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imarvelatthestars · 2 years

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Lioness

Notes: This fic is dedicated to my forever bestie, Kisha, who has always shared her faith, culture, and thoughts with me and she's literally changed my life in the best way possible. This is a love letter to you and everything you mean to me, albeit in kind of a weird way.

Kisha and I were talking about an idea that came to me of Marc & Khonshu interacting with a deity & avatar from outside of the Egyptian pantheon, so this is the result!

Warnings: blood, violence

Pairings: Khonshu x Durga; Marc Spector x Desi!Reader (if you squint)

Word Count: 1,661

Water laps at your bare feet and your every sense tingles, heightened, painfully aware of the world around you as it shifts with the tides. He's close; you can smell a hint of him above the sea salt - whiskey and sweat and blood.

Durga drifts behind you. Her feet don't break the surface of the beach, but the wind pulls at the jasmine in her hair and the tail of her saree as if she were really on the same physical plane as you. It doesn't really matter either way, though, because she's always with you. Always has been, always will be.

The banyan tree overhead creaks as if something heavy rests upon its branches, and the air overhead sparks with electricity and you suddenly feel very cool in the midday sun.

"How was your trip?"

"Not too bad."

He's American. Somehow, the voice matches the scent. Still, you don't turn to face him, but you continue to gaze across the ocean.

"I'm not in trouble, am I?"

It takes some effort not to roll your eyes because of course he's a wise guy, of course he's trying to be funny. Like he doesn't know.

You can just make out Durga moving in the corner of your eye, approaching the trunk of the banyan tree with her head tilted back. What she's looking at, you have no idea, but she remains silent. She just... looks. And something flutters in the breeze, something you can't see.

"You've been causing quite a bit of chaos, Mr. Spector," you say as you trace the outline of a flower into the sand.

"Call me Marc."

You stand and stretch your arms above your head, to either side, bend over and touch your toes, and you can actually hear him bristle at you ignoring him. Once the sand is dusted from your skirt and saree, you turn and give your own name.

He's handsome. Maybe too handsome. Olive skin, dark eyes, and even darker curls add up to a long, muscled, dangerous streak of a man.

"You have something that belongs to us, Marc. We'd like it back."

He smirks. "Yeah, not gonna happen, sweetheart."

Your eyes flicker to the banyan tree where Durga stands, but she is entirely unbothered. She seems focused on a particular branch that hangs out over the water. You take her disinterest to mean that this Marc Spector will be easy to defeat, that you won't need her help.

"You can fight me for it, though. If you think you'll win."

He's trying to bait you and you know it, but it's almost working. He has the audacity to steal from your goddess, to stake claim to the evidence of her justice in this twisted, muddy world, and then he thinks he can prod you like a cattle and get under your skin with that infuriating smirk? Anger flares to life inside your chest, even as you fight it, because you know better, you shouldn't be so easily goaded into fighting, you should be following Durga's example - violence out of necessity, not out of ego. But his smirk stokes your fire all the same and at some point there's just no point in holding back anymore. If Marc Spector wants a fight, then it's a fight he'll get.

You relinquish yourself to brahman and allow its power to flow through you until you are no longer just yourself. The saree around your body melts and fuses with your blouse, then bursts into a billowing kameez while your skirts splits down the middle and seams itself together around each calf. You feel a bright, warm spot begin to glow in the center of your back, stretching from your shoulder blades to nearly halfway down your spine, as your arms materialize above and around you. It feels right, it feels holy as the world folds itself around the shape of you.

The smirk on Marc's face is long gone and that fills you with pleasure. Good. At least he's sensible enough to know when to be afraid. You raise one hand above all the rest, the hand that holds Durga's sword, and lower yourself into a crouch, waiting. Your trident hands ache, clasping at nothing, and you feel your conviction burn hotter.

॰ ☆ ॰ ☽ ॰ ☆ ॰

Marc is not the kind of man to think that a woman lacks strength. If anything, women are stronger (and smarter) than any man that's ever walked the Earth, and he knows that for a fact. But he hadn't really expected much from the sweet face and quiet voice of the woman he met on the beach. He knows, in the heartbeats between watching you transform and summoning his own avatar state, that he was wrong.

He throws a crescent dagger your way. It whistles and thunks against the shield in one of your- God, how many, eighteen hands? The dagger falls into the sand and you step over it without a second glance to advance on him. All three of your eyes are burning righteous as he stumbles back in a daze. He's faced avatars and villains alike, seen and done unspeakable things, and come out the other end still alive, but this is different. He's never met someone quite so fierce or terrifying as you.

A brassy discus comes hurtling towards his face and he barely manages to duck out of the way to avoid breaking his nose. He swoops to the side and throws another two daggers, this time aimed at your nearest pair of arms. One of them lands with a sickening squelch in the flesh of your forearm, but the other lights off the tip of your mace. The angry, pained sound that comes out of you is little less than a lionesses battle cry and it's enough to bring him to his knees.

Shit, shit, shit. One of his ears is ringing. His knees are wobbly.

"Where is it?" you roar as you advance on him.

Marc raises his arm to block the blow of your mace, but half a dozen arms come swinging forward and he doesn't have enough time or leverage or body to fight them all back. Your javelin pierces through his ribcage, sliding neatly between ribs, a lung, and his spine, while your sword cuts into his stomach and four other hands all grab at his robes and cloak. At least two of your hands are tipped with the claws of a giant cat and they dig into his armor, bending and breaking it until they finally tear into his skin.

"I can rip you apart here and now, Spector, but I don't want to. Not if I don't have to." You lean in close and your lips are crimson. His stomach drops. "Where is the trishula?"

"You're not gonna get it-."

"And you don't understand the gravity of your situation."

Marc huffs and he can feel blood in his mouth. It's probably staining through the front of his mask by now. He steals a glance at the banyan tree on his right, but Khonshu is unbothered, still resting in its branches. If ever that stupid pigeon skull of his looked like it was smiling, it did now.

Your eyes are threatening to swallow him whole. "Give it to me, mercenary, and I'll let you live."

That does it. Marc summons his mask back into the void so he can see you properly. He's still on his knees and he's bleeding and impaled and furious, but this fight isn't over yet. It happens in a flash, but he throws himself back with as much force as he can muster and he flings you overhead. The javelin splinters inside him and he almost blacks out from the pain, but he presses on. He has to. He spins around, pulls your sword out of his stomach, retrieves another crescent dagger, and pins you to the ground by your collarbones.

"Let me make it real simple for you, sweetheart," and his voice is honey sweet with a hint of fire. "You and your god can still walk away from this, but I am not giving that trident back. I serve Khonshu, and I serve justice." You're mewling beneath him like an injured cat, writhing and burning in a mess of blood and gold. He pretends it doesn't make his heart drop into his gut. "And we're done here."

"Justice?" Your laugh is ice cold. "Justice? You serve a rotting vulture who makes a mockery of justice!" You try to grab for him and pull him down to your level, make it an even fight, but he just unleashes another barrage of daggers into your hands and arms until you're properly pinned. "You think you know what justice is? You think Durga isn't the mother of all things just and wise and great? You think Khonshu could ever have grasped the concept of justice without Durga's legacy before him?"

This time Marc is knocked flat onto his back. Your roar echoes in his ears and his world is spinning, even as you stagger to your feet with blood and daggers riddling your body.

॰ ☆ ॰ ☽ ॰ ☆ ॰

"Perhaps we should tell them before they-."

Khonshu shakes his head and leans a little farther back in his seat. "Not yet. Let them wrestle a little longer. I'm eager to see how Marc gets himself out of this one." He waves his hand over his lap and a long iron trident appears across his knees. "Yours, I believe?"

Durga doesn't even try to hide her smile. It materializes in her hand with the snap of a finger and shimmers into the hands of her avatar a moment later. She watches you pause mid-fight as realization sinks in. You turn, hair flying and eyes blazing, and she nods.

"Next time, beloved, you might try something a little less conspicuous." She hopes he doesn't.

He hums and rubs a finger over the curved end of his beak. "I might." But he probably won't.

#marvel #moon knight #marc spector #khonshu #durga #reader of color #desi reader #marc spector x reader #for snisha

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deborahmessingsfingers · 3 years

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I’m Tired

pairings: bo burnham x reader

word count: 3283

tags/warnings: explicit language, mental health issues, mental breakdown, angst, hurt/comfort, sad Bo, gender neutral reader

also on ao3

Bo had been off for a while. He’d only been working on the special for a few months when you noticed the first sign. He started to talk a little less, which at first glance, you weren’t too worried about. He often became quite reclusive and introspective when it came to his writing process, channeling all of his energy into planning and drafting.

It’d happened before, when he was in the early stages of producing Eighth Grade. Conversation grew thin and infrequent, all of his time and energy was spent planning, writing and ruminating, though as the process progressed from writing to filming, his sparkle returned and you could see the life and excitement dancing around in his eyes once more.

Since he started Inside, you were lucky if you got to see his eyes at all.

At first, he’d come bouncing back from the guest house each evening, excited to discuss his latest ideas and concepts, eager to receive your feedback and the fresh perspective you gave.

This routine was quick to disappear.

Every day, he’d come back from the guest house a little later and a little more deflated until your interactions were limited to a kiss good morning and a kiss good night.

Eventually he stopped coming to bed all together. You never went into the guest house so as not to disturb his flow, but you assumed he’d taken to sleeping on the fold-out couch. You’d hoped he was sleeping at least, for the sake of his well being.

You missed him. God, you missed him, more than you ever thought possible. Despite the fact that he was a mere few feet away from your front door, you felt more distanced from him now than the times he’d been on the other side of the country, touring, performing, and seeing the world.

He’d always been like that. Limitations in physical proximity could only wedge such a divide between you two, it was always the inner demons and anxieties that caused the rifts.

You attempted to rip the bandaid off after a month of the same, silent routine. You anxiously approached the guest house with the best olive branch you had available; a peanut butter sandwich and a cup of coffee. Your free hand knocked on the door of the guest house tentatively, not wanting to disturb him in the middle of something.

No answer.

You knocked again, still quietly, but with more intention.

No answer.

You shakily grasped the doorknob and twisted, your mind flicking through every dreadful outcome. Opening the door, you see one outcome you didn’t quite anticipate.

The room was dark and humid, the space overwhelmingly cluttered with miscellaneous cords, lights and stands.

And in the middle of all of the chaos, he was just… sitting there.

Hunched over the keyboard in the corner of the room. He just sat and stared at the keys, his white-knuckled fists resting on his thighs. You immediately noticed just how long his hair had grown, long enough to cover his eyes, the rest of his face hidden in it’s shadows. He appeared completely immersed in his own world, clearly missing all your attempts at grabbing his attention.

“Bosey,” you said, your tone just short of a whisper, head cocking to the side to see him a little better from the doorway. Bo inhaled sharply as his head turned to face you, seemingly pulled from his thoughts. His brow was quick to furrow.

“What’re you doing in here?” he asked. His voice was raspy and hoarse, not unlike how it sounded first thing in the morning. It reminded you so much of all the mornings spent waking up next to him, often in his arms, spending hours upon hours talking until noon about anything and everything, at least until you were cast out of your cloud of bliss by your worldly responsibilities. God, how you missed those moments.

“I thought I’d just come check on you. Didn’t think you’d eaten anything in a while so,” you paused, setting the peace offering down with a quiet clink, “thought I’d make myself useful.”

You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, and his thanks was expressed simply by mirroring your unconvincing grin. He tutted, running his hands through his hair, as he often did when nervous. You could tell he was exhausted; the bags under his eyes were so dark and he could hardly make conversation with the one person who knew him best.

The air was thick with tension, the awkwardness quickly made you both uncomfortable and your head was reeling with anxieties on how you wound up feeling like this; like an unwelcome stranger in your own guest house.

“You been sleeping okay?” you asked, hand gently gesturing to the fold-out couch behind him as you lent against the doorframe. You felt slight comfort at the sight of tangled bedsheets, though the relief was quickly expunged as you lost count of the wires and equipment covering the mattress.

“Y-Yeah, i’ve been... It’s fine,” he sighed, his large hand wrapping around his jaw to scratch the sides of his beard, “I’m just a little busy right now honey, I-I gotta get back to it.”

His hands slapped his thighs matter-of-factly before he stood up, shuffling towards the back of the room. He began to fiddle with equipment, pointlessly messing around with a tangle of cords he’d picked up from the kitchen bench.

Your eyes instinctively closed shut as you felt a wave of dizziness hit you. His avoidant nature and impatience all but confirmed it; he was not doing well.

You felt incredibly and painfully torn. You knew him better than he knew himself sometimes, but if there was one thing you were both unsure of, it was how to handle situations like these. Pressing any harder would only prove to make him snap, though leaving him to his own devices would only further encourage his bad habits.

You could ruminate on this dilemma for the rest of your life to no avail, but an instinct deep within you pushed you to query just a little more, to try and reach out as gently as you could.

“Have you thought about, um…” you faltered, scrambling to find the right words, “taking a break soon, honey? Even just a little one? I know how important this is to you, but I know in the past you’ve burnt yourself out, and maybe even if you just came inside for a shower, just to reset and maybe just-”

“I said I’m fine.” he interjected harshly. You were caught off guard, now feeling sheepish and bewildered, truly feeling like an intruder. You kicked yourself inwardly for pushing too far, you knew this would happen. You opened your mouth to try and apologise, to take back the supposed infringement, but his voice came through when your own refused.

“I’m about to start filming. Could you…” he asked, hoping you’d get the message and leave without having to ask you explicitly. You were too befuddled to push any further, already regretting the attempts you’d made.

“Of course, sorry honey.” you replied, shaking your head. Your lips pressed together in a tight, forced smile until you left and shut the door behind you. The slam was enough to bring tears to your eyes.

You shook your head to try and clear it, trying with all your might to move on from the incident and figure out a plan moving forward.

He said he was fine.

You knew he wasn’t.

There were a few times you thought it was all going to be okay. Shortly after the guest house dispute, you were surprised by the sound of the back door being opened. He greeted you with a tired smile and you quickly snaked your arms around him, holding on to him for dear life, telling yourself you’d never let go again.

He sat with you in the kitchen, peacefully watching you cook. You could tell he missed your company just by the soft smile on his face, the first one you had seen in a long time, and you beamed at the very sight of him sitting contently with Bruce on his lap. There wasn’t much conversation over dinner, though compared to earlier, the awkwardness was nonexistent. Until dessert.

You wanted to pull out all the stops, utilising every second of this rare quality time to enjoy his company and to show him how much difference a few hours of luxury and relaxation can make.

You left him lounging on the couch to make his favourite dessert - sticky toffee pudding with vanilla ice cream. You were so relieved you could scream at just the simple thought of him zoning out in front of the television with the dogs, truly letting himself just be, for the first time in a long time.

When the pudding was ready however, your cheesy grin quickly dropped as you realised you were presenting dessert to an empty room. The dogs were quick to start barking, running back and forth between yourself and the back door, and you nearly dropped the plates at the sound of that heinous shed door closing once more. You couldn’t believe it. Just when you thought things were starting to look up, he waltzes straight back towards the problem itself.

Not thinking for a second, you set the plates down and marched over to the guest house. You didn’t bother to knock this time, instead assertively opening the door to see him already settled with a keyboard on his lap. His head flew up at the sound of your entrance, mouth flying open with silent questions. You stopped for a moment - both of you did, a little surprised at your bold entry. Coming to your senses, your gait quickly softened, hands clasped loosely in front of you so as not to alarm him.

“I-I made dessert. Your favourite.” you explained meekly, watching him from the doorway once more. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply, filling you with a sense of dread. You knew what would happen if you pushed it, but here you were. You were so desperate at this point, missing the man you fell in love with and frightened of the shell he’d become. Even more so than that, you were frightened for him.

Bo had always had trouble accepting help, and the idea of him asking for it was inconceivable. He’d opened up to you over time about a lot of things, but every time it got a little more serious he’d close up like a clam, refusing entry into his world until the situation simply dissipated.

“I can’t, I’m busy.” he deadpanned, fiddling around with the microphone stand. You could feel the wave of disappointment wash over you once more. For a few hours, you really thought things had taken a turn for the better, for a few hours your hopes had been lifted, all for it to just come crumbling back down tenfold. The adrenaline quickly hijacked your brain, talking on your subconscious’ behalf before you had a moment to strategize.

“You’re always busy.” you snapped. Your voice wasn’t that loud, but you knew he could hear it shake, months of anxiety and concern finally bubbling over. Your fear only grew when you saw a glint of rage flicker behind his eyes.

“It’s my job.” he rebutted with a swift, disapproving shake of his head.

“But you always push yourself too far, Bo. I know you’re just so passionate about what you do, but you always end up so burnt out and I-”

“Stop saying that!” he bellowed, finally placing the keyboard aside and standing up to face you. His height has never intimidated you, but the way in which he towered over you made you feel so small and powerless.

“You keep saying that when I'm not, it’s like you want me to be, like you want me to stop working.” he explained sternly. You felt your words get trapped in your throat, hyper-aware and petrified of digging this hole any deeper.

“I don’t want you to be burnt out, Robert,” you explained, using his full name in hopes it would better emphasize your sincerity, “I just care about you. I’ve seen this happen to you before, when you just go and go and go until you can’t anymore, you stop eating, you stop sleeping and you never talk to anyone about it, you just bottle it all up and let it eat you alive. And I mean, I miss you. God, I miss you so much, but more importantly than that right now, I’m worried about you.” you blurted.

You could feel your body tremble, your veins flooding simultaneously with relief and pure fear after finally airing the grievances you’ve fostered for months.

You watched as he processed your words. You might have just been projecting, but for a moment, you swore you saw his face soften, a part of him wanting so desperately to give in, to surrender and let you help. Lamentably, he huffed out a tired, contemptuous laugh.

After all you said, he simply turned his back to you, picked up his keyboard and continued on like you hadn’t said a peep. For a moment, you stood there, truly gobsmacked, but the piercing screeches of his synthesizer were enough to usher you out the door and back to the house, not stopping until you were in bed and crying into your pillow.

Your mind wouldn’t let up, over-processing every word he spoke, every breath he took, looking for illusory warning signs that this was it. All the years you’d spent together, all the hard work and love and dedication you’d poured into the relationship, all of the sacrifices, all of the rewards, it was all now null and void because you’d pushed him too far.

At some point, your mind had crossed over into the world of paranoia, manipulating every once-pleasant memory of the evening to fit your new narrative, that this was the end.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but the slightly-damp pillow was enough to indicate that it happened pretty fast. Your brain soon caught up with your body, picking up the very noise that woke you up - the shower.

You rose from your bed with a furrowed brow and made your way down the stairs as quietly as you could, as if your presence would scare him off like a fly. You made it face to face with the door of the guest bathroom, the shower was undoubtedly on, and from the excited state of the dogs, Bo was undoubtedly in there. You gently rested your hand against the door, unsure of what to do.

Eventually, you backed up and took refuge on the couch, allowing him space to wash away the day and hopefully clear his mind.

Ten minutes passed, you sat patiently, silently on the couch as you waited for the shower to stop.

Another ten minutes later and you hadn’t moved from your spot, save a few adjustments for Bruce who had curled up under your arm.

It had been half an hour since you sat and your nerves were multiplying by the second. You were using every fibre of your being to hold yourself back from going in there, no longer trusting that gut instinct that, once again, reared it’s ugly head. You could hear it’s faint screams echoing in the back of your head;

‘Push’.

The impulse grew more enticing with every passing second until it had been forty five minutes since you awoke and you could no longer wait.

Pacing up to the door, the hesitation that stopped you from going in last time revealed itself once more. The hesitation was quickly silenced, however, by the sound of muffled sobs.

Your heart was in your throat, your stomach twisting and churning itself into impossible knots in response to the muted lamentations. Your body turned to jelly as you dubiously opened the door, wincing at the creak of it’s hinges. You could feel your heart drop to the floor and shatter at the sight before you.

Bo was curled up in the corner of the bathtub, arms around his knees as his hair completely concealed his face. He was seemingly unbothered by the harsh, hot stream of water hammering against his head, and you could only just make out the shaking of his shoulders through the steam.

Without a moment of hesitation, you stepped out of your shoes, well beyond caring about the clothes you were wearing, and stepped into the bathtub fully clothed to sit behind him. Your legs splayed out on either side of him, and your arms quickly wrapped around to sit atop his own.

You could truly feel him crying now as he leant into your touch, too exhausted to fight any more. You could feel his laboured breathing, you could hear his wordless whispers as he tried and failed to speak. So you spoke for him.

“I’ve got you, Bo.” you said quietly, beginning to rock him back and forth and softly kissing his head. Finally, he managed to squeak out a few words,

“I’m so fucking tired.”

It was punctuated with a sob, and you had to muster every ounce of strength you had not to cry yourself. You’d never seen him like this before. You’d seen him stressed, you’d seen him deflated, you’d seen him tired, overworked and depressed. But never quite this broken.

“I’m so fucking tired. I’m so tired, please” he continued, repeating his mantra over and over again,

‘I’m tired, I’m tired, I’m tired’

You couldn’t imagine how much he must have to say, and neither of you knew quite where to start. But after all these years, he’d finally hit the breaking point.

You continued to slowly rock him back and forth, gently kissing his hair as the both of you sat under the scalding hot stream of the shower.

He tensed up for a moment in your grip, his demons seemingly coming back to remind him he isn’t worthy of help. A vague suggestion of ‘You shouldn’t have to do this’ was muttered under his breath, but this time when you pushed back, he let you. Your hold on him endured, soothingly rubbing small circles on his arm with your thumb until he settled once more.

“I’ve got you.” you reassured him once more, hoping to god that this time you got through. And as you felt his shoulders start to shake once more, you think you just might have.

“Why am I doing this?” Bo asked, voice raised to compete against the strong pelt of the shower. You stayed silent and let him continue.

“What’s the fucking point? I can’t even tell what I'm doing anymore. It’s all I can think about, all I can do is just work on it but I hate everything I come up with, it just makes me so fucking miserable. And sometimes I just wanna stop, for the night, and get into bed with you, and the girls, and just forget about everything for a few hours but I can’t switch my fucking brain off and I’m just stuck in this fucking endless feedback loop in my head and I’m just so tired” he cried, gasping in a loud breath.

“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, pulling him a little closer to you, “you don’t have to be okay. I’ve got you.”

Bo didn’t know how to say it, he didn’t know where he’d begin, but he was so thankful that you persevered, that you were still there with him, that you were right there holding him through this.

#bo burnham x reader #bo burnham oneshot #bo burnham imagine #bo burnham x gender neutral reader #z’s writing

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fakeikemen · 4 years

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The "Cave of Two Lovers" foreshadows the Zutara interactions in "Crossroads of Destiny"

[And maybe after that too; (yeah this part will be purely based on speculation)]

(See also: A meta that everybody has already written but I haven't because I was living under a rock and watched Avatar very recently)

Like seriously, it is so obvious? I see people try to interpret "The Legend Of Oma and Shu" in so many other ways; like yeah, you're free to interpret it however you want but— most people try to make sense of it while thinking that the tale is just a random occurrence? But it's not.

And here's why:

(I'm so sorry, I tried to add the "keep reading" link here because this gets kinda long but it just won't work) (Also click on the pictures if you want better resolution).

The tale of Oma and Shu is about two lovers who belonged to villages that were at war against each other. To continue meeting each other, they learnt earthbending to create caves in the mountain that divides the two villages. But one day Shu didn't come to the caves. He'd died in the war. So Oma unleashed a terrifying display of her power. And then when people were willing to listen to her, she called off the war and strived for peace between both the villages. As a result the city of Omashu was created— as a monument in remembrance of their love.

So in comparison:

1. Two people belonging to the opposite sides of the war

(Other than the 100 year old war that has been going on, Zuko and Katara are involved in a very fundamental conflict: Capture the Avatar Vs. Protect the Avatar.)

2. With the same colour scheme:

3. Share intimate moments in a cave lit by green crystals:

A popular argument for this comparison is that; Oma and Shu had a positive impressions of each other when they first met. Unlike Zuko and Katara where Katara's first impression of Zuko was pretty negative because he invaded her village.

Zuko and Katara's first proper conversation happens in "Crossroads of Destiny" i.e.; the scene I'm talking about here. After this interaction that they have, I think it's safe to say that they did have positive impressions of each other. (Until Zuko made the wrong choice.)

Other than that, about the colour scheme being a coincidence: Here and here are posts by @marsreds about how the colours are definitely not a coincidence.

But seriously guys? Oma and Shu were the FIRST EARTHBENDERS and yet, instead of greens and yellows they were designed with RED and BLUE?!? (I'll take about Oma's green dress below.)

And on that note, why were Zuko and Katara the only ones who were thrown into the catacombs when everybody else was being held at the dungeons? The dungeons wouldn't have been easy to escape, neither for Zuko nor for Katara.

It's because Zuko and Katara were meant to share an intimate moment in a cave that was supposed to jog our visual memory to remind us of the caves built by Oma and Shu.

(Seriously though, I wasn't really paying attention during CoTL and thought that the Omashu legend was just put in to consume screen time, so I missed the red/blue thing. But then I watched CoD and saw the catacombs and I was like: "Isn't this like that cave made by the lovers?" And then I proceeded to have an oh shit moment because, I knew that Zutara was not canon so I never even considered the possibility of the narrative hinting at anything between them but then this happened. I mean, it's pretty darn obvious).

The colour of the crystals being the same in both caves is no coincidence either— if they just wanted two random caves with crystals, then they could've used a different colour because crystals of different colours exist:

Moving on,

The Visual Cues:

According to the colour coding Zuko = Oma (red) and Katara = Shu (blue).

So,

EXHIBIT A:

I feel like this one speaks for itself.

(I personally think that in this parallel Oma is in red because Katara at this point still sees Zuko as the face of the Fire Nation.)

EXHIBIT B:

This sequence of frames show Oma (dressed in green, like Zuko was in the catacombs) and Shu (dressed in his usual blue), standing on neutral territory and reaching out to each other and then being torn apart by the war.

Pretty much like:

The first time they are in each other's presence without the cause of their conflict (i.e. the Avatar), Zuko and Katara reach out to each other empathetically and attain bone deep understanding of each other within a matter of minutes. This whole encounter is in Ba Sing Se, which counts for the neutral territory because it hadn't been completely taken over by Fire Nation at that point.

And honestly? The raw vulnerability and intimacy of this scene and the high emotional energy of their powerful dynamic is just— wow. (I put off my binging spree for a whole day because I didn't have the heart to see Zutara not become canon after all of this.)

And soon after, Zuko and Katara face each other in battle, their tentative friendship torn apart, as they fight from their respective sides of the war.

EXHIBIT C:

Whenever Oma and Shu appear in the same frame during the visualization of the legend, Oma is always on the left half of the frame and Shu is on the right.

Similarly, throughout all their interactions in the Catacombs, whenever the frame exclusively includes Zuko and Katara, Zuko (like Oma) is on the left half of the frame and Katara (like Shu) is on the right.

The parallels (or foils rather):

In CoTL, we see Song who is a healer (cures Iroh of his poisoning). She mentions that she hasn't seen her father since a Fire Nation raid took place in her village. Zuko empathises with her and says that he too hasn't seen his father in a long while. But then he refuses to say anything else about it.

Later Song tries to reach out to Zuko and tries to touch his scar— which Zuko prevents her from. She shows Zuko her own scars to show that she understood him.

And yet, Zuko doesn't open up to her.

After a while of life-changing and eye-opening experiences, in CoD, when Katara has her meltdown and cries while saying that her mother was snatched away from her by the Fire Nation; Zuko sees an opening to offer an olive branch and he takes it, he empathises with her and tells her that how his mother was snatched away by the Fire Nation as well.

Then Zuko opens up to Katara in a show of complete vulnerability. He openly talks about his scar and what he feels about it. In response, Katara offers to heal his scar and then Zuko lets her touch his scar.

It was nothing but a deliberate choice to make Song slightly parallel Katara (a healer, lost a parent because of the war) and then making Zuko not open up to her and not let her touch the scar, only for Katara to be the one he opened up to and allowed to touch the scar.

After being trapped with Aang in the cave in CoTL and sharing an intimate moment with him, as soon as they find their way out, Katara runs straight ahead without looking back.

But after her time with Zuko, trapped in the Catacombs in CoD, while leaving she turns back to look at Zuko.

Judging by the amount of time the animation puts into showing us Aang's disappointment at Katara running off and into making it clear that Katara did look back at Zuko and that Zuko looked right back at her, to me, it feels like the choice to show this was pretty deliberate.

(Turning back to look at a person while leaving is a romantic trope that has been overused to death? Or is it just bollywood?)

Also I wouldn't have paid this much attention to this small detail if not for the fact that just a hint of the Omashu legend theme is played here?

No, I swear I'm not making it up.

The Omashu legend theme is used in CoD:

The Omashu legend theme is largely dominated by the music of a stringed instrument (forgive me, I don't know what it's called) alongwith a steady melody playing in the background.

In CoD, when Katara and Zuko start conversing for real, (i.e.; when Katara says: "I'm sorry I yelled at you.") what sounds like a variation of the background melody in the Omashu legend theme, starts its subtle ascent as the background score, but sans the music of the stringed instrument.

It is when Katara says: "Maybe you could be free of it." [About Zuko's scar], when then first hint of the stringed instrument is heard. It is only a single note of the strings but it's there. And this "single note" sound keeps on repeating at regular intervals with the melody building up until Aang and Iroh burst into the catacombs.

But then, when Katara is leaving with Aang and she turns back to look at Zuko, this time the music that plays for a few seconds at best, is dominated by the stringed instrument again and this time it's unmistakable.

Also I don't think this music is used anywhere else in the course of the whole show? So it can't really be a coincidence? But I don't really know. I'm saying this on the basis of as far as my memory can reach.

And this is as far as canon stands testimony to what I am trying to say here.

But what about the second half of the story yk, the dying thing, you say?

Well this is where the speculations come in.

Speculation Time:

As a thumb rule, a romance foreshadowed by a tragic tale is meant to have a happy ending.

So this time when Katara's (Shu) life is in danger (Azula's lightning bolt), Zuko (Oma) steps in at the nick of time to save her life (by jumping infront of Katara to intercept the lightning).

(Since I have crossed the limit of images in a post, here is a post by @araeph which illustrates this point.)

Yes, I am completely aware that Zuko taking the lightning bolt for Katara is not his declaration of love for her. What I mean to say is that the whole scene was so very painfully obviously romantically framed (the immediate change in music when Zuko realises where the lightning bolt was headed, both of their expressions, Zuko's agonized "Nooooo", the slow-mo throughout the shot).

I am also aware that Zuko would've taken the lightning bolt for anyone. But it is the narrative that demands that Zuko take the lightning bolt for Katara and Katara only. Because this has atleast 10 different payoffs (a direct callback to the Book 2 finale where Azula had shot Aang with the lightning; the grief of which was for Katara to bear but this time Zuko himself stands between the lightning and Katara instead of being the silent spectator, the culmination of both Zuko and Katara's personal character arcs, Zuko's scar would parallel Aang's: Aang got it because he chose Katara over the world and Zuko got it because he was willing to give up the world to save Katara, etc, etc).

Tl;dr: The lightning scene wouldn't hold all that much weight if it wasn't Zuko taking the hit for Katara because the narrative literally demands it.

This is where we start wading into really murky waters.

From mucking around on Tumblr due to Zutara feels™, I came across this post where some of the ideas for Book 4 were written:

• The Southern Water Tribe experienced the longest series of attacks from the Fire Nation. Zuko and Katara become political partners and work together to help end the animosity and repair relations between their two nations.

• Just like how Zuko learned to appreciate the Earth Kingdom, he would learn to appreciate the Water Tribes. Katara also learns to respect the complexity of Fire Nation culture. There is no such thing as an “evil” nation.

And that basically means that Zuko and Katara would've been working together to de-escalate the hostility between their respective nations and improve the relations between the two nations, while learning about each other's cultures simultaneously as the world would be in the process of being rebuilt after the war and they would be major role-players in shaping the new world.

Which is quite similar to how Oma strived for peace between the two villages and then as a result of the improved relations between the villages, the city of Omashu was built as a monument to the love story of Oma and Shu; which might just be symbolic of building a new world where both the villages could live in peace due to the initiative taken by Oma on behalf of herself and Shu.

The story would've come a full circle; that's all I'm saying.

If you've stuck around for this long, thank you for taking the time to read this long ass post with points that you may already have read ♥️

#i just have a lot of feelings about zutara #i mean this was being built up so perfectly but then bryke ruined it by not making canon #oh and they said that zutara was never even supposed to be a thing #i mean everything was just there in the context #atla #zutara meta #atla meta #meta analysis #oma and shu #oma and shu parallels #cave of two lovers #crossroads of destiny #into the inferno #avatar #anti bryke #zutara #ira's posts

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musedblues · 4 years

Text

Born To Love You [Part: 3]

summary: When Gwilym ropes you into a lie, the truth becomes painfully obvious. When Joe makes things harder, there's no telling if he even has a clue.

a/n: Forgive me for taking a while! Life has been properly wild. And I was taking my time with this story anyway, I really want each chapter to be special... So I hope you lot dig this one! All the feedback and love continues to overflow my little old heart! 💖

w/c: 6k

Part 4

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

If you got to have it your way, you'd avoid going on set and gladly greet Gwilym every night and odd day off. But if Gwilym wouldn't take no for an answer, you did your best to hide out in his trailer, avoid suspicion and keep your fake husband happy all the same. But because Gwilym had made such fast friends of his co-stars, some invitations were unavoidable. When Ben called you both to join him and the others for lunch in some posh garden lodge, you slapped on a big grin and agreed.

The lodge was back behind a mess of trees, it's sign faded by the sun that shone down on the place like it was on display by the heavens. You followed behind Gwil on a gravel path. And before you could reach the steps that lead to the eatery, a voice called out from the opposite fork in the trail.

"Hey!" Ben's recognizable timbre echoed from behind a row of trees, as you whipped your head to see him waving from the bench of a weathered picnic table.

The rest of the cast had taken over a small jungle gym. Rami claimed the only swing, its rickety bubblegum poles threatening to uproot. Lucy and Joe were squealing on opposite ends of a seesaw. And when Joe noticed you and Gwilym had joined the picnic table across the way, he practically launched Lucy off of her end of the equipment in his hurry to come and greet you.

And there it was again; that look. The one Joe gave you when you met. The one that made your heart stir just thinking about it. If his gaze painted your daydrems, meeting his eyes in real time was spellbinding. This was why you stayed away. Because you couldn’t help but stare.

Olive cackled in your arms as Lucy cursed Joe's name from the place she'd fallen in the mulch. All at once everyone passed around warm greetings, then hurried back to the play place, arguing over turns to help Olive down the slide like antsy siblings on the first day of recess.

"Alright, I invited you all here for the food! We can have fun later. I'm starving." Ben coxed, waving for everyone to follow him indoors at last. You had just beaten Rami at a rain worn hopscotch game painted on the path that led inside. He kept walking to follow Ben, and when you turned back, you spotted Joe lifting Olive up and pointing to a pair of sparrows settled on a branch near the play place.

The only thing that stopped you from melting into a puddle was catching Gwilym's eye. There was a smile behind his expression and a look in his gaze, a little like a warning, but more like a dare.

"Joe, I would ask if you want children one day but the answer seems pretty obvious." Lucy laughed on her saunter toward your side.

"You should really be asking Rami these kinds of questions, Lucy," Joe said, causing Gwilym to laugh hard. Lucy linked her arm with yours, leading you away from the scene and toward a steadier heartbeat, you hoped.

The lodge was made up of a couple of dozen miss-matched tables and chairs, occupied by a few other chilly looking patrons sipping warm drinks. There was even a small gift shop in the corner, where most of your crew scattered toward.

You followed Gwil to a cozy little table and left Olive in his lap while you took his order to the counter across the room. A sweet young girl with warm curls and the perfect smile was happy to hand you a couple of pastries and informed that someone would bring out the hot drinks you ordered. You thanked her and eased to rest across from Gwilym and your girl.

You mindlessly noshed on sweet blueberry bread when your drinks came but you failed to ignore when Joe flirted with the girl behind the pastry counter. Gwilym wasn't helping. He offered no distractions, or conversation as you listened in on Joe's sickening exchange with the girl who had just been as nice to you.

"A large vanilla frappe and a complimentary cinnamon muffin because you're so sweet." The freckle-faced girl giggled, repeating back his order with a special modification of her own.

Joe was genuinely thankful at the gesture, a treat from the universe. He lingered in front of the counter a little longer, but you had to block out the continued chat. Something like this seemed to happen every time you'd wound up near Joe.

You noticed when he got free muffins, favorite songs on the car radio, pennies on the sidewalk. He cradled these gifts and called them his own, because they were. And it was a precious sight to behold. You couldn't shake the wish splintered within you; that you might be one of those things he held onto so dearly.

"Hey!" Gwilym actually threw a raisin at you. It bounced from your brow onto the floor as you turned back in shock.

"Stop staring you look like a sad puppy," Gwilym warned through his teeth, holding Olive in his lap as she reached for the cup of tea he lifted to his lips.

You let out a sorry whine as a memory of your arrival at the top of this hill flashed across your mind. Joe's shimmering eyes locking onto yours while something electric buzzed through his glare. You slumped your head onto the marble tabletop and continued to pathetically groan like Tina from Bob's Burgers.

"Am I... interrupting something?" Joe's stupidly recognizable voice cut through your self-pity. You just lifted your head with a neutral smile.

He pulled up a seat from a mismatched table, setting his drink down. You reached for your own and leaned back, pretending to be preoccupied with your coffee. Joe cast a curious look to Gwilym who was sharing apple slices with his daughter.

"Must be nap time." Gwilym stretched a silly smile across his face looking to Joe.

"Ha ha." You mocked.

"You guys gotta try this muffin," Joe demanded.

You let out a hopeless chuckle while Gwilym shook his head at you with a sorry grin. It was such an unfunny, funny little predicament you found yourself in. Maybe laughing about it was good. Maybe you were getting through this...

"There's a bar upstairs!" Lucy chirped, skipping over to settle between Gwilym and Joe, bringing along a chair, it legs scraping on the hardwood. The other boys followed...

"And there's a band playing in an hour." The girl was making plans, casting big eyes to the boys who knew the question behind her statement. Lucy explained that Rami had already planned to sleep the rest of his weekend off and that she was desperate to have a little fun. Joe had plans with Ben, and Gwilym was exhausted, too.

"I'll pay for our drinks and our ride back." Lucy turned her big sad eyes your way.

"You should stay! We can manage, just us two, done it before haven't we?" Gwilym spoke up, bouncing Olive in his lap. It was a sweet offer but the way he alluded to being on his own with Olive made your heart clench. It was almost like he wanted someone to find out you weren’t so often around each other. You noticed a look on Ben's face, pushed in brows at the sound of Gwilym's tone.

"Are you sure?" You asked, almost reminding him that you were supposed to be acting like you'd never spent a day without each other since your made up honeymoon.

"Yeah, of course," Gwyilm assured, softer now. And whatever worry had sprouted in you, was settled with the nod of Gwilym's head. You took note then of how he always knew just how to put you at ease, even if he hadn't realized he was the one who caused your apprehension.

///

Upstairs was made up of fairy lights, a well stocked mini bar, a small stage where an old married couple sat strumming guitars, and very few audience members. And while you and Lucy did your best to clap after every song, you just wound up getting lost in conversation.

Lucy was on her third cocktail. You stuck to water after your second. And between drinks, you laughed over nothing in the way that made your heart ache with melancholy for the day moments like this were only memories.

When there was more ice in her drink than alcohol, Lucy started in on some monologue about life, and love, and Rami. She rambled about how she felt about him, and how she was sure he must have felt about her.

You had no doubt that they were close to perfect for each other. But Lucy headed into chattering about their first fight, and how petrified of losing him she was. How she wanted to shower Rami with love, but was afraid she wasn't good enough for the job.

"Did you feel that way with Gwil at first? How are things now, after so long together?" Lucy seemed to plead for her own clarity.

You let out a humorless chuckle. "Things with us have always been... complicated." You thought, choosing your words carefully even in your happily buzzed state. Lucy kept her gaze zeroed in on you, waiting to hear more.

"Even now. We've never been better... or worse. All at once." You gave a shrug, and Lucy raised her brow in obvious surprise.

You and Gwil always talked about things before diving into them together. That changed when he missed the opportunity to take back his usually forgivable lie. But the talking stopped. Life with Gwyilm became uncomfortably familiar. You'd never shared so many wordless looks.

"Well, better is good, yeah?" Lucy gently suggested, more like she was hoping for herself.

"Yeah, I guess so." You decided, because that's all you could do. That seemed good enough for Lucy, as she sat up with a new speech in mind.

"I want the rest of this year, this time we all have together, to be nothing but fun." Lucy pointed, stringing her words a little closer together than anyone with a clearer head might have. The pretty girl rambled about how her sister was opening a gallery the first of the new year, and how she was inviting you and Gwil and neither of you could back out. Saying something about how if you all started the new year out together, then you'd be surreptitiously inclined to be the best of friends for the rest of all time.

"But I'm getting ahead of myself." Lucy giggled, grabbing onto your arm, shooting you a look that warned she was scheming. You grinned back, turning to face her all the way, setting your glass of water aside.

"Joe's birthday is soon and I'm planning something big. Something we can all do together, for him." Lucy declared. You felt every muscle in your face automatically reacting to pull your smile into a frown. But with every bit of sober strength you still had, you put on your best poker face and reached out for your drink you'd only just abandoned.

"What did you have in mind?" You asked, hoping you sounded more curious than cautious. Lucy burst into a laugh as you sipped your drink to keep from panicking out loud.

"I don't have a single clue yet." Lucy laughed with a sigh. "But it's going to be great."

///

As you sneaked back into your Airbnb you felt grateful for the night of fun with Lucy. It was the first time you'd been away from Gwil and Olive since this whole big thing started, and as the night went on you'd found yourself missing their usual constant presence. You'd get that in the morning, with a catch. Joe.

Gwilym had planned a big day out, buying tickets to the aquarium and talking about how excited he was to roam around for a day, no schedules or work to worry over. He'd invited Joe knowing the guy had no plans all weekend, no family nearby, nothing better to do.

When the morning came, and Gwil gushed over breakfast about what he was looking forward to the most, you let that be enough. You let Olive’s claps of the agreement be your fuel for gearing up to go out.

And when Joe knocked on your door wearing a withheld grin and a warm jumper, you stepped back to let him in, turning your eyes toward the carpet so he couldn't see you blush. Maybe he noticed though, because when you looked back up, Joe was still waiting to meet your gaze.

Gwilym was quick to greet his friend, ushering everyone out of the door Joe had only just entered. Today was going to be a good one, you told yourself so.

After parking the car, you watched Gwil wrestle to unfold a new stroller. Joe chuckled when his friend denied help, insisting he had to figure it out on his own. Eventually, he did, buckling Olive in triumphantly. The effort must have exhausted your fake husband because he made a b-line for a coffee shop around the corner while you and Joe took shots at poking fun at Gwil.

You stood guard next to Olive in her brand new ride while Gwilym raced to patiently wait in the long coffee shop line. Joe stood near you, debating on joining Gwil, but decided against ordering anything.

As you distracted yourself by checking your cell, you heard Gwilym's warm chuckle from across the room. The sound was familiar enough for you to gaze up curiously, finding the guy with his arms crossed, leaning closer to listen to some woman in line speak just to him.

Gwilym was kind to everyone, always keen to listen. Everyone loved Gwilym. And whether you were near or not, plenty of people had taken their shot at flirting with the handsome man. You were hardly phased in those cases and were usually quick to poke fun at his attempts to flirt back. But when the girl in front of Gwilym kept spinning in line to gaze up and bite her lip as he spoke, you rolled your eyes. When he reached out to nudge her to keep the line moving, a faint bout of resentment threatened to wash over you.

You quickly decided that it was because Gwilym had done such a marvelous job at testing your nerves this week, and the feelings you'd been trying to push away were looking for an excuse to creep back up. So you started to bring your phone closer to view, but then your eyes swept over Joe.

His gaze was unsettled, watching Gwilym shamelessly flirt back with the girl, even after she ordered her coffee and lingered too close while he ordered his.

"Uh..." Joe uttered, starting to look back at you with a troubled frown.

"It's okay." You quickly shut down whatever Joe might have wanted to say next. You hadn't expected him to accept this with a shrug, but you needed Joe to stop looking at you like he was. You realized that anything you might have said next would probably worsen things , so you just gave Joe a small shake of your head, silently asking him not to worry about it.

That's when Gwilym approached, seemingly clueless of the thin ice he'd just skated away from. You shot him a look on your way back outside and managed to shift into a comfortable chatter as you led the way toward the aquarium. So far the morning was just as awkward as you feared it might have been, and with that thought, you decided you could manage. You'd learned how to attach yourself to Gwil, and how to save your swooning for Joe when you were alone at the end of the day.

As you approached the aquarium, Gwilym's phone rang. He groaned when his agent's name flashed across the screen, excusing himself a few feet away to answer.

You settled onto a bench as Olive pointed toward your bag, babbling in a way you understood. You reached in and revealed a small stuffed elephant much to your daughter's delight. When you handed the thing to her, she held it right back up,

"Joe!" The kid caught your guest's attention as he sat next to you, taking the toy from Olive with overblown thanks.

"You sure you wanna spend your day entertaining her?" You asked Joe through a warning laugh. Now that she had his attention, she'd likely long to keep it that way.

"Gladly." Joe looked at you as he answered. Luckily, Olive called out his name again so you both had a reason to look away.

That's when you noticed Gwil approaching while his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"They want me and Ben to come in right bloody now." He huffed, gazing up to the entrance of the place he'd made big plans to spend the day exploring.

"For how long?" You wondered.

Gwilym didn't know, lulling his head back clearly at a loss. He had to go, but what about you? You couldn't just not take Olive in with the way you'd been promising her this adventure all week.

"I'll email you guys the tickets to get in... I'll try and meet back up soon. Unless you want a ride back with me, Joe..." Gwilym offered, knowing there was no reason the guy had to spend his afternoon with his best friend's fake wife.

"I'll stay..." Joe decided, but hesitantly. "If that's alright?" He looked at you, seeming to realize, or at least recognize for the first time, that this was strange.

You nodded to the man with fossils for eyes, and made a mental note to scold Gwilym later. After a rushed goodbye, Gwilym sulked off. You felt bad that he was suddenly called away, knowing how excited he had been for this day. But then there was Joe. He seemed happy. And you weren't about to take this sudden change of plans for granted, no matter how your guts twisted up on your walk inside, alone together.

///

Olive was purely enchanted by the sea life. Giant radiant fish glided above your heads in expansive tanks. It was like stepping into another dim, quiet world.

"Bird!" Olive pointed up to a slow-moving sting ray. You figured she'd like the aquarium based on her fascination with things with wings, but this wasn't exactly the same.

"No, fish." You corrected, pointing up.

"No, scary." Joe joked, pointing to a larger, more intimidating looking sea creature. Your eyes searched the plaque on the wall that told what types of fish swam through the tank you stood near.

"Oh my God, look." You laughed, stepping closer to the wall. "It's called a Guitarfish." You pointed to the display and looked back into the tank at the skinny, oddly shaped stingray that you now recognized as half-shark. Joe shared in your laughter and stepped closer to take a photo of the plaque.

"Thanks for inviting me to this death trap." Joe laughed, as you three eased into the shark exhibit. It was a bit jarring, surrounded by walls of water where ancient monsters floated just feet away from you.

"They're just dinosaurs, ya know?" You mused, setting Olive on her feet and watching her shuffle closer to the glass where a sand tiger shark floated right by her face. You noticed another plaque and spun toward Joe with a smile, pointing to the fish behind his back.

"That one's name is Bungle. See? Loveable and harmless."

"It says here you can swim with them," Joe smirked, stepping closer to read what you just had.

"Okay, well maybe that's taking it a little too far." You laughed.

"Why? They're harmless dinosaurs, right?" Joe chuckled. You watched Olive watching the sharks glide by as Joe spun off into a story about Jurassic Park. Families cruised through pointing and chatting as you stood against the wall, listening to the guy you'd been avoiding until now.

When Olive ran back toward you pair and reached her arms up to Joe, he scooped her up without missing a beat and kept on telling his story. You laughed and listened and let yourself become completely entranced by the daydream you were living.

This was it, you decided. As good as it gets. When today was over, you'd let yourself have it, and then you'd move on. No more yearning. No more hopeless gazes right in Joe's direction. This was it.

The turtles were a big hit, and you were personally taken with the octopus exhibit. But the room full of penguins obviously took the cake.

"These are birds!" You excitedly chirped, probably a little more excited than Olive about the scenario. She clapped her hands together, all the same, dashing toward the glass. You sat on the floor next to her and watched a group of penguins waddle toward where you sat. Olive waved and pointed and squealed accordingly. Even though you had to remind her to use her inside voice, you felt just as overjoyed that this experience was a win.

"We can leave if you'd like." You assured Joe when he appeared next to you after another family cleared the area.

"Absolutely not!" Joe demanded, sitting on the other side of Olive who was glued to the glass of the exhibit. "This is obviously our reward for making it out of the shark tank alive."

You sat there forever, watching Olive travel back and forth when the penguins would jump in the water. Then came the gift shop. Olive picked out a plush penguin, and Joe corralled you both to the storybook section where he put on a dramatic reading of a magazine about jellyfish.

You left the aquarium and stepped out to the golden hour. The afternoon was still new, but your eyes felt heavy after all the fun had been left inside the aquarium.

"I think I'd like to find that coffee shop again." You spoke up, rubbing your eyes as they adjusted to the new light.

Joe insisted on buying your drink since you'd treated him to today's grand adventure. You eventually obliged upon arrival, settling into a cozy booth by a window. Olive had curled up in the curve of the booth next to you, with your jacket bunched under her head, fast asleep.

You praised God that naptime had found its way into the afternoon schedule and took some time to send James and Andy photos of Olive pointing at giant sharks. That's when Joe reappeared with two plastic cups of coffee. You greeted him with a grateful thanks.

"These photos turned out so well. I was just sending them to my roommates." You explained, clicking your phone off altogether.

"You have roommates?" Joe wondered, sipping his own latte and leaning across the table with his head propped in his hand. Oh, shit. You and Joe had grown increasingly comfortable with each other during your aquatic escapade, but you surely weren't dumb enough to slip up so carelessly.

"Used to." You falsely corrected. "Lived together so long, sometimes I forget." You let out a breathy laugh, wrapping your fingers around your warm styrofoam mug and thanking Joe again for being so kind.

His hair was a little windblown, and his eyes seemed tired. The warm coffee shop was certainly a change of pace from walking the chilly London streets. But the conversation was just as easy as it had been always. Joe texted you the photo of the guitarfish plaque and you spoke about things that you each marveled over as children. When you started cracking up over some silly joke, Olive sat up and was ready to party all over again. You started to brush back her matted curls, but she clamored away from you and toward Joe, around the curve of the booth.

"You don't have to put up with her, ya know?" You reminded as Olive climbed into Joe's lap before you could stop her. But Joe welcomed the baby's embrace, sipping his coffee all the same.

"I really don't mind. We're like, best friends now. Right?" Joe looked down at Olive, who responded by wrapping her tiny arms around Joe's neck. Oh God, you should have never come to London.

But soon your coffee's were gone, and Olive was clearly ready for dinner. Without much discussion, you ended up in a small bistro with a friendly atmosphere. Olive demanded orange juice, and some came in a novelty sippy cup.

"That's way too fun. I'm so about to get one of those for myself." Joe decided, laughing over the boldly designed sippy cup. He really did order one for himself and kept pretending to steal Olive's and forgetting his own, making her laugh like crazy. You were just about to take a photo of the scene when your phone rang. It was Gwilym.

"Hello?"

"Hi," Gwilym greeted seeming sorry.

"Good day?" You wondered, unsure what else to say as a pang of strange guilt crept up inside of you.

"I'm just about to leave the city. Do you need a ride home? Should I pick up dinner?"

"No, no, wait where are you?"

Gwilym was literally a street away from where you were. So you demanded he come and enjoy the last half of your adventure. Joe was happy to hear your party was growing in size, and a kind waitress brought Olive a set of crayons and some paper to keep her from going crazy while stationed in a high chair.

That was about the time Gwilym showed up. He shouldered past a few patrons and laid eyes on you and Joe in an instant. Olive was holding out a crayon to Joe, babbling to him while he listened intently.

Gwil should have been jealous, or oddly territorial, right? He wondered if he should have even pretended to be. But Gwilym only felt a huge swell of happiness, watching you all laugh. He felt happy to see you happy for once. Because for a while now, your smile had mostly been for show.

When Gwilym approached your table, you couldn't even hold back your cheesy grin, while you rested your crayon and greeted him. Before he sat down, Gwilym gave you the strangest look. As if he'd just watched the end of a very satisfying movie. Like he'd just seen something unexpected come together.

Gwilym sat next to Joe, and the two made a show of reuniting. Then you both got to telling of the fun you had while Gwil was away, and even though a lingering sadness pulled at you, knowing Gwil was sad to have missed out, he seemed charmed by your stories. For the rest of the evening you all spent together, you kept crossing your fingers behind your back every time laughing at Joe's jokes seemed easy. You kept wishing this would somehow become as normal as it felt.

///

The weather was worse than dreary, the sky black with rain and fog clouding your view out of every window. Gwilym had been extra busy after the weekend break, so there wasn't much of a chance for you to visit him on set. As a result, Olive was going a bit stir crazy.

You did your best to keep the girl entertained with the children's channel permanently playing on the flat screen, attempting to build a fort in the living room. But it wasn't enough for Olive. She started tossing toys away with frustrated whines and wailing when she didn't like the breakfast you cooked, even though it was her favorite. And the crying got worse as you wrestled her for bath time and offered teething toys she just didn't want.

Going on day three of her never-ending tantrum, you were exhausted. And even though you barely slept, you were out cold when Gwilym made it home, and you hadn't heard him leave before you woke up. Your morning started when Olive wept from her cot, hardly soothed by your attempts to cuddle her frustrations away.

By the middle of the afternoon, you sat on the edge of the sofa, waiting for your poor daughter's next big breakdown. This time, it came with a warning. Olive stood on the opposite side of the coffee table, staring right at you as she reached for a cup full of juice.

You called out her name, warning her to be careful, giving her a chance. But the kid tossed the cup to the floor, the lid falling off, red seeping into the rented shag rug. She wasn't two yet. The days weren't supposed to be so terrible. You called out her name, standing to stop her from crawling away. The babe burst into upsetting cries, knowing she was in trouble. You placed her in the playpen across the room, taking her favorite toy bat as the only punishment you could think up in your frazzled, fatigued state. And while you rushed to clean up the stain to the tune of your daughter's sobs, you cried too.

Maybe Olive missed home. Maybe you did too.

"Hello-oh." Gwilym dropped his bags by the door and cautiously floated toward where you slumped against the coffee table. Olive was still wailing, and you were practically despondent and equally as tear-stained.

"Hi," You mewled as Gwilym held a hand out to. He shot you a sorry frown as he guided you to sit on the sofa.

Olive remained wailing, and you both knew something had to be done quickly or the baby would go permanently insane. Gwilym spun on his heels, noticing Olive's favorite toy bat on the coffee table. He picked it up, you thought, as an easy fix for her crying.

"Wait!" You plead. Gwilym looked to you in confusion as you hurried to explain yourself. "She's in time out. If you give that back, you'll be the good guy. I'll be the bad guy and I can't be the bad guy while I'm alone with her all day." You were panicking. You felt the walls closing in. You had to come back from this.

Gwilym listened as he slowly walked back toward you. Olive's cries were somehow dulled as she watched the two of you interact.

"She spilled juice all over the rug. I tried to clean it up but it's still kind of there. That's not even the half of it, though." You slumped forward, running your fingers through your hair.

"Then here, darling." Gwilym knelt before you, placing the plastic bat in your lap. He clasped one of his hands over your knee to get your attention. "You give it back to her, later."

Just the simple act of expressing your pent up frustration was a load off your shoulders.

"We'll run to the store for carpet cleaner. We'll even take the long way home so you can have a bit of quiet." Gwil assured.

"You don't have to take her, I know you've had a long day and-" You started.

"I'm gonna." Gwilym chuckled. He took your hand, placed it over the toy bat in your lap and gave a decided nod. "I'm sorry I've been away. And I'm sorry the week has been so hard. But I'm very glad you came to stay, for what it's worth."

You nodded, furrowing your brow. "Thank you Gwil."

With another small nod, he stood to collect your daughter, and you stood to go draw a bath. This might have been your only chance to relax for the rest of the foreseeable future. As you rounded the corner, before the door shut behind him you heard Gwilym talking to Olive,

"You've got to stop causing your mummy so much trouble. That's my job."

You wanted to laugh, but you knew you'd only cry. Because he made you want to shake his shoulders and sense into his head. But you really couldn't believe how much you relied on him. You considered this during a steam-filled bubble bath, and crawled into bed for a nap when you just couldn't think any longer.

///

You woke up to dull thuds of rain against the window, the smell of food in the air. Your daughter was babbling in the other room, and the sounds of pots and pans rattled you all the way awake.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes to find Olive flipping through big picture books in the low lit living area. A little further away, Gwilym was shutting the oven door when he noticed you.

"Hello! I got the stain out of the carpet and picked up some extra bits for dinner." The guy smiled kindly, turning back toward the stove when steam started to billow. You took a beat to watch on in wonder before thanking Gwil profusely for going above and beyond saving the day- the week rather.

Everything was back to normal, with a little help from the father of your child. "Oh, and I've got a surprise for later!" Gwilym echoed as you eased further into the kitchen.

Right when you were about to ask what the hell Gwilym was on about, a Facetime call from James lit up your phone screen. You answered in a flash, greeting your dearest friend like you hadn't spoken in years.

You settled onto the floor next to Olive who was just as pleased to see your roommate on your phone screen. You only stood when she kept threatening to chew on your phone case, and floated toward the kitchen where Gwil was happily working away.

"And how's the happy couple?" James jeered like usual, as you propped your phone against the counter. But instead of laughing, or giving some exaggerated answer like you always would, your face fell. Gwil shifted from the stove, noticing your expression as he turned down one of the burners.

"Tell him." Gwilym softly suggested, stepping closer as if to encourage you. You'd never planned to tell anyone. You weren't sure what to say, but you wondered if getting this lie off your chest to someone who it hardly affected might help, somehow.

"Uh, guys..." James pipped up.

"Actually, allow me to begin." Gwilym stepped further into the frame as you took his place string dinner on the stovetop.

"Oh, of course, our third wheel! Was I crazy in expecting this video chat date to be a one on one?" James wildly drew. You chuckled from behind Gwil, watching him lean both arms against the counter.

"Where's our fourth wheel?" You jeered from across the room. "This car is running like shite." You laugh. You missed Andy, and the comforting chaos your two roommates provided.

"Listen" Gwilym brought the focus back to the matter at hand. "I wanted to start by saying that I messed up and I really wish I hadn't. And every time I suggest making things right, your darling Y/N stops me."

Gwilym was obviously immensely regretful, but you were both in too deep. You had been long before he perpetuated the lie. But he still should have cleared the air from ever becoming even more sticky.

He went on explaining the whole situation to James, who listened without piping up once. James was never speechless. You must have really fucked up.

"You guys. I'm going to ask you something and I'm gonna need the honest, raw truth." James wasn't being funny anymore. You drifted closer into the frame, watching your best friends pixelated form lean close.

"Do either of you have feelings for each other? At all?" James questioned.

He'd asked this before, in a much more lighthearted manner. You and Gwilym had always been sickeningly doting to one another, giving the circumstances. Like one morning, very soon after finding out you were pregnant, you pleaded for Gwilym to spend the night simply to keep you company. The morning after, you both burst into a fit of giggles over breakfast, waking James from his bedroom down the hall. "Are you two shaggin' again?" He groaned. "God, no." You laughed.

"They bang, or whatever." James once said when introducing Gwil and a very pregnant you to some of his coworkers at a party. "We don't, actually!" You corrected. But Gwilym's hand was already splayed across your shoulder. James coworkers fixated their stares on your pregnant stomach and looked back up to you as if to prove a point. And you spent the rest of the party explaining that even though you used to bang Gwil, didn't mean you still were or even wanted to. Because you didn't. But you wanted to want to.

"No!" You sighed in frustration, after considering all of that. James' digital eyebrows rose as if to give you a second chance.

"Look. She's telling the truth mate. I don't think I have romantic feelings for her either. But I do love her and I feel like shite for making her put up with this, especially because-" Gwilym halted, ran his hand through his hair, and sighed. You knew exactly where he was going with this.

"Because...?" James prodded.

"It's not my place to say." Gwilym turned to look right at you.

"Y/N. What's going on?" James called. Right on cue, Olive cried from the other room, it must have been time for a change.

Gwilym stopped you from turning away and insisted he go. And when he drifted into the other room, you let out a deep sigh as your friend spoke up again.

"Now that he's gone... is there anything you need to confess?"

"I don't know what's going on James." You admitted, bringing your phone closer as you moved to lean against the door frame of the patio.

"You sure about that?" James squinted.

"I was so pissed at Gwil. But then I thought we could make it work. And I've been spending all week trying to think up exactly how to fall in love with my baby's daddy. And I just fucking can't." You gestured pitifully.

"You're sure? Love isn't a crush babe. Do you think of Gwil when he's away?" James wondered gently. "Do you feel at home when you look at him?"

And then all at once, there was a traffic jam in your heart. Something inside you stopped and caused all your other feelings to halt. Your realization was so massive that there was nowhere else to look but the cold hard truth.

"Not... not Gwilym, no." You spoke slowly, in a hush. That was what you'd always wanted. To feel like someone was your missing link. You wanted to feel sick with love. You'd longed to be looked at the way you'd seen in movies.

Joe's face blinded your vision, and it made you sick alright. Sick with the realization that no matter how badly you wanted Joe, you seemed to need Gwilym.

"Oh." James hummed like he'd read your mind. And with how closely bonded you two had become over the years, you didn't doubt the possibility. "I see."

"James I can't talk about this tonight." You realized, noticing Gwilym guiding Olive to crawl toward the kitchen for dinner. You feared if you started unraveling your tangled feelings that whatever the messy web was holding back would break through. And you couldn't let that happen. You promised James you'd fill him in soon, and hurried to hang up.

But before you could lock your phone and finish making dinner, you noticed an unseen message in your notifications. With a held breath you opened it,

Joe: Forgot to send you this! See you soon?

Below his simple statement was a photo you never knew existed. It was of you crouched next to Olive at the London Aquarium's penguin exhibit. Your silhouettes were illuminated by radiant blue light and you and your daughter were looking at each other, instead of the birds crowding near. Your heart swooped in your chest at the thought of Joe snapping the candid.

You let out a sigh and sucked your feelings way deep down in one giant breath, leaving your phone on the counter as you turned to unveil dinner from the oven.

Gwil quietly asked if you were alright in a way that sounded like he already knew the answer to that question. You convinced him everything was fine, that everything had to be fine. Then there was a knock at the door.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

taglist: @sonic-volcano @imtheinvisiblequeen @redspecialty @itscale @stardust-killer-queen @joemazzelo @dancetohotspace @kiwi-hardy @joeneslee @borhapqueen92 @im-an-adult-ish @johndeaconshands @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @beepbeephardy @slutforbritdick @joemazzmatazz @almightygwil

#joe mazzello #joe mazello x reader #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello imagine #gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee imagine

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ego-driven-one-wing-angel · 4 years

Text

1.5 BLOOD_WATER | Sephiroth

A/N: Chapter 5 is out, hope you have a swell time!

TAGS: Slow Burn, Mild Language, Angst, Future Bed Sharing, Future Angst, Original Male and Female Characters. Mostly Slow Burn.

CHAPTER ONE FOUND HERE

AO3 FULL STORY CAN BE FOUND HERE

1.5 - Chapter V

🌕 - Return

“Only happy people have nightmares, from overeating.

For those who live a nightmare reality,

sleep is a black hole, lost in time, like death”

-Guy Sajer

[TRACK: Sleeping at Last - Saturn]

Rocket Town quickly housed the injured soldiers before they even had a chance to thank them. The walls keeping them warm from the chilly mountain air, how sweet the meadow flowers made it smell. Much better than the smoke they left behind deep in the forest. The smell still stuck on Citlali’s clothes as she took a seat in the lobby, gladly taking one of the cold rags the inhabitants began to hand out.

Her ear still hurt. No longer ringing when they reached the third mile, but it had proved her hearing wouldn’t return to normal, not for a few days. Silas had periodically snapped in her ear as they walked side-by-side, every mile or so to retest her response. They were always dull, fogged and she was pretty sure the constant snapping would make her headache worse.

One of the lobby workers had seen the tiny shrapnel pieces lodged in her back, through her sweater where tiny spots of blood darkened the blue. Threading singed, overly saturated with the smell of burning metal. Even her skin was coated with a light layer of soot. Darkening her olive tone as she tried to relax on the chair.

Tweezers plucked at her skin in a few moments time, taking their sweet time to pull out the shards. Some as big as her thumbnail, others as small and thin as a pine needle. Thankfully, they were skin deep. Quick and painless, her hearing, however, was a different matter, and she was hoping Sephiroth would have forgotten her predicament before they arrived in town.

But just like John, he hadn’t.

“You’re staying here.” He said.

CItlali winced, both from the rag placed on her head and the words. “I’m not staying here.” Snapping, her words cut like silver and much more pronounced then the slurred words she had been giving out that day. The Silver Elite would be damned to know the way one of their members spoke to him. She was tired, hurting, and as nervous as she felt before, she needed to be there. “I’m going. You need men. Most of them here can’t walk more than a few miles and you are sure as hell not going out alone, who knows what numbers the other copters lost.”

Sephiroth’s brows furrowed just slightly. Almost as if his facial expression hadn’t moved at all.

Citlali didn’t make the situation any better as she stood up, the height difference prominent. How tiny she was in comparison in both size and skill.

John was a beast, a seven-foot-tall, two-hundred pound man of pure muscle. Sephiroth was much more lean, athletically built, a few inches cut short compared to John, but it didn’t take away the intimidation. Not by a long shot. It was stupid to even go agaisnt the words of a first class, to go against anyone above your rank. But it was a lesson Citlali hadn’t learned, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to start there.

“John was right about you,” Sephiroth spoke with the same amount of confidence as he always did. Unmoved by her speech. “Stubborn.”

“So what?”

Ouch. If past-Citlali somehow mastered the ability to time travel, she’d be kicking present-Citlali’s ass. The posters on her teenage wall spoke of nothing but admiration for Sephiroth, and she dreamed of being able to tell him how much she would love to share a cottage in the middle of bum-fucking-nowhere with him. Yet, there she was, dismissing his orders as she did John’s. As if her own plans were far more important and serious than a First-Class SOLDIER’s direct order.

Especially Sephiroth. The man anyone worked under without a single doubt in their mind. Citlali would have done so too, but the pounding in her head was telling her to fight. Go find John. At least find the wreckage and maybe she could get some sort of clarity.

“I’m not staying.” Citlali continued. The aches in her back now becoming prominent. “You can tell me no, that’s fine. You can tell me to fuck off for all I care and tear me a new one, but I’m going to leave this town, and it’s going to be with or without your permission.”

A small chuckle escaped him. Sending shivers down Citlali’s spine. That intimidation was back, ten-fold. The grace of laughter coated with something mischievous. “Alright.”

Citlali let out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding, like a burden had been lifted off her shoulders the moment he spoke. Her body had gone incredibly stiff. The panic of past-Citlali returning to finish the job spooking her to stay quiet. To not utter even a single word. She didn’t have to beg, or plead, or even bribe the guy to let her join.

He just said yes. And it somehow felt worse than a no.

“Why?” Of course she just had to say it anyway. Her impulse was as uncontrollable as her addiction to gambling. She always had to roll that final die, even if she just won hundreds. The high just as sweet in the action. “You’re not tricking me are you. Not pulling my leg so you and John can have a laugh about it later?”

Citlali briefly forgot John never laughed. Hardly showcasing anything other than a low-satisfied sigh, sometimes going as far as rolling his eyes at Citlali’s childish jokes or puns. He didn’t even give her the pleasure of a pity laugh. As stern and stoic as the rumors made him out to be.

Sephiroth had parted before she could ask him another set of unrelated questions. Perhaps, for the better. They had already wasted enough time resting in the Rocket Town Inn. A little R and R never hurt anyone, but when a rendezvous point needed to be met, resting rivaled your enemy. John and the others were still somewhere lost in the mountains, as bruised and battered as the rest of them, and most likely heading to the exact same location Sephiroth had disclosed earlier that morning.

Citlali only hoped all her guessing was correct.

She tried not to take too much time as she grabbed her weapon, the standard second class sword now covered in soot and damaged in the crash. The handle designs ruined beyond repair, and she’d be issued a new one the moment they returned to Midgar. Only, she wasn’t leaving for Midgar, and it was going to be longer than a few days before she’d walk back into headquarters. She only hoped it was a sharp as it still appeared to be, and scurried off to catch up with Sephiroth and Silas before they left her behind

It had been a few hours. Walking underneath the hot sun, bypassing common roads and streets to avoid detection. Listening to the creatures who roamed the woods, the dust sticking to their boots, and the roar of water not too far from them. They were close. Eerily close to the whipping white waters, warning them to stay away. They’d reached Wutai’s continent sooner than expected.

There wasn’t much conversation. Only the occasional intake of air. Citlali’s booming headache like a heartbeat, throbbing with every step.

It didn’t help that her hearing was still subpar.

But Silas, how she sympathized for him. Burns. Crimson against his bronzed complexion. A distinct line from where his metal bands had come in contact with his skin, leaving perfectly shaped circles now rubbing against leather. IrritatedIrritated from not only the blazing sun above them, but the constant picking his fingers had caused.

She bet it hurt, much worse than the aching pain in her ear. She always knew he could handle pain. Unnerved by the needles Shinra dispatched or the fire of being punched in the stomach. Coming back up without so much as a whine from his thin-shaped lips. How many stories those scars could tell. How similar Silas was to John.

A big brooding man who thought pain was beneath him.

Citlali wished she could pull that off.

Sticking her ground and letting the swing of a punch take her down. Experience pain differently. Instead she panicked anytime a doctor had given her a vaccination. The mako shots, needles and boosters never tired her. Adrenaline rushed to her heart whenever she was called into the medical unit, the scientists poking and prodding her with every unimaginable tool until she met their standards. She even flinched at a punch. Not something an upcoming first-class SOLDIER would do.

They made it look all too easy. Swallowing fear that is.

Sephiroth, John, Angeal and Genesis, the four faces of SOLDIER hiding their pain, their loss. Like nothing. Citlali stayed up too many nights wondering how it would change her. How she too would quietly smile in the cameras until the lights went off, revealing the sorrowful eyes of hurt and tragedy only when the curtains closed. How power ultimately corrupts them. How envious they’d become to want a normal life.

Citlali had already planned to never marry even before she signed her contract, but being told a hard and distinct no made it all the more delicious to consume. The forbidden fruit. Always. A perfect red apple that stayed beyond her fingertips, so painfully wanting her to take the leap. But she didn’t dare step over that bridge.

Not yet at least.

Citlali had almost walked into Sephiroth’s arm. Too lost in her thoughts and too hard of hearing to experience the deep and guttural growl escaping the forest. Close enough to listen in on the drips of it’s saliva hitting the gravel, it’s tail whipping through the leaves with sharp flicks, cutting branches in its wake.

Silas raised his gun.

#Final Fantasy #final fantasy vii #Final Fantasy 7 #final fantasy sephiroth #sephiroth #sephiroth fanfic #fanfic #sephiroth fanfiction #sephiroth x oc

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zuluoscarecho · 4 years

Text

It’s a Party

previously untitled Bathroom Fic is here! Many thanks to @jumbled-nonsense for all the help and support.

Part 1/5. Below the cut ‘cause...you know Read on AO3

Down in the Project Shepherd bunker they were celebrating, having shut down the R&D branch of the project. After months of digging through files and running algorithms and search code through the mounts of data they’d discovered the locations of two more R&D bases, one of which held over a dozen aliens. Weeks of planning and recon, most of which involved Alex trying to teach everyone (mainly Michael) patience resulted in a successful double strike mission in which they recovered over a dozen aliens from one site and even more data from the other, before activating the self-destruct sequences. They would still be rehabilitating and reintegrating the surviving aliens in the coming months and probably years but for now they could celebrate their achievements.

Liz and Rosa were good naturedly bickering over the ingredients in a virgin long island iced tea, half a dozen lidless bottles, and equally as many glasses spread out on the table in front of them. Maria stood beside them, trying her best to mediate as the actual expert on the matter but mostly just laughing as Rosa’s insults grew more and more creative.

Kyle and Isobel had finally agreed to put aside the stack of folders detailing the health and future needs of each alien and the plan that would be put in place for their future. Now they were seated across the table from the Ortecho sisters, champagne flutes in front of them, Isobel picking the olives off her pizza and dumping them onto Kyle’s plate.

The last of their team, Max and Jenna, were still at work, keeping an eye on any reports of the mass exodus they’d conducted from the Project Shepherd facility a state away.

Alex was so proud of what they’d all achieved and so grateful he’d managed to make some difference in the lives of people his family had abused and experimented on for decades.

He was leaning against the desk that held the bank of computers, watching as they devoured celebratory pizzas and drinks, his own beer in hand.

Michael stepped up close beside him and slid an arm around his waist, pulling Alex gently against him. Michael hooked his head over Alex’s shoulder and Alex let himself rest some of his weight on Michael, and off his prosthetic.

“Did I tell you how proud of you I am for getting this done?” Michael murmured, lips tickling at Alex’s ear.

Alex turned to face him with a small smirk. “No, but as soon as we get home I’ll let you show your…appreciation.” He moved his hands up to rest around Michael’s neck, unable to resist letting his fingers twist gently around the curls there. He knew from experience, that if he tugged just a little Michael would moan and let his head fall back into Alex’s palm and expose the long line of his throat to Alex’s mouth.

But now was not the time.

Michael just grinned, slow, like the liquid heat Alex could feel pooling in his gut. The same heat that always came from touching Michael. Alex stilled, knowing that smirk meant bad things for their ability to make it home before taking their clothes off.

“Did I tell you how hot it is that you’re so capable and intelligent and commanding?” Michael pressed kisses along Alex’s jaw, moving from light to heavy and hot, the tip of his tongue curving around Alex’s earlobe before he took it into his mouth.

Alex sucked in a breath, biting off a moan and reached for Michael’s belt loop to tug him closer.

“I know you like it when I’m the one giving you orders,” Alex replied, voice low enough for only Michael to hear.

It was as if everyone else had melted away, all Alex could see was Michael.

His eyes sparked and Alex knew he was thinking of the ordering Alex had done while they were in bed. They both knew he enjoyed it, and Alex did too.

“Gonna order me around now, Private?”

There was a long pause while Alex deliberated over the pros and cons of immediately dragging Michael into the bathroom. They’d been so busy lately they hadn’t had much quality time together. Michael dragging Alex away from his computer and into bed late at night, both too exhausted to do more than curl around each other under the covers for a few hours.

Michael just stared back at him, as if he knew exactly what Alex was thinking. And the tiny growing smirk on his face said he knew what the answer would be before Alex even reached the end of his deliberations.

Alex leaned forward decidedly to whisper in his ear. “Meet me in the bathroom. And take off your pants.”

Michael looked over Alex’s shoulder at the others, then back at him and Alex raised an eyebrow.

He saw Michael swallow before he turned abruptly and made a beeline for the bathroom that was off down one of the side hallways.

Alex took a few minutes to check in with the others, habit ingrained from his time in the military when the wellbeing of his team was a matter of life or death, before he quietly slipped away to follow Michael.

It was getting ridiculous now, how they couldn’t keep their hands off each other for longer than a few hours at a time if they were even vaguely in the same vicinity.

Michael thought it was hilarious, Alex pretended he was embarrassed, but really he was just as much the instigator as Michael was and always more than willing to go along.

He was still so unused to the freedom of being able to touch and kiss and take Michael whenever he wanted, not having to make the most of the short windows of opportunity they had together before he had to leave or they argued and forced themselves apart.

Alex knocked lightly on the door, pushing it open at the sound of the lock flicking open. Stepping inside he realised why Michael had used his powers to open it. Michael was otherwise occupied. He had two fingers, buried deep inside him as he stretched himself open. A packet of lube lay open on the counter next to a condom wrapper.

Michael’s shirt was balled up in the corner of the bench, out of the way, jeans around his ankles, belt clinking against the tile as he tried to spread his legs further than his jeans would allow.

“I’m not sure if you’re innovative or just desperate,” Alex mused thoughtfully, stepping closer for a better look. He put a hand on Michael’s hip, brushing his thumb against the small of his back as he undid his own jeans, letting them hang open on his hips as he admired the view of Michael getting himself ready for him.

“Can’t a man be both?” Michael panted out, eyes rolling back as he hit that sweet spot and searched for it again.

Alex reached for the lube and coated his own fingers, pulling Michael’s away and replacing them with his own.

Michael clamped his hands down on the edge of the counter, clinging tightly as Alex worked him open further. The angle was so much better, Alex could get so much deeper, his fingers thicker and more dexterous than Michael’s. Alex always managed to find his prostate instantly and then proceeded to avoid it as much as possible until Michael was begging.

Alex could happily spend hours stretching Michael open, seeing how long until he would beg for Alex to just fuck him already, how quickly he’d reach the point where words failed him and just wordless sounds escaped him.

But now was not the time.

There were so many things Alex wanted to do with Michael, their whole future was stretched out ahead of them, time enough for it all.

Alex pulled his fingers out, ignoring Michael’s whine as he pushed his jeans and underwear down to mid thigh and rolled the condom on. He slicked himself up with the remaining lube and pressed a kiss to Michael’s stubbled cheek as he looked searchingly over his shoulder.

“Cmon, Alex.” Michael groaned, pressing his hips back. He glared at Alex in the mirror, gaze desperate and hungry.

Alex held his gaze as he slowly pushed in, catching the moment Michael’s eyes fluttered closed in pleasure as he filled him. He arched his back, creating a perfect bow as he pressed back against Alex, allowing him deeper.

When Alex bottomed out inside he had to close his eyes for a moment and just breathe. Michael felt just as incredible as he always did but somehow it always felt like the first time for just a second.

A part of Alex was always thankful they got to have this, not just the sex, but each other in every way, after all this time. They’d worked so hard to get here, and while the sex had most definitely never been an issue, getting to love Michael was his favourite thing.

Michael groaned, impatient as always, shifting his hips in an effort to get Alex to move.

For a moment Alex considered resisting, considered trying again to teach Michael the patience he so obviously lacked, holding himself still until Michael was begging, so beautifully stretched around his cock.

But now was not the time.

He pulled out slowly, letting Michael feel every inch of him before he slid back in. “God, Michael, you look so good like this, you’re perfect.”

“Ngh, Alex, come on, please.” Michael’s voice was garbled as Alex slowly picked up the rhythm.

Michael reached down to grab his cock but Alex grabbed his wrist, dragging it up to grip the bench.

“No.” He caught Michael’s gaze in the mirror and held it. “I want to see if you can come like this, untouched, just from me inside you.”

Michael whined and Alex ran a soothing hand down his side, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“I know you can do it at home when we’ve got more time, but can you do it for me now?” His voice was low, breath hot as it brushed across Michael’s ear, turning him into a shuddering mess.

As Alex spoke, his hips didn’t stop their slow continuous roll into him.

Michael’s groans were desperate little needy sounds, escaped breaths that begged for more.

“We need to be quick, and quiet,” Alex continued, making sure to angle his thrusts to brush against Michael’s prostate. “We don’t want the others to know.”

Michael’s mouth was open, panting gasps escaping him, his cock painfully hard and red where it bobbed against his stomach.

“That’s it, baby.” Alex grunted, thrusts growing fast and sloppy as he felt his own release building.

“Fuck, Alex,” Michael whined, his breath coming out in sobs as he came hard, spurting ropes of come over the bench, the mirror and himself and clenching around Alex.

Alex followed, spilling into the condom and muffling Michale’s name into his shoulder.

Slowly, Alex pulled out and tied off the condom, dumping it in the rubbish. He grabbed some paper towel and dampened it in the sink to clean himself up while Michael straightened up on unsteady legs.

“That was good, you did so good.” Alex pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder as he passed him some paper towel.

“Jesus Christ, Alex.”

#Malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #untitled bathroom fic is here #my fic #no longer a WIP!

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queerchoicesblog · 5 years

Text

Never Alone (OH, Aurora & F!MC, Friendship)

I’ve been trying to write a friendship fanfic about Aurora and OH F!MC for a while and finally, inspiration came! Hope you lovelies like it!

In short, Meredith is finally waiting for her train after one hell of a night at E. R. dealing with the subway train derailment emergency. Out of the blue, she spots a familiar face nearby: her medical partner Aurora. So she decided to walk up and have a long-awaited chat with her.

Word Count: 1186

Perma Tag: @brightpinkpeppercorn @melodyofgraves @abunchofbadchoices @bhavf @bbaba-yagaa @silverhawkenzie @begging-for-kamilah @kennaxval @strangerofbraidwood @crazypeanat

I’m gonna tag @bubblygothzombie & @emeryharper too as I think/hope you might like this ;)

_____________________

It was past dawn when Dr. Valentine finally left Edenbrook. She was exhausted: the night at E.R. drained every ounce of energy out of her body. She had to grab her fourth coffee on her way out of the hospital to drag herself to the subway station. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of the subway train that derailed a few hours earlier causing all those victims. Jeopardising Rafael's life. When she saw him unconscious and vulnerable on the operating table, she felt a pang of terror at the thought of losing him but Bryce and Harper helped her to bring him back. That was close though, too close. Too close.

Meredith exhaled loudly and took the last sip of her coffee. As she looked around to find a bin, she spotted a familiar figure nearby.

Aurora!

Meredith threw the cup away and walked her way to the crowd of people until she stood beside her. Her partner was sitting on a bench, grabbing her head. The intern carefully placed a hand on her slumped shoulder, startling the Emery girl.

"Oh I'm so sorry, Aurora! I didn't mean to- I just saw you and..."

Aurora looked up at her with glassy eyes. Her mouth opened to say something but nothing came out.

"What a shift, huh?" Meredith grimaced, leaning against the wall for support.

"To say it was hell would be the understatement of the century" her partner commented grimly.

"Preach to that, girl. At least we survived it..."

"Yeah, sure..."

A certain kind of sadness and anger waltzed in the Emery girl voice when she laconically commented on her partner's words. Meredith took a mental note to try and ask about it later before saying:

"Oh look the train is here! Thank God, are you coming too?"

Aurora didn't answer, she just nodded and mechanically followed Dr. Valentine inside the train. They found two free seats it set into motion. After a moment of silence, the Emery doctor spoke again.

"Let's hope this one will take us home: after tonight I don't have enough energy to face another derailment"

She probably meant that as a joke to brighten the mood but the tiniest smile on her face didn't reach the eyes. Her face was numb, showing signs of severe tiredness and...Meredith couldn't wrap her fingers around what yet.

"Hey, I know tonight is a lot to process but...are you okay?"

It took a moment to Aurora to answer.

"Are you, Valentine?"

"I've had better days" Meredith conceded.

Dr. Valentine was pondering her next words when the awkward silence between them was suddenly broken by her partner again.

"I totally sucked, I could have killed someone tonight. Because...because I didn't know what to do and there were so many of them! Mirani roasted me and he was fucking right! God, how could I even be number one once? I-" Aurora started saying but was soon cut short by a bump on her arm.

Aurora turned immediately.

"What the hell? You punched me, Valentine?"

"I'm too tired to formulate a full speech so I decided to use punches whenever you say bullshits"

"That's not bullshit! It's...objective!"

"Oh c'mon! We all had a bad day today, you had a bad day and panicked during one hell of a rush but you recollected yourself-"

"Only thanks to you"

The Emery doctor diverted her eyes, shame and delusion written all over her face. Meredith noticed that and sighed.

"Aurora, it's not thanks to me. You did the tough part of the job. I'm just your partner, I help whenever I can"

"Still if it wasn't for-"

"Another punch?"

Aurora opened her mouth but kept quiet. After a moment she said

"What I mean is...thank you, Valentine"

"It was nothing, partner"

Aurora punched Meredith's knee.

"I call bullshit this time! You know how things work here: your fellows and partners wouldn't hesitate to throw you under a bus or stab you with a scalpel if it wasn't an actual crime to get to the top of that goddamn ranking. They see you in trouble? They let you drown in deep waters without a second thought!"

"Trust me, I know"

Dr. Valentine lowered her eyes and frowned. Her partner felt a pang of guilt for her last comment: she remembered that Meredith said something about "realizing who sabotaged her". Stupid self! Say something, now!, she thought. She cleared her throat and added:

"My point is...this is what most do here, exceptions are rare. And you're one of them"

Meredith met her gaze. Exhaustion finally showed.

"If I win, I want to win fair and square. I don't want to become a doctor sabotaging or hurting others in the process. If I get that fellowship, it's because I deserve it. If I don't, I want to believe the lucky winner truly deserves it and will do their best for this place, for these patients. That they will be better than me and it will be okay. It's not just a competition, we're not in school anymore, right? I know you feel the same way"

A tired smile formed on Aurora's lips.

"I do. Despite what most think"

Meredith took a deep breath and spoke again.

"I know we got off to a rocky start and I sincerely apologize for giving you even the slightest impression that I thought you were at the top because you're Dr. Emery's nephew. I want you to know that such thought has never crossed my mind. Not even once. I respect you: you were first because you deserved to be. And to be honest, I understood why you were so relieved to fall behind"

Aurora gaped at her. Since she entered the competition, nobody has ever spoken to her like that.

"I'm not your enemy, Aurora. Can we start over?" she extended one hand. "Olive branch?"

The Emery doctor was taken aback. She looked Valentine right in the eye but couldn't find any sign of deception on her partner's tired face. She seemed genuine, painfully genuine. So she nodded and shook her hand. However, after a moment, she asked shyly:

"Why are you doing this, Valentine?"

Meredith gave the Emery girl the brightest smile she could manage.

"Because we're partners, Aurora. And partners have each other's back. Who knows. one day we may be even friends" she squeezed her shoulder.

At that moment, the train started slowing down to a stop. Meredith spoke again.

"This is my stop"

Since she kept falling back to her seat whenever she tried to stand, Aurora helped her and with a little bit of luck and some shared giggles, Dr, Valentine finally stood. Before getting off the train, she turned towards the fellow intern.

"Thanks, partner! Now go get some shut eye,we both need it...but please remember this: you're never alone. Ever! Okay? Oh and please call me Meredith. Night, Wonder Woman!"

A hint of a smile appeared one Aurora's exhausted face as she waved Meredith bye. It still lingered on her lips as she stood in front of her flat's door.

You're never alone, Aurora. You're never alone...

#open heart #aurora emery #aurora emery & f!mc friendship #playchoices #choices stories you play #choices fanfiction

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tarralin · 6 years

Text

Family

Fox Hunt, Chapter Eight

(Board gifted by @under-sengoku-skies)

Thank you @nyktoon-ikemenlove for beta reading and @rainyluneotome @tsundere-mitsuhide for the support and love you've shown for the feisty sniper RM!

Warning: Moderate Profanity

~*~

“Oh?”

“You sound surprisingly calm about that.”

“Do I?”

All his years of practice at suppressing his emotions must finally be effective on her because ‘calm’ would never make the list of what he felt in that moment. He felt the tide had finally flooded in to drag him to a watery grave, thrashing him against the cliffs the whole way. Air escaped him and refused to return. Even when she brought their entwined hands to her lips, his knuckles were painfully white.

“But now? I don't know.”

Breathing capabilities returned and he inhaled as he pulled her fully into his lap, encircling her with his arms. He could work with ‘but' and help her work out the decision, regardless of the pain it caused him. “What’s changed?”

She'd never been one for idle chatter and, usually, the silence between them was companionable. Now it was stifling, for all the while MC worried her bottom lip between her teeth, Mitsuhide could feel the air escaping him again. His relief finally came with a soft sigh from her lips.

“This is the most peaceful I've been in years… if not ever.”

His arms tightened around her in attempt to assure himself he hadn’t wandered into a dream. Her words seemed to flow freely without hindrance, indicating truth… but, still, a small note of remorse remained.

“You have family? I’ve been meaning to question you on your homeland... How lazy of me as an interrogator.”

She rolled her eyes with a small smile before answering. “Two friends who are more like sisters to me. RM and JR. Although, they were married to my brothers so they really were my sisters for a time.”

Were? For a time? That’s curious phrasing. “Are they… no longer married?”

“My brothers were soldiers, Mitsuhide.”

His arms tightened around her again with the realization of those words.

“I have a third brother, Michael, but we haven’t said a word to each other since Mark and Macon's burial five years ago. I’m sure he prefers to think me dead as well.”

“I doubt—”

“I don’t,” she interrupted softly. “Michael was the eldest of us, eighteen years my senior actually, but he never acknowledged me as his sister. He blamed me for Mother’s death and became heavily invested in his career as a soldier so we only had to tolerate each other around certain holidays. I was often away on my own missions so rarely even then.” A sigh as she finished. There was no love for this ‘Michael’ in her eyes, only a darkness he knew meant she’d have no qualms leaving him behind.

But not the sisters.

The hardened darkness dissolved as she blinked away the past. “I… assume you’ve figured out my line of work?”

“What’s makes you think that?” He smirked down at her.

“Please,” her lips pursed incredulously. “You and Oda seem to be the only ones who'd figure it out, and he has made zero allusions to the fact if he has. You, however, love your little mind games and jabbing comments. Like when you questioned Hideyoshi last week on my ‘capabilities’, I heard that lilt in your voice.”

He paused. Yes, he had figured it out. The intensity of her gaze and how she always mapped out her surroundings. Her tone of command and confidence with every spoken word. The very way she carried herself as if daring any to stand in her path. All aspects that only high ranking warriors possessed. And she knew he’d realized the truth, of course.

“I’d expect nothing less.” A simple enough answer whispered across her temple. This earned him a contented sigh and her head resting on his shoulder once again.

“May I ask, how you recognize it but the others don't?”

“I've interrogated kunoichi before. Your mannerisms are similar to theirs and you are far too superior to the description of the western traders’ women.”

“Well, as much as I appreciate the compliment, I still feel there’s more you're not telling me.”

“And you have proven to be quite perceptive.”

She rolled her eyes again but allowed the deflection to stand. “Fine, keep your secrets for now. You’ll tell me when you’re ready, right?”

He was just leaning down to answer with a kiss when the unmistakable snapping of a branch cracked through the air.

~*~

Fuck!

RM was very aware of the fact she was falling.

Her earliest years in the military were spent paratrooping into the thickest of enemy encampments, so the sudden dropping of her gut was a familiar phenomenon and she didn’t fear the fall so much as the landing...

Because she didn’t come prepared with a fucking parachute!

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Sorry, MC, I failed. I’ll be awaiting my second death upon your arrival to the afterlife. Keep me waiting on that, okay?

RM had just squeezed her eyes shut when she slammed into a rock hard wall, the oxygen ripping from her lungs upon collision. The wall crumpled under the blast, allowing the inevitable reunion with sweet, solid earth. Around her, she could hear the startled shouts of men and… horses?

Why are there horses in the afterlife?

Slowly, she peeked open one eye. Still blue sky, still trees… and that is definitely an unhappy horse. And it's saddled… where's its rider?

Suddenly, there was movement under her and she was shoved to the side. She attempted to get her feet as quickly as her loaded down backpack would allow, but RM felt more like an overturned tortoise than a former Olympic gymnast. Agility always decreased when she had to carry a pack.

Finally making it to her feet, RM found herself staring down at what—or rather who—she’d mistaken for a brick wall. Oh, there’s the rider! And no wonder I thought he was a wall... homeboy is stacked!

“Thanks, bro! You broke my fall. That impact might have killed me if it weren’t for you.” The surprise of being thrown from his horse turned to pure bewilderment in his chocolate eyes at her words. Oh, right! Japanese, not English. Damn it, this is why I’m always on the roof tops!

“Sorry, I forgot there for a moment.” She offered her hand toward the brunette but he refused to look at her now as he scrambled to his feet and back to the horse to soothe the creature. He returned a moment later with a bundle of cloth and a face as red as his clothing.

“For your—” If possible, his face deepened another shade of red that would stir envy from a tomato. He became incapable of speech and instead motioned to his arms and legs while glancing away to the trees over her head. Curious, she glanced down to inspect herself. No, nothing's ripped. Shirt? Good. Shorts? Good.

She unwrapped the bundle anyway to look upon the unmistakable shape of a kimono. Glancing back to Homeboy's face, his eyes were still averted and pointedly inspecting the trees. “You… want me to wear this?”

“Well, it'd be a lot better than indecency.” Another blind hand motion, this time indicating her lower body.

“Indecency?” She laughed at the absurdity of the word. He can't be serious. “What? You've never seen a woman in Daisy Dukes before?”

His eyes met hers finally and he opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the beating of hooves approaching.

“Yuki, I saw you get hit. Is everything al—”

Ain’t this some shit? It’s the Science Kid!

Very few targets ever left RM's kill-sight with all their brains intact, and she made a point to remember the faces of the ones that did. The last face just so happened to belong to the one person on the planet that could solve all her problems. But, instead of the lab coat and green buttoned shirt she last saw him in, the man in front of her looked straight out of a ninja anime.

“Sasuke?” She questioned without preamble.

“Yes, that's me.”

“Well I’ll be damned, signed, sealed, and delivered right on Satan's doorstep! Look at you all leveled up and shit!”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

A bark of humorless laughter. “I wouldn't expect you to, you only knew my sister after all, but we’re, uh—” A pointed look to the man in red. “We're from the same hometown and I have something for you.” The ninja’s expression never changed but his eyes did follow her movements as she rummaged through her bag. Once she lifted out the intended parcel, his eyes widened and he jumped from his horse.

“These are my research notes!”

“Yeah, Merry Christmas! Your gift to me can be helping find MC and getting back home.”

“MC is your sister?”

“So you have met her?”

A simple nod as he blinked up at her, no doubt trying to form a familial connection in his head and run their differing features against each other. MC's almost black hair and blue eyes against RM's chestnut waves and hazelnut ones, as well the obvious difference of MC’s classic Caucasian complexion compared to her own Italian olive.

“Don't have to be blood to be family,” RM finally sighed. “Anyway, where did you last see her?”

“That's not something that can be discussed here in the open and—” He paused as his gaze froze on the one he called Yuki. “What’s wrong?”

“Uh, she's—” More enveloping hand movements indicating her attire.

Sasuke glanced back again and only now seemed to notice what had turned the brick wall of a man into an unintelligible mess. “Oh, right. Yuki, we have much different clothing choices back home. Miss, might I suggest wearing what my friend gifted you?” He leaned in and whispered his final comment where Yuki wouldn't hear. “You're in the sixteenth century.”

What's that got—

Oh.

Oooh.

So… no. Homeboy hasn't seen a woman in Daisy Dukes before.

RM unlatched her pack's chest clips and shucked it off her shoulders to dress. Years of rebelling against her family’s insufferable traditional views, and here she was landed in the middle of those views again. Though, they’re probably not considered ‘traditional’ yet.

“RM, by the way. You can call me RM.”

“Well, RM,” Yuki started as he dusted himself off, “what the hells were you doing in a tree? In bandit-infested woods for that matter?”

RM smiled sweetly as he had unknowingly provided her a cover story. “Precisely that reason. I was chased but gained enough distance to climb up and hide. And I was just, uh, coming down when I lost my footing.”

An almost imperceivable nod of approval from Science Ninja. “Were you on your way to Echigo? Yuki and I are headed there now. We can discuss your sister once we’ve rested.”

“That would be fantastic.” RM released a sigh of relief at his words… even if the Yuki guy didn’t seem particularly thrilled.

~*~

“So, let me get this straight...” RM needed to confirm the insanity of the situation before she snapped on the Science Ninja who seemed to be doing his best to bring her up to speed. He had brought her dinner and was now preparing her to meet his bosses. “This Oda dude picked MC up after she saved him and named her a princess of his clan… and now your bosses plan to take her hostage to use against him? Is that correct?”

“Yes, that is accurate. I've refrained from interfering because it will be easier to return home with her nearby.”

“What's her ETA?”

“Lord Shingen will have to answer that as he is the one who dispatched the retrieval team. Soon though, I’m sure.”

RM kept her thoughts on that to herself. Like Hell MC will allow herself to be captured again. Girl, just what kind of shit have you gotten into? Wait until the next time you try to lecture me on blending in…

RM dropped her hashi in frustration. “Well, where is he? I need answers!”

“And answers I may be able to provide for such a divine creature.”

The bellowing voice startled her as it boomed from out of her sights. Turning, RM was met with a mountain of a man that instantly took her hand in his, stroking her knuckles gently. “I truly did not believe it when Yuki told me an angel had descended unto him from the heavens, but now that I see you with my own eyes, I cannot help but feel blessed by such a vision.”

Ah... a playboy… this I can use. Kudos to you, wormhole. You put me right where I needed to be.

RM pulled out her sweetest smile again while mimicking his movements and stroking his knuckles as well. “You must be Lord Shingen. Sasuke was just telling me about you.”

“Good things I hope.”

“Oh, of course. Some of them being that you’d cooperate with my questioning. So...” She allowed him to pull her to her feet before taking her hands back and folding them across her chest to show she was now serious. “I need to know when you dispatched this retrieval team of yours for the Oda Princess and how many you sent.”

He chuckled at her tone, but the gleam in his eyes told her she hadn’t lost his interest. “Very well, my angel, I sent four of my finest men two days ago. They should be collecting the Oda Princess now and returning with her in another two days’ time.”

RM inhaled deeply and paced back to her dinner, proud that she hadn’t laughed in his face. Four men would not be enough to subdue MC. The Oda had treated her respectfully according to Sasuke, even providing her a station of some power and control over the household. As ridiculous as it sounded to her, MC had been here for almost six weeks now, whereas it had only three days for RM since that fateful lightning strike. Knowing MC, she considered this her temporary home and she would fight against any semblance of an attack to protect it, regardless if she knew what the intended target was or not.

RM picked up her hashi once more to focus on her dinner. “Well, I hope you didn’t call any of those ‘finest men’ your friend.”

Sasuke's eyebrow arched in silent inquiry at the same time Shingen lost all traces of his seductive smile. “Why do you say that?”

“Because if they’re not dead already… then they’re going to wish they were.”

#ikemen sengoku #ikesennw #ikesennw reblog #ikesen #ikesen sasuke #ikesen shingen #ikesen mitsuhide #fox hunt #fh #ikesen fanfic #fanfic #ikemen sengoku fanfic #my writing

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matthewxdavidson · 5 years

Text

Landslide || Mellie

Tagging: Matthew Davidson & Ellie Berry Where: Matt’s house When: March 7, 2019 Notes: Just a lot of pain.

Ellie

Exhausted both physically and emotionally, El parked her car in Matt's garage and trudged inside. She'd hit such a low yesterday and honestly she still hadn't fully recovered. After spending the night in her room she'd gone back to Steven's house and quietly snuck into the bedroom. There was nothing to talk about. Nothing to say. And she was pretty sure that's how it was going to remain. She'd felt so horrible that she hadn't even considered reaching out to Matt. She honestly didn't feel like she deserved to have anyone supporting her. Yet, here she was; walking through his house. One she'd become very familiar with over the course of their relationship. Even from the start, when they were just messing around, Matt always knew how to make her smile and she desperately needed that tonight. Once inside, she dropped her bag on the nearby couch and called out his name. "Matt? I'm here." She made her way further into the house, "I know I'm late, but you better not be soaking in my bath!"

Matt

Matt was in the kitchen and had an unopened bottle of wine there with a corkscrew. He’d forgotten his phone in the study, where piles of paperwork swarmed his desk due to tax season, and picked it up. As he walked through the kitchen again Matt heard El while he skimmed the last few texts she sent. He walked out and saw her, but before he said anything he went to wrap his arms around her and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “No. I haven’t set foot in it yet. I was about to open the wine and finally got to reading your last texts. What did you and Steve talk about to make that happen?” He pulled back but only to look down into her eyes.

Ellie

Before El could even settle into the embrace, Matt asked the dreaded question. The one she hoped to avoid. At least for a little while. She didn't want to go back there and relive the conversation, but she owed it to him to be honest. She sighed softly as she peered back up at him, "We were house hunting and - and after we found a house. One that's ridiculously too large for two people, I thought maybe I could extend an olive branch. Make a gesture that would show how serious I was about the three years" she paused and placed her hands on his chest, "I'd gotten a question about whether I was going to take his last name and it was something he'd mentioned before the clusterfuck I created. Anyway, I offered." She pursed her lips and looked down, the same choking feeling taking hold, "he questioned my motives. I tried explaining why, but - he didn't believe me and then when I tried to clarify things got painfully ugly. He said things that hurt and I broke down in tears. I felt worthless and like the world's worst person " She finally looked back up at him with tears in her eyes and licked her now salty lips, "And I still do."

Matt

Of course he didn’t want to see her upset or know that something like this happened. Matt’s phone went into his back pocket and he moved around so he could carry her in his arms and abandoned the bottle of wine because this wasn’t the type of crappy day he thought she had. “I think your heart was in the right place and you didn’t mean anything by it but it’s really all about timing when it comes to things. By throwing Bri and Steve the way we did that it set us back by many step. Shit, Bri and I got along really well but now it’s always strained when we talk. It sucks but it’s the reality.” He spoke all throughout the talk up to his large master bath. Matt set her down and started to help undress her. “I think the best thing to do is let them come to us when they want to talk about things regarding the marriage. Especially after we have our talk with them on Saturday. It’ll be hard and you’ll feel like you’re wasting valuable time but fights like the one you had today only sets you back even more.”

Ellie

El knew he was right, but it didn't make the situation any less painful. The only thing she could really take comfort in was knowing she and Matt were in this together. She looped her arms around his neck and leaned against him as he whisked her upstairs. "I know," she said, lifting her arms over her head, so he could remove the oversized sweatshirt with ease. When had they become so comfortable around one another, so in sync? She toed off her shoes and removed her bra, not feeling an ounce of embarrassment or discomfort. "I just - she paused, shimmed out of her jeans and panties. "What if our meeting on Saturday proves to he fruitless? Like what if we can't come to some sort of agreement? I won't survive three years of this - whatever it is he and I have. It's painful for both of us." Naked she pulled her hair in a bun and then looked over at him, "Aren't you planning on joining me?"(edited)

Matt

“I will as soon as you get some time in.” He said as he moved the clothes over to the side and sat on the edge of the garden tub and looked at her. “That’s a possibility we need to plan for. This may prove to be too risky for us to do. Look at how many people learned our business when all we said is we wanted to give us a chance. That’s a lot of people to keep account of.” He sighed and turned to add more hot water to the now tepid tub. “But the cabin serves as an added precaution that I want them to know about. To show we do want to be careful.”

Ellie

El stepped into the oversized bathtub, prepared to get lost in the warm water, but his words were like ice water on her skin. "No. I can't accept that as a potential outcome." She sat up and grabbed his hand, "We've given up too much to be together. Broken too many hearts." She looked down at the rippling water, feeling that painful knot again. "We'll just have to show them how serious we are about not taking risks. Like I said, my room has a private entrance and your house is secluded. And as you said we'll have the cabin. Visits will be arranged in advance." She forced herself to look back up at him, feeling that fear start to build, "We'll just have to make sure that no one else learns about us. We've already lost so much. We can't lose each other too. Then no one will be happy and all of this will have been for nothing."

Matt

The reaction she gave was expected and Matt let her say her piece, but he did want to hear her thoughts and it only made him wish they could have had this talk before telling Bri and Steven in the first place. "Whose hearts have we broken? Bri and Steven are still too new to us to have broken them and I think when it comes down to it Mercedes was the only casualty in the mix. We disappointed people and made them think they were lead on and lied to but I'm not sure when it comes to breaking hearts but we do need to be realistic when it comes to our plan. There are four people involved. Two couples. There are a lot of situations that may arise that we have to consider. I do understand how much we've gone through to reach this point but if we don't prepare for the worse when it comes to our situation then it'll turn into a bad fight and that's not what we want. And that's when it'll feel like it was for nothing."

Ellie

El puffed out her cheeks and blew out a breath. The water providing little to no comfort. "I understand all that. I do. I just hate how this has all played out and there really is no plan. We have ideas and suggestions, but how exactly are we supposed to go about this?". She asked while reaching for a towel, "And it terrifies me to think that there's a chance you're going to walk away. That you're going to decide the risk is too great and -" she licked her lips and carefully rose on her knees, "-and tell me that we need to put this on hold or something." She wrapped the towel around her breasts and slowly stood, "Because here's the thing I don't go around telling every man I know that I love him and want a life with him. It's sort of a special thing for me. Meaning, you're special to me. I also don't want a nasty fight. I've had enough of those to lately to last a lifetime. And as for breaking hearts? You didn't hear how Steven spoke to me. It may have been new, but I hurt him. I didn't just make him feel led on. I hurt him which in turn hurt me. I'm also pretty sure you did some damage to your own heart. So there might only be two couples, but there have been more casualties than just Mercedes.". She brought her hands to cup his face, "We need to go into this on the same page. If you want to plan for the worst, fine. I'll give you that, but if we want this then we may have to be prepared to fight for it."

Matt

"I picked a hell of a time to get into a relationship for the first time to have it go this way." Matt said, moving his hands to cover hers before he pulled them down. "And that's the reality of our thing, El. The risk is great and I can only handle so much stress in my life. The same with you. I see how it eats you up inside to have this rift. This uncertainty between you and Steven. And I've only loved two women in my life and I wish that all of this came about at a better point because it would be a lot easier than it is." He held her hands and stared down at them. "But I don't know how much fight I have in me when we're only a couple weeks in and it's been nothing but this. Things were better when we were just having fun. Before we took the leap. Now it's just constant ups and downs."

Ellie

El looked down at their hands and licked her lips. Could this day seriously get any worse. "I don't know what to say, Matt. I really don't. I can't force you to fight for me. I can't." She sucked in a deep and shaky breath, "I also don't want to be the cause of more stress. All I can say is I love you and despite the situation see a future with you." She released his hands and ran her fingers through her hair, "And things weren't better when we were just having fun because it was a lie. Maybe not at first, but we kept getting closer and closer. She placed her hand on his shoulder and climbed out of the water. She was just so tired. "When you told me loved me and wanted to take thia step, I didn't question. I didn't hesitate. I blew my marriage to hell and hurt a man I truly do care about because I wanted us. And I'm not blaming you. It was me. I jumped. I followed my heart and fucking leaped."She continued while grabbing her sweatshirt. "My marriage is over. There's no uncertainty. He might as well have a calendar with x marks on it as he counts down the days and again that was my doing. I thought this is what we both wanted. We both knew it wouldn't be easy. That there would be non-stop ups and downs in the beginning." She slipped her jeans on and crammed her panties in her pocket, "I think I should go and give you some time to process. Decide what you really want. If this - us is worth the risk. I want you to want me so much that you're willing to go to hell and back. Just like I would for you. We both deserve that." She closed the gap between then kissed him gently longingly - lovingly. "I love you so much. But I really should go "

Matt

Why was it everyone's instinct to run as soon as he started to speak what was on his mind or heart? About his worries and that maybe he wasn't as strong as the other people around him? That he didn't have in him mentally to put up with it all. And things that he felt he went through with Mercedes felt as if it was starting to repeat itself in some way. That there was love and understanding but there was also a choice which needed to be made. And Matt did make his decision but he also made his decision when he stupidly didn't consider just how serious all of this could topple over. That he fooled himself to think that somehow the four of them could make this work but El was fighting with Steven and he as at a weird place with Bri and Mercedes....? That was a whole other thing. "I'm sorry, El. I know this isn't how you planned things to be when it came to us." He felt so small saying this and kept seated. "I thought I could handle this but I think deep down I knew I couldn't. That I wasn't ready. That I kept saying I needed time to figure things out and I know what I feel for you is real but everything that's come after me admitting my feelings to you and then the sudden onslaught of, well, everything. It just shows that I should have trusted my gut because I'm not ready. And I wish I can be that man who fights for you. For us. But I can hardly fight for myself."

Ellie

El paused to collect her thoughts. Her entire world was crumbling around her and she knew she should have just cut her losses and bolted, but she couldn't. Not yet anyway. With her clothes stuck her wet skin, she walked back over to him and took a seat. "Stop. Please. It's not about being ready. It's about believing your worth someone's love and devotion." She looked over at him and smiled, "And you are by the way However, if you really don't want to go forward, I won't - can't force you. We're just not in a position where we can go back and forth." She reached down and intertwined their fingers, "Before I go and try to piece together whatever is left of my life without you, I want you to ask yourself if you're really ready to say goodbye. Like - give us - give me up? I get it. You're scared. I'm scared. This whole thing is fucking terrifying and there are other people involved and," she looked at him with everything ranging from hope, fear and love reflecting in her eyes, "we made a mess. A huge colossal mess. One I highly doubt can be replicated. But I do love you. And I believe you when you say you love me. No one is ever ready. Do you think I planned to fall in love with you? You drive me nuts, but I can't imagine my life without you in it.". She brought his hands to her lips, "Just give us a chance. Don't give into the fear. We'll both end up miserable if you do."

Matt

He had a hard time looking at her because here was someone who wanted him. Who wanted to make things work and to be there for him. She pour her heart out to him and laid everything on the line and he was in the same boat, that he basically risked it all for them to work but in the end....Matt knew he needed to take care of things and he wasn't sure if he could. Not while he had a lot of people hurting. But he was about to hurt her in the process and he could feel himself start to get that familiar sense of self hate but he didn't want her to see that side to him. He didn't want anyone to. "I want to give us a chance, El. But..." he finally looked at her. "I think we need to end this for now. You need someone who can be completely there for you. Who is consistent and steady and strong. Who can mentally handle a lot of this and that's not me." How could he go though this again? How could he fuck up something good? "I think what I need to do is really focus on myself. I should have been doing that as soon as I felt myself get bad again but I went and just did the opposite and then the marriage thing came along and then we met and it just was bad timing. Not for us to learn how much we love each other but for me to try to make a relationship work when I'm not able to. And I know that no matter what I say you'll still be hurt because I'm doing that to you now. I'm hurting you. And I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

Ellie

El pursed her lips and stared. She heard the words, but she'd gone numb. It was all bullshit. She'd literally destroyed her entire world for him and he was 'letting her go,'. She cleared her throat, in hopes of feeling something, anything again. Honestly she probably could have jabbed herself with an ice pick and still felt nothing. "I - I need to go." She rose to her feet in an almost robotic fashion. "I don't really think sorry is going to cut it here. I- you're a coward. I sat here telling you I'd fucking do anything for you. I destroyed my life for /you/. " She shook her head, trying to piece her thoughts together as everything finally crashed down and it suddenly felt like there was an anvil on her chest. "And hurt doesn't begin to describe what I'm feeling. I thought I felt broken before, but you certainly blew that right out of the water. Everyone warned me. Even Blaine said I wasn't different. That -" now the tears were flowing and she could barely get the words out. Everything she wanted to say was a jumbled mess as she literally started to shatter in front of him. "I gave you ALL of me. And - and there's nothing left. So keep my fucking heart because I don't need it. I - " she trailed off, her voice rasping and cracking. Her vision completely obscured by the tears welling in her eyes. After what felt like an eternity, she spun on her heels and sprinted down the stairs. She didn't even bother grabbing her bag. She simply grabbed her keys and took off. She had no idea where she was going, but she knew she needed to get as far away from here as she possibly could.

#para: ellie

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punkscowardschampions · 5 years

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Janis & Grace & Jimmy

Janis: Fucking Phones! *Janis shouts, her frustration kicked into overdrive, phone shotput at the nearest wall before she can think about it. If it wasn't broken before, like. Paces over to the shattered remains, not to cradle with regret, but to put the boot in further, stomping heavily on the useless hunk of junk 'til she's satisfied. Deep breaths were saved for AFTER the storm, not some pathetic vain attempt to stop the inevitable. She was well past that stage. Had she EVER been so naive to be at that stage? Had she ever tried to stop herself? What was the point? She knew how strong she was, how strong IT was, knew better than to get in her own way, like. As she was pondering what the fuck to do now, someone who had NEVER learnt to get out of the oncoming tide's way walked through the door. Oh, Gracie. How many times have you been left shattered on the floor? Stung to think about. Not just 'cos she'd got glass in her feet that needed dealing with. But first- Despite agreeing with Jim earlier, Janis knew her twin better, knew there was more to it. What she did not know was what to do about it. Whatever it was. Gulp. An olive branch disguised as you'd be doing me a favour. That'd have to do it.* Grace? Can I borrow your phone quick, like. *She gestured to the crime scene below her feet.* Grace: *She's a liar, concerned with only the promise that today the gym would be packed, and it was. Every lad who flexed to get girls had eyes for the ones they ranked before Grace walked in, and the girls that were above it, or faking that they were, locked onto their camera roll as they did their work out, looking at themselves, 'done with anyone else, honestly'. She took selfies herself, because without being focused on the insta numbers what did she have, a playlist that preached empowerment without giving her any? Tragic. Pathetic was all she felt next to them, solidarity wiped off her radar by the invisibility she needed and hated. Fuck the sisterhood. Mother nature's turned her back and over it without a 'thank you, next. There's more space at home for her than here. Beyond tragic. Still she goes there minus any juice or coffee stops, there's no craving that can touch how much she doesn't want to run into the growing list of people who she'd die if she had to deal with being around. Obviously she near collides with one of the first immediately because OH MY GOD she can't get a break right now. Coping with only being wanted for her phone is easier than expected though. Grace unlocks and hands it over wordlessly, keeping her attention on what is gestured and so #relatable.* Janis: *Janis nods her thanks, doing her level-best to pretend her sister, silent, wasn't a total headfuck; Wished for many a time but she'd never professed to being careful, had she? The tapping out of a quick text the only sound allowed to occupy the vast space between them. Allowing the awkwardness to grow, as if it could bridge the gap, Janis read his reply (received in record time, by the way) and made huge effort not to smile smugly because she REFUSED to be one of those girls, even though that had had the potential to unite her with her twin in the past, it felt like a bad move now. She wasn't one of those girls either. Not really Not deep down. And she certainly did not seem it nowadays. Oh how we have changed, my friend. She handed the phone back as silently as it had been given, intent on leaving it at that but, for some reason, words tumbling as thoughtless as the rain of violence had upon her own phone just moments ago, she just asked her.* Do you want to come out with us? We're not doing anything exciting, like. So you don't have to...But if a bit of normality sounds good, though; gotta walk the dogs and his brother and sister, run some errands up town. *She finishes lamely with a casual shrug, as if that took nothing, as if they always did this kinda thing. Before they did, but the past was a different place, a town they didn't occupy any more. Whether you thought that a tragedy (and Janis did think it that, too) or otherwise, it was what it was.* Grace: *This headfuck adds itself to the pile, leaving her again, clueless as to who the fuck she is. Grace had long been thinking it of her twin, before barista boy had moved in and got her shaken off from her sister totally, but it's pushed away whenever it enters her head and tries to shake up her own persona. No way and no time like. Until now that it had run out for her anyway. It doesn't matter what her mum said, over and over, she feels broken. And ashamed. And somehow, Janis knew that without knowing, offering her a pity hang to keep the vibe from leaving her alone. Obviously she could go off, hard, in the moment and get everyone else to leave her but what was the point if that's her only power? A pity party is the only one that'll be thrown for her these days, there's no choice but to cope with that. Later. After she's called Janis out in gestures and expressions that scream UGH and AS IF because too much has changed to let go of that. Even as she realises she's accepting, all 'thank god I showered and changed at the gym' crossing her mind and face.* Okay, Jan, no need to beg babes. *Grace fluffs her hair, smiling wide enough to hurt. Later too.* Gotta change my bag first like OMG, a dog that cute has just gotta come home with me. Unfair that your feed gets all of her when mine's the most poppin'. She's welcome. Janis: *Janis rolls her eyes but that action, so overused it went way beyond practiced into straight up muscle memory, was accompanied by a less usual smile. Small but conveying the too-big-and-awkward-to-mention idea that today, just this once, she would let shit slide. Still, it'd feel to alien for both if she let her twin get away with EVERYTHING, like. Sympathies SHOULD only stretch so far, otherwise who even were they?* Sure she'll be buzzin' for the fame, Grace. Just be quick about it, alright? I've already left 'em hanging long enough meself with the fecking phone dramas... *And the shower. And the actually taking longer than ten seconds to pick out somethin' decent to wear, somethin' he might like. Push that feeling down, along with the bile it caused. Don't think about it. Deal with it later. She busied herself in the kitchen, NOT like the proper little housewife the stupidity of giving a shit was mockingly making her feel, but by fishing out the promised leftovers for Twix, finding the sparklers, and chucking in some leftovers for the kids too, Holiday food still coming out their earholes here. Again she ignored the mocking voice from within, trying to be rational about it. It weren't like she gave a fuck like THAT, and not about Jim but if their dad was AWOL it was probably microwave meals and takeaway grub, the kiddos may as well have something decent to line their bellies, Lord knows her fam didn't need it. No sense wasting it. So there. Fuck you. Janis grabbed her house keys and chucked her new cropped hoodie over her outfit, untucking her curls and waiting by the door, foot tapping from impatience, nothing more, alright?* Grace: *Grace moves fast, not because she's feeling it herself but she knows Janis is and can't handle the fight, impatience so blatant to cause it that even without a twin connection that Jimmy would see it himself as quick. Her stomach twists painfully, the idea that no man will ever want her again resurfacing before it can be pushed back down. Her body flops down on her bed staying separate from her, face pressed into the tear-stained pillow until she has a reason for not being able to breathe. A small sound comes out, nothing else. The other girl will be charging up the stairs if she doesn't hurry so she forces herself up and does the switch, grabbing stuff she might need blindly. The 'who am I?' question throws itself out again but it's better than any Janis will ask otherwise. Grace reassures herself its her reasoning for no mirror check before walking away. * Janis: *The 'okay, let's do this' doesn't need to be vocalized (need or want? they're two very different beasts but let's both pretend we don't know otherwise), so it isn't. Quickly jostling out the door, matching pace on the short walk to the Grandparent's, like this was a two-step or a tango another dance that required two to- somehow keeping rhythm, keeping time, so well and so naturally between them it was like they'd never stopped being a double act. Now with Killer in tow, the truth that they had stopped being Graceandjanis, presented itself readily in the hugs and love she received and the awkward hellos and suspicious barks Grace did when they made their date. Janis couldn't very well push the kiddos away, no need to be that much of a cunt on anyone's behalf, her sister especially wouldn't thank her for it- but she converted Jim's into a one-arm handshake type hug affair; 'accidentally (who knew?) pushing her extended fist into his stomach with a 'whoops'. She withdrew, choosing to do what she knew how before anything else could be said or done or even thought.* Race ya to the swings! *It was a challenge for the entire group, fuck it, the dogs could get in on the action if they liked, just give a fucking distraction. Bobby hung back Grace too. Janis looked back, wondering if she should run back too, not leave her sister so soon but she found her legs continuing regardless, beyond her control. That was just how it was these days.* Grace: *She can breathe again, easily, of course she can, when they are walking side by side. Grace forgets until the park's in sight, reminding her hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. She blinks them away, refusing to be that girl, but the buggy's still there, being pushed in time with her own steps so close she can't help but remember how far away any of that is for her. Frantically she clutches her phone, acting out living a life where what the screen is showing her is something she cares deeply about knowing. The distraction can't last and doesn't. There they are, Jimmy and his brother, his sister keeping pace with a sniffing puppy, kicking her own toes against the ground. 'I feel you girl' she thinks, automatically despite having no idea what the girl's deal is and barely a grip on her own either. They all smile, waves and everything, but hers doesn't hurt now and won't tonight. None of this is real. She might as well not be here, that's not news anymore than Janis being gone again is, so why react to it? It's hard enough pretending to give them her usual vibes. The boy doesn't run when the rest do, sticking with her. What the fuck is she meant to do or say to that? She blinks again, breathing deep and he mirrors it. Too relatable. Horrible. If he starts sobbing she can't just stand there. No way. Janis would kill her. It'd look suss af even if she handled it well, a kid crying with nobody but her around to blame. Oh god. She can't do this. He's looking at her like she trod on his dog with her heels on, and hasn't stopped. Grace bends down to his level with another whispered 'hey, cutie', cussing herself for packing her bag on autopilot because she couldn't guarantee having anything he might like. At a loss she falls into old habits, asking him quietly if he wants to take a selfie. He shakes his head no first, until she pulls up all the best features her phone can offer, filters making him smile wider and wider as he skips through. He almost loses it when she makes herself into a singing dog emoji thing and insists loudly that she send it to his big sister's phone. She tells him to go ahead, all it takes to secure a friend for the afternoon apparently. Grace shakes her head, smiling without realizing it. He hasn't even found her games yet. Just you wait boy.* Jimmy: *It's been a headache getting them sorted, but the fresh air eventually clears it before it turns into more than a heaviness behind his eyes. Janis not having a phone, and the thought of him having to text Grace's more than once had him picking up the pace and the kids followed eagerly despite dragging their feet when he first told 'em to get a move on. Cass has no choice unless she was about Twix wrecking her Christmas trackies in all the excitement of her true love appearing and Bobby makes up his mind just as fast when he catches on too. The park or the cramped four walls of their living room, no contest, like. He was with them both there. #Buzzing he thinks with a smirk that's a grin until it's nothing. She pushes him away, forcing him to push himself to catch back up. He touches the chain of the swing just after she does, dogs at his heels, only moving aside so his sister can jump on (and off as soon probably, but go for it, Cass). No prizes for coming second. He looks over his shoulder for bobby, seeking him out, relaxing when he sees Grace with him. He's alright. Wish he could say the same, having lost.* Janis: *Janis took as much internal pleasure from the victory as she could get- not much, nothing if we're being real (we aren't). Empty as she felt, plenty of room, like; still, she found the silly little 'win' just as hollow. Still, could fake that that wasn't the case, throwing up loser signs as she raised her arms in 'triumph'. Being an arrogant cunt was a surefire way to keep people at a safe distance, that method beyond tried and tested now. 'Let's get this whole situation back to fakery, yeah?' Her every sane impulse urges, terror white hot, cornered animal scared, ready to lash out for her survival, (and his). 'Please, no. I'm not ready to stop this!' The part of her that burns with wanting him, loving- this, whatever 'this' was, begs, thick with need. Need was not allowed. Needing things just meant hurt and disappointment, every time. And Janis felt she had enough stacked already. Call her weak or a pussy for knowing she wasn't super-human, (not even human), for knowing her limits (Weak. Pussy.) Enough was enough, do what you do best already, and run; run so far ahead of him that all he's left with is your dust, not even memories, good or otherwise, to remember you by. Forget about it, kid. Ignoring Jim might be a task she was up for the challenge of but ignoring Twix proved near impossible, Janis patted the pup's head absent-mindedly, just to get her to calm down a bit, like. Working out what was wrong when she was met with manic sniffing, she dug around in her pockets and produced a bone. She tossed it lazily but it still flew a great distance through the air out into the open field. She then had the perfect excuse to casually follow after the running dog. So chill. So natural.* Jimmy: *He pushes Cass on the swing a few times, helping her get the speed up she needs to make the jump, but hard as he goes for it, it doesn't help. The only thing that's gonna is to sort out why Janis is being off with him. He asks himself first, thinking that since Grace was being uncharacteristically quiet too that was the answer. Being mad that Gracie has invited herself to tag along made sense but taking it out on him was a dickhead move like. Shrugging to convince any watching sisters that he didn't give a shit, he jogs over to where the two of them are, bending to annoy Twix 'cause that'll get to her most.* Gracie coming too town too? I see how it is, getting coffee when she knows her real faves on shift. None taken.* It's bollocks but going off for a smoke'll go down like a lead balloon with Bobby when he notices which means Cass getting pissed off at him when Janis already is. Instead he nods over to where his little brother is, still beside Grace. *We should get in on that, bet our selfie game's well stronger and you'd make a gorgeous bunny mate it has to be said. Janis: *Janis nudges him away from Twix as if the daft thing were hers and not at least part his, making a 'leave off' sound too.* Don't blame me if she goes for your ankles, like. I didn't teach her how to do that or nowt but you know, s'a bitch's prerogative. *She nods, not looking at him, eyes kept on the horizon, as if he were a stranger she was having a meaningless chat to about the weather whilst keeping an eye out for the bus still.* Yeah. Anything to get out the house though, init. *Said as if Grace was driving her as mad as two hyper kids, which usually wouldn't be a lie but currently her sister had about as much life in her as the Christmas tree they'd just chucked. She did her best to ignore the joke about the other baristas, 'cos at the end of the day it was one, it just didn't feel like it when her twin was in such a way. But even Janis couldn't pin that on the boy stood with her now, she had enough pride to not appear entirely irrational, like. She could, however, lower herself to an eye-roll at the equally as jokey suggestion.* Nah. Bobby's cuter. Besides, I'm so fucking sick of selfies. Jimmy: *He shakes his head exaggeratedly, smirking.* No chance. She's soft as. Lot of that going about.* Jimmy nudges Janis playfully. *Like trainer, like dog, don't they say? *Anything to get a reaction out of her that isn't this. 'Cause fucking hell he doesn't get it. They'd had a good day before, only better if he'd beat her at paintball too, and a decent night despite the actually mad amount of family she had for him to meet. This morning she'd been alright with him. Their normal. Until now. What the fuck had gone wrong? Panic makes his palms slick and he uses her nan's husky as means to destroy the evidence before she twigs it to be, patting the dog's head affectionately.* This one on the other hand, #savage. Twix, get taking those notes, hun. *He laughs, hating what it sounds like when it lands, but preserving. Why the fuck not. Might as well go one further he thinks, and does, acting like he'd been shot down by what's actually true as he raises his hands to demand a ceasefire before making a show of putting the phone away and patting his pocket. * You'll change your tune once that new model's in your hand. Janis: Fuck off! *She says, indignant, voice raised. Couldn't even help it, correct button pressed; well done, mate. Nail on head, the ease in which he could do it sickening, a punch in the guts. A warning sign. No, it wasn't. She just got angry, she was an angry person, that was all, nothing more to it. Now calm down. Calm the fuck down before you embarrass yourself further. 1 2 3- Fuck it. Janis snorts, again words out before she can help it. Before she can censor the shit he doesn't need to know. The shit she doesn't talk about. Ever. With anyone.* Yeah well, that's what happens when you're not raised- *Stopping herself before its too late, 'cos nope not going there, not today, not with him. She let him distract the both of them with his amateur dramatics, looking him up and down skeptically.* Not too late to join the drama club, you know. You need an outlet, mate. About as much as I need the newest iPhone and all its megapixels, like. *She does her own mime act, clicking an invisible camera at him.* Grace: *They are playing some brightly coloured tapping game together when his shyness of her wears off. The questions are easy at first, listing off the cats names as far back as she can remember when she tells him regretfully about not having a dog, counting on her fingers and using his when they run out. They are both laughing at the end of it and she continues after hearing his mum was allergic to dogs so they couldn't get Twix 'til she went. Way to own and finalise that separation Mr Taylor, Grace thinks. Such a mood. Janis would 100% approve. She looks over at her sister but her gaze won't linger long enough to be felt. Not now. It just can't. She can't go there. She asks him more about her, this mum who he insists is 'far away', letting him talk. He deserves to say anything he wants, in whatever sense her absence means to him. None of her family do and look at them all. There's a huge part of her desperate to join in, just have the words 'my sister Edie is gone too' come out, but she can't go there either. It isn't right. Not when she means dead and this kid is what, like 5? If her twin's ever shared that info with her she can't find it in the moment, like it matters. She's not gonna offload that on him. No way. Better to keep smiling and encouraging, at least he's thriving off it.* Jimmy: Calm it down! *His own tone stays playful, matching the smirk he doesn't dare to drop. Fuck him for forgetting his shades the one time he needs them for something that isn't posing, if anything in his face gives him away to her they aren't gonna make it to town, making him a peak dickhead. He nods at the next bit, letting her know how 'so relatable he finds it, like' as he looks over at Cass and Bobby both, wearing the 'don't I know it' on his face wearily. Joke's over there. Call it a raw nerve, or too much truth to shrug through.* Yeah. *Before his weariness can piss them both off he takes the out his given to keep this banter jokey. Hip Hip Hooray!* Countin' on it. Shame you've missed the deadline for being one of us art pricks. You'll always have the 'gram though. #blessed. Janis: *'Great' Janis thinks to herself, sinking further into the regret consuming her every thought and action today as she realizes, (or at least presumes), he picked up on the dead sister vibes and now feels awkward as arse. Well done, dickhead. It wasn't as if she could plead ignorance, four years gone had taught them all that other people were crap with dealing with the death conversation. No one wanted the reminder. Least of all them, to be honest. Had to seep into everything, didn't she? Never any good at staying gone. Fuck you, Edie. Janis swallowed following his gaze to Cass and Bobby, taking the time to check up on her sibling too. Nothing, she tells herself, she feels nothing. Fuck them all. Its the blisteringly cold wind making her eyes water, that's all. She grunts in response, hardly worth it but it was all she had to give, not sorry about it. Sorry. She walks on in silence, throwing things for the dogs, shouting out commands, doing her best to disguise the cracks in her voice as a sore throat and nowt else. In the spirit of throwing a bone, she attempts to say something real, give him anything to work with. Purely 'cos this was boring, like. If they were gonna be wasting their afternoon regardless, yeah?* Let's play a game. You have to answer every question truthfully and straight away, like, if you don't you lose your chance to ask a question back. Meaning I get to go again or you pussy-out fully and call game over then you lose. Got it? I'll even let you go first, gracious victor that I am. Jimmy: *He doesn't know what to do when he sees it in her eyes any more than when he does in his sister's. The fight. He knows what he wants to do, every damn time, but he knows what it'll earn him from Janis. Same as Cass near enough. A smack or a strop off. He's had plenty of the first, naturally, but the second has him frozen in place. He sees it in his head, Janis stepping back as he moves forward and can't bear the maybe like. He breathes out hard, forcing it until he coughs. By the time he has his shit together, it's done. Chance missed for him to go for asking 'why are you being so off with me?' Thank fuck, 'cause honestly he knows the answer, doesn't he? She's fed up now they aren't faking it. He shouldn't hold blame, state of him, but it's there. For himself mostly, thinking she'd be any different. Nobody stays. Give her a few years and Cass'd be off to, looking for better. Bobby after some more. Still, he trails along, trying to be wrong. Needing to be. He feels it when he kisses her, more than his desperation, and if it exists, he can keep on to it. So he gets a grip now, sorts himself enough to be properly back next to her. Grins when he is, 'cause there it is. A new chance. Fucking hell. Jimmy nods. * Yeah okay. *He catches her eye, challenging her to back down already but bricking it that she might. What would he do then? He nudges her, the contact meaning more to him than the casual gesture lets anyone else know. He tries, ready to lose if needs be. * What's up with you then? Janis: *Janis resists the urge to pull a face, an 'of all the questions' kind of look, 'cos obviously that's the entire point of the game and she was the one who started it so- man up, like. She opts for the classic 'is that it?' look instead, faking out on her answer not being an option (she wouldn't do that to him) but she could at least front some bravado before answering truthfully. She leaned into his nudge as if to prove to herself otherwise as she said-* I'm scared. *A shrug, again, as if to counteract her words. She also fought the urge to ask what was wrong with him too, settling on an easier question, but one she'd still care to know the answer to.* How many girls have you slept with? Jimmy: *There's so many questions that come to mind when she gives her answer but it isn't his turn and honestly, if it was, he's scared too. More than a bit. Probably more than she is, truthfully. 'Cause the feeling is too strong to be alone in, he's about to let her know she isn't, by reaching for her hand and squeezing but there's no time for that. She takes her go, digging at him less than expected. Jim hides his surprise with a snort, shaking his head. 'What are you like?' that gesture implies, but he's bothered more about the state of himself, hiding behind all this bollocks again. He returns the shrug she gave him, easy as. She already knows about Skerries. There's no mystery despite what they all seemed to believe when he arrived as a newbie * 2. I had a girlfriend at home before. Ages go. * He shoots her a look, hopefully unreadable.* That scare you more or less? Janis: *She nods. Honestly, pleased, just a hint of a smile gracing her face. Yeah, yeah, yeah that shit shouldn't matter and it didn't, like; when you were on level-pegging, her bitterness told her, even if Jim's number was low, hers was always gonna be lower, wasn't it? Still, there was only one honest answer to his question. Didn't even compare, like.* Less. *Janis was tempted to ask him why he was wasting questions but she would be doing the same in-turn so, nah. She let herself think for slightly longer than last time, working out how best to play this. Interesting enough to keep him playing but not coming out with the real scary shit 'cos that'd have him quitting even faster if she went there with no warming him up, like.* Why'd you not wait to find a real girlfriend here? Jimmy: *He laughs, it's her directness that does it. Yeah that's the point of the game but she's there shamelessly #buzzing by his 'revelation.' It's the first time he's done something right since they got here and he can't help smiling himself. Finally not a smirk. Cheers, mate. He stops himself shrugging yet again, in case that feels like a step back, though for real, he could care less about this question. He'd never lied about his lack of interest or any of that. Still wasn't. * I didn't want one. *Until he did. And here they are. Scary shit. It's better to focus on the game, something he can ask while still playing safe enough to keep going. What then? Come on, dickhead. There's a part of him, also from ages ago apparently, that wants to blurt out something about that cunt Harry she kept kissing, the jealousy existing, making him feel shitty. Reminding him he is, like. His smile fades. Can't keep anything, can he? *Why me when you could've just told your haters about other school Harry and left it at that? He loved boasting about the two of you, he'd have been enough. Janis: *Janis stuck her middle finger up but she joined in the laughter all the same, 'cos not would give her away more than she already had and she couldn't have that. Just let him think she was a jealous girl or whatever had him cracking up. 'Cos surely she hadn't let him close enough that he could actually know what was up, had she? She considered his answer as she stressed over her own. Guess he hadn't...But why now? What had changed? Was they really still just mates, but with benefits, like? Was that all he waiting for? Oh wait, stupid bitch, YOU have to answer first. And that is way more than your allotted one question per turn. And just much too much in general. Calm it. And answer before you look any weirder.* 'Cos he weren't my boyfriend. Ever. Anyone can get a lad like that to get off with them, didn't really prove anything. Besides, I wanted to help you, like. I dunna why. Sue me. *She pokes her tongue out, turning to face him, walking backward as she asks her next. Changing tact, 'cos she's not sure if she can actually handle knowing the answers to all the questions she'd posed in her head.* Do you really hate it here? Jimmy: *It doesn't seem like she's gonna answer at first, but instead of feeling good about another victory to his name, it just lets in all the shit waiting there in his own head to fill in the blanks. He's heard and told a load to piss off before she gives hers. It's nowt he didn't proper know by himself but there's comfort in how she says 'ever' as a fuck you. Fuck off Harry you prick. The feeling only builds when she gets walking like that, reminding him of Jaden's party. He'd never wanted to stop kissing her that night. Still didn't. Same finality. 'Cause yeah, right now he didn't ever. There it was. So when he shakes his head it's no pisstake. Banter's the furthest thing from the gesture and he let's his face show it. Just for now, like. * Nah, I hate that them two do, but not me. *He looks over at his siblings, Bobbin's taken Cass' place on the swings now but she's stayed nearby, phone out, snapping him. Do it for the 'gram, he can't help thinking, an affectionate smile lingering as he looks back at his girlfriend. *You? Wish you'd kept running when you did one from school and me like? Janis: *Back to nodding again, following the direction of his gaze and topic of conversation, 'cos she gets it. Without second-guessing and stopping herself with 'well their situation is probably worse' type of thoughts, she just lets it come out. The first thing she's ever said to him about Edie. The first time she's spoken about her in a long time, except to tell Grace she's glad she's dead, and that she wished she were too, of course. Standard.* We haven't always lived here, either...Lived lots of places for Mum's job and just 'cos. Ireland was barely Home for the older lot; when we came back my sister Edie hated it so fucking much. Not exciting enough, I guess. Or she liked people not knowing us the rest of the places, unlike here... *She trails off red-faced. Shrugging for cover as always.* What I mean is, probably the exact opposite for them two. Not enough people know 'em. We could change that. Introduce them to the unwashed mass of my lot. They will get more comfortable, you know... *Again the trail-off 'cos why the fuck was she offering up useless platitudes like he was a total idiot? Jesus. Distract with your answer time, bitch. As if that would diffuse the tension any. HA.* Kind of...but nah, not really, 'cos its just the people and their talk and the good and bad memories and all the ghosts, init? No matter the destination, all that shit follows so- It ain't really Dublin's fault. Just nice to take a break sometimes. *She smiles, hoping it'll just be taken as a reference to always having Skerries or some shit, and not the fact that being with him felt like a break, wherever they were. Don't need to scare him off THAT hard. And not yet. Fuck a good decision. For now.* What about you, why'd your Da move yous here? Jimmy: *It's his turn to nod dumbly then, 'cause he gets it, Edie's (supposed) feeling. It's what he likes best about this city, that even when his (supposed) new boy shine wears off, there's still much none of them know about him. Won't. He can breathe here for that, a bit, and does until he's reminded of the limits by Janis says after. She isn't wrong. Here he isn't the lad whose mum vanished, but he still is. Always will be, unless she does some magic fucking reappearing act, and how likely is that? It isn't doable, he tells himself so every damn night and for good reason. But Janis isn't wrong about what Cass and Bob need either. It isn't fair for him to keep them shut in this tight circle knowing that they can't keep their mouths shut. Why should they? They're just kids and its their normal, bound to feel like the kind of shit chatted about over the school lunch table. His hands shove themselves deep in his pockets not knowing what else to do. He wants a smoke bad but isn't far enough away from the park yet. Won't get to be. This is why they're here like. Shit. * Yeah. *It's all he has to say, barely able to look at her as is. Lifting his head back to her level is a bigger challenge than he can rise to now. Loser. Fuck. More than anything else he wants to ask her for a break, demand it, but he can't. Janis hit right on how there's no escaping this. He sighs, pulling his hood up. If she thinks he's only keeping the cold out then he'll take that, if not, he'll handle it when. Fuck it. There's only so much trying Jimmy can do today. * He got fired. Wanted a fresh start then.* He shrugs. All true. He doesn't believe if lying by omission or any of that bollocks. She didn't ask why he was sacked. Why a fresh start had to be so drastic. Those are other questions, ones he's not about to answer come to that.* We goin' down town or what? Janis: *That was it. Game over. Before she even had tie to register his answer he was sick of giving it. His hood and guard back up. Sighing with it too. Oh, how Janis wished it made HER mad. What she wouldn't give to feel that familiar friend close to her right now, to take comfort in its arms when he was shutting her out. But of course not, of course fucking not. Couldn't even have that, could she? All she felt was desperation, desperate to be let back in, to know what she did wrong so she could avoid doing it again, and it made her feel fucking sick. At least the nausea gave her valid reason to spit on the ground.* Can't be bothered now, don't matter, you lot still go if you wanna. *She fumbled in her hoodie pocket for Killer's lead, whistling him over so she could get the fuck out of here, NOW. Of course, Twix came bounding and the oblivious husky didn't. Great.* Good girl, Twix... *She mumbled, giving her some love and a treat, wishing the ground could swallow her whole.* Jimmy: *He starts walking back toward the swings, knowing it'll take ages to get both of them ready to go, longer than Janis is gonna stick around for definitely. Jimmy keeps his gaze there, Twix'll move when Cass does and there and then, if she didn't he didn't give a shit. There's no room for it. He's only filled up with how badly he's fucked this when the answer comes and a question won't follow. His sister starts mouthing off when he makes it clear they're off home but a look sorts it. Gotta leave before he's left, sorry. Cass gets Bobby and Twix with her, which should make him feel worse but there's no room for that either. Not yet. One for later like. The two them say their goodbyes, Bobby gives hugs to both twins. He doesn't. Can't if it's the last. There's nowt to do but this.* Probs text you, Gracie. *He's aiming for a joke, without waiting for it to land. Any answers. It's too much, being fake again. Especially like this.* Janis: *Even though she's the one who said it, AND she was the one who started to pack up first, when he just walks away, without so much as a glance back, nevermind a goodbye, it's like a punch in the face. (Don't you know by now I don't mean it? Dickhead)* Oi! *She pushes past him, letting the shout sail over his head like it wasn't even a little bit aimed at him, rushing up to Cass to give her the bag of goodies she'd foraged.* Enjoy, yeah? *Saying her Goodbyes to both kid's as if her and Jim already had, nothing to see here. Janis grits her teeth, poor excuse for a good-humored smile to match his worse attempt at a joke. Have her, if that's what you really want, just cut me off 'cos I can't keep hanging on your every word, Jimmy Taylor. She says nothing, figuring she can let her twin, like she used to. Feeling that unnecessary and unwanted again.* Grace: *Grace has no idea what's happening, beyond the obvious. The tragic. She was in her own world until Jimmy came through, a world where she could deal with being around these kids 'cause they're older and Cass reminds her of Gus which hurts, but in the old way, one she's learned to cope with. This new pain is too new to try and deal. It takes everything not to cry when she hears a newborn doing that. She's hates it, being back to being this lost, a hopeless saddo again, so obviously latches onto the tension surrounding her twin and the barista. She can't fix it, can't even really put her finger on the vibe, but it's enough that it isn't hers. A distraction she can sit in. Drama that can never be as deep as the one her body's done on her.* Oh, you're going. Cool. Laters then, babes. Hope I'll see you around, cutie. * She smiles wide at Bobby, a better fake than Janis can ever be. *No offense, Jimmy.* The laugh sounds real. Only the kids give her something back, but it's for them she does it, not wanting what her sister is gonna dish out in this mood. And if looks could kill, the boyfriend's could have them all in the ground. No fucking thanks. Off you go, boy, bye.* Jimmy: *He waves both twins off as if they're on equal footing suddenly like. Funny fucker he is. Even more of a twat. He keeps going, lighting up as he does, every word Cass might say about it blocked out before it gets out. Enough. It's this or worse, sorry. The kids start bickering as they round the corner, taking out the bullshit he'd started and let seep out on each other when they can't reach him. Jimmy feels like handling it like he's younger than Bobby's age, throwing himself to the floor and sobbing for a bit. There's no getting rid that easily though. Not for him. Janis was the lucky one there. Shame she didn't feel it, but it was too late for him to do anything about that. She wasn't even in sight anymore. Fuck knows when she next would be. He couldn't think of school starting when tomorrow was too far. Too much. He rubs his eyes, ready to call it tiredness but nobody was there to issue a challenge. Fuck.* Janis: *Janis turns on her heel, without acknowledging him again (not hard when all she can think to do is knock him out or beg at his feet, neither of those an option she could live with), but its cheapened by the fact he did it first, and meant it. She prays the walk Home can be as shrouded in sweet silence as the walk here was. For her sake this time. But as they walk on, further and further away from him, she starts to wish Grace would say something, ANYTHING! She needed the distraction from her own thoughts, the ones that had got her in this mess in the fucking first place! Differences aside, even her twin was better company.* Did you wanna go up-town, like? We still can... *She shrugs. What else does she have to say or offer right now?* Grace: *The walk back doesn't feel anything like the one going, they are in step, yeah, but it means nothing 'cause they're both so in their own 'drama'. She nearly tells her sister, at least part of it, as an excuse for why she's being this 'ugh' (none of these stupid, basic words fit, but they are what she automatically reaches for), feeling she owes her that, knowing Janis would be down for her being a bitch over giving her nothing to kick back against. None of the words will come out though. Of course. Only more of her usual kinda convo stuff will. She's that bitch now. Shadowing her former self. God, it's even more pathetic than anything she'd tried to pull on her twin. But it fits, and she flips her hair, turning to the other with a smile which doesn't come as easy but she forces herself to wear anyway. *Well, girl, you still need a phone. Even if just to tell him to fuck off when he tries blowing mine up. Janis: *She's looking down at their feet; looking anywhere else, a risk. She nods, allowing a small 'true' chuckle to follow too. Janis raises her head, straightening her back and standing up taller. She groans as she cracks her bones and stretches out her arms and legs like she's warming up for something. Too little too late, perhaps? God damn.* Fuck this shit, Gracie. Fuck.This.Shit. *She doesn't even know fully what her sister's shit is yet but she feels confident in sending it to Hell with her own.* What are we gonna do, eh? Grace: *She whispers it herself, 'fuck it' so soft, but so 'fire'. (Another word than couldn't touch how things were) It felt good to have it out of her. More than that, feeling connected to her twin again (bad as she felt for thinking it under these conditions, god she was such a bitch.) was even better. A more genuine smile is offered up while she thinks of what she can say, tapping her nails against denim. *We're going to town, sister, and owning the rest of this day. New phone, new clothes, whatever we want. Fuck it. Janis: *Janis smiles back, as genuine.* Fuck it. Let's do this.

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peppurthehotone · 5 years

Text

I was chatting with my friend yesterday and when she said she felt nauseous and tired for no reason, I knew we were suffering from the same thing, a natural disaster I call “Hormone Rita.”

(No time to read? Watch “Beware of Hormone Rita” on YouTube)

Because I’ve been tracking my cycle each month, which is basically me studying my womanly health as though I were a first-year med student, I started to notice a curious pattern. I noticed that while happy on the outside, I was having this “Something Wicked This Way Come” experience at the same time each month. And this wicked experience wasn’t “cute” like any of those commercials that have the gray depression bubble hovering over the woman like some cartoon cloud to be blown away by a cartoonish Zeus.

It was worse than that. In some ways, I feel like another person moves in and inhabits my body. Someone we’ll call Rita. She charges in, cigarette in hand and kicks me out with a hefty shove and I’m left sort of caged in a corner of my body while she lives in me as she pleases.

And she’s not very pleasing.

I know what it means to not be happy. A few years ago, when I was genuinely feeling scared about my direction in life, or worried about what was going to happen to me, or felt like everything sucked, I knew I was unhappy. That is an identifiable feeling and when friends would say, “snap out of it” I sort of could because at the root of it, I knew I was feeling sorry for myself or that I was scared and I could work to change my mood and mindset to something more positive, even if just for happy hour.

Today in this time in my life, I don’t have that unhappiness. I’m actually quite happy. But what’s happening is that Rita is taking over. Who is Rita really? Hormones. Shitty, crappy, powerful, illusive, invisible hormones.

To me, Hormone Rita is more than PMS. She’s stronger than those flimsy three days PMS Susan likes to occupy. Hormone Rita is an ass-kickin’ bad ass.

For those that don’t know, the process of being womanly occurs over a 28-30 day cycle. Roughly. Each woman is different. Day 1 begins when the blood moon rises. So, you start counting on that day for the next 28-30 days watching and waiting for who-the-hell knows what’s next. If you’re TTC, you’re watching for Ovulation from perhaps Day 11/12 on and then you’re watching for any signs of pregnancy until blood moon arrives around days 28-30. So, for almost three weeks, you’re watching yourself and the things that are coming out of it like a first-year med student. For those that are not TTC and just living life waiting for blood moon, and wondering if you’re going crazy, you too may be watching your body and all that comes out of it like a first-year med student.

On Day 15, I feel it coming. The sickness. I starts in my shoulders. The slightest irritation from any source makes my shoulders twitch, like a drug fiend. It’s then that I find my strap to brace myself. This isn’t a strap for a roller coaster ride, friends. Because roller coasters can be fun. This is not. I put the leather strap between my teeth and bite down. Ready for what’s to come.

If I’m lucky that month, Days 18-21 are “manageable”. I’m still being spit on by Rita, but I can function and I fight back with exercise (good) and alcohol (not-so-good). BUT. The big kahuna is still to come. Day 25-26. It’s looming in the near distance. I bite down and pray.

In med student talk, what’s potentially happening is that progesterone is running amok through my body while Rita is on the couch watching Netflix and eatin’ up all the Pringles. Too much or usually, too little progesterone, causes a twerk in your hormones. You become unbalanced. That dip brings on the need for the leather strap around Day 15 and ….and then, for some reason, there’s another big twerky explosion — either progesterone or estrogen — that happens on Day 25. Doomsday.

This past holiday season, Day 25 fell right before Christmas. Sweet baby Jesus.

Matt would Face Time me from his parent’s home in Florida, where he was for the holiday, and I’d be balled up on the couch. Too far gone to even pretend I was fine while he was gone. Rita was raging. I made it to none of my friend’s Christmas parties. Cheer was not on the agenda.

One morning while he was gone, I laid in bed and literally woke up crying. Who WAKES UP crying? The tears were there just waiting for my eyes to open and to really run free. I pulled the dog near, (’cause she sleeps on the bed) wanting her to lick my pain away, and she didn’t get it; she just wanted to go out for a walk. (My cat Iris would get it. #dogsaredifferent). I was turning in the bed, sobbing so deeply from pain I couldn’t identify. I took a role call. Lack of pregnancy? Being alone? Overall general ennui (or “NYU” as Nicole and I call it)? I wanted something inside me to raise it’s hand and say, “It’s me!” You’re sad because it’s me. Only, nothing was really the cause. Which made it worse. Like really worse. I cried for a long time and I felt myself spiraling into a place that was scary. I thought about what it would take to just make this feeling stop. To make it go away and leave me alone. I thought about the things that end life. I’ve done this before. And what makes me stop thinking about the things that end life is thinking about my family and Matt and how much pain THEY would be in if I ended my (temporary) pain.

I think about how many women reach this point during a moment in their month. And how they may not be able to attribute this sadness to “merely” hormones and not something much worse, like a depression that can be diagnosed. Does this make sense? I’m not a doctor. I don’t know the difference or the name of hormone-induced depression versus depression-depression. In my head, I just feel that there is a difference because once Hormone Rita shifts, and takes a break for a few weeks to creep to her reclusive corner of my body to feast up for the next go-round, I’m fine.

I’m writing this so that if you’re that woman who’s feeling so bad for seemingly no reason, these words here might turn on a light bulb that gives you a reason. And then you can tell your loved ones, whomever they may be, that you’re going through this. I’ve told my parents, I told my sister-in-law after she asked me if I hated her and I told Matt. One month when Hormone Rita crept in, much like the grim reaper that time, I came out of the bathroom and folded into his arms and sobbed, “I can’t stop crying!” He said, “What do you need?” I’d said I didn’t know, just to get me out of the house.

Now, whenever this happens, we have a code word. It’s Benihana. Why? I’ll tell you why.

That day I couldn’t stop crying, we hopped in the car and drove around the Valley. I discovered I was hungry. We found a Benihana restaurant. Of all places. We went in. The place was a madhouse. This was actually a gift because the chaos was incredibly distracting! I’d always known Benihana to be a quiet, sort of upscale place and it has turned into Red Lobster/Disneyland/McDonald’s during the 6 o’clock rush. Who knew? We sat with a group of women who had driven down from somewhere a few hours north of LA. (One of those distant towns where you nod your head, “Yesss, I’ve heard of that place,” when really you haven’t.) Turned out it was a birthday tradition for them to come to the Big B each year. Apparently, Benihana has a great birthday special these days guys, and this became painfully and joyfully apparent after multiple explosions on “Happy Birthday” popped off table after table.

The woman I sat next to was on the thin side; her hair jet black and long, made me think of a 20-year old, modern-day Morticia Addams. She was covered in tattoos. She was dressed for dinner in that way that some folks iron their khaki chino pants, brush their Timbs and are rea’ty go. Next to her was a young girl, I think she was ten. Next to her was another woman. She was heftier in stature, and draped her arms over the little girl’s chair. She, too had the jet black hair and was ready for dinner via bright purple eye shadow and thin penciled eyebrows. She may have had a piercing; I don’t remember. As dinner went on, I realized these two ladies were a couple; mommas to the little girl and I think my tattoo friend was new to the relationship and was finding her way in the family. We all know how that can go. Across from me sat the mom of this family. She had a bright, yet tired smile, and seemed to have lived in a different part of town than her daughter(s); something closer to The Beavers, perhaps.

As we waited for our chef to make that first sizzled flip of shrimp, I noticed they were interestingly quiet as though there’d been a bit of a disagreement in the car that leads to edgy silence once in public. You know what that means, “The Peppur Show” comes ON! I interviewed, I encouraged, I inspired. With Matt as my co-host, soon we were chatting and laughing and carrying on together.

While we all seriously couldn’t have been more different, me in my frazzled vintage and Matt in his Chicago daily wear, we had the best time. We stuffed our faces and toasted to their birthdays and found our common ground as you do when you open up around the Benihana grill. And all was right with world. Rita was silenced.

After that, when Day 25 rolls around and Matt begins to see the struggle seizing me, he only has to say, “…Benihana?” His eyebrows lift behind his round spectacles, hopeful that my time in this month is what’s causing me to not look like the woman he likes to love. He doesn’t do this in a condescending way or as a weak offering of an olive branch…It is sincere. Sometimes I bite his head off; because Rita will take it as condescending. But if I get to speak in my voice, I whisper, “Thanks honey, it’s okay.” And off I’ll go back to the glow of my laptop, or to the bed, or I’ll return to what I was doing when he asked with hopes I’ll remember what that was and not be left staring at the hopeless abyss of the closet, clueless.

While Matt was gone in Florida, I pulled myself from the couch and got into a manic panic of Google searching and determined I needed help. And not help from those drugs advertised on TV. I wanted holistic stuff. I’d done a lot of this research before, because balanced hormones is needed for getting a bun in the oven. I scribbled a list of things I knew would cure me. I walked into a modern-day apothecary in Studio City. I grabbed Maca Root. To help balance me out. I don’t like asking for help, but I forced myself to go to the counter and ask the ladies their opinion of Maca. The internet had a lot to say about it, pros and cons. They weren’t sure about Maca. (That made Rita mad; “Then why the hell are selling it?!?”) The pharmacist, in her white coat, asked, “Have you been to a doctor to get an actual diagnosis?”

I said, “No,” knowing it was time. I know my hormones need serious balancing. Rita said, “Get outta here with that bullshit. Really lady? Pffft” and flicked an ash at her as we paid the $21.00 for the pills and left.

I write you from Day 22. I hope to be-goodness that I make it through this month. The Maca root sits unopened in the bag it was sold in. I’m afraid of it because some say it can make matters worse. I did try the Dandelion tea and Red Raspberry Leaf tea I bought that day and I think they’re working; I don’t feel sooooo edgy. Nonetheless, wish me luck and I’ll do the same for you. And, for reals, like exercise, when I write I feel so much better. If you’re also struggling with this, find your pen.

Maybe she does get it. 🙂

Beware of Hormone Rita. I was chatting with my friend yesterday and when she said she felt nauseous and tired for no reason, I knew we were suffering from the same thing, a natural disaster I call "Hormone Rita."

#dandelion tea for hormones #depression #hormones #maca root #red raspberry leaf tea #ttc

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