone else who had embarrassed him to such lengths in public.

But this was Yamaguchi.

So he knelt down to be next to the wide-eyed man and spoke to him in a soft voice.

“Did you hurt yourself?”

Tadashi shook his head quickly as Tsukki gave him a once-over and opened his mouth to apologize but before he could, the blond was helping him to his feet.

“As long as you’re uninjured, don't apologize. I didn’t want to drive all the way to the hospital.”

He ruffled his large hand in green hair but Tadashi thought that he could sense the underlying agitation beneath his soft words. He had one job and it was to not embarrass his boyfriend. He failed, just like everything else he ever tried.

Tsukki didn’t show any sign even later that night when they went out to eat or any of the days following that he was mad.

But it’s Yamaguchi Tadashi we’re talking about. What do you mean he’s not mad? Of course he is. He has to be.

While folding the (not bleached) laundry, he wondered if it was when he tried to recreate his lover’s favorite strawberry shortcake recipe but messed it up by mixing up the salt and sugar containers.

Not only did Kei have to come home to his kitchen looking like a hurricane had passed through it, but his initial excitement at seeing a small, cutely decorated strawberry shortcake had gone to waste.

Yamaguchi watched in mortification as Tsukki took his first (and only) bite only for his lover’s face to scrunch as one did when they tasted a lemon.

“Kei? What is it? Did I make it wrong? I’m sor-”

Holding a hand up, it was a struggle but the middle blocker swallowed the bite as he stood up and went over to go where Yamaguchi had left out all of the ingredients he had used and looked around until finding the container of what Yamaguchi had thought was sugar.

“Use this?”

The freckled boy had nodded, still embarrassed but now confused as his boyfriend came over to him and poured a tiny bit on his hand for him to taste.

He grit his teeth at the taste of salt and sighed.

What can he do right?

“Kei-”

He didn’t let him apologize again.

Maybe he’d finally gotten tired of hearing the words come out of his mouth.

But that didn’t seem like the case when Tsukishima started laughing.

He laughed so hard that he doubled over, clutching his stomach and had to remove his glasses to wipe his eyes.

Tadashi would have to wipe his own eyes here soon.

Everything he tried at, he failed.

And now the person whom he loved most was laughing in his face.

“Tadashi.”

Kei’s hands were suddenly on his face and he was brought back to reality, back down to Earth, back down to their small but cozy apartment in Sendai where it was just he and Tsukki. And the latter wasn’t laughing anymore.

“I didn’t mean it like that. Thank you for making the cake. I just thought your mistake was cute.”

But it’s Yamaguchi he was talking to. And even a crack in Kei’s voice, a glint in his eye, a twitch of his mouth could convince Yamaguchi’s opinion of his irritation.

While thinking, Tadashi had been stress cleaning so his chores for the next few days were complete, leaving him sitting on the edge of their bed, twiddling his thumbs.

The old clock that they had chimed, signaling the last hour had gone and a new one had come but when checked, it was still only five o’clock.

And Yamaguchi refused to sit there, nothing but a bundle of nerves and anxiety for the remaining hour and fifteen minutes until Kei came home from practice with his team, the Sendai Frogs.

He brushed out his hair, put on a sweater and slipped on his shoes by the door and after making sure he had his (near dead) phone in his pocket along with some money, he walked out onto the street.

He didn’t have a certain aim as to where he was going.

He was just going.

Which ended up well for him actually because he ended up at his favorite convenience store.

He stopped inside and roamed the aisles, looking for something to waste his money on to pass the time.

He stops in front of a display of baked goods and wants to roll his eyes at the perfect piece of strawberry shortcake that sat on it’s platter.

It annoyed him, having just been thinking about his own failed attempt at the sweet.

But he still bought it anyway, that and a small carton of strawberry milk.

He sat outside, bathing in the summer sun, wishing he hadn’t worn a sweater, and occasionally eating his cake and sipping his milk while thinking.

Maybe just this once, he wanted to believe he was overreacting.

Maybe Kei didn’t want to leave him at all.

Maybe he just wanted to talk about something that had nothing to do with them splitting apart.

He hoped that was the case.

He hoped with everything he had.

And as he took his last bite of shortcake, his milk finished some time ago, he allowed himself his first tiny grin of the day.

One day, he would make a shortcake like this for Tsukki, too. He’ll use sugar and all this time.

He almost got to sigh a breath of relief. Almost.

That was until he saw the time.

It felt like he had been sitting there for no more than half of an hour but apparently almost an hour and a half had passed.

Kei should’ve been home fifteen minutes ago.

And back came Tadashi’s anxiety.

So he started running home.

As fast as his slender legs would take him, he ran.

He only slowed a bit as he pulled his phone from his pocket so he wouldn’t run into anyone.

It was weird that Tsukki hadn’t let any text messages or voicemails for him since he wasn’t there when he got home but he had no time to think about it.

He turned a corner while dialing Kei’s number, hoping his phone didn’t die before he answered, and grimaced at the bad car accident he had to pass.

He couldn’t spare the time to stop and stare though, so he resumed speed walking as he held the phone up to his ear.

Until he heard it.

The sound of his favorite song. His as in Kei’s, not Tadashi's.

It’s not uncommon to hear music out in the city streets but the song had a certain extra jingle in the background that he knew from one place and one place only.

The ringtone that Tsukki had set for Tadashi in his phone.

He faltered in his step and his knees nearly buckled.

He slowly stopped and pulled the phone away from his ear, wide eyes and a shaking hand turning to his left to face the street and the accident.

That wasn’t the grey car that Tsukishima Kei drove off to work this morning. No, it couldn’t be.

That wasn’t Tadashi’s face staring back at him from the phone that a gloved police officer was putting into a plastic bag of things that were not Tsukki’s belongings.

And that most certainly was not Tsukishima Kei’s almost unrecognizable fucking body being lifted out of a destroyed car.

It certainly wasn’t.

But it was.

And Tadashi was running.

Running and screaming out Kei’s name so loud, everyone had turned to look at the man who didn’t know but already had tears leaving a trail in his wake.

But for once in his life, his anxiety didn’t shove the fact that they were all watching him in his face.

Tsukki was hurt. Tsukki was unconscious. His Tsukki was…

He tried to push past an officer who tried to tell him to back away from the scene but was caught by the arm.

What a coincidence, he would’ve thought on a normal day if he looked up to Officer Daichi Sawamura on the street.

But it wasn’t a normal day and he needed to get to his boyfriend.

“Yamaguchi? What the hell-” “Kei!”

Then it clicked for Daichi who was still holding his kouhai back.

“Tell me that’s not…” “Let me go! Kei!”

And let him go, he did.

In fact, he ran to the unconscious body being rolled to an ambulance alongside the screaming man.

Yamaguchi snatched Kei’s face into his hands, letting out a sob when he saw it so close up.

He was in his own world.

He didn’t notice Daichi explaining that he was Kei’s boyfriend to his fellow officers and to let him ride along in the ambulance while holding back tears of his own.

He didn’t notice the crowd grow slightly bigger, his screams drawing more people in.

He didn’t notice anything until they started rolling Kei away from him.

He held onto the sides of his stretcher with all of his strength, not willing to let go of him until Daichi physically picked him up and jumped in the ambulance after they had loaded Tsukki in.

#tsukki x yamaguchi #tadashi yamaguchi #kei tsukishima #tsukkiyama #yamaguchi #tsukishima #yamaguchi fic #tsukishima fic #haikyuu #haikyuu ff #hq ff #hq fanfic

[sonderwalker]

OKAY YOU GET A PROMPT TOO

“you’re a little mixed up right now. ” from the fever prompts

❤️❤️❤️

aaaaaaaaa i actually had to think about what to write for this one but i have thought of something, so yay! it’s a continuation of your drabble that I requested from you, which you can read here and it’s from this prompt list!

It was now the end of the week, and Obi-Wan sat at his desk, scrolling through his emails. The sun was lower in the sky, telling that soon evening would be here, despite the fact that it was only just past four in the afternoon.

The windows of his office were closed, but he could still feel a chill coming through. The weather for the entire week had been cold and wet, teetering on snowing, and then would be just warm enough to rain during the day. Only for it to freeze over at night.

And while the weather annoyed him, it didn’t concern him. What concerned him was ever since that last email from Anakin, he hadn’t heard anything from him. And while part of him was saying that this was because he wanted his sweater back, another larger part of him could not deny the concern that had slowly beginning to build as the week progressed, and he still heard nothing.

He knew that the flu was nothing to joke about, and there had been a particularly bad strain that was circulating around the campus, causing several of his own students to end up in the hospital.

He refreshed his email, doing the best to put the thought of Anakin in the hospital out of his mind.

And his eyes widened when he saw a new email in his inbox- not from another student trying to explain why their paper was late, but it was from Anakin, who for the first time in four days, had responded.

He quickly opened the email, clicking on it several times and trying to ignore the way his heart seemed to beat a little faster in his chest as he did so.

‘Sorry for not responding sooner, I’m still pretty sick’ It began, and Obi-Wan immediately felt his heart sink into his chest, the guilt slowly building up from even asking Anakin when he could meet up to get his sweater back.

‘I think I’ll be feeling well enough tomorrow if you want to stop by my place and pick it up? I probably shouldn’t be going out.’  Anakin suggested, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile here. Anakin was a selfless person, almost to a fault most of the time, and while at times it was frustrating, it was also at other times endearing. And this was one of those times.

‘Here’s my address, and my number. Text me when you’re outside!’  And that was the end of it. Obi-Wan stared at the numbers on the bottom of the screen, blinking several times. 

And while he had intended to ask Anakin for his personal contact information at some point, he didn’t intend to get it like this. And while he wasn’t upset at the fact that this was how he got it, he was concerned that perhaps Anakin felt pressured to return the sweater. As far as Obi-Wan was concerned, Anakin could keep it for as long as he liked, especially if he was still as sick as he was saying.

But he also had to consider that Anakin probably would not see and respond to another email in time for Obi-Wan to tell him that it was more than alright that he keep the sweater until he felt better. That he didn’t mind at all, and that he was happy that Anakin was getting some use out of it.

His eyes scanned over the phone number at the bottom of the screen again, before slowly pulling out his phone and entering it as a new contact.

It felt strange.

On the surface, there was nothing strange about what he was doing, but it felt strange in his heart, and he didn’t want to think about why. Not yet, at least.

But it was now the next day, and Obi-Wan found himself staring down at a map on his phone, the destination being Anakin’s apartment building. It was close to the campus, and located where he knew a lot of students lived. There were also professors that lived in the nearby neighborhood, and so it was a place that Obi-Wan was familiar with.

The building was only a ten minute drive from where he currently was, which was not his own residence, but a convenience store. He had told himself, that if Anakin was going through all of this trouble to return the sweater despite still clearly being unwell, the least he could do was show up with something nice in return.

Which is how he found himself purchasing some cold and flu medicine, and a box of tea that he was surprised that they carried, but knew that he always enjoyed drinking when he felt unwell.

Grabbing the bag that the cashier placed them in, Obi-Wan quickly walked back out of the store and continued on his way.

‘I’m outside.’ Obi-Wan typed out but then deleted it. He didn’t want to be too blunt, be he also didn’t want to appear vague. He looked down at the empty message bubble and sighed, watching as his breath turned into a cloud of vapor in front of his face.

‘Hello Anakin, It’s Obi-Wan, and I am outside of your building.’  Was that too formal?

He hit send.

It was probably too formal. Obi-Wan groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He stood out in the cold, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, trying his best to not worry too much. People came and went into and out of the building, but there was no sight of Anakin. 

And when their was, Obi-Wan felt a mix of emotions.

First was the initial rush of seeing Anakin that always happened, which was quickly replaced by a frown as he noticed that if anything, Anakin looked worse now than he had at the beginning of the week. He had traded in his thin hoodie for a thicker one, and had the hood pulled over his head. Jeans were replaced by thicker lounge pants, but he was still wearing the same sneakers that he had worn when Obi-Wan last saw him.

Bundled under one arm was the sweater that Obi-Wan had lent him, and the other arm had been brought up towards his face as he coughed harshly into his elbow.

“Sorry this took so-” Anakin began, his voice raspy as he opened the door for Obi-Wan to walk inside.

“You can keep it.” Obi-Wan found himself saying before he had the chance to think of anything else.

“What?” Anakin asked, his voice cracking. He turned aside to cough again before facing Obi-Wan.

“You need it more than I do,” Obi-Wan pointed out, trying to stay as cool and collected as possible.

Anakin blinked at him several times before running a hand over his face.

“I thought you said you wanted it back?” He asked again before turning away to sneeze.

“I did, but had I known that you were still this sick earlier, I wouldn’t have bothered.” Obi-Wan replied with a shrug.

“But... you wanted it back?” Anakin asked again, narrowing his eyes and now Obi-Wan didn’t know if he should laugh or if he should be concerned.

“You seem a little mixed up right now, Anakin.” Obi-Wan noted as he rested a hand on Anakin’s shoulder.

He could feel how Anakin was both trembling and radiating too much heat at the same time. They both stared at each other for a moment, before Obi-Wan let go of Anakin, handing him the bag that was in his other hand.

“And you sound like you could use what’s in here,” Obi-Wan said as Anakin took the bag and opened it.

“You didn’t have to get me all of this,” Anakin whispered hoarsely, looking down at the contents of the bag.

“On the contrary, Anakin you sound horrible.” Obi-Wan replied. 

“And I have had several students already end up in the hospital because of this strain of the flu, so I do in fact, think that you needed at least something.”

“Thanks,” Anakin whispered, looking back up at Obi-Wan and smiling softly. But the moment was ruined when Anakin turned away to cough again, and Obi-Wan winced at how it sounded.

“Alright, I think it’s time you head back to bed.” Obi-Wan said after Anakin was done.

Anakin rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face. “Thanks again,” He said softly, crossing his arms over his torso as the door behind them opened, letting in more cold air.

“Think nothing of it, I just want you to get better,” Obi-Wan replied while waving his hand.

“I’ll see you next week?” Anakin asked as Obi-Wan turned to leave.

“Only if you’re well enough to be back, otherwise I will not hesitate to have you go home, as much as I enjoy your company.”

“You enjoy my company?” Anakin asked while sniffling several times.

“Yes, and as much as I’d love to stay and talk, I can see that you’re shivering, and should probably be back in bed.” Obi-wan pointed out. 

“But can we talk later?” Anakin asked, his tone cautious but hopeful.

“When you’re better, we can talk.” Obi-Wan replied, before turning to leave again, feeling the cold winter air contrast the burning of his cheeks.

What was he thinking?

#prompt #drabble #my writing #writing #fever prompt #whump #obikin

[quinn-tessence]

Nocturne for a Clown

Part 3

Summary: you're tormented by the realization Arthur is the killer clown on the news, yet no bone in your body feels any different for him. Not even Casanova's advances could sway your from wanting to hold Arthur in your arms and alleviate his sorrow. He's had a bad day, and retreats on your couch, broken and confused.

Length: 5k words

Warnings: mentions of murder, lack of remorse, guilt and grief, seeking comfort where he'd never had it from. Smut with dear Arthur that could cause a rush of tremors, be warned. 🤭❤

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You sat and watched. Then watched and watched some more. There were no words, no voice, no sound coming through your gaping mouth as the skin on your lips almost started to crack. It made sense. The blood, the bruise, the liberating sex, the wretched guilt. Oh God, what has he done?, you repeated in his voice over and over, that impossible puzzle putting itself together before you as you hid your gouging eyes underneath heavy, sweaty palms in a much too similar reflex to his own.

What has he done? He'd been beaten down surely, given his frail nature you could see how he'd be fluent in being at the receiving end, but as grievous as the thought was, it made it no less valid. This was bad, he’d land straight into Arkham if you picked up that phone to call the authorities, the way a considerate citizen would, as if Gotham deserved any at all. But you weren't one of them, were you? Never had you really fit in, yet you tried for the sake of appearances, it had become so burdening of late, only the thought of Arthur could provide the comfort you'd been seeking.

The news reports kept blaring, yet all your compassion overflowed for the clown, had you been able to see things objectively you'd still think he was hero. Three fewer assholes in Gotham, only a million more to go, you heard an inner voice say, even if you knew that was enough reason to throw you into the depths of Arkham Asylum. You'd sadly known that place from family, and you never wanted to set foot in that Tartarus again, but perhaps the apple didn't fall far from the tree. You couldn't stomach the thought of Arthur sitting opposite the glass wall from you, so dozed up on sedatives he'd hardly even recognize you. No, no, no. You wouldn't let that happen, and yet he'd need his own time and space to process.

You resisted the urge to bang on his door and ask for a full account, it felt as if you were a passenger on a derailing, speeding train. Regardless of how breathtaking the turquoise water under the rails, your gut wrenched at the thought of plunging into it head first. You were a decent swimmer, but you knew you’d be incapable of fighting those waters from swallowing you whole. You'd just given yourself to him, entirely and shamelessly, and regret was nowhere in sight. Had you been the forth prey of his killing spree, he would have killed you already. Yet he did the exact opposite, in distress and quivering like a leaf, but it was your door he opened after his rupture. He trusted you to keep this secret for him. And you welcomed the trust.

Within a few days you noticed you'd returned to your bad habit of unconscious nails biting. As if the deafening tumult between your temples wasn't enough, you also had to self flagellate as you desperately waited in silence.

You were busy enough at work, and the newest addition to your team had become daring enough to invade your private space little by little. Tall. Lean. Broad shouldered. Curly caramel hair and eyes of obsidian, winking at you shamelessly each time he passed by you. Patrick was a force in his field, yet he rolled his eyes and tongued his cheek whenever you'd call on him for a task, as if wanting to taunt you. Quite quirky and unprofessional, but restrictive enough to question yourself if you were merely projecting. Not once had he failed to deliver, on the contrary, yet that sly attitude never left him. Hm. The distraction was welcome, but it was nothing more. You'd catch yourself staring through him, picturing sparkling emeralds and cocoa, having to snap yourself back to reality before he'd think it was him you were aching for just like all your infatuated colleagues.

He must have checked with your giggly girlfriends before casually slipping in an invitation to your favorite bar after hours, casual drinks with a few colleagues, of course. Perhaps you should have politely declined, but you needed the respite from the heart wrenching torment, even if just for a few hours.

As empty as the venue was, he insisted on strolling in your visual field, intriguingly charming, maybe a bit too charismatic. It was time to maintain a level of dignity with your colleagues and remove yourself before getting into a state where you'd find yourself in Arthur's apartment, this time fully conscious. Yet Patrick gallantly offered to drive you over, posing a certain concern for your safety alone in the streets with a murdering clown on the loose. HA! You giggled at the joke being on him, silently talking to yourself. No thank you, you rascal, protection from that clown is the last thing I need. He insisted on paying for the taxi at least, and you’d had two drinks and wanted to be home already.

The thunderstorm washed the streets rapidly as you entered your building. You loved ravenous thunderstorms, especially as they traversed the sky over your cozy apartment bathed in lily scent. You took comfort in the hot shower and the chilly air in the room, lightning bolts clearing up the sky for a flash of a second as you wrapped yourself in the bathrobe, ready for Murray's dry humor.

Oh God! Your heart leapt to your throat as a soaked silhouette bathed your floors in cocoa flavor. At last.

‘Arthur! You scared me!’ he lay motionless, your words passing through him as if he wasn't even there. ‘Is everything ok?’

His damp fingers absently traced a faint line over the glass of your coffee table, his body slouched and stiff, the edges of his hair dripping on the couch.

‘I had a bad day.’

The words had come from a deep dark pit inside his chest, a wretched misery draped across his face as you kneeled next to him, cupping his cheeks. You'd ached to see his sparkling jades, yet you'd met them covered in a thick coat of tears, on the edge of dropping.

‘Arthur, what happened, sweetheart? Talk to me, please' He was so tired and withered, not even the wicked cackle would surface in this state.

‘I had a bad day…’

‘You said that, sweetheart, tell me what happened. Are you hurt?’

‘Kitten. I've done something… I…’ for seconds he tried to articulate, but the cackle fought its way up his throat.

‘Arthur shhhh. I know it was you. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, I won't force you… I won’t judge you for it, I promise. Just sit with me for a second’ his head already leaning on your chest, your palm caressing his piercing bones, even through sets of clothes. He sat sedated, limbs heavy, flesh trembling, voice cackling in wrenching anguish for what felt like minutes on end.

‘You do?’ he asked between ruptures as if to steer his initial subject into whatever you'd conveniently brought up.

‘I do. I knew it the moment I heard the news after you stormed out. I saw the blood and the bruise on your face. You won't find any judgement here, I promise. I know you needed time to process, but you’re here now. Shhh' you almost cradled him in your arms, the most powerful instinct to protect him even from himself overbearing. He was all bone and sinew, like a hungry lone wolf, but there now was a sinister vibe to him.

‘Good. I'm glad you know. I lost my job that day, and then they attacked me in the subway, beating me to a pulp. Hm. Now you'll know that killing them hasn't bothered me at all. How's that for casual conversation?’

An unnerving tremor slid down your spine at the tone of his voice. You'd known him for a while, yet this resentful sneer was far from something you'd expect from timorous Arthur. Dreadful it's what it was, spine-tingling, intriguing, you were utterly mad to clasp this deranged man to your bosom when another prince charming just waited for one damn look from you. Who cared, you thought, Gotham’s gonna claim all of us sooner or later.

‘All I want is for you to be safe, Arthur. I won't tell anyone, but you need to be careful, sweetheart, you can't be saying things like those to anyone, please'

‘I have no one to tell, Y/N. And you’re not just anyone. You know. I’m still here, although you could have thrown me in police custody for the past few days.’ The cackles had given him a short respite, even if still lingering on the edge of bursting. He wheezed heavily before speaking. ‘My whole life I didn't even know if I really existed. And today, I feel… hollow…’

You'd asked and asked again as you touched his face and held it close to yours, his forehead as cold as the thunderstorm outside this comforting protective bubble.

‘My mother had a heart attack. She's in the hospital. Hah. My mother…’ a late instinct turned your skin to prickles hearing him speak from a different octave, a thick air of mustering resentment filling the room. ‘I had a few days to myself and I decided to deliver a letter to Thomas Wayne from her, seeing how he never bothered to write back. I'd told you she worked for him 30 years ago, and I read it although I shouldn’t have. I'd never known my father, but the letter said it was him. I confronted my mother and she told me everything about the two of them. But… instead of some warmth or a bit of decency, he told me my mother was insane and that I had been adopted. That and a punch to the face is what I got. Hm. Who am I, then? You tell me'

Your own eyes on the brink of overflowing, your soul coiled. You couldn't do much, but he needed comfort. Where would you even start, though? His tone of voice, the grief weighing him down, the droplets off his wet hair disintegrating whatever pieces were left of him, a question mark in stead of whomever he thought he'd been his whole life. Yet he didn't expect comfort. Such a foreign concept to him, as if reserved only to an elite he was not part of and would not dare intrude upon. You could easily hear how he'd just laugh it out into his pillow at night, his cries stifled, lacking a corner of privacy and personal intimacy where he could really build up that forced smile he'd put on every next day. You’d go utterly mad if you were in his shoes, no comfort and no expectation of it. So used to being overlooked, deep down he knew he was alone, and that filled him with fear and hopelessness. So you shushed and nuzzled him to your chest, hoping the warmth of your body would be soothing enough for the chaos that he was.

‘I don't know who I am, kitten. So I went down to Arkham and stole my mother's file just to find that he'd been right. The… horrors… she subjected me to as a child had gotten me locked up in Arkham years ago, but now I think I was just trying to hide from her, from this rotten city, from this world. I felt safe in that white room, ironically. When they released me, the heavy medication was supposed to make me feel better, instead it suffocated even my most basic impulses.’

Laughter ripped at his throat and pulled his face into a grimace, your palms clasping him so tightly you were afraid you might smother him. How much pain and grief could a man take, his poor soul must have been bound to an eternal rock, forever pecked by hungry vultures.

‘How can you even welcome me into your home if I don't even know that much? I’m so sorry I dragged you into this. I should go, no need to burden you with any of this' he meant every word, as he kissed your hands with teary lips and dragged himself half upright.

‘Don't go' you close to begged. ‘Please stay.’

The grooves in his forehead you loved, just as the distinctive scar on his upper lip and the deep dark eye bags crowning his jades, his state of mind added another couple decades to his age. As you took him in through your pores, you remembered the shy clown peering through the shelves, and how the makeup would do the exact opposite of its intended purpose. Somehow he'd been unaware of how the makeup brightened his eyes to a clarity and sharpness you could cut yourself into. It was endearing how he'd stared at you when you'd first seen him wearing the costume, thinking he could hide under that mask when really it only brought him to life, his facial expressivity more riveting than ever. Yet he was here with you, more Carnival than Arthur even without the paint, as broken as a mirror in infinite shards.

‘Will you still have me here after this?’

‘I would. Please. I'm glad you came here after all this instead of going back home.’

The thought he'd ever been intimate with a woman before you had dissipated in an endless pool of murky turquoise, the genuine surprise in his eyes cutting you to your bone. There was no question, you knew.

‘Thank you, kitten. I'll stay, if you want me here'. There was no hiding anymore, you'd made it sparkling clear by being an accessory after the fact.

‘I do, Arthur, so much. I wanted you here… since you held that elevator for me, yet somehow we always missed our moment. No need to thank me…’

Had it not been for the roaring thunder, he'd probably hear your galloping heart, yet his composure betrayed just that acknowledgement. Every fiber in your body ached to touch his soul and mend it. The erotic tension you couldn't deny, but that wasn't anywhere near the reason why you'd willfully allowed yourself to become his accomplice. He sat back down, timidly reaching for your hand with his own smooth fingers, to place it on his cheek, now as warm as to ignite all the fires inside you with only one touch. Regardless of the endless torment of his life, it was so effortless to feel safe in his presence, even if he'd just killed three men in cold blood and joggled his life as he balanced on a thin string.

‘But I want to. Will you... let me thank you?’ his eyes had meekly turned to yours with a restless heeding for that glimpse of complicity you'd joined in a few times before.

‘If you insist, sweetheart, I guess you already did. You're welcome.’ And through that smile you could feel your body radiating as intensely as a candle flame in the dark. You’d tripped and fell into feelings for him, and nothing could brush them off.

‘No... I really want to thank you, kitten...’ Painfully slowly, he drew himself closer to you, a cocktail of demureness and ardor shaping his beautifully chiseled face into one that you'd missed your whole life, without even knowing. ‘I want to... put my mouth on you...’

Oh… He'd shown you a short, blissful glimpse of this other Arthur, the less tense, less uptight, more daring when he'd taken what you both wanted. There was always a limit to his courage, and yet he’d usually fall back into the timid, maiden like demeanor that he was. This felt different though, as there was a glimpse of unbridling in the way he inhaled, in the twitch of his contoured eyebrow, his whispering husky voice demanding consent. He needed this. Perhaps it would help deafen the torment for a quiet minute, and you were willing to let him try. Oh, who were you fooling, your heart had leapt at the thought of this since you saw him motionless on your couch, albeit in your mind the roles had been reversed. You'd bitten your lip instinctively, a most nonverbal cue of compliance to his plea, and within a short second he was tasting it, sucking it, biting it gently, as his nimble fingers strolled so tenderly through your hair to uncover your face, your eyes already deeply sunk behind fluttering eyelids.

‘I want to feel you shiver in my mouth' he whispered with a faltering voice, taking in all of your scent through avid nostrils. ‘You always smell so good, so clean… I want to taste you…'

So tender he was, you'd forgotten what it felt like to be wished for, body and soul alike, yet his palms willingly showed you a striking contrast to the tenacious Arthur who'd barged in days ago, as if your skin was porcelain and he wouldn't want to break you. He uncovered your naked skin underneath the fluffy bathrobe and smoothly tasted the growing prickles with curious fingertips, lowering himself towards your thighs at a painstakingly slow pace that would soon have you beg.

Pulling you to the edge of the couch where he’d slid himself, he finally broke the jarring tension of his eye contact just to move his head lower, descending decisively. The instant his curious lips parted, a shiver jolted through your flesh and your heart leapt into a marathon, you let yourself fall into his mouth without any control. How beautiful he was, you reminded him over and over as your fingers slicked his damp hair back, curling it around his ears, uncovering his furrowed forehead and perfect chiseled jawline. The sight of him between your thighs was no stranger, but you’d only seen it from afar until now, deep within the corner of each of your fantasies. Such a kind soul he was, but that mouth a wretched devil… oh my…

For a second he looked as if he'd forgotten all his sorrows as he strolled his tongue over your petals, tasting your skin one inch at a time, gently exploring to test your every reaction to his laps, his eyes fascinated with each of your whimpers. The throbbing love button he'd unveiled, a curiosity he had to touch with his tongue to feel the pulsation, your purrs a source of the validation in an endless sea of self doubt. Taking his time, curiously exploring this newfound medication for his sorrowful blues, he quickly grew hungry and greedy as an addict for a stronger fix, yet somewhat cautious to not overdose. His dilated basil eyes etched onto your contorted face, delighting in each tiny reaction he drew from you with his mouth, yet the catalyst to set you fully ablaze were his own moans as he enjoyed himself enjoying you. Oh God, what is he doing to me, I never want him to stop…

You’d thought you'd be the one comforting him, but it seemed as if he was doing it for both of you. His eyes moved around maniacally, taking in the shape of your naked breasts, of your nipples hardened at the thunderous air in the room, your moans guiding him into a delicate rhythm that could make you climb walls, even with the clumsiness that came with tasting a new person. He couldn't be a novice, although his curiosity was striking and enticing. Regardless of all that sorrow he'd brought with him, he curled a satisfied smirk under his scar and an impertinent twitch of his eyebrow sent you into a frenzy. His jades dilated at seeing your lips bitten, your eyebrows furrowed, close to crying in ecstasy, unable to move at the pleasure he gave and gave some more.

The mercury in your thermometer jumped at knot speed towards one big show of fireworks whose fuse got consumed by his kindling flame at a slow pace. Thoughts of his recent killing spree rushed through your mind, yet you were as high as a kite. You didn't care. So you let them ooze out to leave a hazy emptiness behind to be filled with all this spectacle of indulgence.

The pleas were whimpering whispers as you arched and etched your fingers in his smooth cocoa hair to anchor him, the other palm clenching a poor throw pillow to deformation. You hips guided by the rhythm of his palms on your waist, your moans deepening as he'd made you move onto his face, using it as a fine tuned instrument to orchestrate the crescendo of both your pleasure. Now that all your 8000 sensory nerve endings could light Gotham for Christmas if visible, his tongue flickered around your pearl, feeling the climax building up towards that overwhelming rapture. Moans turned to shrieks, toes and fingers clenched in reflex, his eyes and mouth on you as he winked from under long dark eyelashes. You combusted so powerfully into his mouth, within a few blissful seconds you'd left him glistening in traces of yourself.

Only as you quivered your last drop of pleasure in his mouth did you realize why he'd needed this so badly, he craved the validation of being a man even if his identity in shatters. It was one thing to have no identity, but another to not even be a man. Pleasuring you was one damn win that would hold his feet on the ground if he did it right, and that he could control. He had been scrutinizing you as you gasped for air, your eyebrows furrowed almost painfully, your flushed delicate muscles still throbbing under his tongue.

‘Oh, Arthur, that was… amazing…’

Still lingering his lips onto your inner thighs, he kissed tenderly as your flesh still twitched. You wanted him even more now than you did before. But tonight should be about him, even if he'd taken the lead so gracefully, so skillfully, so deliciously.

‘Yeah…’ the shyest smile draped across his tinted face, 'I felt that, kitten. I've… never really done this before…’ You'd known, deep down, and yet hearing him say the words was the most tender of piano nocturnes to your ears, so you latched at his mouth to taste him through your flavor, one that if you could bottle up, it would drive mankind rabid into destructive adoration.

Come here, Arthur, you whispered as you pulled him next to you, the puzzlement over his arching eyebrows an absolute delight you'd dreamt of relentlessly. He didn't fight it, yet the stiffness in his bones betrayed an urge he'd palmed away many nights without resolution, anxiety creeping over him at the realization it was now staring him in the face.

‘Wh… what are you doing?’, you shushed him as a response.

‘Kitten, please, don't feel like you need to give me anything back…’

‘Who said anything about giving back? I'm taking this for myself, Arthur. Let go, baby, let me take care of you'

‘Kitten… ohh' his eyes went straight to the back of his head, heavy eyelids covering his jades, his lips parted as your fingers traced the bulge straining his pants to suffocation. ‘Ok…’ he exhaled anxiously, a timidly bouncing knee betraying the rush of emotion flowing through him as you dragged his clothes over his head, his pants crowning the floor within a few seconds, leaving him naked to your hungry gazes.

The flickering light of the candles reflected over his protruding ribs as if a part of his body had caved in under the weight of his shoulders, his palms on your face strolling and tasting the reality of your flesh, he must have thought you were a side effect of his medication. Yet the prickling shivers traversing his body as you trailed your fingers over it were not. You reached for his lips as you lay him across the couch, your breasts invading his chest, the warmth of your body soothing his anxious trembling. That defeated look on his face, so vulnerable he'd made himself to you, he had nothing to give yet you still wanted him. He was mystified with even the remote possibility, let alone you giving him that adoration he'd chased endlessly, but never caught.

‘You are so beautiful, Arthur, let me show you, please…’ He was your paradise lost in the depravity of Gotham, a villain in itself, weighing down on each of its residents and having chosen Arthur to crush mercilessly under its own lack of a well defined identity, ready to teach us all lessons in humility that could lead to desperation.

He nodded shyly, his jades coated with an acute layer of yearning over something he'd never been given before. His body was a withered Stradivarius, abandoned in the corner of a cold, damp world, subjected to years of weathering and painful lack of any care, no wonder he was so feeble in between your fingers. But his strings were steel, and steel doesn't weather. It would naturally respond to external factors just like anything else but no amount of forcing, pushing, suppressing would bring out the brilliant austere sound it was designed to bring. Had he been less frail, you'd relate him to a cello, one that needs to be held tight to one's chest before playing it, where its resonating chamber rests upon the artist's heart as she moves the bow on the saddest of instruments. Yet he was so fragile, the wails of his chords almost bringing you to tears as you ghosted over them, testing what amount of pressure would bring the vibration, how to explore the potential of the sound and bring it closer to perfection. You were there to give him all that, to polish all the dust away, his wrinkles, his chiseled edges, to practice on his strings and validate his worth until he felt himself a Stradivarius for the first time in his life. He'd been blessed with a beautiful instrument that could bring such intense sensory bliss if only he'd find the right hands, and you longed to play him through the night, to tear your fingers into his chords and to sing his melancholy away.

What a trembling mess he'd become as soon as your lips strolled down his neck, the smell of rain and cigarettes off his skin intoxicating you into indelible addiction. The farthest you went, the more you saw how little he expected that you'd turn your full attention to him, as if never daring to expect anything other than what you'd allow him to take. You kissed your way down from his chest, palms exploring and fondling every bony texture, every inch of soft skin until reaching an extremity that felt to your fingertips as both together. Trembling, he slicked back his hair and sunk deeper into the couch, scrutinizing your face in detail and feeding you those micro expressions of Arthur and Carnival together, the twitch in his eyebrow a give away that you'd be playing for an audience of two tonight.

So immersed in the overflow of sensation he was as you took him into your mouth, his only verbal response a muffled ‘F-fuck, kitten', but his whole body screamed a different story of twitches at the touch of your tongue and lips. How demure the sounds he made as he shivered over and over, his eyes shut tightly, his mouth half open, heavy breaths raising his chest, quivering lips alternating silent approvals or four letter curses, as if careful to not be caught. So painfully expressive, all you wanted was to see him melt under your touches like silver over a burning flame without a hurry in the world, your tongue tracing a tale more evocative than any words could ever express.

With each stroke of your lips, he let go to all but that intense pleasure, as if your mouth held the power to oust the very fabric of reality, offering him an escape into a wonderland he'd been denied entrance all his life. He wants to be wanted, needs to he needed, lusts to be lusted for, his quivering lips more than enough validation for that thought. As you felt his muscles unwind, his fingers tremoring, his breath traversing his trembling body, you'd made him float in an isolation tank of indulgence. When you stopped, his voice would growl and whimper in reflex, the purring sounds begging for more. Some would call it schadenfreude, you called it your tiny overdose in hearing him say 'please' as you teased and inflamed him. His taste in your mouth, his smooth texture, his delicate skin, you wanted nothing more than to lock that door and trap him in this perpetual state of bliss. For eternity wouldn't be enough to put together all his broken pieces, but it would be a start.

The meekness in his jade eyes was wrenching, yet as he looked into yours, you quickly understood why. You couldn't hear his silent whispers, yet you knew he was begging for more as the throb in your mouth intensified and his whimpering green eyes slid to the back of his head, his palms clenching the couch so forcefully he could tear into it. It mattered no less as you felt him completely let go throb after throb, his body convulsing in spasms, the taste of him ambrosia hidden from all other mortals.

His head sunk deep in the couch pillow, his arms and body heavy and immobile, breath ragged, he giggled for the first time that day, a laugh so genuine it felt foreign to both of you, a rattled stranger you both wanted to welcome in and nurture back to his feet. As he lay sprawled on your couch, naked and ecstatic, you wished he was happy, for once. You needed a minute to freshen up, and as you returned to shut the windows and lay a blanket over him, he'd almost dozed off from exhaustion.

You sunk next to him as slick as a cat, laying him onto your chest and fondling your fingers in his damp cocoa hair, his limbs latching at you rendering you almost breathless with the radiating warmth of his body.

‘Kitten, I… I don't know how to thank you…’, he whispered in the nook of your neck, asleep had his flesh not sweetly twitched him back to a half awake state. ‘I've been off my medication for a few days, but I might have found an endless supply of pure morphine…’. His body had finally rested its convulsion, his limbs falling heavier, his breath slower, within a few seconds of his thought his eyes already moved spastically under heavy eyelids.

He was right, he'd found pure morphine, and so had you. It would consume you both, but him in your arms was that feeling humanity had sought since its birth. A once in a lifetime adventure they'd write sonnets about in the past, one that was yours to experience and live through with Arthur. That morphine had just kicked in for both, and you were floating on a cloud high above the thunder slowly roaring away in the night.

------------------

Thank you for reading this far! ❤

A special thanks to a few of the lovely people in this community that inspires me to keep putting my odes to Arthur on paper:

@wuika @iartsometimes @impulsiveclown @arthurflecc @littlebird92 @life-or-something-like-lt @jokers-puddin-pop @arthurfleckownsmysoul @jokersdoll @bananabreaddough @paperorigami @ransomguest49 @daydreamhustler @arthurjokersgirl @forever-fleck @sweet-nothings04 jokerlicious @ajokeformur-ray @shaw-2000 @jaraysha1121 @jofic059​ @shit-i-love-clowns

#joaquin phoenix joker #joker arthur fleck #arthur fleck #joaquin phoenix #joker #joker fanfic #joker x reader #joker x you

[storiesforallfandoms]

busy ~ jeff wittek

word count:

request?: no

description: when life makes it impossible to go on a first date, jeff decides to plan one that he will not let fall through

pairing: jeff wittek x female!reader

warnings: none

masterlist

Online dating was always hit or miss. Either you meet someone who was super crazy, or someone who was really nice but it never worked out. Tinder was that, but, whether they were crazy or nice, the only thing anyone wanted to do was hook up.

You were ready to completely give up on Tinder when you were matched with Jeff Wittek, a YouTube barber who was well known for being friends with David Dobrik.

You clicked right away. Within a matter od days, you were planning your first date. The only trouble was neither of you had the time for the date. You were an intern at the Los Angeles hospital, so you basically worked six days a week, and Jeff was always travelling with David. It got to a point where you both stopped trying to plan the date and just hoped it would happen naturally.

You got into your car after a particularly long day and put your head against the steering wheel. You felt exhausted and you couldn’t wait to sleep for like 12 hours.

You checked our phone to see you had a text from Jeff. It read: “Hey! Hope you’re having a good day at work. Call me when you’re off?” It was accompanied by a smiley and a blushing smiley emoji. You couldn’t help but smile, happy to hear from him after such a long day.

The phone rang maybe two times before Jeff picked up. “Hey!”

“Hi,” you responded with a smile, happy to hear his voice.

“How was your day at work?” Jeff chuckled when he heard your long sigh. “That bad?”

“Not bad, just tiring,” you responded.

“Tomorrow is your day off, right?” You hummed in response, looking forward to the time off. “Do you have plans tonight?”

“Sleep.”

“Do you mind putting sleep on hold? I have our first date ready here at my place if you're up for it.”

Any exhaustion you were feeling suddenly melted away. You were now feeling energized and excited.

“I’ll text you my address, get ready and come over, dress comfy.”

“O - Okay,” you stutter out. “See you then.”

You drove home and got ready as quickly as possible. You took a quick shower, partly drying your hair and putting it up in a bun. Jeff told you to dress comfy, but you decided to wear a pair of leggings that were comfy but also made your butt look good, and an oversized hoodie.

When you were sure you were ready, you drove to his apartment. You were so nervous you could barley sit still. The drive was just barley ten minutes but it felt like an hour long. The elevator ride up to his apartment felt even longer. By the time you finally reached his apartment, you were so nervous you felt like you were going to be sick. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves and knocked at the door.

The first good sign you had was the sound of a dog barking. When Jeff opened the door, a little French bulldog raced out and started sniffing you and jumping up on your legs. You were more than happy to greet him with some ear scratches.

“Damn, Nerf, I just met the girl face to face and you’re already stealing her from me?” Jeff questioned, taking hold of the dog and pulling him away from you.

You looked up at Jeff, almost feeling intimidated by his height. He stood an easy foot over you, and even through the t-shirt he was wearing you could see his muscles. While you definitely weren’t someone who judged people for their looks, you definitely weren’t upset over what you were seeing from Jeff.

“It’s nice to finally see you face to face,” he said, a wide smile on his face. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“It’s nice to finally see you, too,” you told him.

You weren’t sure if you should hug him, maybe just shake his hand, or just walk into the apartment and see what Jeff had planned for your first date. Luckily, he took initiative and pulled you into a warm hug. You melted in his arms almost immediately. It felt right being there, the next good sign.

He led you into his apartment. The lights were off, excited for some dim lighting coming from the living room. When you walked in you saw that he had a blanket fort set up with fairy lights strung across the top of it. Inside the fort, Jeff had a laptop set up and blankets and pillows set up over the floor.

“I figured, you’d be tired after a long day,” Jeff explained. “I thought a more relaxing first date would be a blanket fort and a movie. You’re welcome to stay over if you want, too. That’s totally up to you. If you fall asleep, I won’t wake you up.”

“This is so cute,” you told him. “I love it. What movie are we watching, though?”

“I don’t know. I thought I’d let you decide. Most of what I watch is super action-y or trashy comedy and I wasn’t sure if you liked either of those genres so you can pick.”

“I love trashy comedy,” you said. “Anything Adam Sandler I’m a sucker for.”

“Oh that’s fantastic. If you didn’t like trashy Adam Sandler I honestly don’t know if I’d be able to continue this relationship.”

You felt yourself blushing when he said “relationship”. You weren’t really sure what to consider the two of you. Whenever people asked, you told them you were “talking to someone”, but since you hadn’t gone on your first date you weren’t sure if this was considered a relationship or not. If Jeff was considering it one, that must mean it was then, right?

You crawled into the tent and Jeff followed. He picked a movie, you both decided on the first Grown Ups movie. As he settled back against the pillows, Jeff pulled you to him, letting you cuddle into him.

Everything felt so natural, like this wasn’t your first time meeting in person. Laying there next to him, cuddling into his side, watched the movie together while your eyelids started to grow heavy. It all felt so familiar instead of being something new. You figured the months of talking definitely helped to ease the nervousness and the tension that a first date usually brought, which you were definitely grateful for.

You felt yourself starting to nod off and jolted awake when you felt your head suddenly lull forward. Jeff’s chest vibrated under your ear as he chuckled.

“You want to go to bed?” he asked.

“No,” you lied, but you knew he didn’t believe you. “I can’t stay over, I would feel too bad.”

“Well I’m not letting you drive home when you’re mere seconds away from falling asleep,” he told you. “My couch is a pullout bed, you can sleep on that if you don’t feel comfortable in the blanket fort.”

“Oh no, I’m definitely sleeping in the fort. I haven’t slept in one in years,” you said.

He chuckled. “Yeah, me neither. I started thinking they were lame when I became a teenager, but honestly nothing is more cool than a blanket fort.”

“Blanket fort with homemade cookies,” you correct him. “That’s way cooler.”

“Ah man, I should’ve gotten cookies. That definitely would’ve sealed the deal, wouldn’t it?”

You nodded, looking at him very seriously. “Oh yeah. This whole date is a bust because no cookies.”

“Fuck,” he silently swore. “I really thought things were going well.”

You both laughed as you pushed yourself to sit up, facing Jeff. “But seriously, this whole night is amazing. This - ” you gesture to the fort. “ - this is amazing. This is honestly the sweetest thing a guy has ever done for me.”

Jeff propped himself up on his elbow. “It’s just a blanket fort. It’s pretty simplistic for a first date.”

“The fact that you went out of your way to work around our schedules for the date in general means a lot to me,” you admit. “I’ve talked to guys who find out I work nearly 12 hours six days a week and they almost immediately give up on me. My last serious relationship we broke up because he didn’t like that I took the intern job without telling him first.”

“That’s awful,” Jeff said. “Those guys obviously don’t deserve you, then. Which is fine, cause their loss is my gain.”

You felt yourself blushing again. You pulled your hoodie up around your face so he wouldn’t see. Jeff laughed and sat up. He took your hoodie down from your face and cupped your cheeks. Before you knew what was happened, Jeff pulled you forward and kissed you.

You were frozen at first, not sure what to do, but slowly you melted into the kiss. Even the first kiss, which usually was somewhat awkward, felt so right. When Jeff pulled away, you felt tingly and fuzzy on the inside.

“So, how many months do I have to wait for the second date?” Jeff asked.

You made a face like you were thinking before responding, “How about tomorrow morning? I’ll make breakfast.”

Jeff smiled. “That sounds perfect to me.”

#jeff wittek #jeff wittek imagine #jeff wittek x reader #the vlog squad #vlog #vlog squad #vlog squad imagine #imagine #one shot

[kagetsukai]

OTP ship questions

So... this ship questions list has been making the rounds, and since I’m neck-deep in trying to finish up the story for Sam and Benji, I’ve decided to fill out ALL OF THEM. In one go. I’m extra, sue me.

(under a cut cuz I actually like you people) :P

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

1. How did they first meet?

Sam moved to Wayhaven and into Benji’s apartment complex. They didn’t start talking until Sam was getting mugged while on her run, Benji jumped in to help her, and then she punched him on accident. Benji does like to call it “love at first punch”

2. What was their first impression of each other?

Total heart eyes on both sides. They are both total cuties and they were eyeing each other before they actually started talking. Benji thought Sam was a little withdrawn and grumpy, while Sam thought Benji was really weird for grinning like a maniac all the time.

3. Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

I mean, Tina was the driving force from the very beginning and super invested in those two idiots getting together. Once it was apparent how cute Sam and Benji were together, the entire damn town wanted them to get/stay together. Sam’s cousin Liz was like “please enjoy yourself with the man”. Hell, even Benji’s ex was happy for them!

4. Who felt romantic feelings first?

Benji. The man wears his heart on his sleeve AND is incapable of holding back. He also has more experience with knowing what such emotions feel like so he can recognize them quicker. He’ll also claim that he fell in love with Sam the moment she punched him, so there’s that.

5. Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Both of them, actually! There’s a time limit on how long Sam will be staying in Wayhaven so both of them knew falling in love was a very bad idea. But they are so well-suited for each other that it was inevitable.

6. If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

I think there would be an overwhelming “hell yeah!” on both accounts, because of how strongly they feel for each other. Sam would feel a sense of relief, because she grew up hearing stories of how her sperm donor (aka bio dad) just impregnated her mother and left her behind, so knowing Benji would actually stay and love her would be a happy news. Benji would be ecstatic to know Sam is his soulmate and would probably tell everybody who stopped long enough to be told. Deep down, he’d still doubt himself and the knowledge, because he has a long history of abandonment. Even with regular reminders, he’d still be afraid that Sam would decide one day that there had been a mistake and leave.

7. What would their lives be like if they had never met?

Sam would become a bonafide workaholic with a limited number of friends - to Liz’s constant frustration. If she managed to find someone that she liked well enough, she’d probably settle down with them eventually, but maybe not feel a great passion for them. Just a decent, average life in California.

Benji would have gotten together with Felix and have a happy, fulfilled life with him. He’d probably get turned into a vampire at some point, too.

GENERAL

1. Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

Benji initiated it. Sam rejected the idea of dating at first, but after some cajoling, she agreed to keep going out with him.

2. Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

The first date was very casual and not really an official date - they went for dinner at a crab shack. Their second date was a little more dressy, with a dinner and a movie, and they both put in more effort into everything.

3. What was their first kiss like?

Amazing. Sam got a little tipsy and decided to leave a lipstick print on Benji’s neck as a way of “flirting”. Since the man is a slut for neck kisses, he took that as an invitation to have proper kisses and smooched her senseless right there and then. Sam did NOT complain.

4. Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

Sam had never had sex with a man before Benji (only had experiences with women), so it was a big deal when it happened. Benji made sure to take it slow and gave her a fantastic first-time experience.

5. What’s their height difference? Age difference?

Sam is 5’10 and Benji is 6’3, so there’s about 5 inches of difference between them. There’s about 2.5 years of difference between them in age.

6. What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Sam ends up having a decent relationship with Rebecca, after some time. It’s a little difficult to interact with someone who is barely around, but Sam tries to be nice all the same (since it’s important to Benji). She definitely has a much closer relationship with Benji’s found family, Tina and all the older ladies who appointed themselves Benji’s guardians. They all love Sam dearly and the feeling is mutual.

Benji has a fantastic relationship with Liz and her husband/kids. The kids in particular looooove hanging off Benji and using him like a jungle gym. Benji and Liz have this pact of sorts where they would murder a bitch in order to protect Sam from harm - and be each other’s alibi, too. They did start off on a slightly wrong foot, but it got cleared up quickly. That being said, Benji is not fond of Sam’s extended family - they can be challenging.

7. Who takes the lead in social situations?

Benji, always. He’s the resident extrovert and will behave like a shield for when Sam feels overwhelmed with crowds or situations.

8. Who gets jealous easier?

Benji. He rarely acts on the emotion, though. At the beginning of the relationship, he’d just get quiet and in his own head a lot; later on he’d casually bring it to Sam to make sure he has nothing to worry about. 

Sam still gets jealous, though it’s not as common. After all, her man is fucking sexy and *of course* women would want to poach him. Gotta stay vigilant.

9. Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

They are BOTH culprits of that one. Very often those are VERY explicit things, but mostly it’s just passing comments or even just sexy glances. Those two are *into* each other.

LOVE

1. Who said “I love you” first?

Sam, strangely enough. Having your life flash before your eyes sure makes you more willing to take chances with love ;)

2. What are their primary love languages?

Sam

Give: Acts of service, touch Receive: Quality time, touch

Benji: Give: Quality time, touch Receive: Touch, quality time

3. Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

Benji, hands down. He’s a cheeseball.

4. How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

As often as they can get away with it. They are both touch starved idiots with a variety of abandonment issues, so being glued to each other is a natural state for them.

5. Who initiates kisses?

Benji, more often than not. He craves that physical reassurance from Sam ALL the time.

6. Who’s the big and little spoon?

Benji will want to be the little spoon as often as he can get away with it. He loves being held and having his hair played with, so settling half of his body into Sam’s lap is literally his favorite thing. That being said, when they sleep, he’s usually the big spoon.

7. What are their favorite things to do together?

Hiking and being active. When Benji was recovering from his stint at the hospital after Murphy, Sam would go with him on hikes to make sure he wasn’t pushing himself too much physically. Then they never stopped. Benji loves going places to photograph Sam for the millionth time. They will also go to the gym together, if their schedules align. They also love doing the couch potato things together: watching movies/Netflix or him playing video games while her feet are draped all over him as she reads her current murder mystery.

8. Who’s better at comforting the other?

Sam might be just a little better at it than Benji, but only because he has shitty impulse control and often will blurt out things he shouldn’t. Sam will generally sit and listen to Benji, cuddle him, pet his hair, etc. Benji will do similar things, but his need to crack jokes about inappropriate things gets him in trouble relatively often.

9. Who’s more protective?

Benji. He would NOT hesitate to murder a person in cold blood to keep Sam safe. It’s not exactly a healthy thing, but we all know the man needs therapy.

10. Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Benji is a cuddle monster and would be wrapped around Sam 24/7 if allowed. That being said, since Sam is a little reserved about verbalizing her feelings for him, anytime she says “I love you” first, he feels absolutely ecstatic.

Sam’s family wasn’t a very outwardly affectionate people, so she’s not used to either type of displays? That being said, since Benji is always a walking furnace, she absolutely loves when he gives her cuddles. It’s her favorite thing.

11. What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

*opens up their playlist*

Camila Cabello - Easy Amber Run - I Found Dermot Kennedy - Power Over Me X Ambassador - Unsteady Hozier - Work Song

12. What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

Benji calls Sam “baby” all the time. She usually just calls him Benji, but also occasionally “mi carino” or “my love”. Pretty sure he dies every time she calls him “my love”.

13. Who remembers the little things?

I feel like they’re both pretty good about remembering the little things. Sam is better about remembering significant dates, but that’s because she has a digital calendar and isn’t afraid to use it :P

DOMESTIC LIFE

1. If they get married, who proposes?

Benji is the one who proposes. It happens on a random night while getting ready for bed, while they’re both in the bathroom in their bedclothes. It’s adorable and very them.

2. What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

The wedding would most likely happen in Wayhaven. I can’t imagine either Benji or Sam wanting a huge ceremony, but since they’ve become the town’s favorite lovebirds, it kind of goes out of control. Once some of their supernatural friends get involved, it really goes a little crazy. It ends up happening at a city park so it can fit all of the attendees. Some of Sam’s family flies in from out of town. Tina is Benji’s best “man” and Liz is Sam’s matron of honor. Benji absolutely loses his shit when he sees Sam in the wedding dress walking down the aisle and totally disrupts the ceremony to try to kiss her out of turn. Other than a ridiculous number of people there (seriously, probably at least half of the town shows up), it’s a pretty chill party, with lots of remembrance of Sam’s mom and Benji’s dad. Let’s just say it was a good day :)

3. How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

There are a few AUs for these dorks, but in most of those they have two kids: a girl and a boy. Ella is precocious, outgoing, clever, and energetic. Liam is a giant cuddle bug with a gorgeous smile and a big heart, who prefers to tinker with things in a workshop than get involved with his older sister’s shenanigans.

4. Do they have any pets?

They eventually end up with two dogs that they take on their hikes. They only have one dog for the longest time because apartment living isn’t exactly conducive to pet ownership. Once they get a house, they expand their menagerie. There might be a stray cat they sorta adopt, too.

5. Who’s the stricter parent?

Sam, hands down. Benji is a giant pushover for his wife and children, and would let his kids climb all over him, as long as they were happy.

6. Who worries the most?

That really depends on what about. Benji is perpetually worried about keeping his family safe and provided for. Sam has anxiety about a variety of small things and it’s not hard for her to worry about random stuff.

7. Who kills the bugs in the house?

Depends on the bugs. Benji loathes spiders so Sam’s in charge of removing those. Sam absolutely cannot deal with centipedes and roaches, so Benji gets to kill those.

8. How do they celebrate holidays?

When it’s just the two of them, they either go visit one of their friends in town and spend it with them. Once kids arrive, they do holidays at home and tend to go big in the food department. Rebecca is always invited, but it depends on whether she can make it that time or not. They like it when holidays are warm and filled with happiness/laughter.

9. Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Benji. If he’s not working that morning, he would not want to leave the bed and would do everything in his power to keep Sam in there.

10. Who’s the better cook?

Sam. Benji isn’t terrible at it, but Sam is so much better that he rarely bothers with it. Also, Sam tends to treat cooking as stress relief (chopping veggies is great anger management), so he lets her do the thing in peace. That being said, if she’s too tired to cook, or it’s been a long day, or the kids are demanding her attention, Benji feels comfortable enough in the kitchen to take over and make dinner.

11. Who likes to dance?

Sam, hands down. Her mom loved to dance so she grew up around it. Unfortunately, Benji has two left feet so she doesn’t have many opportunities to flex those muscles (outside of occasional slow-dancing in the kitchen). She will occasionally drag Tina out for a night of dancing and go to a salsa club. It can really hit the spot.

#oc: Samantha Lopez #foc: Benjamin Fox #Samji #the ship that occupies my brain #living rent free in my head

[dawnhardn]

INTRODUCING... DAWN HARDIN

stitch by stitch, i tear apart if brokenness is a form of art i must be a poster child prodigy

Name: Dawn Hardin

Gender: cis woman

Age: forty-four

Sexuality: bisexual

Height: 5'4

Home District: capitol

Status: stylist

TW FOR FULL BIO: infertility, loss of body autonomy, hospital mention, mention of bugs.

i. of growing up

The mystery that has plagued her entire life is this: Dawn doesn't know her beginning. She knows all about the day she was adopted, oh, that's the part her parents boast about; her entire childhood, all she heard about was how she was saved. Only a toddler when she was plucked from District Nine, with nothing but scraps for clothes and a small pendant on a necklace with Nine's symbol, she doesn't remember much. She doesn't know where her story begins, nothing before that fateful day when she stumbled into her new parents' arms, kicking and crying, a child begging to be loved. Sometimes, when it's really quiet at night, she thinks she can still hear the wheat rustling with the gentle wind.

They were fine folk, her parents, but they had a hard time differentiating between love and possession. She grew up having everything she could ever want when it came to money; the prettiest dresses, the accessories, the hairs, the coolest toys and all the books her arms could carry. And they gave her attention, too. They gave her tenderness, sometimes. They loved her, but in their own way. She always needed to prove herself to them, she was always scrambling for their acceptance. She was their shiny trophy, the poor girl who had to be grateful to be living such a luxurious life, the lucky one, out of so many other less fortunate orphans. They never let her forget that, and despite loving them, too, she was always aching for something more.

When she's young and they push her to work in the Games, she obliges, like she always does. The yearly horror show often makes her avert her eyes from the television, sure, but she can pull her lips back and offer a smile and lie her way through this. Styling was the easiest option to stay far enough away from the carnage, and although it protected her from having to consider some of the more dreadful aspects of the Game, it didn't keep her from mourning every single loss. Every kid that wore her creations was held so dearly to her heart, even when she was just starting. The motherly instinct she felt towards them was something she couldn't hold it in if she tried. The pain of loss never gets easier to face, no matter how much the pile of bodies under her grows.

ii. of loving

She grew up thinking love was a fighting game, one step out of line and you lost it. She thought love meant buying shiny things, and parading around parties, and choking back tears. She had partners in her teenage years, silly flings here and there that never went anywhere, and she thought that was it. Love wasn't unconditional, love wasn't for everyone. 

Like a moth who couldn't find a flame, by her young adult years Dawn had accepted that she was destined to flap her wings around the darkness aimlessly until she tired herself out. And despite all this emptiness, she still carried her heart in her sleeve, a safety hazard as much as it was her biggest strength. Her hands always ready to help someone in need, she was always scrambling to give out the kind of unconditional love she never got from her parents, an empty cup pouring itself to fill others.

Then, she met Aeron. He was kind, and gentle, and he might as well be the Sun itself for the way he warmed up every room he walked into. The connection between them felt immediate, something sharp and undeniable, like the stars had always known their names. Dawn feels as if she can breathe for the first time in years.

She was born to be a mother, she knows this now. She'd grown up mothering every living thing that passed her way, and for a while there, she thought that would be enough; taking care of tributes, taking care of friends, taking care of fleeting lovers. But once she meets Aeron, she realizes the itch runs much deeper. It's a consuming desire, electric all through her body, how badly she wants to have children running around their house. Little ones to climb up the tree in their backyard, and draw on walls, and fill up the house with laughter. Aeron wants to be a father, too. Everything works out perfectly in her life, until it doesn't.

iii. of fighting

She can't dedicate herself to a family while she's still overworked by the Capitol, so when she puts in the request to retire, it's only because it feels fitting. She has an excuse to be let go, and they have an excuse to find a better stylist to put in her place. Someone more passionate, someone with more drive. She's already twenty-eight, she's sure there are handfuls of much younger, much more talented people out there they can choose from.

They don't let her retire. While at first, she thought she was offering them a perfectly balanced way out, now she realizes she was begging. And they hadn't obliged. She'll never forget the way Aeron's face fell when she told him the news, and the way he'd marched out of their house the very next morning, to fight for their future. To fight for her.

The next day, when she comes back home, exhausted and longing for her partner, she notices his coat isn't hanging by the door. There aren't any pots on the stovetop with dinner ready, waiting for her. There aren't extra shoes by the door, no notes on the fridge. She rushes to their bedroom to find none of his clothes in their closet, his toothbrush, his medicine, everything he ever touched, gone. Wiped from existence. She would've thought herself completely insane if it wasn't for the ring still on her finger, his initials written into it.

That's the message they send, to warn her never to stand up again. They send silence. No matter how many times she asks, they never tell her what they did to him. She can be on her knees, she can be pulling her hair out; she has barged into offices screaming until she had to be dragged away by security, and they still never give her anything. Nothing except a few more threats to remind her of the leash they have around her neck. They tug, and she follows.

iv. of giving up

There's no way around it, she knows, and once she understands that, something in her dies. She settles for the reality of never having her loved one back, and it kills her, too. If before she was a searching moth, now she has been caught by the capitol, her delicate wings pinned to an exhibitional board and drying out.

She continues working for them, and with every passing year, she's less and less inspired. The critics drive into her, looking to sink their teeth into easy prey, reminding her she's doing a terrible job any chance that they can. These jabs never work their way under her skin, because there's a state of numbness after she accepts the loss of Aeron in her life. Her dreams, her love, her everything, gone so quickly, ripped from her arms without notice. She has no hopes of him even being alive.

There's numbness, and it's almost uneventful because of it. She feels like she's barely living anymore, simply surviving to get by, pushing one foot after the other to keep moving. There's a spark of wrath somewhere, a flicker of red in the darkness of her chest that leaps around every once in a while, but her own dullness doesn't let it thrive. Another year passes, another Games she works on. That year, when she's sending her kids off to battle, her vision fails her.

She can't remember collapsing, but it must've been what happened. One minute she's within the Game headquarters feeling dizzy, the next minute she's waking up in a doctor's office. Her body shakes with shivers, her hands are as pale as the gown they have her wearing. The staff looks at her with pity, their eyes avoiding hers like they're hiding something. They speak in terms she's never heard of, and they're not direct when she demands to know what happened, but the gist of it is this -- there's more pain for her to carry in her life. She's been poisoned -- they don't tell her how --, and the substance has rotten her insides. She's pushed out of the hospital with the diagnosis of a lifetime of migraines, occasional shaky hands, and the inability to ever have children. That's when she understands the message they're sending.

And she feeds the spark in her chest until it turns into a forest fire.

v. of loving ii

When she loves these kids, now, it's almost out of spite. That's the one thing the Capitol can't take from her, the one thing they've tried beating out of her when they killed her spirits. They almost succeeded, too. They made her feel weak, hopeless, nothing more than an undead carcass dragging herself around without a goal. She won't let them do it, ever again.

So she loves the kids. She doesn't turn away from the screens anymore, she feels every splatter of blood, she cries for every death. She loves them endlessly, and without reservation, and without fear. She offers warm arms they can run into, and a shoulder to cry on, and a caring hand to push their hairs back. If the Capitol wants to kill her for this, then so be it. 

She'll accept death knowing she went down with a goddamn fight.

#intro ;; #could not resist the urge to pick this dumb gif #tl;dr she's the local mom with a sad backstory!!! #still working on sliding into everyones dms pls hold!!

[sparklingchan]

GOT7 AU

GOT7 when their s/o gets hurt /injured.

A/N: Mostly headcanons because I was too lazy XD.Also,tumblr kind of messed up the order so I had to put Jinyoung at the end .

Warnings : None

Enjoy!

1. Mark Tuan

He was at the company when he gets a call from your colleague, telling him that you fell down the stairs while at work.

WORRIED SICK

So anxious he is barely able to drive himself to the hospital.

When he sees your bandaged foot,he almost tears up (and blinks the tears away immediately)

Engulfs you in the warmest hug ever!!!

"Let's go home,we have to nurse you back to health "

Takes care of you and pampers you so much

CUDDLES AND KISSES

2. Im Jaebum

Was in his studio when he received a call from your roommate that you slipped and fell in the bathroom this morning.

Rushes to your apartment as soon as he can.

You expect his first instinct would be to comfort you but rather he gives you an earful for being careless.

But he melts completely when you pout

Hugs you tight and places soft kisses on your head.

"You worry me so much,y/n "

Would stay with you for the next few days and work from home.

Sings you to sleep every night.

3. Jackson Wang

Would initially think that you're pranking him when you told him you were at the hospital with a broken arm.

Is more scared and worried than anyone else.

Takes a few days off from work to be with you.

Makes you laugh so much that you almost forget about you're injury.

Cooks for you whenever you feel hungry.

Movie nights and couch cuddles!!!

Will probably write something cheesy or funny on your plastered hand.

"It hurts me when you get hurt"

4. Choi Youngjae

He knows you are a skateboard maniac so it doesn't surprise him when you come home with injured elbows and knees.

Shakes his head in disbelief as he cleans your wounds and bandages them.

"Don't you dare go out till you're completely fine "

Makes sure you're eating a lot and keeps a check on your medicine intake.

Takes you out on short walks whenever you feel restless staying at home.

Sings your favorite songs for you.

Kisses and kisses and kisses.

Plays with you and coco the whole day.

5. Kunpimook Bhuwakul

Like Jackson,he might initially think you were joking when you told him you fell down while practicing dance for an event in your college.

Would bring you over to his house so he can take better care of you.

"Do you want me to carry you to the dining room ? "

Midnight jamming sessions.

Buys whatever you want,no matter how expensive it is.

Clicks selfies with you (mostly with hilarious filters on)

Loves cuddling with you and his cats ;it makes you feel so whole.

Cheers you up when you feel sad for not being able to perform at your college fest.

Unexpected romantic moments ;-)

6. Kim Yugyeom

Will yell at you when he finds out you injured yourself while cleaning the house.

NAGGING 24/7

Doesn't let you do any chores for next few days (more like forever)

Cooks,cleans and works without a single complaint.

Spends the whole day with you watching movies or YouTube videos.

Secretly takes funny pictures of you so he can blackmail you later on.

Buys three tubs of your favorite ice cream.

Makes sure you're comfortable at all times.

7. Park Jinyoung

Just like JB and Yugyeom, he would be a little angry to see you injured.

"Who the hell has bicycle accidents, y/n?"

Takes you to the hospital to get you checked up.

Hugs you tight because he doesn't like seeing you hurt.

Cooks delicious food for you.

Takes you on late evening drives if you ever complain of getting bored at home.

Secretly likes having you home the whole day,all to himself.

Plays with your hair as he lulls you to sleep.

#kpop au #kpop #kpop imagine #kpop imagines #jyp entertainment #jyp got7 #got7 mark #got7 #got7 imagines #got7 au #got7 ff #got7 fanfic #got7 fanfiction #got7 scenarios #got7 jackson #got7 bambam #jinyoung #jaebom #yugyeom #youngjae #igot7 #got7 igot7 #romance #fluff #kpop angst #kpop smut #kpop ff #kpop fluff

[athenaquinn]

Crossing a Bridge || Orion & Athena

TIMING: After the events with Luis (apologies for delay!) LOCATION: Cafe near UMWC PARTIES: @3starsquinn and @athenaquinn SUMMARY: Athena comes to help Orion. The twins try the talking thing again. CONTENT: Mentions of abuse, brief mentions of cleaning injuries

The restaurant was a wreck. Outside of the blood and bodies, broken glass and plates littered the floor. There was food everywhere and the tables and chairs were overturned and broken. Orion sat outside of it, staring inside through the glassless window without actually seeing anything. He was staring more into space than at anything in particular. The only thing he could see were scenes on repeat from earlier. Police and paramedics rotated in and out of the building, helping lead people from the kitchen out to ambulances. Rio’s mind was too fuzzy to figure out how many there were in total. How many people had died tonight before Rio had done something to stop the wolf? Just more people on his conscience.

He had refused medical attention initially. Shrugging off their advances and insisting that they check on the people still inside the restaurant. Avoiding the hospital was always the smartest option, but even he could admit that the wounds he had suffered tonight were far worse than the usual ones that he would shrug off. His shoulder and leg ached from where the wolf had bitten him. His hoodie hung in tatters on his side and back, exposing the open wounds from where he had drug his claws down Rio’s back. On top of that, his previously grey hoodie was now soaked a dark red color. It had begun drying, caking on a thick layer that forced the material to stick against his skin and pull against his wounds whenever Rio moved. His hands were stained with the same blood, something that he had unknowingly smeared across his face at some point. At some point, the police must have taken pity on the mostly silent kid with trauma and grabbed his things from inside. He wasn’t sure if they used his wallet to get his name or if Rio had simply forgotten that he gave it to them, but it wasn’t long before a familiar figure was weaving through the police cars and up to Rio. No surprise that if they were going to call someone, it would be the only known living family that he had left. “Hi there.”

She didn’t know how to respond to her brother’s frantic message. Athena only knew that she was starting to loathe the idea of him being in danger even more than she’d ever done so before. Which was saying quite a bit, given that she considered herself afraid of very few things but her brother ever coming to harm was undoubtedly one of them. Which was more ironic than she’d ever have wished it to be, given that she had - both indirectly and directly - been one of the causes of most significant harm to him. But now their parents weren’t around and that meant that things had to get better, didn’t it? She wasn’t naïve enough to believe that everything would be simple now, but part of her hoped that maybe what they had done would change something.  It had, in a way, she supposed - because she couldn’t think of the last time that the two of them had talked as much as they were now, despite the fact that they’d entirely avoided talking for weeks after everything that had happened.

Still, it meant a lot that instead of someone else he’d called her. Athena didn’t even think about where she was driving, she knew the cafe and so drove over from the apartment practically on autopilot, parking a few blocks away and quickly rushing over, the sound of her boots a clear reminder on the sidewalk. “I know what I’m doing.” She scoffed, pushing through the small crowd of people and the police. “My brother called me, I’m allowed to be here.” She looked straight at one of them, a man who was at least half a foot taller than she was but who shrank away the second she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. Once he’d backed away, she found her way over to where Rio was sitting, up against the wall. “What happened?” Her voice was hushed. “Let me look you over.”

It was Orion’s goal to avoid his sister’s eye contact as much as physically possible. He had no idea how she would react to what had happened tonight, but he was absolutely sure that he wouldn’t like her opinion either way. Whether she was proud of him or thought he was an idiot, both would only work to make Rio feel even worse about himself. Probably because he had spent so long craving his sister’s approval while simultaneously detesting it more than anybody else’s. His breathing was heavy even though his need to catch his breath had passed long ago. He knew that meant it was the start of his panicking. He desperately needed to keep that under control. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a panic attack in front of his sister, but he wasn’t planning on breaking the record today. “There was a wolf” Rio stated simply. He knew she would demand greater details, but for now that was all he could manage. “A werewolf” Rio finally amended, tacking the last bit on just for clarification. At Athena’s insistence, Rio motioned to the empty space beside him. She could do whatever examination she wanted, but it would have to be one that didn’t involve much movement from him. He was far too sore and tired for that. “They want to take me to the hospital.”

At least the paramedics and police were leaving them alone for the moment. Athena wasn’t sure how long it would last - which meant that she had to act fast, whatever she was going to do. Except she felt herself freeze, at least for a moment, and just look at her brother, her eyes wide, as she reminded herself that he’d asked her to come and that had to mean something. “Hey, it’s okay.” Her hand found his shoulder, cautious to the touch, because the two of them had spent so long at each other’s throats (by their parents own design), that falling into something simple and practically delicate felt more surreal than anything else. Perhaps that was possible, again, no matter how odd and overwhelming the thought might have been. “I - oh my god.” She said, her voice low. “I -” she opened up her bag, pulling out a small, travel-sized bottle of disinfectant and one of the many pieces of cloth that she had on her. She readjusted her position, leaning back up against the wall, nearly-though-not-quite mirroring his position. “I mean, you probably should go, but I’d like to at least get a general look-over before they take you. Do you - I can - what happened? I can come to the hospital if you want?” She ran her fingertips along the collar of his shirt, noticing the injury on his shoulder. “What would best help right now?”

Before Orion realized it, Athena was on the ground with him. Unsurprisingly, she looked in far better shape than he did. He was almost glad that the dim lighting of the streetlights and sirens limited people’s visions. Between that and the blood soaked clothes, it was almost easy to miss how bad Rio’s wounds probably were. Especially if it had been done to an ordinary human. Rio’s vision granted him too many details into the sight. Sometimes night vision was a curse. “They killed people.” Rio began, the only real way that he knew to begin the story. Rio’s life had been all sympathy for werewolves, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about the way the werewolf had ruthlessly taken out those people. “I tried to stop it and it didn’t go so well until-” Rio could still remember how tightly he had been gripping the pocket knife. His fingers curled into a loosely formed fist out on the pavement just thinking about it. “I stabbed it. With that-” stupid pocket knife was what Rio had wanted to say. But it had been a gift from Athena, and probably one that had saved lives tonight. “With the pocketknife you gave me. Nice touch on those.” He didn’t argue against her checking out the wounds, though  a paramedic might have different opinions if spotting a random girl doing her own check-up. He hated the hospital. But not going would be far dumber than any other time he had avoided going. “Can you grab me clothes? I don’t want to get discharged without anything to wear. My key is in the bookbag. Ariana has one too.”

She could feel her whole body tense up - though she knew that maybe her vision wasn’t quite as good as her brother’s (she did know that her hearing wasn’t as good - his reactions to her tantrums when they were kids was proof enough of that), but she could tell he was badly injured. Not again, was all that Athena could keep thinking. “The wolf did? That’s -” what they do, she wanted to finish - her words caught in her throat, and she knew that her brother had heard the very same ones. From their parents, dozens of times, if not more. Ariana was an exception, clearly, and though Athena was hardly willing to give thoughts to figuring out more exceptions, not right now. That didn’t mean that her brother needed to hear that. He’d dealt with twenty-one years of her parroting their parents’ words and she didn’t want to do that to him now. “Awful.” she finally settled on. She let him finish what he was saying, though she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, fighting away a smirk at his next words. “Yeah, no problem. Glad it helped.” Told you so. She continued to clean his shoulder, paying no attention to everyone else around them. “Yes, of course. I’d be happy to do that. Any preferences, or should I just grab whatever I think is best?” She placed the cloth off to the side and grabbed a new, clean one as her fingers ghosted over his leg. “Though this is it for hospital visits, alright? I’m not super keen to place merry-go-round with hospital visits with you.” At least she hadn’t had to, with Deirdre. Something she figured she should mention to Rio at some point, but that wasn’t the focus right now. At least Deirdre hadn’t been the one to hurt him. At least that was something - and he was immune to the bites. “How are you going to explain this to all the very human doctors at the hospital? Wild animal?”

Athena was being surprisingly careful, a personality trait that Orion wasn’t used to when it came to her. Admittedly, that had been happening a lot with her recently. But it wasn’t any less jarring for Rio to try to process. She had managed to get through Rio’s explanation without any bragging or signs of blatant disgust at the mention of a werewolf. He watched the way that the gears turned in her head as she handpicked the words that she wanted to speak. Since when did Athena do any prior thinking before speaking? “Yeah, it wasn’t a pretty sight.” Especially having to watch and listen to it happening in real time. He still couldn’t get the image of the waitress out of his head. “No. It doesn’t matter what you grab. As long as it’s a hoodie.” He flinched at her touch but tried to stay as still as he could. “Well it’s definitely not my goal to end up in the hospital again. I don’t even want to go now.” Athena was right that they would be asking a lot of questions when he got there. “I guess I planned on doing what I’m best at. Staying silent. Maybe they’ll think I'm some traumatized kid and the rest of the people can fill in the blanks for me.” Technically Rio was some traumatized kid. But not nearly in the way that any of them could expect.

“I’d be alarmed if you believed it were, Ri.” She knew he could see her raise an eyebrow. “Even with… well, even with how you see things, I don’t think you’d find this kind of destruction pretty.” Athena’s fingers fiddled with Amanda’s ring as she continued to work to help her brother - still mostly one-handed given the fact that her cast was still there, but at least she could help him. Help someone, unlike with Amanda. She wanted to ask her brother more about what happened, but this wasn’t the time. “One hoodie and other assorted and coordinated clothes, coming right up.” She’d probably sneak in some food as well, though she wasn’t about to let him know, because knowing her brother he’d find some excuse for why she shouldn’t do that, and though she was content to ignore him, avoiding the conversation altogether was better for the both of them in the long run. “Mm, that makes two of us, but still. Going is probably better, even though I think you’ll be all healed in not too much time, though there’s a chance you’ll have some new scars.” She didn’t want to focus on her new ones now, even though she figured at some point she should mention the murderous banshee to her brother. “Hey, I think you’re actually really good at talking,” too much sometimes, “but staying silent and letting the doctors fill in the blanks for themselves works best in times like this. I mean, I did make up my own excuses for the arm but letting them make their own ideas about this is probably for the best.”

“Don’t” Orion sighed, raising a hand as a signal for Athena to stop there while she was ahead. He knew that Athena hadn’t meant it in a judgemental or hostile way, but old habits died hard. Sometimes it was still hard to imagine any conversation with Athena where she wasn’t trying to dig under his skin to mess with him. “I’m not having that conversation.” How he saw things had nothing to do with what happened tonight. Even if it had everything to do with it. Rio wasn’t in the mood to fall down that rabbit hole. “Thanks. I appreciate you grabbing it for me.” By now even though he wanted to just go back to the house and lie in the bathtub with the shower running, he probably needed to concede and go to the hospital. “I have a tendency to overtalk. That doesn’t make me social.” I just made him awkward. With all the stories that will be going around from the rest of the survivors, the police and hospital staff would be able to fill in the blanks and come up with some conclusions for the quiet kid that threw a plate at a wild animal and got attacked by it. “The paramedics coming over here,” Rio nodded towards them, “Probably means they want to take me soon.”

“I wasn’t going to,” she didn’t mean to snap back, scrunching up her face after that. Despite the fact that they were talking, Athena knew that certain things held on far more than she’d have ever liked for them to. “Fine. No conversation to be had.” She took in a deep breath for a moment. He’d asked her to help and she wanted him to keep feeling comfortable doing so. Needed him to feel that way, almost. “Of course. It’s the least I can do.” Even for things outside of this, sat there unspoken. “Besides, once they give you a lookover and some painkillers, you’ll probably be dismissed. Ideally within a few days at least.” She shrugged. “If not, let me know and I’m happy to come and talk some sense into them.” Athena raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, some might take it as social. That’s all I’m saying.” Her gaze followed his nodding. “Probably. You sure there’s nothing else I can do?” She shoved some of the fabric into her bag. “I - thanks. I’m glad you trusted me enough for this.” She looked over to him, lips pushed to the side. “Now I’ll go get you a hoodie and at least some sort of snack.”

There was just enough tension between the two of them to remind both that the whatever relationship they had left was fragile and hanging by a dangling thread. For whatever DNA they shared, so much about them fell on opposite ends of every scale available. The two had spent so long against each other that even when they were on the same side they couldn’t help but bite back at each other. For what it was worth, Athena seemed just as eager to avoid an argument as Orion was, leaving the conversation between the two quiet and nearly empty, but pleasant. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. They can’t keep me for too long.” Rio answered her just as the paramedic came up to the two and helped Rio up off of the ground and onto his legs. They shook as he was led towards an ambulance. He only turned back towards Athena once to nod his head, “I’ll see you there, okay?”

#wickedswriting #c orion #chatzy #crossing a bridge #abuse mention #injury clean up #// i love cody and rio dearly #also me? using an anastasia song as a chatzy title? #more likely than u think :)