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casuallivi · 1 year

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The Midnight Kiss

from a thoughtful elriel piece, to this silly fest. Me in a nutshell. sorry guys, I could not find a movie reference for this one nailing the date pace killed me, I wanted to be organic, but not boring, but comical, but not too much, and here comes cass/mor screams into the void so here's a pretty pic of breadticks 😬

Enjoy. Comments are welcomed and cherished :)

Part 5: Not the girl you are used to

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Do you honestly believe you can trick me into saying yes?”

Cassian grinned like an idiot, thumb swiftly skating on his phone keyboard, texting God knows who. “You used to fall for that.”

One would think he wasn’t so interest in the conversation, but Azriel knew his brother, could read the tension on his unstoppable tapping feet, the nervous twirl of the watch on his wrist, the childish attempt to beat him by exhaustion. Azriel ignored him. Cass could try all he wanted, but he was not agreeing to this insanity.

Tablet perched on his knee, he continued to work through a selection of garment choices for the winner of the Revelation Designer Award to choose from.

You see, Azriel didn’t believe in unpredictable events, because that would mean he wasn’t prepared for the “incident” happening, and Azriel was always prepared. In order to be ready, he spent a copious amount of time building back-up plans, which had proven to came in had along the years. His, wasn’t the least stressful way of managing a department, but sure was an efficient one. Needless to say he had nearly to none free time. Cassian, on the other hand, seemed to have a lot to spare, deciding to dedicate a part of his day into trying to annoy Azriel to submission.

Azriel had no interested in satisfying his brother’s current itch. A cunning, blond haired itch, who he also had no intention of getting involved with anymore. That’s why he was using this meaningless reunion - more of a one-on-one with his brother - to look through the strongest candidates’ portfolios, selecting D-Day outfits.

“Come one man, you are not thinking this straight. She’s the hottest model these days, runway elite.” Cassian moved forward, pushing a video of Morrigan in Azriel’s face, braving her latest runway in goddamn lacy red lingerie. Her color. Nope, do not go there. “She’ll be a good addition to our catalog.”

Azriel averted his eyes, crossing a giant ‘X’ in the current dress with a little more strength than necessary, the pen scratching the glass. Nope. He’d not be looking either.

“Hiring her for a sporadic shoot is doable, signing an exclusivity contract is dumb, a waste of money. She’s a runaway model, we’d have to compensate her that, pay her contract breaching, pay her even when she’s not working. You are the money man Cass, you know is not worth it.”

“She’s so fucking hot, tho. Trust me when I say she’ll raise our sales. Who wouldn’t want to see a hot girl getting delivery to their home monthly? Hell, I’d sign our magazine.”

"You don't sign our magazine?"

"Why would I sign our magazine?"

Azriel rubbed his forehead, the familiar pressure of a stress-induced headache making itself know.

That’s why his brother managed the money, not the people. The only people he got involved with, were the ones with an ass he was interested in tapping. And that is why he was pushing Azriel to sign an exclusivity contract with Morringan, as if they were a fucking model agency. Cassian might have the CEO position, but thankfully their grandfather left them the same amount of shares. Over his dead body he’d bring Morrigan closer.

“Marinos isn’t about hotness. We are a fashion magazine, Cass. A collection doesn’t sell itself simply by being clothes, is all about how we display them, the ambience, the models. It’s an art of luring the public into seeing themselves in the pages. We have to be diverse, keep it fresh.

“She is fresh!” Cassian argued, leaving his phone on the small table between them, tapping aggressively on the screen, the video rolling. “Look at her. She approaching that milf zone which makes her extra bangable to horny teens.” He held his hands up, palms flat in the air, making the universal sign of a balance. “They enhance their spank bank; we double our sales. It’s a win-win.”

Azriel slapped his brother’s phone face down, his disdain palpable. How Cass could address to someone, who he claimed to be in a serious relationship with, in such a way, was beyond him.

“You are disgusting. And she doesn’t have kids.”

Cassian laughed. “You don’t need kids to be a milf, baby bro,” he enunciated the words as if Azriel was slow. “You only need to be past a women’s prime, which we all know is in her twenties, and still be freakishly hot. Have you seen Mor? Check and check. We like to pretend they are a hot mom without the burden of a bastard running around.” Cassian winked, taking his phone. “Besides, Mor won’t be working much longer. I counting on you to help me make her retirement transition easier.”

Azriel stiffed on his chair.

Morrigan was doing what?

Bubbling laughter erupted from him, tears sliding down the corners of his eyes. Cassian stared at him as if he was insane. My god, he didn't laugh like this in ages. Morrigan would never retire, she loved her job more than life itself. That girl would probably die in a runway, her stone-cold heart finishing its complete transition into a block of ice.

"Are you having a stroke?" Cassin asked, confused.

“Did she tell you that? Did she say she was retiring?”

“She doesn’t have to tell everything, baby bro. Her man knowns.” Her man thought he leashed the untamable Morrigan. Her man knew shit. “She’s turning 34 soon,” Azriel knew that already, they were the same age, “it’s time.”

"Time for what?"

"For her retirement."

“You are so full of shit. Morrigan won't retire, she loves her job.” It’s the only thing she loves. “She won’t quit. She’ll never quit.”

Cassian slouched on the chair, spreading his legs to assert dominance.

“You are full of opinions about Mor today.”

“We were childhood friends. I believe I can judge her inability to drop her career for a man.”

The brothers have met Morrigan when they first moved to America to live with their grandparents. Their grandma quickly pairing Mor and Azriel in the same classes and extracurricular activities. Cassian was around too, but didn’t had much interest for the younger girl in pigtails running around with his brother. She sure had his attention now, wheater she liked it or not.

“Trust me, Mor is settling down. She has a man now, a provider, no need to tire herself crossing the globe all year long. Don’t give me that face. I’m telling you how man thinks.”

“I am a man.” Azriel stressed.

“You are, aren’t you. For a second there I had my doubts.” Cassian mused, remembering how he caught his brother getting cozy with Elain inside the elevator, their ride from hell…

Cassian scratched his stubble, contemplating the recent changes in Azriel's behavior.

His stoic brother, who could not get along with any women introduced to him, scaring them away with his blunt remarks and cold indifference, had been uncharacteristically catering to the girl who used to eye-fuck Cassian from across the room, giving him sunny smiles and entertaining him with dirty jokes. Now her looks where few and further apart, Elain hiding her snort behind her hand instead of giving him a full belly laughter, avoid responding to his innuendos with something dirtier, as she usually would. An unexplainable queasiness twisted in his stomach.

“Speaking of being a man. You and Lainy,”

"Elain.” Azriel corrected with annoyance. “Her name is Elain, not this ridiculous nasal stretch you do.”

“You and Lainy are close now, huh.” Cassian repeated the nickname to spite him, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the arm rest. “Close enough for you to take her home… mouth fuck under the moonlight...”

“Jesus Christ.” Azriel rubbed his face, wishing to be anywhere but here. “Your vocabulary is superb Cass, keep it up.”

“What? You were the one dry humping the girl in front of everyone.”

“No one was dry humping, your sick fuck. I don’t know what you do in your relationship, but us, normal folks, we can kiss for the sake of it, no hidden agenda.” Azriel was not cut out for the lifestyle his brother led. To kiss and bed anyone without knowing where their mouths and body might have been before? No thank you. Hard pass.

“You seriously dating the girl?” Azriel nodded, once. Cassian snorted. “Bullshit. I never saw you with a single girlfriend.”

Azriel watched his brother, his restless hand. His brow furrowed. Were Cassian and Elain closer than he anticipated? He knew they were friends, but this. This was something else.

“I didn’t see you either, now look at you.” He eyed the shinning gold band on his brother finger. A commitment ring. Ten years and he couldn’t get Mor to even address him as her fucking boyfriend, but one month was apparently enough to date his brother and get a ring stuck in her finger. Her words, not his.

“People will notice.”

“Say it a regular ring. I’ll get you an inconspicuous one.”

“I can’t have a ring constantly stuck in my finger, Az, it will give me tan lines. People will notice.”

“It’s different. I’m chick magnet, didn’t had a girlfriend by choice, fucked plenty of them, tho." His smug was presumptuous. "You, on the other hand, I never saw you with anyone. Why now? Why her?”

Because Elain is capable of shutting my mind down, she rambles so much I can’t hear myself thinking, can’t think about girls I shouldn’t be thinking. Because Elain made a crazy suggestion when I needed a light. Because Elain is the first woman I enjoyed kissing in a long time. Because Elain doesn’t make me hate myself. Because I want to live like a normal man being loved by a normal woman.

Azriel didn’t voiced the answers. None of them were for his brother’s peace of mind. His deal with Elain was private, there was no need to explain the reasons that bound them to Cass.

“You are awfully interested in my girlfriend.”

“Can you blame me? We figured you’d be coming out of the closet any day now. Then puff, you appear with a girlfriend.”

Azriel glared at him.

“I’ve told you, I’m not gay.”

“Well, now I know that. Cousin Rhys will be thrilled to know he won.”

“You and Rhys made a bet on me?" Cassian grinned. "Assholes.”

Hell yeah he bet on him. Azriel had always been a weird kid, full of don’t-touch-me, all worried about wrinkles on his clothes. Plus, the fact that never introduced a single girl to them, never talked about hook up, or dates, or dalliances of any kind was very suspicious. Cassian sat straighter in his chair, an idea occurring to him.

“Wait. Is this one of those fake-dating situations? You and Rhys working together?”

Okay, Azriel had enough. His brother had nothing of important to discuss, and he had a lot of work to do. He collected his things and got up.

“Damn, little Lainy sure is a good actress. I didn’t know she had it in her.”

Azriel flipped his brother on his way out.

“Marino. For two.”

The girl behind the small reception desk checked her system, confirming Azriel’s reservation.

“Follow me, please.”

Elain and Azriel walked behind the petite receptionist as they quietly moved between the tables filled with families, co-workers, friends, couples. Elain looked down to their joined hands. Azriel had taken a hold of hers soon as they were out of the car, Elain stopping dead in her track.

“What are you doing?”

“Building intimacy.”

“Over here.” The girl lead them to a round table by the window.

Tall framed glass from floor to ceiling, gave them a perfect view of the garden where the structure was built around, a magnificent fountain shooting jets in the sky, water lilies floating unbothered. Azriel pulled her chair and Elain sat down, nervous butterflies beat their wings desperately in her stomach, trying to break free. The girl gave them a set of menus, politely explaining that a waitress would take over.

Elain glanced discreetly at the other tables, trying to figure if theirs was the only one without breadsticks or if this place was too fancy to give them free munchables.

“What?” Azriel asked, following her gaze.

“Breadsticks,” she muttered.

She must have given him glutton vibes, because his eyes crinkled with amusement.

“We can order some if you’d like.”

"You a regular?" He shook his head.

"First timer. Didn't seem appropriate to take you to places I know." Did he want to keep her like a dirty little secret? Would you look at that. Elain was opening her mouth when he said, "I don't want us to make memories in soiled land. I rather start fresh, just you and I."

Elain closed her mouth. Oh, that's actually thoughtful. Her ears pinked on the tips, Azriel returning his eyes to the menu, thick black lashes nearly brushing his cheeks. Elain spied his new haircut, the slight fade on the sides making the perfect shape of his ears stand out, the glossy waves on top combed back in a stylish manner. He looked particularly handsome tonight, reading the menu with the same keen attention he’d give to a report, as if analyzing steak options required a minuntious evaluation of each option presented. Elain got so lost studying him that when the waitress came, she was yet to choose an option.

Azriel made his order with mastery, adding a bottle of wine by the year. Elain was impressed. She generally chose her wine by category; red or white. She fumbled with the menu, grieving at the lack of breadstick or fries. The waitress took pity on her, helping her though the most requested dishes, asking for her preferences in meat, finding her the perfect dish to order.

When she was gone, Azriel said.

“I booked us a hotel.”

Elain gasped exaggeratedly, wrapping her arms around her chest in a fake show of modesty. “How dare you? I’ve told you I’ll marry a virgin!”

The table beside their, containing what appear to be a squad of girlfriends in a night out, threw them suspicious glances, whispering heatedly amongst themselves. Azriel rolled his eyes.

“For the RD Award.” He reminded her. Elain needed no remind, she knew exactly what he meant, and she had no interest in it right now.

“Noooooo.” she let out a long-suffering whine, making him frown.

“Did you want to do that?”

“Don’t talk to me, I’m in mourning.” She used the napkin in her lap to dab the corners of her eyes, fake hiccups to match her fake tear. “I can’t believe I’m dating a man who talks about work on a night out. Lord, why have you forsaken me!”

A couple of snickers could be heard from the next table. Azriel rubbed his neck to mask his embarrassment, because her taunt was reasonable. He’d done it out of habit, used to interact with Elain in work related matters.

Despite is energetic disposition when it came to fashion, Azriel was an introvert who didn’t have much interest in anything else. In the past decade his life could be resumed in two things: Marinos and her. Azriel didn’t like people, didn’t have many friends, didn’t left his house unless he was working, didn’t travel unless he wanted to see her. After having to spend five days a week interacting with his employees, giving orders, creating back-up plans, correcting mistakes and solving endless problems, Azriel was perfectly fine spending his free time napping, eating home-made food, nursing a glass while a documentary rolled on the tv. It's how he recharged his energy. And for the dating department…

Truth be told, Azriel was a little rusty on the dating department. On the rare dates he agreed to go, he didn’t have to speak much, the women pretty content in talking about themselves, batting their lashes at him, intrigued by his silence, which they interpreted as a bad boy persona. They've read him wrong. Azriel wasn’t a bad boy, he didn’t have spare energy to invest in being one. Most times he was simple exhausted, uninterested, heartbroken, trying to distract himself to not think about her, trying to forget the woman who wasn’t a good parameter for quality time either.

Her name still caused him pain.

Mor.

He avoided using it, addressing her by the full name when necessary.

When he was with her, he was her secret, and he had to remain just that, a secret. Back them Azriel did lots of confidential encounters, last minute trips to where she’d be modeling, booking extravagant hotels for the pleasure of her company, appealing to secluded resorts if he wanted to see her outside a room, because their outings consisted in gathering with her friends, fund raisings and galas. Non-committal events that wouldn't put her in a spot she didn't want, because God forbid they were out, let’s say, enjoying a good meal, and someone spotted them.

“Now is not the time. My sponsors don’t like this kind of public attention. You know how prissy they are.”

“I’ve signed a no-dating clause, Az. I’ve told you that.”

“Please, please take me back. I won’t sign the clauses anymore, I’ll demand freedom in my personal life. I’m famous now, they have to listen to me!”

“Stop pressuring me! You are making me look like a villain. Look at everything I’ve done for you! They could sue me for being with you. Is that what you want? For me to be sue? Shunned from the spotlight?!”

“I’m sorry, Az. I’m really sorry. I don’t want it anymore; I don’t want to be a model if I can’t have you. I love you. You are my life.”

Elain rapped her knuckles gently on the table, giving him a worried look.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked gently.

Azriel sipped his water.

“That you are correct.”

Elain doubted. His expression had turned a little wistful, his shoulders sagging slightly. She decided not to comment on it, taking his lead to move the subject forward.

Azriel watched Elain sat higher in her chair, smugness pouring out of her. “That’s usually the case, but I’m glad you are finally admitting.” Her napkin went back to her lap. "Keep that energy when you wake up in the morning."

Azriel chuckled.

In the past, Azriel had judged Elain an airhead. Her eccentric persona and taste for crude jokes was far to similar to his brother’s, who couldn’t read the room to save his life. Cassian though himself the guru of flirting, but his inappropriate conducts had often rendered complains, Azriel having to arrange anti-harassment lectures to please the chief of HR. Azriel thought Cass would outgrow this childish fascination with making people uncomfortable as he grow older. He thought wrong. Turns out age was nothing but fuel to his shameless brother.

That’s why Azriel was instantly peeved with Elain, who strolled in his life with swaggering confidence and a sharp remark for everything, deeming her a female version of the brother who gave him constant headaches. Azriel was wrong again, but this time he was please to be. Now the paid her more attention, Azriel noticed Elain didn’t carry the same arrogant obliviousness as Cass. She was witty, outspoken, brazen even, having no problem in standing up to herself or what she believed, but she only joked around those closer to her, using her humor to make people at ease, to let them know she cared for them.

Sparkling chocolate eyes smiled at him.

Empathy wasn’t something Azriel was used to. It made him lightheaded.

Elain watched Azriel place one hand on top of the table, palm up, wiggling his long sumptuous fingers at her, the bronzed moisturized skin gleaming under the fluorescent lights. “Have I told you how lovely you look today?”

The word “lovely” coming out of his sinuous lips was enough to have her heart doing cartwheels. Her heart was trump. The useless lump of overly excited muscle had no business trying to beat out of her chest when Elain had put an extra effort in her appearance today. Gone were her everyday jeans and t-shirt, replaced by an elegant sage lily dress, the elastic ruched fabric ending with small ruffles around her knees, her pearl colored flats matching the pearl clips keeping her curls behind her ears, small sparkling dot adorning them.

Elain planted her palm in his. “Are you implying I don’t look lovely on the other days?”

“Would you drop dead if you spent a day of your life without contradicting me?” His voice lacked the usually annoyed undertone, his thumb tracing the path of her knuckles.

“Guess you’ll never find out.”

Elain put her free hand down as he had done, asking for his other hand, mimicking the strokes he gave her. Damn, this man’s hands were smooth as a baby bottom!.. is the rest of him this soft? Her thoughts slipped in a dirty tangent.

“I like your shirt.” The material of his dress shirt stretched comfortably over his chest, draping over his powerful arms, to end carefully folded around his elbows, leaving his forearms bare in a way he rarely did. The last time she had seen him sporting such a casual disposition, he stole her breath away. Literally. Elain licked her lips, her voice lower. “Black looks good on you.”

His lips tugged in the corner. “It is my color.”

“It is," she agreed in a daze

A tranquil atmosphere settled over them.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Mmh.”

“I'm glad I kissed you.”

Now she was full on blushing, her cheeks growing incredibly hot, especially when he lifted her hand to his face and kiss her palm. So, Elain did what she do best to mask embarrassment. She cracked a joke.

“My, my. I didn’t know you had it so bad. Tell me mister, how long have you been in love with me?”

“I’m not.” Azriel kissed her other palm, his gaze so intense she squirmed in her chair. Under the artificial light his eyes were all hazel, the fleeks of green hiding, waiting for the sunlight to unravel. “But I intend to be.”

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defaultfelix · 2 months

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Goodbye Strangers project update

After a somewhat lengthy hiatus from actively working on Goodbye Strangers, I've been regaining my connection with the project and its fictional world, and have decided to start working on the next site update in earnest. Which means, it's time for a general update on where things stand.

At some point last year, I started on a redesign of the site's central index and story pages, with the intention of making the content more organized and accessible. Though I had a general idea in mind for how I wanted to tackle this, it was a pretty daunting task – and coupled with health concerns, as well as various life events, and my own shyness towards sharing my work – at some point, I put the redesign aside, and took a hiatus from the website.

I've been gaining confidence in myself and my work however, and want to re-approach things in a way that aligns with my current focus and abilities. So, my intention is to start with the material that most clearly lays out the structure/metaphysics of the world/project, my own relationship with the work, as well as what I see as the "core" of the narrative (so, Default and Bracey's story threads in Space Madness, as well as details that flesh out their personalities and relationship to one another). I also want to use this as an opportunity to come out of my shell in terms of sharing work that is more vulnerable/personal, and/or more kinky/sexual; so, there will be new material that relates to myself (and how Goodbye Strangers relates to my understanding of reality), as well as new content that is NC-17/X-rated.

Once this "foundation" is established, I'll continue filling in the project/narrative by character/story thread, as I gradually integrate content from both the website's current incarnation, and previous content that has not yet been converted to the new code – such as The Known Unknowns, or the missing Module 2 entries. This will also give me a chance to organize and incorporate the extensive amounts of unfinished/unreleased content, which will be added to the site as the various sections are expanded.

Because this is something that that will take place in stages, not all of the material from the old site will be initially available. As such, the current version of the site will not be taken offline until all material has been incorporated into the new structure. At present, there is no timeline for this; as I am presently managing long-term physical and mental health conditions, I don't want to hold myself to an external schedule that causes needless stress. Nevertheless, I'm feeling optimistic about the project's future, and look forward to sharing new material.

Please feel free to reach out if you have any questions, or want to get involved in the process – and above all, thank you so much for supporting my work 💙

#goodbye strangers

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ageless-aislynn · 24 days

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Aislynn and the Long Rambly Rambles about Video Games and Finishing My Halo WIPs and Potential Future Halo Fic Ideas and I Dunno Maybe I Should Finish My Last Two Flash WIPs 'Cause That Would Be Super Rad, Too, Right?™️

Finished! I had a lot of fun with Portal! I did finally manage to compensate for the weird "look to the side and look all the way up or down" problem I was having, thankfully. The puzzle aspect was awesome!

Now, since I'm here for a good time, not to be an amazing gamer, I'mma be straight with you: I looked up the answer whenever I got stuck. I tried all of the puzzles "cold" first and kept trying even when I had no idea what to do. Then, when I reached that first hint of ~~frustration~~, I just looked up the answer. Most of the time, I still had to work to get through it, so it wasn't a gimme. But I don't even care if it does. Like I said, I'm here for a good time, full stop. After really thinking I was never going to get to play any other games in my Steam library because of all of Georgette's serious computer issues, I'm just super happy to be playing again!

I may play the second Portal next, might just go for something else entirely.

I still want to finish Scott/Peebee and Scott/Jaal in Mass Effect: Andromeda but while I can't make any further GIFs, I'm not in a big hurry to do that next. I can still capture the footage, though, so might just have to do that and then hope Georgette will let me install Vegas. 🤞😣🤞

I also have Half-Life and Half-Life 2 and I believe they're connected to Portal in some way? Also have heard they're good games, so they're definitely on my to-play list.

Also there is, in no particular order:

Mass Effect Legendary Edition (got to finally experience the OT, after all!)

Dragon Age: Inquisition (I'm thinking this might slightly scratch my itch to play Baldur's Gate 3, since I'm waiting on that to go on sale)

Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order (been looking forward to this one for a long time!)

Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain (another one I've been looking forward to for a while)

Tomb Raider (2013) (DEFINITELY been looking forward to this for ages and ages!)

Titanfall2 (have heard a lot of good things about this one; have also heard it's not too terribly long, which I'm looking for right now, I've got things like ME to play if I want something really long and involved but I'm honestly also looking for a few things that are less of a large time commitment to intersperse with the epic-sized games 😉)

Dead Rising 1, 2 and Off the Record (There are a few things about them I hope won't make me feel stressed out, I don't always do good with things that have time limits, but mannnn, I really want to try out all of the funny weapons and such that you can craft! So the plan is to not worry about "winning" just get in there and have fun!)

I've also got the Resident Evil Village demo but am kinda bummed that it's on a 30 minute time limit. So, like, if it takes me forever to get the hang of the controls, I might not get to see 5 minutes of gameplay. That'll suck. 😠It seems like it would've been better for the demo just to be a level or part of a level and if it takes you an hour to play it, what does it matter? You're still just playing that one little chunk they set aside for you to test out. Oh well, I'll give it a try out of these days.

The Resident Evil 4 remake demo isn't time-locked and you can replay it as much as you want, so I'm thinking about giving that a try. I dunno. I've watched a LOT of playthroughs in this franchise and I'd like to try them myself but I also know I can get skeeved out by body horror and sometimes survival horror in general just stresses me out. So, don't plan on picking up the full game of either of these until I get a chance to try out their demos at least. And I want them to be on a great sale in case I try the full game and then find myself going

Anyway, if you play games, what are you into these days?

Halo MCC will always be my comfort place, needless to say! Does anybody here do the weekly challenges? I love doing them! Just need 100 more points and I can buy everything on the final level/season/whatever they call it. I love getting new nameplates, lol!

Anyway, I did also do some writing today towards Camp NaNo and made my ridiculously low daily word par. I'm hoping to actually get all of the rest of "Recreation" and "15 Minutes" done in first draft form this month. That would be rad to just have to do final editing and get them posted in May! I'm going to miss them when they're done but I want to make sure that I get their story told, you know?

If I should achieve that goal, then I have a fluffy Vannak x Reader one-shot I'd like to finish. Then I realized if I do that, I'll have given everybody in Silver Team a Reader character except Riz. Can't have that, now can I? Riz is also MAH BB!

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dragon-spaghetti · 1 year

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Ok so!! It's almost the new year!! Holy shit!!!

2022 has been. Something. A lot went wrong this year, and if you knew me in the first half of it you know how I was ✨going through it✨ lmfao

I kept it off of tumblr mostly, so for those of you who don't know; my family was evicted so I was homeless for like a week (we are now fine thankfully), we all got covid, while isolating we found out my granda could die at any time (he then passed like 2 weeks before we got evicted), had some friend group fuckery, plus a fuckton of school stress , all within the first three months of the year!

There was plenty more shit after that, such as the amount of coursework I had due, drama practical exams, the written exams (featuring my school fucking up the course, which we found out with 24 hours to go til the exam), and a very stressful few months of job searching which eventually ended with me biting the bullet and having to go full time rather than part time like I'd intended, plus a lot of mental health struggles in between 😭

Needless to say; very stressful year, I can safely say I couldn't even really breathe until October. Which was then followed by art burnout caused by sheer exhaustion from now working a 9-5, something that devastated me as I no longer had the energy to do what I love as much as I wanted to. But that doesn't mean everything was all bad!!

I made so many amazing friends this year, and became closer to many I already had. Jumping around fandoms more has honestly been great to meet so many groups. I improved a shitton w my art, got to be involved with multiple fan projects, started posting on other places than just tumblr, we hit 1000 followers here (recently 1600!!!) which is something I only ever dreamed of a couple years ago! I also finally finished school, and honestly didn't realise how amazing it would feel to finally be free from that damn place after 7 long, miserable years

This is so long but, I want to say thank you for bearing with me through it all. I know I've been a bit all over the place, but I genuinely adore the lil community we've built here, and I hope it continues to grow through 2023 💖

#drag rambles #tw: death mention #<- just in case :0 #if you read through all of that then I commend you lmfao #but yeah Uh #I was not joking when I kept saying 2022 was hell on earth :')#I shit you not we got the eviction notice on January 5th THE YEAR WAS FUCKED LESS THAN A WEEK IN #I know saying 'I was homeless for a week' sounds v dramatic but like #remember there was a solid 3 months of terrifying uncertainty where we didn't know what was gonna happen to us #we could've been in a hostel until further notice #we could've had to give up our dog if we had nowhere to go #we happened to get lucky. but it was terrifying #even though friends can confirm I was joking about it through it all. I think everyone knew I was terrified lmao #words really can't describe how that dread feels until you live it #but it's all good now! we're ok. that was by far the worst event of the year. but it's ok #this year has been so difficult not just for me but to so many people I know #and look at us. we made it guys. we made it #I'm so proud of everyone. and yes that includes you reading this rn 💖#happy new year everyone 💖💖💖

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hyuccubus · 1 month

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A podcast ruined my life

I'm exaggerating, pulling the familiar con of sensationalism to draw you in. But this is a heavy one. Look how personable I'm being now, though, so humble and effacing. I put the "personal" in "personal stories"!

But seriously, a podcast fucked me up mentally. It wasn't even something immediately triggering; a true crime oddity that hit a little too close to home, but nothing with the typical American bent; no blood, no guts, no repurposed farm tools sticking out of the trash bins, buzzing with more flies than usual for this time of year.

It was an episode of Stuff You Should Know about, and this is where I would recommend anyone with anxiety disorder either prepare yourselves or stop reading, I mean it, just let this one go.

Going once.

Going twice.

The Tylenol Murders. I won't bring up the specifics, it involves poison, a lack of leads, and needless death. The thing of interest, beyond the rubber-necking into human suffering the eternally connected consumer is all too happy to indulge in, was that it changed so much of how medications make it to the shelves.

There's a few layers of irony here. The hosts certainly didn't mean to scare anyone; this happened once and has never happened again, some have tried to cover up their murdered spouses by blaming a copycat, some even causing irreparable harm to folks caught in the crossfire, but nothing like the initial case. For one thing, the copycats were caught.

Another irony; I was listening to the podcast at work to keep myself from driving myself up the wall from anxiety, thinking too much about things I shouldn't be thinking about. I even thought maybe I should skip that episode, for my own sake. But no, I decided, I am not a slave to my anxiety. I will not let it dictate what I do and not do. And it proceeded to drive me up a wall.

What's funny is, it didn't immediately destroy me. The idea was like a spore, taking root in my brain, biding its time. I got to thinking about how many hands touch the things that go into my body. The lack of control. The possibility. The agony of a body's death when it cannot process oxygen. The fear, the animal desire to breathe, and nothing can help you, no one can save you, and your family will see the sheet pulled back, and cover their mouths, tears budding in the ducts of their eyes, and say yes, that's you, or it was you, and all it takes is a pinch of powder.

It doesn't matter that it doesn't happen, that it's nigh impossible, you'd win the lottery ten times over before then... it could. It just could.

And it controlled me. I had trouble eating anything, I had to convince myself I would be okay, wait until I was around people I trusted and blindfold myself with the comfort that they wouldn't let anything happen to me. And I fucking hate it. I still won't take tylenol. I still have trouble taking anything unless I myself buy the bottle, open it, break the seal, and inspect the pills. I can't go back. I can't take the information out of my head.

I'm getting there. I'm realizing I'd be able to taste the poison at that dose, that manufacturers very very much do not want such a thing in their products, that microbes don't escape their purview, how could cyanide? But I'll more likely than not always have the twinge of fear. Every time I feel a headache, I don't think about allergies or hormonal periods, I think about what I ate, or drank. Could it have been spiked?

"No, of course not", says my rational brain.

"You can't prove that," says the fear.

But I'm still here. And I need to eat, and I really want medicine, and I'll have to find a way to deal with it. It's nobody's fault but mine. I'm getting to a point where I'm more afraid of what the stress will do to me than the idea of death by cyanide. I can't live my life by "what if"s, after all.

That's all the moral I have for you. If you think you should stay away from something, listen to it. You're not stronger for exposing yourself to things you don't want. Understanding your limits is a kind of strength all its own.

#spilled ink #queer writers #anxiety

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looye29 · 1 year

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fictionalwh0ree · 2 years

Note

With Angie, like get into an argument Bc when asked one of them revealed they were in a relationship and the other denied it. (fight then fluff)

red carpet- angelina jolie

summary: it's your first red carpet and you get asked about your relationship with your co-star, angelina. you deny everything, she does the opposite. needless to say, she's not happy.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none

pairing: angelina jolie x fem!reader

the day had finally come. after months of hard work, late nights and early mornings, the premiere of your movie, girl, interrupted, had come. this movie meant so much to you for so many reasons. it was a movie you knew would skyrocket you into fame, not only because of the plot , but because of the star-studded cast involved. another contributor was your relationship with co-star angelina jolie.

she was everything you'd wanted in a girl. she was talented, intelligent, funny and extremely gorgeous. you'd had a crush on her since the minute you laid eyes on her. when you began filming, you'd kept it extremely professional, but there was an undeniable attraction between the two of you. you became official almost half a year before the premiere. it was a private relationship, of course, and it's not like anyone would assume differently. it was only 1999, of course.

the day of premiere was stressful to say the least, but angie comforted you through every step of the way. when it'd come time to get ready, you'd split ways and you'd only see her again on the red carpet. as she left, she pressed a kiss to your forehead and assured you that everything would work out perfectly.

when you were ready, there was a limo waiting outside your apartment. you hopped in, and although the venue was only a 25 minute drive away, it felt hours long. your brain overthought everything and came up with the worst possible scenario for any and every situation.

you could trip when you get out of the car.

you could have a massive wardrobe malfunction.

you could answer an interviewers question and completely embarrass yourself.

the possibilities went on and on and you were only pulled out of that state when you heard the driver call you.

"ma'am, we've arrived," he said.

you took a deep breath and politely thanked him as a security guard opened the door for you.

one step at a time, you told yourself.

you stepped out of the car and were greeted with shutters clicking and flashes going off. people called your name left and right, but all you were trying to do was to maintain calm so you wouldn't trip on your dress.

once you got into the venue, you spotted angelina. your worries faded as you admired her. her outfit was simplistic, a dark t-shirt paired with a floor-length leather skirt and a long gray coat draped over her shoulders.

she sent you a small smile when she noticed you approaching, which you gladly returned. she was standing in a group with some of the other co-stars. when you finally got there, you hugged them all. when you finally hugged your girlfriend, it lasted longer, and when you pulled away, instead of letting go completely, she let one of her arms slide down your back, securing itself around your waist. you stayed like this for a while, knowing paparazzi wouldn't be able to see that considering how everyone was angled.

as you all conversed, an employee came and politely let you all know that you had to begin walking down the carpet for photos and interviews. they all began to walk down, but you stayed with angelina for a minute longer.

"how're you feeling?" she asked.

"i'm alright, just nervous i guess," you admitted.

"well, you look amazing," she complimented, "and i know you'll do great on the carpet. just don't overthink it too much. deflect if you need to."

you blushed at her compliment, thanking her before wrapping your arms around her for another hug.

"you ready?" she asked.

"yeah," you answered.

she sent you one last smile before you were off. the area was overtaken by shouts from paparazzi. all you ould hear was their calls for you to look their ways. shutters clicked up and down the carpet, followed by the blinding flashes. you continued to move down until you reached the interview area. their cameras focused on you and a mic was extended towards your face.

"so, y/n, what was it like working on this movie?" the reporter asked.

"it was great. i mean at first i was kinda intimidated by everyone, especially angie, but they're all very nice people. they've made it a great work environment," you answered.

"speaking of angelina, you guys are frequently seen out together and reportedly grown very close. is there anything romantic between the two of you?" they asked.

your cheeks flushed as your brain scrambled for an answer.

just don't overthink it too much. deflect if you need to.

angelina's words replayed in your brain as you tried your best not to do just that.

"next question," you joked, laughing nervously, causing the reporter to laugh a bit too.

"i mean, we did a lot of scenes together so i'd say that'd make most people bond. when you work on a movie, it kind of takes up your whole life, so we just got really close. plus, we have a lot in common, that's it," you answered, leaving out the fact that what you had in common was your gay love for each other.

she nodded before asking a couple more questions. as you walked down to the end of the carpet, you walked past angelina who was still being interviewed.

"there have been photos taken of you and co-star y/n y/l/n where you're rather touchy with each other. is there anything romantic going on there?" you heard the reporter ask, causing you to slow down.

"um, yeah," she answered and although she was facing away from you, you could basically hear the smile in her voice. however, your smile dropped as you realized what you'd done.

"speaking of y/n, there she is now," a reporter said.

her and the cameramen beckoned you over. you plastered a smile onto your face and hoped the uneasiness didn't come through.

"hi!" you smiled as you approached, angelina's arm wrapping around your waist immediately.

"you answered this question not long ago, but your answer was much more, deflective," the reporter said.

"uhhh, i mean, yeah, i guess it was. it was kind of unexpected but i guess the cat's out of the bag now," you smiled.

"so, it's confirmed, you two are exclusive?" the reporter asked, to which you both nodded.

"well, why don't you give us your first kiss as a public couple," she coaxed.

angelina shrugged before putting her hand on your cheek, gently pushing it to face her. you were both smiling for the camera’s but your eyes told a different stories. angie’s eyes had a hint of anger in them and yours had regret. you leaned forward to connect your lips in a kiss, which she returned, but you could tell it was only for the cameras. the usual passion and love behind them was nowhere to be found.

you politely said goodbye and walked into the theatre where the premiere was being held. as you walked, silence filled the air. you walked uncomfortably next to each other before you were pulled into a bathroom.

“what the hell was that?” she asked angrily once the door was shut and locked.

“what was what?” you asked ‘cluelessly.’

“don’t play dumb, y/n,” angelina yelled, “you said no. you denied that we were in a relationship. and- and i said yes. i said yes.”

“i mean, i just deflected it. i didn’t know what to do. i’m new to this, ang. i didn��t want to accidentally ruin your career or anything,” you said truthfully, taking her hands into yours.

her eyes searched yours for any sort of indication that you were lying, but there was none. her expression softened before she enveloped you in a hug.

“i’d pick you over my career any day, y/n,” she whispered in your ear.

she pulled away and planted a short kiss on your lips before grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the small bathroom.

“come on, we have a premiere to attend to.”

#angelina jolie #angelina jolie x reader #angelina jolie x you #angelina jolie x y/n #angelina jolie imagine #angelina jolie x fem!reader #lgbtq #wlw #gxg #sapphic

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yandere-daze · 3 years

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I honestly don't remember if I requested something earlier, but just in case I am going to request something else. Can I request headcanons for Azul, Floyd, and Leona with a drunk reader. It can be that they are not dating yet, but they feel something for each other and the reader gets drunk, becoming touchy and affectionate, hugging them and stuff, maybe kissing them. Is it okay? Feel free to ignore if you want and/or if I broke any rules.

Hello hello! First of all so sorry for the long wait adbhabda I hope you still like this though!!

tw alcohol, drunk reader

Azul reacting to his drunk crush being affectionate

In an attempt to subtly win your affections, Azul had a habit to invite you over to the Mostro lounge after working hours, where he would - very unlike him-offer you free drinks and snacks

Today was one such day. You two were sitting across from each other at one of the empty tables, having a conversation. Apparently classes had been especially rough for you and after shooting down his suggestion to make a contract with him to help you study ( he would have done it for free as well) you asked him for another drink. You needed something alcoholic to take your mind off of things

He quickly obliged, glad to be able to make you happy and a drink was delivered to your table after a few minutes. Without wasting any time, you quickly drowned the drink and asked for a refill

"My, are you not drinking a little hastily? Perhaps you should slow down a bit", Azul asked you, his voice filled with a hint of concern as he watched you quickly finish a second glass of alcohol

"Nah I'm fine! Don't worry!" You tried to assure him while wildly waving around your arms, not pointing at anything in particular

He grew more and more worried as minutes passed by with you still not stopping. He didn't have any personal experience with this but was it not unhealthy for humans to drink so much alcohol in such little time? He was about to ask you to stop once more, when you interrupted him

"Hasanyone evr told ya how cuuuute you arrre?" You slurred and clumsily leaned forward, almost knocking over the glasses on the table as you reached to stroke Azul's cheek

Azul couldn't help but flush as he felt his crush touch him so casually, completely dropping his composed facade at the affectionate gesture. You calling him cute on top of that didn't help him cool down either. He was well aware that the alcohol you consumed must have caused you to suddenly be so forward but he couldn't help but wish that maybe there were some mutual feelings involved when you kissed his cheek softly while giggling "who's my cuute lil octopus? You aaaare"

Floyd reacting to his drunk crush being affectionate

It was a pretty busy day when you decided to visit Mostro lounge. Crowley had oh so graciously awarded you with a handful of madol for the small feat of handling 5 separate overblot incidents within a few months of being in this world so you were intent on spending your newfound "riches" at a friend's business.

You let yourself be lead to a table by Jade who had greeted you at the door. Quickly taking your order, he left with the promise that his brother would soon be accompanying you, a laugh hid behind his hand as he watched your flushed expression.

It was surely no secret that your feelings towards the eel had grown to be something more than platonic, something that Azul and Jade had quickly found out and teased you for at every opportunity. Were you ever going to confess to Floyd? You weren't quite sure. You were afraid that he would not feel the same, even though he loved to hug you tightly at every opportunity and became clingy whenever you had to leave

Shaking your head, you banished the thought of confession for now, knowing that you couldn't come up with the confidence to do so right this moment

You didn't have to wait long before Floyd basically ran over to bring you your order, a sandwich and an alcoholic drink you had ordered to relieve yourself of some of the stress that had built up. Needless to say, one glass turned into a couple and you had vastly overestimated your alcohol tolerance, leaving you drunk in the end

The next time Floyd came by your table, you practically latched onto his waist, not letting go no matter what.

"Hehe is shrimpy being clingy? I'm going to squeeze you reaalll tight then!"

He would most definitely hug you back with even more enthusiasm, enveloping you in a tight embrace. He loves the attention and affection you're giving him and he can't stop smiling. His shrimpy is so forward today, he loves it! They better not want to leave in the next few hours because he will cling onto them the entire time

Feeling way more confident due to being intoxicated, you proudly confess your true feelings : "I looove you Floyd!! Wanna kwiss!!" Floyd doesn't really care if you're just saying it because you're drunk, there must be truth to your confession so he takes you by your word and readily accepts! You're in a relationship now, congrats! Now let him hug you some more, okay? Surely Jade can take care of the remaining customers on his own

Will definitely take you up on your offer of a kiss

Leona reacting to his drunk crush being affectionate

We all know Leona would normally never be all to obvious with his fondness towards you even though you are his crush. Would rather die than ever admit that he likes you. So he kind of doesn't know what to do at first when you come to his dorm room, obviously drunk out of your mind and scrambling to run into his arms

He almost considers just stepping to the side or pushing you away but in the end doesn't move from his spot and reluctantly wraps his arms around you. While you nuzzle your face into his chest, he carefully analyzes the current situation.

This actually isn't all that bad for him. You probably wouldn't remember anything that happened today anyway, right? So he could spare to be a bit more true to his feelings just this once

He's used to always being the second choice, the one that gets abandoned so for you to come to him first? It's boosting his ego in a major way and I don't know if that's a good thing ahshw

But while his behavior is usually cocky, he allows himself to be a bit soft today. He lets you sit on his lap as you giggle and place butterfly kisses all over this face

Is he blushing now? Who knows, you certainly won't remember and he certainly won't tell anyone about it

Once he feels you getting tired, he will lay you down in his bed, for once electing to leave it to you and sleep on the floor instead, when you tug on his arm, begging him to sleep next to you

With a fond sigh Leona would relent and lay down next to you, pulling the cover over you both

Poor Ruggie will have a heart attack next morning when he comes to wake up Leona. Will tease you both to no end but stops promptly when Leona threatens him with extreme violence

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quietly-by-myself · 2 years

Text

Chapter 4 - Lost Time is Never Found Again

Masterlist

A couple of things before this chapter: this story does have a title (thanks hold-him-down for reminding me to post it!). It's Mercury, Titanium, and the Balance of Time or Mercury and Titanium for short. I also do have a running taglist.

Updates in the next few weeks will be slow. I am undergoing a minor surgery and normally don't react the best to anaesthesia. I'm going to be focusing on my classwork and my research project after it, too.

I'll probably do ask games to bridge the gap. I don't like writing drabbles for my stories, so ask games are probably going to fill any gap over 2 weeks (or 3, maybe).

There's some intense stuff in this chapter. Please heed the warnings carefully.

Themes: slavery, post-traumatic stress/mental illness/panic attacks, aftermath of abuse, trauma, dehumanization, war, POWs, and the aftermath of, fictional countries/politics/organizations/happenings, past noncon (will come up in some chapters more than others), homophobia in a military context.

Chapter-specific: emeto, explicit descriptions of flashbacks, med whump (involving medications, none of which are drug of abuse and general pain/injury aftermath)

Previous | Next

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Louka sat there, on the floor, staring down his plate of eggs from a cautious distance. He didn’t want to eat, but he didn’t want to insult his new owner by not eating them. By the time he mentally prepared himself enough to eat the eggs, the slimy, horrid texture that they were cold, it threw Louka into a violent flashback.

He saw William, standing in front of him. The taste in his mouth went foul as the eggs became something much more sinister. The scars on his back ached as he felt bile rising in his throat. He didn’t want to swallow. He couldn’t swallow. William knew that but if Louka didn’t, he would get a second caning. Louka wasn’t ungrateful. Louka would be good. He couldn’t survive another caning.

Suddenly, he couldn’t take it anymore. Louka made a dash for the sink - the brand-new stainless steel sink of this new house he had the audacity to defile. He hurled once, twice, three times, crying, crying tears full of pain from the burning in his throat. The force of his stomach made every abused muscle in his abdomen hurt.

Please make it stop. Please make it stop. Please.

Finally, as though his prayers were heard, the vomiting stopped. He coughed a couple times, looking at the mess he left in the sink. Tears overwhelmed his eyes. It hadn’t even been half a day and Louka had already screwed everything up. He couldn’t eat the food graciously provided to him. He’d vomited in the beautiful sink. Louka felt awful.

His sobs shook his body as he did his best to be quiet. His new owner slept deeply. Louka was thankful for that. But he wouldn’t risk waking him with his needless crying. It was just eggs. Eggs with expensive maple syrup on them, nonetheless. Why was eating eggs so impossible for him? Why was he so pathetic as to not even be able to eat?

Another wave of nausea hit him, but his stomach hurt much too badly to vomit again.

I need to clean this up.

Louka was dizzy. He always got dizzy after throwing up. However, he couldn’t let the smell of the bile wake his new owner up.

The drain on the sink was odd. It didn’t have drain holes. Rather, it was one big hole that made it easy to cut the leftover eggs up into pieces and flush them down the sink, down with his sins. He let the water run for about five minutes - he counted the time on the clock - then pumped a bit of soap in after, turning the water hot and letting it run for a further two minutes. Louka prayed it would be enough.

He wiped his face a bit with the napkin he’d been given, then threw it in the garbage. Louka figured it would be best to clean all the dishes, but worried he was too dizzy to stand for long periods of time.

His head was pounding. The lights above him were burning holes in his eyes and the sound of water dripping off the faucet was like a pin being shoved into his skull with every drop. Still, he willed himself to rinse off the dishes and leave them in the sink. Louka would wash them in the morning before his owner came back down.

Where did he want me to sleep?

Louka hadn’t been paying enough attention. The memory of his owner’s anger with him for insulting his furniture and cooking overwhelmed him. It was after he’d scolded Louka that he’d mentioned where he was to sleep, but he was too stupid to remember it. He’d simply shut down. God, he was so stupid.

His owner would probably punish him in the morning. Louka tried not to give into another panic attack as he thought about it. No, he needed to sleep. His owner would be angry if he didn’t sleep. But, where? The couch? No, that was impossible. He couldn’t. Maybe he’d left Louka to sleep on the cold floor with the lights on, no blanket, as a punishment.

It was all his fault.

He moved over to the hardwood floors towards a wall of windows, far away from the lights left on in the kitchen. The sky was so different from the sky in Vavalon. It was clear, with clouds of glitter behind the immense blanket of stars. He’d never seen so many details in the sky, yet the longer he looked, the more he could see.

He wasn’t deserving of sleeping there. His owner might’ve been mad at him for daring to look outside. Louka decided on the floor of the kitchen, near the lights.

He laid down on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Of course, the anxiety kept him awake. The more that time went on, the more anxious he felt. Maybe the medicine was wearing off, because the pain in every bone in his body was getting worse.

Should he punish himself? Let his owner know that he knew his place?

No, that wasn’t for Louka to decide.

He decided on counting lines in the paint on the ceiling. He counted and counted until eventually, his brain hurt too much to allow him to continue. Then, he tried closing his eyes to get the sharp pain to abate. It didn’t. However, the sharp pain was one of the last things he’d remembered before he fell asleep that first night.

---

Atticus woke up exhausted. He turned his head to the clock, where the time read 4:00. It made sense - Vavalon was three hours ahead of Freinleau. He normally woke up at 7:00, so of course he’d be waking up earlier for a while. Atticus decided to try to go back to sleep, but after watching his nightstand, trying to make the time go by faster for twenty minutes, he realized he wouldn’t be going back to sleep.

Slowly, he sat up and took his crutch under his arm. Getting up was always a challenge - the cyclobenzaprine made his muscles loose which, although it helped him sleep without pain, made it hard to find his footing. So, he took it very slow as he walked to the bathroom to splash a little water on his face before he made his way down the stairs.

What he saw when he got down startled him. The lights were on. Immediately, he thought someone might’ve broken in. However, through the initial wave of panic, he realized that the lights he’d left on were just never turned back off.

The bigger shock came when he looked at the kitchen floor. Louka was lying there - no blanket, no pillows, in dirty clothes, with the lights on.

What the hell was he thinking?

Atticus was unsure of whether or not to wake the man. It was just such a strange sight. It wasn’t possible that Louka just collapsed and fell asleep. He hadn’t… oh shit. Atticus had forgotten to give him his meds, though it took away the possibility that he’d just fallen asleep on the floor.

In fact, he had no clue what to do. It was such an odd situation and Louka was so fragile that he feared even waking him to move him to some piece of furniture would scare him beyond measure. Atticus needed to be more awake, more alert before he could begin to work with Louka.

Quietly, he went to the sink and noticed the rinsed dishes. That was sweet of him. Atticus thought he’d smelled something a little foul, but he thought it must’ve been his nose playing tricks on him.

Figuring out where everything was in his new kitchen was half the challenge. He was trying not to wake Louka as he went along, finding a saucepan and a box of loose tea. Although his mother had always insisted on making tea in the kettle, Atticus preferred to boil water in a saucepan and seap tea on a gentle stovetop heat. It made more and tasted plenty strong, just took a little longer. He never minded.

Once his water was set to boil, he looked back to Louka. Atticus needed to wake him up. He was determined now.

…

Louka awoke with a frantic start as he hit away the hands that were shaking him awake. His head hit the stone of the floor and he let out a cry of pain. The hands he’d just hit away instead went to cradle the back of his head. Unwittingly, Louka felt hands curl in his curls, pulling, pulling, as he tried to get away. He needed to get away. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t make his owner angry. He still needed to get away.

“Hey, hey, take a deep breath.”

Master’s hardened, yet kindly green eyes looked down at him. He’d moved his crutch to the table to help Louka.

Louka’s breathing was panicked as he flinched away, trying to move. Master allowed him to. As soon as Louka sat up, he crawled away from Master’s touch, pressing himself against a cabinet.

“It’s okay, I won’t come near you again.”

Master reached for his crutch, groaning as he moved up from the ground. Louka knew he must’ve been angry at him for making him come to the floor for a lowly creature on a bad hip. If he wanted any chance of a lesser punishment, it would be better to apologize and apologize quickly. However, Louka couldn’t bring himself to. His panic was building in his chest. If he told Master anything, it was sure to be used against him later. However, if he didn’t apologize, he’d just be made to admit it with the cane.

Suddenly, Louka felt something wet on his face. For a moment, he worried it was water or perhaps something more disgusting, but soon realized he was crying. Master had taken a seat, waiting quietly, watching him.

“Louka, if you want to tell me anything, you’re welcome to talk to me about it.”

It was posed oh-so innocently. Louka could almost hear his old Master’s voice in those words. The saccharine sweet way he posed it was more of a threat than a demand and a cane. Refuse the generosity of fear and be punished twice for disobedience and for ungratefulness. Answer honestly and be punished once for wrongdoing.

“I’m sorry, Master, I’m sorry,” Louka curled into a ball, protecting everything he could from the beating he knew as coming. Perhaps Master would use his crutch. It would certainly hurt. It was made of pure metal that was sure not to bend on his back.

“Sorry for what?”

Master was challenging him. Louka covered his face as he began to weep more and more. He didn’t want to say. He didn’t say to say. He had to tell Master. It was a question. He couldn’t disobey a question.

“I-I,” he spoke between gasps, “I couldn’t eat the eggs. I-I-I,” he took three deep, panicking breaths before he could speak again. “I threw them up in the sink. I tried to clean, I swear I did Master. I rinsed the dishes. I slept on the floor with the lights on like you wanted. I’m sorry I couldn’t eat your cooking Master. Please, Master, I know I do not deserve your mercy but my head hurts from the lights. I can’t think. I know the food is worth more than I am, Master. Do as you wish, Master. I can’t think. I can’t think.”

He broke down in uncontrolled sobs. He’d thrown out good food, food that was worth more than he was. He’d slapped Master’s hands away. He’d disobeyed. He was awful. Pure, awful garbage.

“Do you… not like eggs?” Master gave him a somewhat puzzled look. Louka gave him a startled, frozen look. He couldn’t insult Master’s food choice. He couldn’t let Master know he didn’t like eggs. For all he knew, Master would feed him three plates of eggs just to see him squirm.

“It’s okay if you don’t like eggs, Louka. I’m worried about why you threw up. It wasn’t because of the lights right?”

Worry. Fake worry. Louka had to answer now. “N-no, I just don’t like eggs, Master. Their texture makes me feel ill.”

He huddled, waiting for the other boot to drop. He was just cornered into insulting Master. It wouldn’t go well.

Master looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “My sister hated their texture too. I only got used to it cause in some of the rations, they had these fucking disgusting pre-made eggs. A hazing of sorts, I presume. Fresh eggs like these are delicious, but I understand why you might not like them.”

Master stood leaving his crutch against the table. “I’m making fruit tea right now. Is there something you’d like to eat, Louka? You must be pretty hungry, not having eaten for a while like that.” He went over to Louka. “Is it okay if I pick you up? I want to move you to the couch, but you look pretty pale and I don’t want you falling.”

Louka nodded frantically. He’d be good. He’d let Master take him tonight, the first night if he wanted. Anything, anything to prevent falling out of his good graces.

Gently, Master scooped him, despite Louka flinching and pressing himself against the cabinet. Slowly, as though Louka were a scared, cornered dog, Master brought him over to the leather couch in the living room and laid Louka on the couch.

“Stay here a moment.”

Louka allowed himself to close his eyes, not wanting to see what Master would be carrying when he came back. He heard the footsteps, braced himself for the punishment, but instead a fuzzy, thick, warm blanket enveloped him.

“I’m going to lift your head a moment, okay?”

It wasn’t really a request for consent more than it was a warning. Master lifted his head and laid a soft, comfortable pillow under his head.

“They did a really good job stocking this house. I told them with my hip, I couldn’t do house shopping, so they had someone furnish it for me.”

Suddenly, bubbling and sizzling came from the kitchen. “Shit! The water’s boiled over.”

As he ran out of the room with that limb in his step, Louka allowed himself to calm, tucking his chin under the warm blanket. His tears slowed less quickly now, but no less steady. He allowed himself a few sobs before Master came back in the room, with his crutch this time.

“I’m sorry if I scared you there.”

Louka hadn’t the slightest clue what he was talking about.

“I found some like, pre-made preserved coffee cakes. You can have that or I can put something on a slice of bread for you.”

“Whatever pleases you Master,” his voice came out more wobbly than he wanted it to.

“It would please me to know if you would like bread or coffee cakes.”

Louka didn’t know how to answer this test posed before him, but he couldn’t imagine the idea of eating jam after the violent flashback the eggs had given him. “Coffee cake, Master, please.”

Master nodded and stood. Soon enough, a time that Louka couldn’t really make sense of, Master came back with two mugs of tea. He walked back to the kitchen and then came back with two plates - one with cake on it and the other without. Before he handed one plate off to Louka, he put some of it on a plate for himself.

“Please, eat it all, Louka.”

Louka pushed himself up at the easy command. Holding the fork for the coffee cake was difficult for him, much more difficult than he’d expected. As he tried to take a piece of it with the edge, his hands were almost uncontrollable with their shaking.

He looked up nervously at Master, scared of his reaction. Master put his dishes down, then moved towards Louka. He flinched away, terrified, but Master just picked up the fork and the plate. Before Louka could beg to be allowed to eat, Master seemed to have already answered his questions.

“They warned me of nerve damage in your hands that would make it difficult for you to eat. If you’ll let me, Louka, I’ll feed you just this once so we can have you take your medicine. They gave me something to give you for your tremor, so you’ll have an easier time eating once it’s in you. I just don’t want you to hurt your stomach when I give you your meds.”

Louka didn’t understand a word of what Master said, but he understood being fed. It made sense. He was simply too pathetic at eating on his own and Master wanted to make him eat.

Louka gave a firm nod and Master picked up the fork and began to feed him one forkful of cake at a time. It was absolutely delicious. He could hardly believe, after everything he’d done, that he’d be given such a tasty thing to eat.

“I don’t know how sleepy these are going to make you. I ask the doctors to prescribe smaller pills, so there’s more of them, but they should be easier to swallow.”

It was all noise to Louka. He couldn’t tell one word from another with the pain in his head. However, he understood very clearly the position he was in after Master returned with three pill bottles and one box of pills. His eyes went wide as panic surrounded him.

No. No. No. No. It was a trick. The cake was a trick.

He didn’t want drugs. Now that he wasn’t with the nurses to protect him from Master, he was going to face punishment. Master wanted him drugged - that had to be it.

The more he thought, the more he worried, the more his head started to pound. He gripped the edges of his head, as though gripping that invisible band around his skull would relieve the pain. He was in too much pain. He couldn’t face his first day of service in such condition.

A soft voice brought him back.

“Hey, Lou, it’s okay.”

The voice was scratchy speaking so gently - probably from years of yelling. He sounded more congested and raspy than quiet, but there was an unmistakable tenderness between the difficulty and the rasps.

“Lou, are you back with me?”

“I’m sorry, Master.” It was the first thing that came to mind to say.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, Lou.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, it hurts for me to speak quietly like that.” He spoke at a still quiet volume, but one that was more normal. “Lou, can you call me Sir Atticus instead? It would be a lot better than Master.”

Sir Atticus. He could do Sir Atticus.

Lou?

“Can you say it once for me, Lou?”

There was that name again. Lou.

“Sir Atticus.” Louka was scared as he said the words, but wouldn’t disobey a direct command from his owner.

He expected a frown, maybe a twisted, angry expression. However, Sir Atticus gave him a gentle, tired smile that reached his eyes. “You did a really good job, Lou.”

Louka glowed at the praise. He was doing well. He wasn’t bad. He wasn’t going to hurt.

“Now, I won’t make you take any of these if you don’t want to.” Sir Atticus pulled the pill bottles. “I’m going to explain what each one will do. Then you decide if you want it or not, okay? I want you to tell me what I’m going to do so I know that you understand.”

This, at least, felt familiar. “You’re going to tell me what each medicine will do, then I will tell you if I would like to take it or not, M- Sir Atticus.”

It was an illusion of choice. He couldn’t refuse any of the medication. He knew that much. However, Sir Atticus was at least happy with him. He would take the medicine and say anything he wanted him to so he would not be hurt.

“Okay, good.” Sir Atticus went to the first bottle. “This is propranolol. It’s going to help with your shaking and make it easier for you to do things. Do you want to take it, Lou?”

“Yes, Sir Atticus.”

Sir Atticus nodded and took one, tiny pill out of the bottle and placed it on the table. “I’m going to help you drink until we get you stable, so I’m putting the pills you’re going to take here, so you can see them all and know that I’m not going to give you anything you don’t know, okay?”

“Yes, Sir Atticus.”

He smiled at Louka. Louka was doing well again.

“Now, this is duloxetine. It’s going to help with your pain and also make you feel less sad and worried all the time. It’ll take a few weeks to start working, but will help you long-term. It can make your stomach upset, so I’m going to give you one of those pills I gave you at the hospital. Do you remember the ones that taste bad and melt in your mouth?”

Louka nodded.

“Okay, do you want to take them?”

“Yes, Sir Atticus.”

“Good.” He gave another one of his gentle smiles. “This is the last one. It’s called buspirone. It’ll help you with your anxiety, but it’ll probably make you a bit sleepy. You’ll need to take it a few times a day to have it work all the time. Do you want to take this one?”

“Yes, Sir Atticus.”

“Okay.” Sir Atticus let out a deep breath that confused Louka. “You’re doing really well, Lou.” He put the pills in Louka’s hand, leaving the little silver packet on the table. “Put them in your mouth and I’ll help you with your drink.” Louka did what he was told and Sir Atticus brought the glass of tea, hot but not too hot, to his lips for him to drink. He held it to his mouth until he’d drunk half the glass and the pills were safely down his throat. He then opened the blister with the pill he remembered from the hospital. After it dissolved in his mouth, Sir atticus helped him drink again.

“Okay, good job, Lou. I want you to try sleeping some. You’re probably very tired and need rest to heal your head. I have a room for you. I won’t go in. I’ll show you where it is, then I’m going to come back down here. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir Atticus. You’ll show me my room so I can rest, then you’ll leave.”

“Yes, good.” Atticus used his crutch to stand up, then motioned for Louka to follow him up the stairs.

Louka wasn’t sure if the medicine was working extraordinarily quickly, but he was relaxed enough to not panic as he followed Sir Atticus up the stairs as he made his way up slowly with his crutch. Just as he’d said, he showed Louka his room, then turned around.

It wasn’t the biggest room ever, but it had its own, private bathroom, shower, closet, and, of course, a double bed with a heavy duvet cover. A pair of boxers, some flannel sleeping pants, and a cotton shirt. He was quick to change into it, thankful for clean clothes that weren’t the scratchy military fabric he was given before.

The duvet was warm and heavy in the best way possible. Louka felt a warm wave of sleep wash over his body as his eyelids felt heavy and he found himself drifting into a pleasant, gentle sleep.

---

Atticus didn’t really know what he was expecting when he took Louka in. He knew the man would be terrified, of course. But, the nurses seemed to be understating the extent of his anxiety when they explained it to him.

Atticus was infinitely thankful for Louka to be asleep so he could take a moment to himself. He needed to gain his composure. He couldn’t help Louka if he was in a horrible mental state and, admittedly, he had no clue what he was getting himself into.

Back to the coffee cake and tea that was now cold in the living room, Atticus ate and decided on a book to read to help pass the time. Whenever he wasn’t doing something, Atticus found himself at a loss of what to do. It’d been years since he completed his degree. He thought about taking a walk to the town about thirty minutes away, but realized with his hip that it was a horrible idea. Anyway, there was no guarantee a town so small would carry any journals of interest. Maybe he’d call someone about getting them posted to his home.

Soon enough, he found himself in the kitchen, staring at the food. Maybe the trip to the town wasn’t such a bad idea. He could pick up some cookbooks there and start practicing his craft. However, as he shifted to look under the sink at what was in the cabinet, his hip audibly cracked and pain shot through his leg. Atticus wasn’t used to his condition and being stuck between needing physical activity and needing rest was just protracting his recovery.

He finally settled on a series of philosophy books. He’d been forced to take philosophy in his officer’s school, but never really paid attention. However, he soon realized why he hadn’t. It gave him far too much anxiety, especially only a month fresh off deployment, to question the purpose of life.

Instead, he settled on some classics. Atticus regretted never reading the classics. His school wasn’t for those going into academia - classics weren’t given much mind. They focused on teaching him the important parts of his job as a miner. Reading and writing came second.

Thus, a sort of pattern formed. Louka would come down around the same time as Atticus. Atticus would negotiate the pills with him, reminding him of his freedom of choice, then would help him eat breakfast.

The medicine for his tremors were making a huge difference. By the third day, Louka was steady enough to hold a fork on his own. The fifth, he could hold a glass without help. Every time Louka made a little stride like that, Atticus felt a little pang of pride in his heart, like watching a little brother overcome something that had scared him.

Of course, Louka was forcing Atticus to do a lot of things he didn’t like. Atticus knew that Louka needed some degree of normalcy while he introduced humanity back into his life. The biggest problem, he found, was Louka’s silence. He would sit quietly by Atticus, waiting for orders and exuding anxiety until Atticus said something to him.

Atticus had been in the military for eight years and sometimes found himself missing it. He soon realized, though, that now that he’d left, there was no going back. Nothing showed him that more than Louka. Atticus found himself uncomfortable with Louka calling him “Sir Atticus.” It was far less formal than “Colonel” or “Dufort” but felt so much more out of place.

He also found himself unable to give Louka orders. Atticus found it absurd! A Colonel who couldn’t give orders to someone who wanted them more than anything. Ridiculous.

Atticus soon realized that Louka didn’t take care of himself. That fifth day, he’d come to understand that Louka hadn’t showered or brushed his teeth since coming to his home. He knew he needed to have Louka washed and have his teeth brushed so he wouldn’t have cavities. The process, though, was going to be difficult.

“Louka, do you need help bathing?”

When Atticus brought it up over his book and fruit tea, Louka flinched, then froze.

“I- uh, yes, Sir Atticus.”

Atticus paused and tried to think of how to ask his question. “Can you tell me why?”

Louka was quiet, with that anxious look on his face. Atticus had long gotten used to it. He was trapped between wanting to listen to Atticus and wanting to keep his privacy. It was an infinitely frustrating cycle for Atticus. He wanted Louka to have his privacy, but some things he just needed to know. Like, why his new house guest wasn’t showering or brushing his teeth. If it was a problem, he wanted to help Louka instead of having him develop cavities and skin infections.

“The water here is cold, Sir Atticus. Very cold. It hurts my wounds, Sir Atticus. I’m sorry, Sir Atticus. I know it’s unacceptable for me to be in this condition. If I am too disgusting, I understand that I should endure a punishment.”

Atticus still managed to be taken aback. “You… shower with cold water?”

“Yes, Sir Atticus. Warm baths are a gift, Sir Atticus.”

Atticus took a deep breath. “You are to shower with whatever temperature water you’d like, Lou.” Closing his eyes quietly, he thought of what to say next. “Please, go take a quick shower. A warm one. We need to re-dress your wounds. If you haven’t been showering, they could get infected.”

Louka looked absolutely downcast. “I-I’m sorry, Sir Atticus.”

Atticus summoned that unfamiliar gentleness into his voice once again. “It’s okay, Lou. You’re doing well.”

This time, Louka didn’t believe him. He just quietly bowed his head as he walked up the stairs.

…

Louka did his very best to do exactly what was told of him. Touching the water in the shower was a terrifying venture. He adjusted it to what he felt was “warm” then hopped in. Sir Atticus had told him to take a quick shower. He was disgusted with Louka’s condition.

The truth was, though he was using cold water and it was difficult, he’d tried to shower the first time and had gotten thrown into a violent flashback. Looking down at himself, he easily remembered why. Wounds had begun to transition to scars, blemishes in his flesh like the brand that had healed away five years ago. Tears flooded his eyes, but he persisted. He needed to be good. He needed to listen for once in his life.

However, the longer he spent, the longer he felt those thoughts coming back. He was disgusting. He was trying so hard every day. Why was he never enough? Why did he have to be so strong all the time? Why was being weak punished so harshly?

I’ll break every bone in your body.

I’ll never let you go.

You’re fucking pathetic. You’re good for nothing. What do you use those hands of yours for anyway?

Hmm, do you really need those ears since you don’t seem to listen to anything?

More and more thoughts overwhelmed him as he tried, failing, to compose himself to see Sir Atticus. Kind Sir Atticus who refused to hurt him but was surely one bad day away from it.

As he came down the stairs with eyes full of tears, ears full of insults, body full of hands, and nose full of the smell of burnt flesh, Louka had to turn to face Sir Atticus.

For once, he didn’t care. He wanted the thoughts gone. If anything, the inevitable punishment for his decrepit state would be a relief, some sense of normalcy.

“Lou, are you okay? Did something happen?”

Sir Atticus hurried to get up, best he could with his bad hip, and walk over to Louka. Yes, he would cry and show his weakness. He needed the abuse.

Louka shook his head. He wasn’t okay. He needed the relief.

Instead of a hand across his face, Louka found that Sir Atticus had pulled him into a tight hug, hand gently combing his hair.

“Please don’t break me. I’ll be good forever, Sir Atticus. I’ll accept whatever punishment you have for this, but I promise, I promise I’m-”

Sir Atticus pulled him tighter, balancing his own weight with Louka’s, and shushed him. “I told you, you’ll never have to hurt again, Lou. Just let it out. You don’t need to explain.”

It was a command, one Louka would obey. He went quiet and allowed himself to crumple into Atticus as he moved them both to the couch and held him close, closer than anyone had before.

---

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Taglist: @hold-him-down

#vavalon #whump #whump writing #atticus #louka #cw are above

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hychlorions · 3 years

Note

yoo i love ur klapollys, esp when you talk about them in length in ur tags. i wanted to know ur opinion on if they would get married, if yes who would propose, how would their wedding and married life would go, if they would adopt a kid etc?

omg this is literally the best ask i've ever received AKJSHD i will keep this brief

edit as i'm typing this: it is not brief i am putting it under read more

i think they get married!! klavier is a romantic and a performer, so he would absolutely THRIVE at a wedding; apollo likes needless procedures, things being legal, and also the benefits (and admittedly the fancy suits. and the cake. and... and klavier... because duh *starts sobbing*)

as for who would propose, i do like the idea of klavier proposing! it's stupid but mostly it's because of this weird thing i have with my friends where we make apollo fall more in love with him over the most inane things??? for example: saving pasta sauce for toast, making dice-shaped hard candies with stuff like gold foil and edible flowers inside the one time apollo expressed a desire to eat dice, shopping locally, bringing his own cup to fucking starbucks... if you're wondering how that fits in with the idea of klavier proposing, i have Feelings over lab-made gemstones, so apollo gets to have those Feelings too, and klavier proposing with a ring with lab-made stones—apollo drops to his knees and proposes on the spot. never mind the fact that klavier was already doing that in the first place. speaking of proposals most of my ideas are always like? they both have rings hidden somewhere in the house but klavier always brings it out first. apollo never lets him get to the question though. or klavier just outright forgets to ask

their wedding, and this is the one thing i am dead set on, is a disaster. it's all because of kay, clay, and trucy, aka the chaos emeralds; and, according to my friend, operation: B.I.G. A.S.S. (Best I love you Gavin Apollo Spectacular Seremony with an S... they tried, at least) which is actually their attempt at giving klapollo the coolest wedding possible. athena is not originally in this operation bc juniper is the wedding planner and as much as she loves trucy and messing with apollo she loves her stress-free girlfriend more. that and also she's listened to apollo's stressed out rants enough to know she doesn't want one after smthn as big as a wedding. as fate would have it she gets involved though</3 but to her credit she does try to get phoenix to stop them, but narumitsu is busy in their little corner going "ah remember trucy and kay's super special operation for our wedding?" (which was also a disaster btw) in any case, many curtains are set on fire, many doves are set free, phoenix loses an eyebrow, and apollo can feel his blood pressure rising. klavier tries to calm him down by holding his hand but apollo almost breaks it from how hard he grips it

long story even longer they end up in the hospital. for the spice and the funnies and also the silly goose anesthesia trope i am breaking klavier's leg. i've never broken a bone before (flex) so i'm just hoping there's a chance they'll give you nitrous oxide for bone pain... i mean teeth are bones too or whatever. for extra funnies i want him to pass out but beforehand he makes apollo lean in so klavier can tell him something but all he says is "tell trucy... this was the best... wedding... ever..." i can't tell if that's a lie or not actually. as long as trucy’s happy<3 ANYWAY i am getting off-topic but my one purpose for breaking klavier’s leg is for him asking apollo to marry him but apollo, who wants to mess with klavier, tells him he’s already married and like. you can just SEE the light go out in klavier’s eyes. apollo has to reassure him that yes, he’s married, but also he’s married to klav but all it does is make klavier cry harder?? and when apollo asks him why it’s apparently because “i don't remember the wedding… i wanna remember how handsome you looked” AND IN RESPONSE APOLLO’S LIKE “well i'm still in my suit, you're technically in a gown? (lol) we can get married again so you remember, alright? so stop crying” AND THEY DO. AND EDGEWORTH OFFICIATES. AND KLAVIER PUTS THE RING ON THE WRONG FINGER. AND—

anyway after that? klavier jokingly tells trucy that if he ever gets married again she definitely has to plan it and apollo glares and says “you better pray there’s no second wedding” and klavier just blinks and goes “why? don't you want to do a renewal of vows?” which, you know, KLAVIER, WE JUST GOT MARRIED, WHY ARE YOU ALREADY THINKING SO FAR AHEAD I LOVE YOU SO MUCH—

Their married life is pure domestic bliss, don’t ask me for more details because i will short circuit and never answer. i think a lot of people have headcanons about who takes the other’s last name though, to which i say: they definitely just append the other’s last name to the end of theirs, so klavier gets to keep his branding and apollo gets to stay a lawyer pun. idk i guess klavier justice or apollo gavin just don’t do it for me… hyphenating is way catchier imo. they also don’t get kids??? they don’t feel like the type, and as someone their age… yeah</3 no thanks. as compensation though i do think they have hundreds of cats and dogs<3 (actually four cats and two dogs. there’s more to this but this reply is getting SO long i’ll have to end it here)

anyway that’s it for my klapollo marriage thoughts ! i’m sorry you had to read them all, or you’re welcome i guess@?#@?# n thank you for reading ^^ idk how people feel abt long replies. as a peace offering here is THE first klapollo thing i ever drew, which i am just now realizing it foreshadowed my entire life up to this point, aka my current klapollo domesticity era

#ok condolences for everyone who chooses to open the read more link.#to the select few people that follow me whom i respect a lot i'm sorry you have to see me like this....#it's just... klapollo.... (holds them in my mouth like a golden retriever)#as for the art at the end ik the skin looks bad but i literally did NOT do darker skintones as often back then #but i worked on it.... and i am better for it... i'm sorry i gave klavier neon blushies i swear i know how ugly it looks #ask #anonymous #answered

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lostysworld · 3 years

Text

One and the same – Kaz Brekker x reader

Part 1 / 2 / 3

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader

Warning: swearing

Summary: You are Inej's friend, and once the Crows need your help with a heist, you meet at the Slat for planning. Little does everyone know, how hard it will be for you and Kaz to negotiate and get along. Fortunately, the heist brings you together.

A/N: The heist description will be in the second part, so enjoy, guys!)

– I've told you this would be a bad idea.

The Crows are sitting at the first floor of the empty Slat, waiting for Saints know what. The heist they are planning seems like an impossible task, but it hardly makes Kaz stop. A big sum of kruge and jewelry are everything that is on his mind now.

Inej is nervous. She asked you for help, and now you are nowhere to be found even with her skills. You are the best archer she knows, and they can use a bit of your help here.

But Jesper with his constant reminders doesn't help her to calm down.

– Jes, stop! She will be here at any-

– Hey, I'm sorry, guys!

You run into the house, panting like from a long run, and Kaz only rolls his eyes in irritation. He doesn't know you, but already realizes, that he doesn't want such irresponsible member in his group.

He stands up from his place, coming up to a big round table in the middle.

– I'm Y/N, - she extends her hand for a handshake to Kaz, who only scans her with an arched brow.

– Nice of you to finally join us, Y/N, - you don't like how he stresses your name. – But sadly, the fun is already over.

Your gaze doesn't leave him. You've never seen Kaz Brekker before, but heard a lot. You would gladly work under his command one day, even his grumbling would not scare you off.

You chuckle lightly, looking at Inej.

– You didn't say, you had jokers here. A lot of funny guys, actually.

Fahey rises from his seat and comes up to you.

– I'm Jesper. Shell we start, or what?

Brekker switches his grim glance, that every second was on you only, to the map of a building on the table.

– And you, Y/N, - Kaz points at the place on the map. – Should be here.

The whole plan looks quite questionable even for you, who don't have much of experience. You furrow and turn to Brekker, who seems to be not in the mood at all.

– I don't think, I will be useful here. Don't you have other options?

Kaz wants to swear. Hard and long. You somehow find a way to irritate him with your only presence and every word coming out of your mouth. Needless to say, everyone knows, that it's not safe to question Kaz Brekker's plan.

The man just tries to be patient with you.

– I do have other options, and I know, that I can't use them in this situation!

– You know, - Jesper starts distracting you two not to have a fight before the heist. – This will go a lot quicker, if we do things my way-

– Since your way, probably involves a lot of noise, Jesper, I think it is safer if we don't.

Brekker is on his top pressure point. They must be there tomorrow, and the plan is still no good. Not at all.

It feels like all of them pull in different directions, trying to prove something to each other. And it's not how the team works.

– Now what? - Fahey throws his arms up, surrendering to two people in charge here. But he gets only silence in response.

– Now what?

– I am thinking, - Brekker starts getting more and more nervous, and it switches on you too.

There is a good chance for all of you to escape safely, and, if you are lucky, then with everything that the vault holds. Otherwise, you pray only for staying alive in the end of the job.

You hear Jes tapping the table's leg with his feet, and it may mean only one thing. When Inej starts talking, you shut your eyes close, rubbing your face in exhaustion.

– I don't like the plan, Kaz, - her friend's worries are clear to you, but you still can't come up with something better.

– But at least, if you stuck there, you will stuck with friends, and-

– Shut the hell up, Jesper!

You and Kaz both share the same glance of annoyance, as you shared the same phrase a second ago. Brekker finally takes it out on Fahey, shouting so unexpectedly, that the boy just jerks from him.

Two hours of heated conversation passes and you are completely worn out.

– What the hell are you doing?! - you roll the map up, putting it aside.

– We all need to calm down, guys-

– I will calm down, when I get what I want, - Kaz is still grumbling, and it drives you mad.

– You will lead them to their death! - you point at Inej and Jesper, who don't even say a word. – It is not only kruge, that you need, right? What do you want to prove, Kaz?

The man freezes and swallows hard, turning back to the bar. There is no need to argue or deny. Surprisingly, you are right. He wants to prove the whole Ketterdam, that he is worth being called a leader. Not only a criminal.

But his desire may indeed have a cost.

– Saints, Jes, did you see it?

Inej shoves him slightly drawing his attention to what happened some minutes ago.

– You mean, they are one and the same? Like we are trapped with two Kazs at the same time? - he casts a displeased glance at Inej, if that's her fault for bringing you here.

– What have I done. Nobody agrued with him that much until this moment.

Kaz doesn't notice, when all talks behind his back end, and you join him at the counter, putting a hot mug next to him.

He casts a grim glance at your side, but you smile tiredly and nod to the cup.

– Cocoa for your troubles? – his lips slightly twitch in a kind of grin. You are so young, though so reasonable sometimes. He would even agree with some of your ideas about the heist.

– I was thinking a couple of shots would be more like this.

– Well, I already made the cocoa, so...

Finally all the Crows gather around two of you, and it feels like the pressure slowly goes down. After some silent minutes, all of you go back to the map.

– So? - Jesper is afraid of offering any idea, because of Kaz's temper and you, who he doesn't fully know.

– You are going with Inej, - Brekker points at Jesper. – And Y/N is going with me.

– No guns, Jesper, - you look at the boy. – We don't need unnecessary attention there.

– There are to be no unnecessary deaths too, - Kaz adresses to all of you, but knowing Inej, this won't happen with her. You take a second to think and switch your attention on Brekker.

– How exactly are we defining necessary then?

He arches a brow at you, but without previous irritation or anger. He just wonders, how this question comes to your mind at all.

– We should stuck to the plan, clear? - Kaz is serious, and you always used to take the pressure off. – Nina and Matthias will wait for us here in the Slat.

Everybody nods in agreement, and Kaz looks at you, who still seem to hesitate. Honestly, he feels your worries and understands them as well as his own. The plan isn't brilliant, and any other time he wouldn't trust a stranger. But this time something has changed.

Getting this intense gaze from him, you only shrug your shoulders.

– If you die, Brekker, I'm keeping your cane, - the corner of his lips twitches slightly.

– Glad to know you care so much, Y/N.

Inej supresses the smile. Maybe it's not that bad for you two to be alike and getting along. In the end, Kaz needs a person to fully understand him.

#shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x you #kaz brekker fanfiction #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x you #six of crows x you #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows

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losthelove · 2 years

Text

WIP Challenge

Thanks for tagging me @de-sire-blog - since I’ve got nothing better to do with my time there you go, babes ♥️

WIP Challenge 😁❤🧡💛💚💙💜🤎🖤🤍❤😁🤩🤩 Rules: tell us the titles of all the WIPs you are currently working on right now and a little about them. Then tag five other writers.

I just want to preface this by saying that I’ve got about 10 WIPs (yes, I am that much of a mess) but I’ll only list the ones I’ll actually see myself finishing one day ✌🏼

“About trains, babies, and handsome strangers”: Remus travels home from two stressful weeks at his parent’s home and Sirius has to come home early from his vacation because Lily’s in labour. They are the only two people in their train compartment and when the train gets stuck due to bad weather they end up keeping each other awake through the night (and fall in love, obviously). - Idk, something about me romanticising long train rides maybe? But I also kinda love it because it’s love on first sight shit and they’ve got a *really* cute bonding moment when Harry’s born. (It’s actually planned as more of a one shot but I’ve got too many ideas for this already so we’ll see)

“Farm story” - this story has no title yet but a summary actually: Remus has no time. Remus has no time for anything but the farm he inherited when both of his parents died five years ago. He has no time to do the groceries, he has no time to go out with friends, he has no time to sleep in in the mornings. Worst of all, he has no time for Sirius Black, the over-ambitious accountant who‘s supposed to help him with the finances of the farm, who‘s the most gorgeous man Remus has ever seen, whose eyes are so distracting Remus gets lost in them. But Remus has no time. No time to fall in love. - Something about the idea of Remus owning a farm and lots of animals and being all soft just does things to me! Also, Sirius is enamoured from minute one and Remus is completely oblivious to it.

"The beginning of summer": Meet-cute in a museum, Remus is a teacher and Sirius is a museum attendant. They both do ridiculously stupid things to see each other again while both claiming that they "don't actually believe in love". - Needless to say they're both huge liars :))) Probably the most "poetic" story I have planned because *lots* of talking about flowers and the meaning of life (that's why I never actually write anything for this story, welp)

"Parenty story" - no title but a summary (again :D): When Remus meets Sirius for the first time he’s sure that falling in love again might just be easier than he thought it would be. The only problem: Sirius is Teddy’s teacher and there is no way Remus can date his child’s teacher, except, Teddy doesn’t really agree. - Okay, this is the story that I probably enjoy the most writing on because it involves a lot of humour and many, many fatherly thought's from Remus's side (Dora's dead btw but Remus is not sad about it (anymore), lol), I love the father-child-relationship in this one (something about the childhood I wish I would've had, whaaaat? :)))) It includes a lot of pining because Remus himself is his biggest obstacle, as always :D (Oh, also #gayauntmarlene because she is my biggest inspiration 💅🏼)

"The seven-year itch" - okay, this is my baby actually and that's why I almost never write anything for it because I don't want to fuck it up (although I basically have the whole story mapped out) and here's what it's about (very roughly) because I'm shit at describing this particular one: Basically, Sirius and Remus fell hopelessely in love in boarding school. Through *circumstances* they haven't seen each other again after graduating and meet again 7 years later when Remus and Dora want to have their wedding in Sirius's hotel. Needless to say they're both still absolutely in love with each other. - The Drama and The Feels in this one, unmatched! I mean, Sirius has to plan the literal wedding of the love of his life, which is mean, I know, but, again, the FEELS!! This Fic is soulmate shit and one day I will actually finish it and it will (hopefully) be great :D Also, it's slightly self-indulgent because I love weddings just that much and there's a lot of wedding-planning involved 🔥

"Midnight tea" - okay, haha, last one, this one's a TextingFic and honestly it was a rather dumb idea of mine that turned into this bigger (although not very deep) thing, yeah, it's the story I'm writing on whenever I can't form a coherent thought (or when I'm too lazy writing all the descriptive stuff because I *love* writing dialogue) and here's the summary: Remus has a boyfriend. Sirius says he's straight. James is a big himbo. Lily doesn't like him. Marlene likes women, especially Dorcas. Peter is being Peter. What could possibly go wrong? - This Fic is such a mess because I have so many random ideas for it.

Anyway, that's it! None of those stories are originial and they all have the same theme which is #boysbeingsoft, also, fun fact: Lily has healthy amounts of main character moments in *all* of those Fics because I love her just that much💅🏼

I don't know 5 other writers actually, so, everyone reading this, consider yourself tagged :D

#puts a ribbon on her mess and hands it over #there you go #wolfstar #wolfstar fics #i kind of want to write on all of them simultaneously now #thank you very much for that

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becausethathappens · 3 years

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Will you please write a super angsty fic where Link is freaking out because he thinks the wedding vows he has written aren't good enough and Rhett helps him go over them and make corrections and says they're perfect but also, just says the vows he would say for Link if it was them like it should've been because he's heartbroken and Link can tell but their hands are tied and they don't know what to do so they soldier on without saying a word, but wordlessly communicating lifelong love and misery and everything, maybe comfort as well?

i'm really really sad and i can't shake it off and i really want some good angst and hurt/comfort and i really love you, maura, you're awesome

I don't do unhappy endings, anon. I'm confident you don't either. In fiction or otherwise. So, pardon this if it’s not what you expected.

Please enjoy? This was done a little hastily to share it with you (and I should be writing other things per usual) but I've had a rough week and I want to hopefully make someone smile. (I have way angstier stuff in the drafts and I will be sure to get those out eventually, too.) You’ll feel better soon. 🤞 Thank you! 💞

-———————-

now or forever

4k - Rhett writes Link vows.

If you were my boy, Blue

I’d bathe you in honeys (sp?)

I’d sing write you a love song

I’d shoot you a star**

If you were my boy, Blue

There ain’t nothing in this life I wouldn’t give

From my heart, to my toes, to my fingers, my nose (**)

Whatever it takes just to watch you live

continue to ‘ ’ grow with you like a vine ‘round a rose

If you were my boy, Bue

I wouldn’t want you all for myself

There’s no star bright enough to match your lightin’

In sickness, blue, so certainly while we have health

Hand in hand, no longer fightin’

What’s destiny (**)

You and & me

If you were my boy, Blue

I'd marry you

Thank God for Rhett. Giving him, delivering him, blessing him with Rhett.

Link is in the middle of a spiral (what he’ll later recognize as a panic attack) when Rhett arrives, the eve of his wedding. Bailing him out of this with pen, paper, and a smile.

Link has always been good at improv.

Though Rhett tended to find the words to start. These were his own vows and Link has been putting time to sit and start them off for weeks. Now that he has to, he’s dumbfounded, despite being deeply in love.

Amidst all the planning and chaos, writing his vows was such a given that Link left it as priority sixty-seven on a list of many more.

Unfortunately, even as busy as they’ve been, that list was shredded with the “who gifted what” tracking sheet (both literally, accidentally, and figuratively) back around the bridal shower and it’s been anarchy ever since.

So he thanks God for Rhett, who’s here, to stop another needless disaster from happening.

That same generous God, however, watches him plagued with thoughts of utter devotion at Rhett’s willingness to drop everything on a weeknight and rush over to help Link find his words.

His lyrics, really, is what Link has in mind. Since they used to write songs together and this felt much the same. He’s been floundering all night and now that Rhett’s here, he knows he’ll at least get what he needs done. Even if it’s not all he wants, right now.

That same God seeks judgment on his every decision or flinch against His will, for any reason, to spite him.

For this reason.

He wants to smush Rhett’s face and kiss him. Deeply. He doesn’t.

Even if there were sometime in the past that he could get away with a platonic smooch, now he can’t. He simply could not prevent that from escalating.

So, he merely tightens his grip on the wrinkled scrap paper in his hand and scrunches his eyes.

“Why can’t it be you up there…” Link bemoans, loudly, in his frustration.

Rhett’s eyes widen, in horror, and Link slams his other hand at his mouth, rolling his eyes. “Not like - I mean - why can’t you go say my lines for me. You’re so much better at this kinda thing.”

“Let me read what you’ve got,” Rhett says.

After some review, Rhett sighs, not unkindly and sits down next to Link. “Let’s just talk through what you’re trying to say because, yeah, this reads like liturgy.”

“Ain’t is supposed to? It’s in a chapel!”

“What do you like about her?” Rhett asks, ignoring his nitpicking. “Christy?” Rhett stares at him, waiting, too upset for Link to chastise but clearly wanting to.

“She’s patient,” Link says, reminded by the similar. Rhett folds over the book to an open page and clicks the pen in his hand, writing that down. “A-And she’s kind. Like considerate, ‘specially with babies and little animals. Sh-She does this thing where she immediately drops to their eye-level to make sure they don’t feel unheard or seen. Probably ‘cause she’s always been so tall…”

Rhett’s still writing.

“Then when I’m sick, she forces me to rest. You know I hate that,” Link says, voice rising a little, at the memory. “But you know I need that. You won’t be the last to make me stop and smell the roses or take a break, once in a while.”

“Her hair, write, her hair - the way it looks in the sunshine. Like warm caramel with flecks of gold. She’s a vision, an angel. Especially when she’s wearing all white, like,” Link says, pausing to point to Rhett’s undershirt and pale grey sweats. “Makes blondes look ethereal-like, always has.”

“Oh, and her voice. Sometimes, the way her accent catches, well, you know she don’t like to sing like us, never has, but when she says certain things, asks a question the right way - it’s music. The way it harmonizes with my answer, reminds me of singing, reminds me of us.”

Rhett keeps writing, quiet, and focused.

After a short time, Link can’t stop and wants to crane over to see what he’s come up with. Rhett hands it over after crossing a final “t” somewhere on the page.

“Those’re good, Link, but I think you need to keep closer to what I wrote, leave out the stuff about me.”

“Stuff about you?” Link asks, having spoken in a stream-of-conscious style, Link forgets most of what he even said

Rhett looks away, shakes his head.

Distracted by the desire to read the rest, Link abandons the lingering questions he has about Rhett’s suggestion and response.

“These are great, man, thanks,” Links says, pushing a soft hand into Rhett’s side.

His eyes scan to the bottom where Rhett’s added a few lines about the journey, the marriage, all the ceremonial aspects of the day for him to close with, but then something more.

Something about him.

Rhett catches him catch it and looks further away. “I know Christy pretty well, too, y’know. Y’all are just alike, in that way. She might need some back-up vows, to have and hold.”

Link reads them.

“You know, just in case.”

Link looks up and tries to laugh.

He doesn’t laugh.

He goes back to reading them.

Rhett shifts uncomfortably, touches the back of his neck, and shuts his eyes.

“Rhett, these ’re…”

“I know, bo, you can forget ‘em,” Rhett excuses, still not meeting Link’s gaze. “You want me to… I can rewrite the others on a different - I can turn the page and write ‘em there so you can just…”

“Hey, hey,” Link interrupts him, mad at Rhett putting down his best friend, and eager to explain his actual thoughts. “Rhett, these are perfect. These are… I’m sad I can’t say anything as nice in return to you.”

Rhett finally looks up to acknowledge that and their gaze heats and lingers.

“Not that I…” Link stutters to clarify. “Y-You’d have to be a - if that’s something that was gonna - you know - if that was gonna work…”

His mind does it’s usual jump to a visual for the worst case scenario depicting the implication he stumbled across. Him out eight grand on the wedding. Not to mention a wife, a family, a future, a faith -

a friend -

Link gulps, pushing that back away, pushing them both forward, in his estimation.

It’s too much to bear to think about for another second. When he glances at Rhett, he can’t get a read on his face what he thinks about it, and that’s scary enough for him to want to abandon the concept altogether.

“Christy’s gonna love them.”

It’s enough, saying his fiancée's name, to ground him again. Enough to make it okay for him to grab Rhett’s palm and squeeze it in thanks, between them.

Rhett’s made his choice to give up on film school.

Link’s made his choice to give up on whatever schoolboy obsession he has with monopolizing all of Rhett’s days and nights.

He’ll stick to the days or every other weekend, however they can still fit time together, is fine by him. This ceremony, tomorrow, feels as much about his graduation from friend to husband, and all that that entails.

They’re adults.

They both know there’s a lot of sacrifices to be made and this feels like the first time he’s really acknowledging how hard they’re going to be to make. He hopes they’ll still see each other.

He hopes their kids will get along.

He has a lot of hopes.

All of them involve Rhett.

There’s a lot he should write down for when Rhett finds his own bride to wed.

Link notices, suddenly, that Rhett is crying. The same part of him that's nearly broken the headwind of these conflicting emotions turns back to comfort him.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Link soothes, realizing he’s also still holding Rhett’s hand.

“‘M sorry,” Rhett intones, the words bubble up and out of him simultaneously, sounding like water draining in a filled sink. “And the night before your wedding, good Heavens.”

“Hey, I’ve been crying all week,” Link says, waving a hand at the stress that planning a wedding has kept put on him. “Nothing I haven’t seen in the mirror.”

Rhett laughs, rubbing a thumb over his own thigh in a way that brushes upwards against the place Link’s clasping his hand. Link nearly pulls his hand back, thinking Rhett’s trying to get him to sense his want for space, but when he meets his eye it’s clear he’d like nothing less.

“I think I’m just -” Rhett starts to say, trailing off. The light from the lamp on the far coffee table is the only thing on in the room. Link drops his gaze a few inches to try and see more of Rhett’s downturned eyes as he hems and haws. He squeezes their hands together, again, this time clasping it more firmly, still pressing Rhett’s large palm down from above. “I think I’m just a li’l jealous, is all.”

It’s the quietest admission he’s heard from Rhett since he told him he failed their chemistry mid-term in eleventh grade.

Link is also so lost at the innocence of the admission that he can only think of follow-up questions. “Of me?”

Rhett looks at him for a long, long minute and finally, when Link’s gaze remains confused for the whole length of the pause, he shakes his head, no.

Then he waits.

He waits for Link to realize what he means.

But he’s still waiting when Link, oblivious, moves onward trying to comfort Rhett, instead of understanding him fully.

The tension in the room is palpable as Link talks, but only to Rhett, it seems. Only Rhett pictures air bags being deployed in a car safety video as metal hits cinder block. Only Rhett moves his hand, though it’s all it takes to dislodge them from each other completely.

“I know you’re gonna make an amazing husband some day.” Link is saying.

Rhett’s hand aches where cool air now surrounds it.

“I know your wife is gonna get to hear you say such wonderful things about her.”

Rhett wipes his hand of the misunderstanding on the cotton of his pants.

“I know she’s gonna say the same kind of things about you, when it’s your turn up there.”

Rhett mourns the idea that this would ever be requited.

“I know she’s gonna love you, just as much as I do, so she’ll have plenty to say.”

Rhett looks away, wiping the last of his tears from his eyes.

“I’ll make sure she has plenty of ideas where to start.”

Rhett pats Link’s leg, in camaraderie, and nods.

And that’s it. They shoot the shit, they make a plan to meet up at a donut place for the groomsmen’s breakfast to thank them for their help, before the ceremony, and they’ll talk things through if Link’s feeling jittery still. Then Rhett’s gone.

It’s not until the next day at eleven on the dot (everyone has an agenda to follow and every moment is accounted for) that Link understands Rhett’s pain.

His mother straightens his tie and flattens the edges of his suit. “You’ll wanna know I heard Christy looks like an angel in her dress, from the girls upstairs.”

“Those actual angels you been talkin’ to, Sue?” Rhett jokes, where he’s twisting his cummerbund around every so often, bored.

“Very funny, honey,” Sue ribs back. “From the cousins, Beth and Hailee Sue. Remember they’re friends with the hairstylist you got to do the curls for Christy’s hair, today? She was over last night getting Christy ready for bed with how to wash and dry it a special kind of way. They were there, too.”

Link starts to tune her out, since there’s a lot on his mind, but then she says more.

“She says the hairstylist was talking about how jealous she was of Christy, all night, getting to marry you,�� Sue relays.

“Oh, mama, please,” Link dismisses. The compliments he’s been getting have felt faker than the toupee on his uncle Bruce. That girl has never even met him. “I’m the only person here people should be jealous of, who would be jealous of Christy,” he says, trailing off, muttering his reasoning as he did. “Marrying a trainwreck like me.”

Link looks up in the mirror where some of his friends continue to mingle in various states of undress. Rhett is already dressed, however, and staring straight at Link like he’s been caught with a hand in a cookie jar.

Link’s about to ask what’s wrong when he remembers his words. Then looks again over the planes of Rhett’s face.

Last night’s words slam back into his mind and Link’s mouth drops open.

The church organ belts out an opening flurry of notes before Canon in D begins playing loudly through the sound system built into the rafters above them. Link looks up to see one of the church staff at the door instructing them to join the bridal party to line-up.

Link’s mom dashes off to where she’s paired with her nephew, Link’s favorite cousin, to be escorted down the aisle.

Rhett sees Link’s face rushing through a wash of emotions from a distance, he nods to the staffer in silent understanding that he’ll handle it, and then they’re alone.

He walks up to Link and takes his hand. He squeezes it.

“Hey, you gotta go. We gotta go. It’s showtime,” Rhett insists.

Link looks around like a bomb went off, since in some ways it did, and he doesn’t know what to do.

Rhett seems to pick up on that. He squeezes Link’s hand again.

“I’ll get over it, Link, it’s okay,” Rhett whispers, on the verge of desperation.

That confirmation is enough to fully shatter Link.

Only for a moment.

The music continues and Rhett keeps his hand hold.

They are adults. They are in love. They have to marry.

None of these things can be helped.

“I’m gonna be so jealous of Her, too,” Link whispers back. He squeezes Rhett’s hand one last time, as they part.

They leave.

They walk straight.

They part again.

Until later.

They move houses and cities and states.

They move mountains, inside and out.

They move together.

Much later.

They join again.

They run crooked.

They return.

To one another.

Link has spent years worrying a ring that means too much to too few people.

In the beginning, when he cries himself to sleep at what he thinks has been the mistake of a lifetime, it’s His talisman. It reminds him of the expectations upon this life he’s made.

As the years pass, however, the adherence to the bogeymen of their childhood’s rules wears thin. It starts to strictly represent love and patience.

Sacrifice.

It begins to feel like a burden. A representation of what’s been lost, not what’s been found.

He contemplates taking it off, but believes that to be a betrayal of all that it stands for to the people he stands for.

Then, one day, (surely mid-spin) he hears Rhett tell a story about wanting to change his ring.

He watches the silver twirl as Rhett explains.

He believes he was rushed into a certain type of marriage and a certain type of life by a certain type of person.

It’s a life that he’s grown to love but the ring represents a union forced by custom and not one that’s grown through devotion.

His ring reminds him of that too often to be good for him.

Link twists his again at the admission.

So, Rhett’s thinking about replacing the ring.

Link returns home that night in a stupor. He’s sure he said one too many things to Rhett to emphasize how wild it felt to hear him talk about changing rings.

Any memories of that day, their wedding, bring up a rush of emotions that he’s never been good at sorting through.

Today’s admission makes him feel the same spur to make use of idle, betrothed hands he feels when he cleans the fridge.

He wants to clean the slate.

He finds an old DVD copy of their wedding ceremony that he paid to have converted from miniDV some years ago. Now he struggles to find a place to watch that DVD. How quickly time has flown by.

Eventually, he ends up in his son’s room - no one’s home for the remainder of the night but he and Christy - now, he’s sitting on a bean bag, squinting at the game console’s controller trying to get the joysticks to move to “play” on screen.

The ceremony bursts to life and, like it was yesterday, Link’s nerves fizzle awake.

About halfway through the video, Christy finds him like that and sits down next to him in a thwump absorbed mostly by the stuffing of the chair.

They watch themselves smile happily at each other and Christy takes his hand.

“Should I be happy or scared to find you alone watching this on a Saturday night?” she asks, wryly, squeezing his palm.

Link doesn’t know what to say. He’s caught up in Rhett’s bygone script being spoken on screen. Words about Christy and about Link that were not their own, declared loudly in front of the congregation.

“I don’t know,” Link admits, shrugging. He doesn’t. He squeezes her hand back.

“You wanna tell me what’s eating you?”

Link hesitates, but relents. He wants that clean slate, after all. “Rhett’s getting his wedding ring replaced.”

“Replaced?” Christy asks, balking.

“Replaced, yeah,” Link responds, sure he didn’t misspeak.

“With what?” she asks.

“Oh, some new one. Fancy thing, very cool, made of trees or something. Honestly he wears the other one, the slick black one more than his wedding band half the time. He says it feels like the old one? It’s the kind of ring you get in a bauble at a vending machine crank. So, he wants a new one.”

“Jeesh,” Christy says, making a face at the screen. The camera catches Rhett stealing glances at the couple, then at the crowd, beaming at all with unbridled pride.

“Wouldn’t you be mad if I did that?” Link inquires, still baffled at the idea.

“Well, no, but don’t you love your ring? Heirloom and all that,” she says.

Link cringes. “Yeah, yeah. Honestly, I do.”

“So?”

“So, I still kind of want to and I’m not sure what that means.”

They watch the screen together.

“Do you wanna stay married?” she asks, in a small voice.

“Yes,” he breathes out.

There’s a long pause.

“To me?” she asks, her voice even smaller.

“Yes,” he breathes in.

She squeezes his hand, her confidence built back up. She begs him to join her.

“And him?” Christy whispers.

They both look the screen, the lens centered on the two of them, but their gaze is mutually torn to where Rhett stands wiping a tear from his eye at Christy reciting the last of the vows that he wrote her. Wrote him. Wrote them both.

She squeezes his hand again.

“Yes,” he breathes out.

She leans her head on his shoulder.

“You should probably get another ring, then,” she jests. “We shouldn’t have to share everything.”

The slate is clean.

There’s a lot he wants to say to Rhett about it, but just as before, he’s relied on Rhett to give him the right words to say. So, instead of words, he starts wearing Rhett’s ring.

Then, a new one, when he realizes he can match him separate from the other, all told. Have something of Rhett’s, all to himself.

In his unspoken push towards something more, their hands now match along with their steps, as they walk forward.

On the last week in July, they get ice cream at the fifth place that month to mistake them for husbands, but the first one he hears Link crow an affirmative in response.

Rhett waits for him while he triple-tips the cashier (for the guess) and pays for their cones.

“Bad joke,” Rhett says, softly, but firm.

“Who’s kidding?” Link parries back, a smirk dancing it’s way across his lips.

Rhett watches him with a wistful look of disbelief.

“Link, we’re married,” Rhett warns him.

Link shrugs. “I know. I’m just waiting for you to figure that out and minding my ice cream here, all right?”

He’s got a mouthful of vanilla bean and extra cookie crumble, the next second, so his vow ends there.

Later, at home, Rhett startles Jessie awake when he fully realizes Link’s words.

He shakes her awake. He shakes them both awake.

“I’m in love with Link,” he says, like it’s a confession.

She kisses him because so is she. So are most people.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

Rhett repeats himself.

So does she.

They stare at each other under the cover of silk and moonlight.

“We’re married,” Rhett whispers, touching his hand to hers. Their rings clink, new and shiny.

“Yeah, and so are we,” she whispers back.

They fall asleep smiling.

The next day, Rhett sneaks up behind Link while he’s working and causes him to spill his cup of coffee. He gets the stink eye for only a minute because it’s the same length of time he can stand Link’s grumpy mug before he has to swoop down and kiss him on the lips.

“You figured it out,” Link says, grinning.

“I did,” Rhett chirps as he kisses Link more.

They take a car to their house. It’s filled with their love and the history of it; before, during, and after.

“What’s this?” Link asks, dazed in their post-sex glow, naked and alive.

He spots an old chord book of theirs from last time they wrote music.

“Oh,” Rhett says, bashful. “I came looking for you here this morning, hoping you slept over again, but, uh,” Rhett stalls, looks away and tries to take the songbook from Link’s hand. Link pulls it far enough he can’t reach. “You were already at the job.”

“And?” Link asks, using his spry, sinewy body as an advantage to slink away from the bed out of Rhett’s grip. He still has the book in hand.

“Those are your vows,” Rhett explains.

Link looks down and squints, confused. These aren’t the vows that Christy read at their wedding. He’s seen that video only a few months back and is sure of it.

“Our vows,” Rhett whispers, explaining further, at Link’s puzzled look.

“It’s a love song,” Link notes, marveling at the gesture. What it means to a young version of himself that once felt like they had surely cut out and mourned the possibility of this - all of this - ever happening. To have that thought coexist with the image of a nude, hulking tree trunk of a husband laid before him smiling up adoringly felt panoptic.

“So are you.”

Link begins to cry.

“Play it for me.”

Rhett wipes his cheek.

“Get my guitar.”

They sing twice more that night, always in harmony (not always in lyric), then spend the rest of their lives together doing much the same.

#things i wrote #@anon #i hope you are doing well soon #💙#rhink

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